Snowed In

Posted on January 14, 2014 by Kim

The mere threat of a snowstorm is enough to induce panic. We scurry to the store to buy milk, bread and eggs – obviously in desperate need of French toast – and then hunker down as if we won’t be free of our homes for a month. When the snow stops, all we can see is the hours of shoveling, and the icy roads on which we’ll have to skid our way around town. We’ve lost our childhood delight in the wonders of the falling snow, in the way it transforms even the most familiar landscapes.

Fortunately, there’s a cure for this malady, and it’s a simple as picking up a camera and looking at the white-frosted world through its lens.

During the storm, a Carolina chickadee finds shelter in a gray birch tree, while a dark-eyed junco finds plenty to eat under my bird feeders.

Mr. Squirrel ignores the food in front of him, and instead plots to raid the can of birdseed. The grass is always greener to our furry friend.

A sunny day right after the storm entices us out to walk the trails at Heinz NWR.

This is the first time I’ve seen the Refuge covered in snow, and it’s delightful. Even the most ordinary things take on a new look.

Our old friend the chicken fungus now wears the face of Old Man Winter.

Sparrows flit about among the grasses. We see tiny bird tracks and larger deer tracks everywhere. The snow is like Facebook for critters, recording their every movement for us to read.

Winter is the time for beavers to get busy.

Even a 2° morning has its charms. The polar vortex etches little ice feathers on my windows. Look quickly! The warmth of the house starts melting these beauties before I can even finish photographing them.

It’s so easy to come down with a case of snow panic with every storm. We all need to slow down, stop worrying and put down the shovel long enough to partake of the cure. An unhurried walk in a winter wonderland gives us a fresh look at our familiar world, and the gentle touch of Mother Nature’s magic lifts our souls.

Snowy Days Are Here Again

Posted on January 6, 2014 by Kim

It was the news report that finally did it.

All week long, by word of mouth and the Internet, I’d been following the dispatches of a horde from the North. But when reports actually appeared on the TV news broadcasts, I knew I’d have to do something about it. I knew I’d have to face the invaders myself.

I gathered my lieutenants and headed into the bitter wind on a hastily arranged reconnaissance mission.

And who were these invaders, these large, nearly white creatures, with sharp talons and luminous yellow eyes? Abominable Snowmen? No, snowy owls.

These large owls range from the usually all white adult male to females and juveniles who are white with dark bars and spots. In North America, they make their living on the grasslands and open tundra of the Arctic, hunting lemmings and other small mammals, by day as well as night.

In many years, New Jersey might see two or three of these large birds at most. But this year, since Thanksgiving, there have been reports of over twenty snowy owls in the state, many clustered along the shore and the Delaware Bay. Other Mid-Atlantic states are reporting similar influxes of owls. Reports of snowy owls being seen in Pennsylvania are coming in from Berks, Chester and Lancaster counties as well as State College and Presque Isle State Park on Lake Erie. The birds are turning up in Long Island, New York, Ohio, and Boston, as far south as North Carolina, and there’s even been one vacationing in Bermuda, and another in Florida.

What in the name of Harry Potter is going on?

Snowy owls are among a number of species of birds subject to winter irruptions in which large numbers of birds appear in areas far outside their normal range. These events are unpredictable in both their frequency and intensity. It would appear that the winter of 2013-2014 is shaping up to be an irruption year of historic proportions.

CONSERVATION PIECE: Experts are divided on the cause of the irruption. The easy answer is the cyclical fluctuation of the lemming population, their main food source up north. The owls may produce large numbers of owlets when lemmings are abundant but skip breeding altogether when prey is scarce. The driving force behind the irruption may well be an overabundance of prey, leading to an owl population boom. Come the Arctic winter, there are more owls than available food. There may be other factors involved, however. At this point, ornithologists have more questions than answers.

FUN FACT: The snowy owls are looking for treeless areas that resemble the tundra they’re used to, so they’re most likely to be seen in places like beaches, marshes and fields, and, oddly, airports. In fact, in the highly developed Northeast, where native grasslands have all but disappeared, airports may be the best available open habitat for these birds. Sightings of owls – and conflicts with aircraft – have occurred at several airports along the East Coast

After researching the latest owl sightings online, Robb, Don and I decided our best chance of seeing a snowy owl would be at Forsythe NWR at the Jersey Shore. We thought the best we’d do would be a short look at one fairly far away, so when we got a good look at this bird above looking out over the marsh, we were pretty pleased.

