good-bye 2010

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We'll close out 2010 with a look at the bird that became the symbol of the biggest environmental story of the old year: the brown pelican.

The Gulf Oil Spill impacted hundreds of coastal species, but perhaps none more visible than this one. By mid-summer, 58 percent of all dead or injured birds collected by rescuers were brown pelicans, a bird that had just been removed from the federal endangered species list last year. Louisiana felt the greatest impact from the oil spill. Pre-disaster, the state played host to between 8,000 and 16,000 breeding pairs of these birds. How many will be there this spring?

Time will tell.

Last spring, Wayne Mallinger sent me this photo of an "oil-free" brown pelican he took in 2009 on a visit. No one knows if this bird is still alive.

Thanks for sharing, Wayne.

- Photo of oil-free brown pelican by Wayne Mallinger

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chupacabra?

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Let's file this under "Shoot first; ask questions later." And it goes to illustrate just why visitors from other worlds—if they exist—do not present themselves readily, especially if they look a little different and happen to be hairless.

It has been reported that a Kentucky man recently killed a hairless unknown creature that happened to stumble out of the woods into his front yard. The mysterious creature was apparently gunned down because the homeowner "didn't know what it was."

Can someone call Scully and Mulder? As Fox was apt to say, "The truth is out there." Or in this case, "was out there." Now the truth is prostrate on a stainless steel autopsy table.

With a nod to Linda Ellerbee, "And so it goes."

For more information go to Chupacabra.

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natural histories: Sycamore Shoals

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"While at the site I walked down to the river to see if there were still any sycamores at Sycamore Shoals. Like any other riverbank in the valley, there were several. The largest one I located couldn’t be measured because it leaned out over the water. From the two or three I was able to get a tape around, I’d estimate the big one to be over 12 feet in circumference. But, these trees are anonymous; they grow quietly along the shoreline out of the limelight. If you ask anyone that works or volunteers at the state park, they’ll tell you the most famous sycamore at the site is the 30-year-old “Moon Tree” planted inside the stockade.

Sycamores had long been rallying points. Before the American Revolution, colonial patriots designated a large tree in each colony as a 'Liberty Tree,' secret meeting places, to gather and plot against the British. Many of these special sites were sycamores because in those early days they were giants. Their massive girth made them the largest deciduous hardwoods in North America. In 1802, François Michaux found an aged sycamore on the bank of the Ohio River, 36 miles from Marietta, that measured an astonishing 47 feet in circumference. Michaux and his botanist father André traveled extensively throughout the east in the 1700s and early 1800s. They were studying and collected items of natural history, particularly trees."


Excerpt from Natural Histories published by the University of Tennessee Press

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where are my books?

•

Just received word that Ghost Birds has made it half way around the world. At least I think the National Taiwan University Library is on the opposite side of the planet.



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dusting

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The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.


- by poet Robert Frost.

It snowed in the valley yesterday.
A dusting of a white Christmas.

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feliz navidad

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Poinsettia native to Central America on a bed of yellowing ginko leaves native to China photographed in East Tennessee. Small world.

Feliz navidad.

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the hollies

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(the trees not the British rock group from the '60s.)

European holly, Ilex aquifolium

American holly, Ilex opaca

Festive hollies have been a part of year-end celebrations and rituals for centuries.

For early Christians, the prickly leaves of Christmas holly were a symbol of the crown of thorns worn by Christ at the time of his crucifixion; the red berries represented the drops of blood shed for humanity’s salvation. It is believed by some that wood from a holly tree was used to make the cross. This is possible since European holly, Ilex aquifolium, is a species native to western and southern Europe, northwest Africa and southwest Asia. In fact, some scholars think that the word, “holly” is simply a corruption of “holy."

In the Old Country, the holly tree was once called the “holy tree.” The word holiday itself is apparently an Old English derivative of the term “holy day,” a day of religious festival that dates back to the 14th century.

When the Pilgrims landed in Massachusetts in late November 1620, they saw American holly growing in the nearby forest, and we assume were reminded of their own Old World holly. The two are closely related, although the Old World variety has more brilliant green leaves and redder fruit. (This is hard to believe.)

American holly, Ilex opac, is native along the East Coast from Massachusetts to northern Florida; consequently, all early settlers in their first century as “strangers in a strange land” were able to continue their Christmas holly tradition in their new home.

