Ripples 5/11/23

Posted on by May 16, 2023

Ripples from the Dunes by Kennedy Zittel, Naturalist

The other week some of our staff went out to part of our preserve to spread some culver’s root seeds in a prairie where the rusty-patched bumble bee has been spotted.

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining with the occasional fluffy white cumulus clouds floating by. Goldfinches called from the treetops while the occasional turkey vulture soared seemingly in the clouds above. Frogs were heard calling from the nearby forest’s creek, a wonderful sound of spring. Rabbits hopped across the path while a woodchuck ran off to seek shelter from the people invading its peaceful day. 

Besides being a reason to be outside in such beautiful weather, we were out there spreading Culver’s root seeds for an even more important reason… Culver’s root is one of the federally endangered rusty-patched bumble bee’s favorite flowers! And who can blame them? Culver’s root is great! Besides looking beautiful, Culver’s root is a very important native pollinator plant. 

Culver’s root (Veronicastrum virginicum) is a flowering plant that is a member of the plantain family (Plantaginaceae). An unbranched stem with whorled deep green-colored leaves leads up to beautiful white flower clusters that are described to resemble candelabra. The plant can grow anywhere from 2-6 feet tall. They prefer sunny areas with semi-wet soil, so they do very well in the prairies here at Woodland Dunes. 

Culver’s Root is an amazing pollinator plant. Their bloom period (early summer-mid summer) fills an important gap between the end of spring ephemeral blooming and the start of a lot of other prairie plants that begin to bloom mid-late summer. They are a favorite to many pollinator species, bees and butterflies alike! 

In fact, they are so popular that I often start my pollinator surveys looking at who is flying around the Culver’s root, as they are sure to have some pollinators buzzing or fluttering around. Just last summer I saw a rusty-patch buzzing around the flowers of a Culver’s root plant, showing that they really do enjoy this neat plant.  

If you would like to see what Culver’s root looks like in person, or any of the pollinators that enjoy the plant, a good place to check it out is right along Willow Trail! The white flowers stand out amongst the purples of the blazing star and bergamot, and the yellow of St. John’s Wort shrubs. They can be found growing directly next to the trail in the prairie area near Todd’s Pond. Once summer is in full swing, the weather is warmer, bees are buzzing, and flowers are blooming, head on out to the prairie area to see some of the Culver’s root for yourself, and perhaps some really neat pollinators too!

Photo- rusty-patched bumblebee on Culver’s root flower, from UW-Madison Arboretum
 

Ripples 5/4/23

Posted on by May 4, 2023
photo of House wrenFor nature lovers, the recent cool spring weather is a mixed blessing. Of course, we’re all tired of windy 45 degree days, some sprinkled with rain.  The earlier week of warm weather seemed to quickly kick spring into gear, greening up the grass, budding the trees, and forcing the daffodils and magnolias suddenly. Then, the return to reality slowed everything way down.  Spring still progressed, but at a slower pace that allow us to enjoy it for a longer time. This week we began a small fencing project that brought us to a quiet little corner of the nature preserve where we were able to catch up on the outdoor world. 
 
Recently, birds returned in waves- suddenly white-throated sparrows and ruby-crowned kinglets were everywhere after the warm snap, but the cool after has caused them to linger. They don’t want to fly into a fierce headwind.  However, even when it’s 45 outside, if you find a sunny spot out of the wind, the incredibly enthusiastic songs of the kinglets are delightful, along with increasing numbers of other birds. Not quite the showy orioles and grosbeaks yet, but the more subtle (in appearance) members of their kin. Today I heard the first house wren for the year in our preserve- a song almost as energetic as the kinglet’s.  And a towhee.  And a boldly singing goldfinch, dressed in his summer yellow now. As we worked in the mud, tree swallows flew overhead, a pileated woodpecker sang from the woods, and a number of blue jays called harshly from all four directions. We were hoping to hear ravens, which may be nesting nearby, or a red-shouldered hawk which appeared to stay all winter, but they decided to be elsewhere today.
 
In the swamp, marsh marigolds are beginning to bloom. The alders are blooming too, and willows are in various stages depending on the species. As we dug for  our post installing mission, we were pleasantly surprised by the trees and shrubs slowly colonizing the old farm field in which we worked- red-osier dogwood, yellow dogwood which we planted a few years ago, different willows, birches, alders, popples, and balsam poplar, all beginning to bud. There were a couple of invasives- buckthorn and honeysuckle, which we’ll have to come back for later.  And the poor ash trees- the last to bud in spring, and even then often clipped by frost- they seem to be so sensitive.  They already show signs of woodpeckers chipping back their bark to get at the grubs of the emerald ash borer. They won’t be with us long, sadly, but we’ve planted as many trees as we can to take their place.  
 
And on the ground beneath the trees, the early greens of wild strawberries, brome grass and purple top, goldenrods, and a number of sedges, some of them in hummocks, indicating that this is indeed a wetland, and if not for the trees it would want to be a sedge meadow.
 
This May is still early spring in our part of Wisconsin, as far as nature is concerned. The fact that it isn’t moving along too quickly gives us a chance to appreciate all of the many, many parts of the natural world, and realize that they all are tied to each other. We only experience this re-awakening for a short time each year, and we’re lucky to have a little extra time to savor and marvel at it. Soon the leaves will be out and the world will be dominated by an exquisite green mantle, unfortunately obscuring the wonderful little songbirds as they arrive from the tropics. But, the leaves make us work harder to see that which we seek, also making the glimpses we are granted even more.
As winds turn south, a tide of both birds and new growth will envelop us. One doesn’t have to try to be everywhere to experience that- using one place as a quiet reference reveals amazing things about our seasons. Even if you’re just digging post holes.

photo- house wren by S. King, US NPS – [1] at US NPS, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8156486

Ripples 4/27/23

Posted on by April 27, 2023

by Nancy Nabak, Communications Coordinator

photo of 3 chimney swifts inside of chimney

Chimney swifts inside chimney at the Dunes

I can’t wait. Any day now the high-pitched chittering sounds of Chimney Swifts will be heard here again as they return from their winter homes in South America. They are such cool birds, and I’ve developed a crush on them that favors above most of my other bird crushes.

I think one of the main reasons that I like this bird so much is because of its tenacious spirit – spitting in the face of habitat loss. Initially, Chimney Swifts nested in the hollows of old growth forest snags. As we pioneered and clear-cut our way across the country while settling, their forest habitat was lost. But this clever bird species found a way to adapt to new habitat – the chimneys that were being built. Thus, the name Chimney Swift (originally, Audubon called them American Swifts).

They are small, unique birds, about swallow-sized, with a rapid and erratic flight pattern. Their short, tapered tails and curve-shaped wings make them look like flying cigars. But I think their most unique attribute is that while migrating, large numbers of swifts, even into the thousands, can be found in the early evenings entering uncapped brick chimneys to roost for the night. 

As I said, I can’t wait for their return. We are lucky enough to have swifts nesting in our chimney here at Woodland Dunes. Even better, my desk is near the chimney, so I can hear them chittering while they’re nest-building and feeding their young during the day. It’s an audible treat to witness while I work behind my desk.

We’re doing all we can to help this species because in the last 50 years, it has experienced a 50% decline in its population. One way is by planting native species this spring, which also helps address the declining insect population issue. These plants attract pollinators and other flying insects that swifts love to feast on.

We are also creating new partnerships including the newly launched Wisconsin-based campaign, SOS Save Our Songbirds. Together, we are advocating for homeowners and rental property owners with green space to join in the native planting campaign. For example, coneflowers are a colorful and easy native plant to grow which attracts hummingbirds, butterflies, bees and other flying insects – producing a healthy food source for Chimney Swifts. The great thing here is, when you address one issue, you’re also taking care of another.

We’re also working with Minnesota biologists who are launching a Chimney Swift migration project. This project will put transmitter tags on our nesting swifts to learn their migration routes and target key conservation efforts. 

Keep your eyes and ears open for this amazing bird’s return. Its chitter becomes music to your ears and its acrobatic flight a delight to watch. Just knowing this clever bird is out there to enjoy is both exciting and calming. Please, let’s do all we can to make sure we have many days and evenings of splendor with this bird as our entertainer.

Ripples 4/20/23

Posted on by April 20, 2023
photo of Ross' gooseLast Saturday was the annual Midwest Sandhill Crane Count, held each year the third Saturday of April. I’ve been doing these counts for more than 25 years, and they always seem to mark the start of the bird monitoring season for me- the times when we start collecting bird data for research. These include the crane count, migration seasonal counts, the summer bird survey, Breeding Bird Survey, and finally the Christmas Bird Count. Weather for the crane count can be a crapshoot, so to speak.  This year was wonderful- about 60 degrees with clouds but no wind- a perfect birdwatching day.  Other years have not been so good- I remember a morning of about 12 degrees after snowfall the previous day.  That morning I mostly huddled in the car with the window rolled down so that I could hear, sipping hot coffee until the thermos was empty.  I still recorded cranes, singing their loud courtship calls despite the chill, but other birds were huddled and hard to find.
 
For me, the crane count isn’t just about cranes, it’s the birding “opener.”  For a number of years we (myself and another staff member) have walked Willow Trail at Woodland Dunes to record cranes and all the other birds we see or hear. Willow Trail is wonderful in that one walks through very “birdy” habitat- generous cover provided by dogwood, willow, and alder shrubs sprinkled with taller trees, ponds alongside, and eventually a view of the West Twin and its adjacent marshes.  The variation in habitat results in the sighting of many species of birds, at least for the early spring season.
 
We found four pairs of sandhill cranes along our route in our survey block.  We are always happy for this- cranes were almost eliminated in Wisconsin by hunting and the abuse of the land some hundred years ago. In the 1930’s there were a dozen or so pairs recorded.  After being protected, their population increased slowly, as they only produce a chick or two per year, and many don’t survive. They’ve now recovered to the point where they are found throughout the State, and we found about eight birds in the square mile we monitor.
 
But along the way we found dozens of other species in our protected habitat- kinglets, thrashers, towhees, tree swallows, snipe and woodcock, mallards and teal, mergansers, grebes, Canada, and even Ross’s geese, a first for us on this count. Ross’s geese are smaller than either Canada or snow geese, but are typically white with black wingtips.  They and other birds foraged over mudflats left by receding Lake levels, a habitat that has been absent along the river for the last few years.  
 
This year’s crane count had no downside for us. The birds offered good looks to us, temperatures were great, it didn’t rain, and we had an enjoyable two mile walk.  It was worth waking up just after four o’clock in the morning, and left plenty of time for a nap later in the day.  Sure, it takes a little effort, but without the incentive to get up and watch birds, I would have missed the lovely morning, and the Ross’s geese.
 
It was another good birding day.
 
 photo- Ross’s goose Andrew C., Wikipedia

Ripples 4/13/23

Posted on by April 14, 2023
photo of American woodcock This is one of my favorite times of year.  As winter grudgingly releases its grasp on our world, nature creeps back in the most subtle, and wonderful ways.  It is amazing to me, as I’m sure it has been to people here for thousands of years, that daily cycles of temperature, driven by increasing dosage of solar radiation and dissolved gases can force sweet sap up into and out from the trunk of a tree.  A wonderful example of something that is freely offered to us by nature, as the tree has more than enough for its own needs. After collection of the maple sap, which this year for me amounted to five gallons, comes the exercise in patience which is boiling until syrup.
 
I have no need for gallons of syrup, and don’t strive to produce much. I can’t consume a lot of sugar, and simply don’t need it in any form. However, the continuation of the process, begun by people who knew of nature and whom I admire for it, is what’s important. Sap can be harvested from any maple, even European ones I’ve learned. I don’t live in a sugar bush, and Woodland Dunes doesn’t have that many sugar maples- mostly reds. So the sap I boil is usually from red maples or the boxelders around my house (yes, even lowly boxelders are maples).  It doesn’t take long to harvest the sap I need- I make do with whatever I can get. It’s not a competition for me- it just makes me happy to do it.
 
I don’t always have large blocks of free time, so boiling is often interrupted, and done over a couple of days.  Sometimes it starts in the afternoon and goes into the night and that’s often the best part.  It’s often cold, but the run of maple sap coincides with other marvels of spring. Quietly sitting next to a small pan filled with boiling sap in the dark next to the garage, one becomes aware of other changes in the neighborhood as spring advances.  Early in the evening, kids can be heard horsing around outside- I’m really glad kids still do that. Not all of them are stuck in front of screens- perhaps some parents “encourage” them to get out of the house as mine did. It was one of the best things they could do for me.
 
And as twilight deepens, one hears the first robins singing their dusk songs, and the last cardinals ‘chip’ as they come in to the feeder. Geese fly overhead making their way back to Lake Michigan, or the Little Manitowoc. Perhaps a wood frog or two chuckles from a puddle.  And then, there is a woodcock beginning his elaborate courtship routine- a very impressive marketing exercise. The chubby little males pick an open spot, their lek, and make a buzzing sound in short bursts. After a few minutes they fly upward, spiraling as they do, making a twittering sound with special narrow stiff feathers on their wings. Finally they swoop downward, warbling as they go. Then they land back at the lek and start over, repeating this from an hour or so or longer depending on how much light is present. They like twilight, not total darkness, and often stop after a while. However, if there’s a full moon, they may go on almost all night. Similarly, they do this again at dawn, stopping when it gets too light.
 
If another woodcock is close to the lek, they sometimes make kind of a grunting noise as they land, apparently to notify the other bird of their presence. It kind of sounds like they’re arguing over the spot, but the sound is more comical than threatening.  Although they are active during the day doing the usual feeding etc., their migration is nocturnal, and courtship is in between (crepuscular). I imagine they are exhausted by the time they are done migrating and mating. It’s interesting that they do their courtship display during migration- one wonders if they are successful, does one of the parents continue on north?
 
The slow process of syrupping requires us to be patient, and affords an opportunity to slow down. When one slows down, one sees and hears what is missed when we hurry, as we usually are. Sitting in an old lawn chair by an old cookstove with boiling sap at twilight is close to heaven for me. The convergence of maple sap and courtship season is no accident, but it gives us priceless moments, even if they are annual, to absorb nature as it resets itself for the year.  
 
photo- American woodcock by National Audubon Society