Winter Bliss

Posted on January 12, 2019 by roadsendnaturalist

When you leave a beautiful place, you carry it with you wherever you go.

~Alexandra Stoddard

I certainly carry certain places with me. And moments in those places have a way of adhering to my memory, reappearing when my mind wanders to sights and sounds of their wildness, their beauty, their mystery. And I now need these places and these memories even more. The beauty of nature has a way of helping us cope with the confounding issues of our times and gives us hope. One such place for me is what I usually simply call “Pungo”. Its official name is the Pungo Unit of Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge. I managed another trip last weekend, heading down after a program at work on Saturday, and meeting friends from work Sunday morning.

Flock of blackbirds swimming through the sky above a corn field (click photos to enlarge)

I arrived fairly late in the day on Saturday and went straight to North Lake Road. Flocks of blackbirds (mainly red-winged blackbirds and common grackles) were flying back and forth from the corn field to the trees, twittering as they flew in wave-like patterns in response to aerial predators (real or imagined) or some other cues. I ran into some friends and we had a nice flyover of snow geese that couldn’t make up their minds where to go. Melissa was down last weekend also, leading a Museum trip, and I found that group on the way out. We parked and watched swans returning to the refuge for the night along with the swarms of ducks (called ducknados by a young observer a couple of years ago) flying into the corn fields from the adjacent swamp.

The quiet beauty of a sunrise at Pungo

The next morning found me sitting in the quiet of a Pungo sunrise with the soft cooing sounds of swans. There is something magical about sunrises, the way they slowly change the landscape – the silence, the peacefulness.

Morning clouds over Pungo Lake from Duck Pen blind

I decided to walk down to the Duck Pen observation blind hoping to see some swans in close. Instead, I was treated to a beautiful sky over the calm waters. A long swooshing sound turned out to be an approaching flock of red-winged blackbirds undulating westward to the corn fields.

The elegant moves of a Tundra Swan preening

As the sun rose above the trees, I headed back to the impoundment known as Marsh A to spend some quiet time with the majestic swans. These birds are simply feathered elegance. The low angle of morning light produces sharp lines and highlights the gentle curves of these beautiful birds. They spend a lot of time preening their 25,000 feathers…

They look good even with a little feather stuck on their bill

…and occasionally get one stuck on their bill (probably the equivalent of that piece of lettuce that your friend tries to tell you is stuck in your teeth). I truly enjoy spending time with the swans. But, my friends were going to arrive soon, so I decided to drive around and get a few pictures of other birds (or whatever I could find) while the light was so nice.

A Swamp Sparrow feeding along the edge of a canal

I drove slowly along the canal edges looking for brushy spots that often harbor a variety of small birds. The usually secretive swamp sparrows were feeding out in the open along the edge of the water. If you take the time to look at sparrows, they really are elegant little birds, each species with a distinct personality and a blend of subtle colors and patterns.

Savannah Sparrows along the edge of a field

As I drove along the field edges, groups of Savannah Sparrows flitted up from the corn stubble and grasses into the shrubs and trees lining the canals. I appreciated a chance to view them against the sky rather than camouflaged in the grasses.

Bright skies and warm temperatures made for a good day for vultures

The calm winds and clear skies made for a good vulture day. There are a few large turkey vulture roosts along the road edges at Pungo, so it is common to see them perched in snags along the roadsides in the morning, waiting for the warmth of the day to create thermals for their efficient flight. One member of the pair above demonstrated a common vulture behavior – the spread wing posture. This is often seen early in the day as birds try to warm up or dry their feathers after a damp night.

A Turkey Vulture close-up

One vulture allowed me to drive up closer than most, so I was able to get a few portrait shots (maybe not your dream photo, but they are interesting nonetheless). There is a stark beauty in their ugliness, a lot of detail and character in their wrinkled faces. Adult turkey vultures have reddish skin (juveniles have blackish-gray skin) and an ivory bill. You can also see their huge nostrils (nares) which help them have one of the keenest senses of smell in the bird world. They also have a larger olfactory lobe in their brain compared to other species so they are well-equipped to detect dead animals as they soar above the landscape. As I drove along D-canal road, I spotted a few vultures squabbling over a duck or goose carcass in the private fields across the canal. As I watched, they suddenly took flight, along with a great blue heron that had been stalking prey in the nearby drainage ditch.

As I watched the carcass, a Great Blue Heron flew by in a hurry

The heron flew in an arc from one field to another across the road, squawking as it went. I turned and saw the reason for all this commotion…

The reason the heron took flight

…an adult bald eagle had flown into the trees behind me, no doubt alerted to the possibility of a meal by the gathering vultures. Though I waited patiently for 30 minutes, the cautious eagle maintained its perch, waiting for me to move on, which I finally did. When my friends arrived, we piled into one car and continued searching for wildlife. Our first stop was to view the swans. Warm days seem to make the wildlife lazy, content to hang out longer, making some species a bit tougher to find.

Painted Turtle basking in Marsh A

But lazy winter days also make some species, like turtles, easier to see. As we drove along, there were turtles (mainly a mix of painted turtles and yellow-bellied sliders) basking on almost every log. That made me both wary and excited as we entered the woods, for this is the kind of day you might see a snake, especially “my snake”. I had stumbled upon the large canebrake rattlesnake again last weekend during the Christmas Bird Count at the same hollow tree as 3 years ago. We hiked slowly to the tree, looking carefully around the surroundings in case the rattler was out enjoying the warmth. After looking all around the area without spotting it, I knelt down and shined my flashlight into the hollow – no snake. I moved to the right, and shined the light in the other hollow – nothing. Suddenly, my eye caught a familiar pattern…there it was, a few feet from me, curled up at the entrance, partially hidden behind the grass and vines that now block part of the hollow.

Even after we knew where it was, the snake was tough to see (photo by Janna Starr)

I seem to have a strange affinity (and partial blindness, apparently) for this snake. The others in my group couldn’t see it at first, and then, one by one, they spotted it.