Happy Holly Days.

American holly range map

•

two finches

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And neither one is named Atticus.

For the sake of comparison, on the left is the native to the east, purple finch, and for the sake of argument, let's call it raspberry. On the right, the native to the west but now transported across the country to be widespread, the boorish house finch, once sold in pet stores under the sobriquet of "Hollywood" finch. Wouldn't that make you want to buy one?

Note: on the house finch the cherry red is frontal appearing more on the face and the streaks on the flanks are dark; on the purple finch the color is more raspberry and spreads over the entire head and flows softly down the upper back; the streaks on the flanks, if present, are reddish.

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raspberry blush

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Settling in, focusing on a chickadee on a nearby branch, Canon Rebel in hand, getting ready to fire off a few shots when I noticed through the viewfinder a red flash move into the background.

"My God. Could it be?" A purple finch, Carpodacus purpureus, well more raspberry than true purple, but definitely not the cherry red of a house finch and there are no streaks on its flanks. No boorishness. No attitude.

The purple finch population has declined in recent decades, displaced by the later day usurpers, imported house finches, insolent really, that were brought to the eastern U.S. from the western U.S. and sold as caged birds, that is up until the time it was made illegal in the 1940s.

I haven't seen a purple finch in awhile and never, no never, have I seen one with my camera poised and ready to go. If only it will hold still long enough.

Oh, yes, yes, show us that raspberry rump, that pink blush draped over your shoulders. Yes. Beautiful.



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ghost birds: out of cash

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"Because he was running out of cash, Jim left the swamp and drove west to Fort Myers. During his entire three-year journey through the South, his Audubon grant money was wired to him periodically as he traveled from place to place. On this occasion, however, the money had not arrived at Fort Myers, and Tanner found himself almost broke. He took a part-time job helping refurbish a motor yacht, scrapping barnacles off the hull."


Excerpt from Ghost Birds: Jim Tanner and the Quest for the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, 1931-1941


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panache

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Not to be outdone by the male, what a female cardinal lacks in dazzle, she makes up with style. Who needs dazzle when you have panache such as she?


- Photo taken at Ijams Nature Center

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breath of a buffalo

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What is life?

It is the flash of a firefly in the night,

It is the breath of a buffalo in the winter time.

It is the little shadow which runs across the grass

and loses itself in the sunset.

- Crowfoot, or Issapóómahksika, Native American, chief of the Siksika Nation

I've used this same quote, same place before.
There's something about that tree standing alone, watching, isolated against

whatever comes its way season after season.

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where are my books?

•

Being an author is an odd odd sort of avocation. You spend years and years, working in private: researching, reading, thinking, scribbling, marking through and scribbling yet again. And then, somehow, your babies are born. You often find yourself wondering: Where do they go? Have they found a good home? Or are they languishing in a used bookstore? Or, God forbid, a remainder bin, sold for 50 cents a pound. (An author's nightmare.)

To that end, if you have a copy of one of my books, send me a photo and sate my curiosity.

Recently I heard from noted wildlife photographer Roy Brown. Click here for his complete post.



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late bloomer

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Now that cold weather has seized the valley, you might think the flowering season is over. Yet, there is one stubborn shrub found throughout the east that is a “late bloomer.” That tardy, tenacious plant is witch hazel or in some places it’s known as “winterbloom” for obvious reasons.

One of these delayed delights grows near my office at the nature center. I’ve been watching it closely for weeks, beginning in October and through November, as the leaves turned from green to yellow and then dropped off. During this time, the small flower buds slowly grew. December arrived and the bare shrub looked dormant, except for its embryonic blossoms. And then finally, the first flowers began to open.

The yellow spiderlike blossoms are sparse; each has only four twisted threadlike petals. They look something like a cheerleader’s pompom that has lost most of its pom. This meagerness has a purpose. There’s less surface area to lose water; a real concern of plants active in the dry humidity of winter. (Pine needles are thin for the same reason.) And by blooming now, witch hazel has no competition for the few flying insect pollinators that are out and about on a sunny winter’s day.

You might wonder: Where's the witch in witch hazel? Well its origin comes from the Middle English wiche rooted in the old English wice meaning "pliant" or "bendable." Its supple wood was once used for dowsing, i.e. looking for water hidden below ground with a flexible fork of wood, a bewitching process also know as water-witching.

