Ohio Birds and Biodiversity

Photo: Phil Fry.

This bird was on Kaiser Lake in Champaign County today, and was yet another county record in the ongoing invasion.

Red-necked Grebes are normally a rare sight in Ohio, or anywhere else in the interior U.S. south of the Great Lakes and away from the Atlantic Ocean. Not this spring, however - these chunky grebes have staged an invasion of epic proportions; a movement previously unrivaled in scope. I wrote in more detail about the likely origins of these birds, and the reasons for their massive invasion of interior eastern North America, RIGHT HERE.

If you know of any additional county records not depicted on the following map, please let me know. It's been tough to try and keep track of all the Red-necked Grebe reports that are bombarding various forums, and I haven't yet made a detailed eBird analysis to try and pick up additional records.

UPDATE: I posted this map, with a plea for additional sightings, to various Facebook birding pages today. A whopping 53 new birds came in, as well as one new county. Thank you to everyone who contributes your sightings, whether it be to Facebook, the Ohio Birds Listserv, eBird, or anywhere else. An updated tally appears below the map.

I cobbled together this map showing the Ohio records. Data comes from reports submitted to the Ohio Birds Listserv, various Facebook birding groups, the Cincinnati and Toledo birding websites, and direct reports. I'm quite sure there are other records floating around, and as always I welcome additions, deletions, corrections of any sort, and of course, any praise, however faint, is always welcome :-)

The map depicts a staggering invasion of Red-necked Grebes. Fifty-eight counties, and a total of 356 birds by my reckoning. This far eclipses the previous record flights, which took place in February and March of 1994, when 111+ grebes were tallied in Ohio, and 2003 when around 200 birds were reported. This year's irruption is not confined to Ohio; many eastern states are experiencing a similar incursion. And I'm sure we'll have additional records before April's end.

Photo:Hans Hillewaert/Wiki Commons

The Neotropic Cormorant, Phalacrocorax brasiliensis, is one to watch for in Ohio. I believe we could be considered well overdue for an appearance by this diminutive relative of the Double-crested Cormorant. New Jersey birders are relishing that state's first record as I write this, and with luck Ohio birders will soon confirm this species in our state.

Neotropic Cormorants are very similar to the Double-crested Cormorant, and vagrants are likely to be fraternizing with that species. The first thing that will probably catch your eye is the size differential - the Neotropic Cormorant is noticeably smaller than its robust brethren. It's over a half-foot shorter in length, and a full foot shorter in the wingspan department. Neotropics also weigh about a pound less on average, and that translates to a bird that appears daintier than a Double-crested. The tail also looks big in proportion to the rest of the bird. Problem is, there are two subspecies of Double-crested Cormorant (normally occurring in Florida and the Caribbean) that are also noticeably smaller than the typical Double-crested Cormorant subspecies that we get in this part of the world. Upshot: you can't go on size alone for a positive identification. The elfin Double-crested Cormorant subspecies could also conceivably appear here, too.

Rather than me rehashing field marks here, consult your Sibley or other good guide for identification characters. And go on high alert if you do spot a tiny cormorant.

This fine map by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology shows the overall distribution of the Neotropic Cormorant. It's much more widespread in the Middle and South Americas than it is north of the Mexican border.

This is the Birds of North America Online map, and it gives us more detail regarding the northern limits of the Neotropic Cormorant's range. The dashed lines and outlying red dots indicate vagrancy, although I'm not sure the Pennsylvania record is correct. At least I couldn't find verification on the PA rare birds committee website. Even if it is in error, Pennsylvania will probably get one soon. This is a cormorant on the march. The overall population is growing, and new nesting colonies are cropping up outside of traditional breeding areas.

The number of Midwestern and Great Lakes region records has soared in the last decade or so. Illinois has had at eight since 1992, and Indiana has had at least five since 2011. A Neotropic Cormorant in 2012 was practically within a stone's throw of Cincinnati, and another was found in the state just a few days ago.

Kentucky is up to at least two records - 2007 and 2013 - and just across the International border at Point Pelee in Ontario, Canada, they've found three in the past few years, including last year. Point Pelee is only 23 miles from Kelleys Island in Ohio waters. Even Michigan has had one, in 2008.

You get my point. Neotropic Cormorant is a very likely candidate to appear in Ohio, so don't ignore those cormorants!

I saw a lot of our great state of Ohio this weekend (as etched out by the red line). On Saturday, I visited one of my favorite places, the vast Edge of Appalachia Preserve in Adams County. I was invited to participate in a field trip hosted by Josh Knights, director of The Nature Conservancy, and he, TNC'er Briana Walsh, and I led some Edge supporters through the wonders of Abner Hollow.

An impossibly colored male Rainbow Darter stares slack-jawed at your narrator.

This morning, I met three of the most knowledgeable aquatic ecologists you'll ever cross paths with at Little Darby Creek in southwest Franklin County. I'll tell that tale, with plenty of pictures, soon. After our highly successful fishing expedition, I headed north to Huron on Lake Erie. A very rare (in Ohio) Scissor-tailed Flycatcher has been frequenting a golf course there for several days. I saw it and basked in the bird's presence for several hours, and got plenty of photos. More on that tomorrow.

In all, I covered about 500 miles this weekend, from the Ohio River to Lake Erie, and took well over 1,000 images in the process. I look forward to sharing some with you as soon as I can sort them all out.

Golf courses are not normal hangouts for me, and they're seldom birding destinations. That wasn't the case yesterday. After a busy morning capturing and photographing fish with some ace ichthyologists in Little Darby Creek in central Ohio, I pointed the Volkswagen north. As in two hours north, all the way to Huron on the shores of Lake Erie.

Last Thursday, April 10, Dan Gesualdo found a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher at the Sawmill Creek Resort golf course, pictured above. The course's western boundary abuts Sheldon Marsh State Nature Preserve, a birding hotspot that attracts many birders. Dan got the word out pronto, and several hundred birders have made the pilgrimage thus far. By the way, if you ever need a topnotch place to stay in the heart of some of Lake Erie's best birding areas, Sawmill Creek Resort is your place, and I say that from experience.

I arrived around 3 pm yesterday, parked in the nature preserve parking lot, and quickly strolled the 30 feet or so to the golf course. I saw a group of birders looking into a tree, checked it with my binoculars, and there was the bird! A few seconds later, it flew down to a fairway, enabling great views and allowing me to get the above photo.

