With the exception of a body of rocks looking like the ruins of an old castle, near the southwestern extremity, the top of Roan may be described as a vast meadow, without a tree to obstruct the prospect; where a person may gallop his horse for a mile or two, with Carolina at his feet on one side and Tennessee on the other, and a green ocean of mountains rising in tremendous billows immediately around him.
~Elisha Mitchell, 1835
The Celo Inn (click photos to enlarge)
Last weekend we took a mini-trip to the mountains on short notice. Original plans were to travel to South Carolina, but weather reports called for rain much of the weekend. A last minute change of schedule had us headed to one of my favorite spots in our mountains to spend a night or two – the Celo Inn. Located near Burnsville, the Inn is both simple and elegant. I have stayed here many times over the years, including on several museum workshops, and it has always been a pleasure. The innkeepers are wonderful folks, and the breakfasts are a delight. Plus, the location, just a few miles off the Blue Ridge Parkway, is ideal for all sorts of mountain adventures.
Roaring Fork Falls
After checking in, we headed to a nearby waterfalls for a short hike before dinner. Roaring Fork Falls is a 100 foot cascade up an easy 1/2 mile trail. It is a well-used area but is still a beautiful setting. Unfortunately, all of the hemlocks at the falls appear to now be dead from the effects of the introduced Hemlock Woolly Adelgid. It makes me wonder what impacts there have been (or will be in the future) on the aquatic life in this, and so many other beautiful mountain streams. Shade cast by the dense canopy of the large hemlocks helped cool the temperatures in the streams and, undoubtedly, provided a lot of organic input every year. Only time will tell how these mountain streams will fare without the hemlocks along their banks.
The sinuous track of this tree root reminded me of the path of the water cascading beside usA slow shutter speed creates a misty flow in the cascadeThe reptilian texture of liverworts growing on a stream-side boulder
Just sitting by a clear ribbon of water is a soothing way to spend time, and helps me take in the scene more clearly. I think I notice subtleties better when listening to flowing water.
A red spruce grove near the start of the trail up Roan Mountain
The next morning we drove about an hour to a new area for me, the so-called highlands of Roan Mountain. The Appalachian Trail (AT) crosses the road at Carver’s Gap and heads up on both sides to a unique habitat in the Southern Appalachians – mountain balds. We arrived at the trail head to discover it really is one of the more popular hiking destinations in the region. I am guessing there were 40 or 50 vehicles parked in the lot and along the roadsides. The guidebook said most people only walked to the top of the first bald and, beyond that, the trail would grow less crowded. We headed north along the AT, crossing through a dense grove of red spruce, before breaking out into a clearing bordered by rhododendron.
The trail soon becomes a pathway in the sky
Mountain balds come in two flavors – grass balds and shrub (or heath) balds. The term “bald” here refers to mountain summits that are covered in grasses or shrubs where you would normally expect to find forests. The origin of these treeless areas is still a mystery, although current theory suggests that grazing by large native herbivores (some of which, like ground sloths and woolly mammoths, are now extinct) in prehistoric times, and later by elk, bison, and introduced livestock with the arrival of settlers, has maintained these unique vegetative communities. Whatever their origin, they are a hiker’s delight. But, conditions are changing and shrubs are beginning to encroach on many of the grassy balds in the region. Land managers are trying various strategies (grazing, mowing, hand cutting) to maintain these scenic vistas.
View across the grassy balds of Roan Mountain
Along our section of trail, there are three high elevation balds – Round Bald (5,826 ft.), Jane Bald (5,807 ft.), and Grassy Ridge (6,158 ft.). This section of trail across the Roan highlands is said by many to be the most scenic section along the entire 2000+ mile Appalachian Trail.
Trail sign at Jane Bald
The trail literally straddles the NC-TN state line as it gradually climbs over the ridges. Along the way, you pass through a few shrub-dominated zones containing Catawba rhododendron, green alder, and blueberries.
The trail passes under a rhododendron tunnel
After Jane Bald, the AT veers off down a slope, but we continued on a well marked trail up toward the summit of Grassy Ridge. In a scene reminiscent of my recent Everglades trip, we passed under a tunnel of vegetation, but this time it was rhododendron, instead of red mangroves, brushing my hat.
Rhododendron thicket along trail reminded me of an upside down mangrove thicket
After the short stint of ducking under low branches, you come out into a vast open area, which keeps getting more spectacular as you climb.
You can’t beat the views from Grassy Ridge
This is Grassy Ridge, and on a clear day, waves of undulating lines stretch out before you – Grandfather Mountain, Table Rock, Hawksbill, and countless lesser known peaks and ridges that seem to go on forever. This is why this section of trail is so popular. I can only imagine what it must be like in late June when the rhododendrons are in bloom, along with the occasional rare Gray’s Lily. I suppose I will need to return to see for myself.
Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty, if only we have the eyes to see them.
~John Ruskin
While we saw a variety of wildlife on our Florida adventure, I was a bit surprised we had not seen as many birds as I had hoped. As I mentioned in an earlier post, it has been a wet winter in South Florida, which apparently causes the birds to be more spread out than usual during the winter months.
Great egret preening in Big Cypress
There had been plenty of scattered sightings (and some great views) of egrets, herons, hawks, and song birds, but no large concentrations. On our last evening in Florida, I was hoping to change all that. On the advice of our kayak tour company, I had booked a sunset boat tour with Allure Adventures out of Everglades City. I was told Captain Kent was a long-time local that took small groups out to the mangrove islands at sunset with the chance of seeing lots of birds coming to roost, beautiful skies, and maybe even dolphins and sea turtles. He lived up to the promotion.
A nice Florida combo – osprey nest on a manatee zone sign in the channel
We met him at at the dock at 5:45 p.m., boarded his small boat, and headed out into the area known as Ten Thousand Islands. Close to shore we saw pelicans, a few egrets, some cormorants, and passed by a couple of osprey nests.
One of several mangrove islands filled with birds coming to roost at sunset
Within a few minutes, we saw a cluster of mangrove islands dotted with birds, lots of birds.
