one year too early

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BREAKING NEWS!

cicada arrives early

Day 70 something. We lost count. But we are still taking the pandemic seriously. Staying home. Staying safe.

But you can go out into the world, just keep your social distance from other people. But, bugs? They are OK.

Case in point: If you attended my Science Caf´talk last August at the zoo, you know I predicted that at least some periodical cicadas would emerge one year early. 

This morning at Ijams, our favorite local naturalist Nick Stahlman spotted an insect he knew was unusual, really out of place. A blue-bodied, golden-winged, red-eyed cicada. And it would take a keen eye and understanding of local bug-ology to know that it was a 17-year cicada, one year too early from the rest of Brood X's next emergence of millions, May 2021. The poor thing was out of sync with its tribe. The last time they came out in force was 2004.

These cicadas live underground for 17-years as larvae only to climb out of the ground, molt into winged-adults and find a mate to reproduce before dying. Yet, starting the process all over again.

I predicted this would happen because dozens did emerge three years ago in 2017. Well, it is pretty hard to know the passage of years if you live underground. Click: 2017.


Yet, to date in 2020. Only ONE has been found. Great job Nick.  

To know more. There's an entire chapter in my first book Natural Histories about 17-year cicadas.

   
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How is Buzz doing?

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OUR TOP STORY!

another visit with Buzz 

Day 61. Staying safe. Staying home. 

Yet, we were called upon to transport an orphan robin from the UT Veterinary Hospital to wildlife rehabilitator Lynne McCoy. Of late this has become a treat because we get to visit for a bit with Buzzy, the orphan black vulture Lynne is caring for until it is old enough to fly away on its own. And yes, isn't it wonderful how nature makes baby animals so adorable so they will be cared for. 

Using the Charlie Monday method, Lynne has determined that the vulture is a female. Buzzy is also quite healthy and eats whenever it is offered. And that is a lot. We admire all the work Lynne puts in to save the wildlife under her protection. 

Still Muppet cute. Yes, a life worth saving.

For a look at Buzz a week ago, click:adorable

    

catawba?

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Day 59: We have made it to two months! Still watching and waiting, but it's OK to go sight-seeing alone.

And what do we find? One of our favorite trees in bloom.

In the speak-easy days before spell check, heck I'll go one better, before Mr. Webster's dictionary, spelling was more an art form than a science.

Case in point: the Native American Catawba tribe lived in the Southeast along the border of what is today North and South Carolina. Beautiful country, I've been there.

The Catawba were primarily an agricultural people that were friendly towards early European colonists but constantly at war with other Indian tribes. (Big mistake! If the tribes had worked together and driven us out, we'd all still be living on the moors.) 

Today, roughly 2,600 Catawba still remain, mostly in the Palmetto State. The group has a tribal totem: a tree with showy white flowers. The tree bore their tribes’ name: catawba but because of a spelling error, the describing botanist—a man named Scopoli—recorded the name as “catalpa,” and that’s the moniker we use today.

Catalpa or catawba, misspelled or not, it’s still a beautiful tree when it’s in full bloom as it is now. With large heart shaped leaves, it's a fine example of southern treedom, which really isn't a word but in the spirit of freestyle spelling, I'll use it anyway.

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Day 56: Mother's Day outing

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OUR TOP STORY!

a life bird for Mother's day 

Day 56. We sincerely thank all of the health care workers for what they are going through during this crisis especially on Mother's Day. 

I am not a doctor. And even though I have no medical credentials, I think I can diagnose that the vast majority of Americans have cabin fever laced with a pandemic of stresses that are bringing us down.  

Betty Thompson is our eye-to-the-sky in Kansas. Betty is also a retired nurse and a birder with a camera. When her husband Tim asked what she wanted for Mother's Day, she wanted an outing. She wanted to find a species she had never seen before and get some photos. 

This species probably never gets cabin fever. It is on the go too much of its life. The yellow noggin blackbirds called Bobolinks are long, long distance migrants that spend their winters in south South America in countries that include Brazil, Argentina, Bolivia, Paraguay. A single bobolink may fly 12,000 miles round trip during its migration south to north and back. Plus, its chosen habitat is grasslands where it flies considerable more each day in search of food.

Bobolinks spend their summers across the northern tier of states up into Canada. But if you look at any range map, there's an isolated summer population in northern Kentucky and one in Kansas. To find that lone spot in Kansas was Betty's goal for Mother's Day. A needle in a hay stack? But that's the joy of such treasure hunts. 

"We drove to Paulo, Kansas, just south of Kansas City," emailed Betty. It was about 2 1/2 to 3 hours northeast of where they live.

And, although they didn't find as many as Betty expected, she got some great photos.

The thrill of the hunt eases cabin fever. 

Indeed, ob-la-de, ob-la-da.

