Ohio Birds and Biodiversity

Huron, on Lake Erie, is a bird-watcher's paradise

COLUMBUS DISPATCH
December 6, 2015

NATURE
Jim McCormac

HURON, Ohio — I recently traveled to the Lake Erie town of Huron, population 7,000. Huron, which was voted one of “America’s Coolest Small Towns” for 2015 by Budget Travel magazine, is the epicenter of Erie County bird-watching.

Our second-smallest county is probably best-known as the birthplace of Thomas Alva Edison and the home of Cedar Point. It also hosts a remarkable suite of Lake Erie bird-watching hot spots.

Bookending Huron is Old Woman Creek National Estuarine Research Reserve and Sheldon Marsh State Nature Preserve. Three miles downstream on the Huron River is another state nature preserve, DuPont Marsh.

My destination was yet another hot spot, the municipal pier at the confluence of the Huron River and Lake Erie in the middle of town. The half-mile-long pier’s terminus puts observers in a fantastic location to spot birds.

November and December brings the most birds to Huron. The concentrations of red-breasted mergansers can be staggering. One-day estimates of these fish-eating ducks can range into the tens of thousands. Massive flocks resemble storm clouds scudding over Lake Erie.

The mergansers are joined by thousands of gulls, most notably Bonaparte’s gulls. They’re there for the fish, too. Lake Erie’s abundant fishery accounts for most of late fall and early winter’s avian bounty. Emerald shiners and gizzard shad probably form the bulk of the food base.

My fellow observers and I noted hundreds of common loons near the river mouth. They were accompanied by hundreds of horned grebes, another diving fish eater.

Birders love to find rare birds, and Huron has an amazing track record. At least three first state records have been found, and lesser rarities are almost to be expected on a good day.

My trip was successful on the rarity front. Best was a Pacific loon found by Robert Hershberger, an Amish optics vendor and ace birder. The first recorded sighting of the bird in Ohio was in this same spot in 1985, and only a handful have been reported since.

We saw three jaegers, which are Arctic-nesting gull-like birds that pirate fish from other birds. Both white-winged and black scoters landed nearby, offering good looks. Sometimes dozens or even hundreds of these sea ducks can be seen here. At day’s end, I found an eared grebe in the river. Only a few turn up in Ohio each year.

In terms of sheer spectacle, the red-breasted mergansers stole the show. At one point, a feed swarm numbering over 10,000 birds stretched for perhaps a quarter-mile just offshore. Many other flocks, large and small, continually passed by in the distance.

Lake Erie is an incredibly rich biological hot spot, and the birds bear this out. I hope we can do a better job of caring for it.

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccormac.blogspot.com.

An obscure sandstone alcove - a cavelet, if you will - along a Hocking County, Ohio lane. I stop here every few years to check on its rare inhabitant. As fate would have it, that was last Saturday. To seek our quarry, we must go over and peer into the deepest recess of this large overhang - middle of the photo, just right of center.

Yes! There it is, hanging from the ceiling just as its done for many decades and probably far longer. The stalactitic growth is the very rare Appalachian Filmy Fern, Trichomanes boschianum. This patch has been known for far longer than I've been into plants, and who knows how long it has occupied this perpetually dim niche before it was discovered. The few and widely scattered populations of this curious fern are thought to be very old in most cases.

The fronds are quite beautiful upon close inspection, but such inspection takes a bit of work. Very little light penetrates back to the area occupied by the fern, and one could easily glance into its alcove and overlook it. The "filmy" moniker comes from the exceptionally thin fronds, which are only one cell thick.

This fern belongs to the successful fern family Hymenophyllaceae, which is comprised of over 600 species and has been around since at least the Upper Triassic Period some 200 million years ago. Filmy Ferns (or Bristle Ferns, as they are sometimes known) have a cosmopolitan distribution, occurring over much of the world but nearly always in constantly damp or misty sites. The fern featured here is no exception - this small sandstone recess is liberally wetted by constant seeps percolating from the rocks.

NOTE: I have come to dislike flash photography for plants, in many cases. The previous photos that I have made of this species were with flash, and I never much liked the look. But flash, or a VERY long shutter speed is required given the darkness of the site. So this time, I lugged my tripod along and tried something different. These images were made sans flash. The photo above was created with the Canon 5D Mark III and Tamron 70-200 f/2.8 lens, at 200mm. Settings were f/14, ISO 100, and 20 (twenty!) second exposure. Not a very conventional plant photography setup but it worked okay - much better than with flash in my opinion.

Courtesy of the Flora North America, here is a map of the distribution of the Appalachian Filmy Fern. It would be endemic to eastern North America were it not for one bizarre outlier population in the state of Chihuahua, Mexico. Its core distribution is compact, and the populations are few and far between. The fern has been found in 12 states, and it is listed as endangered in eight of them, threatened in two, and as "S3" (rare but not highly imperiled) in one. Only in the Commonwealth of Kentucky is Appalachian Filmy Fern not listed. It's known from 21 counties there, but I bet the casual botanist would still have to work to find a population.

There are two Ohio sites. The other is about three miles west and ever so slightly north of the population shown in this article. These are the most northerly Trichomanes boschianum populations in the world. One of them is diligently protected, the other is just sort of hidden in an area of little interest to passersby. Saxicolous (rock-dwelling) plants often suffer greatly due to trampling and other abuses inflicted by rock climbers and others who can't resist playing on the rocks. Hopefully the two Ohio populations will be spared the excesses of man.

