Northerly flow will drive winds across New Jersey beginning, according to weather underground, tomorrow afternoon and continuing through until next weekend. Such weather in mid-September surely means we will see our largest push of migrant Broadwing hawks of the fall this week. Depending on wind patterns and conditions, single hawkwatches in New Jersey could see single days of 5,000 or more birds. It is truly a spectacular sight!
Taking a look at birdhawk archives, you can see that hawkwatches to our north were reporting modest totals late last week; between 800-1000 birds. Hawk Mountain in PA already had a one day total of 1100, the vanguard flight if you will, but Broadwings have yet to build up in the Northeast in large numbers. I suspect that between Monday and Wednesday they will, as the remnants of Ike take an exit and a cold front sweeps across the region. This would set things up perfectly for NJ to see a big push Thu or Fri. There's a few weather hiccups between now and then, so keep an eye on the forecast, but this entire week should be great hawk watching.
Looking ahead, with the exception of tomorrow winds will range from N-ENE. Wind direction is important to bear in mind when deciding where to catch the big Broadwing push. Broadwing hawks are buteos, a group of raptors adapted for sustained, low energy soaring. The drawback to such morphology is a greater reliance on winds and conditions to stay aloft. The result is a strong tendency to go with the flow, so to speak. With winds primarily from the Northeast, more inland hawkwatches will be favored, particularly those along the hawk super highway that is the Appalachian ridge. Raccoon Ridge and Hawk Mountain could be excellent. Scott's mountain could also be very good. Watches further east, such as Chimney Rock at the south western terminus of the Watchung range, may see smaller numbers as broadwings have the wind at their backs along less risky, more inland routes. This of course could change as the week goes on, and a substantial shift to the NW would make Chimney Rock, or Montclair at the other end of the Watchungs, the place to be.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
kestrels, nighthawks, and ...friendly invaders?
This is the time of year where migration is evident, even if you aren't really trying.
Duke Farms set a new one day total for stop-over Kestrels, with fifteen(!) working our grasslands this afternoon. We didn't even cover the entire area.
From center bridge in Stockton this evening, I counted sixty two Common Nighthawks.
oh, and somewhere along the way single Nashville and Yellow warblers.
Lastly, in case you didn't catch Tuesday's New York Times this article, titled "Friendly Invaders" is worth a read. As is often the case with the NYT, their bias on invasion science comes out, but it does raise some interesting points.
I'm not going to fly off the handle on this one, but as you read it consider the following:
1. Biodiversity alone is not a good barometer of ecosystem health. So all of these native species of New Zealand are still there, but at what kind of populations? How isolated are they? How have the insects that depend on them been affected? You get the point. There's more to consider than a species list.
2. Biological invasions, especially on large bodies of land, rarely act alone. There is almost always some underlying anthropomorphic disturbance helping to drive the invader's spread. In the Mid-Atlantic, for example, its white-tailed deer and a four hundred year history of screwing up the soil (agricultural land use). I think this idea of strong interactions (such as predation) versus weak interactions (competition) is interesting. I also think its well demonstrated that in an ideal, healthy ecosystem invaders that have to out-compete natives for space either fail to introduce themselves entirely, or manage to assimilate into the ecosystem in some innocuous way. However, disturbed ecosystems are a totally different ball game, and probably better represent reality for most invasion scenarios. Lets face it, there are few places left on earth where we haven't made our mark. Certainly none in New Jersey and I doubt there's very many in New Zealand.
3. These ideas about native snakes rapidly evolving to eat cane toads and the like that Dr. Sax raises throughout this article are hard for me to swallow. There are many excellent scientists who downplay the role of evolutionary history during biological invasions. It is difficult for me to imagine that non-native flora can provide the same value to all of the same species as the plants it replaces. There is two opposing ideas about ecosystems at work here: the ecosystem as the complicated, meticulously constructed natural order that will collapse if disturbed and the ecosystem as the living dynamic thing that will take whatever we can throw at it. Personally, I think its probably somewhere in the middle. The former idea is a little too "Scala Naturae" and the latter stinks of human hubris.
4. Thinking of invasions as a symptom of global change. I think this is a great notion. Species are spreading around the world in unprecedented ways. Dismissing it as another great migration misses the point entirely. We are also exporting nutrients around the world. Nitrogen and Phosphorous are showing up in high concentrations where there should be hardly any at all, largely the result of modern agricultural practices. Of course we are all familiar with the huge net export of Carbon we are putting into the atmosphere, largely as the greenhouse gas Carbon Dioxide. With the science behind these symptoms of global change now universally accepted, does it really make sense to downplay the drastic changes we're seeing in plant and animal communities all over the world? These two elements, the abiotic (non-living) ecosystems components and the biota, are inexorably linked. Change in one will invariably drive change in the other.
Anyway, if you read the article, post a comment and let me know what you think!
Duke Farms set a new one day total for stop-over Kestrels, with fifteen(!) working our grasslands this afternoon. We didn't even cover the entire area.
From center bridge in Stockton this evening, I counted sixty two Common Nighthawks.
oh, and somewhere along the way single Nashville and Yellow warblers.
Lastly, in case you didn't catch Tuesday's New York Times this article, titled "Friendly Invaders" is worth a read. As is often the case with the NYT, their bias on invasion science comes out, but it does raise some interesting points.
I'm not going to fly off the handle on this one, but as you read it consider the following:
1. Biodiversity alone is not a good barometer of ecosystem health. So all of these native species of New Zealand are still there, but at what kind of populations? How isolated are they? How have the insects that depend on them been affected? You get the point. There's more to consider than a species list.
2. Biological invasions, especially on large bodies of land, rarely act alone. There is almost always some underlying anthropomorphic disturbance helping to drive the invader's spread. In the Mid-Atlantic, for example, its white-tailed deer and a four hundred year history of screwing up the soil (agricultural land use). I think this idea of strong interactions (such as predation) versus weak interactions (competition) is interesting. I also think its well demonstrated that in an ideal, healthy ecosystem invaders that have to out-compete natives for space either fail to introduce themselves entirely, or manage to assimilate into the ecosystem in some innocuous way. However, disturbed ecosystems are a totally different ball game, and probably better represent reality for most invasion scenarios. Lets face it, there are few places left on earth where we haven't made our mark. Certainly none in New Jersey and I doubt there's very many in New Zealand.
3. These ideas about native snakes rapidly evolving to eat cane toads and the like that Dr. Sax raises throughout this article are hard for me to swallow. There are many excellent scientists who downplay the role of evolutionary history during biological invasions. It is difficult for me to imagine that non-native flora can provide the same value to all of the same species as the plants it replaces. There is two opposing ideas about ecosystems at work here: the ecosystem as the complicated, meticulously constructed natural order that will collapse if disturbed and the ecosystem as the living dynamic thing that will take whatever we can throw at it. Personally, I think its probably somewhere in the middle. The former idea is a little too "Scala Naturae" and the latter stinks of human hubris.
4. Thinking of invasions as a symptom of global change. I think this is a great notion. Species are spreading around the world in unprecedented ways. Dismissing it as another great migration misses the point entirely. We are also exporting nutrients around the world. Nitrogen and Phosphorous are showing up in high concentrations where there should be hardly any at all, largely the result of modern agricultural practices. Of course we are all familiar with the huge net export of Carbon we are putting into the atmosphere, largely as the greenhouse gas Carbon Dioxide. With the science behind these symptoms of global change now universally accepted, does it really make sense to downplay the drastic changes we're seeing in plant and animal communities all over the world? These two elements, the abiotic (non-living) ecosystems components and the biota, are inexorably linked. Change in one will invariably drive change in the other.
Anyway, if you read the article, post a comment and let me know what you think!
Monday, September 8, 2008
rare flies?
apparently someone keeps track!
We found this monstrous insect at Duke Farms a few weeks back (photo by Mike Van Clef):
Its a robber-fly (family Asilidae). It was later identified (not by me) as Promachus vertebratus, a species for which only two previous NJ records exist! There is nothing for scale in that photo, but this thing was huge; 2-2 1/2 inches from head to tail. According to the first site I pulled up on google by searching Asilidae, these guys are top predators in the insect world. Wikipedia tell me they capture prey using their legs and then inject a mixture of neurotoxin and digestive enzymes directly into the body using their piercing mouthparts.
Man, why do I bother with plants and birds? I'm going to become a Dipterist!
We found this monstrous insect at Duke Farms a few weeks back (photo by Mike Van Clef):
Its a robber-fly (family Asilidae). It was later identified (not by me) as Promachus vertebratus, a species for which only two previous NJ records exist! There is nothing for scale in that photo, but this thing was huge; 2-2 1/2 inches from head to tail. According to the first site I pulled up on google by searching Asilidae, these guys are top predators in the insect world. Wikipedia tell me they capture prey using their legs and then inject a mixture of neurotoxin and digestive enzymes directly into the body using their piercing mouthparts.
Man, why do I bother with plants and birds? I'm going to become a Dipterist!
Monday, August 25, 2008
Nongeographical Migrant Traps
Dave La Puma, over at woodcreeper, had some smart analysis today about local scale movements of migrant passerines, and how that may account for reports of new arrivals even following nights of unfavorable weather. The premise is pretty straightforward; lacking favorable conditions to move on, birds are likely to shift from areas of substandard habitat to prime foraging grounds. Remember that a migrant trap typically works by virtue of its geographic location. The classic example of course is Cape May island, essentially the bottom of the bird funnel that is the state of New Jersey. With thousands of birds packed in to such locations, its only a matter of time before competition, or merely a need to seek more fertile feeding grounds, disperses birds across a wider area. Often the tried and true migrant traps are left desolate. If you don't believe it, goto Sandy Hook after four days of south winds sometime this autumn.
Understanding what makes up prime foraging habitat can make your birding more consistent. No longer do you have to wait for those perfect cold fronts, you can take advantage of "slow days" by visiting sites that concentrate migrants left in the area during the last wave. To follow up on Dave's post, I thought I'd give a quick punch list of the sort of attributes that tend to be common among such locales. Of course these aren't hard and fast rules, but sort of a general set of guidelines.