- Photo taken at Ijams Nature Center

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natural histories: West Nile virus

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UPDATE:

Early in my book Natural Histories, I report on West Nile virus. In fact, I close the chickadee chapter by saying, “At this point, no one knows what the long-term affect of West Nile virus will be on chickadees or other birds. Recent loses may just be a temporary blip on the radar. It may be commonplace for their population to fluctuate.”

I wrote that in 2003. Seven years later we can breathe a collective sigh of relief. The avian epidemic—it can also infect horses and humans—has slowly lost its punch.

The most recent issue of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s BirdScope reports that “West Nile virus hit American crows particularly hard. When the disease first appeared in New York City, in summer 1999, nearly 5,500 crows died in four months. Tests suggested the disease was 100 percent fatal to crows. Many other species, from jays and magpies to gulls and chickadees, also proved susceptible. Millions of birds died as West Nile swept across the continent in just five years.”

Ten years later: “In a new analysis of the virus’s effects on American crows, Cornell Lab researches learned that West Nile virus became less virulent as it raced westward across North America. They also found that crows in diverse habitats were less likely to come down with the disease than crows in species-poor areas.”

This suggests that habitats with a high bio-diversity are better able to mitigate the pathogen’s effects, diluting it so to speak.

From the point of view of the virus—and admittedly, that's a narrow point of view—it's not advantageous if your host dies. Host dies, virus dies. It's counterproductive, particularly if the infected host dies so quickly that the pathogen has not had time to jump to a new one. It's better if the sickened carrier lives and moves about so that the virus can spread and spread and spread, to an increasing number of new hosts.

Crows breathe sigh of relief: their populations are

recovering from affects of West Nile virus.

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cerulean blues

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Exquisitely blue. Some might say "heavenly," as perhaps should I.

If you are one of those reading Jonathan Franzen's new book Freedom—and it seems like many of the people I know are or have already read it—then this is the marvelous species at the center of environmentalist Walter's concerns.

Rightly so.

The cerulean warbler is declining faster than any other warbler species in the United States; some report that its population is only one-fifth of what it was just 40 years ago, that is everywhere except in the Cumberland Mountains of East Tennessee. There, the diminutive songbird seems to be holding its own, at least for now.

What is going right there, that's going wrong elsewhere?

I proudly work with naturalist Emily Boves at Ijams Nature Center. Emily has assisted her husband Than with a cerulean warbler study the past six years. Dennis McCarthy (yet another friend of Ijams) recently penned an article in UT's Quest magazine about the declining warbler and some of Than Boves' findings. For the link, go here: cerulean.

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number one

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Somehow, in gray winter, male cardinals perch above it all. A shock to the senses. Their red startles, transcending the drabness. Better still, they defy it. And despite their obviousness, their in-your-faceness, they thrive.

Karen Sue located the most recent numbers for Cornell's Project Feederwatch: Southeast region. The Northern Cardinal was the most tallied species in last year's count occurring at 96 percent of the reporting sites.

Here's the complete Top Ten for this region which includes Tennessee.

1. Northern Cardinal
2. Mourning Dove
3. Carolina Chickadee
4. American Goldfinch
5. Blue Jay
6. Tufted Titmouse
7. Carolina Wren
8. Red-bellied Woodpecker
9. House Finch
10. American Robin

The above photo comes from my friend Wayne Mallinger, who is at home recovering from surgery. Thankfully, there's enough happening just outside at his feeders that prevents him from having to put his camera away.

Thanks, Wayne. Get well soon.

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where are my books?

•

Being an author is an odd odd sort of avocation. You spend years and years, working in private: researching, reading, thinking, scribbling, marking through and scribbling yet again. And then, some how, your babies are born. You often find yourself wondering: Where do they go? Have they found a good home? Or are they languishing in a used bookstore? Or, God forbid, a remainder bin, sold for 50 cents a pound. (An author's nightmare.)

To that end, if you have a copy of one of my books, send me a photo and sate my curiosity.

Here's one that found its way to Beaver Creek located in Amherst, Ohio (The Beaver Creek Watershed is the largest watershed located entirely within Lorain County, Ohio and actually flows directly into Lake Erie).

This copy of Ghost Birds is owned by Matt Nahorn.

