Late Summer Spiders
August brings more than just heat and humidity to Harmony Hill. Along with many evenings spent watching lightning dance across the sky and, with any luck, the sound of rain falling on the landscape, we notice increased insect activity in the fields and forests. This increase in insect activity serves to fuel more than a few other species that feed on insects large and small. Whether it is the diminutive Blue-gray Gnatcatcher or slightly larger Acadian Flycatcher, we see birds working continually to dine on insects. Birds are not the only animals feeding while the bounty grows in the summer sun. Reptiles and amphibians eat their fill on fenceposts and along the edges of creeks. Other insects, like dragonflies and damselflies take part, as well. But, one of the most recognizable groups of animals are seen more and more this time of year, capturing insects and working to prepare for the next generation. As we walk in the woods and notice the days shortening ever so much each day, it is not uncommon to get a face full of spider web. The orb weavers are out, and we love seeing their artistry and bask in the utility of their beautiful work. There are many spiders at Harmony Hill, but this week, let’s look at two of the more eye-catching species we have.
Of the most skillful web builders found in the lower piedmont, these two species of spiders are certainly two of the most accomplished. The Giant Lichen Orb Weaver (Araneus bicentenarius) and the Marbled Orb Weaver (Araneus marmoreus) grab your attention immediately with their beauty and are each capable of constructing webs several feet in diameter. Both species have been observed at Harmony Hill and we expect to see them through early autumn.
Giant Lichen Orb Weavers are aptly named, as they are colored exactly like balls of lichen with eight legs. That is not by accident. They are found in wooded areas, much like the mixed pine-oak-hickory woods found throughout much of Harmony Hill. Many of these trees have green and gray lichens on their trunks and limbs, which look eerily like the colors and patterns found on (Araneus bicentenarius). Or should I say, the Giant Lichen Orb Weaver looks eerily like the lichens found on the trees in the woods it inhabits.
First described in 1888 by Rev. Henry McCook, a naturalist and Presbyterian pastor from Philadelphia, the Giant Lichen Orb Weaver is found from central Canada, south to Texas and over to the east coast of the United States. 1888 saw Philadelphia celebrating its own bicentennial and Rev. McCook was such an ardent Philadelphian that the species name of "bicentenarius" is a nod to the bicentennial of his favorite city.
The Marbled Orb Weaver is often referred to as the "Halloween Spider" or "Pumpkin Spider" by some. Being colored orange and black, it doesn't take a lot of imagination to see the resemblance this species bears to a Jack-o-lantern. The dark markings on the orange abdomen of the spider give us both the common name of "marbled" and the species name of "marmoreus", which is Latin for marble. The timing of seeing them in the forests of Harmony Hill also lends to the Halloween Spider nickname, as we begin seeing it in late summer and their numbers increase through very late summer. In early fall, and even all the way to the end of October, female Marbled Orb Weavers can be found in the forests; coinciding with that fabled fall holiday on October 31st.
Both species belong to the genus Araneus, which is taken from the Latin word for spider. While there are many types of orb weaving spiders (seriously... orb weavers compose a little better than 1/4 of all spider species), Araneus spiders are separated from other orb weavers by their rounded and/or angular "shoulders". But, the shoulders we're talking about are not in relation to any of their eight legs. Nope. These shoulders are protuberances, or bumps, on the abdomens of Araneus spiders. Take a look at the photos of the spiders from above and you can see the bumps on either side of the abdomen of the spiders. They appear to be more like dimples on the Marbled Orb Weaver, but are “shoulders, nonetheless.
Araneus spiders are not known for hanging out in the middle of their orbs during the day. Unlike their orb-weaving cousins, the Argiope spiders, who post up for all the world to see, Araneus spiders retreat to the seclusion and protection of a hideaway near their webs. These hiding spots may be clumps of dead leaves, exfoliating bark or anything else that will conceal it from potential predators.
When an insect enters the web, the Araneus spider will quickly leave its hideout and run down a dry escape line to subdue its prey. We all know how sticky spider webs can be, but have you wondered how they get that adhesion power? Well, it’s as simple as the silk being manufactured in four silk glands and then spun through six spinnerets. Then, the capture lines, those circular lines which comprise the hubs that go around and around the web, are coated with a glycoprotein as they are spun. That extremely sticky glycoprotein is also covered in an aqueous layer as it adheres to the capture lines being spun, allowing this capture lines to retain their adhesive properties as the web sits out in the drying conditions of the wind and sun.