1. Diverse habitats. Lots of habitat types will provide prime foraging for a greater number of different species. Paulinskill Wildlife Management Area; a locale I like, contains upland forest, open woodlands, meadows, shrubby tangles, a riparian corridor, a freshwater wetland, etc. Equally important are the edges. Its a well accepted pillar of ecology that an edge between two ecosystems tends to be more diverse than the interior of either (the edge effect). A sunlit edge between forest and field is precisely what I think of when asking myself, "where would I find lots of warblers?"
2. Structure. Much like diversity across the landscape, lots of variation in a forest profile can be the difference between poor migrant habitat and a productive birding area. Birders are very familiar with the strong preferences some species have for a specific band in the forest spectrum, such as the Mourning Warbler (almost always associated with dense thickets <5 m above the ground) and the Tennessee Warbler (an infamous source of neck pain). The more strata you take out of the forest, the fewer species you can expect to find. Even for birds with a more generalist approach to the forest profile a diverse structure is beneficial, providing more feeding and roosting opportunities.
3. Oaks. Really any native trees, though Oaks are certainly among the most productive. Such trees are absolutely teeming with insects. Your average oak can support more than five times as many insect larvae than a tree not native to the northeastern United States. Why? Well, I've discussed this at length before. Oaks, by virtue of their evolutionary roots in this region, support a far greater number of different species of insects.
4. Fruit. As the breeding season marches on, fruiting shrubs and trees become incredibly important sources of food for migrant birds. Cold weather snaps may kill off insect food sources before later migrating species, such as Black-throated Blue Warblers, pass into our area. These birds have adapted an ability to switch their diet over to primarily fruit (as opposed to obligated insectivorous species such as Cerulean Warblers, which as a result have to migrate much earlier). Areas with lots of fruiting shrubs and trees can be magnets for migrants. Celtis (Hackberry), Prunus (Cherry), and Cornus (Dogwood) are just a few native genera that are especially favored.
Though it is worth noting that the nativity of the fruit does not matter much. You can certainly see migrants feeding on Ligustrum (Privet), Lonicera (Honeysuckle), Rosa multiflora (Multifloral Rose), and other invasive plants. In fact, passerine migrants likely play a big role in moving invasive species from one region to another. Aralia elata (Japanese Angelica Tree) a newly emerging invasive species in the Midatlantic region, seems to be (based on pure anecdotal evidence only) distributed primarily along major migration routes in New Jersey. If you go to the parking lot of the Chimney Rock hawk-watch in September, you can witness dozens of birds gorging themselves on Aralia berries.
5. Sun. This, for me, was an overlooked ingredient of prime feeding habitat until last fall. Look for the little spots that: (1) get sunny the earliest in the morning and (2) stay sunny latest in the evening. Even a little increase in air temperature will get insects moving and birds from hundreds of yards away will converge on the area.
So thats it, five things to look for when seeking good foraging habitat. Of course this is only a starter list, so if anyone has additional suggestions please leave a comment. Make sure to get out and find some feeding sites, then check them on that next slow day. You may end up pleasantly surprised!
Understanding what makes up prime foraging habitat can make your birding more consistent. No longer do you have to wait for those perfect cold fronts, you can take advantage of "slow days" by visiting sites that concentrate migrants left in the area during the last wave. To follow up on Dave's post, I thought I'd give a quick punch list of the sort of attributes that tend to be common among such locales. Of course these aren't hard and fast rules, but sort of a general set of guidelines.
1. Diverse habitats. Lots of habitat types will provide prime foraging for a greater number of different species. Paulinskill Wildlife Management Area; a locale I like, contains upland forest, open woodlands, meadows, shrubby tangles, a riparian corridor, a freshwater wetland, etc. Equally important are the edges. Its a well accepted pillar of ecology that an edge between two ecosystems tends to be more diverse than the interior of either (the edge effect). A sunlit edge between forest and field is precisely what I think of when asking myself, "where would I find lots of warblers?"
2. Structure. Much like diversity across the landscape, lots of variation in a forest profile can be the difference between poor migrant habitat and a productive birding area. Birders are very familiar with the strong preferences some species have for a specific band in the forest spectrum, such as the Mourning Warbler (almost always associated with dense thickets <5 m above the ground) and the Tennessee Warbler (an infamous source of neck pain). The more strata you take out of the forest, the fewer species you can expect to find. Even for birds with a more generalist approach to the forest profile a diverse structure is beneficial, providing more feeding and roosting opportunities.
3. Oaks. Really any native trees, though Oaks are certainly among the most productive. Such trees are absolutely teeming with insects. Your average oak can support more than five times as many insect larvae than a tree not native to the northeastern United States. Why? Well, I've discussed this at length before. Oaks, by virtue of their evolutionary roots in this region, support a far greater number of different species of insects.
4. Fruit. As the breeding season marches on, fruiting shrubs and trees become incredibly important sources of food for migrant birds. Cold weather snaps may kill off insect food sources before later migrating species, such as Black-throated Blue Warblers, pass into our area. These birds have adapted an ability to switch their diet over to primarily fruit (as opposed to obligated insectivorous species such as Cerulean Warblers, which as a result have to migrate much earlier). Areas with lots of fruiting shrubs and trees can be magnets for migrants. Celtis (Hackberry), Prunus (Cherry), and Cornus (Dogwood) are just a few native genera that are especially favored.
Though it is worth noting that the nativity of the fruit does not matter much. You can certainly see migrants feeding on Ligustrum (Privet), Lonicera (Honeysuckle), Rosa multiflora (Multifloral Rose), and other invasive plants. In fact, passerine migrants likely play a big role in moving invasive species from one region to another. Aralia elata (Japanese Angelica Tree) a newly emerging invasive species in the Midatlantic region, seems to be (based on pure anecdotal evidence only) distributed primarily along major migration routes in New Jersey. If you go to the parking lot of the Chimney Rock hawk-watch in September, you can witness dozens of birds gorging themselves on Aralia berries.
5. Sun. This, for me, was an overlooked ingredient of prime feeding habitat until last fall. Look for the little spots that: (1) get sunny the earliest in the morning and (2) stay sunny latest in the evening. Even a little increase in air temperature will get insects moving and birds from hundreds of yards away will converge on the area.
So thats it, five things to look for when seeking good foraging habitat. Of course this is only a starter list, so if anyone has additional suggestions please leave a comment. Make sure to get out and find some feeding sites, then check them on that next slow day. You may end up pleasantly surprised!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
a few migrants around
There were signs of southbound migration around yesterday, though they were few and far between. A slight increase in the number of singing Peewees around our house in Stockton as well as Bull's Island State Park, a lone female Scarlet Tanager making a brief appearance in the backyard, and a few dozen Chimney Swifts (some of which are probably still the locals) made up the most obvious evidence on a round of casual birding. Friday I saw my first fall Osprey, hunting on the lakes at Duke Farms. That bird was certainly a migrant; we never observe local birds using our lakes during the breeding season.
As a recent Hunterdon County transplant, I haven't yet figured out the local hotspots for migrant passerines. I suspect that the Stockton area, situated on flat land between two small ridges, may be a bit of a dead zone but it'll be great to put that theory to the test. I suppose it will depend on how many birds depart the ridges in favor of moving down the river. A similar effect can make the Delaware river corridor in the Walpack Valley (western Sussex County) excellent under the right conditions. Strong easterly winds would probably push birds off the Sourlands and right into our area as well. Probably the key will be finding the geographical features and prime feeding habitats that will concentrate migrants. I have a few hunches, I'll be sure to post reports as I check them out. In the mean time, suggestions would be appreciated if you're familiar with the area!
As a recent Hunterdon County transplant, I haven't yet figured out the local hotspots for migrant passerines. I suspect that the Stockton area, situated on flat land between two small ridges, may be a bit of a dead zone but it'll be great to put that theory to the test. I suppose it will depend on how many birds depart the ridges in favor of moving down the river. A similar effect can make the Delaware river corridor in the Walpack Valley (western Sussex County) excellent under the right conditions. Strong easterly winds would probably push birds off the Sourlands and right into our area as well. Probably the key will be finding the geographical features and prime feeding habitats that will concentrate migrants. I have a few hunches, I'll be sure to post reports as I check them out. In the mean time, suggestions would be appreciated if you're familiar with the area!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Year in Life
I had my 'its that time of year again' moment this morning, when I spotted a dark juvenile Merlin perched atop a telephone pole on my way to work. Upon arriving, a coworker remarked that two Harriers were coursing our grasslands that morning. The grasslands, last week alive with fledgling Ammodramus sparrows, are silent save for the occasional 'jimp' of a lingering Bobolink or the rattling alarm call of a Meadowlark. Most of these birds have passed on as well. Our fields peaked at nearly 50 Meadowlarks in one day two weeks back and they've been in short supply ever since. Autumn is here.
'Autumn?' you say, 'but its only August!'. That's true, but other species have no regard for the Julian Calendar and a good naturalist must remember that. I count the day I ceased to pay attention to seasons as defined by solstices and equinoxes and instead began to follow the cues of migrants as one of my greatest revelations as a birder. It was then that I realized I was missing more than half of migration!
To me, the greatest joy in naturalism is gaining insight into the sychrony of the landscape and the organisms that use it. The flight of migrant birds does not occur unassisted; it times perfectly with swells in insect populations and the ripening of fall fruit. Predatory birds come along for the ride, dependent on the big concentrations of their small cousins to better chances of obtaining a much needed meal. In a great choreographed dance the whole food chain rolls down the continent, leaving the landscape to sleep behind it, and the animals that remain behind to eke out a living until the whole thing happens again.
You don't have to go far to find something extraordinary about nature. A Black-throated Green Warbler foraging in an Eastern Hemlock will do. Such a scene tells a story; of bird, insect, and tree in a relationship rooted in time and sustained for millenia. A single thread in the tapestry of life that defines a year in nature. Endless delight awaits those who take the time to pay attention to it.