Thanks, Matt. Love. Love. Love this photo!

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females are confusing

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Yes, females can be confusing. Looking through my photos of the past few months I discovered this one from September.

It appears to be two different species of swallowtail but looks can be deceiving. Female eastern tiger swallowtails can either be blue or yellow. Why is this? Are they mimicking the unpalatable spicebush swallowtails. The above photo is either a male and a female or two females. The key to identification of the yellow females is the presence of blue on the hind wings.

Male eastern tiger swallowtail

Female eastern tiger swallowtail

(yellow form: note blue on hind wings)

Female eastern tiger swallowtail (blue form)

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sandhill hunting in Tennessee?

•


BLOGGERS: PLEASE PASS THIS POST ALONG TO OTHERS.

I ask you: What's wrong with this photo? Study it closely.

Well, for starters, the beautiful powder-gray sandhill crane is dead!

And somehow, a dead sandhill is much less precious than a live one, because its life is what we celebrate. In many parts of the world cranes are revered as "Birds from Heaven." Killing one is a dishonor, a harbinger of ill fortune. Peter Matthiessen writes, "Outside the Hall of Supreme Harmony, two noble bronze cranes awaited me on the high terrace; the most famous crane statues in the world, they originally stood guard on either side of the emperor's throne in the imperial palace as symbols of long life and good fortune, and like most creatures depicted in Chinese art, they are beautiful."

North America has two species of cranes: the large white five-foot-tall whooping crane and the smaller, four-foot-tall, sandhill. I've written about sandhill cranes before. Historically, there once was a large population that migrated from breeding grounds in the north (primarily Wisconsin) to wintering grounds (wetlands and marshes) in the south. During the spring and fall they passed through Tennessee. But that population was overhunted. By the 1930s, only 25 breeding pairs were recorded in Wisconsin. Seeing one pass through the Volunteer State was a rare occurrence.

Through "compassionate" conservation efforts—saying "no, no" to hunters and creating wildlife refuges—the eastern migratory flock has slowly rebounded. But it's taken 70 years: one man's lifetime.

Hurray for our side! We can do the right thing! Right a wrong! Save the day!

East Tennessee got into the act in the late 1980s by planting up to 750-acres of corn annually at Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge in Meigs County. The sandhills stopped and liked the buffet to such an extent that thousands of them decided to spend the winter. That's good old Tennessee hospitality, never let a stranger pass without offering him a meal. Our man-made bounty was so plentiful, the cranes had no need to fly farther south. Over the years the sandhill numbers grew. Life was good. It was such a wondrous sight that watching them became an attractant to birdwatchers, curiosity-seekers and passing tourists. A sandhill crane festival was created, and the event became a high point of every cold, dreary February. (Birding festivals across the country draw thousands of visitors. Thousands.) I attended the sandhill festival at Hiwassee many times and enjoyed every one.

But wait. The growing sandhill crane population has been deemed a problem. The festival terminated. And the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency (TWRA)—the governing body for all wildlife in our state—is being pressured to open a hunting season on the cranes.

Say what?

We plant corn. We thrill at the sight of thousands of cranes eating that corn, we turn it into a tourist attraction and now we want to hide in the tall grass and shoot them. (The cranes, not the tourists.)

True they are large birds, easy targets for even novice marksmen but where is the sport? Wouldn't it be better to stop planting the corn and let the sandhills migrate farther south as they once did? Most of them would end up in Florida, a state that understands tourism and gladly accepts the dollars it generates. (Florida already hosts 18 birding festivals a year—see the list below—and would probably savor another one honoring our sandhills. They could call it the "Tennessee Doesn't Want You, but We Do Festival.")

If our state wants something for target practice, wouldn't it be better to shoot European starlings? There are thousands of them. They are a true nuisance. And there would be real sport in shooting one of the agile little buggers. Or if that's a bit too tricky, how about Canada geese? They are also big bulls eyes and even a problem in many urban areas and there's already a hunting season in Tennessee for the fat and sassy grass-eaters.

TWRA has been put in a awkward position: part of their supporters are hunters, part are outdoor enthusiasts like birdwatchers; but the latter faction needs to stand up and be heard.

If sandhill crane hunting in Tennessee does not make sense to you, write a letter to voice your opposition. I MEAN it! Do not put this off, or the photo at the top of this page will become a reality.

Here are the addresses:

Michael Chase, TWRC Chairperson/PO Box 50370/Knoxville, TN 37950 email: mike.chase@tn.gov

James Fyke, Commissioner, TDEC/21st Floor, L&C Tower/401 Church St./Nashville, TN 37243

Dr. Jeff McMillan/1705 Edgemont Ave./Bristol, TN 37620 email: jeff.mcmillin@tn.gov

Mr. Terry Oliver, Commissioner, TN Dept. of Agriculture/Ellington Agricultural Center/PO Box 40627/Nashville, TN 37204

Eric Wright/1587 Highway 91/Elizabethton, TN 37643 email: eric.wright@mapeswire.com


Annual Florida Birding Festivals:

1. Everglades Birdfest: Everglades National Park: January

2. Big “O” Birding Festival: Glades and Hendry Counties: January, three day event

3. Southwest Florida Birding Festival: Rookery Bay, Naples: January

4. Space Coast Birding & Wildlife Festival: Titusville: January, five day event

5. Burrowing Owl Festival: Cape Coral: February

6. Orlando Wetlands Park Festival: Christmas, FL: February

7. Suwannee River Valley Birding Festival: White Springs: March

8. Pelican Island Wildlife Festival: Sebastian, FL: March

9. Goby Fest: St. Sebastian River Preserve State Park, Fellsmere: April

10. Wakulla Wildlife Festival: Wakulla Springs: April

11. Welcome Back Songbirds Festival: Titusville: April

12. Welcome Back Songbirds Festival: Brooksville: April

13. Pinewoods Bird Festival: Pebble Hill Plantation: April

14. Florida’s First Coast Birding and Nature Festival: St. Augustine: April

15. Nature Coast Birding and Wildlife Experience: Cedar Key: September

16. Florida Keys Birding & Wildlife Festival: Marathon, FL: September

17. “Ding” Darling Days: Sanibel Island: October

18. Florida Panhandle Birding and Wildflower Festival: Port St. Joe: October

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i thank

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i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

happy thanksgiving


lines of poetry by e.e. cummings

painting by karen sue webster

thanks shared by those smart enough to be thankful
for what they have


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late orb

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Another late-season find: an orb-weaver's woven orb. Let's hope it catches a meal after all this work but if it does, it could be one of its last. Most adult spiders die before winter arrives.

It is estimated that there are over 10,000 species of orb-weaving spiders worldwide. Just think about it Rikki, ten thousand creatures that can create these beautiful macramé nets that, in truth, only last but a few hours. Strong yet ethereal. Most of these eight-legged, eight-eyed weavers eat their webs at the end of day—it's pure protein, so why not?— and then reweave another one in usually the same location. That is, we assume, if it proved to be an opportunistic site.

By redoing it every day, the web stays free of detritus and the sticky strands stay tacky. To quote the Bard, it’s almost, “Too flattering-sweet to be substantial,” as light and airy as Romeo’s nighttime dream. Yet for a flying insect, it's a viscous nightmare.

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late-season flutter-by

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What a wonderful mild day. I encountered a late-season butterfly—the common buckeye (Junonia coenia)—on a walk at Mead's Quarry. Buckeyes prefer broad open spaces and are generally found on the ground or low growing plants.

In the deep South—Florida and along the Gulf Coast, plus in the Caribbean—buckeyes are active all year. During the warm months they can migrate north as far as southern Canada.

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where are my books?

•

Being an author is an odd odd sort of avocation. You spend years and years, working in private: researching, reading, thinking, scribbling, marking through and scribbling yet again. Staring into space. Scratching your head. Beating your head against the wall. And then, some how, your babies are born. You often find yourself wondering: Where do they go? Have they found a good home? Or are they languishing in a used bookstore? Or, God forbid, a remainder bin. (An author's nightmare.)

To that end, if you have a copy of one of my books, send me a photo and sate my curiosity.

Here's one that found its way to the Savannah in Tennessee.

Mike Martin from Savannah is a professional forester and has been a member of the Society of American Foresters since 1967. He worked with Dr. Geoff Hill as an information systems coordinator at the Choctawhatchee ivory-bill site and has also visited with Gene Sparling in Arkansas at the scene of the Gallagher/Harrison sighting.