Great egrets settling in for the night
As our boat slowly circled the islands, I could see hundreds of great egrets, brown pelicans, white ibis, cormorants, and other species jostling for position as more of their kind flew in to roost for the evening.
Adult born pelican surveying us as we cruise by the islandAdults have yellow heads and white necks; immature pelicans are gray-brown on their head and neck
Boats are required to stay a certain distance away from the roosting birds so as to not disturb them. Our slow speed, the calm waters, and a telephoto lens (plus a cropped image) allowed great views and close-ups.
The last mangrove island before the vast expanse of the Gulf of Mexico
Promising we would return before sunset, the captain steered us out through a maze of islands until we came to the edge of the Gulf of Mexico. We beached the boat and got out for a stroll for a few minutes to take in the view and immensity of the scene.
Dolphins riding our wake
Cruising back toward the birds, we spotted a couple of sea turtles, and a small group of dolphins. As we passed through the area where the dolphins had been swimming, the captain said they often like to “play” with the boat. Sure enough, it wasn’t long until we had dorsal fins trailing in the wake of our boat, with dolphins taking turns leaping out of the water behind us.
I’m not sure who enjoyed it more, the dolphins or us.
Cruising through the mangrove islands at sunset
We spent several minutes enjoying the company of the dolphins, but the captain soon turned the boat back toward the bird islands. The sun was setting and he wanted us to see how many more birds were now occupying the mangroves.
Hundreds of birds dotted the mangroves at sunsetBirds were flying in to roost from all directions
As we approached, the trees were speckled with white and dark shapes, with more coming in from all directions.
Spectacular scene at sunset
White ibis coming in to roost
The color of the sky became a flame orange as we circled the islands one last time. This was what Captain Kent wanted us to see…the bird rookery with a golden sky as a backdrop.
Some of the egrets are busy building nests in the mangroves
It was a perfect way to end our trip – calm waters, a beautiful sky, and huge numbers of birds flying in for the evening. This was what I had hoped to see, the spectacle of wild Florida. And I must also thank Captain Kent for going above and beyond the call of duty. One of our party left behind a pair of rather expensive binoculars, presumably out on the mangrove island we had walked on. The captain made a special effort to look for them on his next outing, and, amazingly, found them. They have been shipped to the owner, and we all thank him for an amazing trip, and his kindness. Now, that IS the perfect ending.
If, in the name of progress, we want to destroy everything beautiful in our world, and contaminate the air we breathe, and the water we drink, then we are in trouble.
~Marjory Stoneman Douglas, in response to critics saying that conservationists were trying to halt progress in Florida by preserving Big Cypress Swamp
Big Cypress National Preserve was once called the Western Everglades, and was originally supposed to be part of the national park, but was removed from protection before the park was created in 1947. An elevation difference of 1 to 2 feet makes Big Cypress a vastly different ecosystem than the river of grass of much of the eastern portion of Everglades National Park. Big Cypress is home to deep water cypress sloughs and strands (linear cypress islands) and is underlain more by peat than the limestone deposits more common in much of the park. The result is more of a “swamp feel” than the open grass prairies we experienced on our first two days in Florida.
Pond behind our lodging in Big Cypress (click photos to enlarge)
It wasn’t until I returned home that I found out about the contentious history of the effort to preserve what is now Big Cypress National Preserve, the first national preserve in the United States. After the virgin cypress were essentially logged out throughout much of the region in the 1930’s and 40’s, the area was proposed as part of Everglades National Park. But, when the park was created, the lands encompassing Big Cypress were excluded. More controversy erupted in 1968, when plans were unveiled to create a huge jetport (what would have been the largest airport in the world) in part of Big Cypress. Conservationists joined the fight and the struggle went back and forth until the creation of the 720,000+ acre preserve in 1974.
Our Swamp Walk guide, Scott, pointing out an alligator at the end of our trail
When planning the trip a few months ago, I learned about some unique lodging in an in-holding in Big Cypress – the cabins at the Big Cypress Gallery of famed landscape photographer, Clyde Butcher. I have been aware of Clyde’s images for many years and he really is the Ansel Adams of the swamp. He is also an ardent conservationist, and has done a great deal to bring the beauty and plight of the region to the public’s attention. When I found out he had lodging in Big Cypress, I couldn’t resist booking it. In addition to the wonderful accommodations and surrounding property, he offers guided swamp walks for a fee. Though it is a bit pricey, I am glad we did it. Our guide, Scott, is a wonderful person (as were all the staff we met) and very knowledgeable about the plants and animals of Big Cypress. The swamp walks usually take a couple of hours. You walk with a sturdy hiking stick (they provide those) on a flooded trail behind the lodging that passes through a variety of habitats, including swamp, prairie edge, and dwarf cypress stands. There was both excitement and some slight apprehension when we began the hike, and I particularly liked Scott’s answer to the question, “how deep does it get”? He said this winter has been unusually wet, so the deepest part was 38 inches. Nothing like a precise answer! Of course, he is 6 feet 5 inches tall, so the deep water comes a little farther up on our bodies than it does on his.
Bromeliads are very abundant in Big Cypress
We walked at a slow pace, taking in all the sights, and sounds, that the swamp had to offer. The grunting calls of pig frogs were particularly evident here as they were elsewhere on our trip. And the diversity of plant life is amazing!
An old growth cypress stand looks quite different than our old growth forests
At one point, the trail opened up into a mix of small cypress trees and grasses. Many of these trees are surprisingly old, stunted due to growing on the porous limestone bedrock of this particular part of Big Cypress. We saw relatively few animals until we got right to the end of the trail.
Large female alligator greets us at trails’ end
There, in a small pond behind one of the cabins, was a large female alligator (maybe 7 ft+ in length), along with several of her babies and a few 1 and 2 year old gators. She came over to greet us as we stepped out of the swamp onto dry ground, and hissed loudly to let us know we should not disturb her youngsters. Not to worry, we gave them a wide berth.
Big mama watching us as we look back
Gators have a toothy grin when viewed through binoculars or a telephoto lens, enough so that you respect their space…
A sign that states the obvious
and shouldn’t need to be reminded with signage:) We did all wonder what it must be like to live next to such large reptiles. I will admit, I scanned the surroundings with my flashlight more than usual when I went outside at night.
Ovenbird
Neotropical migrant birds are beginning to appear in South Florida (and should be here in NC soon, if not already). On a short walk at our lodging, I saw Northern Parula Warblers, Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, a Louisiana Waterthrush, Black-and-white Warblers, and several Ovenbirds.
My kayak buddy at sunrise on the Turner River
Our first full morning in Big Cypress was spent with Shurr Adventures on their sunrise kayak tour on the Turner River Paddle Trail. I had picked this group since they were highly rated online, and I saw they do Yellowstone tours in the summer (how could I go wrong with that combo?). It turned out to be a great choice. The kayaks were very stable, with comfortable seats, and the guide was very personable and knowledgeable. The morning started out foggy, and we saw, and heard, lots of wildlife.
Common moorhen on the riverThis green heron allowed a close approach while it squawked its guttural callOsprey near its nest on the river
All sorts of bird life was active that morning, and the kayaks allowed us to get close to several species. When we headed south of the put-in point, we even got a pretty good view of one of my target species, a limpkin (unfortunately it was in thick vegetation , so not the best photo op).
Exotic apple snail (left; smaller, native apple snail (right)
Florida is awash in exotic invasive species, both plant and animal. While paddling the Turner River, we were introduced to one of the more recent invaders, the island apple snail. Believed to have been introduced by releases from the exotic pet trade, this, and a few other species of exotic apple snail, are creating real concern for scientists in the Everglades. The native Florida apple snail, Pomacea paludosa, is much smaller than this invader, and is the primary food source for the endangered snail kite. The larger size, fecundity, and voracious appetite of the invader snail, P. insularum, is cause for concern, both in terms of altering the wetlands plant community, and out-competing the native species of snail, with potentially disastrous results for the kite.
Egg masses of the exotic island apple snail are pink; eggs of the native species are larger, and white
During our stay, I found one egg mass of a native apple snail, but we saw many egg masses of the invader, especially in the Big Cypress Swamp area.
Kayaking through a mangrove tunnel
When we headed south of the Tamiami Trail in our kayaks, the plant community changed from a cattail fringed swamp forest to an expanse of red mangrove tunnels. Kayaking through the mangroves turned out to be a lot easier than paddling a canoe through them, like we had done at Nine Mile Pond, but you did need to break down the longer kayak paddle to avoid catching it on every prop root. After finishing our morning trip, we returned to Clyde Butcher’s place for some rest and exploration. I drove out to scout our route for our final day in the area (a dirt and paved thoroughfare called the Loop Road), and came across all sorts of birds and a seemingly endless supply of alligators. If you have the time, I recommend the Loop Road as a leisurely pathway to observe some of the scenery and critters of Big Cypress. The entire wild region was a great way to relax before heading back to the hectic pace of Miami for our flight home. Below are some more images of our time in Big Cypress. I look forward to a return visit in the near future.
Red-shouldered hawks were seen everywhere we traveledAnhinga along the boardwalk at the Oasis Visitor CenterFlorida soft shell turtle along Tamiami TrailPied-billed grebe along the Turner RiverGators in black and white…
There are no other Everglades in the world. They are, they have always been, one of the unique regions of the earth, remote, never wholly known.
~Marjory Stoneman Douglas, author of The Everglades: River of Grass, 1947
Sitting by the fire yesterday afternoon, I can hardly believe I spent last week in the Florida heat and humidity, in one of the most extensive wild places I have ever been – Everglades National Park. Years ago, I drove across the state on I-75 (aka Alligator Alley) going from Miami to Tampa Bay, but I had never been in the park. So, it didn’t take much convincing when a group of friends asked if I wanted to join them on a trip. After flying into Miami (and getting a bit lost trying to get out of the city), it is a relatively quick drive through extensive farm fields, of every imaginable type of crop, to the sudden transition to the park.
The Anhinga Trail can be crowded, but still has great wildlife (click photos to enlarge)
Our first must-see stop was the famed Anhinga Trail, on the east side of the park. It is not far from the entrance and is said to be one of the best places to see some of the park’s iconic wildlife up close and personal. And even though it was crowded with visitors (and, I am happy to report, several school groups), it did not disappoint.
Double-crested cormorant along the trail
After spotting an alligator near the trail head, we walked by a double-crested cormorant, standing right next to the paved trail, and panting in the 80+ degree heat. I shot several close-up photos before moving on. I must admit, I always love seeing their emerald green eyes.
Feather pattern on the cormorant
This bird was so close to the trail, and seemingly so unafraid, that it also allowed me to appreciate the delicate feather pattern on its back.
Great egret hunting next to trail
A few feet further along, a very tame great egret was hunting in a culvert that passed under the paved trail and spearing small fish. This time of year is the start of their breeding season and these elegant birds undergo a dramatic color change on their face – the lores (the skin between the eye and bill) turns from the usual yellow to a chartreuse green, and the bill changes from yellow to blackish-orange. They also develop long nuptial plumes, called aigrettes. These elegant feathers almost led to the extinction of egrets by plume-hunting in the early 20th century, when the feathers were used to adorn ladies’ hats. Luckily, conservation efforts helped stop the demand and the birds have recovered over much of their range.
An anhinga, with wings spread, along the boardwalk
Walking out on one of the boardwalk sections, we spied numerous green herons, some more alligators, and the trail’s namesake, an anhinga. Anhingas are oddly beautiful birds that go by other names such as water turkey (their tail does resemble that of a wild turkey) and snake bird (for their habit of swimming with just their neck and head above water). This wing spreading behavior is to allow them to dry their feathers after swimming for their favorite prey, fish. Anhingas and cormorants are primitive birds that lack the oil glands to waterproof their feathers that other water-loving birds possess. During the breeding season, the skin around their eyes turns a bright blue.
Halloween pennant
Probably the most common flier we saw was not a bird, but a species of dragonfly, the Halloween pennant. It is easily recognized by its distinctive wing colors – orange with dark splotches and bands. It is often seen perched atop vegetation, swaying in the wind.