'Autumn?' you say, 'but its only August!'. That's true, but other species have no regard for the Julian Calendar and a good naturalist must remember that. I count the day I ceased to pay attention to seasons as defined by solstices and equinoxes and instead began to follow the cues of migrants as one of my greatest revelations as a birder. It was then that I realized I was missing more than half of migration!
To me, the greatest joy in naturalism is gaining insight into the sychrony of the landscape and the organisms that use it. The flight of migrant birds does not occur unassisted; it times perfectly with swells in insect populations and the ripening of fall fruit. Predatory birds come along for the ride, dependent on the big concentrations of their small cousins to better chances of obtaining a much needed meal. In a great choreographed dance the whole food chain rolls down the continent, leaving the landscape to sleep behind it, and the animals that remain behind to eke out a living until the whole thing happens again.
You don't have to go far to find something extraordinary about nature. A Black-throated Green Warbler foraging in an Eastern Hemlock will do. Such a scene tells a story; of bird, insect, and tree in a relationship rooted in time and sustained for millenia. A single thread in the tapestry of life that defines a year in nature. Endless delight awaits those who take the time to pay attention to it.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Pictures
Just a few pictures I snapped this weekend. Most of these were taken around my "pollinator garden". I use the term very loosely; its only three plants. One purple giant hyssop, one anise hyssop, and one narrow-leaved mountain mint.
A spring peeper perched on a hyssop leaf, laying low in the hot part of the day. Do you think it was coincidence that this is where it happened to choose? I doubt it, this plant was teeming with insects. Backyard food chains in action!
This daddy longlegs (thats the scientific name right???) appeared to be nectaring at hyssop flowers. I've always thought this group was strictly detritivorous, so if anyone has any insight I'd love to hear it.
One of about ten species of hymenoptera (bees, wasps, etc) frequenting my plants.
a dog-day cicada
A spring peeper perched on a hyssop leaf, laying low in the hot part of the day. Do you think it was coincidence that this is where it happened to choose? I doubt it, this plant was teeming with insects. Backyard food chains in action!
This daddy longlegs (thats the scientific name right???) appeared to be nectaring at hyssop flowers. I've always thought this group was strictly detritivorous, so if anyone has any insight I'd love to hear it.
One of about ten species of hymenoptera (bees, wasps, etc) frequenting my plants.
a dog-day cicada
Sunday, August 10, 2008
more on invasives
Following up on my post yesterday, I had two thoughts about adjustments that could be made to the jargon that might avoid misconceptions about the ecology of biological invasions
1. Think of the alien species problem not as a series of unrelated 'invasions', but as an overall homogenization of the world's biota. On a global scale, thats exactly whats happening. Sometimes you hear people refer to non-native plant introductions as environmentally beneficial, as they 'increase biodiversity'. Even if you allow for this to be true on locally (which I would contend it usually isn't, not to mention the fact that biodiversity alone is by no means an accurate yardstick of ecosystem health), what we are seeing across the planet is rapid range expansions by certain groups of organisms, with regionally endemic species losing out. Some of these changes in distributions are driven by changing climate patterns, but others are directly linked to humans shuttling species all around the world for one reason or another.
2. The use of the term 'native plant'. The meaning is far too nebulous for someone who does not come from a science background. Also, as demonstrated by Mike Pollan's article, it incites erroneous accusations of secondary motives and a desire to keep nature 'pure'. I can't say I have a catchy new term in mind, but it would have to frame a species' place in relation to it being vital for the ecological integrity of an area. If anyone has any suggestions, leave a comment!
1. Think of the alien species problem not as a series of unrelated 'invasions', but as an overall homogenization of the world's biota. On a global scale, thats exactly whats happening. Sometimes you hear people refer to non-native plant introductions as environmentally beneficial, as they 'increase biodiversity'. Even if you allow for this to be true on locally (which I would contend it usually isn't, not to mention the fact that biodiversity alone is by no means an accurate yardstick of ecosystem health), what we are seeing across the planet is rapid range expansions by certain groups of organisms, with regionally endemic species losing out. Some of these changes in distributions are driven by changing climate patterns, but others are directly linked to humans shuttling species all around the world for one reason or another.
2. The use of the term 'native plant'. The meaning is far too nebulous for someone who does not come from a science background. Also, as demonstrated by Mike Pollan's article, it incites erroneous accusations of secondary motives and a desire to keep nature 'pure'. I can't say I have a catchy new term in mind, but it would have to frame a species' place in relation to it being vital for the ecological integrity of an area. If anyone has any suggestions, leave a comment!
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Invasive Plants- its not evolution
"So why aren't people just another means of plant dispersion? Isn't the spread of non-native species just an example of an organism evolving into a new environment?" If ever there was an argument invasion ecologists would love to put to bed, it is that one. Though never reaching wide acceptance, this idea has existed in the gardening world in varying degrees of extremity for as long as the term 'invasive plant' has been known beyond the realm of theoretical ecology. Such arguments usually run along the same theme: the case against non-native plants is at best anti-humanist and at worst an expression of latent xenophobia. The argument is summed up quite nicely in "Against Nativism", a New York Times article by noted science writer Michael Pollan from 1994. It may not be quite fair to hold words written by Mr. Pollan, whose books I quite like, fourteen years ago against him (though he apparently reconfirmed his convinctions more recently in the blogosphere). But I only read the article recently, and its a good medium from which to make a few points.
I'm going to leave the philosophizing aside. Of course such conjecture about the extent to which humans should influence the natural world is a value judgement. In a broad sense, I actually agree with quite a bit of this article. There are roughly fifty thousand introduced plants in use throughout the United States. Of those, only a fraction are considered invasive, with as few as thirty marked as high conservation priority in New Jersey. Many naturalized weeds confine themselves to old lots and other waste places, such as the wild carrot to which Mr. Pollan refers. Such plants can hardly be thought of as invaders and, much like the House Sparrow, their global distribution has become part of the story of human immigration. Of course one can say, "well they still occupy a place a native plant could be", but ultimately their impact is miniscule compared to more pressing issues.
But what of the thirty that do not behave themselves? Here, Michael Pollan's argument takes a turn that took me by surprise. Here's what he had to say:
"There's no question that these migrations are sometimes destructive of the ecological status quo, if indeed such a thing even exists. But migrations of species by whatever means is an abiding part of natural history; in any event, they're almost always irreversible. Turning back the ecological clock to 1492 is a fool's errand, futile and pointless to boot. It seems to me we gardeners would do better to try to work with the mongrel ecology we've inherited -- to start out from here."
Coming from the champion of food production as a complex system, I was struck by the over simplification implied in this statement. An ecosystem is a mind-bogglingly complex thing, this we've already established. To suggest that a plant out of its ecological context, free of its natural predators, pests, and competitors, will merely be a blip in our region's natural history seems incredulous. Its like throwing a rock at a glass house and not only expecting the house to rebuild itself, but to find a useful place for the rock as well. Can we truly call this evolution? I would argue that we can't. To me, evolution is the sum of a species' trials and tribulations, the series of influences that defines its niche. In absence of this, is a species truly evolving? In a strictly biological sense of course, but in an ecological context its role becomes boundless and therefore meaningless. A different word is in order, and 'invasion' certainly describes what happens quite well.
I am also bothered by the suggestion that human transport represents merely another form of migration. I don't think it is quite that simple. While I'm sure there is a myriad of reasons one could point out as to why thats true, a big one come to mind for me. First of all, these introductions are not random. Most invasive plants were purposely selected and brought here for horticultural purposes. Given the harsh nature of formal landscape, a species' resilience is often heavily considered. I wrote more about the ecological issues associated with this idea here, so I wont go into detail. But if we accept that this "human selection" plays a role in vetting invasive species, how can such a 'migration' be akin to movement by wind or water? Mr. Pollan is right to say evolution will draw no distinction, but he fails to consider the fact that we've already taken care of this before a plant can even make it to the natural environment.
Ecology is very much a "sum of all its parts" concept. I certainly do not prescribe to the idea that humans play no role in shaping the natural world, but I am skeptical that moving plants between natural environments at distances of thousands of miles constitutes a helping hand or represents a natural process. The level of disruption is too great for me to accept that it is merely a change in status quo. Trying to frame the results of biological invasion in philosophical argument stems from a failure to recognize that we as a species are quite capable of being a negative influence on the natural world. If believing such makes me anti-humanist, than so be it.
Anyway, I'm sure there will be more on this later. For now it is a great day and I'm going back outside.
I'm going to leave the philosophizing aside. Of course such conjecture about the extent to which humans should influence the natural world is a value judgement. In a broad sense, I actually agree with quite a bit of this article. There are roughly fifty thousand introduced plants in use throughout the United States. Of those, only a fraction are considered invasive, with as few as thirty marked as high conservation priority in New Jersey. Many naturalized weeds confine themselves to old lots and other waste places, such as the wild carrot to which Mr. Pollan refers. Such plants can hardly be thought of as invaders and, much like the House Sparrow, their global distribution has become part of the story of human immigration. Of course one can say, "well they still occupy a place a native plant could be", but ultimately their impact is miniscule compared to more pressing issues.
But what of the thirty that do not behave themselves? Here, Michael Pollan's argument takes a turn that took me by surprise. Here's what he had to say:
"There's no question that these migrations are sometimes destructive of the ecological status quo, if indeed such a thing even exists. But migrations of species by whatever means is an abiding part of natural history; in any event, they're almost always irreversible. Turning back the ecological clock to 1492 is a fool's errand, futile and pointless to boot. It seems to me we gardeners would do better to try to work with the mongrel ecology we've inherited -- to start out from here."
Coming from the champion of food production as a complex system, I was struck by the over simplification implied in this statement. An ecosystem is a mind-bogglingly complex thing, this we've already established. To suggest that a plant out of its ecological context, free of its natural predators, pests, and competitors, will merely be a blip in our region's natural history seems incredulous. Its like throwing a rock at a glass house and not only expecting the house to rebuild itself, but to find a useful place for the rock as well. Can we truly call this evolution? I would argue that we can't. To me, evolution is the sum of a species' trials and tribulations, the series of influences that defines its niche. In absence of this, is a species truly evolving? In a strictly biological sense of course, but in an ecological context its role becomes boundless and therefore meaningless. A different word is in order, and 'invasion' certainly describes what happens quite well.