Today was unseasonably balmy indeed, the thermometer striking 70 F here in central Ohio. I spent the afternoon with David and Laura Hughes in the beautiful and biodiversity-filled Clear Creek Valley searching for interesting things. Of which we found plenty, and Dave and I came away with many "keeper" photos.

This tiny spider was at the top of the heap of fascinating subjects. Laura, with her eagle eyes, somehow spotted the small web which the animal had stretched between beech tree saplings. The spider is just right of the pointy beech bud, with its elegant triangular web flaring out through the rest of the image, and beyond. The spider is quite tiny; it measures only a few millimeters. In addition to its manner of capturing prey, which we will soon see, it is also a representative of the family Uloboridae, which are noteworthy for being nonvenomous.

The spider is holding several silken lines, which connect to critical parts of its web. She will remain motionless and keeping tension on those lines until prey strikes the web.

A closeup of our hardworking spider, who is also a brilliant engineer. As she completed construction of the core of the big triangular web, she attached a tension line securely to this beech bud. She then used that to pull herself backwards and into the bud, in the process ratcheting the entire web tighter and tighter until it is finally taut as a firm trampoline. When a victim - small fly or some such beast - blunders into the web, she will instantly release her tension lines. You can see the excess slack in these now taut lines piled up over her abdomen like a little opaque bubble.

When the lines are released, the web collapses over the victim, sort of like having a parachute dropped over one's head. Hopelessly snared, the hapless prey does not have long to wait until the spider rushes out and even more thoroughly enshrouds it in a dense cloak of silk.

For a fabulous video of the whole process, courtesy of Sir David Attenborough, CLICK HERE.

I'm always playing with different photographic techniques. A few different (for me) attempts follow.

A 1st-cycle Ring-billed Gull prepares to drop onto the water. Bernie Master and I headed to Springfield Lake near Akron yesterday, to try and see a Kelp Gull that has been in the area for over a week. We were joined by well over a hundred other birders, but no luck - the rare gull stood all of us up. Such is life on the rare bird circuit.

We arrived before it was light, and as dawn brightened the landscape and it became ever more apparent that the Kelp Gull was not on the lake, I turned the lens to much more mundane Ring-billed Gulls. The light was horrid in nearly every way - wasn't much of it, and what there was came from a suboptimal direction. Normally I'd probably not even click the shutter in such a situation.

But what the heck. I decided to try for some "creative blurs". I've seen photos dubbed as creative blurs which to me have been bad photos masquerading under an artsy name. And I've seen creative blurs which looked cool and very out-of-the-box. I don't know where mine stands on the scale of good to bad, but I rather like it. This gull was shot with the Canon 7D Mark II and 500mm f/4 II + 1.4x extender, at f/5.6, ISO 1250, 1/320, with +2/3rds exposure compensation.

This cliff face is in Clear Creek Metro Park, and is a local legend known as Written Rock. Back in the day, it was covered with colorful graffiti from toe to crest. I used to marvel at how the taggers could access the inaccessible areas of the cliff to spray their drivel. When Franklin County Metro Parks took over Clear Creek, they blasted the rocks clean and have kept it that way. Written Rock is an exceptionally colorful piece of sandstone, but hard to photograph. The high contrast between dark and light areas of the cliff, and the brightly lit sky around the borders, means some parts of the image will be greatly over or under exposed.

Enter High Dynamic Range (HDR) photography. I'd wanted to fool with HDR for some time, and have finally gotten around to it. Here's how it works: Select the composition, and frame your image with the camera mounted on a tripod. A remote shutter release is best, as you don't want the camera to move at all between shots. Then take a series of three to five images ranging from overexposed enough to light the darkest areas, to underexposed enough to not blow out the brightest areas. Then use special software (I used HDRsoft) to blend them all together. The result should be a composite photo that is fairly evenly lit throughout - something that couldn't really be done with a single image, at least without all manner of post-processing work that would be beyond me.

As always, click the photo to expand

This is Rock House in the Hocking Hills, and this composition is fraught with peril for the photographer. I am crouched in the shady apse of a rock overhang, shooting out into much brighter light of varying degrees. Such a situation is where HDR excels, bringing up the dark areas and toning down the bright areas. I used five different images to create this shot.

Ash Cave, one of the largest and most beautiful of the Hocking Hills' incredible rock formations. This was my first effort at intentionally taking images in the field with HDR in mind. As with the previous two, five images of different exposures were melded together to create the image. This photo is closer to what the eye sees than what is recorded by a single photo. Your eyes moderate the very bright light from the sky in the photo's upper lefthand corner, and brighten the shady recesses on the right. A single photo would be overexposed on the left, or grossly underexposed on the right. HDR allows one to have their photographic cake, and eat it, too.

I look forward to more experimentation, HDR and otherwise.

The wet, slushy worst of Ohio's winter is upon us. Right now it's about 50 F with rain. Today featured the leaden skies that we see so much of in winter. Temperatures have been yo-yo'ing all over the place, from semi-balmy to downright frigid.

Fortunately, tomorrow is Winter Solstice, and after that the days grow longer, leading us by our Seasonal Affective Disordered brains ever closer to spring and the re-emergence of life. Especially insect life! I dip into the files to share a cool bug that I meant to write about long ago, but just never got around to. It may evoke memories of warmer, longer days.

