I happened to glance out in the backyard after helping to move the refrigerator around in the kitchen this morning and spied a red fox and its kit exploring the area around the swing set. Just one kit, but a cute one, that ran circles around its parent, nose to the ground.
Spring draws ever nearer, the days are longer, and the migrating and resident backyard birds are in courtship mode preparing for another breeding season. Some of these pairs might form for just one season (or less) — most often in the case of species where the female does the lion’s share of nest building, incubating, and feeding. Take Red-winged Blackbirds or House Wrens or Mallard Ducks for example.
But many bird species, especially long-lived ones, where both partners of the pair engage in incubating eggs and rearing of chicks each year, form pair bonds that last the lifetime of the individuals. In the case of the Laysan Albatross that can live more than 50 years in the wild, that is a really long-term bond! Note: the average length of a marriage in the U.S. is just over 8 years.
Here are some examples of species with long-term pair bonds from previous Backyard Biology blog posts over the past 10 years:
Side note: I don’t want to give the wrong impression that the pair bonds between the sexes in birds is an absolute in their monogamous relationship. It has often been shown, that even in these long-lived and long-term partners, extra-pair (sneaky) copulations do occur, and not all the chicks in the nest have the male partner’s DNA.
It is often said that “variety is the spice of life”, and we recognize that almost all individuals of a single animal species exhibit some variation from one another. But sometimes that variation is markedly and drastically different — and we wonder how that variation came about and what the consequences of it are. For example, we came across a large flock of wild turkey hens at Sax-Zim bog, foraging along the side of a field, almost all of them identical to one another, except….
The turkey hen on the far right is a “smoke” color morph, a bird that lacks the normal expression of the rich browns and reds we usually see in turkey feathers.
How did this happen? Coloration of feathers in birds is a complex process, and can be completely different in males and females (leading to the basis for why males are so much “prettier” than females). A given stretch of genetic code for feather color in birds can be “alternatively spliced” as the pigment is being expressed in newly developing feathers, leading to wildly different outcomes between the two sexes and at different times of year in male birds or between juvenile and adult birds. But that isn’t the entire explanation for “smoke” color morphs in wild turkeys.
Coloration of bird feathers is largely dependent on eumelanin pigments that produce brown, black, and gray colors and pheomelanin pigments that produce yellowish and reddish coloration. Combining amounts of these pigments like an artist does with a paint palette is what results in the variety of rich color in the plumage.
The “smoke” morph plumage lacks the full expression of a lot of browns and blacks, and it has virtually no red and yellow highlights in its plumage. The morph is very infrequently seen in the wild population, occurring in only about 1 in 100 birds on average, and thus, it is a recessive mutation of melanin expression, especially pheomelanin. More interesting is the fact that the “smoke” morph seems to occur only in females, which probably means it is a sex-linked recessive trait.
There aren’t enough of these birds in the wild population to determine whether the “smoke” morph is at a distinct disadvantage in the winter, or whether they are more or less attractive to breeding males in the spring. But this color morph has been seen by turkey hunters from Oregon to Tennessee, so the mutation must occur in most wild populations.
Watching Black-capped Chickadees flitting about in the vegetation in the winter, you have to marvel at how successful they are at finding food and staying warm in such a challenging environment. I wrote a lot more about this in an earlier blog post: “Baby, it’s cold out there”.
But there is another cousin of the Black-capped species that winters even farther north, in even more intemperate (in the winter) habitat: the Boreal Chickadee – named for the fact that it is a permanent resident of the coniferous boreal forests of Canada and Alaska.
Boreal Chickadees spend most of their time in the spruce and balsam fir forests, where they forage for insects and spiders in the middle of the trees, rather than out on the tips of branches like the Black-capped species. When food is plentiful in the summer, Boreal Chickadees will cache food items in cracks in the bark of the underside of tree limbs where it is protected from winter snowfall, and then they secure them in place with their saliva. It is thought that these storage sites are communal property of the flock, so the birds don’t have to remember exactly where they cached individual stores. This food reserve is critical to their winter survival, in addition to seeds and hibernating insects they might find. Most of their European relatives, the titmice, and Mountain Chickadees have also been observed to use food caches as a winter food reserve.
Not much is known about the behavior and physiology of this lesser-known relative of our popular Black-capped Chickadee, especially their strategy for surviving in the intemperate environment of the boreal forest in winter. I guess not many researchers are willing to brave the conditions where Boreal Chickadees live in the winter — I certainly wouldn’t!
