March 2010 – Page 3 – Seabrooke Leckie

The bold and the beautiful

We’ve had a string of beautiful weather the last few days. Mild temperatures, jacket optional, no toque required. Sunday was by far the nicest, though. A repeat photo of Saturday’s, only better. Note the shoved-up sleeves, bare head. I could probably even have ditched the vest and been fine. Although the thermometer suggested it was warmer today, Sunday afternoon the sun was shining and there was a lovely warm breeze blowing – you know, the sort that caresses your skin, rather than nipping at it. It really felt like a small gift from April, a promise of things to come.

The temptation was enough to get the boldest of the insects out of bed for a look-see. Although I still didn’t see many out in the fields or woods, there were quite a number climbing up the west side of the house in the afternoon. Most numerous by far were the flies. As far as I could tell, there were two types – the greenbottle above, and a gray one that might have been the same species I photographed in March last year, though I didn’t get a photo of the latter to be able to confirm.

I saw a couple of Polistes paper wasps, probably P. fuscatus, the Northern Paper Wasp. I wrote a bit about the life cycle of paper wasps in one of my early posts here, a little over two years ago now. The colony spends the whole summer growing in size in order to eventually produce a crop of new queen wasps in the fall. These young queens mate and then overwinter, while the old queen and all the workers die at the end of the fall. Come spring, the wasps you see emerging are these mated queens, looking to start new colonies. They’ll find a good spot (old nests are never reused) and start building a new nest, laying eggs and provisioning the developing young themselves until enough workers have grown up to be able to take over the duties.

Spiders have been everywhere. They’re so far the only invertebrate I’ve seen active out in the meadows. I’ve seen a few species, and I don’t know what any of them are. I don’t think they’re the same ones I saw on the snow in the winter, but I could be wrong about that. They skitter over the grasses and dead vegetation, and they were dashing about on the foundation of the house. Just little small guys, less than half a centimetre (1/4″) long.

I also saw a Boxelder Bug on the foundation, but it disappeared around a corner and I couldn’t relocate it. I’ve encountered these guys before, on a maple tree at my parents’ old house. At the time I noted that they supposedly would invade homes to find overwintering sites the same way that ladybugs do, but I’d never seen them indoors. Still haven’t, but at least the one this weekend was actually on the house.

Both Saturday and Sunday I was tempted into putting out my mercury vapour lamp to see if there were any moths out and about, woken up by the spring-like character of the day. (When Dan asked what I’d been doing outside and I told him, he said “You really like moths, don’t you? I mean, you don’t just like them, you really like them.” Yes, yes I do.) Saturday wasn’t quite warm enough, and I didn’t get anything. I brought the bulb inside after a couple hours. Sunday, however, I had three – three! – moths come to the house. And not just little micro guys, either. These were all macromoths, big species at least as large as your thumbnail. (Hey, in the world of moths, that counts as large).

The one above was the very first one to arrive. It’s one of the beautiful chunky sallows I was hoping for. In fact, this one was a new species for me. It’s a Goat Sallow, Homoglaea hircina, a species of the northern woods – the Carolinian, Great Lakes-St Lawrence, and Boreal forests (I haven’t mapped this one yet, but I’m getting really good at interpreting written range descriptions…) – where its caterpillars feed on aspen and poplars. It’s a super-early flyer, the overwintering adults out and about in March and April, as soon as the snow starts melting back from the ground. So not a surprise to see it, and perhaps funny that I hadn’t encountered it before.

And the second moth here is a Grote’s Pinion. This one’s found through most of the northeast, and feeds on a variety of tree species. They’re usually encountered among the last of the moths in the fall, and again with the first of the moths in the spring. Like the Goat Sallow, they overwinter as adults and are quick to take advantage of warm weather.

The third moth I saw fluttering in the eaves of the front porch overhang, but wasn’t able to relocate it when I came back with my long-handled butterfly net to try to reach it.

Judging from the weather forecast, that looks like it might be it for moths for at least the next week or so. A tantalizing hint of things to come!

Sunday Snapshot – Sharp-shinned Hawk

My parents were up today for a visit; we were going to “Seedy Sunday”, a seed exchange/sale held by the Perth Farmer’s Market. I didn’t check where it was being held yesterday, and naturally this morning our internet went down. As we were wandering around downtown Perth trying to figure out where the event was taking place, a low-flying Sharp-shinned Hawk swooped by, carrying something. It banked and landed in a tree across the street, so I stealthily made my way over, pulling the little point-and-shoot camera from my purse that I now carry for just such emergencies (it was a spare my dad had and offered to me – very grateful, thank you, Dad!).