A Road Warrior of a katydid if there ever was one. Back on June 11, I found myself at the always amazing Edge of Appalachia Preserve in Adams County, hanging out at the Eulett Center. It was past dark, and we were doing some nocturnal field work. Both Mark Zloba and I had noticed a discreet rasping husky broken trill, and were flummoxed by its identity. We thought it might be a conehead of some sort, but were unsure and wanted to run one down for a positive identification. Mark finally spotted one of the singers in thick grasses, and we were surprised to see that it was a shieldback. Further queries into the literature led us to believe it is the American Shieldback, Atlanticus americanus. You can hear the song RIGHT HERE.

It isn't hard to see how this group of katydids (subfamily Tettigoniinae) gets its name. The animal looks as if it has been fitted with armor plating. Despite their tanklike appearance, these are very interesting and ornate insects. There are several dozen species in the U.S., although only a handful occur in Ohio. Because their songs tend to be soft and easily overlooked, the group in general is probably not that well known.

We finally brought the animal out of the grasses for a photo shoot, and so that at all who were present could admire it. While these katydids will forage on vegetation, they often eschew the vegetarian lifestyle and scavenge dead insects, and will even overpower and consume live insects when chance permits.

I look forward to warmer days ahead, when singing insects such as this shieldback contribute their melodies to warm summer days and nights.

Dawn's first light paints a gorgeous palette of colors over a Pickaway Plains prairie near Circleville, Ohio. The local landowner put about 1,000 acres into native tallgrass prairie about a decade ago. The results have been stunning. On this quick visit, there were several Northern Harriers and Short-eared Owls, and a few dozen Eastern Meadowlarks, among many other species. Since this ground was restored to prairie, the spike in biodiversity, perhaps most noticeably birds, has been breathtaking.

The Pickaway Plains was once one of Ohio's great prairie provinces. The region was about seven miles long and three miles wide, centered on the Scioto River and stretching from approximately the city of Circleville south into Ross County. Over 99% of the former prairie has been converted to agriculture or otherwise developed. This grassland shows that if you restore it, they will come.

A small stream rushes and gurgles through a wooded ravine in Tar Hollow State Forest in southeastern Ohio. I found myself in this woodland recently; a place I seldom get to these days. At 16,000+ acres, Tar Hollow is one of Ohio's great biological hotspots, harboring a vast array of flora and fauna. On this day, steady rains vacillated between mists, sprinkles, and showers, which made finding critters tough. But all that moisture brings its own charms, such as turning this normally dry creek into a showy waterscape.

There is an old school fire tower in Tar Hollow, and visitors are free to climb it. I did, of course - such structures are irresistible lookouts. The boxlike cabin at the summit was locked, so I had to make due with the view from just below.

From the tower's (near) summit, a grand vista of the sprawling forest can be had. As is to be expected in late December, the surrounding deciduous woodlands are leafless and bare, but a couple of towering pitch pines (Pinus rigida) offer a jolt of brightness.

Conifers are always appealing eye candy, and especially so in winter when little else of color can be seen. Pitch pine are, to my eye, especially good looking gymnosperms. I don't understand why they aren't sold more in the nursery trade, unless there is some quirk to them that makes it hard to grow the trees. They are quite valuable to wildlife. Had I been at this spot in April, I'd about guarantee the sweet trills of pine warblers would be heard. The warblers methodically creep through the fascicles of long needles, seeking pine-specializing caterpillars and other entomological morsels.

After returning to earth, I walked around the pines and was struck by glistening raindrops clinging to the ends of the needles. The trees looked bejeweled, and upon inspection I could see the towering trunk of the pines reflected back within the tiny droplets. Eventually the drops will break their connection with the needles and fall to the ground. The tree will sponge them up through its root system, and the water will, in a tiny way, assist the pine with its growth. In time, the water will be carried through the tree and out into the needles where it will be released back into the atmosphere via transpiration.

And thus the cycle goes.

The Ohio birding network went aflame on the afternoon of Monday, December 28, when word went out about a Brambling that was discovered in Medina County. In this part of the world, a Brambling is a mega-rarity of the highest order. There had only been one prior Ohio record, WAY back in 1987. The current bird and the one of 28 years ago share some eerie similarities. More on that later.

Recently retired Medina County Park District naturalist Dan Bertsch found the bird, and must have nearly flipped his lid when he realized what he was looking at. Dan's discovery sparked a Great Medina County Brambling Rush, as listers from far and wide dropped everything and sped to the locale.

Photo courtesy Leslie Sours

That's the Brambling, on the left, consorting with some much more familiar fare (for us), three American Goldfinches. Perhaps the Brambling feels comfortable with them, as they're all in the same family (Fringillidae). I suspect that this is a scene similar to how Dan first saw the bird. It's been frequenting some feeders at a house or houses very near Allardale Park, which is one of the Medina County Park District's holdings. Leslie Sours, who made this image, was among the wave of first responders, and at that time the best ways of seeing the bird had yet to be determined. Views were rather distant, but certainly diagnostic.

If you're not a hardcore birder, you may wonder why the hubbub over a small rusty finch. Look at the map below...

Map: www.oiseaux.net

The Brambling has an enormous range, as depicted by the green portion of the map. The finch is a common breeder in much of northern Asia and Europe, and is highly migratory, wintering throughout the southern portion of the green area. Bramblings can form enormous winter roosts, and individuals are well known to wander far afield. The areas of the map in blue represent regions where wayward Bramblings have appeared, but records would be very few and quite far between in most of the shaded blue areas.