I am also bothered by the suggestion that human transport represents merely another form of migration. I don't think it is quite that simple. While I'm sure there is a myriad of reasons one could point out as to why thats true, a big one come to mind for me. First of all, these introductions are not random. Most invasive plants were purposely selected and brought here for horticultural purposes. Given the harsh nature of formal landscape, a species' resilience is often heavily considered. I wrote more about the ecological issues associated with this idea here, so I wont go into detail. But if we accept that this "human selection" plays a role in vetting invasive species, how can such a 'migration' be akin to movement by wind or water? Mr. Pollan is right to say evolution will draw no distinction, but he fails to consider the fact that we've already taken care of this before a plant can even make it to the natural environment.
Ecology is very much a "sum of all its parts" concept. I certainly do not prescribe to the idea that humans play no role in shaping the natural world, but I am skeptical that moving plants between natural environments at distances of thousands of miles constitutes a helping hand or represents a natural process. The level of disruption is too great for me to accept that it is merely a change in status quo. Trying to frame the results of biological invasion in philosophical argument stems from a failure to recognize that we as a species are quite capable of being a negative influence on the natural world. If believing such makes me anti-humanist, than so be it.
Anyway, I'm sure there will be more on this later. For now it is a great day and I'm going back outside.
Friday, August 8, 2008
vegetables
It must be mid-summer...here's a picture of one week's haul from our CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) share at Honeybrook Organic Farm. For those not familiar with the concept, a CSA is sort of a group investment in a farmer's success. Share members pay a lump sum prior to the growing season, fronting the farmer capital to run the operation, and reap the benefits in the form of weekly vegetable shares all season long. It turns out to be a great deal...ours averages under 30 dollars a week. Of course earlier and later in the season the volume is nothing like the picture above, but I've been consistently impressed with the volume of food we've received. If you're interested in buying your food local (which you should be) it is a great way to keep costs down.
Posting about vegetables may seem like an aside from my blog's focus, but it really is not. In fact, I made this post so I could discuss exactly that. I've touched a little bit on how connected our food production is to the natural world in a previous post about grassland birds. Lately, 'buy local' has been heavily touted throughout the green world, though usually in reference to savings in energy (the amount of oil involved in producing food on an industrial scale and shipping it from centralized growing locations, often not even in this country, is truly astronomical). However, small operation organic farms can also act as exceptional natural places, particularly for pollinating insects. The plight of the European honey bee has been well publicized. The major declines in our native pollinators; bees, wasps, beetles, butterflies, moths, bugs, etc has not. Where are these native insects going? They're succumbing to habitat loss.
Suburban sprawl has all but vanquished the meadow from New Jersey's landscape. What little of such habitat remains is usually (you guessed it) choked with invasive species and non-native weeds that provide substandard food for native insects. I'm sure you wont be surprised if I say that deer don't help, following the same pattern as with woodlands, eating the natives and passing up the invasives. Of course, you see little patches of native flowers here and there, especially this time of year, but crucial links between these habitats have been destroyed. These little isolated patches of flowers are inhabited by little isolated populations of insects. Without the ability to mix with other populations and breed the survivorship of such insect species is greatly diminished.
This example is illustrative of an ecological concept called the metapopulation; essentially a 'population of populations'. The interactions between populations, also called metapopulation dynamics, is crucial to species survival. Individuals leave one population and travel to another. Upon arrival, they breed with individuals outside of the population from which they came. Such links are crucial for maintaining genetic diversity and are severely compromised when habitat is overly fragmented. The very reason grassland birds are doing so poorly in New Jersey is because we have severely damaged these links by isolating populations beyond distances individuals are capable of traveling. The exact same thing is happening with native pollinating insects. The difference is that the path to their conservation is much clearer.
So this is where the organic farmers and backyard gardeners come in. We can't all create a grassland, but we can all provide pollinator habitat. Field margins on small farms can can easily and cheaply be planted with native wildflowers. In exchange, insects will be happy to pollinate vegetable crops as well. These patches of dense native vegetation also serve as shelter for predators, beetles such as ladybugs and others, that devour plant pest insects by the thousands. Free pest control! The same principles can be applied to a home garden, plant an edge of native vegetation on one side and reap the benefits. Before long you'll find yourself making a bee line (ha ha) for the flowers as soon as you get home, just to see who's hanging around. A lot of these little critters are really, really cool looking.
Our culture has a tendency to separate the natural world from the spaces in which we inhabit, whether its through rejection or assumption that nature can't integrate. That simply isn't true and the survival of our local biota depends on that notion coming to an end. We need to bring nature into our yards and farms; to de-sterilize our lawns, landscapes, and row crops. Doing so will help reconnect the 'wild areas', the green spaces and preserved natural lands that dot New Jersey's landscape.
The way we produce food in this nation currently is a deliberate attempt to step away from the natural world, to remove the vagaries of environment from the equation. I don't think its coincidental that as an industrial food chain fed the suburbs, the suburban landscape likewise became obsessed with symmetry, cleanliness, and an obsessive desire to simplify the environment as much as possible. Boiling down the incredible, wonderful complexity of the natural world into a series of logical, orderly steps is a failing enterprise. If we accept what I said at the beginning of this piece, that our food is inexorably linked to the natural world, than the same is true of the industrial food model. In the future, buying local may cease to be a virtuous act of those concerned with such issues and instead become a practical necessity.
So what do you do with three bowls of tomatoes, weighing in at 8.5 lbs (especially when you expect the same amount next week)? Slow roast and freeze them for the winter! Winter tomatoes always come from Mexico or somewhere else where food eaten in New Jersey really shouldn't. Besides, shipping a tomato that kind of distance really results in a tasteless and mealy experience. Cover a baking sheet with aluminum foil. Half small tomatoes and quarter large ones, and arrange them cut side up on the sheet. Preheat your oven 225 F. Sprinkle tomatoes with olive oil and salt, pepper, and herbs (thyme or oregano) to taste. Let roast until they're done (trust me, you'll know). This is a project to start in the morning when you have all day. Pack in quart-size tupperware containers or ziplock bags and freeze. The insects will thank you.
If you're interested in reading a more thorough and better written account of the ideas I've begun to lay out here, check out Bringing Nature Home by University of Delaware entomologist Doug Tallamy.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Pictures from Cushetunk Mountain
I finally remembered to upload my pictures from a visit to Cushetunk Mountain a month or so ago. This little nature preserve is part of the Hunterdon County Parks system and is definitely worth a visit. It has some of the healthiest, most intact forest I've seen in New Jersey, let alone in a largely suburban county like Hunterdon! It really is truly amazing.
You don't have to stray off the trail to find a variety of native plants; this picture was taken pretty much right at my feet! Geranium maculatum (Wild Geranium), Arisaema triphyllum (Jack-in-the-pulpit), and Amphicarpa bracteata (Hog Peanut) flourished. There was numerous Galearis spectabilis (Showy Orchis) as well, though we had missed their bloom time.
The understory was amazingly intact. It is difficult to see in this picture (I truly am a lousy photographer) but pretty much all of that green is Viburnum acerifolium (Maple-leaved Viburnum)! This shrub, once the dominant component of the understory in central New Jersey forests, has all but disappeared due to intense levels of deer browse.
A bunch of Maple-leaved Viburnum seedlings. Another striking feature of this site was the high levels of recruitment (seedling survival). In deer disturbed forests, seedlings are rare. Very few of them manage to make it through their first several years of growth, after which they will be above the "browse line" and less susceptible to deer damage. As a result, there are no trees to fill canopy gaps when elders fall. These gaps tend to stay open and fill in with weedy invasives.
Taken from the same spot as the photo above, but with a wider perspective. There is SO MANY SEEDLINGS! Not just viburnum, but also plenty of Quercus (Oak), Acer saccharum (Sugar Maple), and Carya (Hickory).
This shot shows a pretty good healthy forest profile. Note all the layers: ground level thick with seedlings and herbs, low shrubs, high shrubs, lower canopy trees, and the big guys looming overhead. Now think about the last patch of woods you were in and compare. If it was in New Jersey it was probably something like: stiltgrass, barberry, nothing, nothing, canopy. That simplification of forest structure doesn't just mean doom for native plants, it interferes with the forest's functional capabilities and provides low quality wildlife habitat.
Cimicifuga racemosa (Black Cohosh) inflorescence, before bloom. I liked this picture so I'm including it!
In conclusion, GO! This weekend. In fact, go right now. Everyone with a vested interest in preserving New Jersey's biodiversity and natural beauty needs to see this place. Human involvement in restoring function to our forest ecosystems has become a necessity in this state, and areas like Cushetunk Mountain provide an excellent baseline. They are also great points for interpreting goals of ecological stewardship. Most of us have heard the "restore to what?" argument against Restoration Ecology before. There is sometimes a misconception that the goals of the discipline are rooted in time, and it is driven by a desire to recreate an 'untouched wilderness' in New Jersey, a snapshot of what the landscape looked like before humans arrived. That couldn't be further from the truth. Its also not an obtainable goal, since New Jersey has never not been inhabited by people in its post ice age ecological context, but thats another story entirely. We strive to restore ecosystems to function, to reintroduce the plants, create spaces for the creatures that inhabit them, and allow for balance with soil and air. Perhaps it is better to think of it as healing, seeking to encourage healthy environments upon the landscape you're given. We all know of wildlife rehabilitators, so just think of environmental stewards as ecosystem rehabilitators!
Directions and more information can be found here. I have no idea how Hunterdon Parks manages their land, but they're doing something right! Cushetunk is only one of several very nice areas they own. Lastly, on a completely unrelated note, here's a photo of a katydid I took as it waited out the day on my narrow-leaved mountain mint. Again, I just really like this picture.
You don't have to stray off the trail to find a variety of native plants; this picture was taken pretty much right at my feet! Geranium maculatum (Wild Geranium), Arisaema triphyllum (Jack-in-the-pulpit), and Amphicarpa bracteata (Hog Peanut) flourished. There was numerous Galearis spectabilis (Showy Orchis) as well, though we had missed their bloom time.
