Ohio Birds and Biodiversity

Photo: Bruce Hayes

Every now and again, the common becomes decidedly uncommon, and that's certainly the case with this Northern Cardinal, Cardinalis cardinalis. Bruce and Mary Hayes, who live in northwestern Franklin County, Ohio, glanced out their window and were stunned to see this cream and pink showstopper hitting the bird bath. Bruce managed a few photos before the oddball cardinal took flight, not to be seen again.

This Northern Cardinal is leucistic, and I've written about this pigment abnormality numerous times, such as HERE. In fact, CLICK HERE to see a very similar cardinal, which Paul Hurtado found about a year ago elsewhere in Franklin County. Paul's bird is nearly a match for this one, although he found it about four or five miles away. Could it be the same bird? I'm not sure.

Thanks to Mary and Bruce for sharing their find with us!

The fabled East 72nd Street park, along Cleveland's Lake Erie shoreline. This site is one of the best places to seek gulls in the Great Lakes, and North America for that matter. And why, you might ponder, would anyone in their right mind want to chase after "sea gulls"? Well, because gulls (decidedly NOT "sea gulls"!) are among the coolest, most visually stunning, aerobatic, and interesting of any of our bird families. Throw in the fun, and at times majorly vexing, identification challenges and the ever-present possibility of a major rarity, and what's not to like?

Reports of massive gull concentrations were coming hot and heavy from E. 72nd last week, and I could finally stand it no more. So, last Saturday I departed from Columbus at O'dark:thirty and arrived in Cleveland bright and early.

Intrepid birders scan the waters. This type of birding is not for the fair weather binocular-toter. Gulling is at its best when frigid temperatures have caused Lake Erie to ice over, and the hot waters (more on that in a bit) is the only open water in the immediate vicinity. It wasn't so bad this morning, actually - temps were in the low 20's, and the wind was fairly mild.

This video reveals a bit of the ambiance of gull-choked waters. The scene is one of constant cacophony and action, as the gulls loaf, fight, fly, spar, and bugle. It's a bit like packing thousands of thugs, all representing rival gangs, into a small room.

This power plant, located across I-90, is the reason that E. 72nd is so good for wintertime gulling. As part of its operations, the plant discharges warm water into Lake Erie, which causes a sizable open water area to form, even in the coldest weather. The warm water also attracts scads and scads of a fish species known as Gizzard Shad, Dorosoma cepedianum. The shad are not native to the lake, and fair poorly when water temperatures plummet. They're easy pickings for the opportunistic gulls, who make the most of the fishy bounty.

It's always worth scanning the tops of the power plant's stacks. The broad-shouldered lump on the left side of the stack is one of the local Peregrine Falcons. All is as tranquil as can be in gull land as long as the falcons remain dormant. When one makes a pass over the waters - they feed on gulls and ducks - hold on to your hat! Pandemonium is likely to ensue.

It doesn't take an ornithologist to determine when a falcon is afoot. Most of the gulls explode skyward, creating a fabulous visual spectacle. Last Saturday, there were perhaps 20-30,000 gulls in the immediate area; certainly enough to create a cloud when spooked. Die-hard Cleveland birders were tallying as many as 100,000 a few days prior!

Although it is exciting when a falcon or perhaps a Bald Eagle sends everyone aloft, it is often maddening for the birder. It takes a lot of time to scope through the masses, and some tricky individual gulls require detailed study. When you've found something especially noteworthy, say an Iceland Gull, and all of a sudden the birds explode into the air like 20,000 pieces of confetti caught up in a hurricane, it can be a chore to relocate the bird when they all settle back down.

The shot above reveals a taste of the interesting gulling that E. 72nd can offer. Most of the birds are Herring Gulls of various ages, along with a few Ring-billed Gulls. These two species are far and away the most common, with Herrings often dominating when weather conditions are at their most brutal and wintry. There are also a few Great Black-backed Gulls, and a Glaucous Gull.

When there are so many birds constantly milling about, photographers all too often end up with shots like this. I was after a first-cycle Herring Gull when this Ring-billed Gull had the bad manners to fly right in front of my camera. The intended subject can be seen as a brown lump with a foot sticking out, directly below the offending gull.

I clicked off 1,450 images this day, and a few of them were keepers. Gulls are lots of fun to photograph, and I'll share some of my images of specific species, including a few of the rare species, in later posts.

This turned out to be a fun shot. I was after the bird in the direct center of the shot, with the bright yellow bill and gleaming white head and neck. It turned out to be the most interesting gull there, and I'll share more about it later. When I reviewed this image later, I was pleased to see that I had inadvertently captured a young Herring Gull kamikaze'ing at the water in a very steep angle of attack. Gulls are extraordinary aeronauts and spectacular aerobatics are just part of their daily routines. I sometimes wonder, as Jonathan Livingstone Seagull's cohorts failed to do, if they realize just how good they really are. Regardless of what thoughts or consciousness streams through the minds of gulls, they sure are fun to watch.

More on the gulls of Lake Erie to follow.

Photo: Rick Nirschl

Ohioan Rick Nirschl, who migrates south to Texas for the winters, has done it again. This time it's a moth species that he's added to his ever growing stable of United States firsts, which include dragonflies and a bird. CLICK HERE for more on Nirschl finds.

While patrolling the National Butterfly Garden in Mission, Texas, Nirschl noticed and photographed the shiny animal in the photo. It turned out to be Napata leucotelus (no common name insofar as I am aware), which has not previously been documented north of the border. It belongs to the huge family Arctiidae, or the tiger moths, and is in subfamily Ctenuchinae. Moth enthusiasts may notice its similarity to a related species common in these parts, the Virginia Ctenucha, Ctenucha virginica.

Napata leucotelus ranges widely throughout Mexico, Central America, and into at least northern South America. South Texas, where Nirschl made this find, has proven to be highly productive for finding southern moths and butterflies previously unknown in the United States. The proliferation of planted gardens specifically designed to attract Lepidoptera, and the ever-increasing sophistication of skilled observers such as Nirschl, have led to numerous new U.S. finds in recent years. Congrats to Rick, and I suspect this won't be his last major find.

For a major mothing adventure closer to home - at least if you live in or near Ohio - check out Mothapalooza, RIGHT HERE.

An adult Ring-billed Gull with gizzard shad. Like a kid in a candy shop. This and the following photos were made last Saturday at Cleveland's East 72nd Street park on Lake Erie. There, the shad pile up in the wake of a power plant's warm water effluvia like scaley locusts in an aquatic wheat field. Unfortunately for the nonnative shad, most die and are consigned to be expelled as gull guano.

At most seasons and in most areas in Ohio, the Ring-billed Gull is, if not the default gull, certainly the most common. This adult in flight shows its clean white tail, and mostly black outer primaries. Of course, that black ring around the bill is a pretty good clue to its identity. The bird is in winter plumage, as indicated by the light brown flecking on the head and neck. As it enters breeding condition in spring, those areas will become bright white.