The long, straight lines which radiate out from the center of the web and anchor the web to the structures it is built from are known as radial lines. They serve as the frame on which the orb can be built.
Much more common and noticeable in the fall of the year, these two spider species are harmless to humans and do a terrific job of consuming large numbers of insects during their lives. Both species lay eggs in the autumn of the year, with the young hatching in the spring of the following year.
Next time you’re out walking in the woods and you happen to get a web firmly planted to your face and head, instead of getting upset at the spider, remember you are in its home and it is serving a wonderful pest control function. And, if that spider happens to be a Giant Lichen Orb Weaver or a Marbled Orb Weaver, take a few minutes to soak up the beauty of the spider and the lovely web it has woven.
More on our orbweaver and spider friends at Harmony Hill in the coming weeks! There are so many more spider stories to tell!
Where Did All These Rocks Come From?
Walking along the meadows and through the wooded areas of Harmony Hill, one can’t help but notice the large rock outcrops that dot the landscape. In some places, a rock will pop up here and there. While in others, the rocks dominate the view and force streams to flow around them. No matter if small or large, the granite of the piedmont dictates the flora and fauna of Harmony Hill and, like everywhere else, is the base and the backdrop of the story of the land.
It isn’t uncommon to see a beautiful rock jutting from the ground and want to step atop it to achieve a better view of the surrounding area. That desire is imbedded in us as a species, looking to survey from higher ground and get an understanding for what may be out of our normal field of vision. With that in mind, we look to stand upon the geology of Harmony Hill to get a better grasp on what is here and what we could expect to be here as we look forward.
People new to the area often see rocks in the piedmont and ask, “How on earth did those rocks get here?!” One of our favorite professors would often cite their favorite geology professor and tell of the lessons of “the was-ness of the is”. That is, looking at what is before you will give you a great bit of insight into what was once here. When we look at the granite found so prominently in places on Harmony Hill today, we are provided a time machine that tells us how they were formed and how “they got here”!
We frequently mention the “Piedmont”. Well, what does that mean? Piedmont literally means “foot of the mountain”, telling us we are not in the mountains; but, just down from them. While we aren’t in the mountains, Harmony Hill was created in the same time frame as the mountains and the geology we enjoy is a product of the same geologic activity. What activity, you ask?
To get that perspective, we need to back up a little bit. Actually, we need to back up A LOT! We must back up some 300 million years to begin getting the perspective we need! The continents as we know them now did not exist. The great supercontinent, Pangaea, included almost all of the continental crust we know today that makes up the seven modern continents. Somewhere around 250-300 million years ago, movement began in what would see the transition from Pangaea, Gondwanaland and Laurasia to Africa, Antarctica, Asia, Australia, Europe, North America and South America. Through the coalescing and opening of oceanic crust in the Wilson Cycle, these land masses moved around, violently collided (sometimes repeatedly) and separated.
North America, as part of a section of Europe, collided with what we now know as Africa more than once. With this “triple collision” a number of things resulted. One of the more notable results was the formation of the Appalachian Mountains, that extends from Alabama, through the eastern US and up into southeastern Canada. This collision lifted the now rolling Appalachians to elevations that rival (or even rose above) the Himalayan Mountains. Being about 220-250 million years older than the Himalayas, the Appalachians are now a mere mound of their former selves. Beautiful nonetheless, the sheer age of the range has caused them to erode down to the considerably lower elevation we see today, with the tallest peak, Mt. Mitchell, being just 6684’ above sea level.
Closer to Harmony Hill, another exciting geologic event was happening. The great compression between land masses that lifted the Appalachian Mountains was squeezing an arc of islands, once adrift in an ancient ocean, into the southeastern coast of modern North America, forming much of the piedmont of today. This compression not only cemented this chain of islands onto North America, but also caused a great deal of magma to form and bubble below the surface of the earth. The sheer pressure alone caused tremendous heat that liquified and even altered the rock formations here, causing metamorphic granite to become a dominate rock formation. Milky quartz can also be found all along the piedmont, as can other quartz, like smoky quartz.
