12 Months of Nature: March

Events conspired to force March's outing into April (though to be fair, it was only one day late). I hate to cheat early, because it can open the door to cheating regularly, but life has to take precedence to blogging about life. Unfortunately, I also missed seeing the targets of my trip. I can spin this positively, though. You see, the nice thing about this hobby is that even spectacular failure can be eminently enjoyable. If you're searching for an elusive creature, or desperately hunting morels, or trying to reach a difficult peak... succeed or fail, you're still outside. You're immersed in nature and surrounded by things that probably interest you in some way. Success is of course rewarding, but failure isn't depressing.

It was easy to combine two events from my guidebook into one trip, and given the driving distance involved it seemed like common sense to do so. Among the events not chosen for March were: rare gulls, tundra swans, and "accidental" species. That last one refers primarily to birds whose migratory senses have failed and sent them to who-knows-where. The phrase "primarily to birds" reminds me to point out my one disappointment with this book so far: it leans quite heavily to birding. So far 11 of the 15 suggested activities have focused on avian life. I have no aversion to bird-watching, but I had hoped for a bit more diversity. It looks like the ratio gets a little better in April, but a "guide to the natural year" whose April section excludes morel hunting seems like sacrilege.

March Events: Endangered Fox Squirrels and Migrating Ducks and Geese

This double-dip was made possible by the proximity of two "hotspots" to one another. I thought that either target individually might be difficult to spot, so the freedom to do both in one trip seemed like a prime opportunity to raise the odds of success. I was pretty enthusiastic about this trip from early March when I started planning it, because it offered two separate chances to see species that are a bit outside the norm. It disappointed me when one thing after another caused the trip to be pushed back, but I was determined to continue with this twelve-month project.

Aside from the stuffed specimen, this was pretty much the only evidence of fox squirrels, although there is a third example to be mentioned later.

Seeing Delmarva Fox Squirrels was an exciting prospect, because they're a) endangered, b) adorable, and c) enormous compared to other squirrels. The visitor center at one of our destinations had a taxidermied example, and so at least I know what one of these beasts looks like.

The rare gulls were something of a longshot anyway, especially since we were late. The migratory season for these birds starts at the beginning of March, and while stragglers are always possible several weeks later, April 1st was a bit of a stretch.

The Location

This trip took us first to Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge, and then to Wye Island Natural Resources Management Area. The former does not allow pets (outside of vehicles, anyway) but is a beatiful drive. There are several short hikes available in Blackwater, and they are short enough that leaving a small companion (say, for example, a beagle-basset mix) in the car is perfectly safe and acceptable. This doesn't mean your small companion will like it. The latter is beautiful as well, but also pet-friendly. Wye Island NRMA offers about a half-dozen short-to-medium length hikes, of which we did two. Since Wye Island is directly on our way back from Blackwater, combining these two destinations into one outing was extremely easy.

Why there, and Why then?

Delmarva fox squirrels at Wye Island:

 This squirrel has a limited habitat range to begin with - it can only be found on the Delmarva Peninsula. Within this already small area, the squirrel has been eliminated from most places. Wye Island is a pocket of woods that still has everything necessary for a fox squirrel population; Blackwater also has some such areas, as does Eastern Neck NWR.  March is a good month for seeking them because their activity increases as their winter food stores begin to run dry. As I understand squirrel behavior in general, they are not hibernators but do spend most of the winter in their dens.

Migrating ducks and geese at Blackwater:

In this case the timing is the key. Migrating birds are directed by the lengthening days int he Spring, and so their journeys can be predicted with some accuracy after a few years of observation. Three species of geese, almost thirty species of duck, and tundra swans migrate through the Eastern mid-Atlantic every March. For several weeks, spots like Blackwater NWR provide havens for these birds on their journey between their two regular habitats (some, of course, stay in the region and can be seen more or less all year). Many, however, can only be seen in this general area during their migrations.