The scientific name of this species is Fringilla montifringilla, which literally translated means "Mountain Finch." The great Swedish naturalist and Father of Binomial Nomenclature Carl Linnaeus bestowed this name on the finch, and published it in his Systema Naturae (10th edition) in 1758. He described the finch under its current name, Fringilla montifringilla, a remarkable case of nomenclatural longevity.

Photo courtesy Alex Eberts

This great photo by Alex Eberts really brings out the charms of this stocky bullheaded little finch. It's easy to see why Dan would have done a double-take upon clapping eyes upon it. It's an adult male, and no regularly occurring Ohio species really looks anything like this. In breeding finery, the bird's head and back will be ebony black.

OK, to the weirdness. This google map shows the location of the current Brambling near Allardale Park at the left end of the red line, and the general location of the 1987 Brambling at the right end of the line. The two sightings are barely five miles apart!

The 1987 bird turned up on the heels of a major snowstorm on March 31, 1987, and stayed until April 7. It also spawned an avalanche of visiting birders, but the star was not nearly as cooperative as the current Brambling. I was one of the lucky ones that got to see it well. Many birders, often having traveled long distances, were unsuccessful.

Although I've not been to see the present bird, I've seen photos of the lay of the land, and it appears remarkably similar to the neighborhood that hosted the first bird. Then, as now, birders had to stand along the public right-of-way of the road, and try not to trespass onto private property or otherwise misbehave. I guess there have been some minor squabbles and bickering about behavior among the current Brambling-seeking throngs, just as there was with the first one. I remember that shortly after arriving at the 1987 Brambling site, I was watching and waiting with the others when I saw movement in a bush. A gentleman, who shall remain nameless, had crawled into the shrubbery - we were supposed to stay off the property - and was using the thicket as a blind. Moments later, a quite loud, large and brash woman, who will also remain nameless, spotted the trespassing birder. She let out a roar and charged into the brush, tugging the much smaller man out of there like a ragdoll, all the while berating him for his stupidity. It is a moment of birding infamy I may possibly never cast from my mind.

So, if you get the opportunity to visit this beautiful rarity, do so! You may not get another chance to see another Brambling in Ohio. But I'd advise staying out of the shrubs and on the road with everyone else. And if you see the feeder-owners or any of the neighbors, be sure and thank them for their tolerance. And offer kudos on a great find to Dan Bertsch should you cross his path.

Muskingum County, Ohio, this morning

Today's dawn exposed heavy, leaden skies that threatened to erupt into heavy snowfalls. The temperatures, which ranged from the high 20's to low 30's F, were conducive to flurries, but other than a few flakes the white stuff was held at bay.

Gray winter skies do not make photography easy. I was really after birds, but the low light means high ISO's and wide open apertures, and often less than desirable images. So, I mostly just watched the birds, and there were many along the path today.

Muskingum County, Ohio, this morning

I like the change of seasons that are so pronounced in the Midwest, and winter and its cold temperatures. But I find myself less enamored with all of the thick gray overcast skies that Old Man Winter carries along. A retreat to Arizona sometimes seems tempting at this time of year.

Finally, after an exceptionally warm winter with just a handful of semi-cold days, I awoke this morning to icicle weather. My car's thermometer indicated 16 F when I left for work this morning. That's more the way it should be in winter. Of course, frosty weather means that one does get cold outside, and after a while, it's nice to retreat to some sort of toasty bungalow. And the desire for warmth doesn't just apply to human mammalians...

Today's icy temperatures reminded me of an interesting mouse experience. Almost five years ago to the day, I was at the Wilds getting the grand tour of their new Conservation Science Training Center (NOTE: The Ohio Ornithological Society will be hosting a grassland bird workshop here on June 24-25. We'll see birds galore - you'll not want to miss it).

Jenise Bauman, Director of Conservation Science Training at the Wilds at the time, was my guide and after inspecting the main building, she pointed out the brand new cabins for visiting researchers' use. I asked to have a look inside one, and as soon as we popped the door open, I saw the little chap in the photo above.

It turns out that they employed space heaters in the temporarily unused cabins to keep the interiors warm enough to prevent pipes from freezing. At the time, outdoors temps were well below freezing. The cabin interiors were probably in the 50's, and warmer than that right in front of the heater, where the mouse has parked itself.

The mouse just took a glance back at us when we entered, and then promptly ignored its human visitors. The warm gush of air from the heater had thoroughly intoxicated the little beast. I was kicking myself for having left my good camera gear in the car (which was far away), and had to make due with my Android phone's camera and video. Ah well, it served the documentary purpose, but what I would have given to have had the really good gear to make really good photos. The rodent certainly was cooperative. This was the first time that I've seen a mouse warming itself in front of a space heater, and I may go some time before seeing such a scene again.

By the way, this is a White-footed Mouse, Peromyscus leucopus, a native species and a truly handsome little mammal. For a really cute photo of one, and a bit more information, CLICK HERE.

Here is a short video of the space heater-exploiting mouse.

Male downy woodpecker on high alert

COLUMBUS DISPATCH

January 10, 2016

NATURE
Jim McCormac

If you’re seeking a New Year’s resolution role model, consider the downy woodpecker.

Legendary ornithologist John James Audubon had this to say: “The downy woodpecker . . . is perhaps not surpassed by any of its tribe in hardiness, industry or vivacity.”

These traits are admirable in any organism. Having seen thousands of downy woodpeckers through the years, I will second Audubon’s effusive praise. The handsome little birds are almost always hard at work.

There are just two lapses in the workaholic woodpeckers’ toiling: when they sleep at night; and when a bird-eating raptor rudely interrupts their routine. I made the accompanying photo just after a small falcon known as a merlin entered the area. The woodpecker skittered to the side of the trunk opposite the raptor and froze stiff until the predator departed.

If one stumbled upon downy woodpeckers during their courting, one might think the birds are clownish. An amorous pair hops stiffly about, feathers rigidly ruffled, peeking at one another from behind limbs and making aggressive lunges. They might then engage in the “butterfly flight,” which must be seen to be believed. Usually tree-bound, the birds flutter through forest gaps, wings held high over their bodies and flapping with shallow delicate strokes. The gauzy flight display suggests aerial synchronized swimming.

Courtship antics lead to mating and, ultimately, the production of little woodpeckers. Downy woodpeckers excavate a small nest cavity, typically in a dead snag well off the ground. The female lays up to eight eggs, which she incubates for about 12 days. Eighteen days after hatching, the young depart the nest.

Old nestholes are used by many other cavity-dwellers, including chickadees, titmice and house wrens.

The downy woodpecker’s range stretches throughout the United States and Canada, from the wildest Alaskan forests to urban Columbus. It is the most common and successful woodpecker in North America, with a population estimated at 14 million birds.

Almost all who feed birds are familiar with the downy woodpecker. The industrious bird is quick to seize on an easy food source. It favors suet but will take seeds of all types.

Most of the downy’s livelihood, however, comes from drilling into woody trunks and limbs for beetle larvae and other succulent entomological fare.

A peculiar dietary quirk is a fondness for goldenrod gall fly larvae. The larvae are embedded in golf ball-like growths on goldenrod stems, and the woodpeckers expend considerable effort extracting the juicy grubs.

Observers can be confused by a similar species, the hairy woodpecker. The hairy is larger and stouter than the downy — think Arnold Schwarzenegger versus Richard Simmons. It also has a much more massive bill and lacks black dots on the white outer tail feathers. Like the downy, the male hairy woodpecker has a crimson splotch on the back of the head.

Tack some suet to a tree and welcome the hardest-working woodpecker in the grove into your yard.

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at http://www.jimmccormac.blogspot.com/

We had a decent amount of rain towards the end of last week, and I figured that water flow in our creeks and streams would be just about right last Saturday. I had long been wanting to shoot images of some waterfalls in west-central Ohio, but for optimal imagery the water volume should not be too little, nor too much. And is it turned out, three of the four falls were just about spot on. The fourth, Charleston Falls, did not have as much water as I would have liked for some reason, but nonetheless the rock formation looked stunning.

Although circumstances do not allow it, I would love to go re-shoot these falls tomorrow morning. Since the relative balminess of last weekend, when I made the following images, temperatures have nosedived. It is about 7 F as I write this. These waterfalls should be spectacular ice sculptures by now, and will have taken on an entirely new look.

All of these waterfalls are in Miami County, and details about each, including location, can be found by consulting The Google.

The West Milton Cascades. This hidden gem is tucked away smack in the middle of the little village of West Milton. One would be hard pressed to find a more scenic falls in Ohio.

Ludlow Falls. This one lacks the elaborate complexity of the West Milton Cascades, but (for Ohio) is a fairly large and powerful falls, and quite impressive. A visual handicap is the State Route 48 bridge, which was, quite stupidly I might add, built right over the top of the falls. Thus one must take pains to compose photographs so as to exclude the bridge.

Greenville Falls. The land around this one is owned by the Miami County Park District. Streamside cliffs just down from the falls harbor many rare plant species, and there is a planted prairie in the field above the falls. This falls and the previous two are all within 10-15 minutes of each other.

This is Charleston Falls, another Miami County Park District holding, and a site I had not visited before. It's pretty stunning; reminiscent of the Hocking Hills' Old Man's Cave, just smaller and made out of limestone instead of sandstone. This is the falls that I wish had had a bit more volume to the flow, but nonetheless the site was quite photogenic.

Lastly, one more of the West Milton Cascades from a slightly different perspective. Ohio has plenty of awesome scenery if one just looks around a bit.

A tiny triangle spider holds its web

TRIANGLE SPIDER WIELDS WEB AS SNEAKY SNARE

Columbus Dispatch

January 17, 2016

NATURE

Jim McCormac

I hate to break it to you, arachnophobes, but spiders are everywhere, even when snow flies and the air is super-chilled. The ones in your house (and there are many) have it easy. Not so with the spiders that remain feral and outdoors, where most people wish they would stay.

Huge numbers of spiders spend winter in leaf litter, in tree bark, and on twigs and branches. On wintry days when the temperatures rise above freezing, some become active and go on the hunt.

Dec. 12 was relatively balmy, with afternoon temperatures reaching almost 50 degrees. I met naturalists David and Laura Hughes at Clear Creek Metro Park on the north edge of the Hocking Hills for photography and exploration. Clear Creek is a biological hot spot and always produces interesting sightings.

We hadn’t gone far down a trail when Laura spotted a tiny web, over which an even tinier spider stood vigil. She had found the amazing triangle spider (Hyptiotes cavatus).