Canebrake rattlesnake at entrance to den tree

Holding the camera high allowed a better view

We all jockeyed positions to get a better angle to view the snake which was partially obscured by the vegetation in front of the hole. This rattler (it probably is the same one from previous encounters at this tree) has not lived up to its name, having never rattled in any of my encounters with it over the past few years. I must admit, I wouldn’t mind a little noise the next time we meet.

The telephoto view from the side

Even with all the commotion from its admiring crowd, the rattlesnake remained still, no doubt confident of its ability to defend itself from this group of interlopers. We wandered on, wishing it well until we meet again.

The last scene of the day – the magic of snow geese overhead

We headed back out to the road, hoping for a flyover of birds from the lake. The evening before, the snow geese had flown out and around a few times, but not landed. As we walked back to the car, we heard them coming. We paused as they flew over toward the far corner of the corn field. At first, a few hundred. That flock went back to the lake and returned with a few thousand. More joined the flock as they began to circle the fields. Some would spin off toward the lake, but more kept coming in, until perhaps they felt they had enough critical mass to make a decision – to land in the field. They finally started to drop down into the corn and thousands more birds came in from the lake to join the circling mass. Finally, several thousand birds were feeding in the corn. After what seemed like a very brief meal (considering all the energy they burned flying around beforehand), they all lifted off and headed back to the refuge of the lake. There is nothing like this anywhere else in North Carolina (or anywhere else in the East for that matter)…thousands of birds filling the sky, golden light tinging their undersides as they noisily fly over you. The true meaning of spectacle, and the reason I keep returning to Pungo.

Another Count, Another Great Day at Pungo

Posted on December 31, 2018 by roadsendnaturalist

Conservation is a cause that has no end. There is no point at which we say, “Our work is finished…”

~Rachel Carson

Saturday was our chance to participate in the 119th annual Audubon Christmas Bird Count. We did it, as we have for many years, at the Pettigrew Christmas Count centered on Lake Phelps in Pettigrew State Park. I helped start this count back in 1985 with the park superintendent and one of my favorite naturalists, Paris Trail. For those that may not know, the idea of a Christmas Bird Count was created in 1900 as an alternative to the then common practice of Christmas bird shoot contests, where people would go out and shoot as many birds as possible. Conservationists worried that this trend was harming bird populations, so they came up with the idea of going out and seeing how many birds you could see in one day as a way to foster appreciation of our incredible bird neighbors. To learn more about the history of the Count and how the data is being used, check out Audubon Christmas Bird Count. For this count, we were joined by our good friend, Scott, and his cousin’s family. As always, we cover the section of the count circle that includes my favorite spot in North Carolina, the Pungo Unit of Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge. The heavy rains squashed our plans to camp at Pettigrew for a few days around the count, so we left our home at 4 a.m. Saturday for the trip down to try to beat the sunrise.

Huge black bear ambling away from the corn field before sunrise (click photos to enlarge)

We were greeted, as often happens at Pungo, with a huge bear leaving his dinner table in the corn fields at the entrance to the refuge. He was one of the big boys, probably weighing in at over 500 pounds. We met the rest of the group at the observation platform where thousands of swans were scattered across the lake in the pre-dawn gray. Our next stop was the impoundment known as Marsh A, where the tundra swans luckily like to congregate within range of most telephoto lenses.

Tundra swans in early morning light

Almost every move a tundra swan makes is made with grace, especially the wing flap

By mid-morning, swans were leaving the lake in droves, headed for their feeding fields

After spending some time with the swans, we headed on and soon found a beautiful bufflehead and her reflection swimming along in a roadside canal.

A female bufflehead swimming in one of the roadside canals

The warm temperatures made for a slow birding day so we stepped up our efforts to find a diversity of songbirds by walking and driving slowly near brushy spots along the miles of dirt roads in the Pungo Unit.

This beautiful field sparrow paused for a portrait

Clutching a treetop twig, this Eastern phoebe bobbed in the wind while checking out our group

Our guests spotted this furry pile of nutria babies at a den entrance across the canal

We succeeded in a few locations and got good looks at several species. We moved on to scan some of the crop fields for shorebirds and other species that like these huge open spaces. We were also hoping to see a trumpeter swan or the sandhill cranes that had been reported in the area.

Three sandhill cranes feeding with a group of tundra swans

At one area in a harvested soybean field, a group of 50 or so tundra swans were resting and feeding. As we scanned, we all simultaneously noticed the grayish bodies of three sandhill cranes mixed in with swans. Success!

Female northern bobwhite trying to sneak away to cover

As we left that area, we spotted some quail moving along the edge of the canal bank. When we stopped, they dashed under the overhanging grasses, climbed the hill under their vegetative cover, and finally popped out on the top edge of the canal and scurried to safety in the corn stubble.

One of two butterfly species observed on pour Christmas Bird Count

The warm temperatures (about 70 degrees) made for a pleasant day for us humans, but I think it may have curtailed some of the usual winter activity we see in the birds and other animals. On the plus side, we saw a lot of turtles out basking, had two species of butterflies (a sleepy orange and a cloudless sulphur), a green darner dragonfly, an anole, and an even bigger warm-weather surprise later in the day.

Immature tundra swan seen from Duck Pen blind

The hike down to the Duck Pen observation blind yielded a few new songbird species, several river otter scat piles, and great views of tundra swans from the blind.

Eastern screech owl gray phase in duck box

A sleepy gray phase Eastern screech owl at the entrance to a wood duck box

At each stop we added a new species or two to our list. As we drove along one stretch, Melissa spotted an owl peering out of one of the wood duck boxes. We all got out and enjoyed a close-up look through the spotting scope. The little fellow didn’t seem to mind the paparazzi oohing and aahing every time it even slightly opened one eye. It seemed to quickly drift back asleep to enjoy its owl dreams.

Our afternoon ended with a walk down North Lake Road. There were the usual couple of photographers set up near the gate in hopes of catching a bear crossing over into the corn. We walked beyond them and down into the woods to try for some of the many songbirds we were still missing. It is also a great place to see a raccoon sleeping in a tree or a bear walking down one of the many well-worn paths, so we quietly walked through the understory of pawpaw with high hopes for something exciting…and we found more than we could have imagined.