The Trip, and What I Learned

A turkey vulture

We didn't see any Delmarva fox squirrels, and we missed out on the migrating fowl. Yet this trip was in no way a disappointment. What we did see was lovely. Blackwater and Wye Island are both places I recommend visiting without hesitation. They are lovely landscapes and offer much in terms of bird-watching, even if the rare and migrating birds are absent. There is a viewing scope trained on a bald eagle nest at Blackwater, and the drive there meanders through several ideal raptor habitats. There are man-made nesting sights for Osprey, as well. Our day included sightings of: American robin, cardinal, American crow, mallard, Canada goose, osprey, great blue heron, turkey vulture, and bald eagle. There were also several small songbirds and several gulls and plovers, although I didn't try to identify these specifically. A final bird-related sighting was a cluster of owl pellets along one of the trails we hiked. Their coloration and contents suggested that we might have found the remains of a Delmarva fox squirrel.

jack-in-the-pulpit

Plant life is coming back into form for the spring, and so we also saw several lovely floral displays. Among them were dense coatings of mayapples and a few patches of jack-in-the-pulpit, the latter appropriately on a side trail called the "jack-in-the-pulpit trail." Also spotted were some cattails, lilies, and princess pines. Violets lined many segments of trail, adding a nice spring touch.

I learned a lot about the Delmarva fox squirrel, although very little about the ducks and geese we also didn't see. I have also resolved to take the word "endangered" more seriously. Our squirrel technically is only a subspecies of the fox squirrel, Sciurus niger; however, I understand there are those who contest that it deserves its own species (one can imagine Monty Python shouting "Splitter!" in anger). It is much larger than the common gray squirrels DC residents are familiar with, and has lighter fur with a white underbelly. In terms of behavior, it spends more time on the ground and prefers a higher canopy than its urbanized cousin. It is most active early in the morning, which I think contributed to our failure. I believe that the many species of fowl we had hoped to find were already gone; by now they are likely well-settled in their summer homes. We returned home from this trip having missed our objectives, but feeling nonetheless fulfilled by the beauty of nature.

12 Months of Nature: February

Like February (that most dismal of months) itself, the February section of  Seasonal Guide to the Natural Year was generally short and forbidding. When conceiving this project, I had expected some months to be easier than others, and even expected to fail spectacularly at achieving the aim of my journey once or twice. But after reading my options for February, I despaired of even being able to put together a trip worthy of this blog... would "12 months of nature" become "11 out of 12 months of nature" so soon?

Option 1, "Winter Hawks" sounded promising until I discovered that all of the recommended spots were prohibitively far away. Option 2, "Tracking" seemed a little too general and unexciting for my purposes. Options 3 and 4 were titled "Lake Eerie Steelhead,"  and "Exploring Winter Beaches," respectively - both of which were also out because of travel time. The final option, "Pelagic Birding Trips," sounded fascinating but requires much more organization than I had the time or inclination to put together. Frankly, I had to look up the word 'pelagic' anyway.


February Event: Tracking

My choice of a human footprint here doesn't mean
I failed entirely...

So, I chose "Tracking" from the list above. I could have instead resigned myself to traveling a greater distance than I wanted to with a good chance of not seeing the hawks or steelhead I sought. The payoff might have been far more interesting. But the conservative approach meant that it would be hard to fail. One of my favorite places, Shenandoah National Park, was a recommended destination. There was the possibility of snow, which would only make track identification easier, in theory. Besides, the point of tracking isn't necessarily to find fauna itself, but to understand and interpret signs of its presence and impact on the environment.



The Location

I have repeatedly talked about this place, and I'm sure it will come up over and over again in this blog. So I won't bore you with redundancies (except in link form). Looking back, though, it's hard to believe I only have one post solely about Shenandoah.

Why there, and Why then?

Well, the guide was right about one thing. There was definitely snow.

The answer to "why there" was sort of unclear... really, one can track anywhere outside. Animals walk, poop, eat, and so forth everywhere. I think the guide suggested Shenandoah primarily because there is a ton of open space, and because wildlife traffic is a lot higher than most places in this region of the US. I had an ulterior motive for going to the park that most of my readers are aware of. So "why then," then? Well, I think they stuck "tracking" in February primarily because it was the toughest month to fill out with reasonable activities, but also because of the likelihood of snow.