The triangle spider constructs a perfect vertical wedge of a web; sort of a silken pie slice of doom. This web is far easier to spot than the 3-millimeter spider that tends the trap.

As the spider completes the web’s construction, it ratchets the small end taut via an anchor line. It pulls this line ever tighter, until the spider is holding the web under great tension, like an archer who has drawn a bowstring to full tautness.

When prey — usually a tiny insect — hits the web, the spider releases the anchor line. The web goes slack and engulfs the victim in a sheet of silk. Sometimes the spider gives the web a few hard jerks to further ensure that the prey is entangled.

The triangle spider belongs to the Uloboridae family, which is mostly tropical — only 16 species occur north of Mexico. While most spiders produce sticky silk, these spiders create nonsticky silk via a specialized organ called the cribellum. Such silk is soft and puffy, and when employed as a quick-release snare is quite effective at snagging victims.

Another noteworthy oddity of Uloboridean spiders is that they are nonvenomous. All other North American spiders possess potent venom. When a victim is snared, the triangle spider rushes out and deftly enshrouds it with dense wrappings of silk, like a mummy embalmed by an overzealous undertaker.

When the wrapping is complete, the spider bites the thoroughly immobilized prey through the silk. The bite releases potent digestive enzymes, which serve to rapidly liquefy the victim’s innards. As noted by Dr. Richard Bradley, author of Common Spiders of North America, “The extensive wrappings of silk may assist in holding the gushy mass together during feeding.”

After consuming its meal, the little spider fastidiously reorganizes its web, tightens the drawstring and awaits another victim.

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccormac.blogspot.com.

I am pleased to be working with photographer extraordinaire David FitzSimmons and Roberts Camera in Carmel, Indiana, for two one-day photo workshops. More on them HERE. Our venue is the amazing Goose Pond near Linton, Indiana, a place that has already taken on legendary status in the birding world. Read about Goose Pond HERE.

Dave and I will each give an indoor lecture about various facets of photography, but the majority of the time will be spent afield. As Goose Pond should be teeming with birds in mid-March, that's what we'll mostly focus on. But there will certainly be time to dabble in other subjects such as showy landscapes, HDR techniques, and even macro photography.

A trio of Redheads coasts in for a landing. We'll really focus on bird photography tactics, including getting sharp in-flight shots. There should be lots of meaty subjects about, including many species of ducks, and thousands of Sandhill Cranes.

March is the month that spring really bursts to life. Red-winged Blackbirds will be gurgling away and the marshes should be ringing with the calls of Spring Peepers and Western Chorus Frogs. We'll do our best to see - and photograph - all of it. And learn lots of tips and tricks in the process. Not to mention see lots of birds, and learn more about our feathered subjects and their identification.

We welcome all levels of photographers, especially beginners to intermediates.

If you're interested in attending, just CLICK HERE for more information and registration details.

The meadows of Cedar Bog in a state of temporary dormancy, as seen last Sunday. I stopped by here on my way to Dayton and Aullwood Audubon Center, where I was slated to give a talk. While the vast majority of my many dozens of trips to Cedar Bog have been in warmer seasons, I like to occasionally stop by in the dead of winter. It gives one a broader sense of perspective to see these sites in all seasons. Come spring, Cedar Bog will burst to life in an explosion of flora and fauna. It is a must-see natural area.

At one point, this tiny Winter Wren popped out from under the boardwalk to regard me with bright curious eyes. He was no doubt hunting spiders and other such succulent fare in the sub-boardwalk's gloom. As if to help cast off fears that winter will never end, he flitted to a nearby root tangle and burst into song. The voice of a Winter Wren must be heard to be believed: a stunningly complex gushing aria that puts nearly all other North American birds to shame.

Maybe once a year, I get hit with the flu/cold/whatever it is, and it hammers me for a day or so. This was the week, and the flu-cold shut me down on Tuesday. Other than that, I made it to work every day. Unfortunately, some of the ill side-effects are a bit slower to depart, and I didn't feel up to any epic travels this weekend.

So this morning, I hit a few local hotspots with certain targets in mind. Two of which follow.

As always, CLICK THE PHOTO to enlarge

It appears that one of the local Great Horned Owl pairs has commenced the business of making owlets. This cavity in a massive white oak is a site used a number of times in past years by the owls. As she's been nestled into this same spot for over a week now, she must be on eggs. A typical clutch is two eggs, and the female owl does all of the incubation. The male earns his keep by bringing regular meals to her.

Late January is right on schedule for nesting Great Horned Owls in central Ohio. The female owl's extraordinary feathering allow her to maintain an incubation temperature of about 98 degrees even when the ambient air temperature plummets to minus 20 or colder. Such early breeding syncs the arrival of the baby owlets with the peak spring activity of striped skunks. Great Horned Owls are one of few predators that regularly make meals of skunks, and this striped delicacy is an entrée regularly served to many an owlet.

An utterly fearless Merlin glares at the cameraman. There was another nearby, occupying Union Cemetery in Columbus. They've been present all winter, and are remarkably tame even by urban Merlin standards. Nonetheless, I would not advise getting TOO close. One hundred or so feet away is plenty near for outstanding views, and the bird or birds will probably not even bother to register your existence at that range. Lest you wonder how I could get such a frame-filling image from afar, I was using a telephoto rig with the equivalent to about a 1120mm focal length.