A surprise waiting inside the base of a large tulip poplar (photo by Melissa Dowland)

As we walked, one of our guests let out a sharp whistle. When I looked over, I saw him pointing to what I assumed was a bear out in the woods. As I walked over to him, I could see he was pointing at a tree close by, and not at some distant object. He whispered, there’s bear in that tree. I think I said something profound like, that tree right there?, pointing to one just a few feet away. Indeed, as he had walked up to look into the hollow base of this large tree, a bear had lifted its head and looked back at him. He backed off (perhaps with a sense of urgency and surprise) and the bear laid back down. I maneuvered around to face the hollow and at first could just barely make out the dark shape inside as the bear had its head tucked, so all you saw was black fur inside a black tree hollow. But at one point, the bear raised its head just a bit and you could make out the brown color of its nose. I have looked inside this type of hollow for years and, other than having one bear bolt out of a tree well before we got too close, have found only bear sign and the occasional sleeping raccoon or opossum. This experience will certainly be on the highlight reel of my brain for years. We walked away leaving our bear to his cozy bed. But, the surprises were not over yet…

A look inside the hollow base reveals a partial view of the rattlesnake (photo by Scott Hartley)

Not far from from the bear tree, we eased up to another tree where I had a special encounter three years ago. I was telling one of our guests about that incident as I slowly approached another tree with a hollow base, when, suddenly, a huge canebrake rattlesnake flung itself toward the tree and disappeared into the hollow. I had been scrutinizing this particular hollow as this was the same tree where I had encountered a rattlesnake on a day in January, 2016. But this time, the snake was several feet outside the hole, and, I must admit, it startled me with its quick retreat back into the safety of the tree. I had left my phone back in the car, so Scott was kind enough to get a photo where you could at least see part of the snake inside the hollow. This is pretty remarkable if this is the same snake from 3 years ago (and I think there is a good chance it is, since research has shown snakes are often quite faithful to their overwintering sites). This place never ceases to amaze me.

Great horned owl at sunset in cherry tree broken by bears

Great horned owl calling from a perch at sunset

The walk back to our cars was classic Pungo – we could hear swans calling on the lake, a few scattered flocks flying in from the north, a bald eagle flying out over the fields, and bears starting to move from the protective cover of the forest edges to their evening meal in the corn. Closer to the cars, we heard, and then saw, a great horned owl, silhouetted against the sky. A perfect ending to a great walk. One thing of interest about the owl photo – the tree top has a lot of broken branches in it. This is a wild cherry tree, and, though it looks like storm damage, it is actually where black bears have broken the branches to get to the cherry fruit. Every cherry tree along this road edge has broken branches like this where foraging bears have climbed the tree and pulled down the smaller twig tips to gorge on the ripe cherries.

As we drove out of the refuge, we pulled over and got out for one more experience that only Pungo offers, the return of thousand of swans from their feeding fields to the safety of the refuge waters. The video quality is poor because of the low light, but, trust me, the sights and sounds of Pungo will leave a lasting impression on you. Experiences like this help create an understanding of and appreciation for the importance of public lands like this for both the wildlife they support, and for our own well-being and peace of mind. I urge everyone to support these special places and the people that work so hard to protect them for our future.

One last surprise came with the seemingly endless waves of swans flying overhead. As one group passed, I heard the unmistakable honking sound of a trumpeter swan mixed in with the chorus of tundra swans (unfortunately, I was not recording at the time). I photographed a couple of trumpeters on our visit back in November, and, though we had tried hard to find them earlier in the day with no success, the final bird of the day was a special one. Below is the list of species we saw in our part of the count circle from about 7 a.m. until 5:30 p.m. I saw on social media that elsewhere in the count area. friends got a very special bird, a Western tanager. I can’t wait to see our totals for the entire circle. Indeed, another count, another good day out in the field.

Species	Number Observed
Snow Goose	30000
Ross’s Goose	1
Canada Goose	40
Trumpeter Swan	1 (heard)
Tundra Swan	25000
Wood Duck	28
Northern Shoveler	35
Gadwall	17
American Wigeon	7
Mallard	30
Black Duck	7
Northern Pintail	7
Green-winged Teal	20
Ring-necked Duck	30
Bufflehead	4
Hooded Merganser	1
Ruddy Duck	27
Northern Bobwhite	11
Wild Turkey	28
Mourning Dove	43
Sandhill Crane	3
Killdeer	142
American Woodcock	3
Ring-billed Gull	73
Great Blue Heron	5
Turkey Vulture	64
Northern Harrier	12
Sharp-shinned Hawk	2
Cooper’s Hawk	1
Bald Eagle	6
Red-shouldered Hawk	1
Red-tailed Hawk	4
Eastern Screech-Owl	3
Great Horned Owl	2
Belted Kingfisher	2
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker	5
Red-bellied Woodpecker	7
Downy Woodpecker	11
Hairy Woodpecker	1
Pileated Woodpecker	4
Northern Flicker	3
American Kestrel	3
Merlin	1
Eastern Phoebe	9
Blue-headed Vireo	4
Blue Jay	1
American Crow	37
Tree Swallow	6
Carolina Chickadee	14
Tufted Titmouse	5
Brown Creeper	2
House Wren	2
Carolina Wren	6
Ruby-crowned Kinglet	6
Eastern Bluebird	13
American Robin	220
Gray Catbird	3
Brown Thrasher	1
Northern Mockingbird	1
European Starling	97
American Pipit	4
American Goldfinch	4
Chipping Sparrow	12
Field Sparrow	1
Fox Sparrow	4
White-throated Sparrow	84
Savannah Sparrow	20
Song Sparrow	12
Swamp Sparrow	6
Eastern Towhee	4
Red-winged Blackbird	3000
Common Grackle	37
Pine Warbler	7
Yellow-rumped Warbler	21
Northern Cardinal	6

They’re Baaaaack

Posted on November 16, 2018 by roadsendnaturalist

The homing instinct in birds and animals is one of their most remarkable traits: their strong local attachments and their skill in finding their way back…It seems at times as if they possessed some extra sense—the home sense—which operates unerringly.