Thanks, Mike.

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how did I get here?

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Perhaps this is not germane to the holiday weekend, but then again, maybe it’s spot on.

Our life flows like a stream and on any ordinary day we are faced with choices that affect the course of our life. Where we are at any given point is the cumulative effect of years of such minor, even mundane decisions. Or as the Talking Heads once put it:

“And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile

And you may Find Yourself In A Beautiful House,
With A Beautiful Wife

And You May Ask Yourself: Well...How Did I Get Here?

Letting The Days Go By
Let The Water Hold Me Down

Letting The Days Go By
Water Flowing Underground

Into The Blue Again
After The Money’s Gone

Once In A Lifetime
Water Flowing Underground.”

Forgive me. I have to go now and make some small decision that will effect the rest of my life. No pressure



- Lyrics from “Once in a Lifetime” by the Talking Heads (1984)

- Photo of Baskins Creek. I've spent many hours of my life watching it flow past me.

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extinctions

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My book Ghost Birds is about the ivory-billed woodpecker, a species that we hope is not extinct. But what about the Labrador duck pictured above?

I am often asked about birds that have become extinct in our part of the world. Here is a list that have vanished in North America in the past 500 years, but keep in mind that others may have blinked out by manmade causes—principally habitat loss—even before modern science knew they existed. For instance, the Gould’s Emerald hummingbird (Chlorostilbon elegans) is known purely by one collected specimen of unknown origin although it is conjectured that it came from Jamaica or the Bahamas.

The first one on the list was a flightless owl that lived on Andros Island, the largest island of the Bahamas. Being flightless bird on an island is often a species headed down a cul-de-sac, just ask the dodo.

The species highlighted in red were once found in the Unites States. The dates are when they went extinct.

North American Birds: Recent extinctions (1500 AD to present)

1. Bahaman barn owl, (16th Century) (Caribbean)

2. Bermuda night heron (1600s) (Caribbean)

3. Lesser Antillean macaw, (1760) (Caribbean)

4. Guadeloupe burrowing owl, (Little is known) (Caribbean)

5. Guadeloupe parakeet, (Little is known) (Caribbean)

6. Martinique Amazon, a parrot, (Last seen: 1772) (Endemic to Martinique, Caribbean)

7. Guadeloupe Amazon, a parrot, (1779) (Endemic to Guadeloupe, Caribbean)

8. Great auk (Last record: 3 June 1844) (North Atlantic south to New England)

9. Spectacled cormorant, (Last record: About 1850) (Bering Sea)

10. Brace’s emerald hummingbird (Last record: 13 July 1877) (Bahamas)

11. Cuban red macaw (Last record: 1884) (Cuba, Caribbean)

12. Martinique house wren, (Little is known) (Caribbean)

13. Gould’s emerald hummingbird (One specimen, 1860) (Jamaica, Bahamas)

14. Labrador duck (Last record: Fall 1875) (Labrador south to New York)

15. Mauge’s parakeet, (Last seen 1882) (Caribbean)

16. Virgin Islands screech-owl (Little is known) (Caribbean)

17. Guadalupe caracara (Last record: 1 December 1900) (Caribbean)

18. Slender-billed grackle, (Little is known. Last record: About 1910) (Mexico)

19. Guadalupe storm-petrel (Last record: 1911) (Guadalupe Island off Baja California)

20. Grand Cayman thrush (Last record: 1911) (Cayman Islands)

21. Passenger pigeon (Last record: 1 September 1914) (U.S.)

22. Carolina parakeet (Last record: 21 February 1918) (U.S.)

23. Heath hen (Last confirmed record: 11 March 1932) (Martha's Vineyard, U.S.)

24. Dusky seaside sparrow (Last record: 16 June 1987) (U.S., endemic to Florida)

25. Atitlán Grebe (1989) (Guatemala, Central America)

To this list you should probably-maybe add the Bachman's warbler from the American south (the last confirmed sighting was in South Carolina in 1988); imperial woodpecker from Mexico; Jamaica petrel; Eskimo curlew of Canada and Alaska; and Semper's warbler, endemic to Saint Lucia, an island I have visited.

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where's Hiwassee?

•



I've had several queries about the sandhill cranes at Hiwassee and two questions in particular:

1) When do the sandhills start to arrive at the refuge?