This is a "second cycle" Ring-billed Gull. When "cycle" is applied to a gull, it indicates a distinct plumage sequence within a series of molts. All gulls take multiple years to attain full adult plumage, which is one of the reasons that they're confusing to identify. Different ages of the same species can look like completely different species.

Ring-billed gulls require about three years to achieve fully adult plumage, as in the birds in the previous two photos. This second cycle animal differs from an adult in its almost entirely black wingtips, and the prominent black terminal tail band.

This is the largest gull that you'll see on Lake Erie, or anywhere in the world. It is a Great Black-backed Gull, and one of these bruisers weighs three times as much as a Ring-billed Gull. The "GBBG" in the photo is a first cycle bird - mostly brown but showing the semblance of a dark mantle on the back. The head and neck are suffused with a dirty brown wash. Note the gargantuan bill.

I suspect that this Great Black-backed Gull is a second cycle bird. Its mantle is darkening up, and shows less of he checkerboard pattern caused by the copious white flecking of a younger bird.

No problem telling an adult Great Black-backed Gull, with its sooty-black upperparts and giant size. These birds are so large that nonbirders sometimes mistake them for Bald Eagles. The individual in this photo would be at least four years old - it takes that many years to achieve fully adult plumage. If it makes it to this stage, it could live for a long time. The oldest known wild bird lived for nearly three decades, and some of the large gull species probably manage to survive for far longer than that.

Big, pale, and ghostly, a Glaucous Gull sticks out like a sore thumb. This is another big boy, second in size and scale only to the Great Black-backed Gull. The Glaucous dwarfs the adult Ring-billed Gull directly behind it. Most of the other birds in the shot are Herring Gulls of various ages. The Herring Gull complex is an interesting group, and we found a real oddball Herringwhatever in this crowd. More on that later.

This is a first cycle Glaucous Gull, with dingy white plumage throughout, no obvious gray mantle differentiation, and a dark eye. Glaucous are among the "white-winged gulls", which includes the Iceland Gull. These Arctic-breeding birds of the far north lack, or mostly lack, dark pigment in the wingtips as can be seen on this bird.

They don't call 'em white-winged gulls for nothing. Glaucous Gulls are always a treat to find. While they are regular along Lake Erie in winter, we don't get very many. They're big, fierce animals capable of domineering the lesser gulls. This is another "four-year" gull - like the Great Black-backed Gull, it takes a Glaucous that long to reach maturity. This was the only of its kind at East 72nd on this day, so I was unable to make images of other age classes. But they look large, white, and cool no matter their age.

A late fall storm clears out of Lake Erie at Fairport Harbor, Ohio. The five Great Lakes are among the most dynamic and diverse freshwater aquatic systems on the globe, and support a staggering amount of biodiversity. Collectively, lakes Erie, Huron, Michigan, Ontario, and Superior harbor 20% of the world's fresh water, and it takes a drop of water entering the system at Superior's upper end 320 years to travel through the system.

I get to travel to the Cleveland Museum of Natural History this Wednesday evening, and present a program on the Great Lakes to the Kirtland Bird Club. We'll take a virtual trip through the Great Lakes, and circle back to the most diverse lake of them all, Erie, which sits but a few miles to the north of where we'll be gathering.

Should you find yourself in Cleveland or vicinity this Wednesday, feel free to stop by. The meeting commences at 7:30, and the Kirtland Bird Club welcomes guests. If you're around earlier, be sure and explore the Cleveland Museum of Natural History, which is full of fascinating exhibits and is a true state and national treasure.

A flotilla of Herring Gulls (mostly) floats in Lake Erie near downtown Cleveland. Quite a diverse crew, eh? Someone new to gulling could be excused for thinking them all to be different species.

It takes a Herring Gull about four years to achieve its adult plumage, and every age class floats in the scene above. The dark brown birds are first and second-cycle gulls; they'll become cleaner, neater, and grayer and whiter with age.

A young (second-cycle [I think]) Herring Gull protects its bloody shad by loudly bugling at some interloper.

Leg color can be an important identification characteristic; generally speaking, Herring Gulls have pink legs. I believe this is a first-cycle bird, with neatly patterned wing coverts and mostly dark bill.

On the day that I was at East 72nd Street - other posts from that trip HERE, and HERE - the bird in the center left of the photo grabbed everyone's eye. For one, it is already in its breeding finery, with gleaming white head and neck, none of the dirty brown mottling that winter-plumaged Herring Gulls should still be retaining.

There was much debate about its identity, and we'll come back to that momentarily.

This fellow sticks out like a sore thumb - an adult Lesser Black-backed Gull, with its charcoal-gray mantle. The only likely source of confusion on Lake Erie, barring oddball hybrids, is Great Black-backed Gull. But adult Great Black-backeds are nearly black above, significantly larger, and do not develop the copious brown mottling on the head and neck.

Lesser Black-backed Gull is essentially part of the Herring Gull complex, and this closely allied species regularly hybridizes with Herring Gulls. Ohio did not record its first Lesser Black-backed until 1977, but the numbers of this European species have skyrocketed since. Along with them have come more records of apparent hybrids.

Back to the weirdo bird of two photos ago. Here we have the Lesser Black-backed Gull bookended by two Herring Gulls, and Mystery Gull is in the backdrop. This juxtaposition of these animals allows us to carefully compare mantle color. The Herrings are the palest gray, the Lesser Black-backed is jarringly dark in comparison, and Mystery Gull is somewhat in between.

At the time, in the field, we felt that it must be a hybrid, possibly between Lesser Black-backed and Herring. Later, I saw a note posted to the Ohio Birds Listserv by John Pogacnik, who was there later and saw the bird. John put forth the theory that it might be a Vega Gull, which is a largely Asian subspecies of the Herring Gull, and is treated as its own species elsewhere in the world.

I delved into the literature, and agreed that John might be onto something. The Kodak Gray Scale is used as a gauge for determining mantle color in gulls to a somewhat exacting degree, and according to Steve Howell in his book Gulls of the Americas, Vega Gull should read a 7-8 on the Kodak scale, versus a 4-5 for (American) Herring Gull. That seemed to match our bird.

However, there seemed to be problems with pigeonholing this animal as a Vega Gull. For one, it appears to have a mostly pale eye - Vega should be mostly dark - and the mantle is probably a bit on the dark side. What to do?

Find an expert. A major shortcoming for us who spend most of our time in the midwestern U.S. is that we just don't see or gain familiarity with Vega Gull. John pointed me to an excellent article detailing the Vega Gull, HERE, by Chris Gibbins. Dr. Gibbins spent time looking at scores of Vega Gulls in Japan, where they are common, and exhaustively documented and described what he saw.