~John Burroughs, 1905

Last weekend we managed to escape for a couple of days and head down to our favorite spot, the Pungo Unit of Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge. My friend, Michael, had been sharing images of the many bears he was seeing feeding in the cornfields on the refuge, and it finally got to me, I had to get down there! We were met at the refuge by some new friends that understand the power and beauty of wild places and the creatures that call them home. Though seeing bears was the goal, we were all open to whatever the refuge cared to share, so we were delighted to find the first swans of the season already on the lake.

Tundra swans have returned from their Arctic breeding grounds to spend the winter in NC (click photos to enlarge)

When we drove up to the impoundment known as Marsh A, there they were, hundreds of graceful white forms, filling the crisp air with their mellow sounds. We stopped, watched them for several minutes, quietly taking it all in and appreciating the fact that these birds had just completed an amazing journey of 3000 miles or more to spend the winter here. It is reassuring that these natural rhythms continue, that the natural world has some order to it, even when much of what we hear on the news does not.

Large bear tracks (plus another creature…do you see it?)

On to “Bear Road” where we saw several people parked at the gate and sitting along the road waiting for an appearance by one of the area’s many resident bruins. The tracks in the hardened mud tell the story…frequent comings and goings from the dense woods to the local feed store, the cornfield across the road and canal.

A busy bear crossing

With a small crowd of photographers hanging out near one of the main bear crossings, we decided to walk on down the road, away from the chatter, and experience a little quieter part of the scene. Quiet, except for the sounds of swans and Canada geese coming from the lake a short distance through the woods. We soon saw our first of many bears across the open field at the edge of a patch of woods.

Most of our views were distant

This would be our fate for this day of woods-walking and refuge road exploration – a total of 19 bears, all seen at a considerable distance. We did find three in a large tree, two resting and one playfully climbing up and down. But most were headed to or from a cornfield, stocking up before the bitter cold of winter might cause them to go into hibernation (perhaps an abbreviated one that is more typical of bears in the Coastal Plain). We also witnessed some bad human behavior of people trying to get just the right photo and causing a bear to alter its choice of pathways (it is always best for the human to give way and let the bear go where it wants). The day ended with a great horned owl calling against a flame orange sunset through the black branches of tree silhouettes…another beautiful Pungo day coming to a close.

One of my favorite things in the flat lands of Eastern NC – a large-scale sunrise

Our friends departed for home and we drove to our campsite at “nearby” Pettigrew State Park. We could hear swans flying over us to the lake all night indicating they are just arriving from their long journey. We spoke with people that had seen almost no swans two days before so it seems we were lucky enough to be there with the first wave of winter arrivals. We were awakened by some noisy campers at a ridiculously early hour, so we were out at sunrise, headed back to Pungo. The big sky of these flat lands is always a highlight at sunrise and sunset, especially in the crisp air of cold weather.

Injured wood duck along a canal bank

A few flocks of ducks were mixed in with the swans, whose numbers grew to a few thousand by Monday morning. It is not unusual to see wood ducks in the canals along refuge roads as they flush in front of your car and zip through the trees. It is unusual to see one stay put after you spot it. I caught a glimpse of a stunning drake as I drove past it, so I stopped and backed up, fully expecting it to dart away (it seems no creature will tolerate a car that is backing up). One glance at its awkward posture and you could tell something was wrong. It shuffled up the bank a little when I stopped for a photo, so we drove on, sorry to see this beautiful bird in such a state, but knowing that some predator will probably get a meal.

Eastern phoebe on sign

Driving over to Bear Road, we encountered another group of photographers hanging out, waiting for bears. There was also a phoebe debating the true meaning of a road sign…surely this doesn’t apply to me (I have seen many human visitors debating that same thing, unfortunately). So, we drove back over to Marsh A to fix our breakfast and to spend time watching the swans greet the day.

Trumpeter swan honking as it comes in for a landing

It wasn’t long until we heard a sound very different from the coos, whistles, and hoots of the tundra swans – the distinctive horn sound of a trumpeter swan. This is the swan species we see in Yellowstone (although less frequently in recent years) and are seeing now more regularly each winter here in NC. The past few years have brought a few of the larger trumpeters to Pungo and Mattamuskeet. The characteristic calls are by far the easiest way to locate a trumpeter in a sea of look-alike tundra swans. If they are standing next to each other, you can tell a trumpeter is larger, and, in this case, the call was coming from a flying bird, and we soon spotted it flying with a group of tundras. In flight, it is possible to see a size difference, but I don’t think I would really notice it unless I heard the call and was looking for it. Another clue to separate them is the head – look closely at the two photos of swans in flight. Trumpeter swans have a long, straight bill. The inner edge of the bill forms a rather straight line up to the eye, encompassing the eye so that it is difficult to separate from the black bill. The eye of tundra swans is more distinct as a circle separated from the bill. Plus, the inner bill line comes off the eye, and then drops downward. Most tundras also have a yellow spot on the bill below the eye, trumpeters do not. And a trumpeter has “red lipstick” along the inner edge of its black bill. After looking at the birds circling us and then comparing images, I think there were at least three trumpeter swans in the group, two immatures and the adult shown here. I hope we can spot them on the Christmas Bird Count next month! To learn more, check out this link for some of the ways to distinguish these species.

Pair of tundra swans – compare the outline of their bills to photo above

We ended our trip just after lunch, with only 3 bear sightings for Monday, but plenty of memories to last until we get back in a few weeks. I really do love this time of year!

Pausing

Posted on November 4, 2018 by roadsendnaturalist

Something precious is lost if we rush headlong into the details of life without pausing for a moment to pay homage to the mystery of life and the gift of another day.