In the Minnesota boreal forest around Sax-Zim bog, we finally found and photographed the hawk counterpart of the Great Gray Owl (from the last post). Rough-legged Hawks are also mouse specialists, but use a completely different strategy to hunt their prey compared to the owls. Where the owls use auditory cues to localize mice under the snow, these particular hawks use visual ones, even honing in on urine trails of voles, which reflect UV light the hawks can detect. Then they perch, sit and wait, and pounce when movements in the snow indicate mouse (in this case, vole) activity.
Rough-legged Hawks are the most northerly breeding Buteo (broad-winged) hawks in North America, setting up breeding territories in the far northern Canadian and Alaskan tundra areas to prey almost exclusively on lemmings there. But they leave the tundra and migrate south to boreal areas of southern Canada and the northern U.S. that have lots of marsh and prairie expanse where they can hunt for voles and other mice where there is less snow cover.
Rough-legged Hawks have very long wings for their body size (up to 60 inches in a large, 3.5 pound female) and they are adept at soaring effortlessly over long distances to hunt for mouse activity. Winter birds on a foraging territory in Idaho had home ranges of up to 200 square miles that they traversed over the course of several days of hunting. Researchers estimated that the bird could sustain itself in the winter on a diet of about 5 mice per day. On days when hunting success was limited, the hawks did much more perching than flying, conserving energy for the next day’s hunting attempts.
I won’t forget this bird — we’ve made four trips to Sax-Zim bog to see it, and finally found one right next to the road, rather than sitting a 1/2 mile away or flying hundreds of feet over our heads. Its striking plumage, feathered feet, and black and white wing patterns should make it easy to ID in the future.
The best way to catch a mouse is to be a Great Gray Owl, with hearing out of this world to localize the mouse under a foot of snow, a dive bomb attack force that can break through a crust of snow hard enough to support the weight of a 180 pound man, sharp talons to grab the mouse scurrying along under all that snow, and a crushing beak that can separate the mouse brain from its spinal cord.
On a one-day trip to Sax-Zim bog, we were lucky to find a champion mouser Great Gray Owl hunting right next to the road along one of the boundaries of the bog. It caught and ate an amazing four mice in under an hour. In fact, it was 100% successful in its mousing attempts!
I’ve put together a series of images into a very short video, accompanied by special “hunting” music so you can enjoy what I was able to see and photograph. If you’re looking at this post in your email, you might need to go to the Backyard Biology website to view the video (click on the title of the post in your email to get to the site). The video is best viewed in full screen (rectangular icon in the lower right corner of the video as it plays), then hit ESC to return to the blog post.
In the video sequence you see the owl take off, from a perch, fly quickly to a site and dive to the snow feet first, dip its head down to the feet to grab the mouse in its beak, fluff its wings above the snow level to take off, fly to a perch, spend some time looking around (not shown in the video), take the vole’s head into its mouth and crush it, transfer the vole to its feet and squeeze it some, then back to the mouth where it is swallowed.
Our Great Gray caught four voles in a very short span of time. But on average they may catch and eat up to seven voles a day while hunting in the early morning and late dusk hours during the coldest winter days.
That’s what we say in the MN northland, when the temperatures drop below 0F. The other day when I ventured out in the early morning, it was -17F (-27C). When I got back in the early afternoon, it had made it all the way up to -3F (-19C), which is just barely tolerable if the sun is out and there is no wind.
And the wildlife aren’t enjoying the cold temperatures any more than I am. Little birds don’t show up at the feeders until mid-morning, and the squirrels (both gray and red) are usually found huddled next to the tree trunk with tails curled over their backs, or basking along the trunk to soak up warmth in the early morning hours.
For those animals (and humans) that can afford to do so, the best solution to surviving cold temperature extremes is to fire up the metabolic furnace. No one enjoys standing out in the cold shivering intensely, but that and the physical exertion of exercise are the first line of defense in staying warm. The trick is to preserve the heat inside the body by improving insulation with a nice layer of subdermal fat, a thick fur coat, and minimizing the surface area exposed to the air.
Another strategy for staying warm in mammals (but rarely in birds) is metabolizing brown fat, which is a special kind of adipose tissue located along the vertebral column, heart, and kidneys. Brown fat is highly vascularized and contains lots of heat producing mitochondrial organelles. The heat produced by a process of non-shivering thermogenesis in the central core of the body can then be circulated to other parts of the body.