I sent Chris a series of images of our mystery bird, and received a reply in short order. In a nutshell, he did not think it to be Vega, due to the darker mantle, pale eye, and wing pattern. He also noted that, if it were a Vega, it should still have a dirty brown head and neck as the bird still should be in winter plumage. Perhaps most importantly, his overall initial impression was not of a Vega Gull, and that means something coming from someone who has taken the time and effort to carefully study the species in the field.

So, to us at least, the gull remains a mystery. Here it is again, sandwiched between an adult Herring Gull, and an adult Great Black-backed Gull. I find the mystery bird to be very bull-necked in appearance and fairly stout overall - could one of its parents be a Great Black-backed Gull, if not a generation or two removed?

Sometimes, and this is very dissatisfying to some of us birders, a label just cannot confidently be placed on certain birds. But perhaps you know what this Mystery Gull is. If so, please do tell.

When stumped by oddball Herring Gulls and their ilk, I can take solace in this quote from Steve Howell's Gulls of the Americas: "The Herring Gull complex... constitutes one of the most problematic issues in contemporary avian taxonomy". Couple that statement with the large white-headed gulls' penchant for mating with other species, and we sometimes end up with weirdo birds that'll drive you up the wall.

I promise to steer clear of gulls for a while.

Photo: Jeannine Snow

This is certainly NOT your typical White-breasted Nuthatch, and the bird is quite an eye-catcher! Gina Buckey tipped me to the oddball bird, and shared a few images made by her friend Jeannine Snow. I appreciate the info, and the use of the photos.

Our long-billed nuthatch is visiting a Newark, Ohio area feeder, and in spite of its amazing Pinocchioesque bill, has managed to survive for a while. The bird is an adult male, and presumably a hatch-year bird, so it's been poking around with that whopper of a bill for probably eight months or so.

Photo: Jeannine Snow

The obvious question: what happened? Bill deformities - and it is an abnormal bill to be sure - are actually well documented and occur routinely enough that such deformities have been the subject of much study. Perhaps the leaders in bill deformity research are scholars at the U.S. Geological Survey's Alaska Science Center. Their pages on this subject ARE HERE. Be prepared to see some bizarre and rather distressing bill deformities.

The upshot of all the research to date is that no one is yet quite sure of the cause or causes that trigger bill aberrations. A whopping 30 species, and not just passerines such as this nuthatch, have been documented with bill deformities in Alaska alone. Obviously, other species elsewhere can develop bill abnormalities.

The Alaskan researchers have focused most intensely on studying weird-billed Black-capped Chickadees. In spite of failing to pinpoint the exact cause or causes, they have identified several likely factors: genetics, environmental contaminants, disease and/or parasites, and nutritional disorders.

Such highly elongated and often grossly distorted bills cannot be good for the affected bird. Alarmingly, birds with bad bills seem to be on the increase, and one hopes that someone runs down the cause sooner than later.

The aforementioned Alaska USGS page has a place to report birds with bill deformities, HERE. I'm not clear on whether they want info on Alaska birds only, though, but if so perhaps they can direct reporters elsewhere. If I learn of a better site to report to, I'll pass it along. Wil Hershberger let me know that the Cornell Lab of Ornithology's Project FeederWatch website has more info on this phenomenon, and offers a reporting venue: RIGHT HERE.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of heading NNE to the wildlands of the Mohican region with Bruce Miller and Peter King. We had a few objectives in mind: investigating a report of a Barn Owl that had just come to light, seeing the now famous Evening Grosbeak flock, and searching for a Northern Shrike that has occasionally been seen along the route that we would be taking.

We scored on the owl and grosbeaks - more, perhaps, to follow on those. But as is often the case when spending time afield, something cool and totally unexpected pops into view. This is such a story; a tale of a foxily serendipitous find.

The boys and I had made our rounds, relishing the spectacle of a ghostly Barn Owl in its dimly lit haunts, and marveling over a flock of noisy and gluttonous Evening Grosbeaks. We had just circled about the area where the aforementioned Northern Shrike had been seen, but no luck on the butcherbird, although a consolatory Rough-legged Hawk put on a show. Well, two out of three ain't bad.

We were on our way to the Mohican State Park lodge for lunch, and the driver - me - had just hung a left into the lodge's long entrance road, when STOP - BACK, BACK, BACK!!! roared Peter, blustering and choking out his words. I knew some new game was afoot, although I wasn't sure what. A quick jab of the transmission into reverse and a stab of the throttle, and I saw what had caught his eye. A gorgeous Red Fox, lazing right out in the open, on the edge of the lawn!

Dopey with the warmth of the sun's rays and the promise of a soon to arrive spring, the fox barely regarded his new-found admirers. In short order, big telephoto lenses were bristling from the car's windows, and scads of images were fired off, burst-mode style.

As sharp of ear as they are of eye, the distant clicks of cameras finally made the fox beam on on us, wondering no doubt as to who the fools were that were interrupting its sleepy reverie. We certainly did not want to bother this glorious animal, but a stunning photo-op with a wild Red Fox is as rare as hen's teeth, and we couldn't help ourselves.

Finally the animal stood, shook off the dust, and turned to give us a baleful glare. It still sports the full luxuriance of its thick winter pelage - just have a look at that magnificent tail!

The fox slowly sauntered into the adjacent woods, turning to take another look at the paparazzi. My hunch is that it has a den very nearby, and when the weather is sunny regularly loafs on the grassy bank. Even though the temperature was decidedly cool, we had not a half-hour before commented on how nice the sun's warm rays felt. Apparently this fox felt the same, prompting his bask.

Sure enough, when we departed the lodge an hour or so later and motored back by this spot, our foxy friend was back, sprawled out on the lawn as before. Should you find yourself entering the lodge at Mohican, and it is a bright day, check the lawn behind the entrance sign and perhaps you'll also see this handsome beast.

If you would like to read more about Red Foxes, HERE IS an article that I wrote about them a while back.

The annual Ohio Natural History Conference rapidly approaches! Mark your calendars for Saturday, February 23, and plan a visit to the Ohio Historical Society's intriguing building in Columbus. This event, as always, is sponsored and orchestrated by the Ohio Biological Survey, which is celebrating its 100th anniversary.

This year's engaging crop of speakers includes Andy Jones of the Cleveland Museum of Natural History, Kathy Smith of the OSU Extension Service, Herman Mays of the Cincinnati Museum Center, August Froehlich with The Nature Conservancy, Katrina Schultes with the U.S. forest Service, and keynote speaker Scott Loarie of Stanford University, creator of iNaturalist.

Technology is revolutionizing the way that we learn about and even interact with nature, and we'll learn a lot about the interplay between humans, the natural world, and technological gizmos. These conferences are always rewarding, and a good opportunity to meet many of your peers.

For the complete lowdown, and to register, GO HERE. And, walk-ins are always welcome so feel free to show up that morning and join the festivities.