~ Kent Nerburn

As usual, it has been another busy week – catching up on rescheduled programs (due to our incredibly rainy fall), getting up wood from trees that came down in recent storms, and just living life. But, working where I do, there is always something that can make me pause and relish the moment, help me appreciate the beauty and mystery of my surroundings, and remind me of why I do what I do. Here are a few of those things from this past week…

Cope's gray treefrog juvenile, slightly larger individual

Cope’s Gray Treefrog, juvenile (click photos to enlarge)

We had a late season breeding of Cope’s Gray Treefrogs in our vernal pool and it seems the juveniles are everywhere in the garden right now. This one was hanging out in our daily plant sale area clinging to some flower pots.

Green Lynx Spider

This female Green Lynx Spider has lost one leg while guarding her egg sac (even though it hatched in early October). Unlike most of the late season lynx spiders I have seen, this one is still bright green (most turn a maroon-ish brown). But her egg sac was nestled in a group of hooded pitcher plants, which are still very green. I wonder if this species can alter their color late in the year to better match the egg sac surroundings?

Green Treefrog

A co-worker alerted me to this chillin’ Green Treefrog, who stayed calm throughout its brief photo shoot, in spite of me manipulating its leaf bed for a better angle.

Don’t bother me

Carolina Anole

Most of the anoles I am seeing now are brown in color (color change is dependent on temperatures and hormones of the lizard), but this little guy was out in full sun and still bright green.

Variegated Fritillary chrysalis

Next to a passionflower tangle are a couple of chrysalids of two species of fritillary that use that vine as their caterpillar host plant. It is a bit ironic that the plainer of the two species (as an adult), the Variegated Fritillary, has a chrysalis that is much more striking than that of the beautiful Gulf Fritillary.

Gulf Fritillary chrysalis

I am not sure whether Gulf Fritillaries overwinter as a chrysalis this far inland as they are a partial migratory species from further south and along our southeastern Coastal Plain. So, I was curious what this chrysalis would do. I watched it for a several days and was surprised how it changed position by twisting and turning, and then holding that new position for hours. It finally emerged on Friday.

Freshly emerged Gulf Fritillary

Black swallowtail larva, early instar

One of the biggest surprises for me has been the presence of several Black Swallowtail caterpillars this late in the season. I have found a few last instar larva on the abundant Golden Alexander at work, but was amazed to see this first or second instar caterpillar on Friday. It is good to be reminded to take a moment to appreciate your surroundings, even when you have so many tasks at hand. Beauty and miracles surround us, wherever we may be. We just have to pause and enjoy.

Awesome Arachnids

Posted on October 28, 2018 by roadsendnaturalist

She asks me to kill the spider.
Instead, I get the most
peaceful weapons I can find.

I take a cup and a napkin.
I catch the spider, put it outside
and allow it to walk away.

If I am ever caught in the wrong place
at the wrong time, just being alive
and not bothering anyone,

I hope I am greeted
with the same kind
of mercy.

~Rudy Francisco

I led a full moon walk this past week at Mason Farm Biological Reserve, a wild and wonderful tract managed by the NC Botanical Garden, only a mile or so from my office. I love being outside at night, hearing the night sounds, and trying to catch a glimpse of the creatures that make darkness their time of choice. The night before the hike, I walked alone along the trail at Mason Farm, looking for things to highlight and reacquainting myself with the brilliance of an almost full moon. A variety of night sounds greeted me as I walked in silence – the startling snorts of alarmed deer, a solitary hooting of a Barred Owl, a lone tree cricket…but the most magical was when a group of Coyotes initiated their yipping and howling as the moon rose above the tree line. Though it lasted less than a minute, it is a sound that sticks with you (and might even raise the hairs on the back of your neck a bit). Chilly night temperatures, combined with recent floods, seemed to reduce the number of night-time invertebrates that were out and about.

A fuzzy larva of The Laugher Moth feeding on oak, my only glow-in-the-dark caterpillar this past week (click photos to enlarge)

I searched with my ultraviolet flashlight for caterpillars, hoping to find some of my favorite slug larvae species, but came up with only two fuzzy larvae of The Laugher Moth. But there was one group well represented and quite noticeable, if you know how to look…

Carolina Wolf Spider, Hogna carolinensis, out and about along the edge of a field

Yes, that’s right, and somehow theme-appropriate at this time of year, spiders! On my pre-trip, they were everywhere, especially concentrated along the habitat edges (boundary between forest and field) and along the stream banks and swamp edge. If you don’t know, you can “sniff” spiders by holding a flashlight near your eyes or nose (or wear a headlamp) and scanning your surroundings. On almost any night from March through October, you are likely to see what look like dewdrops scattered across the ground. These are most likely spider eyes reflecting your light back to you (some may be dew drops if it is damp). If you are just holding a light down by your side, their reflection comes back at that level and you probably can’t see it. That’s where the sniffing part comes in. You tell your group you smell a spider. Since most people don’t usually walk around with their flashlight up near their eyes, they can’t see the eyeshine. On my program walk, I was able to run about 25 feet over to a tiny spider on a tree trunk by keeping my light on it to see its eyeshine. Of course, you always share that trick with your participants so they can see for themselves the incredible abundance of these spiders.

Hunting spiders, like wolf spiders, have a reflective layer in their eyes that bounces the light around so that there is a better chance to have it absorbed by the rod cells that help them see in low light. This is similar to what happens in the eyes of nocturnal vertebrates like deer and cats. One of the larger species out this time of year is the Carolina Wolf Spider which generally hides in underground burrows during the day, and then emerges to hunt prey at night. Females carry their egg sac off the tip of their abdomen. The baby spiders hatch and ride on the mother’s back for a week or so until they molt and then disperse.

A large, female Rabid Wolf Spider, Rapidosa rapida

Another large, and quite common, ground hunting spider is the oddly-named Rabid Wolf Spider. Its common and scientific names come from its rapid movements, not any ability to carry a mammalian disease. The bold stripes on the cephalothorax (the front body part that is sort of a head and thorax combined) are diagnostic of this species (along with some more subtle features). Males are distinguished by their smaller size and by the first pair of legs being black.