So, bundle up and think warm thoughts — the days are getting longer and the sun is getting higher in the sky each day. Winter won’t last too much longer.
What is that, you ask? In 2002, the Animal Welfare Coalition created a National Bird Day on January 5, to raise awareness of the challenges our feathered friends face in this era of extreme environmental changes to their lives.
Birds are diverse, colorful, interesting to watch, beautiful to see and to listen to, easy to find (mostly), and can be predictors of environmental changes that affect us — literally, the canaries in the coal mine. The behavior of my backyard birds is often just as telling as the latest weather report. For example, judging from the frenzy of activity going on at the bird feeders today, the thermometer must be headed for negative numbers again.
There are well over 10,000 species of birds in the world, but their numbers and their diversity are decreasing every year. Hundreds of species have become extinct already, and more than a thousand are threatened with extinction currently. The species diversity of birds in the tropics of Africa and of South America is astounding, but is diminishing as pressure from habitat loss/alteration and human encroachment increases in natural areas.
Birds are our links to creatures that lived in the past. Their closest living relatives are the crocodiles, both groups of which descended from the dinosaurs that ruled the Mesozoic world. But they survived the massive extinction period at the end of the Mesozoic, and have diversified into thousands of niches that don’t overlap or compete with mammals. They are an amazing evolutionary success story.
Birds are high energy creatures with unique anatomy and physiology that set astounding records among vertebrate animals for things like:
- fastest heart beat (>600 beats per min in a Ruby-throated Hummingbird),
- highest altitude flight (>30,000 feet in Bar-headed Geese, Common Cranes in Europe, Ruppell’s Griffon Vulture where the air is only 6% oxygen instead of 21% at sea level),
- fastest flight (>200 mph in Peregrine Falcons),
- greatest g-force tolerance pulling up from a dive (>25g in Peregrine Falcons and Gyrfalcons — that’s 25 times the earth’s gravity!),
- greatest speed plunging into water (>50 mph in Gannets)
- greatest weight capable of sustained flight (44 pounds, Great Bustard)
- longest time airborne (>10 months!, flying 14,000 miles, Common Swift)
- longest migration (>55,000 miles in one year, Arctic Tern)
You can’t help but marvel at the accomplishments of the birds, and so on this special National Day of Birds, take time to get out and enjoy birds. And to quote fellow bird-watcher/photographer, Debbie (The Itinerant Birder):
“Watch a bird, feed a bird, learn about a bird, donate money for a bird! “
A fellow blogger reminded me that over the course of a year, or a decade, we write a lot of words about a lot of photos on our blogs. I have been writing this blog since July 2011, roughly a month after I retired. Somehow, I completely missed celebrating the 10th anniversary of “Backyard Biology” in July this year, and so after the end of 2021, I’m summarizing the highlights and milestones of the blog in this post.
Since that first entry, I have written 1689 posts, and the blog has had 415,000+ visitors (some just came once, some visited several to many times), with a total of more than 640,000 views during the past ten years. During that decade span I’ve written more than 307,000 words, which is about the equivalent of the word length of 4 novels, and I’m now finding that I am repeating myself, writing about the same topics in much the same way. And so the posts are more infrequent, and are now focused more on the natural history of the global backyard, rather than just my own backyard.
During the past 10 years, the post with by far the most views on one day (722) was on May 23, 2018, “Waterfall Extravaganza” in Hraufossar, Iceland, where there are 900 meters of continuous waterfalls streaming from a monster glacier and falling over impervious lava rock.
The same three or four posts seem to generate the most interest every year, probably as a result of a Google search for an answer. The top three each year tend to be: “How many seeds in a sunflower seed head?”, “Gigantic black horse fly”, and “Scary-looking, big, black wasp alert”. The post on sunflower seed heads gets about 30,000 views a year. Inquiring minds want to know!
This year, the most viewed post (528 views on October 17) was “Reflections”, which included some photos of images reflected in rippling water, like this one of Bald Cypress in the Mobile-Tensaw river delta.
In fact, the posts from our Fall trip to Alabama, a unique environment I had never seen before, were the most viewed posts of the entire year. Lagging far behind in views (350) was the post I entitled “Apocalypse”, thinking that would really capture readers’ attention.
And now it’s time to find some new material to showcase on Backyard Biology, with adventures near and far in 2022. Happy reading!
Another year of Covid prohibitions on activities, but not such a bad year for seeing new places and new species. The highlights month by month look like this: