Meet the jewel mudbug

Meet the jewel mudbug, Lacunicambarus dalyae, the most recently described North American crayfish species. Astacologist Mael Glon allowed me to visit his offices at OSU yesterday to see one of these showy animals in person, and create some images. Glon is the principal author of a paper published on October 9 that describes this colorful burrowing crayfish species. It occurs in five southeastern U.S. states, and is named for Meg Daly, Director of the OSU Museum of Biological Diversity. Meg's support was essential to the research that led to this discovery. I'm going to write a piece on this charismatic animal in the next month or so for my Columbus Dispatch column. I would add that people like Mael and Meg, who support the biological underdogs, make the world a better place.

The Last Day of October

The month of October this year has been beautifully sunny for the most part

and also rather warm until recently.

I wanted to share the wonderful colours that I've enjoyed in my area  

often in my  own neighbourhood.

This first photograph was taken in the park called Mont Repos

which is in Lausanne and only a 20-minute walk from where I live.

The golden leaves in the background are Tulip Trees.

Here is one of the paths in the park

lined with those beautiful trees.

The park is so beautiful with all the autumn chrysanthemum plants coming into bloom.

The  warm colours make me feel happy!

The leaves are falling with the recent wind and rain and soon the trees will be bare

showing the lovely shapes of their trunks and branches.

The Maple leaves take on their bright tones of red and orange.

Cherry Tree leaves catch the sunlight

before floating down and sometimes getting caught in fences.

Big American oak leaves and Beech create their own beauty when they land

on the granite path.

Closer to home, a local Tulip Tree frames a pale blue sky

In my own tree-lined street, the leaves gather on the pathways

making everything so beautiful.

I was walking down my street in the rain one day and saw this little leaf

which had moulded itself on the door handle of a dark blue car.

Another rainy day and a different kind of leaf had landed on a black car.

The lovely reflected colours on the shiny door are the leaves on the ground.

A rusty fence was embellished by this vine turning a colour which seemed to match the rust.

I was waiting for the bus to come home after an afternoon out and just caught this beautiful lighting 

just before sunset.

By standing on tiptoes, I could capture a fine strip of lake and the mountains

The last photo is a still life to honour today.

It is All Hallows' Eve.

What is now known as 'Halloween' is a name that means nothing in itself.

It's a contraction of  'All Hallows' Eve'.

It designates the vigil of All Hallows' Day, which is November 1st,

often known as All Saints' Day.

I have spoken about putting up some photos of a lovely escapade I did in October,

but it will be for another day!

Tropical Kingbird

Extremely Rare Kingbird Sighted at Cambridge Narrows

Tropical Kingbird

 It is unheard of to find a Tropical Kingbird (Tyrannus melancholicus) in New Brunswick.  But on October 27, 2019 one was seen at Cambridge Narrows sitting on wires, by an astute birder as he drove past.  That was an incredible find, both in the presence of the bird and in the fact that it was spotted by a birder who recognized it as unusual.

We have eight species of kingbirds which can be seen in North America.  In New Brunswick the Eastern Kingbird is common in summer and breeds here.   The Western Kingbird is a casual spring visitor and sometimes seen in the fall.  The other six species have not been seen here except for the Tropical Kingbird which, according to Jim Wilson, has been seen briefly at Tabusintac in October, 2015 and at Lameque in November, 2017 and possibly a third at Cape Tourmentine in 2017 which may have been the same bird as the former.  These sightings were not confirmed because no sound was heard.

Tropical Kingbird

The Tropical Kingbird is a large flycatcher (23 cm/ 9 in) long with a light gray head, olive-gray back, white throat, a dark eyeline, dark yellow upper breast and bright yellow lower breast, belly and vent, and gray-brown wings and tail.  It has a large black bill and a notched tail.  Males and females are similar.

The Tropical Kingbird cannot be differentiated from the Couch's Kingbird by sight or photographs only.  The only way to tell them apart is by voice.  And, fortunately this recent bird has been vocal and heard by many observers.  The Tropical Kingbird's call is a high-pitched twittering sound all on one pitch.  The call of Couch's Kingbird is a high-pitched descending call sounding like 'breeear'.  Birders today have electronic devices which can play bird songs so it is not difficult to differentiate songs.  Our visitor is a Tropical Kingbird.

Tropical Kingbird [Nelson Poirier Photo]

Where should this bird normally be?  Well, it a long way from home!  Its normal summer breeding grounds are in south-eastern Arizona, northern Mexico and along the lower Rio Grande River in Texas.  It winters in Mexico's coastal areas and into South America to southern Bolivia, southeastern  Brazil and Argentina.  This species is known to wander widely and has been found as far out of its range as Maine, Alaska, Bermuda (and New Brunswick).  It first came to the US to Arizona in 1938.

This week we watched this bird feed, flying out from a high perch and to capture insects.  Apparently it also eats fruit and berries and will readily take mealworms.

A couple of interesting facts about this species; during courtship the perched male flaps its wings vigorously and sometimes lifts straight up.  Also, it has a distinctive dawn song which is sung just before sunrise.  It would be fun to hear it.

Autumnal tree tunnel

As always, click the image to enlarge

Autumnal tree tunnel, reflected in the mirrored waters of Clear Creek. Hocking County, Ohio, October 23, 2019.

A sparrow safari to Dutch Fork Wetlands, Dawes Arboretum

A wonderful mixed-emergent marsh restoration, known as the Dutch Fork Wetlands. It's part of Dawes Arboretum, a sprawling 2,000-acre palette of wildly diverse flora. Part of the arboretum is formal plantings comprised of numerous ornamental plants, many from distant lands. But a bigger part of the property is native plants in more or less natural landscapes, and arboretum staff work hard to properly manage the indigenous assets.

I was over at Dawes about a week ago for a meeting, and arrived early - the crack of dawn to be precise. Mid-October is peak for migrant sparrows, and I figured the Dutch Fork Wetlands and its associated meadows would produce lots of the little brown jobs. I was not disappointed.

A juvenile white-crowned sparrow surveys his temporary domain from a sapling. I saw many of these big sparrows, and several were singing their haunting minor-keyed whistles. White-crowns are strictly migrants here. They breed in the FAR north; the sub-tundra taiga and on north into the true tundra, and in the higher elevations of the Rocky Mountains in the west.

Many field sparrows were present. This species is quite the contrast to the previous one in terms of bulk. A good measure of "bulkiness" in a bird is weight. The white-crowned sparrow weighs about 30 grams. A well-fed field sparrow, about 13 grams. Only the chipping and clay-colored sparrows are ever so slightly smaller.

This field sparrow is perched on a cup-plant, Silphium perfoliatum. Most of the sparrows present this day were smitten with this robust native member of the sunflower family. I quickly learned to spot the cup-plant colonies from afar, creep up, and be rewarded with gangs of sparrows stripping the fruit.

As is to be expected nearly anywhere in Ohio, song sparrows were frequent. Given the numbers that I saw, I suspect local breeders were augmented by migrants.

Beginning birders often lament the alleged difficulty of sparrow identification. But there aren't that many - 15 commonly occurring Ohio species - and most are quite distinctive. As with learning to identify any group of organisms, become very familiar with the common species such as this song sparrow, then the others will start to stand out as different.

We have three North American species of sparrows in the genus Melospiza, and I saw them all this day. The aforementioned song sparrow is one, and so is this swamp sparrow, distinctive in its chestnut hues. It's well-named - swamp sparrows are very much birds of wetland habitats. This one perches on a senescent snarl of soft-stemmed bulrush, Schoenoplectus tabernaemontani. I probably saw or heard several dozen in the Dutch Fork Wetlands. Prior to the arboretum's wetland restoration work, there were probably none.

This normally shy skulker was the best of the Melospiza sparrows, if one feels obligated to rank such things. It is a Lincoln's sparrow, named for 21 year old Thomas Lincoln, who accompanied John James Audubon on his 1833 expedition to Labrador. Young Lincoln bagged the first specimen of this sparrow, and Audubon named it for him.

I see plenty of breeding Lincoln's sparrows every year on their breeding grounds in northern Michigan and usually elsewhere in the North Country. There, they come out of their shell and often sing their beautiful melodies from open perches. I have never heard one sing down here in migration, and they typically sneak about furtively in dense tangles of vegetation near the ground.

Thus, I was pleased to hear the call notes of several Lincoln's sparrows soon after arriving, and found about ten of them in all. This one - and several of the others - were feasting on cup-plant seeds.

In total, I located nine species of sparrows on this day (others included chipping sparrow, eastern towhee, Savannah sparrow, and white-throated sparrow). Missed were my hoped for primary targets, the Le Conte's and Nelson's sparrows. Dutch Fork Wetlands in fall should be a great place to turn up one or both of these rarish wetland species.

Of course, not all was sparrows on this foray, and this nosy marsh wren amused me for several minutes. I was standing quietly and somewhat concealed, when the wren burst from a snarl of cattails and curiously investigated me from all angles. Marsh wrens are quite photogenic, if you are lucky enough to have clear shots at them.

Finally, it was time to head for my meeting, but this birdiferous sapling held me up briefly. For some reason, about every songbird in the Indian grass meadow wanted to use it as a lookout. In its branches, and I'm sure I'm forgetting one or a few species, were eastern bluebird, American goldfinch, house finch, palm warbler, and song, swamp, Savannah, Lincoln’s, and white-crowned sparrows, most of them simultaneously (sorry for the poor iPhone photo - I was over-lensed in terms of capturing the entire tree with a real camera).

Whimbrel

Whimbrel - A Large Sandpiper

Whimbrel

The Whimbrel (Numenius phaeopus) is a large interesting shorebird. This species is a member of the Scolopacidae family which it shares with many other sandpiper species.  The Numenius genus is shared also by the Long-billed Curlew and in times past, by the Eskimo Curlew.  The Eskimo Curlew was a common fall migrant here before its demise and extinction in the late 1800s.    

The Whimbrel is listed as casual in spring and an uncommon migrant in the fall.  Its numbers are still low after  blatant population destruction due to severe over-hunting in the 1800s.  It is most often seen on coastal bogs, barrens and beaches in mid-to-late summer.  Sometimes flocks are seen on the heath of Miscou Island.  I have seen as many as 20 individuals there feeding on heath and on the lawns of residences at Wilson's Point.  The photos used in this post were taken of an individual seen at Saints' Rest Marsh in Saint John on August 23, 2019.

The Whimbrel is a large sandpiper (45 cm/ 17.5 inches long).  Its gray legs appear short and its long decurved bill is its defining field mark.  It is brown striped over most of its body with a medial beige stripe on its dark crown.  It probes for food in the mud with its long beak and it also picks berries off heath plants.  Its voice is distinctive and melodic.  The display song is a long rising whistle followed by a series of rapid trills.  The flight call is a rapid, loud quiquiquiqui all in the same pitch.  It is enjoyable to hear these birds vocalize.  

Whimbrels breed in the Arctic where they nest on open tundra.  In North America their nesting grounds are in Alaska, Yukon, Northwest Territories and around the western shores of Hudson Bay.  They also breed in Greenland.  They winter in the southern coast of North America, California south through Mexico, the West Indies and South America.  They also breed in Europe in Iceland, Scandinavia and western Russia.  Those birds migrate to West Africa during the winter.

Whimbrel

Whimbrels are known to have a broad diet.  They feed on marine invertebrates, marine worms, molluscs, fish and berries.  They walk along as they feed, probing deeply into the mud.  That bill is certainly an instrument and is well used.  

Whimbrel

Whimbrels are one of the most widespread curlews.  They are known for being very defensive about their nests, attacking humans if they come too close.  That must help with their survival.  They are incredible fliers.  Some birds fly nonstop a distance of 2500 miles from southern Canada or New England to South America.  Just think of that, nonstop with no food or water and not landing to rest!  It is so important that they have good feeding areas here so they can build up their body fat stores so they have enough energy to make it all the way across that long stretch of ocean!

Whimbrel

The photo above shows the medial crown stripe.  That and the long decurved bill make a positive identification for this species.  

A number of years ago an European Whimbrel was seen and photographed near Fredericton.  This was a rare visitor here.  The European race has a white underwing, tail and lower back and coarser dark markings on the breast.  The race we normally see here has a dark rump and dark underwings. 

Fall colors

Nice to finally see some vibrant fall foliage in Central Ohio. Tree reflections in Lake Ramona, Clear Creek Metro Park, Fairfield County, Ohio, this morning.

Hydrological abstraction: Sycamore trunks and autumn foliage reflected in rippled waters of Clear Creek. Hocking County, Ohio, this morning.

Nature: Golden fly a beauty, not some biting pest

An Atylotus bicolor fly, dubbed a "golden velveteen fly" after a recent sighting by explorers at Mentor Marsh near Cleveland/Jim McCormac

Columbus Dispatch

October 20, 2019

NATURE
Jim McCormac

Say the word “fly” to someone and you likely will get a negative reaction. There are legitimate reasons for this. Tsetse and bot flies, pesky houseflies and savagely biting horseflies contribute to the bad rap. We will circle back to those horseflies in a bit.

Tarnishing the name of this astonishingly diverse group of insects because of the transgressions of a few bad actors is hardly fair. To date, more than 125,000 species in the Order Diptera (flies) have been described. Entomologists think that there could be more than 1 million species worldwide.

Most flies pose no problems to people, and they operate out of sight and mind. They are ubiquitous in nearly all habitats and are an integral part of the natural world. Flies pollinate myriad flowers, serve as food for higher-end predators, and keep other animals in check by predation. Overall, we know little of the roles played by the actors in this massive order of insects.Back on Sept. 15, I wrote about Mentor Marsh near Cleveland and the transformative restoration work there. Staff members of the Cleveland Museum of Natural History’s Natural Areas Program have directed the removal of about 800 acres of invasive reed grass (Phragmites australis).

Native flora, no longer suppressed by reed grass, has returned with a vengeance. The proliferation of plants has ushered in a major spike in animal diversity.

On my tour of the marsh on Aug. 13, guided by Cleveland museum employees Becky Donaldson and Ben Piazza, I saw abundant evidence of the spike in animal populations. Bald eagles, Caspian terns, Virginia rails and several dozen other bird species were detected.

Interesting moths and butterflies flitted about, a coyote trotted across our path and gorgeous banded garden spiders awaited prey in their complex webs. However, it was a fly that won the day in terms of uniqueness, at least in our book.

At one point, a shout went up from Piazza — he had spotted a bizarre golden fly resting on a swamp rose-mallow leaf. We rushed over to investigate, and were rewarded with a stunning half-inch-long work of six-legged art.

The fly was elegantly clad in velvety golden hairs, and its enormous, multifaceted goggle eyes seemed disproportionately large. Even the wings were tinted in gold. The fly seemed imported from a Dr. Seuss tale; an entomological Lorax come to life.

Later, we determined the mystery fly was Atylotus bicolor, a member of the horsefly family. The gorgeous fly apparently lacks a common name, so we informally dubbed it the “golden velveteen fly.” Unlike other members of its tribe, this one doesn’t seem to be a biter, and I had to chase it a bit to obtain photos.

As showy as Atylotus bicolor is, we figured there would be much information available. However, we ran into an informational brick wall. Apparently the insect is very rare, at least in the U.S., and we have found only one other modern record, near Utica, New York. Most records are north of Lake Erie in southern Ontario and scattered Canadian locales, but even there it doesn’t seem frequent.

We later found out that another Cleveland museum employee, Grai Oleksy, had documented this fly in Mentor Marsh last year. As far as we know, that’s the first Ohio record.

As striking as the golden velveteen fly is, there surely would be other records if it were frequent and widespread. From our research, it appears nearly nothing is known of its life cycle, other than that the larvae occupy damp leaf litter.

One might ask “What good is the golden velveteen fly?” I would answer with a quote from famed conservationist Aldo Leopold: “To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering.”

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccormac.blogspot.com.