Blue tilapia
The clear water allowed us to see many species of fish along the canals and pools throughout the park. At the Anhinga Trail, one of the most common was baffling at first. It turned out to be an introduced exotic, the blue tilapia, native to Africa and the Middle East. These fish were everywhere in the canals and their large excavated nests were clearly visible in the dark water. South Florida is, unfortunately, a haven for all sorts of exotic plant and animal species. A few native fish species are also very abundant and easily observed including largemouth bass, various species of sunfish, and Florida gar.
Strangler fig
While many of the birds and other wildlife are species that I found familiar, many of the plant species in this portion of the park are more tropical in origin, but were vaguely familiar from my museum trips to Belize years ago. One we saw throughout our travels is the bizarre strangler fig, Ficus aurea. The life cycle starts when a bird or other animal eats the fig fruit and deposits the sticky seed on the trunk of another tree. The fig often begins as an epiphyte, but soon sends roots twining down the trunk of its host to reach the soil. It then grows to the top of the host, sends down aerial roots, and leafs out in the crown of the tree, shading out the leaves of the host plant. The fig continues to develop its crown and root system, often completely enveloping, and eventually killing, the host tree.
On our second morning, I had arranged a ranger-led canoe trip at Nine Mile Pond. We had 6 canoes, plus the ranger, on a 4 hour paddle through mangrove tunnels and marshes.
Mangroves and marshes along the paddle trail
We started with a fantastic sunrise and enjoyed numerous alligator sightings, a gentle breeze that helped with the rising heat, and blue skies punctuated by white puffy clouds.
Another alligator gives us the eye
The highlight for me was some serious alligator bellowing at one of our stopping points. It is the start of the gator breeding season and the big bulls bellow to attract a mate. It is one of the most impressive wild sounds in the southeast, reminding me of a roar of a lion or a bison bull.
Can you find and identify the three bird species in this tree?
The road through this section of the park ends at Flamingo, a small enclave along Florida Bay with a marina, visitor center, and cafe. We spent time here on both of our first two days, enjoying the breeze and the abundant bird life. Osprey nests dotted the trees, mangrove islands, and man-made towers. At one point there were three great bird species in a tree near the parking lot – an osprey in its nest, a red-shouldered hawk, and a pileated woodpecker. Out in the Bay, we spotted American white pelicans, white ibis, brown pelicans, black skimmers, and numerous gulls, terns, and shorebirds. And, on a stroll to the marina (without my camera, unfortunately), we had great views of a huge American crocodile (this is the best place in the park to see this rare reptile) and four manatees. Needless to say, Flamingo is well worth the drive.
Vast saw grass prairie at Pa-Hay-Okee boardwalk
When I started planning the trip, I bought a copy of Exploring Everglades National Park and the Surrounding Area (A Falcon Guide), and it proved a valuable asset in choosing which of the many trails and boardwalks to visit in our brief stay. One of the highly recommended stops is the Pa-Hay-Okee Trail. The name is derived from a Seminole word meaning “much grass in water”, a reference to the vast saw grass prairies that make up much of this region. There is an elevated section to the boardwalk which gives an incredible view of the “river of grass” that is the lifeblood of the Everglades.
Little blue heron up close
Another must-see stop is Shark Valley. We arrived mid-morning and drove right in (there can be considerable wait times to get in on busy days – but you can drop your riders off and park along the main road outside the entrance and walk back in). There is a small visitor center, restrooms, a few picnic tables and a 15-mile paved trail (accessible by walking, bicycling, or taking a concession-operated tram tour) through the saw grass prairie. Along the trail is a canal that retains water even in the dry season, concentrating wildlife such as alligators and wading birds, for easy viewing. Even though this winter has been an unusually wet one, which has caused much of the wildlife to remain dispersed throughout the vast wetlands, there were still plenty of things to see as we walked a short distance along this easy path. A little blue heron hunted patiently within a few feet of the walkway, periodically snapping up tiny fish and gulping them down. Several species of warblers and other songbirds were seen and heard in the thickets along the canal (especially the ubiquitous white-eyed vireo).
Purple gallinule
And we finally caught a glimpse of one of the “specialty birds” of this trail, a purple gallinule. These brightly-colored members of the rail family feed on a variety of plant material and invertebrates. Their enormous feet are useful for clinging to shrubbery and walking on floating vegetation such as lily pads.
The first of many baby alligators we saw
Alligators were all along the canal, and we even had several baby alligators sunning themselves on lily pads. One walked across the pavement, as people stopped and wondered where the usually protective mother gator might be hiding and watching her brood. After a brief stay at Shark Valley, we headed out of the park and to our next destination, Big Cypress National Preserve. I feel like I only scratched the surface of the Everglades experience. It is the third largest national park in the continental United States at 1.5 million acres and is one that lies just outside the major metropolitan areas of Miami and South Florida, and the huge agricultural lands that provide food for countless Americans. Even though the park represents a large portion of land, the ecosystem is highly altered from its original condition. Roads and drainage canals have greatly reduced the flow of water from lands north to Lake Okeechobee, and agricultural chemicals are impacting the water quality. But, the Everglades still present a wild side of Florida that people need to experience. A visit to this park helps you understand why we must all continue to work together to protect out public lands and the incredible diversity of life that call them home.
While walking down by the intermittent stream in the woods this week, I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned, but didn’t see anything at first. When I stepped in the direction of the flash, it happened again. This time I saw it – it was the quick escape leap of a tiny northern cricket frog, Acris crepitans.
Northern cricket frog (click photos to enlarge)
They are among our smallest vertebrates, with adults barely reaching 1.5 inches in body length. But they are great leapers for their size, jumping up to three feet when startled.
Cricket frogs blend in very well with their surroundings
Northern cricket frogs are widespread in the Eastern U.S., ranging from northeastern Mexico, up to Wisconsin, and east to the Atlantic states. There are actually two species of cricket frogs in North Carolina – the northern, which is mainly in the Piedmont, and the southern, more typically found in the Coastal counties. They are similar in appearance, both being small, cryptically colored frogs, with long, slender hind legs, and a warty appearance. Most have a distinctive darkened triangle pattern between the eyes, and a Y-shaped line extending down the back. Throughput their range, northern cricket frogs exhibit variation in color, with the dorsal stripe being either primarily gray, brown, reddish-brown, or green. The one above seems to be primarily brown with some hints of reddish-brown in some of the warts.
Another frog in these woods with a green color pattern
A few yards away, I came upon another cricket frog, this one with a noticeable green coloration in the dorsal Y-pattern. I looked up the topic of their color variation and stumbled on a host of scientific papers dealing with this phenomenon in cricket frogs, known as color polymorphism. Various theories have been proposed and tested throughout the range of this species. And they have come up with various reasons for the color differences: visual selection by predators directly determines color proportions (the theory being that those that blend in better with the local surroundings are better concealed and therefore survive better); another thought some color morphs correlated better with local substrate color but are more resistant to desiccation in certain habitat types; and yet another study disagreed and suggested natural selection may favor some behavioral characteristics associated with a particular morph.
Whatever the reason for their color, they are fun to watch
I finally found one Illinois study that did some comparisons with other data and concluded that different factors must operate throughout the species range to maintain this color polymorphism. The author states that chance may be a major factor in determining color morph proportions in localized populations. Perhaps the frogs know something about color variation that we just have not yet discovered. Whatever the reason, I always enjoy seeing one of these cryptic creatures leap and disappear into the background. And, I look forward to the start of their breeding season, accompanied by their clicking calls, in a few weeks.
I believe the world is incomprehensibly beautiful — an endless prospect of magic and wonder.
~Ansel Adams
Join me, June 2-9, 2016, for an unforgettable experience in an incomprehensibly beautiful place – the world’s first national park, Yellowstone! This year marks 100 years since the creation of the National Park Service, and there is no better way to celebrate than by visiting Yellowstone. We will spend our days exploring Yellowstone’s unique thermal areas, beautiful landscapes, and wildlife-rich valleys. I offer small group (4 to 6 participants) field experiences that take you beyond the typical roadside views of this incredible park. Visit my Trips page for more information and to request a registration form. Space is limited. Previous blogs from Yellowstone trips can give you an idea of the wonder and beauty you will experience.
Here are a few images from past trips to entice you.
Steam at Grand Geyser (click photos to enlarge)Baby bison will be abundant in early JuneThe beautiful Lamar ValleyGray wolf in Lamar ValleyMountain bluebirdHot spring
I recently had a discussion with someone about sitting quietly in nature and just observing your surroundings as a way to relax, increase your observation skills, and just get in tune with a natural place. It reminded me of a project I had heard about several years ago called The Sit Spot. There are various iterations of the idea, but, basically you just go outside some place that is close enough to visit frequently, and you sit. That’s right, sit, for 15 – 30 minutes, or however long you can. It is a place to commune with your surroundings, ideally with no distractions (no phones or cameras, although I do take binoculars). And you observe, listen, think about what you are seeing. When you sit quietly, the world starts to come alive around you. So, Melissa and I have been trying to go out whenever we can and sit in the woods and watch. On a recent weekend, when I was leading a tour down east, she sat and observed some of the goings-on of some of the birds that call these woods home. She later wrote a poem about what she saw. Here it is, with some photos of the birds taken at other times and in other places.
Following the Nuthatch
by Melissa Dowland
When searching for a bird of prey On a fall or winter’s day Never trust the noisy titmice Only the nuthatch will suffice.
The titmouse is a busy soul Forever making a dreadful scold. He flits about the whole day long, Rarely pausing in singing his song.
Tufted titmouse
The busy wren, he too will cry So loud, he calls, though small in size. But he is easily distracted by The lonely squirrel who wanders by.
Carolina wren
So would you like to spot a hawk On your winter hike or walk? Then heed the nuthatch’s nasal cry. For when the hawk his eye does spy
Out rolls his nasal, cranky ‘yank’ Heard over hill and down the bank. The nuthatch is a wise old bird So listen closely to his words.
“There goes the hawk, warn one and all! Oh forest, listen to our call!”
White-breasted nuthatch
So look, oh wanderer, for the source of that sound Up in the trees and on the ground. If you’re lucky you might be blessed If the nuthatch and hawk make you their guest.
Life wants you to have gratitude for the gift of living. Treasure every second.
~ Bryant McGill
The season is about over. It is hard to believe I just finished what is probably my last tour for this winter season at Mattamuskeet and Pocosin Lakes. But, if it is to be the last, at least it was a spectacular one. I was with a wonderful couple from Raleigh that were excited to see everything and learn about the incredible diversity of wildlife in the area. And we got great looks at a lot of species, including a couple of rarities.
Ice on reeds at Lake Mattamuskeet (click photos to enlarge)
We moved up our scheduled time one day to Sunday morning, due to the predicted wintry weather moving into the state on Monday. To be honest, it was wintry already, with low temperatures in the 20’s when we arrived at Mattamuskeet National Wildlife Refuge. And that means ice. It also means active birds, so we were in for a treat.
American bittern in its usual spot
As has been the case most of the winter, there were few birds were along the causeway, probably due to the extremely high water making it too deep for effective feeding by most waterfowl. As we turned into the refuge, things picked up. Right away, I spotted the faithful American bittern hunting in its usual spot next to Wildlife Drive.
Admiring his reflection?
With the high water, the bittern was a bit more exposed as it fed along the edge of the water. That gave us a chance to really admire this beauty.
The bittern’s streaked plumage helps it blend in with its surroundings
I put the scope on it to really be able to see the subtle colors, piercing eye, and greenish-yellow legs of this usually incredibly well-camouflaged marsh inhabitant.
Blonde nutria
A little farther down the road we spied an unusual-looking mammal, a very light-colored nutria. A few other, darker nutria, had greeted us when we first arrived, looking somewhat stunned in the cold weather (these South American imports don’t seem to do well when ice appears). But this little blonde guy had been feeding on the bank in the sunlight, and seemed now to be waiting for us to move on so he could get back to his lunch break. This is the first nutria I have seen with this coat color.
American coot skating on the marsh
Flocks of American coot dotted the canal banks and patches of open water, while others skated on the skim of ice out in the impoundment. You can really appreciate their lobed toes when you see them up on ice.