A Marbled Orb Weaver, Araneus marmoreus, in her web

There are relatively few web builders left out in the fields and woods this late in the season, but there is one notable exception, the Marbled Orb Weaver. This distinctively colored (yellow or orange abdomen) spider can be found in woods and along field edges into November. During the day, the large female hides in a folded leaf retreat along the edge of her circular web. She holds a line of silk attached to the web to detect and struggling prey. At night, they are more typically found perched in the center of the web. Their color scheme and occurrence through late October has given them another common name, the Halloween Spider. Web-builders typically have no eyeshine since they rely less on vision and more on vibrations of struggling prey in their web to obtain their meals.

A huge Dark Fishing Spider, Dolomedes tenebrosus, on a tree trunk at the edge of the swamp

The best spider find on our tour was made by one of the participants as we stood near the closed portion of the trail through the swamp. Hurricane Florence took out the boardwalk through this section so you can no longer walk the circular route. But, perhaps because of that pause, we got to see one of our most spectacular spiders, a very large Dark Fishing Spider. This large female would almost fill my palm. They are frequently found head-down on tree trunks (like this one) near water, but can occur quite some distance away. I have them in my workshop and frequently find their sheds scattered among my scrap wood or tools. There are other members of this genus that are more frequently found on and/or in water (e.g. the Six-spotted Fishing Spider) where they actively hunt for creatures that fall on the surface, or those that live just beneath (like aquatic invertebrates, tadpoles and even small fish). Female fishing spiders carry their egg sac beneath them, hanging onto the silken bag with their chelicera. When the young hatch, she creates a nursery web for them where they stay for a short while before dispersing.

Even the bread, Greatbreadus multigrainiia, at the Farmer’s Market is arachnid appreciative

I had a chance to write up some of this on Saturday, but not before I made my weekly trip to the Carrboro Farmer’s Market. There, I spied one more thing to add to this post – a loaf of beautiful bread from Chicken Bridge Bakery. So, whether its a graphic on tasty bread or an eight-legged critter on the trail, take the time to learn more about these awesome arachnids. If you want to learn more and see some incredible photos, check out some of the scientists I follow on Twitter – TurnFear2Fascination, Catherine Scott, and Thomas Shahan…you, too, will learn to appreciate these amazing creatures even more. Happy Arachtober!

Hiking the High Country

Posted on October 19, 2018 by roadsendnaturalist

Live your life each day as you would climb a mountain. An occasional glance toward the summit keeps the goal in mind, but many beautiful scenes are to be observed from each new vantage point.

~Harold B Melchart

Seems like just a little over a week ago that I was struggling to climb a mountain with a heavy load on my back…wait, it was just a little over a week ago! And this past weekend, we did it again. This time, in one of our favorite areas, the Mt. Rogers-Grayson Highlands region of southwest Virginia. My back was a bit sore from chainsawing fallen trees after the remnants of Hurricane Michael passed through, but we had planned this trip for some time. Melissa’s sister and boyfriend were going to meet us at Grayson Highlands State Park for a two-night adventure in the high country of Virginia. The weather forecast was a bit iffy, but off we went, ever hoping for the best. Our first day was a short one and after a hike of only a couple of miles, we found a great campsite along a beautiful mountain stream (Wilson Creek, I believe).

Campsite for our first night along a rushing stream (click photos to enlarge)

The overcast skies soon turned to rain after dark, but we were comfortable under a stretched tarp and the fire continued until a break in the rain let us get into our tents.

Sunrise in the high country

The next morning dawned clear and cool, with a mist drifting through the trees. It finally felt a little like Fall.

Early morning mist in the boggy meadow near camp

Invertebrate designs – a dewy spider web

I love early mornings – the quiet, the morning coffee, the first stirrings of the wildlife around you, and the softness of the light that gently touches everything, especially if there has been condensation overnight. I spotted a couple of shimmering orb weaver spider webs at the edge of the trees and we walked over. One was a particularly odd design. At first, we thought the spider was still busy weaving, but a closer look showed it was sitting in the center and the interior spirals of silk were there, just not glistening with dew like the rest of the web.

A scene near camp in the early morning light

The greens of mosses, club mosses, lichens, and ferns added a rich backdrop to every scene

I suppose backpacking on wet, rocky trails does have one advantage – I tend to not look around too much in order to keep my feet under me and the rest of me upright. Though I may miss some beautiful scenery or treetop wildlife, I do see a lot of interesting things on the ground. The lushness of moss hummocks and beds of club mosses were particularly noticeable on this trip. And there are still caterpillars out there to be found!

Hickory tussock moth larva

A Fall webworm (I think) covered in dew

Our day 2 hike was about 7 miles, with a steady climb through the forest to the more open high country for which this region is so well known. In addition to the expansive mountain views, the other major tourist attraction in this area are the herds of wild ponies. I saw an article stating this region is “the only place on the Appalachian Trail where you can see wild ponies”. Depending on which reference you use, the ponies are believed to have been introduced in the early 1940’s by locals wanting to keep the area open, or by the Forest Service decades later for the same land management purpose. There are believed to be about 100 ponies spread out over thousands of acres of high grassy balds and forests. They live up here year-round, but are watched over and rounded up once a year by the Wilburn Ridge Pony Association. The Fall round-up serves to check the health of the herd and to auction off some of the ponies (mostly males) to keep the population under control. Park rules ask visitors to observe the ponies from a distance and to not feed them. We had to step aside a couple of times as ponies walked by on the trail.

A foal nursing along the trail

Grazing of cattle in the highlands has long been a part of the local way of life, and in 2012, the Forest Service allowed herds of longhorn cattle to graze alongside the wild ponies during the growing season. The cattle are removed every winter, but the ponies stay through the bitter cold months.

This grass patch isn’t big enough for the two of us

As we approached the rocky outcrops of Wilburn Ridge, the strong winds caused us to rethink our plans for camping on the crest. So, we searched for something a little more protected in the open landscape. We ended up picking a spot of the leeward side of the ridge, partially protected by a large rock outcrop and a small grove of trees.

Our home for the night – not a bad view

There were a couple of campfire rings and a few relatively flat spots without too much pony poo, so we were able to set up camp, gather firewood, and relax and enjoy the spectacular views.