      
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Day 55: thrush trifecta

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OUR TOP STORY!

uncommon but regular 

At Day 55, we are still playing it safe. Being mindful of the moment. Savoring the day-to-day rhythms of our lives, waiting for something wonderful to present itself...and it usually does with proper patience.

Here in East Tennessee we are fortunate. We have five species of brown-backed, spotted thrushes that spend time with us. All are accomplished songsters.

The hermit thrush is only here in winter, returning to the high Smokies and north into the New England area and Canada to nest in the early spring. 

The wood thrush, perhaps the most beloved of the group for its song, nests here in the understory of wooded areas so we hear them from late April until August.

That leaves three species that simply migrate through the Tennessee Valley. The veery nests in the Great Smokies and farther to the north and the long-distance migrant, the Swainson's thrush, passes through in the spring and nests in Canada.

That only leaves the mysterious migrant, the gray-cheeked thrush that also nest in Canada and Alaska. Listed as uncommon but regular by TWRA, they perhaps fly over Tennessee at night in the spring and fall if the winds are favorable. But if the winds are not, they take a rest stop in our woods. The gray-cheeks are also noted for being quite shy, not showing themselves readily. 

Local artist, Vickie Henderson sent me an email. She had scored a Thrush Trifecta. Wood thrushes had been singing around her studio home in the woods for a couple of weeks followed by visiting Swainson's thrushes, but much to her surprise, the most elusive gray-cheeked thrush, a life-bird for her, joined them after the rains passed through and even posed for a few photos.  

Indeed. Ob-la-de, ob-la-da.

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Day 54: a visit with Buzz

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OUR TOP STORY TONIGHT!

still oddly adorable 

At Day 54, we are still playing it safe. Being watchful. Mindful, practicing our "being" not so much our "doing." Being in the moment.

This one falls under the category of it's so odd-looking it is adorable like one of Jim Henson's Muppets. 

I was called on this afternoon to transport a few orphaned animals from the care of  UT Veterinary Hospital to wildlife rehabilitator Lynne McCoy in Jefferson County. This time it was three young rabbits and a robin. Lynne will care for them until they are old enough to be released into the wild.

I also got to visit with the orphaned black vulture under her care that was found at the base of a cliff in Newport. I first reported on it April 21: click crestfallen.

Lynne has taken to calling the vulture "Buzz" and it has a healthy appetite and followed her out onto her porch for me to visit. Buzz will be under Lynne's care until it is old enough to fly away and live on its own.  

And yes, it is oddly adorable.

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Day 52: that's a long distance

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OUR TOP STORY TONIGHT!

a visitor from South America 

At Day 52, we are still playing it safe. Being watchful. Mindful. No need to rush into things, maybe a second cup of coffee.  

Moments like this are memorable. We hold onto them, rolling them over in your minds. Wow! That was just a perfect.

Staring up into the canopy this morning, sipping my cooling coffee, I saw it briefly. A tiny bird. Small pointy beak. Warbler? Maybe, but which one? I keep the binoculars nearby for just such chance encounters and found the little passerine quickly and followed its foraging branch to branch. We played peek-a-boo.  

Is that chestnut along its flank under the wings and two thick white wing bars? And look on the side of its neck, a large light spot surrounded by a dark head. Could it really be?

Grabbing my Peterson's to confirm, yes there it is. A species I rarely see, considered uncommon in our state. 

This Bay-breasted Warble is a long-distance migrant. Most years they probably fly over Tennessee on their way from the northern countries in South America to their breeding grounds in the boreal forests of Canada. Now that's a flight, 1800 maybe 2000 miles. Perhaps, Colombia or Venezuela to here is only halfway. And it just stopped by my woodland to grab a meal of caterpillars before it completes its journey. How do they do that?

Godspeed, John Glenn. 

Now, that is a mindful moment.

Ob-la-de, ob-la-da. 

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Day 51: our favorite lizard

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OUR TOP STORY TONIGHT!

we live our lives with skinks  

At Day 51, we are still practicing our social distancing skills, albeit a little more loosely. We have decided that if the coronavirus knocks on the door, we won't be inclined to answer it. 

If you grew up in East Tennessee, you grew up with skinks. They seem to always be present, somewhere around our houses, walls, front porches, patios, fireplaces. They are there, count on it, eating our ants, beetles, roaches. That's a good thing. 

We saw a young one, climbing the outside of our chimney today probably a five-lined skink the most common and most widespread lizard in the state. 

Skinks live up to six years and as they age their colors change and they no longer have the bold markings and blue tails of youth. They settle into their reproductive years more camouflaged. Adult males, become orangey-brown with red throats like the photo at the top sent to us by Lynne Davis. The five lines are still there but less noticeable. Adult males are also highly territorial but accept females and juveniles in their claimed locations.