Daughmer Savanna in Crawford County, one of Ohio's newest state nature preserves. The Ohio Division of Natural Areas and Preserves (DNAP) was instrumental in assuring the long-term protection of this stunning site, along with the Crawford County Park District.

DNAP, along with the Cleveland Museum of Natural History and other partners, hosts the Ohio Botanical Symposium, which will be held on Friday, April 5th. This is the 13th year for the symposium, which began with about 35 people in a classroom at Ohio State University. From humble beginnings it has mushroomed into a can't-miss 400+ person botanical extravaganza. It's held at the Villa Milano in Columbus, and does fill up, so get your tickets soon. Organizers have put together another excellent agenda, as can be seen HERE, along with registration information. Don't dawdle; the symposium is an outstanding way to start the spring.

A snippet of the 65,000 acre Shawnee State Forest in southern Ohio. Hard to believe this is the Buckeye State, eh? If you've read this blog with any regularity you've probably seen some of the scores of posts that I've made about Shawnee and its flora and fauna over the years. This is one of the best wilderness areas in the Midwest, and coupled with the (nearly) adjacent Edge of Appalachia Preserve, there is some 80,000 acres to roam.

The area teems with rare flora, and a staggering abundance of more common plants. A visit to Shawnee and vicinity is always rewarding, and once you've been once, you're almost certain to visit again. The best indoctrination into Shawnee and its multitude of nooks and crannies is with experts who know it well: enter Flora-Quest. This field trip focused botanical event will soon host its 7th consecutive conference the weekend of May 3-5. Early May is the peak of spring wildflowers, and by the end of F-Q your mind will be spinning at all of the magnificent plants that you'll have encountered. If you've got a camera, your cards will be stuffed with megabytes of digitized botanical beauties.

Space is rather limited at F-Q, and it does fill up, so this is another event to sign onto soon. All of the details are RIGHT HERE.

Although it is 20 degrees as I write this, the signs of spring are everywhere and the days quickly grow longer. By the time the two events plugged above roll around, flowering plants will be in evidence everywhere. Following is a pictorial taste of what's to come...

Cross-vine, Bignonia capreolata, Adams County, Ohio, April 7th, 2012. The other, better looking Trumpet-creeper!

Striped Maple, Acer pensylvanicum, April 15, 2012, Shenandoah National Park, Virginia. An endangered species in Ohio.

Birdfoot Violet, Viola pedata, April 25, 2012, Shawnee State Forest, Ohio. Flora-questers will get to see this beauty, which is arguably the showiest violet in North America.

Painted Trillium, Trillium undulatum, May 1, 2012, Monongehala National Forest, West Virginia. Another Ohio endangered species.

Pink Lady's-slipper, Cypripedium acaule, May 1, 2012, Babcock State Park, West Virginia. This stunning orchid is locally common in Shawnee State Forest and if you're at Flora-Quest you'll see 'em.

Dwarf Iris, Iris verna, May 3, 2008, Shawnee State Forest, Ohio. A roadside bank just a stone's throw from the state park lodge is blanketed with this Ohio threatened species, which is our only upland species of Iris.

Carolina Catchfly, Silene caroliniana, May 5, 2007, Shawnee State Forest, Ohio. These botanical stunners grow on nearly barren shaley hillsides and their brilliant flowers are jarring against the stark backdrop.

Spider Milkweed, Asclepias viridis, May 25, 2009, Edge of Appalachia Preserve, Adams County, Ohio. This large-flowered milkweed grows in prairie barrens and is sometimes known by the whimsical name "Green Antelopehorn".

Green Cottongrass, Eriophorum viridicarinatum, June 8, 2005, Cedar Bog, Urbana, Ohio. This rarity is confined to fens in Ohio, and is not a grass, but a sedge.

Crested Coralroot, Hexalectris spicata, July 14, 2012, prairie in Adams County, Ohio. One of forty-six native orchid species in Ohio (there is one well established nonnative species).

Obedient Plant, Physostegia virginiana, August 19, 2011, Willow Point Wildlife Area, Ohio. The curious common name stems from the flowers, which can be twisted around the stem as if on an axle, and will remain where placed.

Cardinal Flower, Lobelia cardinalis, August 31, 2011, Crane Hollow State Nature Preserve, Ohio. Easily in the top tier of our most striking wildflowers, the specimen in this photo was particularly engaging - it stood about seven feet tall!

Climbing Fern, Lygodium palmatum, September 15, 2007, Shawnee State Forest, Ohio. This strange fern is rare and local in southeastern Ohio. The broader leaves are sterile; the tiny lacy leaves are the fertile spore-bearing leaves.

Fringed Gentian, Gentianopsis virgata, October 6, 2012, Betsch Fen, Ohio. A fitting grand finale to Ohio's botanical season, but there is much to see between now and the gentian's closure to the season.

Pastoral Knox County, Ohio. This is Barn Owl country, and some of the barns such as the one in this photo are haunted - haunted by monkey-faced owls. Whether or not this particular barn has an owl in residence I do not know, but it isn't far from a barn that does.

Barns Owls are certainly not common in Ohio, and are officially listed as threatened. I suspect there are many more than we know about, though. They are strictly nocturnal, and only likely to be found when roosting during the daytime, and the roost is likely to be in someone's private farm outbuilding, and such places are not frequented by birders.

Thus, I was delighted to get a recent email, telling me of an owl in residence in the aforementioned Knox County. The homeowners are nice as can be, and were willing to allow me to visit and have look at their owl.

So, on a recent Saturday, I piled Peter King and Bruce Miller in the car and headed up to meet the Barn Owl's landlords, and hopefully the owl as well. Upon entering the barn, it didn't take but a New York second to figure out where the bird's favorite haunt was - the floor underneath was dappled with enormous owl pellets and painted with a fair bit of whitewash.

We glanced up into the rafters, and there she was, tucked in and paying us absolutely no mind. And it is a "she": note the lovely tawny wash to the breast and the copious sprinkling of black dots. Males tend to be much whiter and considerably less speckled. This bird does appear to have an injury of some sort on its breast, but apparently it is healthy enough and eating like a horse. It's been using the barn for over a month, and the piles of pellets attest to its vole-catching prowess.

This is a working farm and a working barn, and apparently the owl has become thoroughly accustomed to activity. Twenty feet or so below the owl lurked Peter, Bruce, myself, and the lady of the house, although we spoke in muted whispers. At our feet gamboled several very active kittens, the progeny of a couple of adult barn cats. And there was Tig, a large and rather ferocious appearing "guard dog", who was nosing the kittens about and occasionally letting loose a bark. None of this hubbub caused the owl to as much as flinch, let alone open its eyes.

From my experience, there are basically two types of Barn Owl behavior regarding barn-roosting birds. Some, like this animal, are quite tame and not put off by people. They'll just remain perched high in the rafters or on the hay rail, and quiet observers - or even not so quiet ones - will not cause them apparent concern.