Sitting by our protected campfire looking out toward our tents

Shortly after dark, it started to rain, so we had an early end to the evening, climbing into our tents and hoping the gusty winds would subside before a tent wall collapsed under the strain. At one point during the night, I woke up to a sky full of stars. But by sunrise (well, when it got light anyway), it was a different story.

Inside a cloud on Wilburn Ridge

We were socked in and the view was a bit different from the sunset the night before. The wind was gently blowing as the clouds blew around us. A couple of ponies were barely visible100 feet away, and there was an eerie silence, save for the whap, whap, whap of a tent flap. It was only a couple of miles to the cars, so we grabbed a quick breakfast, packed up our wet gear, and headed out.

Below the clouds on our way out

The trail down the ridge is rocky but we were soon below the cloud deck and could see rolling ridges of highlands stretching to the gray horizon. Though the skies had been leaden for much of the trip, we appreciated the solitude and serenity of our time in the high country and are looking forward to a return trip. In case you go, our hike took us from the Overnight Backpackers Parking Area near Massie Gap (you must register and pay at the entrance station to Grayson Highlands State Park), up the AT to the Scales Trail, then to the Pine Mountain Trail, and finally rejoining the AT back to the parking area.

Shining Rock

Posted on October 7, 2018 by roadsendnaturalist

Backpacking: An extended form of hiking in which people carry double the amount of gear they need for half the distance they planned to go in twice the time it should take.

~Author unknown

Melissa loves to backpack. That is an understatement. And I love to be in the places that backpacking takes us. It is the getting there that sometimes gets me. So, Melissa, the quote above is just a joke (sort of). This trip was planned between our birthdays (a several year tradition for us) to be an outing to one of our favorite spots, Dolly Sods Wilderness in West Virginia (see previous post). But the weather forecast looked rainy in WV, and we are not fans of long hikes in the rain, so we changed plans at the last minute and headed to an area Melissa had visited on a recent Museum workshop – the Shining Rock Wilderness. This is the largest wilderness area in North Carolina at about 18,000 acres. It is well-known as being one of the most scenic hiking areas in our state, with excellent views from several mountaintops over 6000 feet. There is easy access from areas near the Blue Ridge Parkway, making this a very popular destination on weekends. We decided to start from a lower elevation at the Big East Fork Trailhead and had planned to hike the Old Butt Trail (no comments, please) up to Shining Rock. But, as is apparently common in this area, we missed that trail juncture and ended up on its loop counterpart, the Shining Creek Trail. Both of these sections are described as difficult. I agree with that judgement as they climb about 2600 feet in a few miles over very rocky terrain. But Shining Creek is absolutely beautiful and, being on a weekday, we had no company on the way up.

A tributary to Shining Creek (click photos to enlarge)

Crowned Slug, the first of many caterpillars we found along the trail

Pipevine Swallowtail larvae were a common sight in the woods feeding on their host, Pipevine

A Hickory Tussock Moth larva

With the late start, we didn’t make it far up the trail before deciding to camp at a relatively flat spot above the creek. While sitting at camp, Melissa found a Blue Ridge Two-lined Salamander crawling up her leg. That evening, we went down to the creek to wash up, and I got distracted by other salamanders crawling about in search of their evening meal. It really is amazing how many salamanders must live in these mountains!

Gray-cheeked Salamander

Blue Ridge Two-lined Salamander dorsal view

One of three Blue Ridge Two-lined Salamanders we saw down by the creek. This species often climbs up on vegetation at night (or a hiker’s legs) looking for invertebrate prey.

Blue Ridge Two-lined Salamander male with cirri

This is a male with swollen cirri (those snout appendages) which occurs during the breeding season

We spotted a couple of large Black-bellied Salamanders in the creek during our hike

The next day’s hike was a difficult one for me (somehow, our birthdays seem to have taken some umpf out of my legs, and added zip to hers) but we made it up to Shining Rock Gap with plenty of time to set up camp in a sheltered spruce grove. We took our stove and fixed dinner atop an outcrop of brilliantly white quartz that gives this mountaintop its name.

Outcrops of white quartz shine in the late day sun at the summit of Shining Rock (elevation – 6000 ft.)

The mood changed dramatically as mist drifted through the valley with the approach of sunset

Sunset from Shining Rock as mist rolls in

A beautiful sunset view from Shining Rock

The next morning we hit a section of the famed Art Loeb Trail in search of views from a grassy bald. It turns out, there aren’t that many places through this stretch with that type of scenery. You are mainly hiking through rhododendron thickets and vast expanses of waist-high blueberries and blackberries. We broke out into the open at Flower Gap, but another couple had claimed that spot for the night. We weren’t keen on that spot anyway as we had heard from two guys at the trailhead that a bear had raided their supplies in this gap two nights ago, a fact we shared with the couple. It turns out, those guys had not brought a bear canister, a requirement when camping in the Shining Rock Wilderness. We went on a bit further and climbed a side trail up to the summit of Grassy Cove Top (elevation – 6049 ft.). There were a couple of tent-sized grassy patches, so we claimed one for the evening and had time to relax and enjoy the stunning views. We were hoping to see some raptors migrating, but it seems we missed the peak migration by a week or so. We did manage an American Kestrel, a Northern Harrier, an unidentified Buteo, and two Broad-winged Hawks, along with dozens of Cloudless Sulphur butterflies, and some mystery critters at sunset (they looked like large insects, but we couldn’t tell for sure in the low light).

Our tent nesteled among the blueberry shrubs

Our tent nestled in a small grassy area surrounded by blueberry shrubs atop Grassy Cove Top

Bumblebees were quite common in the balds, and here is one on a Gentian along the woodland trail

We strung our hammocks in a nearby stand of spruce to have some time in the shade, and then went back out to a rock outcrop for dinner and an amazing sunset.

A spectacular sunset from Grassy Cove Top

Looking north from our camp after sunset

That night, we sat and looked at stars, got great views of Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars, and were thankful to be here rather than in the distant lights of towns and cities on the horizon.