Little did we know that there was another owl further down the road, calmly sitting on the rocks not 30 feet from a large group of birders and photographers. Look closely to see it perched at the water’s edge just right of center, above. We watched this white beauty for at least a half hour.

We spoke in hushed tones as the bird calmly preened, running feathers through its beak one by one. When it was time to move on, it was hard to tear ourselves away. Since that day, there have been many more reports of owl sightings, and it appears they are here for the winter. I am hopeful I will get another chance to see another of these majestic birds, but my first encounter with a snowy owl was a real hoot!

LOCAL FOCUS: If you are interested in seeing these magnificent birds for yourself, there are a number of opportunities. Check the Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology’s online bird survey, eBird, which has been tracking the irruption thanks to reports of hundreds of amateur observers. Their article on the phenomenon includes links to real-time maps showing the most recent sightings. http://ebird.org/content/ebird/news/gotsnowies2013/

Happy Whoo Year!

Coming up: Snowed In

Christmas at Longwood Gardens

Posted on December 20, 2013 by Kim

As the year comes to a close, our souls protest the darkness of the oncoming winter. We must have light! Little wonder that many of our varied holiday traditions glow with strings of twinkling bulbs and shiny baubles.

On a cold, dark night, the holiday displays at Longwood Gardens are a particular delight for the eyes and the heart.

On entering the Main Conservatory, visitors are greeted with a towering tree trimmed in glass, glitter and feathers. White flowers and greenery line the dark pools and fountains.

Treasures of Christmas Past adorn a stair hall.

A child’s whimsical interpretation of Rudolph.

In the Orangery, the trees bear both fruit and delicately woven ornaments.

Oh, look! Here is a table is set for a festive holiday wedding! Polished silver and sparkling crystal gleam among the flowers and gifts in red and white.

When the sun sets, Longwood Gardens really shines. Lights twinkle from luminous trees everywhere you turn. Even a new moon adds its radiance to the festivities.

The Conservatory, aglow from within and without.

In this season of light in the darkness, I wish for a world without war, famine, poverty and pollution; a world where every creature has a healthy and protected home; a world where all people live in peace and prosperity.

Whatever your traditions may be at this holiday season, I wish for you good friends, good food, and good cheer!

The Wild Edge will return in early January. A Snowy Day!

Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher. – William Wordsworth

Dallas, On the Wild Edge

Posted on December 15, 2013 by Kim

Winter scenery from deep in the heart of Texas. All in an urban or suburban setting. All within a short drive of Dallas.

Great-tailed Grackle at White Rock Lake, above.

Snow Goose, White Rock Lake – the “Blue Goose” color morph.

Eastern Fox Squirrel, White Rock Lake.

Monk Parakeets, White Rock Lake.

American White Pelican, White Rock Lake, above and below.

Trinity River Audubon Center.

Harris’s Sparrow, Trinity River Audubon Center.

Spotted Towhee, Trinity River Audubon Center.

Canvasback, Cedar Hill State Park.

Cactus, of course. Cedar Hill State Park.

Greater Roadrunner, Cedar Hill State Park.

BEEP-BEEP!

Coming up: Christmas at Longwood Gardens

The Kids’ Table

Posted on December 10, 2013 by Kim

Life’s tough when you’re a juvenile Bald Eagle trying to get your share of the Thanksgiving feast at Conowingo Dam. Young fellows like this one above have to fight for their meals. It’s all tough love once an eagle reaches adolescence.

It takes four or five years for a Bald Eagle to reach maturity. They won’t get their characteristic white heads and tails until that point. Before then, their plumage is primarily brown, mottled with varying amounts of white.

Remember being stuck at the kids’ table on holidays? Now imagine that just when a nice plate of food is served, one of the grown-ups suddenly steals your place, and your food.