But there are plenty of spooky Barn Owls. These birds do not like intruders, and as soon as someone enters their dwelling they'll promptly catapult out the nearest exit hole and into the wide open outdoors. These are the birds to leave alone. A Barn Owl ensconced in the shadowy rafters of a barn is a safe owl. A Barn Owl flushed from its fortress during the day becomes far more vulnerable to those who would eat or otherwise relentlessly dog the bird. This is an almost strictly nocturnal owl, and forcing one to be exposed to hawks, crows, jays, the watchful eyes of Great Horned Owls and all manner of tormentors, some deadly, some just annoying, is not the thing to do.

Upon leaving the barn, I grabbed a couple of owl pellets. We retreated to another barn (owless) barn, and dissected one of them. Owl pellets are compact masses of indigestibles: fur, and bones. Several hours after swallowing a tasty mouse or vole, the owl commences to bob and gurgle like a frat boy that chugged too much beer, and out comes one of these surprisingly large pellets. The vole's skull is in the foreground, and various bones from the hapless victim can be seen projecting from its fur. An intact pellet is at the right.

The homeowner was very interested in these pellets and their composition, as any right-minded intellectually curious person ought to be. Just today, she texted me a photo of a pellet that she had much more painstakingly dismantled. It contained five (5!) vole and mice skulls! Apparently the owl is flourishing in its Knox County digs, and I hope there are many others in the area.

The famous New River bridge at Fayetteville, West Virginia, as seen from Long Point. The deck of that bridge is about 877 feet above the roiling waters of the ancient New River, which is actually one of the world's oldest streams. The scenery in this part of the world is nearly unrivaled, anywhere, and the biodiversity is nothing short of astonishing.

Enter the New River Birding & Nature Festival - the best way for birders and others interested in nature to immerse themselves in the flora and fauna of southern West Virginia. This year, the festival ranges from April 29 - May 4 and YOU should be there!

This pleased group is in the midst of watching a male Golden-winged Warbler make its rounds, singing all the while. Topnotch and often hard to find birds such as the Golden-winged are a festival staple. Helping everyone to find the specialties is an all-star cast of guides, many of whom pull double duty as evening speakers. GO HERE for a roster of the guides.

The word "Nature" is in the event's name for a reason. The mountains of West Virginia teem with all sorts of nonbird animals, everything from Box Turtles to Worm Snakes to Red Efts to Black Bears. We pause to look at them all.

A real field of dreams, the fabled Bobolink field, high on a grassy knoll well up on a remote mountain. Although most of us have probably seen Robert O' Lincoln, it's incomparable to clap eyes on the black, golden, and white males skylarking all over this magical meadow, gurgling their bouyant R-2 D-2 melodies to the assuming females.

Certainly not my best effort in the realm of bird photography, but this shot tells a story. It is a bird that not many people get to lay eyes on - a female Cerulean Warbler. You'll generally see far more of the sky-blue males. The mountain where I made this image is full of Ceruleans - probably the greatest density that I've seen anywhere. What was particularly cool about this particular bird is that she was actively harvesting the exfoliating bark from those grapevines for her nest. That's another cool dimension of the New River Birding & Nature Festival - we know tons of hotspots where rare experiences such as this are possible, if not probable. Seeing a glimpse of a Cerulean Warbler high in a treetop is Birding; observing a female gathering nest material at close range is Bird Watching!

I am tasked with leading groups to Cranberry Glades, way up in the Monongahela National Forest, and what an onerous job that is - NOT! Even though the boardwalk that winds through the gnarled Red Spruce is only 1/2 mile in length, it can take a few hours to traverse its path. The birds are insane - it's like being teleported to Canada. Winter Wrens, Canada Warblers, Red-breasted Nuthatches, Northern Waterthrushes and many other boreal species breed here. There is a local nesting population of Red Crossbill, and they often frequent the nearby visitor's center. The plant life is incredible and includes numerous interesting and rare species.

Almost stunning beyond words, a bouquet of brilliant orange Flame Azalea flowers enlivens an early spring West Virginia woodland. The botanical diversity is extreme, and I've found that even people who have not paid plants much mind find themselves getting caught up in the charms of vegetable matter such as this azalea. Bring a camera - photo ops abound.

Another happy group, this time because a cooperative male Mourning Warbler sang its heart out for them as it worked the margins of its turf.

We see a lot of repeat customers at the New River Birding & Nature Festival, and small wonder. I think this'll be my seventh consecutive year leading trips, and it is without doubt a highlight of the season for me. I think you'll like this part of West Virginia, too. For the complete festival lowdown, including registration inormation, CLICK HERE.

A springy quagmire a mere seven minutes from my house, and a place to which I make an annual pilgrimage each year to confirm spring's arrival. I know that I write about this every year, but I cannot help myself. This has been a long wintry winter, and I and many other northern tundra-boys and girls eagerly seek out definitive signs of spring.

Speaking of the title of this post, and skunks, the mammalian form is also in full spring fever. You'll be smelling their pungent musk frequently, and seeing the aftermath of skunks who were unsuccessful in crossing the road. But this story is about Skunk-cabbage.

The aforementioned boggy spring is Kiwanis Park, and I was there this morning to document the full-fledged emergence of the Skunk-cabbage, Symplocarpus foetidus. I was at this spot for other purposes back on January 16, and was shocked to see that at least one of the Skunk-cabbage plants was already in full bloom. That one jumped the gun by a longshot; today, hundreds of plants were up and the colony was at or near its peak of bloom.

If you are a plant bold enough to thrust from the mire in February, it helps to be thermogenic. Skunk-cabbage produce their own heat as a by-product of growth, and the immediate environs of an actively growing skunk is plenty warm enough to melt away the snow and ice.

A luxuriant passel of Skunk-cabbage. Each of those curious fleshy conical spathes harbors the flowers. The purple and green hoods provide a toasty warm tent that shields the pollen-producing parts from the often much chillier conditions outside. It might be several dozen degrees warmer inside the spathe! While Skunk-cabbage's choice of habitat often limits who might see them - casual hikers tend to avoid boot-sucking quagmires in late winter - I'm sure the unititated occasionally stumble into them. I wonder what someone who has no idea of their existence thinks when they clap eyes on a flowering skunker. Probably think it's a weird fungus of some sort, rather than a close relative of one of our most beloved spring wildflowers, the Jack-in-the-pulpit, Arisaema triphyllum.

Proof of flowering is in the pollen, as botanist Daniel Boone would say. To see the true flowers of Skunk-cabbage, one must peek through the flap in the spathe. If you do, this is what you will see. The oblong-shaped club is the spadix, which is littered with the tiny greenish flowers. Look closely and you'll see pollen grains on the flowers and the surface of the spadix.