As I've said here before, I am really not a hardcore lister, and never have been. Except when it comes to Ohio. If a bird shows up here that I've not seen in the state, it gnaws at me if I can't go for it right away. Scissor-tailed Flycatchers only show up here every few years - this one is only about the 20th record, ever. Those that have come to Ohio never stick around very long, and my schedule would not permit a chase until Sunday. So I was especially grateful that this flycatcher is so smitten with the golf course. This Scissor-tailed Flycatcher was #370 for me in Ohio, and I don't get the opportunity to add a new Ohio species very often anymore.

Soon after arriving, I ran into Shane and Laura Roberts. One great thing about mega-rarities is the crowds that they draw. I always run into friends at these scenes. Laura didn't rent the golf cart - the owner of the resort, Greg Hill, loaned it to her at his insistence! Before I got there, Shane and Laura struck up a rapport with Greg, and Shane took him over to see the bird up close. He was quite interested in the gorgeous flycatcher, and has been especially tolerant of visiting birders. Considering that the primary order of business here is golf and golfers, accommodating masses of optics-toting birders should earn Greg a medal from the ornithological society.

Part of the group ogles the flycatcher, which is teed up atop the small maple - furthest tree to the right. Scissor-tailed Flycatchers are not shrinking violets, and this one is no exception. He flew in and landed within 50 or so feet of the group on this occasion, allowing magnificent views by all.

The flycatcher returns from an aerial sally with an insect, one of many that it caught in the two hours that I was there.

It returns to the summit of a favored maple after making a successful yo-yo flight for a bug. This bird is either a first-year bird, or a female, and I presume it is the former. Adult males usually have even longer tail streamers, believe it or not.

I got lucky in capturing the bird as it flew in front of a distant cart driven by golfers. I believe they were watching the bird, too. The local paper ran on a story about the wayward Scissor-tailed Flycatcher and it has become something of a local celebrity. I stopped into the clubhouse, and the bartender knew all about it, and so do many of the links regulars, apparently. We showed the bird to several golfers and other interested locals. Showing someone new to looking at birds a spectacular Scissor-tailed Flycatcher probably has more impact than, say, a Henslow's Sparrow would.

Major props to Dan Gesualdo for finding this bird, and getting word out. The Sawmill Creek Resort Scissor-tailed Flycatcher has been seen by hundreds, and for many it was a state bird, and even a life bird for more than a few folks.

The spectacular vista from Buzzard's Roost Rock in the Edge of Appalachia Preserve, Adams County, Ohio.

Next Tuesday, April 22nd, is Earth Day. This annual celebration to promote our environment and its protection began in 1970, and millions of people worldwide participate in various Mother Nature-friendly activities on this day. I was delighted to be asked to give a program for Columbus Audubon on Earth Day, and enthusiastically accepted. The program begins at 7 pm, and will take place at the Grange Insurance Audubon Center at 505 W. Whittier Street in Columbus. It's free, and all are welcome. More details RIGHT HERE.

One of the strangest, and rarest, of Ohio's 46 native orchid species, the Crested Coralroot,Hexalectris spicata.

I've had great fun thinking about this talk, and assembling it. The history of the modern environmental movement in the United States is a fascinating tale, and one that I will touch on. It involves pollution unimaginable to most of us today, and a stepping stone series of great environmentalists who paved the way for eventual environmental reform. We must also thank one of our most infamous presidents, an accused spy, and a colorful warbler for the founding of the EPA and greatly strengthened environmental laws. It makes for an interesting tale.

Nearly indescribable in its beautiful intricacy is this tiny Juniper Hairstreak - one of over 130 species of butterflies recorded in Ohio.

I also plan to talk about the incredible wealth of natural history in Ohio, including the greatest land acquisition project in the state of Ohio.

A bizarre Mottled Sculpin, photographed in Little Darby Creek. The sculpin is like a living rock with a big mouth to snap up lesser beasts.

These Columbus Audubon meetings are always lots of fun, and I hope you can make it next Tuesday. Again, the details are HERE.

Little Darby Creek, in southwestern Franklin County, Ohio. The Little Darby, and its sibling stream the Big Darby, are among the most aquatically diverse streams in the Midwest. The riffle pictured above is especially noteworthy, particularly for its diversity of small colorful fish known as darters.

I was in the stream last Sunday morning, with some of the best aquatic ecologists around.

John Tetzloff (L) and Mac Albin work a seine in the creek's swift waters, while Anthony Sasson inspects a captured fish in the holding tank.

John is the longtime president of the Darby Creek Association, and a tireless advocate for the protection of the Darby Creeks. Mac is Franklin County Metroparks' aquatic ecologist, and no one knows the fishes of these streams better than he does. Anthony is freshwater conservation manager for the Ohio Chapter of The Nature Conservancy, and has spent many years working to ensure the conservation of these streams. You can see why I was excited to get afield with these guys, and I greatly appreciate Anthony's orchestration of this expedition.

A typical haul of the seine - lots of interesting little fishes.

My primary purpose was to make photos of seldom-seen fish, and seining them out of their riffle, ever so temporarily, is the best way to go about this.

Only once before, several years ago, had I endeavored to shoot photos of live fish, and the results were so-so. You can see them HERE. This time, I put a bit more thought into it, and definitely had better camera gear than before.

I lugged the small aquarium, shown above, out to the stream, and had the bottom of the tank pre-prepped with clean rocks. I even brought along a gallon of fresh distilled water. If you take water from the creek, even if it looks relatively clear, you'll find that all of the suspended sediments drift in the tank's water column and create a somewhat murky look.

So basically you capture fish with the seine, place them in small holding tanks, and place the subjects to be photographed into the modeling tank. After capturing images, the fish is released back into the stream with no harm done.

A Greenside Darter, Etheostoma blennioides, gazes at the camera. This darter and many of its ilk are astonishingly colorful. I suspect most people have no idea such tropical looking fish live in local streams.

When the creek water reaches certain temperature parameters in early spring, it stimulates physiological changes in the male darters. They become intensely colored - their breeding plumage, if you will. Darters in spring transform into the warblers of the underwater world, and it was this colorful group of fish that I really wanted to photograph.

In addition to keeping the fishy photography subject's best interest in mind, there is another compelling reason for shooting photos as quickly as possible once the animal has been removed from the stream. Once exposed to warmer water, such as in a tank, the brilliant breeding colors can soon fade, and of course we want to see them at their brightest.

I am reasonably pleased with how these photos came out, but upon review see room for improvement. While it may seem like "shooting fish in a barrel", photographing fish in this way isn't as easy it may look. It's hard to keep small bubbles from gathering inside the tank in places where they impinge on the photo. Sometimes reflections from objects outside the tank appear in the photo, although they aren't obvious at the time. Of course, much of this can be corrected with PhotoShop but I am a PS minimalist. Finally, the fish themselves are often less than cooperative, and extended herding and prodding with a long stick is usually necessary to get them into the best position for photos.

I believe this is a female Greenside Darter, but please feel free to correct me if I'm in error. I think someone may have called it a Fantail Darter, Etheostoma flabellare, but I may have gotten my fish mixed up. In any event, female darters are usually much duller than the colorful males, just as is often the case in the bird world.

Note how she sits on the bottom, propped up on her pectoral fins. Darters are members of the perch family, and most of them largely lack swim bladders. Thus, they sink rather than float. This is an advantage if you feed on the bottom, and wish to stay among the rock cobble of swiftly flowing riffles. If you wade into such a habitat and carefully watch the bottom, you'll probably see darters rapidly darting out of your way. Seen in this way, they just look like tiny black flecks rocketing off. It isn't until one does what we did that their true beauty can be fully appreciated.

A male Banded Darter, Etheostoma zonale. This species is common in Ohio's waterways in the Ohio River drainage. Interestingly, it has never found its way into the Lake Erie drainage.

An old warrior by the looks of him, is this Variegate Darter, Etheostoma variegatum. Note the rather tattered condition of his adipose fin (top, just before tail) and tail. As darters go, this is a large species with jumbos taping out at 4 1/2 inches. Accordingly, they typically occur in the fastest chutes and riffles of moderate to larger streams. One gets a real appreciation of the adaptations these fish have that allows them to operate in such waters when trying to stand in their fast riffles. If you are inexperienced in working streams, it can be hard to hold your balance against the current. Add a big seine that catches the water like a porous balloon to the equation, and falling in the drink is a real possibility.

I'll post Part II before long, as I've got even flashier photos to share. I am grateful for Anthony, Mac, and John for making this aquatic foray possible.

This mile long elevated wooden boardwalk is one of the most famous trails in North America. Winding through a 30-acre patch of swamp forest and wetland at Magee Marsh Wildlife Area, it is a destination for tens of thousands of birders, especially in May. In May 2012, traffic counter surveys conservatively estimated over 66,000 visitors made the pilgrimage to the "Bird Trail". The number may have been even higher, like around 75,000 or more people. And nearly all of them are birders, of every stripe and level of expertise. They come to witness the magic of Neotropical birds - flycatchers, vireos, thrushes, orioles, tanagers, and others. And, of course, WARBLERS! Nothing gets the blood flowing like warblers, and they are the standout stars in a cast of exceptional players.

It is possible to see over 100 species along the boardwalk and elsewhere in Magee Marsh on a good day. Most of the songbirds have come from the tropics: Central America, South America, the Caribbean. Many will have flown 1,500 miles or more northward to reach Magee, and the Bird Trail woods is but a way station as they journey to more northerly locales. Upon reaching Lake Erie, which at a glance through a songbird's eyes appears an endless ocean, the birds stop to rest and refuel. It's only 28 miles across the lake to Canada, if one takes the longest route, but most of the birds hedge their bets and stay to fatten up for a bit before making the crossing. And in the process, thrill thousands of birders who can observe the feathered transients at close range.

This scene is not atypical along the Bird Trail during the second weekend in May, which is the best timeframe for maximum bird numbers and diversity. Epic crowds to be sure, but a scene that everyone should experience. It's amazing to see so many birders gathered together, and one major plus is that virtually no Connecticut or Kirtland's warblers or any other rarity will go undetected.

The 25th anniversary of the Magee Marsh Bird Trail boardwalk is this year. A quarter-century of ever-growing foot traffic, coupled with the humid conditions of the swamp forest, has taken its toll on the wooden planking. The vaunted trail is in need of refurbishing.

Enter the Friends of Magee Marsh. This group exists to support the wildlife area and does so in many ways. Their latest and greatest project involves an ambitious fundraising effort with the aim of completely redoing the boardwalk. The Friends have already raised $25,000, and begun to transform dollars into boards. When you visit this spring, you'll see that sections of the boardwalk, at either end, have been replaced. In the photo above, old wood in the foreground meets brand spanking new lumber. The new wood should last for a long time to come.

A view down the steps from the tower near the boardwalk's west end. The punky old wood of the tower's spur trail is now fresh and new.

Ambitious efforts such as this don't come cheap. An estimated $300,000 is needed to complete renovations to the boardwalk. When you're at Magee this spring, you'll see this sign near the boardwalk. Please help support the project. If every birder who visited Magee in May dropped a fiver towards the boardwalk, it'd easily be a done deal.

Five bucks is a small price to pay to support the legendary Bird Trail boardwalk that has played such a huge role in North American birding. There is no entrance fee to gain access to Magee Marsh Wildlife Area, so perhaps this year you can donate a five dollar bill to the Friends of Magee Marsh, and consider it a one-time voluntary user fee that goes for an absolutely fantastic cause.

Major thanks go to the Friends of Magee Marsh for spearheading this project; be sure to give them your regards (and donation) when you're at Magee this spring. Or CLICK HERE to help.

This rainbow darter, Etheostoma caeruleum, is aptly named and would look right at home in a tropical fish tank.

Not long ago, I wrote an account of a recent excursion to Little Darby Creek, which can be seen HERE.I was indeed fortunate to accompany Mac Albin of Franklin County Metroparks, Anthony Sasson of the Ohio Chapter of The Nature Conservancy, and John Tetzloff of the Darby Creek Association. No one knows the fishes of Big and Little Darby creeks like these guys do.

We caught lots of fish, all of which were released back into the waters. We were "fish-watching"; temporarily detaining some of the stream's more colorful denizens so we could study them, and take photos. A pair of brilliant rainbow darters pose in the photo above.

