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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flyway

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On a recent visit from Chicago, Harald Schmidt had a good morning. Last Sunday, he was on the river at Alcoa Highway and Topside Road.

Harald e-mails, “At one point I could hear some birds making a lot of noise in a nearby tree. While walking closer, I saw this very large bird sitting in the tree. When he saw me he took off and I was only to get one photo.”

In addition to the bald eagle, Harald also got photos of an osprey, red-tailed hawk, turkey vulture and finally a great blue heron.

There was a lot of airborne traffic that morning.

Thanks, Harald.

- Photos by Harald Schmidt

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united

Looney Island, pt. 3

A quick check of the great blue heron rookery on Looney Island found several of the old nests now being occupied by mated pairs. The activity level has increased, herons were coming and going, with males bringing offerings of food to their new mates. (Nothin’ says lovin’ like a regurgitated fish!)

It’s somehow comforting to know that the patience, or tenacity, of the males that claimed their sites early has paid off. (See February 18 and 19 postings.) Observing their nesting activities will become more difficult, if not impossible, as soon as the leaves return to the trees in a few weeks.

Photo: After a foraging trip, the mated pair of herons are reunited at the nest.

Looney Island, pt. 2

Sitting on the shoreline, watching the herons at the rookery across the river you realize their dilemmas. The first to arrive at the island and claim a nest are the males. Great blue heron pair bonds only last for the breeding season, so the males must find new mates and the ones that claim the best nesting sites this year have a greater chance of attracting a female. But a male may have to wait for days before a female arrives and chooses him. If he leaves the choice nest to get food, another male may claim it. So he stoically stands in the rain and cold protecting his real estate--day after day after day.

Looney Island

As the crow flies, or in this case, the heron, Looney Island is just over a mile from my home on Chapman Ridge. One of the largest heron rookeries in the valley is located on the island. Close to 100 nests fill the trees on the long strip of land in the middle of the Tennessee River. Great blue herons spend most of their lives as solitary hunters; steel gray isolationists, fishing up and down their adopted waterways. But at breeding time they come together as colonial nesters, filling the trees with large stick constructions. A single tall sycamore can have multiple homes, precariously placed on the topmost branches. The nests are so well built, they can be used year after year.

In February, great blues begin to arrive at the rookery to stake their claims. They don’t necessarily use the same nests as they did the year before and if they arrive early enough to claim a better-located one, they will. What determines a better site? Only a heron knows and they are remarkably tight-billed on the subject. Perhaps it's the view. If they arrive too late, they may have to build a nest from scratch. It’s first come, first served. This declaration-of-site marks the beginning of courtship. Yesterday’s showers didn’t discourage the herons. Several nests have already been claimed; solo males were standing tall in the rain waiting for the arrival of a mate. The wait may be a long one.

Illustration by Stephen Lyn Bales