The blooming and leafout of Skunk-cabbage is largely asynchronous: the leaves do not emerge and reach full luxuriance until after the flowers are done and withered. Only a few leaves were in the early stages of unfurling today. Come back later in spring and it'll resemble a well fertilized cabbage garden in this spot.

The botanical skunks long get the jump on more traditional wildflowers. This raggedly looking rosette of Swamp Buttercup, Ranunculus hispidus, leaves was growing with the Skunk-cabbage, but it'll be two months or so before their glossy lemon-yellow flowers show themselves. The birds know that spring is here, though. Well making my photos, I was serenaded by Northern Cardinals, Carolina Wrens, Northern Flickers, Song Sparrows, Mourning Doves, and others.

While it may only be late February, now that the Skunk-cabbage are at the pinnacle of bloom, there is no denying the impending Spring.

While traipsing through Kiwanis Park last Sunday, where I made the Skunk-cabbage images of the previous post, I encountered the remnants of this plant. It is Virginia Stickseed, Hackelia virginiana, and it is a much cursed plant indeed. When young or in bloom amongst the crush of other summertime greenery, Virginia Stickseed does not stand out and is likely to be overlooked. With age and the ripening of fruit, even non-botanist explorers notice - and curse - this rather weedy borage family member.

The fruit of the stickseed, shown above, are a marvelous adaptation for mammalian dispersal. The exterior of the fruit is heavily armored with stiff hook-tipped bristles - ideal for adhering to passersby. Many a hiker has had the misfortune of inadvertently bumbling through a patch of this plant, only to look down and see that his/her legs are covered with burs.

While humans now play a role in moving stickseed and other plants around, our adhesive-fruited flora co-evolved with animals such as this White-tailed Deer. The aforementioned Virginia Stickseed can be a robust plant, and typical luxuriant specimens place their fruit at an altitude perfect for catching furry deer bodies. It probably does not behoove wild mammals to become coated in sticky burs, and their fur has become quite sleek and good at repelling would-be hitchhikers, but some of the plant fruit will stick at least long enough to ride to a new locale.

Just as surely as tanagers and warblers migrate, so do plants. Plants have all sorts of migratory ploys in their bag of tricks, including wind and water dispersal, transport by all manner of insects, forceful physical ejection of seeds, and more. People probably tend to notice the mammalian dispersal plant tactics the most, because these plants don't discriminate against the various mammal species so we get involved in the process too.

A real Jeckyll and Hyde plant, the Showy Tick-trefoil, Desmodium paniculatum. This pea family member is decidedly an ooh and ahh plant when in flower. When it goes to seed, the same fawning admirers often end up cursing the tick-trefoil. Desmodiums produce flat, often triangular fruit known as loments, and loments adhere wonderfully to pants legs and other clothing. I'm sure you've picked some up in your travels.

Columbus Dispatch photographer Eric Albrecht is one of the best in the business, and goes to any length to get his shots as on this trip into Shawnee State Forest. Beating the brush like this often means legs covered with Desmodium loments. If Eric were to fail to rid himself of all the sticky loments, he is liable to transport them far distances and thus aid in the plant's dispersal.

Bur-bearing plants are found in many families, and exhibit great variation in stature. There are even elfin mammalian dispersal plants that hold their fruit at the low level of a chipmunk. While the odd bur undoubtedly gets taken for a ride by hyperactive chipmunks, their primary method of plant transportation is caching, and forgetting, seeds.

White-footed mice and other rodents likely transport their share of seeds, too, without intending to.

Mice and other rodents often dwell in rocky cliffs and outcrops, and such sites are home to this lovely little plant, the Dwarf Enchanter's Nightshade, Circaea alpina. Its tiny ellipsoid fruit are beset with sticky hairs, and are in perfect position to latch onto small rodents making the rounds of the rocks at night. Thus, newer and higher ledges can be occupied by the plant, thanks to the mice.

Long-fruited Snakeroot, Sanicula trifoliata, is one of four very common Sanicula species in Ohio. This one shares limelight with several other dozen species of plants that were discovered and described to science in Ohio. The plant probably cares less about that distinction than it does about sticking its burs to some passing mammal.

An Eastern Cottontail, a likely common transporter of Sanicula snakeroots. These plants often grow luxuriantly in prime rabbit habitat, and are of the perfect height to snare passing bunnies.

Next summer and fall, when you pause to pluck burs from your clothes and cast them to the ground, just take note that you've been outfoxed by the plant world.

Yesterday, along with a few other folks, I found myself skirting along a large wetland complex in the western marshes of Lake Erie. It was a gloomy, overcast day, with wet snow/rain spitting constantly in hypothermia-inducing temperatures. Nonetheless, spring was in the air, if one were to believe the birds. Flocks of blackbirds were here and there, and the boldest of the early returning male Red-winged Blackbirds were teed up and proclaiming their territories with guttural conk-ah-REE-onks! Waterfowl were on the move, and scores of Tundra Swans were moving about, restless to push on north to their Arctic breeding grounds.

In spite of all the conspicuous avian action, our attention was riveted to the innocuous looking willow thicket above, at least for a memorable while.

This shrubby copse is just like acres and acres of the same stuff in Lake Erie wetlands, but this patch held a special treat. In fact, I suspect that many such thickets hold the feathered treats that we'll behold in just a second - it's just that few people look for things in such places.

Look closely - we're being watched! A Long-eared Owl, Asio otus, peers out at your narrator and his companions. This owl and its compadres were devilishly hard to spot in the dense willows. As we scanned the patch and ogled an owl, more would come to light. At one point, I was drawing a bead on this bird with my camera, and noticed another owl, barely visible, in the backdrop. We tallied four but I bet more were present. Our reluctance to disturb them precluded more aggressive surveying.

By sidling along the roadway, some fifty feet away, we were able to discover open portals into the thicket and clearer views of some of the owls. This is where my 500 mm lens really comes in handy. It isn't necessary to impinge on the birds' comfort zone in order to make decent photos. I also had my scope along, and was able to set that up a fair distance away and still provide everyone with killer looks, same as in this photo. The owls noticed us, obviously - what do they NOT notice? - but never showed signs of being on high alert.

Take a close look at this owl. A very cool and almost surreal element of owl physiology is on display.

The owl in the previous photo, and the chap above were both facing away from the road. But wait - they're still looking directly at the camera! Owls have fourteen neck vertebra, double our seven, and that allows them to twist their neck nearly 180 degrees and look directly behind them.

Long-eared Owls are not a rare bird, and are common throughout much of the northern boreal forest. They stage poorly understood southward movements in winter, and are regular visitors to Ohio and other states south of their primary breeding range. There are undoubtedly FAR more Long-eared Owls around than is supected, and when one sees these masters of camouflage imbedded in a dense willow thicket such as this, it becomes apparent just how easily they can be missed.