The Trip, and What I Learned

Like the previous trip, this one was wonderful. Unfortunately I didn't learn much about tracking - I relied on a few things I already know and just enjoyed getting a good hike in in February. We got to the park pretty early, and chose one of our favorite spots: Mary's Rock. (There are those ulterior motives again). The last time we had done this hike was in the hottest part of the summer, so it was a nice change of pace (and still gorgeous) to hike it with a dusting of snow. What's nice about this hike is that although steep, it's less than a two-mile trip from the parking lot to the summit. And the view is spectacular.

The trailhead - per the sign, much of this hike is on the Appalachian Trail.

We thought this was beautiful - a veritable explosion of color amid the white, gray, and brown.

I have a couple of decent photos of the view from Mary's Rock itself, but I don't feel they do it justice. If you follow the link above there are a couple that almost get the job done, but it's one of those things you just have to see to appreciate fully. Luckily for DC denizens, it's not too far away and you don't have to be a marathon runner to pull off the climb.

When we were finished with that hike, we decided to make a quick stop at one of the park's other notable spots, Big Meadows. As usual, there were quite a few deer nearby (and signs of other fauna, which I'll get to). I have to say, though, that Big Meadows is pretty drab in the dead of winter. There's still a certain beauty to the place, and I'm glad I have seen it in its more dormant state, but I wouldn't put it at the top of my list for winter outings.

Big Meadows and one of the creatures it is famed for. As a nerd about such things, it has often bothered me that "Big Meadows" is a singular proper noun for a place composed of plural meadows. But I digress (as usual).

My guess is these were left by a squirrel. But it's hard to be
certain without a clear footprint.

 You don't even have to be an astute reader to wonder where the bit about tracking is, since that was after all the point of the exercise. Well, to be frank, we didn't find a lot of identifiable tracks, even in the snow. I think the amount of snow was such that it made it harder rather than easier - just enough to cover any visible tracks but not enough to leave good tracks. Also, the ground was still frozen. Any place where deer or some other large animal had clearly been was mostly torn up into a tangled mess. The clearest tracks were those left by fellow hikers and their canines. However, as you'll see below, footprints aren't the only signs one can use as clues to animal activity.

Deer poop

 I apologize for this next photo, but one just can't talk with any reasonable credibility about tracking without briefly discussing poop. It just can't be done. The scat at right belongs to white-tailed deer, although on this trip we also saw quite a bit of carnivores' waste as well. It could have been from foxes, coyotes, bobcats, or possibly just family pets. There was a lot of high fur content, though (you can tell just by glancing) so my guess is "coyote." In the past there was an unfortunate incident involving Franklin and some bear feces, but I don't want to talk about it. So end my scatological ramblings for the day.



A couple of other signs of note were some loose feathers, and some obvious groundhog trails. Photos of those are even more boring than photos of poop, though, so I'll let it go.

When tracking, what a good naturalist is really after is not just  an identity of what had passed this way, but a story of what it was doing and why. If the deer tracks are clustered in one muddy spot, what made them behave this way? Was it a predator? A mating display or fight for dominance? If there's loose fur, did the owner just get snagged on a twig or was there some sort of conflict? How recent are the tracks you're looking at? Was the animal moving quickly or slowly? One thing I noticed was that some of the deer scat was clustered into piles, while other spots were scattered. This led me to wonder why those particular deer were exhibiting divergent restroom behaviors. It's this type of question that can turn one from aware of nature's signs to an expert at interpreting them. Myself, I'm somewhere in between... I know how to ask the questions but not often how to answer them. Good guides on tracking do exist, though I can't offer much in the way of critique. If you're interested in learning how to track and "read sign" I suggest that you research these and select one... but it's really the experience that will teach you. I will leave you with my favorite deer picture from the day.

This young buck is showing his antler velvet... I've never managed a clear photo of this before, so I'll call it a win.

12 Months of Nature: January

I recently discovered a book titled Seasonal Guide to the Natural Year: A Monthly Guide to Natural Events - Mid-Atlantic. Despite the unwieldy title, I was pretty excited to get into it. You see, timing can be everything for the success of a naturalist's outing, and I have never been possessed of the keenest sense for this.* I gleefully proceeded to the counter, slapped down my two bucks, and sped home. (Thank you, Friends of the Library!)