This large area of magma cooled at various rates, causing some granite formations to be solid and stable, while others formed larger crystals and are less stable. This flaky granite is not sought after for its structural qualities, but it does break down into soil more readily, giving some of the soil at Harmony Hill a sparkle of quartz, feldspar and mica (the minerals that make up granite).
About 100 million years ago many of these granite formations began to show, as the overlying geologic formations and soil eroded away. The granite left exposed is harder than the softer sedimentary rock and even the less stable metamorphic rock surrounding it. This ability to withstand erosion over time has given Harmony Hill everything from small granite outcroppings, about the size of a football, to larger areas that resist moving water and give us seasonal waterfalls down rock faces. And we enjoy seeing each of them.
This walk down memory lane is not just for the sake of looking back. To know what plants are here, thereby knowing which insects, reptiles, birds, mammals, etc. are here, we must know our geology. Our geology gives us the creation of our soils, which dictate the rest of the residents, both plant and animal, we should see and expect. You see, by looking back at what WAS, such as the compression of islands into North America, we can get a better idea of what IS, such as the wild gingers, swamp azaleas and milkweed vines we have this summer. The was-ness of the is surrounds us and it tells us not just what is here now, but what was happening 300 million years ago.
By walking atop a granite rock at Harmony Hill and looking out over the hardwoods below, we are not only looking out at a different habitat, but we are also able to look back to a different time. A time when Earth looked remarkably different. A time that gave us ancient mountains and cooling magma below the surface. A time that gave us Harmony Hill. And we celebrate that every day.
An Attention Grabbing Dragonfly: Swamp Darners Catch More Than Prey
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There are themes that repeat in our visits and conversations together that reinforce the wonder and amazement found in the fields, forests, creeks, and ponds of Harmony Hill. Part of us sharing these recurring themes is the shear giddiness we find in the gifts of Mother Nature. But a bigger portion of it is that we want you to seek the same joy in the species, the connections, and the beauty found around you, wherever you might be. Your very own backyard, a neighborhood or state park, or any public greenspace can be a Harmony Hill where you uncover the mysteries of delicate spring wildflowers, melodic bird songs, the process of insect metamorphosis, or the intricacies of the web of life.
Just last week, we talked about a species of butterfly, taking to the air in beautiful flight. You’ve likely noticed we can talk for lengthy periods about birds. And if you stay with us as we continue these regular visits, we’re going to spotlight bats, the only mammals capable of sustained, powered flight. There is no doubt whatsoever that we are enthralled by all things with wings.
Today, we’d like to talk about another winged species; but not one with the immediately recognized loveliness of a butterfly or feathered features of a bird.
Any amount of time on the creekbanks or around the edges of the pond here in the spring and summer includes sharing the space with the darting, dashing, and diving of dragonflies. We are blessed with quite a variety of species, with colors and patterns that cover nearly every shade found in rainbows that arch across the sky following an afternoon summer shower. We’ll be talking about more species down the road, but one of the largest dragonflies we have at Harmony Hill is taking to the skies and their impressive size catches our attention. And we think they’ll fascinate you just as much as they do us.
Most of the dragonflies we see during our time outside are a couple of inches in length, with about the same size wingspan. But there is a much bigger species that is regularly found in open areas near the waters of Harmony Hill. There is a fairly common species that can reach around 4” in length, with a wingspan that can exceed that measurement and a body that is strong and heavy in appearance. The Swamp Darner (Epiaeschna heros) will grab your attention if it ever zooms near you, if for no other reason by its size!
Even its scientific name alludes to the how much bigger it is than most dragonflies. Epiaeschna means “in addition to” Aeschna, which is itself a genus containing many species of dragonflies. (As an aside, Aeschna means unattractive or ugly… and we totally disagree with any assessment that dragonflies are ugly!) The species name of “hero” is a word we are all familiar with, as it means a protector and demi-god. For the Swamp Darner, it is another nod to just how big individuals are, as any dragonfly this large might have the blood of some mythological deity.