The Merlin stretches his appendages during a bout of preening. I noticed that his right foot and leg were still bloody. These small falcons are bird specialists, and I suspect the blood issued from a hapless songbird of some sort - maybe a starling if luck is with us.

I'm trying to force myself to be somewhat mellow until this flu-thing fades completely, so after about an hour with the Merlins, I headed for home. I'll hope to get back for some more, though. They're great fun to watch, because sooner or later, the hunger pangs will strike and the falcon will go on the hunt. Few things are as remarkable as the spectacle of one of these feathered bullets turning on the juice, flying down some luckless bird, and pulverizing it.

The Sichuan takin, among the species in the Wilds, is a lumbering mammal native to the frigid highlands of the Himalayans in Tibet and China

Hardy Seuss-like Himalayan beasts among stars of the Wilds

COLUMBUS DISPATCH

January 31, 2016

NATURE

Jim McCormac

One of my favorite places is the Wilds in Muskingum County.

Sprawling across almost 10,000 acres, the massive conservation center is a bonanza for bird-watchers. In the summer, its meadows ring with the songs of bobolinks, Eastern meadowlarks, and many other species.

Wintertime brings raptors: Northern harriers, short-eared owls, rough-legged hawks, even rare golden eagles.

I was there Dec. 26 to participate in the Chandlersville Christmas Bird Count, which includes the Wilds. Although plenty of wild birds were to be found, it's the mammals that steal the show.

It's surreal to be scanning the meadows for birds and spot a trio of Bactrian camels on the horizon. A group of distant animals materializes into a herd of fringe-eared oryx. These muscular African antelopes sport long spikelike horns. A large pack of American bison dots a neighboring hillside, while Przewalski's horses - native to Mongolia - graze on another slope.

Of the Wilds' exotic stock, my favorite is the Sichuan takin (tock-in). The lumbering beasts resemble musk oxen and project a standoffish surliness that is somehow endearing. Big bulls can weigh more than 700 pounds. Although takins are occasionally referred to as "goat-antelopes" because of similarities to those animals, they remind me of a cross of a moose, bear, and wildebeest. They'd fit well in a Dr. Seuss story.

Takins are hardy animals, native to the frigid highlands of the Himalayans in Tibet and China. Their massive nostrils warm air before it enters the lungs, and oily skin secretions prevent water penetration, further protecting them from bitter cold. They typically inhabit dense bamboo forests, sharing habitat with a more famous mammal, the giant panda.

The takin's coat is a spectacular patchwork of dense brown and black fur capable of keeping the animal warm in the frostiest air. It has been claimed that the takin's beautiful pelage was the inspiration for the Golden Fleece sought by Jason and the Argonauts of Greek mythology.

The Wilds is North America's premier wildlife conservation center, housing nearly two dozen species of large mammals. Many of them are imperiled in their native ranges. The staff has been successful in breeding many species and advancing knowledge that aids in conservation of wild populations.

Visitation opens in May, and I highly recommend a trip. Visit thewilds.columbuszoo.org

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccormac.blogspot.com

A stunning male Eastern Bluebird hunts insects from a conspicuous perch. While these seemingly gentle creatures are thrushes - a group known for shrinking violets in this part of the world - I think of bluebirds as "hawk-thrushes".

I found myself roaming parts of south-central Ohio last Saturday, on an unseasonably balmy day. Temps hit near 50 F, and that got some insects stirring. One of the places that I visited was Stage's Pond State Nature Preserve just north of Circleville. Recent habitat management there left a savanna-like situation, with a recently mowed meadow interspersed with scattered small trees. Perfect bluebird habitat, and sure enough there was a small flock hunting the site.

I'm certainly not the only one smitten by bluebirds. This species - all three species, actually - have a virtual cult following. Much of their fan club is driven by "bluebirders" who collectively erect scads of free housing for these cavity-nesters. I'm not among their ranks - I've just always liked these beautiful songbirds for their good looks, pleasing warbles, and interesting behavior.

So, when I noticed the pack of bluebirds waging battle against the insects in the grass below, I semi-concealed myself, remained as still as possible, and watched/photographed the animals for an hour or so.

The female in the photo above is watching the ground with keen eyes. Moments after I made the photo, she flutter-dropped to the ground and seized something. Maybe one of the sluggish but still active grasshoppers, I'm not sure. In any event, this is classic Eastern Bluebird hunting modus operandi. Sit on an often-exposed perch over good foraging habitat, watch for prey, and fly down and seize the victim. Much like a Red-tailed Hawk or many other raptors do. The scale of the prey is just smaller.

As I was working my way back to the parking lot, I spotted this male bluebird as it darted into an unkempt patch of vines adorning a small tree. Yes! - he was going to harvest the fruit of one of my favorite plants, and also give me an opportunity to photo-document yet another species feeding on the berries of poison ivy, Toxicodendron radicans.

Poison ivy is one of the most disparaged of our plant species, and I suspect most Homo sapiens who revile it don't know that it is native (or care). But poison ivy has been a part of North America's landscape for far longer than we've been around, and many animals have developed a relationship with the plant. Including bluebirds.

The berries of this dermatitis-inducing plant are apparently mighty tasty to the feathered crowd, and probably loaded with nutritional value, too. While this is the first time I've managed to photograph a bluebird in the act of eating ivy berries, it's not the first time I've seen such behavior. I've also watched American Robins, and Hermit and Swainson's thrushes eat the stuff. Yellow-rumped Warblers are addicted to the poison ivy fruit. It's amusing to watch gargantuan Pileated Woodpeckers dangle from the flimsy, swaying vines as they attempt to pluck the small berries. And many other birds take advantage of the fruit of this oft-reviled plant.