I think many Ohio birders have a skewed perception of Long-eareds' winter habitat, because so many people are used to seeing them in the pine groves at Killdeer Plains Wildlife Area and other select conifer groves. But it should be remembered that, with the exception of the Red Cedar, Juniperus virginiana, and Virginia Pine, Pinus virginiana, conifers are rather local and limited in distribution in Ohio. And even the two aforementioned species are not common statewide, and the other five native species suitable for owl roosting are very limited in distribution. In several areas where Long-eared Owls regularly turn up roosting in conifers, such as Killdeer Plains, there are NO native conifers or at best a smattering of Red Cedar. The birds are roosting in artificial plantings.

On several occasions, I've seen Long-eared Owls roosting amongst the dense gnarled branches of Pin Oak trees, Quercus palustris, and I suspect that's where the Killdeer Plains pine grove birds retreat when the human presence becomes too much. Pin Oaks are often very common in and around good Long-eared sites. They also favor dense grapevine tangles, which are found nearly everywhere, and good luck spotting owls in such haunts.

A key to devining possible locations for Long-eared Owls involves suitable hunting habitat. They hunt over open and semi-open ground, and if an area has Short-eared Owls and Northern Harriers, there is a good chance that Long-eareds are also in the immediate vicinity. The latter are strictly nocturnal, though, and thus much harder to discover. It involves lots of peeking and peering into dense vegetation, and/or much luck.

I want to thank Jeff Finn for pointing these birds out to us, and taking us to the spot. It's an interesting story as to how they were discovered, which was quite serendipitous. The location cannot be divulged, though, as the owls are on lands that are not publicly accessible, and I am always loathe to reveal Long-eared Owl roost sites as human pressure can become heavy once they're known. But now that we've seen these deciduous willow-roosting birds, we have a good search image for a "new" habitat in which to seek owls.

The U.S. Postal Service released new stamped envelopes today that feature artwork depicting the Bank Swallow, Riparia riparia, known elsewhere in the world as the Sand Martin. Matthew Frey of Annapolis, Maryland is the artist. Bank Swallows have a huge distribution and occur on six of the seven continents. I heartily applaud the U.S.P.S.'s interesting choice of our smallest swallow to grace their newest rendition of the 58-cent Forever Envelopes. Read more about the stamp HERE.

Ohioan Adam Grimm, artist and conservationist, has won the Ohio Wetland Habitat Stamp competition with his rendering of a Northern Pintail. Each year, about two dozen artists from far and wide vie for the honor of having their artwork featured on this stamp, which was introduced in 1982. Competition for top honors is fierce, and the winning entry is selected by a team of bird-savvy judges.

Adam, who hails from Elyria, Ohio but now makes his home in North Dakota, burst to prominence in 1999, when his beautiful painting of a Mottled Duck won the Federal Duck Stamp competition. That honor put him squarely in the rarified atmosphere of a relative handful of wildlife artists who have had their work grace the Migratory Bird Hunting and Conservation Stamp, which had its inception in 1934 and has since raised over $750 million for habitat acquisition. Chances are great that if you are a birder, you've ogled interesting birds on property purchased with Duck Stamp dollars.

Not one to forget the conservation roots of the Duck Stamp, Adam plowed some of his winnings into his home state's lone federal refuge, the Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge along Lake Erie. If you've birded that area much, you've probably seen this sign marking a beautiful tall grass prairie. It was Adam's generosity that made its restoration possible, and now we can enjoy Bobolinks, Sedge Wrens, and Upland Sandpipers in and around this prairie. Coincidentally, over 90% of the funds to purchase Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge came from Duck Stamp dollars. You can buy a Duck Stamp HERE.

Back in 2007 or thereabouts, the fledgling Ohio Ornithological Society asked Adam if he would be guest of honor at a special OOS fundraiser, to help raise money to assist in the purchase of land. Grimm graciously and enthusiastically agreed, and thanks to him we were able to pull in a sizeable chunk of change. That money ultimately went to provide a necessary match for Clean Ohio funds, and along with The Nature Conservancy we were able to help purchase a key parcel of land in TNC's Edge of Appalachia preserve in Adams County.

Finally, here it is - Adam's winning Northern Pintail. It'll adorn the 2014 Ohio Wetlands Habitat Stamp.

This isn't Adam's first time at this dance. He won the Ohio stamp competition in 2005 with a beautiful portrayal of a Wood Duck, and he has also won state stamp competitions in Alaska (twice), New York, and Washington.

Congratulations to Adam Grimm, who is not only a great artist, but also a true conservationist.

If you want to learn more about interesting animals such as the Eastern Box Turtle, consider attending the upcoming Wildlife Diversity Conference. This conference is major in every way, attracting around 900 attendees, and it always sports an interesting roster of speakers and subjects. Topics covered this year include the aforementioned box turtle, Ohio's breeding birds, ticks, the Ohio Certified Volunteer Naturalist Program, bats, and much more.

The Wildlife Diversity Conference rapidly approaches - March 13, and it's in Columbus at the Aladdin Shriner's Complex at 3850 Stelzer Road. Sorry, I should have been out there with a plug for this some time ago. Anyway, you can register online, or just show up - walk-ins are quite welcome. All of the details and registration info are RIGHT HERE.

Everyone loves singing insects such as the "counting katydid", above, which is more appropriately known as the Broad-winged Bush Katydid. If you want to learn more about Nature's most ancient animal soundmakers, you'll definitely want to attend the March 11 meeting of the Columbus Natural History Society. Lisa Rainsong will give a fascinating presentation entitled Connecting People to Nature's First Musicians. Lisa is an authority on the Orthoptera: crickets, coneheads, katydids, trigs and the rest of the six-legged songsters. Her outstanding blog is HERE. Admission is free, and all of the details are RIGHT HERE.

A short while back, on my birthday as fate would have it, I wrote about this drowsy female Barn Owl. She had taken up an intermittent roost site in a Knox County barn. You can see that post HERE.

While the owl may be drowsy in this photo, she becomes a winged tiger come nightfall, and we've got the pellets to prove it. Read on...

These are Barn Owl pellets. The pellets in this photo are not from the bird in the previous photo; I made this image some years back courtesy of a bird in Jackson County. No matter, the protagonist of this post created pellets just as robust as these. If you scan the aforementioned post you'll some pictures of her handiwork.

The production of an owl pellet is a very necessary bodily function for the owl, but if we humans were to do the same act we would be considered crass indeed. Downright Neanderthal, in fact. Basically, an owl pellet is a giant furball, upchucked via the mouth in the manner of a cat. Much bobbing and wretching can accompany the expulsion of a pellet, but I'm sure the owl feels 10x better afterwards. The contents of a pellet are the indigestible parts of its victims: bone and fur.

Photo: Carma Jo Kauffman

You can only imagine my delight when Carma Jo Kauffman sent along this photo. Had it only been my birthday. In all seriousness, I find this photo utterly cool, and am glad that Carma Jo - sometimes tender of the owl - allowed me to share it with you. On my visit, I snatched a few pellets from the barn floor and did a quick and dirty dissection so that she could see the contents, along with a brief lecture on why owl pellets are made.