The understory was amazingly intact. It is difficult to see in this picture (I truly am a lousy photographer) but pretty much all of that green is Viburnum acerifolium (Maple-leaved Viburnum)! This shrub, once the dominant component of the understory in central New Jersey forests, has all but disappeared due to intense levels of deer browse.
A bunch of Maple-leaved Viburnum seedlings. Another striking feature of this site was the high levels of recruitment (seedling survival). In deer disturbed forests, seedlings are rare. Very few of them manage to make it through their first several years of growth, after which they will be above the "browse line" and less susceptible to deer damage. As a result, there are no trees to fill canopy gaps when elders fall. These gaps tend to stay open and fill in with weedy invasives.
Taken from the same spot as the photo above, but with a wider perspective. There is SO MANY SEEDLINGS! Not just viburnum, but also plenty of Quercus (Oak), Acer saccharum (Sugar Maple), and Carya (Hickory).
This shot shows a pretty good healthy forest profile. Note all the layers: ground level thick with seedlings and herbs, low shrubs, high shrubs, lower canopy trees, and the big guys looming overhead. Now think about the last patch of woods you were in and compare. If it was in New Jersey it was probably something like: stiltgrass, barberry, nothing, nothing, canopy. That simplification of forest structure doesn't just mean doom for native plants, it interferes with the forest's functional capabilities and provides low quality wildlife habitat.
Cimicifuga racemosa (Black Cohosh) inflorescence, before bloom. I liked this picture so I'm including it!
In conclusion, GO! This weekend. In fact, go right now. Everyone with a vested interest in preserving New Jersey's biodiversity and natural beauty needs to see this place. Human involvement in restoring function to our forest ecosystems has become a necessity in this state, and areas like Cushetunk Mountain provide an excellent baseline. They are also great points for interpreting goals of ecological stewardship. Most of us have heard the "restore to what?" argument against Restoration Ecology before. There is sometimes a misconception that the goals of the discipline are rooted in time, and it is driven by a desire to recreate an 'untouched wilderness' in New Jersey, a snapshot of what the landscape looked like before humans arrived. That couldn't be further from the truth. Its also not an obtainable goal, since New Jersey has never not been inhabited by people in its post ice age ecological context, but thats another story entirely. We strive to restore ecosystems to function, to reintroduce the plants, create spaces for the creatures that inhabit them, and allow for balance with soil and air. Perhaps it is better to think of it as healing, seeking to encourage healthy environments upon the landscape you're given. We all know of wildlife rehabilitators, so just think of environmental stewards as ecosystem rehabilitators!
Directions and more information can be found here. I have no idea how Hunterdon Parks manages their land, but they're doing something right! Cushetunk is only one of several very nice areas they own. Lastly, on a completely unrelated note, here's a photo of a katydid I took as it waited out the day on my narrow-leaved mountain mint. Again, I just really like this picture.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Native plants at Lowes'
Last week I did something I never would have thought possible: I bought a suprisingly healthy looking Solidago caesia from the garden center at the Lowes' Hardware store in Newton. An acquaintance involved with the Native Plant Society of New Jersey had recently told me that Lowes' representatives contacted their organization for guidance on what species they should offer. I had been warned not to expect much. Indeed, when I arrived the selection was small, rife with odd cultivars, and completely devoid of the crowds of interested buyers I dreamed I'd see. I've had many conversations in which I vociferously argued that the only thing keeping everyone from incorporating native plants into their gardens was lack of availability. If the prime retailers were going to tap the native plant market, surely it was only a matter of time until the suburban habitat revolution began, right? Well, not quite, but capturing the interest of a big chain store is certainly a victory.
Small signs were posted at each corner of the display, touting the benefits of gardening with native plants: "Easy to grow, requires less water, needs little maintenance". The concept of a 'native plant' was summed up succinctly, "they thrive here because they belong here". There was no mention of value for wildlife, of the need for gardeners willing to create refuges for these species as they are evermore annihilated in field and forest. Of course that came as no surprise, and I wouldn't dream of asking so much. Baby steps.
I wandered around the display, examining the stock. The NPSNJ folks had guided them well, the species choices were all sensible. Attractive, easy to grow perrenials like Aquilega and Solidago, some hearty graminoids such as Carex pennsylvanica, and a few woody species; most notably several Viburnum dentatum. A group of plants nearly impossible to kill, all of which would enhance habitat value whether the gardener intended to or not. I found myself silently congratulating Lowes' consultants. This had to be a ploy on their part; a covert operation of mass suburban habitat restoration. They had infiltrated the Lowes' garden center, these hallowed grounds of golden mop cedar, Miscanthus grass, and Berberis thunbergii var. atropurpurea, and now natives were being impressed upon the store's hapless customers.
Inspired, I decided to make a sale. A woman had come up, and was examining the goldenrods. Doubt was scrawled across her face. I made my pitch, "Thats a great plant. Really easy to grow, and it will attract tons of pollinators." She seemed to consider this for a moment.
"I already have too many insects in my garden", she said, and moved on to other plant displays. I briefly considered stopping her to explain the benefits of attracting pollinators. That if she gardened vegetables, or even other landscape plants, their very lives were tied to the existence of such industrious little creatures. That habitat was vanishing at an alarming rate, and that the very simple act of buying a goldenrod and planting it in her garden would be a monumental act of environmentalism. But instead I said nothing, and she walked off. Like I said, baby steps.
I paid entirely too much for my plant, and left the store. I went home and planted it in my newly established native plant garden, among other stock I had purchased from Bowman's Hill Wildflower Preserve and NJ Audubon. Needless to say, it will not be possible for Lowes' hardware to replace the niche organizations like Bowman's or small specialty growers like Toadshade Wildflower Farm fill. These organizations are constantly making new species available to their customers, relying as much as possible on local ecotypes, and seamlessly weaving in their business with environmental education. They provide personal touches that the most discriminating plant buyers wont want to do without.
Many of us are drawn to gardening with native plants because it is different. But lets face it, much the way organic food has been co-opted by mainstream retail stores, it was only a matter of time before native plants crept in from the fringe. In the interest of good stewardship, we need to embrace this change. Suburbia has come to dominate too much of the landscape, and is far too crowded with foreign plants our native fauna find completely useless. Don't get me wrong, I worry about the way big box garden stores can influence the plant supply. I turn my nose up at cultivars and aspire to use only plants native to my region. However, changes across society are rarely radical, and I strongly believe in taking what you can get. Personally, I'll buy from purist growers, but I'm glad to know that when people ask me where to buy native plants I can now point them to their nearest Lowes' hardware store.
Small signs were posted at each corner of the display, touting the benefits of gardening with native plants: "Easy to grow, requires less water, needs little maintenance". The concept of a 'native plant' was summed up succinctly, "they thrive here because they belong here". There was no mention of value for wildlife, of the need for gardeners willing to create refuges for these species as they are evermore annihilated in field and forest. Of course that came as no surprise, and I wouldn't dream of asking so much. Baby steps.
I wandered around the display, examining the stock. The NPSNJ folks had guided them well, the species choices were all sensible. Attractive, easy to grow perrenials like Aquilega and Solidago, some hearty graminoids such as Carex pennsylvanica, and a few woody species; most notably several Viburnum dentatum. A group of plants nearly impossible to kill, all of which would enhance habitat value whether the gardener intended to or not. I found myself silently congratulating Lowes' consultants. This had to be a ploy on their part; a covert operation of mass suburban habitat restoration. They had infiltrated the Lowes' garden center, these hallowed grounds of golden mop cedar, Miscanthus grass, and Berberis thunbergii var. atropurpurea, and now natives were being impressed upon the store's hapless customers.
Inspired, I decided to make a sale. A woman had come up, and was examining the goldenrods. Doubt was scrawled across her face. I made my pitch, "Thats a great plant. Really easy to grow, and it will attract tons of pollinators." She seemed to consider this for a moment.
"I already have too many insects in my garden", she said, and moved on to other plant displays. I briefly considered stopping her to explain the benefits of attracting pollinators. That if she gardened vegetables, or even other landscape plants, their very lives were tied to the existence of such industrious little creatures. That habitat was vanishing at an alarming rate, and that the very simple act of buying a goldenrod and planting it in her garden would be a monumental act of environmentalism. But instead I said nothing, and she walked off. Like I said, baby steps.
I paid entirely too much for my plant, and left the store. I went home and planted it in my newly established native plant garden, among other stock I had purchased from Bowman's Hill Wildflower Preserve and NJ Audubon. Needless to say, it will not be possible for Lowes' hardware to replace the niche organizations like Bowman's or small specialty growers like Toadshade Wildflower Farm fill. These organizations are constantly making new species available to their customers, relying as much as possible on local ecotypes, and seamlessly weaving in their business with environmental education. They provide personal touches that the most discriminating plant buyers wont want to do without.
Many of us are drawn to gardening with native plants because it is different. But lets face it, much the way organic food has been co-opted by mainstream retail stores, it was only a matter of time before native plants crept in from the fringe. In the interest of good stewardship, we need to embrace this change. Suburbia has come to dominate too much of the landscape, and is far too crowded with foreign plants our native fauna find completely useless. Don't get me wrong, I worry about the way big box garden stores can influence the plant supply. I turn my nose up at cultivars and aspire to use only plants native to my region. However, changes across society are rarely radical, and I strongly believe in taking what you can get. Personally, I'll buy from purist growers, but I'm glad to know that when people ask me where to buy native plants I can now point them to their nearest Lowes' hardware store.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
central NJ grasslands
The first two weeks of June is quite possibly my favorite time to bird in New Jersey. Migration is fun and all, but I love searching for breeding birds. Its like a well studied treasure hunt; you bone up on habitat requirements and ID tips then hit the field hard. You get excellent opportunities for close behavioral observation, and of course, you can always dream of that tantalizing rare find. So when an associate called yesterday to say she had found a Sedge Wren in Somerset County, my coworker Thom and I dropped everything and were out of the door as soon as possible.