Should you be interested, CLICK HERE for "A Brief Essay in Defense of Poison Ivy" that I wrote almost exactly two years ago.

The annual Ohio Natural History Conference takes place on February 27 at the Ohio History Connection (Historical Society) building in Columbus. This is a great venue for such a conference, and you won't want to miss it.

Lots of great talks will be heard, including one by the cicada-master himself, Gene Kritsky, who will speak about periodic cicadas. As you may know, a mass emergence will take place across much of eastern Ohio this year. I made the photo above in 2008, when a smaller cicada brood erupted in southern Ohio.

The inimitable Joe Letsche is speaking about his work with one of our most fascinating serpents, the gentle Rough Greensnake. He has uncovered all manner of interesting nuggets about these secretive creatures. I made the photo above last fall while on a foray with Joe at his Chillicothe-area stomping grounds.

There will be many other points of interest at this conference, including a great keynote by the one and only Guy Denny. To register, CLICK HERE.

Registration is now open for the fabled Ohio Wildlife Diversity Conference. This year's keynote is none other than Chip Taylor, the founder and director of Monarch Watch. Few people know more about the charismatic Monarch than Chip, and his talk is a must-see.

There'll also be programs on flying squirrels, woodpeckers, pollinators, bird migration and more. This is always a great event, so mark your calendars for April 12. Full details and registration info is RIGHT HERE.

Yesterday was bitterly cold in central Ohio. The day began about 7 F, and warmed into the low teens. Yet winter and subfreezing temperatures brings its own charms, and frozen Hayden Run Falls is one of them. I figured it would have been transformed into a cascade of ice, and sure enough that was the case.

A closer view of the Hayden Falls ice sculpture. I wrote about this place late last fall, and shared some images of the falls when the water is freely flowing. Just CLICK HERE for that.

Below the falls, towards its confluence with the Scioto River, Hayden Run was mostly unfrozen. This pair of Mallards rested and foraged in the stream. Although it still seems - and is! - wintry, spring is very much in the air. The daylight lengthens and stretches the days, and ducks are entering courtship mode. This drake was quite attentive to the hen, and tailgated her constantly as she swam about.

Nearby Kiwanis Park produced lots of birds, as it nearly always does. Being a sucker for charismatic chickadees, I can seldom resist imaging them if the opportunity arises. This is a Carolina Chickadee, which is common over the southern three-quarters of Ohio. North of their range lies that of the Black-capped Chickadee.

Scads of American Robins were evident on this day. While we've had many all winter, it seems that their ranks have been bolstered by new arrivals in the last week or so. This bird was feather-fluffed to truly rotund dimensions as it did its best to stave off the biting cold. He - it is a male - and his comrades were feasting on the fruit of the nasty invasive nonnative European highbush cranberry, Viburnum opulus var. opulus. The robins and other frugivorous birds are vectors for the spread of these weedy invasives, unfortunately.

I've said this before and I'll say it again - the American Robin is one of our showiest birds, bar none. Were it a major rarity, everyone would go ape at the sight of one. But it's easy to get jaded to the commonplace and ignore birds like robins. Thus, when I espied this extremely cooperative chap, I resolved to do my best photographic portraiture work and really try to bring out his handsomeness.

The image was made with the tripod-mounted Canon 5D Mark III and 500mm f/4 II. A 1.4x teleconverter allowed me to reach in even closer. Single point focus was shifted to the upper left of the grid and placed squarely on the bird's eye. Settings were f/8, 1/640, ISO 800, and +1/3rd exposure compensation.

A trip to the tail waters of Hoover Dam revealed many fowl cavorting in the icy waters. My favorite, perhaps, was this flashy drake American Wigeon. Or in hunter parlance, the "baldpate".

I've long been partial to these kleptoparasitic dabblers. It isn't uncommon to see thieving wigeon out in deep water associating with diving ducks such as scaup, Redheads, or Ring-necked Ducks. When one of the divers returns to the surface with a billfull of succulent plant matter, the wigeon attempt to snatch it away. That's one way to get at food that lies in the depths beyond one's reach.

One more wigeon photo, just because. It was 7 or 8 F when I took this image, with a gusty breeze cooking across the water. The tough wigeon seemed utterly unfazed. I wasn't, though, and resorted to hand warmers in the gloves, and noticed that my camera's controls were getting a bit sluggish after an hour or so in the elements.

Tomorrow is supposed to bring a high of 37 F. Spring is rapidly approaching, and with it the wild yo-yo weather of late winter and early spring in the Midwest.

Huron, on Lake Erie, is a bird-watcher's paradise

Appalachian Filmy Fern, a rarity indeed

Hyptiotes cavatus, an interesting spider indeed

Various photos, various techniques

American Shieldback

Pickaway Plains sunrise

A forest in a raindrop

Brambling in Ohio!

Wintry Ohio skies

Mice get cold, too

Downy woodpecker just keeps going and going

Rushing waterfalls

Triangle spider wields web as a sneaky snare

Photo Workshop - March 12th or 13th - Goose Pond!

Cedar Bog in winter

Two cool raptors

Hardy Seuss-like Himalayan beasts among stars of the Wilds

Bluebirds hunting and eating

Two great conferences

Frozen falls and frozen birds