Dragonflies, along with their close relatives, the Damselflies, are in the Order Odonata, meaning “jaw toothed”. True to that name, they used their strong mouths to devour prey at all stages of their lives. (And, no, they don’t really have teeth. But, if you’ve ever gotten an up-close look at their mouths, you know just how big they are in proportion to the rest of their faces, and you get an idea of just how those strong jaws can chew on the bodies of prey.)
Remember the stages of metamorphosis we learned in elementary school science? How some species of insects undergo various types of metamorphosis, with three types of metamorphosis being recognized by scientists. Depending upon the life stages throughout the process, an insect may be seen as undergoing Ametabolous (little to no metamorphosis), Hemimetabolous (gradual or simple metamorphosis), or Holometabolous (complete metamorphosis) types of metamorphosis. Most of this is revisiting things we all learned in elementary, middle, and high school, and even reviewed in the early days of Biology 101 in college. But if you’d like to take some time to focus more on metamorphosis, we can make that the topic of a future visit. No matter how many times we talk about it, it still amazes us that species change quite drastically from one stage of life to another!
Like other members of the Odonata order, Swamp Darners undergo Hemimetabolous, or gradual, metamorphosis. In that lifespan, an individual Swamp Darner will pass through an egg stage, a nymph (actually a Naiad) stage, and an adult stage. Most darners in our area will have more than one generation each year and Swamp Darners are no exception. Depending upon the weather, it may not be unusual to have up to three generations of Swamp Darners in a year at Harmony Hill.
In the spring, the naiad stage Swamp Darners in the waters of Harmony Hill emerge and molt into their adult stages. The time in which they do this varies on the calendar, but it coincides when springtime low temperatures regularly stay above about 50F degrees. The new adults take to the air with a sense of urgency, as they must reproduce within the limits of an adult stage that will only last between 4 - 8 weeks. With intense pressure from predators ranging from birds and fish to frogs and bats, their lives may very well be even shorter than that!
Once the adults reproduce, the females quickly lay eggs, with protective males actively watching over their territories. The second generation is underway, as the next egg and naiad stages might only last days or weeks. Unlike some species whose females lay eggs directly in water, Swamp Darner females lay their eggs near the water, in damp locations. Females have been observed laying eggs in the mud, in the cervices of fallen trees near the water or, in what may surprise many, inside the top layer of plant tissue or tree bark near water. You see, female Swamp Darners have ovipositors that are perfectly capable of slicing into and penetrating some plant material in order to lay their eggs. Eggs laid in this fashion usually hatch in the dampness of the environment in which they are laid. Some eggs may lay dormant until rehydrated by rains or rising water levels. Once hatched, the naiads will make their way into the water to complete this stage.
Once those naiads are ready to crawl out and molt into the second adult Swamp Darners of the year, the cycle of finding a mate and preparing for the third generation begins.
Let’s take a second and talk about this time as an adult. We just mentioned that adult male Swamp Darners, like many other species of dragonflies, establish, and defend a territory. While some dragonfly males patrol their territory, Swamp Darner males prefer to perch and watch over their area. An insect with a brain so small and simple in appearance that many would not recognize it as an organ capable of any complex neurological activity is, in fact, capable of far more than most would ever expect! Swamp Darners are capable of filtering out motion to focus on visual cues for potential prey and potential threats from predators and other members of their own species. Males are capable of setting up a defined territory, with appropriate habitat for attracting females for laying eggs and finding enough prey to capture. And both males and females are capable of navigating during a migration before setting the third generation into motion!
Now is the time when we pause and encourage you to think about what we just said! An insect with a head that is roughly the size of an adult human pinky fingernail can navigate, behave territorially, and can track targets that equate to us following a baseball traveling around 125 miles per hour! (Sometimes all at the same time!)
The third generation of naiads for the year will overwinter in the waters here, actively hunting for most of the days, weeks, and cooler months of winter.
At all periods of its nymph and adult stages, Swamp Darners are veracious hunters that will capture and devour whatever prey items it can chew and eat. As a naiad, that is usually found in the form of other aquatic invertebrates swimming and crawling in the waters around it. As an adult, that is any invertebrate it can catch on the wing and nibble away on. Their diet includes mosquitoes, flies, yellowjackets, horseflies, other dragonflies (including other Swamp Darners), and even the occasional spider, beetle, or ant.