Couldn’t quite tell what the prey item was, besides simply a bird, and was unable to blow it up once it was on the computer as I hadn’t realized the photo size was set to a lower resolution. My first guess was Blue Jay, since it looks a little too slim to be a pigeon, and the tail’s not the right shape for a Mourning Dove, and I can’t think of anything else that large that’s pale like that around at this time of year. The dark band across the end of the tail puzzles me, though. Maybe it is a pigeon, after all. Birds always look smaller in death.

Spring on the air

As forecasted, it was a lovely mild day today. The sun was shining brightly in a clear sky, and there was hardly a breath of wind. You could almost smell the scent of promised spring on the air. This same weekend last year we had a mild spell, as well. It wasn’t quite as warm as last year’s, but it was still a beautiful day to be outside. I walked with Raven to the back of the property, through the open fields where I could luxuriate in the warmth of the sun.

I stopped and checked out the open patches under the trees and around rocks, where the snow was already melted and the ground exposed, looking to see if there were any insects out and about today. I found none, although I did see quite a few spiders, little tiny black ones that skittered over the folded blades of grass, gone from sight practically even before being seen. It’s still a bit early for insects, really. My first good day of insects was March 17 last year.

At the back of the property it gets a bit Shield-y, with juniper shrubs and small bare rock domes. One of these spots, alongside a clump of cedar, has a great flat-sided rock that’s perfect for leaning up against and enjoying the sun. I spent some time there before heading back to the house. I probably didn’t even need the toque today, except you know if you leave it behind then the wind will pick up and your ears will be feeling nipped by the time you get back inside.

Last year, that night we had a moth come in to our outdoor light, the first one of the year. This evening I put my moth light out at dusk, just on the off chance that the warm afternoon sun had stirred anyone out of their winter slumber. I might not have bothered had we not had the handful turn up at the porch lights earlier in the week, since it was slightly cooler today than last year. I turned it off again after an hour or two with no moths.

——————-

Speaking of moths. The fabulous (if I do say so myself) blog carnival The Moth and Me starts up again this month after a winter hiatus to allow the moths a chance to rest. The host for March will be Jason of Xenogere. Pick your favourite moth (or moth caterpillar) themed post from the last few months (or earlier, if you don’t have anything recent – which may be the case for many of us more northern folk), and send it to Jason (Jason -at- xenogere -dot- com) before March 13 (just one more parentheses just ’cause).

First Friday at Wildbird

Back in January, Clare of The House and Other Arctic Musings brought to my attention a short story contest held monthly over at Wildbird on the Fly, the blog of Wildbird magazine‘s editor Amy. Winners get all the glory of having their story posted on the ‘net, plus also their choice of three or four bird-themed book. I just won the March contest, and selected Bright Wings by Billy Collins and David Allen Sibley, a compilation of bird poetry accompanied by Sibley’s artwork. Two of my favourite poems are about birds. I’d like to learn some more.

Incidentally, the Wildbird blog is worth checking out, if you don’t already know of it. Amy posts regular and interesting news stories and other updates on birds.

I thought I’d share my March entry here. It had to be 500 words or less, and, of course, about birds.

.
Distraction

Ben sat at his desk in his cubicle, one hand on his mouse, the other propping up his chin as he looked wistfully out the windows on the other side of the aisle. They looked out over the parking lot to undeveloped shrubby land beyond. In the distance was the broad blue ribbon of the river. He liked to look toward it, imagining that he was walking the riverside trail with his binocular around his neck.

It was one of those beautiful June days, where the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the temperature was neither too hot nor too cold. He didn’t mind his desk job during the winter months, and in the heat of mid-summer, he appreciated being in the air-conditioned environment, but on perfect days like this, he sometimes wished he worked outdoors. He found it hard to focus on what he was doing and his productivity dropped right off on nice days.

He was staring out the window when Janet, a coworker who sat on the other side of the cubicle wall from him, returned from her lunch break. She dropped her stuff on her desk and immediately peered over the top of the wall. She looked distraught.

“Ben, I think I hit a bird!” she wailed.

“Where? On the road? Well, they do tend to fly across at the last minute, it’s not always possible to-”

“No! Here in the parking lot. I got out of my car, and there was this bird flopping around on the ground. I didn’t know what to do! Do you think you could come look at it?”

She didn’t have to ask Ben twice — any excuse to get outside. He knew of a rehabber ten minutes away they could take the bird to if needed.

He followed Janet out to the parking lot. There was a conference today, and the lot was unusually full. She’d had to park at the far side, where the paved lot gave way to a band of gravel and melted in to the shrubby field beyond. There was a small bush right by her car, and he wondered if maybe a kingbird had been flycatching.

They were half a dozen meters from the car when there was a sudden explosion of movement from the gravel edging. A brown-and-white bird, about the size of a robin, dashed onto the pavement in front of them and started flopping around wildly, looking indeed like its wing was broken.

“Is that the bird?” Ben had trouble suppressing a laugh.

“Yes! That’s it! Can you help?”

“Perhaps…”

He walked to the gravel and took a quick look around. Sure enough, perfectly camouflaged among the stones were four speckled eggs.

“One of those ‘Wet Floor’ tripods and a laminated sign ought to do the trick,” he said to a confused Janet.

He pointed out the eggs and, on the way back to the building, told her all about Killdeer.

———-

(Killdeer – in coloured pencil; I bought myself a set of artist’s quality coloured pencils at Christmas, and decided to try them out using a photo Jason of Xenogere had posted about that time as inspiration. I like their potential, but there’ll be a bit of a learning curve ahead to make the most of it.)

First moth(s) of 2010!

Yesterday was a beautifully mild day, the sort that says spring is on the way, even if it’s not quite here just yet. There was still a nip to the air, but the gorgeous sunshine made you forget it was there. I could have sworn the temperature must have reached at least 8 or 9 °C (~47 °F) but weather.ca’s records indicate it only reached 5.5 in the nearby town where the temperature is recorded. Amazing what a little bit of sun can do.

The birds were feeling spring in the air; the chickadees were singing in the trees around the feeders, as were the American Tree Sparrows; I heard a Downy Woodpecker calling, and from across the street our Man in Red was doing his “cheer! cheer! whit whit whit whit!”

Still, by sundown the temperature had fallen to nearly freezing again. I’ve been checking the porch lights hopefully for the last week or so whenever I go out to get wood, but it’s always too cold. Last night being no different, I naturally assumed that when Dan called me down (“Moth alert!”) he meant one of the little jobbies who’ve been hanging around inside the house over the winter, the ones too small to be able to identify without counting genital bristles or something equally obscure.

But no, he meant actual moths! Honest-to-goodness, free-range outdoor moths! The temperature had continued to fall and by that hour had reached -4 °C (25 °F). What the heck these little guys were doing out and about at that temperature is beyond me, but there they were. I scrambled for a few of my moth jars, which were still tucked away in the basement, collected them up and brought them in out of the cold. I put them in the fridge where it was a relatively (for them) balmy 4 °C (39 °F) (or so; there’s no thermostat in our fridge to tell you the temperature. But it’s above freezing, anyway).

This morning I took them out, did my best to get photos (these little tiny micro-moths are such a headache to photograph, because they have really low volume:surface area ratios, meaning that they warm up a lot faster than the chunky-bodied macro-moths. And clearly these species were fairly cold-tolerant in the first place. I couldn’t get one of them to cooperate at all and had to photograph it through the plastic jar), and then released them on the porch in the sun where they could warm up and fly off to someplace to spend the night.

The first three moths are all the same species, and it was one of these that Dan noticed and called me down for. The other moths were spotted after I came out to collect the first one. I had a reasonable idea on the approximate taxonomic area it belonged to, but when I searched the species in that group on the online identification pages at Moth Photographers Group, I couldn’t see anything that was a good match. So I submitted one of the photos to BugGuide.net and got a prompt response that it was simply a “lightly-marked” example of an Inornate Semioscopis, Semioscopis inornata.

The fourth and final moth was in a closely related but different genus, Agonopterix. They have a distinctive squareish shape, so I knew where this one belonged right away, and it was easy enough to find an ID for it. I believe this one is A. clemensella, which I don’t think has an official common name, but which I’ve unofficially called Clemens’s Agonopterix in my records (remembering complicated Latin names with unfamiliar spellings and letter groupings is not a skill I was blessed with, so I give moths an English label if they don’t have one already, even if it’s only for my own use). This was a new Agonopterix for me, but that’s not a great surprise; there are 30 or so Agonopterix species in North America, and I’ve seen just a handful.

So I was pretty stoked at this event, finally seeing moths at the light after a long three and a half months of mothlessness. Although I won’t really consider the moth season to have started until I get a big macro to the light. Nothing against the micro-moths. But there’s just something about a chunky sallow…