The Sedge Wren, a shy denizen of dense, grassy, and (usually) wet meadows, was once much more common in New Jersey than it is now. This species is part of a group of grassland obligate songbirds whose survival in the northeast has long been dependent on agricultural lands. An explosion of pasture farming in central New Jersey in the 19th and 20th centuries allowed these birds to flourish, but recently they have seen severe declines. Once widespread species such as bobolink, grasshopper sparrow, and eastern meadowlark have become only locally common. Other birds; sedge wren, upland sandpiper, henslow's sparrow, and dickcissel to name a few, have become exceedingly rare. The sedge wren itself has less than five known breeding records in the state in the last twenty years.
While it is true that these species existed in the northeast prior to widespread agricultural development, inhabiting natural grasslands in coastal locales like Long Island, by the 20th century their fate had been pinned to regional cattle farming. When local farmers began to dissappear in the 20th century, their tenant birds went with them. New innovations in agro-chemicals and labor saving machines were causing the practice of farming to rapidly industrialize. By the 1970s, 'agriculture' had largely given away to 'agribusiness', and the vast midwest became the undisputed center of our food production, funneling (primarily) corn into a long supply chain that ended in then relatively new supermarkets and fast food chains. Grassland birds were hit from both sides. The midwestern prairie, the stronghold of these and many other obligate species, was giving way to barren cornfields. Gluts of cheap food and fuel were driving rapid expansion out of major population centers, and the farmlands that once separated New York City from Philadelphia gave way to housing developments.
Somerset County lies at the crossroads of New Jersey's former farmland. At the turn of the 20th century, it was a vast expanse of pasture and hayfields, spanning from East Amwell practically to New Brunswick. One can only imagine the birds. Even eighty years later, large blocks of remaining grasslands were incredibly productive. Anyone familiar with the first edition of Bill Boyle's A Guide to Bird Finding in New Jersey surely recalls the entry on Beekman Lane, the Hillsborough road that bordered the eastern edge of the Orchard Road Grasslands Natural Heritage Priority Site. This was a place with an active colony of upland sandpipers, where such rare breeders as Dickcissel and Vesper Sparrow bred annually. Take a drive down Beekman now and all you'll find is Hillsborough Chase, an upscale Toll Brothers development.
Despite the loss of habitat, grasslands in Somerset & Hunterdon Counties continue to host impressive birds, such as this Sedge Wren. The continuing importance of this region for grassland bird conservation has been highlighted by the Raritan Piedmont Wildlife Habitat Partnership, a working group comprised of special interest organizations and local government dedicated to land preservation and stewardship. Some important reserves fall within the RPWHP area, including the highly successful restorations at the Negri Nepote Reserve, Duke Farms, and a large tract of preserved farmland in East Amwell. The goal now is to connect these key areas, largely through grassland restorations on public lands and aiding private landowners with the enrollment process for various federal and state wildlife habitat incentive programs. The property this bird was found on is in the RPWHP area.
From a birder's perspective, it is interesting to note the habitat- dry, upland hayfield. Definitely not what one usually pictures when they think 'Sedge Wren'. My guess is the dense, tall vegetative structure is the real key, and it just so happens this kind of habitat is usually associated with wet meadows. The bird was clearly on territory, though we were unable to confirm breeding. Definitely a great surprise on a balmy early June day! Photo by Thom Almendinger.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Sussex County Big Day
On Saturday May 10th, my girlfriend Amy, two friends, and myself set off at midnight to complete a Sussex County big day. The idea is simple; see as many species of birds as possible in the span of 24 hours. The big day is a decades old tradition among birders, a challenge to your ID skills as well as your endurance (if you've ever sorted through flocks of peeps after being awake for over 30 hours, you know what I mean). I like it because it is ultimately about avian ecology. The best way to see a bird on your big day is to have scouted out breeding birds prior to the event. In order to do that, you must be familiar with the habitat requirements and behavior of dozens of species. From there you can add to your list with migrants, which demands an understanding of how birds move across the landscape of your 'playing field'. All of this requires proper timing; your route must be planned such that it takes advantage of different species' periods of peak activity or you'll turn up empty handed.
We chose Sussex County because of its excellent avian diversity. The fact that we all live here helped too! The ridge and valley region of New Jersey is diverse in its habitat types. Throughout the day we birded in deciduous woodlands, limestone fens, dark Hemlock ravines, agricultural grasslands, and several other ecosystems. We made a valiant effort to stay on birds and keep from getting distracted by plants, though occasionally we couldn't resist. The Sussex County botany big day will be next!
Going in, my slightly overly ambitious goal was 150 species. We fell a bit short of that, but made a great showing with 140. A few bird groups gave us a bit of trouble. Our nights were a bit slow and we missed several nocturnal breeders, probably due to lack of scouting. Scrub/shrub birds also hung us up, and we failed to turn up several species that we had found on territory earlier in the week (Chat, White-eyed Vireo, Golden-winged Warbler..). We also missed several possible migrants; unfavorable weather patterns made us decide to cut planned visits to a couple migrant traps from our route to have more time to search for waterfowl and shorebirds instead. All in all, it was a great day with some really spectacular sightings. Personal hightlights included a spectacular male Cape May Warbler in Layton and several Ovenbirds engaged in courtship behaviors, making an entirely bizarre upslurred vocalization that was almost reminiscent of a Gray-cheeked Thrush. Here is our species list:
Canada Goose
Wood Duck
Mallard
Green Winged Teal
Ring-necked Duck
Common Merganser
Red-breasted Merganser
Ring-necked Pheasant
Ruffed Grouse
Wild Turkey
Common Loon
Pied-billed Grebe
Double-crested Cormorant
Great Blue Heron
Green Heron
Turkey Vulture
Osprey
Bald Eagle
Northern Harrier
Sharp-shinned Hawk
Cooper's Hawk
Northern Goshawk
Red-shouldered Hawk
Broad-winged Hawk
Red-tailed Hawk
American Kestrel
Virginia Rail
Sora
Common Moorhen
Killdeer
Greater Yellowlegs
Lesser Yellowlegs
Solitary Sandpiper
Spotted Sandpiper
Least Sandpiper
Wilson's Snipe
Mourning Dove
Rock Pigeon
Black-billed Cuckoo
Yellow-billed Cuckoo
Barn Owl
Eastern Screech Owl
Great Horned Owl
Barred Owl
Ruby-throated Hummingbird
Belted Kingfisher
Pileated Woodpecker
Red-bellied Woodpecker
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker
Downy Woodpecker
Hairy Woodpecker
Northern Flicker
Acadian Flycatcher
Alder Flycatcher
Least Flycatcher
Eastern Phoebe
Great Crested Flycatcher
Eastern Kingbird
Blue-headed Vireo
Yellow-throated Vireo
Warbling Vireo
Red-eyed Vireo
Purple Martin
Tree Swallow
Northern Rough-winged Swallow
Bank Swallow
Cliff Swallow
Barn Swallow
Blue Jay
American Crow
Common Raven
Black-capped Chickadee
Tufted Titmouse
Red-breasted Nuthatch
White-breasted Nuthatch
Brown Creeper
Carolina Wren
House Wren
Winter Wren
Marsh Wren
Golden-crowned Kinglet
Ruby-crowned Kinglet
Blue-gray Gnatcatcher
Eastern Bluebird
Veery
Hermit Thrush
Wood Thrush
American Robin
Gray Catbird
Northern Mockingbird
Brown Thrasher
European Starling
American Pipit
Cedar Waxwing
Blue-winged Warbler
Northern Parula
Yellow Warbler
Chestnut-sided Warbler
Magnolia Warbler
Cape May Warbler
Black-throated Blue Warbler
Yellow-rumped Warbler
Black-throated Green Warbler
Blackburnian Warbler
Yellow-throated Warbler
Pine Warbler
Prairie Warbler
Blackpoll Warbler
Cerulean Warbler
Black-and-White Warbler
American Redstart
Worm-eating Warbler
Ovenbird
Northern Waterthrush
Louisiana Waterthrush
Common Yellowthroat
Hooded Warbler
Scarlet Tanager
Eastern Towhee
Chipping Sparrow
Field Sparrow
Vesper Sparrow
Savannah Sparrow
Grasshopper Sparrow
Song Sparrow
Swamp Sparrow
White-crowned Sparrow
Northern Cardinal
Rose-breasted Grosbeak
Indigo Bunting
Bobolink
Red-winged Blackbird
Eastern Meadowlark
Common Grackle
Baltimore Oriole
Purple Finch
House Finch
American Goldfinch
House Sparrow
When we do a botany big day, I will NOT be typing out the entire plant list!
We chose Sussex County because of its excellent avian diversity. The fact that we all live here helped too! The ridge and valley region of New Jersey is diverse in its habitat types. Throughout the day we birded in deciduous woodlands, limestone fens, dark Hemlock ravines, agricultural grasslands, and several other ecosystems. We made a valiant effort to stay on birds and keep from getting distracted by plants, though occasionally we couldn't resist. The Sussex County botany big day will be next!