Common gallinule
A common gallinule was mixed in with the coot near the observation platform. These relatives of rails look similar to coots (especially this juvenile) but can be distinguished by the white stripe along each side, their habit of flicking their tail, and the lack of lobes on their especially long toes. Known to breed in isolated locations in our state, the common gallinule is fairly rare in winter, and this is the first I have seen at Mattamuskeet this year.
Great egret showing off its plumesWhite-tailed deer were out browsing along the edge of the road
The high water had closed the far end of Wildlife Drive, but we got great views of a showy great egret and several deer before turning back.
New Holland Trail partially submerged due to high waterSkim of ice in the swamp along New Holland Trail
We stopped for a short hike along New Holland Trail, one of my favorite spots at Mattamuskeet. Extremely high water and a skim of ice gave the swamp a very different look from my last visit a week ago. I love it when there is ice down here…a different world with new artistry everywhere you look.
Tundra swan lounging in the impoundment
Driving along the back side of the impoundment we watched thousands of ducks lift off when an eagle flew overhead. Another American bittern was standing along the edge of the marsh, and swans, coot, and ducks were feeding in the shallows as the sun started to dip toward the horizon. Then my phone chirped that sound it makes when I get a text message. I glanced at it…a local number, but I didn’t know who…it read least bittern on entrance road!! Whoa, I said, let’s go….but there were cars in front of us, stopping to look at swans and ducks…we waited…another text…where are you? Our volunteers told me you were around. Now I knew, it was my friend, Keith, who works at the refuge. One of the volunteers from the office had apparently spotted the bird, told Keith, and then mentioned that I was at the refuge (we spoke at the visitor center earlier in the day). Keith knew I would be interested in this bird because we had talked about it when someone saw one a few weeks ago. So, thankfully, he texted me with this news while he was photographing it on the other side of Wildlife Drive. A least bittern is not something I see very often. In fact, I have only seen two in all my years of wildlife watching.
Least bittern stands like a statue along the water’s edge
When we finally got over there, I saw Keith out with his camera. We got out, and there it was, in perfect light, standing right next to the road, motionless, like a piece of yard art. What a beautiful bird! I am guessing this is a male because of the dark head and back.
Like their larger cousins, least bitterns have an intense, piercing gaze
Least bitterns are one of the smallest herons in the world, standing only a little over 12 inches tall when stretched out, much smaller than its bulky cousin, the American bittern. The least bittern is usually more difficult to see, because of its small size and its preference for thick vegetation. These diminutive herons often walk through thick marsh vegetation (like cattails), not by wading, but by grasping the grasses with their long toes and striding through the narrow openings between the upright blades, literally sneaking through the grass above the water. This little guy was not bothering with stilt-walking, but was instead on the ground next to some standing water.
It grabs a small killifish
Keith and I crawled around on the edge of the road trying to get a good angle for some photos, while the bittern stood still. It finally moved its head, then went into classic bittern feeding mode. Within a minute of staring at the water, and slowly stretching out and downward, it struck and grabbed a small fish, gulping it down with a quick snap of its beak.
A fine way to wrap up a winter season
I would love it of this bird decides to stick around and nest somewhere in the vicinity. The young bitterns, like many young herons, are fine examples of punk feather-do birds, and I would enjoy a chance to photograph them. Odds are slim though, as they usually hide their nests fairly well in thick marsh vegetation.
The trip ended the next day with icy conditions, muddy roads at Pungo (including a large section closed due to flooding), and relatively few sightings at Pungo (although we did manage some species we did not see at Mattamuskeet – wild turkeys, a snipe, two cooper’s hawks, a sharp-shinned hawk, and a great horned owl).
It has been another very good winter season. While I am sorry to see the swans and snow geese starting to depart, I have many memories to fall back on. And the shifting season means new life just around the corner…spring wildflowers, calling frogs, migrating warblers, and so much more. I can’t wait…and I will back to the wildlife refuges to see what they offer this spring and summer, so, if you are interested in a trip, just contact me.
Over the unlucky school of fish is a bewildering maze of soaring, circling birds, pouring down out of the sky in rapid succession, plunging into the water like so many projectiles and sending columns of water and spray many feet into the air like the spouting of a school of whales.
~Arthur Cleveland Bent, 1922, describing a flock of northern gannets feeding on a school of herring
Last Saturday was one of those days when it all seems to come together. I had a chance to really observe a species that I have wanted to see up close for a long time. What made it all possible was a pelagic birding trip aboard the Stormy Petrel II out of Hatteras. One of my goals for the trip was to observe northern gannets (Morus bassanus) up close and personal. For decades, I have seen them flying and diving off the beach. Over 30 years ago, while working as the East District Naturalist for NC State Parks, I found one dead on Hammocks Beach. I remember being stunned by the beauty and size of the bird I had previously only seen through binoculars. I have since watched them plunge-diving by the hundreds from places like Bald Head Island, and seen some flying nearby while offshore on various boats. But here was a chance, from what I had heard, to spend several hours watching them close to a boat while trying to photograph their flight and dives. I was not disappointed!
Northern gannet at sunrise (click photos to enlarge)
It didn’t take long for a couple of northern gannets to start following our boat as we passed through the inlet just after sunrise. As always, I was struck by their graceful, strong flight, and their striking head colors.
Northern gannets have a distinctive shape and can be identified at great distances
When you see a northern gannet adult from afar, you see a white cross with black wing tips. It is a distinctive shape – pointed at both ends with long, narrow wings. The Peterson Guide to Seawatching pointed out something that surprised me – northern gannets have a wingspan slightly shorter than that of a brown pelican, but longer than a tundra swan! That makes them the largest bird, other than a pelican, you are likely to see off our coast.
Immatures are varying shades of dark brown with lighter splotches and speckling
Of the hundreds of gannets seen, we only had two sightings of the darker-colored immature birds during the trip. Once they leave the nest, these young gannets are believed to stay at sea for at least 3 years before returning to land.