Rainbow darters are common, and occur in streams nearly statewide. Nonetheless, few people have seen one and most might be surprised to know that such a riotously colored animal lurks on our stream bottoms. Although there are a number of rarer darter species in Ohio and in the Darby Creeks, the common rainbow darter is still my favorite. Although most of the other species are finned works of art, too, none of them can top the rainbow in the looks department.

At the very peak of breeding season, when the waters become just the right temperature, male darters shift their colors into overdrive. As many songbirds molt into bright alternate, or breeding, plumage, so do the darters in their own way. Seine up a rainbow darter in the heat of late summer, and it'll be a much muted version of the fish above. At the apex of the breeding season, some rainbow darters become heavily infused with blue, as is the animal in this photo.

It's not only darters that enter a "breeding plumage". A great many other stream fish do the same. This is our largest minnow species, the stoneroller, Campostoma anomalum. It is a very common stream fish throughout the state, and is rather tolerant of pollution and other forms of stream degradation.The curious name stems from their habit of grazing algae from rock cobble in the riffles in which they occur.

This male stoneroller is entering breeding condition, as evidenced by the appearance of warty tubercles on the dorsal surface of its head and back. Before long, it will also develop spectacular black and orange pigments in its dorsal and caudal fins, and the black etchings on its body will become richer and more pronounced. Many plain jane minnows briefly become quite festive in their coloration during breeding season.

Like many stream fish, stonerollers make a nest. The male hollows out a spawning pit near a riffle, and vigorously defends it from other males. An interested female will slink in and deposit her eggs within the spawning pit. In the case of the stoneroller, the male will abandon the nest prior to the eggs hatching, but some species of fish guard their nests right up to the point that the fry emerge.

A healthy stream bottom is its own little world, but one that is out of sight and largely out of mind.

While photographing and closely observing this stoneroller in the holding tank, I noticed something that was news to me. Scroll to the preceding photo, then back to the above image. Note how the fish can roll its eye in its socket. I always assumed fish, or most fish anyway, had their eyes fixed in the sockets. Maybe it was ignorant of me to think that, but then again, how often does one get to closely observe fish?

In the case of the stoneroller, it would make sense that it would evolve an ability to shift its eyes downward, the better to see potential foodstuff on the rocks below.

This is one of my all-time favorite fish, the mottled sculpin, Cottus bairdii. It is a bit more habitat-specific than the preceding two species, preferring smaller streams with cooler water temperatures than are found in larger rivers.

Sculpins lurk in the rocky cobble of riffles, and elsewhere on the stream bottom. They blend with their surroundings quite well, specially when among stones.

If you were a darter, or any other smaller animal, you would not want to glance up and find this face staring at you. Sculpins are predators, and snap up small fish and a variety of other stream animal life. The victims probably have little warning, as the cryptic sculpin would be hard to detect. For the prey, it is probably as if one of the riffle's rocks suddenly exploded to life, and sucked you in with a giant swallow of that proportionately enormous mouth.

Thanks again to Mac, Anthony, and John for an excellent field trip. I hope to do more of these aquatic forays in the future. Kudos too to their respective organizations for all of the work that they do to protect Big and Little Darby Creek. These streams are among the highest quality waterways in the Midwest, and it is imperative that they remain so. Most Ohio streams have not fared nearly as well, and as a result, even common fishes such as those that I've shared in these posts are not nearly as common as they once were.

Last Monday, I got an email from my editor at the Columbus Dispatch, Cindy Decker, telling me of some special residents of her neighborhood. As she lives along a well-wooded ravine only fifteen minutes from my place, I buzzed over that evening, camera in hand.

It took no time at all to locate the hootiferous beasts - Barred Owls! Here, the male gazes inscrutably at your narrator. These owls, as we shall better see, are quite used to people and pay us little mind.

The female, who was perched nearby, curiously watches some people walk below her lofty perch.

As Columbus' neighborhoods, especially in the Clintonville area, have aged, so have their trees. In the last decade or so, forest species such as Barred Owls and Red-shouldered Hawks have become commonplace, especially in the heavily wooded ravines. Even Broad-winged Hawks are now nesting in some areas.

Yes, I know - he/she's cute! This is one of three owlets that the parents were supervising. I probably would have gone over just to see the adult owls, but when Cindy said that the owlets were newly fledged and clambering about the trees, I was there in a shot. Yesterday was Earth Day, and I was honored to be asked to give a program that night for Columbus Audubon. And thrilled when about 270 people showed up! I started the talk off by sharing this owl family, and as soon as I put up the above photo, the predictable "oohs", "aahs" and "cute!" comments commenced. I'm thinking, "you wouldn't be saying those things if you were a white-footed mouse!" To a small rodent, snake, or amphibian this owlet is a fuzzy Freddy Krueger in training.

As noted, the owls were hardly bothered by our presence. As I snapped this owlet's photo, it dozed off. When it snapped back to attention, it began issuing rather shrill keening begging calls, as were its siblings.

Word has passed through the neighborhood grapevine, and there must have been several dozen people that came by to see the owls in the hour that I was there. Everyone is quite excited to have them as neighbors. Lots of kids were in tow, and gawking at the owls, too.

I'm sure that while I was giving my Earth Day talk yesterday, many more people were ogling these Barred Owls as the sun dropped.

Barred Owls are great ambassadors for Nature - far better than most of us could hope to be. I hope that these owlets were the "spark birds" for some of those kids that got to see them.

;

Photo: John Howard

Perhaps you've seen what appear to be tiny, excessively fuzzy hummingbirds tapping flower nectar this spring. These hummer wannabes hover in front of dandelions, spring-beautys and other flowers, extracting the goods via a disproportionately long proboscis. These are the bee flies, in the genus Bombylius. I believe John Howard's fine photo above, and mine that follow, depict Bombylius major, a common species in these parts. Don't stick a fork in me if I'm wrong, though - it's a huge family, and I'm no Bombyliidophile.

Photo: Wiki Commons

This is the nearly mythical whale of northern seas known as the Narwhal. One of its teeth is modified into a greatly elongated tusk, making it a unicorn of the sea. Skip back to the first photo, then revisit this Narwhal photo. The bee fly might be called a "fly-whal", and indeed it has been.

Photo: Wiki Commons

The Narwhals (females rarely have tusks) apparently have these protuberances as an outward sexual characteristic. The bigger the tusk, the bigger the stud, and the higher its status in Narwhalian social hierarchy.

The bee fly, on the other hand, uses its "tusk" to suck nectar from flowers.

On a recent excursion, I attempted to make nice photos of bee flies in action, but was thwarted by unusually uncooperative bee flies. I did manage this image, which shows one of the flies hovering before a gill-over-the-ground, Glechoma hederacea, and slurping up its sugary wares. That's what their tusk is for.

After much effort, I caught this bee fly in mid-hover last year. Territorial bee flies often hover for extended periods in sunny spots, chasing off other bee flies and other small winged critters. Most people who see one of these insects would consider them rather attractive, if not downright cute.

Bee flies, at least the aforementioned Bombylius major, are often found in the proximity of solitary bees.The animal above is a solitary bee in the genus Andrena, and they swarm about dry sandy areas in spring. Solitary bees dig tunnel-like burrows in the soil, which they provision with masses of pollen. Once an adequate stash has been stocked, the bee lays an egg or eggs in the burrow, and seals it off. When the bee larva emerges from the egg, it is as if it has been born into a giant ball of cotton candy. The grub eats its way through the pollen, and grows to maturity fueled by by tasty plant dust. This is about as Disneyesque as it gets in nature. Cute little bees that don't sting, digging charming little earthen bungalows, and feeding their offspring pollen.

A solitary bee digging a burrow. This bee had best hope a bee fly doesn't come along to shatter its dreams, and hopes of leaving a legacy. You see, the fuzzy little bee flies are parasitoids of solitary bees.

A female bee fly on the hunt lurks around the proximity of nesting solitary bees, awaiting the perfect moment. As the bee finishes its work in the burrow, and backs out to prepare to seal the entrance, the bee fly springs to action. She moves near, and flicks her eggs down into the chamber. If successful, the bee fly eggs get sealed in as well. You can guess the rest. The bee fly egg spawns a grub which eventually eats the host solitary bee's grub. And, apparently, the pollen, too.

Bee fly = 1. Solitary bee = 0.

Our crew scours a reverting clearcut high on a West Virginia mountainside this morning. Beautiful looks at Chestnut-sided and Hooded warblers at this very spot. Scores of other birds on this trip, starting with a field full of Bobolinks. We saw lots of interesting plants, salamanders, and other stuff as well.

I'm down here for (I think) the eighth straight year, coming directly to West Virginia from Shawnee State Forest in southern Ohio, where we celebrated the Ohio Ornithological Society's 10th anniversary last weekend. The New River Birding and Nature Festival is a fabulous, week-long event that draws people from near and far. It's a blend of field trips and speakers, fueled by good food and fun people.

We're seeing lots of good stuff, with lots more to come. If and when time permits, I'll try and slap some photos up. If you've sent me an email or some other form of a message lately, sorry for the lack of response as I'm mostly off grid until next Sunday.

Our group poses by the famous Honeycomb Rocks, high in the Monongahela National Forest, last Thursday. Bill Thompson, Rachel Davis, Mark Garland and myself led a trip to Cranberry Glades and vicinity last Thursday as part of the New River Birding & Nature Festival. To say the trip was a success might be an ornithological understatement, if I do say so myself. We tallied over 100 species, including point blank views of many boreal species near their southern limits in the West Virginia mountains. The beautiful Cranberry Glades Botanical Area harbors breeding Blue-headed Vireo, Red-breasted Nuthatch, Brown Creeper, Winter Wren, Golden-crowned and Ruby-crowned kinglets, Northern Waterthrush, Magnolia Warbler, Blackburnian Warbler, Black-throated Blue and Black-throated Green warblers, Yellow-rumped Warbler, and Canada Warbler, and we had them all.

Needless to say, this year's New River festival has passed, but they'll be putting on another next spring. Try to make it if you can.

On the wooded slopes just up from Honeycomb Rocks, the scene looked like this. Acres of large-flowered trillium, Trillium grandiflorum, mixed with red trillium, T. erectum, and scores of other wildflowers. As in Ohio, spring is delayed by a week or so, but that worked in our favor and allowed our crews to see many spring wildflowers that are normally past by the time of the festival.

We were pleased, strange as that may seem, to run across this large pile of Black Bear scat. The dung pile is entirely - or nearly so - comprised of skunk-cabbage, Symplocarpus foetidus. Black Bears are common in this part of West Virginia, and this one apparently ambled down the boardwalk grazing on the large foul-smelling leaves of the plant. According to lots of sources, bears chow on skunk-cabbage to unblock their intestinal system after emerging from hibernation. Compounds within the plant dissolve the anal plug that forms within the bear while it takes its long winter nap. At least that's what they say, and I can't imagine a more compelling reason for willfully ingesting such an ill-smelling botanical.

I'm back from eight days on the road, having led excursions every one of those days, along with a few talks thrown in. Lots of new material from these forays, and I'll try to toss some of it up here over the next few days.

The weekend before last saw the Ohio Ornithological Society descend upon Shawnee State Forest for their 10th annual conference. A portion of the 150 attendees poses on the steps of the Shawnee Lodge, above, which was base camp for the group. Following another gig here in Columbus on the morning of Saturday, April 26, I shot south and joined the group.

A big part of OOS conferences and symposia are field trips. We believe in doing our part in getting people out to see birds, and other facets of natural history. The group above is exploring a high, dry ridgetop occupied by Worm-eating Warblers, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Scarlet Tanagers and numerous other avian fare.

A steep slope carpeted with the rare (in Ohio) dwarf iris, Iris verna. After the polar vortex snow/ice/cold fest that was last winter, it was exceedingly pleasurable to see flowering plants again.

I was flattered to be asked to deliver the Saturday night keynote, and following that volunteered to take interested people into the gloom of the nighttime forest. So, an intrepid van full of us headed afield to seek Chuck-will's-widow and Eastern Whip-poor-will.

Photo: Wiki Commons

We had only made it to the back of the lodge's vast parking lot when we stopped and jumped out of the van to listen for the local whip-poor-will. He often sings in the nearby woods, but not tonight, at least when we were there. But I soon heard a spring field cricket, Gryllus veletis. This was the first one that I had heard this spring, and we paused to listen. Spring field cricket males produce the quintessential cricket chirp. This large black insect and its close relative the fall field cricket, G. pennsylvanicus are the ones that enter garages and homes and hide behind objects, driving homeowners wacko with their loud chirps.

Before long, I heard a much more subtle cricket vocalization from a nearby grassy swale. I pointed it out to the group, and we quietly stalked closer to the six-legged singer. This song was quite different from the spring field cricket: a low sputtering trill broken with frequent pauses. I recognized it from previous encounters in southern West Virginia - the southeastern field cricket, Gryllus rubens!

By a stroke of great luck, Paul Hurtado was on our trip, and had specialized recording equipment with him. Paul made a very nice recording of the cricket, and you can hear that RIGHT HERE. I shared the recording with orthopteran expert Wil Hershberger who agreed that it must be the southeastern field cricket. I probably should have taken the time to try and find the cricket - which can be difficult and time-consuming - for photographs. But I was probably already testing the group's patience, and we had secured Paul's great recording, which provided documentation.

Here's the range map of southeastern field cricket, from Tom Walker's fabulous singing insect site housed at the University of Florida. Visit it HERE, and read more about the southeast field cricket HERE.

A glance at the map shows why I was excited to find this cricket. The red arrow points to the approximate location where we found the animal - well north of the documented range. The insect is now also in southern West Virginia. The first time that I met Wil Hershberger, at the New River Birding & Nature Festival, he got out of his car, cocked his head, and pronounced that a southeastern field cricket was singing in the yard of Opossum Creek Resort, the festival's hub. That was the first West Virginia record, about eight years ago, and I heard several others in new locales on my recent trip to that part of West Virginia.

Several species of singing insects are rapidly expanding northward. Lisa Rainsong has documented the expansion of jumping bush crickets and round-tipped coneheads into northeast Ohio in recent years. I'm sure the southeast field cricket is probably in other places in southernmost Ohio, and those with an interest in such things - and the ear to hear them - should be on alert for this cricket.

Time & Optics, Ohio's most legendary vendor of optics. Many of us know the proprietor, Robert Hershberger, and I'll bet that more than a few people reading this have made the visit to Holmes County to visit Robert and his shop. If you want some binoculars or a scope (or a clock!), this is your place. CLICK HERE for more info.

Robert is a great birder, as are many others in his community. Because of the extraordinary concentration of ace birders in Holmes County, an extraordinary number of mega-rarities have been found in this area. Now we can add Rock Wren, Salpinctes obsoletus, to the rarity ranks.

This pastoral scene is where the wren hangs out. A pleasing place to chase a rare bird, for sure. I met up with Hallie Mason at Time & Optics, which is just a stone's throw out the right side of this photo. We got there at 8 am (this was yesterday), and along with some other birders plodded about fruitlessly for an hour or so. The Rock Wren works between several sets of buildings, and covers a fair bit of ground.

Finally, a wonderful woman rushed over to us and shouted that they "have the bird!" Yes! The only problem was that the wren was down by that green-roofed building, and I was a quarter-mile or so away. I began a brisk walk in that direction, and before long saw a small throng, all of whom had their binoculars fixed at a certain point. As I moved along, I stopped occasionally to try and pick up the wren, too, by scanning where they seemed to be looking. No luck, and well before I arrived I saw all of the birders drop their binoculars and watched as they pointed to the bird as it apparently fled up that grassy slope.

No luck - I wasn't close enough to spot it.

So, I/we immediately began a fast walk up the roadway to this house, which is where the wren headed to. Now I know that wrens are hyperactive bustling little busybodies, and I feared the bird was playing games. As soon as we arrived at this spot, I figured it would shoot back down the hill and to some other distant building. I would spend my day off chasing a pranksterish wren through the leas and around various outbuildings of Holmes County.

Luck was with us! We weren't at the spot in the previous photo for five minutes when Hallie spotted the animal. It obliging hopped from the flowerbed and posed briefly on a small retaining wall, allowing for photos. Bingo!

Rock Wrens breed throughout the western half of the United States, barely extending into Canada. They are extremely rare vagrants to the eastern half of North America; there might be two dozen or so records, ever. Prior to this bird, there was only one record in Ohio: December 7-14, 1963. That bird hung around rocky riprap at Cleveland's Edgewater Park. Needless to say, very few people who are still around have this species on their state list.

I mentioned that Holmes County sports an incredible density of topnotch birders. One of the stellar Holmes County birders is Michael Hershberger, and he works at Hostetler Wood, and that's where Mike found the bird. He walked out of the building, caught a glimpse of the western stray rummaging around some wooden pallets, and instantly nailed the identification. The rest is history.

Rock Wrens are well-named. They live in rocky canyons, gulches, and other stoney haunts, and use that long slender bill to ferret around in fissures and crevices. Here's a great quote about the Rock Wren, courtesy of John Janovy (Keith County Journal 1978):

"Salpinctes obsoletus is a very plain name for a bundle of fire known as the rock wren. It is heard, up on the bluffs, up in the rocks, but it is seen only by those who climb the bluffs regularly, and then it is seen only irregularly. . . . After reading even the most elementary writings of the rock wren I am shocked at society’s ignorance of this bird."

As of today, the little wayward wren is still present, and exciting an ever-growing legion of admirers. From my observations, the celebrity Rock Wren cares not a whit for his fan club. He/she pokes through the mulch beds and probes into cracks as if none of us were there.

As is the custom, a guest log was begun, and many a page is now full of names. Something like 500 of them, from all corners of Ohio and beyond. Many people probably didn't sign in, either - the actual attendance at the Rock Wren Meadows might be 700 or more people by this point. Most politicians can't draw a crowd like that.

Major thanks are in order to Michael Hershberger for making a truly spectacular and utterly unexpected find. Big thanks too to the operators of Hostetler Wood and everyone who works there. They've tolerated the birder invasion with remarkable tolerance and aplomb. Not all businesses would be so accepting of having our kind lurking around the buildings.

Oh, being as I am far too young to have tallied that 1963 Cleveland Rock Wren, this was indeed a state bird for me. #371 to be exact.