Going in, my slightly overly ambitious goal was 150 species. We fell a bit short of that, but made a great showing with 140. A few bird groups gave us a bit of trouble. Our nights were a bit slow and we missed several nocturnal breeders, probably due to lack of scouting. Scrub/shrub birds also hung us up, and we failed to turn up several species that we had found on territory earlier in the week (Chat, White-eyed Vireo, Golden-winged Warbler..). We also missed several possible migrants; unfavorable weather patterns made us decide to cut planned visits to a couple migrant traps from our route to have more time to search for waterfowl and shorebirds instead. All in all, it was a great day with some really spectacular sightings. Personal hightlights included a spectacular male Cape May Warbler in Layton and several Ovenbirds engaged in courtship behaviors, making an entirely bizarre upslurred vocalization that was almost reminiscent of a Gray-cheeked Thrush. Here is our species list:
Canada Goose
Wood Duck
Mallard
Green Winged Teal
Ring-necked Duck
Common Merganser
Red-breasted Merganser
Ring-necked Pheasant
Ruffed Grouse
Wild Turkey
Common Loon
Pied-billed Grebe
Double-crested Cormorant
Great Blue Heron
Green Heron
Turkey Vulture
Osprey
Bald Eagle
Northern Harrier
Sharp-shinned Hawk
Cooper's Hawk
Northern Goshawk
Red-shouldered Hawk
Broad-winged Hawk
Red-tailed Hawk
American Kestrel
Virginia Rail
Sora
Common Moorhen
Killdeer
Greater Yellowlegs
Lesser Yellowlegs
Solitary Sandpiper
Spotted Sandpiper
Least Sandpiper
Wilson's Snipe
Mourning Dove
Rock Pigeon
Black-billed Cuckoo
Yellow-billed Cuckoo
Barn Owl
Eastern Screech Owl
Great Horned Owl
Barred Owl
Ruby-throated Hummingbird
Belted Kingfisher
Pileated Woodpecker
Red-bellied Woodpecker
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker
Downy Woodpecker
Hairy Woodpecker
Northern Flicker
Acadian Flycatcher
Alder Flycatcher
Least Flycatcher
Eastern Phoebe
Great Crested Flycatcher
Eastern Kingbird
Blue-headed Vireo
Yellow-throated Vireo
Warbling Vireo
Red-eyed Vireo
Purple Martin
Tree Swallow
Northern Rough-winged Swallow
Bank Swallow
Cliff Swallow
Barn Swallow
Blue Jay
American Crow
Common Raven
Black-capped Chickadee
Tufted Titmouse
Red-breasted Nuthatch
White-breasted Nuthatch
Brown Creeper
Carolina Wren
House Wren
Winter Wren
Marsh Wren
Golden-crowned Kinglet
Ruby-crowned Kinglet
Blue-gray Gnatcatcher
Eastern Bluebird
Veery
Hermit Thrush
Wood Thrush
American Robin
Gray Catbird
Northern Mockingbird
Brown Thrasher
European Starling
American Pipit
Cedar Waxwing
Blue-winged Warbler
Northern Parula
Yellow Warbler
Chestnut-sided Warbler
Magnolia Warbler
Cape May Warbler
Black-throated Blue Warbler
Yellow-rumped Warbler
Black-throated Green Warbler
Blackburnian Warbler
Yellow-throated Warbler
Pine Warbler
Prairie Warbler
Blackpoll Warbler
Cerulean Warbler
Black-and-White Warbler
American Redstart
Worm-eating Warbler
Ovenbird
Northern Waterthrush
Louisiana Waterthrush
Common Yellowthroat
Hooded Warbler
Scarlet Tanager
Eastern Towhee
Chipping Sparrow
Field Sparrow
Vesper Sparrow
Savannah Sparrow
Grasshopper Sparrow
Song Sparrow
Swamp Sparrow
White-crowned Sparrow
Northern Cardinal
Rose-breasted Grosbeak
Indigo Bunting
Bobolink
Red-winged Blackbird
Eastern Meadowlark
Common Grackle
Baltimore Oriole
Purple Finch
House Finch
American Goldfinch
House Sparrow
When we do a botany big day, I will NOT be typing out the entire plant list!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Invaders in the Garden
As a committed National Public Radio junkie, I was delighted to here this story on last Thursday's episode of All Things Considered addressing the role of the horticultural industry in the proliferation of invasive plant species. In this case, the plant in question is Lythrum salicaria (Purple Loosestrife), a species that has been wreaking havoc on wetlands in the northeast United States for decades. Yet it is still readily available in many garden centers. Whats more, dozens of other commonly used landscape plants are either known to be invasive already or are waiting in the wings.
There are two prime modes by which invasive plants come to new ground. They can be introduced accidentally, such as with Microstegium vimineum (Japanese Stiltgrass) which arrived as packing material for shipping containers. More commonly they are brought in purposely for use as landscape or garden plants. There is a very good reason for this, or rather there is a very good reason why plants desirable for landscaping so frequently become invasive. Many of the qualities people seek in landscape plants are the very same that make them so excellent at slipping out into natural areas.
The landscape bed is a tough place to live. The soil is heavily disturbed, often coated with mulch or sometimes (I wish I was making this up) shredded tires. Pesticides are used to suppress undesirable plants. Good landscape stock has to tolerate such stresses, and species are selected and bred such that they can. Further, a garden can be anywhere and subject to any number of conditions. Dry, wet, shady, sunny, disturbed by salt, etc....the better a plant can tolerate such stresses the more it will sell.
Such is the story of Berberis thunbergii (Japanese Barberry), a lowly member of the Berberidaceae with little to define it except for a crop of bright red berries and willingness to be pruned into any shape desired without consequence. The secret to this unassuming plant's popularity, to the point where you are hard pressed to find a corporate office landscape display without one, is the fact that it will grow anywhere. You can put one in a five foot diameter island in the middle of a parking lot and completely cover its roots with bright white gravel (another landscape convention I will never understand) and it will do just fine. This uncanny ability for survival is exactly what has allowed it to flourish in New Jersey woodlands. Rising densities of white-tailed deer slowly depleted native shrub layers, and Japanese Barberry moved in to take its place. The deer would not eat it (yet another excellent quality for both a landscape plant and an invasive) and continued targeting dwindling native plant populations. The end result is acres upon acres of woodland where Japanese Barberry is virtually the only species in the shrub layer.
The same scenario has more or less played out for other invasives. The driving factor may not always be herbivory, but the basic issue is always the same; a fundamental alteration of some natural ecosystem process that presents these 'generalist' introduced species with a competitive advantage. If you consider biological invasions from a Darwinian perspective, the notion does not make complete sense. After all, how can an outsider plant out compete a species adapted to live exactly where it is living; fine tuned by millions of years of evolution to fit perfectly into its niche? The answer is simple, through much of the world humans have changed all the rules.
In New Jersey, nearly all of the forest we have is less than one hundred years old. Prior to that, the land on which is stands had been cleared and committed to agriculture. Whats more, these secondary woodlands did not rise to reforest all of the areas on which trees stood prior to human habitation. Instead the state has become a mosaic of woodlands, farm fields, and the lawns and landscape beds of housing developments. Clearly the conditions in these new woodlands were not the same as the old. Drastic changes in soil chemistry, herbivore communities, and landscape composition shattered the native plant's advantage. This is not the forest to which they are adapted and the generalists, most of which are non-native, have been allowed to run wild.
This gets to the heart of the greatest challenge of modern environmental stewardship; how do we foster whole, functioning ecosystems on a landscape that has been so fundamentally altered? There is no single answer to this question, but one issue most of the ecological community agrees is at the forefront in terms of importance is the on-going spread of invasives. The sale of such plants threatens the welfare of our natural areas and renders the hard work of many land managers a losing battle. Lacking good regulation, the best way we can move the horticultural industry in a more earth friendly direction is through education. There are many excellent resources that will help you identify invasives that may be lurking in your garden or at your local plant supplier. I suggest starting with the The Nature Conservancy's Global Invasive Species Team page. Learn what to watch out for and you'll be on your way to being an ecologically responsible gardener!
Here's a few bad ones for NJ that are "under the radar", so to speak. To the best of my knowledge, all of these can be readily purchased and some I've noted are heavily used.
Miscanthus sinensis (Chinese Silvergrass)- This ridiculous looking plant can be found on every other front lawn from Bergen County to Cape May. Though it is not widely naturalized, where it has stepped out of the garden it has shown a disturbing tolerance to a variety of conditions and habitat types (a great trait from a landscape plant, remember?). If you want to see a particularly bad infestation of this stuff, head for Duke Farms in Hillsborough. In the interest of full disclosure, I work at Duke Farms in their Environmental Stewardship department. So make sure you come quick before we eradicate it all.
Ranunculus ficaria (Lesser Celandine, Fig Buttercup)- A delightful little yellow flower that makes great early season groundcover and is capable of completely (and I mean COMPLETELY) dominating a floodplain herb layer. Its rather bizarre life history; the plant is capable of reproducing by seed, tuber, and bauble; allow it to sweep new areas quickly.
Aralia elata (Japanese Angelica Tree)- Personally I don't know why anyone would use this plant in landscaping, unless you're going for the 'JRR Tolkien thorny forests on the slopes of Mordor' effect. It is truly nasty looking stuff. However, it is becoming a larger threat in the Mid-Atlantic Region.
Rhodotypos scandens (Jetbead)- This shrub has been used in American horticulture for decades, but only recently has been identified as an invasive species. Just goes to show you how difficult identifying the potential for a plant as an invasive can be.
Also, if you feel as good about that NPR piece as I do, head over the comments section of NPR's website and write Michele Norris some fan mail. She did decide to pull her Purple Loosestrife out, after all!
There are two prime modes by which invasive plants come to new ground. They can be introduced accidentally, such as with Microstegium vimineum (Japanese Stiltgrass) which arrived as packing material for shipping containers. More commonly they are brought in purposely for use as landscape or garden plants. There is a very good reason for this, or rather there is a very good reason why plants desirable for landscaping so frequently become invasive. Many of the qualities people seek in landscape plants are the very same that make them so excellent at slipping out into natural areas.
The landscape bed is a tough place to live. The soil is heavily disturbed, often coated with mulch or sometimes (I wish I was making this up) shredded tires. Pesticides are used to suppress undesirable plants. Good landscape stock has to tolerate such stresses, and species are selected and bred such that they can. Further, a garden can be anywhere and subject to any number of conditions. Dry, wet, shady, sunny, disturbed by salt, etc....the better a plant can tolerate such stresses the more it will sell.
Such is the story of Berberis thunbergii (Japanese Barberry), a lowly member of the Berberidaceae with little to define it except for a crop of bright red berries and willingness to be pruned into any shape desired without consequence. The secret to this unassuming plant's popularity, to the point where you are hard pressed to find a corporate office landscape display without one, is the fact that it will grow anywhere. You can put one in a five foot diameter island in the middle of a parking lot and completely cover its roots with bright white gravel (another landscape convention I will never understand) and it will do just fine. This uncanny ability for survival is exactly what has allowed it to flourish in New Jersey woodlands. Rising densities of white-tailed deer slowly depleted native shrub layers, and Japanese Barberry moved in to take its place. The deer would not eat it (yet another excellent quality for both a landscape plant and an invasive) and continued targeting dwindling native plant populations. The end result is acres upon acres of woodland where Japanese Barberry is virtually the only species in the shrub layer.
