Well, it happened. I was watering the flowers on the front porch when a bird zoomed out of the phoebe nest and flew into a nearby tree. At first I thought it was the mother phoebe, but when I checked the nest, it was empty! The young phoebe had fledged! I watched him fly from one branch to another, which told me he had no injuries. Mama phoebe was close by, so she will show him the ropes. I didn’t expect it to happen so soon, but I’m happy that the little guy was able to leave the nest and start life on his own.
Sometimes, particularly in late spring and early summer, when juvenile birds haven’t yet grown in their adult plumage, it’s tough to identify them. Other times, a new bird shows up that you haven’t seen before and it doesn’t look like anything in the bird field guides. Don’t you just hate it when that happens?
I came across this bird on the side of the gravel road we live on. It’s not a great picture and he’s well camouflaged, so you have to look closely. I thought it might be an Ovenbird, but no. The bird that I think it is is sparrow-sized and likes areas with rushing streams and clear brooks, while its northern counterpart prefers swamps and bogs.
This one really threw me. I became very excited when I first saw it – a new bird to add to my list of birds seen on our farm (65 and counting). I felt sure that the reddish-brown on the bird’s breast would give it away, but no such luck. I was beginning to get frustrated when I figured it out. We have a lot of them on our farm; this one is a juvenile.
Can you identify one or both of these birds?
This morning I thought both baby birds had succumbed to the attack of the black snake last night. The smaller of the two was cold to the touch and obviously dead; the larger one, though still warm to the touch, was unresponsive and I presumed, dying.
You can imagine my surprise when a couple hours later I heard a little chirp. At first I thought I was hearing the birds outside, but when I checked, one of the babies was moving. I could see his eyes were open and as I approached, his beak opened wide – he was hungry!
I couldn’t put the nest back on the ledge for fear the baby would fall out, so I placed it and the little bird in a hanging pot of petunias close to the site of the original nest and waited to see what happened. The distraught parents had been hanging around all morning, not knowing what to do. When the baby heard them calling, he began cheeping and no sooner had I walked away than they flew over. They were both very animated, obviously glad to see that one of their chicks had survived.
Here’s a picture of the little guy in the nest this evening. He’s alert and eating.
I hope he makes it. Only time will tell if he suffered any internal injuries.
During the bird nesting season, our porch rafters are quite a popular place. Last spring, I wrote about the Eastern Phoebes that raised five offspring on our front porch (http://woodandfield.wordpress.com/2012/05/23/safe-haven/).
This spring, the pair returned to build their nest of mud, lichens, and moss on the same ledge where they successfully raised their offspring last year. Likewise, a pair of Eastern Bluebirds returned to raise another generation in a birdhouse on the front porch. Adding to the menagerie, House Wrens are nesting on the back porch. I find it amazing that some birds choose to raise their young so close to all our comings and goings, not to mention the noise from the lawn mower and weed whacker, and dogs racing around barking at the deer, fox, and other critters that occasionally wander through.
The list of nest predators is a long one: hawks, owls, crows, blue jays, weasels, fox, squirrels, snakes, and cats. In the wild, the odds are stacked against the young nestlings. So, weighing the scales, it would seem the lesser of the two evils to endure the closeness of humans. In any event, it ended well for all the little ones last year. All of the offspring survived to leave the nest and start out life on their own.
But, alas, the nestlings can’t be protected from every predator. Last night while we were watching TV, we heard a loud “thump” out on the porch. When we investigated, we saw that a black snake had knocked down the phoebe nest and was in the process of eating one of the babies(!) My husband relocated the snake to the woods while I inspected the nest, which was, amazingly, still largely in tact. Two babies were under the nest and were still alive, so I scooped up the nest and babies and took them into the house for the night.
By this morning, the babies had died, probably from internal injuries suffered from the fall. I know it’s a part of Nature, but loss of any life makes me sad. I take hope in knowing that in this season of renewal, perhaps the phoebes will try again. I miss the pair’s constant “phoebe, phoebe” back-and-forth calling as they busily went about their parenting responsibilities.
When I bought my farm, I did not know what a bargain I had in the bluebirds, daffodils and thrushes; as little did I know what sublime mornings and sunsets I was buying. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Rainbows, appearing during rainfall or right after the rain stops, are a beautiful though fairly rare optical and meteorological phenomena. The multicolored arc is caused by reflection of light in water droplets in the Earth’s atmosphere, resulting in a spectrum of light appearing in the sky. Rainbows caused by sunlight always appear in the section of sky directly opposite the sun.