Your narrator (L) poses with friends Steve and Marian Moeckel, Marian's sister Barbara, and Jim Berry under the new archway at the entrance to the world famous Magee Marsh Wildlife Area"Bird Trail".

We were just a few of the many thousands of birders who descended upon the trail, as they do every year, to bear witness to an amazing migratory spectacle. The 37-acre patch of woods and wetlands bisected by the mile long elevated boardwalk offers some of the best birding in North America. People come from nearly everywhere - every state, and many foreign countries. Perhaps 75,000 birders will visit the area from late April through May.

I spent the past three days at Magee, and spent nearly all of that time on the boardwalk. The birds were fabulous - best on Friday, but Saturday and today were also very good. I really enjoy helping new or newer birders find and identify birds, and for the most part, that's what I did. In the process I did snap some photos, of course, and will hopefully find time to share a few more of them in later posts.

Tom Bartlett (seated on ladder, right) conducts his Big Sit, just as he has for many years. Tom goes up there around dawn, and doesn't descend until the day's end. He only counts birds that he sees or hears from the ladder, and his best tally was 112 species. Last I talked to him, he was at 100 with plenty of daylight left. Proceeds raised by Tom's per-species pledges go to support the work of the Black Swamp Bird Observatory.

A group of women took a break in a nice spot with a commanding view of Lake Erie. Can't blame them; after 8 or so hours on my feet I was ready to take a load off, too.

Perhaps the ladies in the previous photo were watching the numerous Common Terns pass by, as they fished the waters of Lake Erie. One of the groups that I helped lead enjoyed watching a male bringing fish to a female that he was courting, which he then offered to her.

Two American Woodcocks were on nests immediately adjacent to the parking lots. The female in the photo is incubating eggs just feet from high people traffic areas. The Division of Wildlife staff tape off the area to keep people a safe distance from the woodcocks, which don't seem put out at all. They nest in these sites every year.

Warblers, of course, get the lion's share of attention. This male Bay-breasted Warbler posed beautifully for an assembled throng of paparazzi, sitting just a few feet away in a box-elder. Such views are commonplace at Magee. Warblers are often at arm's reach, and I would not even hazard a guess at how many millions of photos are taken here each May. In all, at least 31 warblers species were found while I was there.

If you can break away, get to Magee in the next week or so. It's well worth the trip.

As is nearly always the case, I have a bounty of blog material; more than I can ever get to. But I must interrupt the irregularly scheduled programming to bring you something that is indescribably cool. I was commanding my keyboard this evening, attempting to whittle away at emails that I am hopelessly behind on (sorry if you've messaged and I haven't responded), when the inimitable David and Laura Hughes sent along some of their latest handiwork. I had to drop everything and prepare this post.

Enjoy.

I learned about this moth and its ilk last year, courtesy of caterpillar guru David Wagner. We were light-trapping last June in Adams County, when this moth flew into the lights. It is one of the aquatic crambids, the Canadian petrophila, Petrophila canadensis, I believe. Dave pointed out that it is an apparent jumping spider mimic, as are a number of others in the genus Petrophila.

The evolution of mimicry fascinates me, and I was instantly smitten. Note the moth's gemlike markings lining the top of the hindwings. Those are the faux spider eyes. Unfortunately, being nighttime, the moth didn't do anything but sit motionless, but they certainly can animate themselves as we shall see.

This is a real jumping spider in the family Salticidae (for "saltatorial", which means "leaping" or "jumping"). You've probably seen these small spiders. They are about as cute as spiders can get, and ambulate with astonishingly fast jerky little leaps.

The Hughes, while exploring an area of Athens County recently, encountered this small moth at rest on an ash leaf. It too is a Petrophila moth, but I am unsure of the species. Note its fake eyespots, just as in the moth in the first photo.

A side view. The moth is on alert, knowing that potential danger lurks. It hunches forward and elevates its wings, much as a jumping spider rises high on its forelegs when ready to pounce.

The hind view is extraordinary. If you were a small beast on the same level as the moth, you'd probably take pause when confronted with this creature, even if you were predatory.

While these photos are cool, and build a case for the jumping spider mimic theory, the proof is in the locomotion. Exceptional videographers that they are, the Hughes managed an incredible video of the moth in motion on the leaf's surface. Check it out below:

Video: David and Laura Hughes

The quick jerky movements of the moth are amazingly similar to that of a jumping spider. So much so that even an experienced observer of natural history could easily be temporarily fooled. Resembling a fiercely predatory spider is good insurance against attack by would-be predators who might think twice about lunging at an animal that might turn the tables on them. The evolutionary fits and spurts that lead to such fabulous mimicry over eons of time is endlessly fascinating.

Thanks as always to Dave and Laura for sharing their work.

A Rosy Maple Moth, Dryocampa rubicunda, glares menacingly at the camera. Well, it's looking as menacing as one can look when clad in hues of pink and yellow. These small silkworm moths are among the flashiest of the moths in eastern forests. They have been the "spark moth" for more than a few people, who, upon seeing one at a night light, become interested in the broader world of moths.

When at rest on an exposed twig or wall below a porch light, Rosy Maple Moths are utterly conspicuous. So much so that an observer is almost certain to wonder why it is so brightly colored.

The moth is well-named. Its primary host plants (the plants that its caterpillars must eat) are maples. Rosy Maple Moth caterpillars supposedly eat oak foliage, too, but it's definitely the maples that form the lion's share of the diet. The nut doesn't fall far from the tree, so to speak, and the adult moths will generally be found in close proximity to their maple hosts. Adult Rosy Maple Moths, by the way, do not eat. They are short-lived and exist only to find a member of the opposite sex, mate, and in the case of the female, drop eggs.

The showy little fruit dangling on pendant pedicels above are those of red maple, Acer rubrum, a common host plant of the Rosy Maple Moth. The maple fruit reach this stage in early spring, about the time that the hatch of moths commences.

A few weeks ago, Rachel Davis and I were leading a trip for the New River Birding & Nature Festival at Hawk's Nest State Park in West Virginia. Rachel had noticed a Rosy Maple Moth that was clinging to a wall under a nightlight - still present from the night before. We showed that to our group, and all were suitably awed by the festively colored moth. Then we noticed that the ground was littered with fresh red maple samaras (the term for the helicopter-like fruit of maples). The light bulb went off, and we began to harvest some of the more colorful fruit, as above.