The incredible view at sunrise from our campsite on Grassy Cove Top

Melissa mentioned the beauty of simple things like the scent of spruce and fir, an unobstructed view of the night sky, and the quiet of a mountaintop. She is right, this is why we do this. A more appropriate quote for backpacking these rugged hills might be this one by the muse of the mountains, John Muir…

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves. As age comes on, one source of enjoyment after another is closed, but Nature’s sources never fail.

Looking forward to our next birthday adventure (but we don’t have to wait that long, honest).

See No Weevil…Well, Just One

Posted on October 1, 2018 by roadsendnaturalist

A big nose never spoiled a handsome face.

~French proverb

I set out the moth light the other night and had a few species come in, but had many non-moth visitors – katydids, a praying mantis, lots of caddisflies, and one very interesting little guy, a weevil.

Weevil on sheet at moth light (click photos to enlarge)

Weevils are the largest family of beetles with over 3000 species in North America. They are distinguished by often having a distinctive snout (rostrum) with chewing mouth parts at the end, and antennae part way down its length. They are plant feeders of one sort and many are considered agricultural pests, but, they sure are interesting and crazy-looking creatures. The Kaufman Field Guide to Insects of North America states that hardly any plant is not affected by at least one species of Curculionidae.

Close-up view of that amazing rostrum

My visitor the other night looks like one of the acorn weevils, Curculio sp. They are tan to brown with a long rostrum and spurs on the femurs of their legs. Weevil antennae are elbowed and can fit into a special groove in the snout.

Acorn weevil

I am guessing this may be a female since they tend to have longer snouts, at least as long as their body. So, she has probably been using the mandibles at the tip of that “nose” to chew holes in some of the many acorns out back. She then turns around and lays an egg into that hole. Her baby will feed on the meat of the nut and then chew its way out and pupate in the soil once the acorn falls. I reported on the fascinating grubs of acorn weevils in an earlier post. No matter your opinion on the dietary costs of weevils, you gotta admit, they are one odd-looking, and some may even say, cute, critters.

Snippets

Posted on September 29, 2018 by roadsendnaturalist

Life moves pretty fast.If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

~John Hughes

Indeed, life has been moving too fast of late, with so many things happening at work and in our personal lives. Luckily, I work in a magical place, and it doesn’t take much time to find something of interest – a short walk across the garden for a meeting, a trip out to my car, or just doing some of the outdoor chores that need doing, there is so much to see, if you just pay attention. It also helps when my co-workers and volunteers find something and drop me a note or give me a call. That was what brought many of these snippets to my attention this past week. Here are some of the highlights from the week of what you can encounter in a native plant haven like the North Carolina Botanical Garden.

Monarch butterfly stretching her wings after emerging from the chrysalis (click photos to enlarge)

Some monarchs are not so lucky. This one was brought to me by a wonderful volunteer. She was hoping to release an adult butterfly, but a tachinid fly larvae emerged instead. Its pupa is the brown case beneath the damaged monarch chrysalis.

caterpillar with parasitoid eggs on dorsal surface

Tachinid flies are common parasitoids of many butterflies and moths. But I had never found a caterpillar with the white eggs of one of these flies on it until I stumbled across this one this week.

green lynx pider under hooded pitcher plant

This female Green Lynx Spider laid her egg sac in the protected cover of a Hooded Pitcher Plant.

Another Green Lynx female sits next to her recently hatched spiderlings atop a Cardinal Flower seed stalk.

These Green Lynx Spider babies have molted once and will soon disperse away from their protective mother.

After our wet summer, the Garden is now alive with many tiny Cope’s Gray Treefrogs.

A co-worker alerted me to this Black Swallowtail pre-pupa one afternoon this week. Knowing it would shed one more time and reveal the chrysalis in the next 24-hours, I brought it to our volunteer training the next morning.

black swallowtail just after chrysalis formed

I carried the pre-pupa along on a training session and, right on schedule, the last molt occurred and everyone was able to witness the amazing transformation to the chrysalis.

A Week of Moments

Posted on September 24, 2018 by roadsendnaturalist

The butterfly counts not months, but moments, and has time enough.

~Rabindranath Tagore

Monarch butterfly shortly after emergence from its chrysalis (click photos to enlarge)

Last week was a busy one (actually, aren’t they all) at work with getting everything back out after the hurricane and preparing for and delivering several programs. And yet, it was still a week full of natural history highlights, brief moments when the beauty and mystery that surrounds us reveals itself and I take a moment to pause and wonder. Here are a few of those moments…

One of the horticulture staff spotted this female marbled salamander (females have gray markings, males have white ones) among the soil around some plants in the Display Gardens. She will be laying eggs soon in a wetland depression and will guard them until rains fill the pool.

Seed pods of Hearts-a-bustin, Euonymus americanus, one of my favorite native shrubs of autumn.

A purple-crested slug moth caterpillar (Adoneta spinuloides) that has recently molted.

I did a lunchbox talk at the Garden last week on one of my favorite topics, caterpillars. So, in spite of the postponement of the museum’s BugFest event due to the hurricane, Melissa and I were still able to go out one evening and collect a few for my talk (sounds like the prefect date night, doesn’t it).

This larva has fallen victim to a wasp parasitoid. The white silky blob beneath the caterpillar are the wasp cocoons. One study estimated that 10 to 25% of all last instar caterpillars are parasitized by wasp or fly parasitoids.

The day after my caterpillar program we discovered this group of turbulent phosphila moth larvae feeding on their host plant, greenbrier. It can be hard to tell which end is which on this gregarious feeder.

Certainly one of the stranger-looking groups of moths, the plume moths, resemble tiny gliders.

The week ended rather poorly for this male carpenter bee that was prey for this Chinese mantis.

Fall is just around the corner when the goldenrods (Solidgo sp.) are in bloom.

Be sure to take the time to find some moments in your week ahead.

Roads End Naturalist

Educating myself and others about the natural world as I wander and ponder at road's end.

Winter Bliss

Another Count, Another Great Day at Pungo

They’re Baaaaack

Pausing

Awesome Arachnids

Hiking the High Country

Shining Rock

See No Weevil…Well, Just One

Snippets

A Week of Moments

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