The same scenario has more or less played out for other invasives. The driving factor may not always be herbivory, but the basic issue is always the same; a fundamental alteration of some natural ecosystem process that presents these 'generalist' introduced species with a competitive advantage. If you consider biological invasions from a Darwinian perspective, the notion does not make complete sense. After all, how can an outsider plant out compete a species adapted to live exactly where it is living; fine tuned by millions of years of evolution to fit perfectly into its niche? The answer is simple, through much of the world humans have changed all the rules.
In New Jersey, nearly all of the forest we have is less than one hundred years old. Prior to that, the land on which is stands had been cleared and committed to agriculture. Whats more, these secondary woodlands did not rise to reforest all of the areas on which trees stood prior to human habitation. Instead the state has become a mosaic of woodlands, farm fields, and the lawns and landscape beds of housing developments. Clearly the conditions in these new woodlands were not the same as the old. Drastic changes in soil chemistry, herbivore communities, and landscape composition shattered the native plant's advantage. This is not the forest to which they are adapted and the generalists, most of which are non-native, have been allowed to run wild.
This gets to the heart of the greatest challenge of modern environmental stewardship; how do we foster whole, functioning ecosystems on a landscape that has been so fundamentally altered? There is no single answer to this question, but one issue most of the ecological community agrees is at the forefront in terms of importance is the on-going spread of invasives. The sale of such plants threatens the welfare of our natural areas and renders the hard work of many land managers a losing battle. Lacking good regulation, the best way we can move the horticultural industry in a more earth friendly direction is through education. There are many excellent resources that will help you identify invasives that may be lurking in your garden or at your local plant supplier. I suggest starting with the The Nature Conservancy's Global Invasive Species Team page. Learn what to watch out for and you'll be on your way to being an ecologically responsible gardener!
Here's a few bad ones for NJ that are "under the radar", so to speak. To the best of my knowledge, all of these can be readily purchased and some I've noted are heavily used.
Miscanthus sinensis (Chinese Silvergrass)- This ridiculous looking plant can be found on every other front lawn from Bergen County to Cape May. Though it is not widely naturalized, where it has stepped out of the garden it has shown a disturbing tolerance to a variety of conditions and habitat types (a great trait from a landscape plant, remember?). If you want to see a particularly bad infestation of this stuff, head for Duke Farms in Hillsborough. In the interest of full disclosure, I work at Duke Farms in their Environmental Stewardship department. So make sure you come quick before we eradicate it all.
Ranunculus ficaria (Lesser Celandine, Fig Buttercup)- A delightful little yellow flower that makes great early season groundcover and is capable of completely (and I mean COMPLETELY) dominating a floodplain herb layer. Its rather bizarre life history; the plant is capable of reproducing by seed, tuber, and bauble; allow it to sweep new areas quickly.
Aralia elata (Japanese Angelica Tree)- Personally I don't know why anyone would use this plant in landscaping, unless you're going for the 'JRR Tolkien thorny forests on the slopes of Mordor' effect. It is truly nasty looking stuff. However, it is becoming a larger threat in the Mid-Atlantic Region.
Rhodotypos scandens (Jetbead)- This shrub has been used in American horticulture for decades, but only recently has been identified as an invasive species. Just goes to show you how difficult identifying the potential for a plant as an invasive can be.
Also, if you feel as good about that NPR piece as I do, head over the comments section of NPR's website and write Michele Norris some fan mail. She did decide to pull her Purple Loosestrife out, after all!
Monday, March 31, 2008
slow birding
Several weekends ago, I was birding at the Paulinskill Wildlife Management Area, a favorite local spot of mine. I had just parked my truck and stood alongside the road, hands in my pockets, listening. At first nothing...it was dead quiet in contrast to the din of car engine and radio I was lost in moments ago. Then slowly dead silence resolved into quiet babble. There was the high, sharp notes of titmice overhead. The short, agitated clucks of a nuthatch came from off to my left. The thin, wispy calls of Cedar Waxings drifted across the breeze. A cacophony of urgent chip notes gave away my quarry, a feeding flock of sparrows.Grassy alleys wove in among dense shrub thickets, primarily of Multifloral Rose and Japanese Honeysuckle. Dozens of sparrows scratched about on the ground, producing a soft, constant rustle as if someone was ceaselessly crinkling a paper bag in their hands. Quick, furtive movements could be seen throughout the underbrush. There was a brief flash of rufous. A fox sparrow perhaps? I brought my hands out of pockets and held my binoculars lightly, preparing to scan. I took a deep breath and I pished.
For the unintiated, 'pishing' is a catch-all term for the battery of noises meant to drive birds completely crazy and make birders look completely ridiculous. It includes exaggerated shushing sounds, kissy face squeaks, and sharp chips produced by sucking on the back of your hand. All are meant to emulate noises birds make when they are agitated, such as when a predator approaches. Think of it as the universal bird code to say, 'Stop and pay attention, trouble is near!!!'. It is a wonderful piece of interspecific adaptation. One alarm call and everybody in the area, from kinglets to jays, is on high alert.
Birds are incredibly curious creatures. They are not often content to simply know that danger is afoot. They want to see what exactly is going on. When pishing, birders use this curiosity to their advantage, luring skulky individuals out into the open and gaining clear, identifiable looks. This is precisely what happened when I pished at these sparrows. Almost immediately the rustling ceased and several hopped up to the highest branches of the shrubs in which they fed. I scanned fast; a dozen or so Song Sparrows and several White Throated Sparrows regarded me back. One close individual gave me what I can only imagine is the avian version of a withering glance and the birds vanished into the brush. The ensuing silence was perforated only by a single titmouse who was not so quick to deem that I was no threat and hopped nervously along a branch just eight feet above my head, scolding me in threes.
Such is pishing; effective yet fleeting. Before long, birds will recognize a false alarm and vanish once again. Using this approach, your success relies on your ability to sort through and quickly identify individuals. Not surprisingly it can be vexing for beginners, or for someone who is in a new locale where they do not know the avifauna well. It also makes it difficult, if not impossible, to observe behavior. You see birds in only one state, highly agitated, and I can assure you that will be any species at its least interesting.
Awhile later I was standing a bit downslope, having followed the flock of sparrows into a sunny glade. This time I made no noise and I stood as still as was comfortable. As before dozens of birds flitted among the bushes. My eyes chased brown flashes in and out of shadows, but I let my binoculars hang motionless around my neck and I waited. Ten or more minutes had elapsed before the first intrepid bird hopped out of cover to forage in the grass, an especially brawny looking Song Sparrow. This bird was joined by others; first more song sparrows, then white throateds, and a single field. Several more minutes passed and a fox sparrow, an especially shy species, emerged from the depths of a nearby rose tangle. By now many birds were feeding out in the open, indifferent to my presence. I stood transfixed, not focusing on any single bird, but taking in the entire scene all at once. The spell was broken when a fox, unaware of my presence, came trotting along her trail and approached within ten feet of me before realizing the error. We both started and she turned and ran back from where we came. Immediately the air was filled with alarm calls and the sparrows that had been feeding in my midst vanished once again.
When I go out into the field, I pay close attention to my mood. Wild creatures are highly acute. They have to be; if you are not constantly aware you get eaten or conversely, miss your chance to eat. Nervousness, anxiety, frustration...these are all states of being that a bird will be able to sense even in the slightest. They are also conditions we frequently cope with in our busy, modern society. When we try to go from our world into nature without letting these emotions go, we see very little. Animals flee from us, so we resort to pishing. Instead of taking the time to fall into rhythm with the birds' world, we spread our own agitation around to draw them out. In the end we not only distract birds from their typical behavior, we miss an opportunity for more acute observation.
Here are a few guidelines if you wish to try such an exercise yourself. It really is pretty simple stuff. I will be the first to admit that I am FAR from an expert woodsman yet the difference "slow birding" made in my second encounter with the sparrows is striking.
- Before you go out, take a deep breath. Try and push your human world concerns aside. Relax, quiet your mind, and open up your senses. This is your time to interact with nature, don't spoil it by fretting over grocery shopping or whatever else!
- Go slow. We have all experienced the jolt of excitement when we come across a large concentration of birds. Immediately your mind is tearing around at one hundred miles an hour and you're frantically trying to determine where to look first. Don't fall into this trap! Move slowly, a wild animal will associate quick jerky movements and an excited temperament with danger and be gone before you have time to raise your binoculars. Trust in the fact that if you provide no disturbance, birds will have no reason to defer from feeding or whatever else they're up to.
- Familiarize yourself with bird language. By this I do not mean the identification of birds by ear (although that is helpful as well, see below). Listen to the calls you hear and pay attention to the mood. An annoyed bird is just as easily identifiable as an annoyed person. If the birds in your vicinity are excited, its probably time to stand quietly and wait.
- Minimize binocular use. The best way to freak a bird out is to put a pair of three inch wide, shiny eyes on it. Try to practice identifying birds without using your binoculars at all. You'll be surprised at how close some individuals will get if you're still and quiet. Knowing a variety of call notes is also very helpful. If you're looking through a flock of warblers consisting of some two hundred Yellow Rumps with maybe a few different species mixed in, knowing a rump call note will allow you to key in on something that sounds different. Concentrate on learning the species you most commonly encounter first, both by voice and by unaided sight. Reserve the binoculars for something that seems unusual.
- Stand still. Wilderness educator and bird language guru Jon Young says you must be still and quiet for 15 minutes before birds will become acclimated to your presence. Who knows what you might see then! Birds are rich in behavior, there is always something new and fascinating to learn about even the most common species. Such a practice will also sharpen your ID skills by forcing you to pay attention to detail. Such careful observation feeds directly into your "search image" for a particular creature. This is another instinctive behavior birders use, whether one realizes it or not. Maximize your search potential by observing birds in all states.
Lycopodium digitatum A. Br., Bashakill WMA
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