2) How do I get there to see them?

They generally start to arrive in November and leave around March, with a peak in population in mid-winter.

From Knoxville to Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge

1) Leaving Knoxville take I-75/40 South.

2) At the I-75/40 Split take I-75 (left lanes).

3) After split, drive 36 miles to Exit 49 (Athens/Decatur). Take exit and at top of ramp, turn right towards Decatur on Hwy 30.

4) Drive just over 9 miles to Decatur. At traffic light turn left onto Hwy 58 South.

5) Drive approximately 14.5 miles to Blythe Ferry Road on right.

6) Follow Blythe Ferry Road 6 miles to Priddy Road on right. This is the entrance to Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge. Follow gravel road to it dead ends in public parking lot at gazebo

Reverse directions to get home.

1) At the end of Priddy Road (gravel) turn left onto Blythe Ferry Road and drive 6 miles to Hwy 58.

2) Turn left onto Hwy 58 and drive approximately 14.5 miles to Decatur.

3) Turn right at traffic light and Golden Gallon onto Hwy 30.

4) Drive 9 miles to I-75 Exit-49. Follow signs to I-75 North.

5) Take I-75 North and follow signs to Knoxville.


Thank you. Enjoy your day.

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a milkweed that climbs

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Well it certainly looked like the exploding seeds pods for common milkweed, but then again it didn’t. You know how that goes? IDing sparrows is a cinch compared to some plants. Luckily, we had local wildflower expert Kris Light with us on our hike to the Ross Marble Natural Area.

It is in the milkweed family, a native perennial vine found in the southeast somewhat blessed with a plethora of common names: blue-vined milkweed, sandvine, honeyvine milkweed, climbing milkweed and/or smooth swallow-wort. But to any biologist, it’s simply Cynanchum laeve.

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seasons change

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Perhaps on schedule, perhaps not, but the seasons are changing.

I watched sycamore leaves slowly fall from their moorings on a warm afternoon and the next day a sudden cold front with a sprinkling of hail—or should I say hell—slapped us in the face.

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Ross Marble Hike

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Special thanks to everyone who went on my first guided hike to the Ross Marble Natural Area yesterday. The weather was wonderful, perhaps the last good weekend before winter.

The new 105-acre parcel was officially opened last week. With this addition, Ijams Nature Center is now 275 acres. And, of course, like the rest of the park, Ross Marble is open 365 days a year.

For more information go to Ross Marble.

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as goes the moths

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If you have followed this blog, you know I have a fondness for moths. But some studies have shown that worldwide there's a drop in their numbers. If so, this would have an effect of the moth-eaters.

The European cuckoo (Cuculus canorus) is in decline on the other side of the Atlantic.

Environmental writer Michael McCarthy writes, “It is possible also that the cuckoo has been hit by a significant side effect of intensive farming; insect decline."

"With cuckoos—and with bats, many of which are also declining—the issue is moths."

"However, some of the moths whose caterpillars cuckoos take have dropped in numbers precipitously in Britain in recent decades. We know this from one of the biggest data sets on insect populations anywhere in the world, the records of the countrywide network of moth traps run since 1968 by the Rothamsted agricultural research station in Hertfordshire. When this data was analyzed in 2003, it was found that 226 out of the 337 moth species examined had decreased over the 35 years, many by alarming amounts: 75 species had decreased by more than 70 percent, another 57 species had decreased by more 50 percent, and a further 60 by over 25 percent.”

And as goes the caterpillars, so goes the caterpillar eaters.


-From "Say Goodbye to the Cuckoo: Migratory Birds and the Impending Ecological Catastrophe" by Michael McCarthy, 2010, Ivan R. Dee publisher, pages 236-37

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festive silk

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Most adult spiders die before winter, leaving behind their egg cases for next year. Yet, this one silk-spinner at Ijams seemed festive in its dying days, decorating a tall native grass for the upcoming holidays.

Spider silk is stronger than steel, yet flexible. Scientists have been trying to create fabric from the strands of silk but have largely failed until last year. In 2009, "Time" magazine reported that British textiles expert Simon Peers and American fashion designer Nicholas Godley have succeeded in weaving a 11-feet long stretch of remarkably strong cloth.

The down-side: it took 7o people in Madagascar collecting the silk from more than a million golden orb spiders. They worked for four years at a ultimate cost of half a million dollars, so the cloth is probably not for everyday use.