Almost all of the northern gannets off our coast in winter are adult males
One interesting factoid that came up was that field studies the past couple of decades (largely by the late Dave Lee at the NC Museum of Natural Sciences, as reported in his book, Gulf Stream Chronicles) have revealed that almost all of the northern gannets wintering off the Carolina coast are adult males. This was determined by collecting and examining specimens, since the adult plumage of both sexes is basically identical. This has huge implications for conservation and management of this species. Since northern gannets off the Outer Banks in winter can number in the thousands, any ecological disaster in the area, such as an oil spill, could impact a disproportionately large percentage of the breeding population of this species. This is especially true since this species takes 4 to 6 years before reaching breeding age, and they typically lay only one egg per year.
You can only appreciate the blues on their face when you see one up close
One of the great highlights of the trip for me was being able to observe the gannets up close. It is only then that you can clearly see and appreciate the subtle colors of the adult bird’s head. The piercing eyes are lined with a light blue. The large, pointed bill is a blueish-gray color with black lines that outline it, the eye, and extend beyond the gape of the bill onto the neck. The head is tinged in a buff or gold color that varies among individual birds. Gannets have no external nostrils. Close inspection shows a slit-like opening near the base of the bill covered by a flap, which is forced shut over the opening when the bird plunges into the water.
Eye placement presumably gives them binocular vision
The eyes look forward, presumably giving them good binocular vision, an important aid in accurately determining distances when diving after their prey.
Gannet croaking as it flies behind the boat at sunrise
Although believed to be generally silent at sea, many of the birds coming into the chum gave a grating, guttural croak as they maneuvered for position among the other birds.
Two gannets with heads underwater attract a curious pelican
Most of the gannets we observed were diving after the chum being tossed off the stern of the boat, but we did witness them feeding on something different at one point. We passed by two gannets huddled together, heads underwater. They were soon joined by a pelican, who soon stuck his beak into the action.
The pelican joins the fray
I couldn’t quite tell what was going on until one gannet gave up, and the other emerged victorious.
One gannet pulls away with the prize
It turned out one of the gannets had caught a houndfish, a long, skinny member of the needlefish family.
Going…going…gone!
The bird finally won the struggle with its writhing prey and gulped it down.
Northern gannet plunge-diving
To catch their prey, northern gannets perform extraordinary plunge-dives from heights of as much as 100 feet above the ocean. From the shore, I have seen large flocks pelleting the ocean surface after fish in what one person has described as birds machine-gunning into the sea. These birds have special air sacs just under their skin, which one reference likened to bubble wrap under their feathers. This supposedly helps cushion the impact of the striking dives.
Cruising, scanning the water below for preyIf something is spotted, sharp turns or other maneuvers, using the tail and wings, may be necessaryZeroing in on the target at speeds that can approach 54 miles per hourWings folded back against body as the bird hits the water like a feathered spear thrown by the clouds
The anatomy of a typical low altitude dive is presented in the 4 photos above.
I mentioned in my last post that I took more photos on this trip than I ever have in any one day. Part of the reason is the fast frame rate of my camera (10 frames per second) coupled with my desire to capture a sequence of images of a northern gannet plunge dive. So, I took hundreds of images of these birds torpedoing into the water around the boat. Here are just a few more…
I think my favorite is this last one, just before the moment of impact. I observed that many of the divers entered the water at a slight angle, rather than straight down, probably due to the low altitude from which they were spotting the chum, and the abundance of other birds in the air directly above the food. Northern gannets usually dive to relatively shallow depths (10 feet), but can, if needed, dive much deeper (75 feet or so).
Gannet landing on the ocean surface
When not plunging down like arrows shot into the water, the gannets often employed another type of shallow dive. They hover just above the water surface, touch down, and then stick their head and neck underwater.
Gannet doing a shallow dive while landing on the water
Maybe they can’t help themselves and they just have to at least take a look underwater when they land on it.
The gannets took turns diving, then briefly resting on the surfaceTheir lift-off is rather clumsy
As the afternoon continued, the gannets began to alternate between bouts of diving and brief spells of landing on the water. This is how they also often behave during migrations, slowly making their way from the breeding grounds in the far north to feeding areas along the east coast. Now that I have spent a day with the divers, I really want to travel north to see their breeding colonies. There are an estimated 60,000 breeding pairs on Bonaventure Island in Canada, one of the six main breeding sites for North Atlantic northern gannets. What a sight that must be! Until then, I will seek out time with these amazing arrows of the sea anytime I can get it.
You may know the true observer, not by the big things he sees, but by the little things; and then not by the things he sees with effort and premeditation, but by his effortless, unpremeditated seeing—the quick, spontaneous action of his mind in the presence of natural objects.
John Burroughs, 1905
I had the good fortune to do something this past weekend that I have never done – go on a pelagic birding trip off the coast of North Carolina. I went with a group organized by the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences that included some museum staff, educators, and some members of the public interested in birds. The trip was aboard the Stormy Petrel II, a 61 foot charter boat run by Brian Patteson of Seabirding. Though I have been to sea several times on a variety of vessels, this is the first time I have gone off the Outer Banks, and the first time with the primary purpose of seeing birds and other marine life.
A beautiful sunrise to start the day (click photos to enlarge)
The day started early with a gorgeous sunrise, which is a good sign if you are heading offshore in winter. It was cold, and I had put on everything I brought with me, just in case.
Large numbers of double-crested cormorants were starting their day as we headed out
Birds made their presence known even before we left the dock with a sharp-shinned hawk gliding over us as we listened to our orientation for the charter. I was reminded of the incredible abundance of life on our coast as huge numbers (many thousands) of double-crested cormorants began leaving their evening roosts as we departed the dock.
Adult brown pelican in early morning light
A beautiful golden light flooded the scene when the sun cleared the low clouds, making everything glow. Brown pelicans were among the first birds to accompany us as we headed through Hatteras Inlet.
First mate, and birder extraordinaire, Kate, throwing out some chum behind the boat
It didn’t take long to realize that the excellent reputation I had heard for the birding (and other) knowledge of Brian and his crew are well deserved. Brian and his first mate, Kate, both have extensive knowledge of the area and its abundant wildlife. They quickly picked out rarities among the hundreds of birds surrounding us and could do so at incredible distances (on a boat that was rocking fairly significantly at times). The John Burroughs quote above is for the museum staff, and some of the birders aboard, but especially for Brian and Kate. It is always a joy to be out in the field with people that are both knowledgeable about the area, and passionate about what they do.