This young eagle knows exactly how that feels. He’s successfully caught a fish and landed on the dam to eat his meal…

Only to have an adult swoop in, chase him off and settle in to enjoy the ill-gotten gains, while he’s left to beat an unceremonious retreat.

Fun Fact: Bald Eagles are thieves by nature. They will harass each other and other birds like Ospreys until their victim drops its prey. They also eat carrion when it’s available. Probably why Benjamin Franklin dismissed them as birds “of bad moral character”.

Juvenile eagles must learn how to catch prey. They do this by watching their parents when they’ve first fledged. Gatherings like at Conowingo offer juveniles invaluable opportunities to watch the adults fish – and steal fish. Even thievery must be learned.

It’s all a life lesson. If juvenile eagles don’t learn to stand up for themselves, they won’t survive. Here’s a plucky youngster trying his best to steal a part of an adult’s dinner. The adult is having nothing of it, however. Hey, can’t fault a guy for trying!

I wonder if either of the two eaglets that were born at Heinz Refuge this spring is among the juvenile eagles at Conowingo this fall.

Fun Fact: Eagles have extraordinary eyesight, far sharper than ours. They can spot a fish in the water from hundreds of feet up, all the more remarkable because most fish blend in with the riverbed below. Dead fish are easier to see, as they usually float with their light bellies up. Young eagles still learning to hunt sometimes goof and attack plastic bottles instead.

Gotcha! What this young eagle lacks in style, he makes up for in fish.

For more information on the recovery of the Bald Eagle in Pennsylvania, here’s an interesting video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4DK0sCiMd8&feature=youtu.be

Conowingo Dam

Posted on December 5, 2013 by Kim

The Conowingo Dam on the Susquehanna River in Maryland is a 4,648 foot long power plant with 11 turbines capable of producing 572 MW of electricity when running at peak capacity. Also known as the Conowingo Hydroelectric Generating Station, when it was constructed in 1928 it was the second largest hydroelectric project in the United States, bested only by Niagara Falls. With a maximum height of 94 feet, it consists of four distinct…

“WAIT!” you’re saying. “This is supposed to be a nature blog! Why are we talking about a DAM? What could possibly be of interest to us there?”

Well…

This:

And maybe this:

And even this:

Five Bald Eagles in one shot? (And there’s a sixth in the picture somewhere. Can you find it?) Yes, folks, this was taken just downstream of Conowingo Dam, and those eagles represent maybe 5% of the eagles present there on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. 154, by one very approximate count. Every fall, in November and December, eagles gather downstream of the dam in large numbers. 50, 100, sometimes even more.

“What for?” you ask. Fish, of course. When the turbines are running, fish get sucked through the intake tubes and are discharged below the dam, stunned or dead. Easy picking for piscivorous (fish-eating) birds like Bald Eagles.

“Why late fall?” you ask. The dam only operates when electricity demand is high. In other words, late fall and winter. By January, most eagles are returning to their nesting sites to raise a new family, and they will be tied to those sites through the summer. But in the fall, they are free to go where the fish are, and in my area, that’s Conowingo.

Birders in the know flock to Conowingo to watch the spectacle. Photographers, too. All the cold weather gear was necessary; it was 25 degrees. Definitely not for the faint of circulation. I lost my feet after the first hour.

You have to be prepared to wait a long time; it’s not non-stop action. Even though several turbines were running when I arrived at 8 AM, the eagles were very quiet, content to perch on trees or rocks across the river and wait. One or two were obliging enough to perch in trees directly behind us and pose. Or maybe they were amusing themselves watching all the stupid humans shiver.

The wait paid off after more than an hour when more turbines started up. Fifteen minutes later it was like someone had thrown a switch: suddenly it was a Bald Eagle Bonanza. There were eagles catching fish. Eagles dropping fish. Eagles fighting over fish. Eagles stealing fish from other eagles. Sometimes I didn’t know which bird to follow. Other times they flew so close overhead I couldn’t zoom out fast enough.

Bald Eagle diving on a fish in the Susquehanna River. Note the four other Eagles in the tree in the background, waiting for their chance.

Approach Landing gear down In-flight food service.

And away we go with dinner.