I captured this rainbow in the Eastern sky looking toward the Short Hill Mountains just as the rain was ending and the sun broke through the clouds.
A rainbow does not exist in a particular location in the sky or at a specific distance, but comes from any water droplets viewed from a certain angle relative to the sun’s rays. The rainbow’s apparent position depends on the observer’s location and the position of the sun. All raindrops refract and reflect the sunlight in the same way, but only the light from some raindrops reaches the observer’s eye. This light is what constitutes the rainbow for that observer.
A rainbow spans a continuous spectrum of colors. Any distinct bands perceived are an artifact of human color vision, and no banding of any type is seen in a black-and-white photo of a rainbow, only a smooth gradation of intensity to a maximum, then fading towards the other side. For colors seen by the human eye, the most commonly cited and remembered sequence is Newton’s seven-fold red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. (source: Wikipedia)
Rainbows form a complete circle, but we only see the top part of the rainbow because the Earth’s horizon blocks our view of the lower arc. To see a full circle rainbow, one would have to be able to look down on it with the sun behind you, which is only possible from an aircraft (or skydiving as in the photo below).
Amazing things happen in Nature, but all too often we take them for granted. If we take the time to look just a little deeper, we will discover fascinating things and events unfolding around us every day.
Every time I drive South Buffalo Road near my home, I pass by a completely dry creek bed. The width and depth of the creek bed is evidence that a fairly big creek once ran through here. The deep channel, cut by hundreds of thousands of gallons of water passing through each day, eroded the soil and exposed the rocks left behind.
Along this same road I also noticed several large, circular depressions, which I learned are sinkholes. The sinkhole pictured below is only about 12 feet deep, but since I became aware that our area is filled with sinkholes, I have seen some much deeper. Sometimes their true depth is not known because the “bottom” is obscured by vines and tree limbs.
I did some research and found out that sink holes and “disappearing creeks” have a connection. The Ridge and Valley Province of the Blue Ridge where we live has a type of topography known as “karst.” Karst terrain is characterized by springs, caves, sinkholes, disappearing streams, and a unique hydrogeology that results in highly productive aquifers.
Karst terrain is largely supported by rocks such as limestone or dolomite that are highly porous and broken down by water. As water from streams or rainfall dissolves the bedrock, fractures occur. Over time, these fractures are enlarged and an underground drainage system begins to develop, allowing more and more water to pass through the system. Eventually, large hollow areas can be carved out underground and these unstable areas become vulnerable to earthquakes, construction, groundwater pumping, hurricanes, or other forces, which can cause cave-ins, or sink holes.
Streams that begin as runoff from mountain slopes often disappear into the subsurface when the water comes into contact with karst bedrock. These disappearing streams are called “sinking streams.” The water flows underground, emerging as a spring somewhere along the valley floor, sometimes miles away from where it plunged underground.
What all this means is that the creek I saw didn’t dry up – it’s what’s called a “sinking stream.” At some point along its course, the creek dropped through a fissure in the underlying rock and now flows underground. Because much of a karst watershed can be hidden underground, it’s hard to track exactly where water comes from and where it goes. I’m fascinated by the karst topography of the Blue Ridge, which means another post on this subject sometime in the future.
With so much rain, everything is growing at an incredible rate and new wildflowers are popping up every day. Just yesterday, I noticed Ox-Eye Daisies in the fields and Fire Pinks and Goatsbeard along the roadsides. Fleabane, a member of the aster family that tends to grow prodigiously in Virginia, is probably the most common wildflower in bloom now.
We’re really trying to get our garden and orchard going this year, sometimes working in the mud because of all the rain. I’ve been busy adding perennials to the rock garden I started last year and found this little salamander hiding under one of the plants. I tried to identify him, but there are just too many salamanders in Virginia. Does anyone have any idea what species this guy might belong to?
We also have what I believe to be a Little Brown Bat roosting in our porch rafters. I was surprised to learn that while most bats hibernate in large colonies during the winter, they may remain solitary the rest of the year, roosting in trees as well as man-made structures. I hope this one gobbles up lots of insects!
Each year, the same birds (or their offspring) return to raise another generation and there are nests everywhere. Bluebirds and phoebes have nests in the porch rafters and are busy making dozens of food runs everyday. Crazy wrens will nest anywhere: a pair is raising its young in the log splitter! My next post will probably be an update on the nesting birds.