Your narrator's car, perched along the verge of a Jackson County, Ohio lane, deep in the boondocks. I was down there yesterday to participate in the Beaver Christmas Bird Count - about the 20th year that I've done this count. Tis the season for bird counts; the count period began Saturday. I started doing CBC's when I was just a young lad, long before I had a driver's license, and have participated in nearly 100 to date.
The weather isn't obvious in the photo, but it was dismal. The temperature at 8 am was 34 F, and rose to only 37 F. Frosty temps are no problem, but the nonstop rain that ranged from light to moderate showers was an issue. To me, there are no worse weather conditions than drenching rain at temperatures just above freezing. Makes it much harder to find birds.
One unfortunate aspect of covering the same turf for many years is the negative changes one sees. Last year, the open area above was a wet thicket buffered by goldenrod meadows. For many years I pulled Swamp Sparrows and many other species from this plot. No more - cleared, and drained.
Sorry for the dreaded white sky background in these photos, but there's nothing I could do about that. White skies are the absolute worse for photographic backdrops, and we get a lot of those skies in Ohio winters.
On a more uplifting note, I was cruising this backwoods lane when I came across a nice thicket of Smooth Sumac, Rhus glabra. It's the plants on the left, adorned with reddish-brown clusters. Sumac is a gold mine for birds in the winter.
Here's a closeup of the fruit of Smooth Sumac. Each panicle is loaded with (apparently) tasty and nutritious fruit, and come lean times, frugivorous (fruit-eating) birds dig into them with gusto.
As I trolled up to the sumac, window down, I quickly heard and saw American Robins. Lots of robins. I estimated about 95 birds were flying around, dropping in to pluck sumac fruit, whisper-singing, and generally greatly enlivening the woods. This first-year robin stands guard by a nice cluster of sumac fruit.
One effect of having a big flock of active robins in a large woodland is that their hustle and bustle attracts lots of other birds. The sumac entices the robins. Their conspicuous activity draws many other birds who then forage in the vicinity even though the hangers-on aren't necessarily after the sumac's fruit. I probably had at least a dozen species in the mixed flock with the robin nucleus. In the songbird world, plants ultimately orchestrate the show.
Our young robin digs in. He and his brethren plucked many a berry in the time that I hung out and watched. Some of the fruit will probably pass through the ravages of the birds' digestive tracts intact, and thus new sumac colonies may spring up elsewhere. Birds do not get their due as avian Johnny Appleseeds.
The robin sates its hunger, one berry at a time. Just that one sumac panicle hosts hundreds of fruit.
In winter, this is the species that I key in on the most around sumac thickets, the Hermit Thrush. Sure enough, it wasn't long before I heard the distinctive low chuck call note. Shortly thereafter, the thrush flew in and also began harvesting sumac. Were the weather not so unpleasant, I probably would have found more than this one Hermit Thrush. They are more common than is generally thought in winter; searching sumac is key to finding them.
Every yard would benefit from having an assemblage of sumac. Native plants such as these are incalculably more valuable to birds and other animals than the all too common nonnative garden fare. In the sumac world, at least in this part of the world, the best bang for the buck probably comes from the aforementioned Smooth Sumac, and Staghorn Sumac, Rhus typhina. See if you can find some at an enlightened nursery, and stick 'em in the yard.
In the above photo, we see Smooth Sumac in full flower in mid-summer. The oceans of tiny greenish-yellow flowers attract legions of interesting pollinating insects. When I am out and about, camera in hand, and spot flowering sumac I always veer over for a look. I've obtained many a great insect image at these flowers.
By mid-August or so, the sumac thickets are sporting bright reddish-brown candelabras of long-lasting fruit. Come winter, it is there to provide sustenance to robins and other thrushes that are trying to ride out the northern winter.
Keep in mind next summer's Midwest Native Plant Conference in Dayton, Ohio: August 1st thru 3rd. That's an awesome venue to learn more about native flora, buy quality plants, and generally have a great time.
A romp through the diverse flora and fauna of Ohio. From Timber Rattlesnakes to Prairie Warblers to Lakeside Daisies to Woodchucks, you'll eventually see it here, if it isn't already.
Showing posts with label catharus guttatus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label catharus guttatus. Show all posts
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Thursday, July 5, 2012
This you must hear: a Catharus guttatus aria
A Hermit Thrush, Catharus guttatus, peeks shyly from dense cover. What this speckle-bellied thrush lacks in visual pizzazz is more than compensated for by an awesome set of pipes.
The incomparable nature recordist Lang Elliott has produced a masterpiece of Hermit Thrush song, and you simply must listen to this work. Lang took an eighteen year old recording made by Ted Mack, and remastered it by slowing, stretching, stitching and compressing, and ended the melody with a flourish by a White-throated Sparrow (which was a background voice on the original recording).
Listen to Lang's Hermit Thrush aria RIGHT HERE. Keep in mind that complex tunesters such as thrushes and many other songbirds hear in ways that we don't, and Lang's remix may be far closer to what Hermit Thrushes hear, as compared to what our tin ears detect.
Check out Lang's and Wil Hershberger's always interesting blog HERE. You'll want to bookmark this bit of the Internet.
The incomparable nature recordist Lang Elliott has produced a masterpiece of Hermit Thrush song, and you simply must listen to this work. Lang took an eighteen year old recording made by Ted Mack, and remastered it by slowing, stretching, stitching and compressing, and ended the melody with a flourish by a White-throated Sparrow (which was a background voice on the original recording).
Listen to Lang's Hermit Thrush aria RIGHT HERE. Keep in mind that complex tunesters such as thrushes and many other songbirds hear in ways that we don't, and Lang's remix may be far closer to what Hermit Thrushes hear, as compared to what our tin ears detect.
Check out Lang's and Wil Hershberger's always interesting blog HERE. You'll want to bookmark this bit of the Internet.
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