Adult females begin to lay clutches of eggs this time of the year and actually guard them somewhat bird like. Most likely, somewhere around your home you probably have a clutch of skink eggs with its protective mother. 

And it's OK. Ob-la-de, ob-la-da.  

Juvenile five-lined skink

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Day 50: who eats gnats?

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OUR TOP STORY TONIGHT!

looking down on a blue-gray?  

At Day 50, we are in limbo. We have the lyrics of that old song by The Clash running through our heads, "Should I stay or should I go?"

Yet, given the choices, we elected to stay. 

To say a blue-gray gnatcatcher is petite is like saying an elephant is a jumbo. We’d be stating the obvious, the elephant in the room so to speak. And to be politically correct, they know they are petite.

At .23 ounce, it would take four blue-grays to make an entire ounce, or 64 to make a pound of the diminutive bird that really only weighs about twice as much as a local hummingbird.

Blue-grays eat tiny insects, leafhoppers, midges, gnats, "no-see-ems" and it is hard to see how you can make a meal on such insect minutiae. It’s like being the last kid at the table and you don’t get a wedge of cornbread but the crumbles at the bottom of the pan. 

Blue-grays are only here during the nesting season and tend to be high in the trees. If you see one, it is most often its belly or undercarriage you are looking at through the branches.

That’s why the editorial we was surprised to spot one looking for food on the ground with us peering down from the second-floor deck off our periodical room. It was our belly the blue-gray was looking at. 

Still, it makes us wonder: are there fewer tiny insects in the canopy? And yet, another sign that the collective biomass of all insects has suffered a major decline?

Blue-gray gnatcatcher food

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Day 49: more space than phrase

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OUR TOP STORY TONIGHT!

blue-headed just passing through  

Day 49: Here in Tennessee, we think the quarantine has ended. But most of us are staying quarantined taking a wait and see approach. We're being cautious. 

Besides there is a lot happening outside around our homes. This afternoon a blue-headed vireo with white spectacles passed through migrating to the Smokies and places farther north.

Did we see it? No, we didn't have to but we heard it above the driveway as it moved through the canopy.

To recognize the blue-headed's song, that is really more of a lengthy conversation than a melodious song, you really need to know the red-eyed vireo's vocalization. For that species it's a long series of phrases, one after the other after the other. A mnemonic like, "I'm up here, don't you see me, please look up, I am in the tree." And so on and so on with very little space in between. 

The blue-headed, once known as the solitary vireo, is very similar except there is a lot more space between the phrases. Almost more space than phrase. "I'm up here.........don't you see me........please look up........I am in the tree......" And so it goes for a very long period of time. 

Ob-la-dee, ob-la-da.

And thank you Dr. Fred Alsop, who taught me this a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

In these treetops somewhere. But where?

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Day 48: expect Cope's gray soon

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OUR TOP STORY TONIGHT!

Cope's gray soon to croon  

Day 48: Here in Tennessee, we think the quarantine has ended. But most of us are staying put taking a wait and see approach. We're being cautious. 

It is also May and the temperatures are warming, so we'll expect to start hearing male Cope's gray tree frogs (Hyla chrysoscelis) croon for a mate at anytime. Their breeding season runs from May to August if conditions are right, a sultry damp evening, a gleam in the eye. The pair only need a temporary pool of water. 

Both Lynne Davis and I recently took surprising similar photos of Cope's grays and we live miles apart. So we know they are out and about at least thinking about the season at hand. The less-than-your-thumb sized frog is named to honor Edward Drinker Cope, noted man of the natural sciences including herpetology, who first described the species in 1880.

Ob-la-de, ob-la-da.

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Day 47: creamsicle and chartreuse

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OUR TOP STORY TONIGHT!

state-tree full of bloom  

Day 47: Here in Tennessee, we think the quarantine ended today. That's what they told us. But most everyone is staying put taking a wait and see approach.

This nature story has been hovering in our top five for quite a while. But the flowers are so high off the ground you hardly notice. That is until a strong storm or two blows through with high winds to knock them down to the ground for pretty young women to wear in their hair. 

The Tennessee State tree is in bloom. And you have to admire any flower with the chutzpah to put Creamsicle orange and chartreuse together. That's courage or panache, you decide which.

Tupliptree, a.k.a. tulip poplar, a.k.a. yellow poplar is a fast-growing pioneer species, a towering giant in most places. But my late botany mentor at the University of Tennessee all those years ago, Dr. Jack Sharp, would be ill with me if I did not point out that the tulip poplar is not a poplar. It is a magnolia. Yes, and American robins are not robins. They are thrushes.

This one is for you, Dr. Sharp! 

And I still have that goofy hat with the panda pin.

Ob-la-de, ob-la-da.  

     
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