Voila! We posed the Rosy Maple Moth on the fresh elm samaras, and suddenly its garish coloration made sense. I suspect that these moths ordinarily roost on hanging clusters of maple fruit during the day. In such a situation, the moth would nearly be invisible.

Nature is full of very cool adaptive camouflage, but this is perhaps one of the more interesting examples in our part of the world. At least, I think one could make a strong case that this explains the maple moth's showy coloration.

A patch of butterfly-weed attracts a lepidopteran blizzard of Eastern Swallowtails, Great Spangled Fritillaries, and Spicebush Swallowtails. Mid-summer is a great time to find lots of butterflies, of many species. Thus, the date of the upcoming Butterfly Workshop, hosted by the Midwest Native Plant Conference: Saturday, July 12.

A Silvery Checkerspot taps nectar from a Virginia mountain mint, one of scores of nectar-rich summer blooming plants.

The workshop will be held at the capacious and comfortable visitor's center at Caesar's Creek Lake in Warren County, southwest Ohio. This location is not far from Cincinnati, and is an easy drive from Columbus and much of the rest of Ohio and adjacent Indiana and Kentucky.

A Checkered Skipper taps into a sunflower. Southwest Ohio is a great place to look for southern immigrant butterflies such as this species. Not all skippers are as easy to identify as this one, but a number of top butterfly experts will be on hand to help sort things out. Authors Jaret Daniels (Butterflies of Ohio) and Jeff Belth (Butterflies of Indiana) will deliver talks and help with field trips.

In 2012, Ohio experienced the largest invasion of the southern Dainty Sulphur ever. Butterflies and other highly mobile insects respond rapidly to climate change, and evidence suggests that certain southern butterfly species are moving north in increasing numbers. Cheryl Harner will give a talk on just that subject: Butterflies as Bio-indicators.

The areas immediately adjacent to the workshop site contain lots of interesting and diverse habitat, and our field trips are sure to rack up some good lists. Maybe even including one of the more uncommon species such as this stunning little Harvester, our only carnivorous butterfly.

Butterflies make excellent photographic subjects, and Scott Hogsten will give a talk about photographic techniques just for butterflies.

A "puddle party" of Eastern Tiger Swallowtails creates a colorful scrum, along with a few Spicebush Swallowtails. Following lunch (provided) and the indoor programs, we'll head afield to seek butterflies. This will be a great opportunity to apply what we learned during the talks, and perhaps practice photographic techniques. A raft of topflight butterfliers will lead these excursions, including the aforementioned speakers, Sandy Belth, Jim Davidson, your narrator (who doesn't claim the expertise of the others), and a number of other experts.

Space is limited, so register soon. Complete details are RIGHT HERE.

A Porcupine warily eyes your blogger. I'm up in beautiful Presque Isle County, Michigan, and these prickly beasts are quite common here. I encountered the animal in the photo on my first night, as it foraged along a roadway. Naturally I stopped, and made a stealthy approach. The porkie let me come quite close before scuttling off to the shelter of a nearby aspen grove.

An American Bittern in its breeding finery, puffed and showing off for the ladies. Note his fanned shoulder epaulets and fringed throat ruff. The bird was doing its watery oonk-ah choonk calls repeatedly only 15-20 feet from our group this afternoon. It was quite a spectacle and I managed a pretty good video of the bird calling, which is something to see. I'll try and post that later.

Bitterns, like the Porcupine, are common here but one doesn't often see these secretive herons like we did today. We've had scores of other interesting birds, with much more to come.

A beaver-assisted wetland in Presque Isle County, Michigan. Such wetlands are full of biodiversity, and quite common in this region.

I've been in northern Michigan for nearly ten days, most of it spent leading forays from the Nettie Bay Lodge. We've had lots of luck: huge warbler migrations, great experiences with secretive species such as American Bittern and rails, interesting porcupine encounters, and much more. My bird trip list is 175 species or thereabouts, so far.

Time for blogging has been sparse, as have good Internet connections. Sorry if you've messaged me in some way and I haven't responded. I'll try and catch up on that stuff soon.

Leatherleaf, Chamaedaphne calyculata. This elfin shrublet is a member of the heath family, and often forms vast stands in northern bogs. Such sites are often termed "Leatherleaf Bogs". The tiny white flowers are bell-shaped and important to various insect pollinators.

Gorgeous and impossibly diminutive, a pine elfin, Callophrys niphon, rests on warm sun-drenched sands in a jack pine forest. Kirtland's Warblers provided the background music.

An incredibly vivid patch of bird's-eye primrose, Primula mistassinica, fairly glows from a wet meadow along the shores of Lake Huron. This is a very early wildflower of spring, and would normally be past by now. But like much of the Midwest, spring is about two weeks behind up here, and the tardy season allowed us to enjoy such early harbingers of spring such as this primrose.

A Magnolia Warbler stares at your narrator. These striped lemon and black beauties have been plentiful, as have many others of the warbler clan. I've seen about 30 species and probably thousands of individuals. The warbler migrations in shoreline Lake Huron hotspots have been especially robust this year.

I'm rounding out the trip with a few days at the extreme northern tip of the lower peninsula, in the shadow of the mighty Mackinac Bridge. This feat of human engineering spans the Straits of Mackinac, linking Michigan's upper and lower peninsulas. There are fantastic habitats in this area that support a wealth of flora and fauna, and we may add another day trip to this region next year.

We don't yet have the dates selected for next year's Nettie Bay trips, but it'll be sometime in late May, though. If you're potentially interested, feel free to contact me, or Nettie Bay Lodge to reserve space. CLICK HERE for info about the lodge.

Red-necked Grebe update

Neotropic Cormorant: One to watch for

Darters and avian rarities

Scissor-tailed Flycatcher!

Earth Day program!

A fine kettle of fish!

Magee Marsh's legendary boardwalk

A fine kettle of fish, Pt. II

Barred owlets

The "Fly-whal"

New River Birding and Nature Festival

Bear scat

A cricket new to Ohio

Rock Wren, in Ohio!

Magee Marsh Bird Trail

Moth that mimics a spider!

Colorful camouflage: Rosy Maple Moth

Butterfly workshop - July 12!

Bittern and Porcupine

Some scenes from northern Michigan