As I began paging through it that evening, I immediately started to envision a new project for From the Suburbs, Naturally. The guidebook is presented in month-by-month format, with several natural events per month. Each of the sixty entries includes recommended locations for viewing these events within the Mid-Atllantic region. I've decided to choose one entry for each month in 2012. I will explore these for myself and chronicle my attempts here. This first one was a doozy - I kind of nerded out.


January Event: Bald Eagle Viewing

This is an ambitious start. Few North American animals are as revered or as majestic as the Bald Eagle. I'm not sure I'll be able to top it in the months to come. The photos are only so good, but this trip was a resounding success. Laurel and I were able to see dozens of birds, some at surprisingly close range and all quite active. I had no idea that there was such a population of bald eagles anywhere close to us.


The Location

The suggested viewing point for wintering bald eagles was Conowingo Dam. Located near Darlington, MD on the Susquehanna River (just after it flows from Pennsylvania into Maryland), this is about a 1.5 hour trip for DC residents. I don't recommend a weekday trip, as most of your driving will be on I-95 or US 1. For a pleasant Sunday, however, this spot was well worth the drive. The dam itself is kind of nifty, and it is a paradise for birders. It is just a short drive (or medium hike) from Susquehanna State Park, which is a small but pleasant park on the river's western bank. We spent some time there after the main attraction. It wasn't particularly exciting in January, but it has potential for a spring/summer visit.


Why there, and why then?

The eagles, along with many other bird species, have identified the dam as a reliable winter food source. It blocks not only water, but fish. Further, when water is released from any of the sluices, it deposits several of these fish in the shallows - often disoriented or dead. Bald eagle numbers climb in the winter, as other food sources grow more scarce - a couple of internet sources cite as many as forty birds counted.

Dam! (Sorry, couldn't resist.) Those rocks at the far right are the tip of an island where the birds congregate, waiting for meals.

The Trip and What I Learned

Something that was entirely new to me: not all bald eagles possess the distinctive white head. In fact, it takes about five years for this to develop, and the immature bald eagles look fairly similar to the golden eagle. I'm still uncertain if any of the birds of prey we observed were golden eagles. Some of them had white markings on the wings that were remarkably similar. A related tidbit: hawks and eagles don't display the marked sex differences in plumage known to occur in smaller birds. Sexing bald eagles can be accomplished by comparing size (see the second question at the link for more).


There was only one other car in the parking lot, yet I knew we were in the right place when we got out of the car and immediately saw an eagle take flight from a nearby tree. Turns out I was wrong... the Visitor Center where we parked was about a mile from the viewing area. When we got out of the car there, though, it was hard to deny that this was the spot. People with notebooks stood behind tripods with serious cameras. I heard a shriek to my left and lo, about forty feet up and almost straight overhead sat a pair of bald eagles. Those soon took to the sky, but were replaced by a spectacle: a dining eagle.

Welcome to Dinner!

I think I may have learned a birders' lesson: if the people with the awesome technology are there, you're in the right place. I have previously learned this lesson as it relates to cycling.

None of the other eagles came remotely close enough for me to snap even a passable picture, but this was far from the end of the activity. We stayed for perhaps two hours, and never went more than a minute or two without seeing one. This is definitely a must-see spot.


 Eagles, however, weren't the sole attraction for naturalists. This site presents a list of other species seen at Conowingo, with shorebirds the main attraction for more experienced birders. Apart from the eagles, we saw black vultures, great blue herons, Canada geese, mallards, and several species of gull. I am almost certain to return at least once when my knowledge base is broader. I'm sure picking out the various species of shorebirds would be fascinating.

There was one other item of note, and it's something of an oddity to me. I noticed several dead mice scattered around the viewing area. The first seemed perfectly normal. After two more I started to wonder. Of course we were there to see birds of prey, so I wondered if they were lost meals. That's pure speculation... it could be that the dam owners use poison, or that the (mild) winter has started to hit the mouse population. I'm partial to the "dropped dinner" theory, so I'll just pretend it's that.

For anyone who is interested, the peak season for bald eagles at Conowingo Dam extends into March, and they can reportedly be seen in smaller numbers throughout the rest of the year.


*Aside: it seems I am always bringing up naturalist skills which I am deficient in. I suppose it's a combination of youth and a desire to learn more.