Birds following the boat
As we got offshore and began to throw chum off the stern, the bird assemblage grew in numbers and diversity. At first it was mainly several species of common gulls, some pelicans, and northern gannets, then some rarities, that are seldom seen from shore, started to accompany us.
Glaucous gull is a new species for me
One of the first was a new species for me, an incredibly beautiful glaucous gull. This large white gull is an immature bird with some faint mottling and a black-tipped bill.
Northern fulmar rocketing by the boat on outstretched wings
Next was a species I had seen a decade ago when I was lucky enough to spend time in the Arctic aboard a Russian icebreaker on a climate research and education mission. Northern fulmars are somewhat gull-like in appearance. They have thicker necks and can be recognized at great distances because of their flight pattern – rapid, stiff wing beats, or long periods of soaring, often in an undulating pattern above the waves, with stiff wings, and often turning with wings held perpendicular to the ocean. They are fast, efficient fliers, built for taking advantage of the uplift from ocean waves. They can be variable in color, but we mainly observed the lighter color form.
Fulmars are one of the tubenoses, recognized by a hollow ridge on top of their bill
Fulmars belong to a group known as tubenoses along with albatrosses, petrels, and storm-petrels. These pelagic species must drink sea water, and therefore are adapted to rid themselves of excess salt via active salt glands. The tubular structures on top of the bill are thought to help direct the excretions from the salt glands away from the eyes. The tubes also play a role in the well-developed sense of smell that these birds use to find food in their vast ocean habitat. A keen olfactory sense is rare among birds, but tubenoses use both sight and smell to locate food. They are known to fly back and forth into the wind tracing the source of a food smell.
Northern fulmars are a long-lived species
Many pelagic species are long-lived and take years to reach breeding age. Northern fulmars may be one of the champions in this regard. They generally do not breed until they are 8-10 years old, and may live 40 or more years. One reason they may live so long is that both chicks and adults have what seems like a very effective deterrent to predators – they can eject a foul-smelling stomach oil up to several feet. This can be particularly effective against avian predators as the oil can mat the feathers together, causing the death of the predatory birds.
At “the change”, where warm waters (bottom) meet colder waters
Not far offshore we reached what the captain called, “the change”, a zone where two water bodies of different temperatures converge. It was immediately noticeable by a distinct line between water of two colors – a brownish tint to the colder inshore waters of about 50+ degrees F, and the clear, blueish-green waters with temperatures around 70 degrees F. This zone creates a concentration of sea life and sea birds.
A flock of razorbills
In addition to the fulmars, we started seeing scattered small flocks of razorbills streaking just above the waves. Razorbills are in the group known as alcids that also includes Atlantic species such as puffins, murres, and dovekies. This group, also known as the auks, all have short, somewhat stiff wings that they use in pursuit diving for their oceanic prey of small fish and marine invertebrates. They tend to fly low over the water with rapid wing beats.
An Atlantic puffin
We did see a few Atlantic puffins, although most at a bit of a distance. A few kept leaping out of the water, flying low for a short distance, and then plunging back into the waves. The abundance of gulls, especially larger predatory species such as great black-backed gulls, was apparently enough to make these small birds very nervous about being exposed on the surface.
Black-capped petrel
At one point a shout went out from the bridge – “black-capped petrel off starboard”. This is a species not often seen this close to shore, so it was a great find on our cruise.
Sooty shearwater
We also saw a couple of shearwaters, another type of tubenose. A manx shearwater made a quick pass and a sooty shearwater stayed with us for several minutes, joining the feeding flock behind the boat. They exhibit what is called dynamic soaring, alternating between arcing above the water and dipping and soaring just above the wave tops (“shearing” off the top of the water).
One of several loggerhead sea turtles we saw
The abundance of life in this zone included many species other than birds. We saw several sharks, including a couple of very large hammerheads, plus a number of sea turtles.
Ocean sunfish fin sticking out of the water
A highlight for many was the appearance of a huge ocean sunfish, Mola mola. These bizarre-looking fish are the largest of bony fishes in the sea, reaching up to ten feet in length and 5000 pounds.
Atlantic spotted dolphin next to the boatThe dolphins enjoyed riding the bow wave
While cruising back and forth within sight of the Diamond Shoals Light, we were entertained by a pod of Atlantic spotted dolphins, Stenella frontalis. These beautiful creatures of the Gulf Stream frolicked next to the boat for many minutes, riding the bow wave and occasionally leaping out of the water to the excited shouts of everyone (even those that were experiencing the scourge of rough waters, seasickness).
Look who is coming aboard!
We also had a close encounter of the pouched kind…a juvenile brown pelican landed on the top deck of the boat and sat up there for quite some time before flopping down on the head of someone trying to recover from her queasiness on the rocking boat.
This pelican hitched ride with us for a couple of hours
Kate helped the bird off the boat not once, but twice before it got the message that this cruise was for paying passengers only. It was an incredible adventure for everyone. The museum staff had prepared everyone well for the journey with information on hat to bring and how to best avoid seasickness. They also had given great information on some of the species we might expect to see. I ended up taking more photographs than I ever have in one day, many taken while trying to capture the amazing dives of the elegant northern gannets that accompanied us all day (more on that in the next post). For more information on the trip, including a species list, you can visit Brian’s blog. For a good overview of the importance of this area to marine life, I highly recommend the book, Gulf Stream Chronicles, by the late Dave Lee, an ornithologist at the NC Museum of Natural Sciences. Dave worked for years helping to document the bird life and other marine species found off the Outer Banks and helping reveal how rich this ecosystem is in ocean life. Below are just a few more images from an amazing day in the critically important waters off our coast.
Juvenile brown pelican landing behind boatBrown pelican in the golden glow of sunriseCommon loonA dolphin surfaces next to the boatThis glaucous gull followed us most of the dayNorthern fulmar riding the wind above the wavesBlack-legged kittiwakeMass of birds feeding on chum behind the boatNorthern gannet (more on this species in my next post)