-Photo at Ijams Nature Center

-Thanks Karen Sue

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where are my books?

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Being an author is an odd odd sort of avocation. You spend years and years, working in private: researching, reading, thinking, scribbling, marking through and scribbling yet again. Comma in, comma out. Paragraph in, paragraph out.

Only your loved ones know the long hours of isolation And then, somehow, the gods smile on you and you finish and deliver your manuscript to the publisher. At that point, it no longer is a private affair, the pace quickens, there's editing, design, proof approvals, scheduling, deadlines, and before too long your books are out there, thousands of them, strewn about like autumn leaves in the wind.

You often find yourself wondering: Where do they go? Have they found a good home? Are they languishing in a used bookstore? (An author's nightmare.)

To that end, if you have a copy of one of my books, send me a photo and sate my curiosity. Here's one that found its way to the Big Apple, the city that never sleeps.



Bill Benish at the subway station very close to his apartment in uptown New York City. (This is very appropriate since in my book, Jim and Nancy Tanner saw the beginning of 1941 come in at Times Square watching the ball drop.)

Thanks, Bill.

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fishing buddies

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This one comes from Linda Claussen.

She routinely sees otters swimming along the river near her home upstream from the nature center. Recently Linda noticed a great blue heron walking through the water following an otter presumably taking advantage of whatever small tasty morsels were churned up in its wake.

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ghost birds: East Carroll Parish

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In Louisiana, north of the Singer Tract: 1938

"After his meal, it began to look like rain, so Jim hustled out to find his car not wanting to get it stuck in the mud yet again. He had just reached the road and the cabin of Fred Williams, when a heavy rain began to fall. Williams invited Tanner into his home until the shower passed, where Jim learned that the old-timer had not seen an ivory-bill in the area in 10 years. His story and the amount of cut over acreage confirmed what Jim was already sensing: if the upper reaches of the Tensas bottomland had once been home to the storied woodpeckers, they were now all gone. "


Excerpt from Ghost Birds: Jim Tanner and the Quest for the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, 1931-1941


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last train

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This foggy morning scene near the nature center reminded me of the old song "Last Train to Clarksville" by The Monkees, which topped the Billboard chart 44 years ago today (November 5, 1966). The song was written by Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart and was to believed to be a protest song against the Vietnam War. The train's destination suggested Clarksville, Tennessee near Fort Campbell, Kentucky home of the 101st Airborne Division—the Screaming Eagles—of the US Army.

"Take the last train to Clarksville, Now I must hang up the phone, I can't hear you in this noisy railroad station, All alone, I'm feeling low. Oh, no, no, no, Oh, no, no, no, And I don't know if I'm ever coming home."

And yes, I'm obviously old enough to remember all of this. Although, on second thought, this section of track is headed east away from Clarksville. The city in Middle Tennessee is located in the opposite direction.

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splashed

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If last week’s post was reminiscent of Claude Monet and the impressionists, today’s seems more in the line with Jackson Pollock and abstract expressionism. POW! It's bold, in your face.

A black gum located at Ijams seemed to be splashed, dripping with color.

In fact, exuberant, brash color is exploding everywhere around me.







"Alchemy" by Jackson Pollock, 1947
(Imagine this in red and orange.)



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thank you

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Special thanks to Cindy Kendrick, Ann Strange, Jim Kohl and the rest of the ORNL Community Shares Campaign Team. As part of this year's kick-off event and ORNL's Sustainable Campus Initiative, I spoke on "Creating a Bird Friendly Yard," one of the Living Clean & Green! earth-friendly programs offered by Ijams.

Ijams Nature Center is a Community Shares member agency. ORNL employees who choose to donate to Community Shares can designate that part or all of their donations go to Ijams.

For this, we thank you.

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autumal palette

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Wayne Mallinger writes,

"Nature's well worn palette...I've spent the last two weeks enjoying the fall colors at all levels, the heights of the mountains, to the floor of the forests as they slowly make their way down to the valley.....Bald River Falls in the Cherokee National Forest late Monday afternoon served up an eyeful (as always). Wind & rains on Tuesday accelerated the fall process."

Indeed. The leaves seem to be morphing overnight, showing their true colors.

Thanks, Wayne!



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