Sandhill Cranes Migrating

Sandhill Cranes at Tantramar 

Sandhill Crane

In late September and into October a group of 7 Sandhill Cranes (Grus canadensis) stopped over at Tantramar Marsh during their migration.  The sightings of Sandhill Cranes in New Brunswick have increased gradually over the last 30 years usually in the spring and fall.  The birds are usually on their migrations from breeding grounds in the north to their wintering areas in the south (or return).  Sandhill Cranes breed from Siberia and Alaska across the far north to Hudson Bay and western Ontario.  They spend their winters in California and from Arizona to Florida; also Mexico and the Caribbean Islands.  Some are permanent residents of Florida.  The birds we see here are probably coming from their nesting areas on Baffin Island or northern Quebec.  The Tantramar is a good stopover site because of its good feeding potential.  Its wide open areas also offer good visibility and thus good safety for the birds.

The first documented record of this species was from Nauwigewauk in September, 1984.  There were also two previous sight records from 1973 and 1981.  There have been no breeding records from NB but one pair spent part of a summer at Havelock.  A single bird also spent most of a summer in the Shediac area.  

Sandhill Crane

There are two forms of the Sandhill Crane recognized, the Greater and the Lesser.  The Greater is 117 cm/46" tall and is the species of central Canada and westward.  The Lesser is 104 cm/41" tall and is often found in the east.  There is an intermediate form which is found in the mid-continent area. 

There is only one species of crane that is likely to be seen here, although any crane found here is rare.  Another crane species found in North America is the Whooping Crane.  This species came close to extinction in the mid-1900s but is very slowly recovering due to great work done by recovery programs in the US.  A Whooping Crane has never been seen in New Brunswick.  There is another crane species that could be seen here but never has been, the Common Crane from Europe.  There is usually about one sighting per year of a Common Crane in North America, usually with flocks of Sandhill Cranes.  We should always look for this species when we see Sandhill Cranes.  Common Cranes are always gray and their plumage is never brown-stained.  The adult is black-necked with a white nape.  

Sandhill Cranes Flying [Kathy Ferdinand Illsley Photo]

Sandhill Cranes perform elaborate dances both for courtship and mate bonding.  These dances are accompanied by elaborate, complex duets.  It would be interesting to hear their bugling and rattling turned into a singing duet.  

The top two photos in this blog were taken by me from various cranes visiting New Brunswick.  I especially like the photo of the seven flying cranes which recently visited Tantramar and is presented here by permission.  For more information on the Sandhill Crane, use the 'Search' feature on this blog.  

Autumn Walks

With the cooler days,

the leaves have begun to change colour and have started to fall.

The geraniums are still blooming and will continue to do so until the first frosts.

This lovely area above the lake is called Mont Pèlerin

My son drove me up here recently on a very short visit to Switzerland.

It was still so warm that we had to peel off our jackets.

There was a lovely wooded area too with the sunshine illuminating the leaves.

Nearer home, both in my neighbourhood and down at the park,

the leaves seem to change in colour daily.

These are from a line of trees in the street in my neighbourhood.

My favourite time for walks is late afternoon when the lighting is so beautiful

When green and orange-browns mingle

Down to the Mont Repos Park to see the new plantations.

The flowerbed is looking beautiful and the chrysanthemums in the big pots

will look wonderful when the tiny buds open.

I walk down to the park regularly.

A closer look at the lovely leaves

The hydrangea are still blooming

I really like the leaf decorated paving stones near the little park café under the chestnut trees.

These are just two of the many. They are all different.

Rich purple Asters in lovely contrast to the other autumn colours

The first chrysanthemum buds are starting to open

It seems to be a good year for berries

Their shiny bright colour makes me linger as I admire them on my walk

Leaves bob up and down in a slight breeze against the colourful blur of the background

After some night rain, a leaf still holds a tiny lake of rainwater in the shade

Tiny St. John's Wort wild flowers still bloom

Here is a larger version which is often planted on slopes in gardens 

Here are my favourite leaves of the month so far. I have used them for this month's header.

A collage of some of my much loved scenes as I went on my autumn walks.