Carma Jo took owl pellet dissection many steps further, and she and I believe one of her daughters painstaking extracted and sorted the contents of this pellet. Yes, pellet - everything that you see in this photo was removed from just ONE owl pellet. She's even neatly numbered things - those are seven (7), count 'em, skulls! Various and sundry other underpinnings that create the superstructure of a mouse or vole are scattered about. No wonder these owls gag and heave to expel these pellets!

I am not an adept when it comes to identifying skulls and bones that were festering in owl pellets, but I know the parts in Carma Jo's pellet were from small rodents. The primary victim was probably the hapless beast hanging here, the Meadow Vole, Microtus pennsylvanicus. Do yourself a favor: never come back as a vole. Everyone wants to eat you, and the end will not be pretty. Very few voles, I suspect, die of old age. The animal in this photo was harvested by a Northern Shrike, which unceremoniously hung it in this autumn-olive bush. We saw almost the whole thing go down, and it was cool! The shrike, or butcherbird, came lumbering in toting the vole, disappeared into the shrubs, and as soon as the bird left we dashed in to inspect the kill. Later, the shrike, which is essentially a feathered Vlad the Impaler, would have returned and torn the cute little critter apart, gobbling down the chunks.

If a vole could choose its executioner, it would probably opt for the Barn Owl. The end would come quick, with an unseen and unheard WHACK and a fast bite to sever the base of the spinal cord. Hours later, our vole would come back - as a regurgitated compact mass of fur and bones.

This is a White-footed Mouse, Peromyscus leucopus, another of Nature's furry sausages with legs. They are also probably routine victims of Barn Owls. Rodents such as these are good at what they do, which is eat and reproduce. Thanks to voles, mice and their ilk, we have spectacular predators such as Barn Owls to ooh and ahh over.

Last Friday, I found myself heading off east on Interstate 70, car-surfing a six hour straight line all the way to York, Pennsylvania. A tedious drive indeed, but one that would bring me into close proximity to Tom Ruggles' back yard in Zanesville, Ohio. Tom's been hosting a most special visitor for half a decade; an animal that I really wanted to see.

Tom was good enough to allow me to stop by on my way to PA, and I did. This is a quick Droid snapshot of their backyard, a woody place indeed. Tom has created a virtual arboretum, and as we shall see, it doubles as a cageless aviary.

We were joined by Susan Nash, a local birder who also wanted to see Tom's special feathered guest. Susan is an artist, and in one those cool coincidences, the Ruggles' happened to have one of her works hanging on the wall by the front door. Take a virtual trip to her gallery, Studio 202, HERE.

I was clicking off photos rapidfire in burst mode, as subjects galore presented themselves nearly at arm's length at the battery of feeders on the back deck. Carolina Chickadees were numerous.

One of the feeder bullies, a Red-bellied Woodpecker.

There was a decent influx of Pine Siskins this winter, and a flock was hanging out in Tom's conifers. Nice looking specimens such as this would make periodic trips to the thistle feeders.

Another boreal irruptive that swamped the landscape this winter is the Red-breasted Nuthatch, and at least four individuals were constantly in and out of the feeders.

White-breasted Nuthatches were also common. Note the greatly elongated hind toe on this animal, all the better for bark climbing headfirst.

This was our target, however, and what an incredible bird! It's "just" a Northern Cardinal, but it's obviously not just any old cardinal. This male exhibits a genetic anomaly known as xanthochroism. The "yellowbird" is a seasoned veteran, having frequented the Ruggles' feeders for five years. I've written about the bird before, who has been dubbed Jeffrey by their grandchildren, HERE and HERE.

I've wanted to lay eyes on this cardinal since Tom first shared photos of it, and made an attempt last year. After waiting and watching for three hours, I gave up, a defeated man. Jeffrey does not constantly hang at the feeders. He is quite intermittent in his visits, and usually doesn't stay long. However, we scored quickly this day - he popped in just minutes after my arrival and returned once or twice. All told, he wasn't there long though, and I didn't have the opportunity to leisurely click off lots of shots.

A question that anyone would ask: Why is this normally brilliant scarlet bird yellow? I'll excerpt what I wrote about xanthochroism from a prior post:

This cardinal is exhibiting a condition known as xanthochroism, a genetic anomaly that causes an excess of yellow pigments to show through. It may be caused by darker pigments being suppressed, thus permitting less dominant colorations to shine through.
If we are to get a bit propeller-headed here, the bright red plumage of Northern Cardinals is caused by at least nine different carotenoid pigments. Knock one or some of them out of whack, and we can end up with the bird in the photo or something similar. In my previous post, there is a (bad) photo of a heavily leucistic Red-tailed Hawk. That bird is displaying the effects of yet another genetic anomaly, but one that causes the individual to appear much whiter or paler than normal.

Carotenoids occur in plants and some animals, and birds uptake them as part of their natural diet. It's possible that xanthochroic individuals, like Tom's cardinal, result from dietary deficiencies. A well-known example of the role of carotenoids and bird coloration involves flamingos. If deprived of the blue-green algae and brine shrimp that are rich in beta carotenes that gives them their bright pink plumage, the birds become pale and whitish. By providing captive flamingos with a compound called canthaxanthin, the rich pink coloration can be restored.

Xanthochroism has been documented in a number of bird species, in addition to Northern Cardinals, including: House Finch, Cape May Warbler, Scarlet Tanager, and Red-bellied Woodpecker.

Another question that begs an answer: Does Jeffrey successfully manage to attract a mate and participate in the production of offspring? We don't know. Tom watches for signs of a mate and pair bonding each year, but hasn't yet seen anything. However, Jeffrey seems quite furtive and apparently spends much of his time elsewhere, so it may be hard to pin down his relationship status.

The oldest documented wild Northern Cardinal reached nearly 17 years of age. This fine golden specimen is already at least five years old. With luck, it will live for many more years, delighting all who are fortunate enough to see it.

Quite the cardinal, this one!

Major Gull-fest on Lake Erie

New moth discovered for U.S.!

Some more gulls, and beautiful creatures they are

Kirtland Bird Club - Wednesday night

Herring Gull: that name covers a lot of stuff

A "Long-billed" Nuthatch [updated]

Red Fox, lazing in the sun

Ohio Natural History Conference!

Think Plants!

Barn Owl!

New River Birding & Nature Festival, here we come!

The skunks burst forth - it is offically spring!

Mammalian Dispersal - those annoying prickly burs

Long-eared Owls in willow thicket!

Bank Swallows grace U.S. Postal Service envelopes

Adam Grimm: Ohio Wetlands Habitat Stamp winner!

Two Excellent Events

Owl pellet, dissected

Zanesville's Yellow Cardinal, revisited