Conservation Piece: This bird looks worried. About the American shad, perhaps? This migratory fish lives in the ocean, but returns to freshwater rivers like the Susquehanna to spawn, usually during the spring or summer. Their numbers have been seriously depleted by fishing, water pollution – and the construction of dams like Conowingo, which block passage to their spawning grounds. Exelon, who operates the dam, has been working to restore the American shad to the Susquehanna River through the operation of two fish lifts at Conowingo Dam. The company has also built a Fisherman’s Park at the foot of the dam, for fishing, bird-watching, and photography. They even run an annual Bald Eagle Photo Contest!

Coming up: The Kids’ Table

In the Cave

Posted on November 28, 2013 by Kim

Once upon a time, when I was a small child, my father and I shared a nighttime story ritual. He would sit by my bed and weave intricate tales of the adventures of two young explorers. Our heroes hiked the deep North Woods, climbed tall mountains, built and sailed wooden ships, braved fierce blizzards, and paddled their canoe through tumbling white water. I would drift off to sleep with the sound of the wind whispering in the pines and the scent of wood smoke wafting through my dreams.

Nothing made as big an impression on my youthful mind as the time our young daredevils went spelunking. My father drew an image so detailed that I could see those caves as if I was there: a warren of rooms small and large filled with stalactites, stalagmites, weird rock faces, and glittering crystals. There were chimneys soaring toward the sky, deep drops into darkness, underground rivers, tiny tunnels that suddenly opened into cavernous spaces, and everywhere the drip-drip-drip of water.

I am quite sure that my love of nature was born from these nightly tales. And I don’t think it’s any coincidence that I should feel so at home on my first-ever visit to a cave last weekend.

The cavern in question is Crystal Cave, a small limestone cave a little over an hour from my house. It was discovered in 1871, and became the first tourist cave in Pennsylvania. Today you can take a guided tour 125 feet underground to see the weird rock formations and sparkling crystals that adorn the maze of rooms in this cave.

FUN FACT: Caves form when rainwater seeps through cracks and fissures in the sedimentary bedrock of the ground. If the rock has a high content of calcium carbonate, like limestone, the rainwater forms an acid which eats through the rock, creating tunnels and caves. Dripping water leaves deposits of calcite behind. These are the “speleothem” or formations of the caves, such as stalactites and stalagmites, columns, flowstone, draperies, even “cave bacon”.

Many of the individual formations in Crystal Cave have their own names, like the Prairie Dogs, the Ear of Corn, the Giant’s Tooth, and the Indian Head. I don’t know the official name for this, but I call it The Michelin Man.

The cave giants made a cake one day, and spilled vanilla icing everywhere…

Draperies.

Fried Eggs on the floor of the cavern. They’re very small, just a few inches across.

I’m sure this formation inspired an alien on Dr. Who.

Or two or three.

It’s flowstone, more colorfully called a frozen waterfall.

Stalactites and draperies.

Many caves have extensive water features, underground pools and even rivers. Crystal Cave is a bit lacking in this department, with only one small pool a foot or two across.

They call it…Lake Inferior.

I’ve heard of a cave where the entire tour is by boat…

Hawk Mountain

Posted on November 20, 2013 by Kim

Welcome to the Endless Mountain, a long ridge known as Kittatinny that stretches 300 miles from Maryland northeastward through Pennsylvania and New Jersey into southern New York. Hawk Mountain Sanctuary sits on that ridge, and is internationally known as a premier place to watch the spectacle of fall raptor migration. Cross winds that hit face of the ridge create updrafts that southward migrating raptors use to carry them over the mountain.

On a clear fall day, with a northwest wind after a cold front, one might be treated to hawks, falcons and eagles flying past in large numbers and at close range. The day Colleen, Erika and I went to Hawk Mountain was not one of those days. It was a fun fall outing for us anyway.

Hawk Mountain is in the Ridge and Valley ecoregion, and is completely different from the flat Atlantic Coastal Plain of Heinz Refuge and southern New Jersey that I spend so much time in. For starters, there are hills. LARGE hills. Then there are the rocks. These range from small stones to enormous boulders. Like these at Bald Lookout (above).

From South Lookout we could see the River of Rocks below, a geologic feature that looks like water but is actually an Ice Age boulder field.

The Lookout Trail was easy at first, well-groomed and relatively flat. Along the way we spotted a few small birds, including this Hermit Thrush (above) and a Tufted Titmouse (below), who was not giving up his leaf toy without a fight.

After Bald Lookout, the trail became much more rocky and challenging. There’s lots to see along the way, though, and stopping to look is a great excuse to catch your breath. The variety of mosses scattered among the stones made for an interesting vignette (above). A lot of the rocks like this one (below) are covered in lichens.

We finally arrived at the North Lookout, and here I learned a valuable lesson: camera and binoculars go INSIDE the daypack at Hawk Mountain while on the trails. I overbalanced on a boulder and sat down VERY hard. I was lucky, just a scraped shin and bruised bum, but I could have done some significant damage to my equipment.

Okay, folks, we’re here and ready for the Raptor Show! Apparently the hawks didn’t get the message. On this day, the birds that flew over the ridges were so far away as to be no more than specks. The official spotters, who were armed with scopes, told us that we saw Red-tailed and Red-shouldered Hawks, and even a Golden Eagle, but they all looked like little black dots to me.

Dear Mom and Dad, I went to Hawk Mountain and all I got was this lousy Turkey Vulture…

Even the hills were shrouded in mist, muting the brilliant fall color and making landscape photography difficult. Nestled in among the trees were some farms and little towns, just visible through the haze.

Of course, within ten minutes of leaving North Lookout, the sun broke out and the sky turned brilliant blue. No doubt the hawks were laughing at us hapless humans. I think even this little chipmunk was laughing at us. But we enjoyed the day, so we had the last laugh!

CONSERVATION PIECE: During the Great Depression, the Pennsylvania Game Commission paid $5 for each hawk killed, which led to the widespread slaughter of raptors. Hawk Mountain was a popular place to stand and shoot hundreds of passing hawks for sport. Conservationists began to oppose the killing, and one ornithologist recovered and photographed the abandoned carcasses. Those photographs reached a New York activist named Rosalie Edge, who in 1934 leased 1,400 acres on Hawk Mountain and immediately imposed a hunting ban. The next year she opened Hawk Mountain to the public to watch the hawks migrate. She then purchased the land and gave it to the Hawk Mountain Sanctuary Association in 1938. Hawk Mountain has been a wonderful place to witness the marvel of migration ever since.

Want more information? http://www.hawkmountain.org/

Historical photo courtesy of Hawk Mountain Sanctuary Association http://www.hawkmountain.org/who-we-are/history/page.aspx?id=387

The Search Continues

Posted on November 12, 2013 by Kim

If you would seek Lady Autumn, you must tackle the quest with tenacity. Her Ladyship will not show her brilliant colors in places that are easy for you to attain. Slow treks over rocks and steep slopes may well be the order of the day. And you may be left with bruised legs, bruised bum and bruised ego at the end of that day.

Was it worth it? You be the judge. Hail the Queen, wearing a misty veil on Hawk Mountain.

If you would seek Lady Autumn, you must practice patience. Her Ladyship is not to be rushed. She will sample the many garments and baubles in her wardrobe over days and weeks before she achieves perfection in her raiment.

You must be willing to wait for her; she arrives in her own time. But when she does, what a show she puts on!

Hail the Queen, fashionably late at Heinz Refuge.

If you would seek Lady Autumn, you must not dally. Her Ladyship does not linger long in her best adornments. Tarry even a little and you will be met with only bare branches and leaf-strewn paths.

Fear not. If you are willing of heart, even you, O Couch Potato, may find some lingering tokens of her presence.

Hail the Queen, playing peek-a-boo at Marsh Creek State Park.

Have you seen Autumn?

Coming up: Hawk Mountain

Looking For Fall

Posted on November 6, 2013 by Kim

Has anyone seen Autumn?

I’ve been searching for her everywhere. Autumn is an elusive elf, playing peek-a-boo among the trees, teasing us with glimpses of bright color, evading us when we look too hard, then turning up where we least expect her.

Could September’s seaside goldenrod be a feather boa in her wardrobe?