Well now… we told you we are fascinated by all things with wings and this visit has certainly found us covering all sorts of topics as we discuss a dragonfly that always catches our attention! Large, beautiful, and, as it turns out, smarter than most people give them credit for, the Swamp Darner is more than a flying tank of an insect. It is a multigenerational resident each year at Harmony Hill, and it is an important part of our natural management of mosquitoes and other flying pests. They may not have the stylish, scaly wings of a butterfly and they may not sing the lovely songs of birds, but they are absolutely a valued and revered flier in the airspace in and around Harmony Hill.
Spotted Salamander: A Metric for Success
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There are species at Harmony Hill that remind us exactly why we are conservationists at heart and give us immediate reminders that what we are doing is making a difference. When we set out to protect this little corner of the world, we didn’t have a roadmap to follow, and we didn’t have a plan to get to where we are today. In fact, we are still fluid in our approach and are continually learning from Mother Nature. Her lessons will keep us forever her students and, even though we do have an overall goal, our management plan is not a rigid document that is unwavering. Instead, we walk towards to a grand plan for Harmony Hill knowing our efforts may change to meet the needs of the land as the climate and the surrounding area alters, sometimes more quickly than expected.
As with any goal, we look for definable metrics to show us if what we are doing is having the positive impact we are hoping for. In a business setting, this might be seen in specific performance outcomes. Fortunately, our metrics are not quite as cumbersome or as stuffy as those found in a corporate corner office. Oh, we have measurable goals we work towards; but we tend to think of them as dynamic and exciting when we see them come into focus.
Take this week’s spotlight species as a perfect example. At first glance, some may see it as just another species to add to the list of things at Harmony Hill; another line on a spreadsheet of plants and animals. To the casual observer, this may be just some slimy critter that serves as fish food or a weird animal they’ve heard lives underground. But to us, this is proof what we’re working towards is actually working and it is an example to anyone who would like to preserve and protect the environment that starting at home truly makes a difference.
Spotted Salamanders (Ambystoma maculatum) are not rare amphibians; but they are, in many ways, a special amphibian. You know we love to cover as many topics as we can during our visits, and this will be no exception! Buckle up and get ready to learn about a salamander that connects many aspects of nature, science, and good stewardship.
Having a range that covers much of the eastern United States, portions of southeastern Canada and the Great Lakes region, even pushing westwards through the gulf states and into parts of Texas and Oklahoma, Spotted Salamanders are a pretty common salamander. But allow us to ask you this, “How often have you seen them in the wild and when was the last time you saw one?” We know professional naturalists who have gone years between sightings and have even spoke to some avid outdoors people who have never seen one at all. That’s because they are a secretive species that lives most of its adult life under the cover of logs, leaf litter, and even several inches of topsoil. This fossorial lifestyle means it isn’t a species you can count on encountering on just any walk in the woods.
The only times we’ve encountered them outside of research or population surveys has been in early spring, when adults move to breeding vernal pools, wetlands, and sheltered ponds. In our neck-of-the-woods, that spring breeding season may begin long before spring is even found on the calendar. There are years that rainfalls might be sufficient and temperatures warm enough to cause adult Spotted Salamanders to come out into the open and head to breeding waters in December. Then again, we may have to wait until February or March to experience the nights of migration in which these gorgeous amphibians walk to begin breeding.
In the southern part of their range, of which we are on the very southeastern portion, we can often see three rounds of breeding by adult Spotted Salamanders over the course of better than two months. Heading north, those numbers reduce significantly, with populations in Maine, Canada, and the Great Lakes regions seeing one or, potentially, two rounds of breeding occurring in just a week or so.
And the waters where they breed? Well, they overwhelmingly prefer pools of water with little to no pressure from predators. Ephemeral pools of water offer places to lay eggs and allow those eggs to develop into larval Spotted Salamanders without the worries of fish devouring the growing amphibians.
They can and do utilize places that replicate this habitat, including artificial ponds, fishless wetlands, and even flooded ditches. While they have been documented breeding in ponds that have carnivorous fish, for obvious reasons, those are not the most productive or preferred waters. At Harmony Hill, we are fortunate to have bottomland wooded areas that see flooding, but are void of fish. We have been fortunate the last few years to have experienced flooding, and that has been good for numerous species, like the Spotted Salamander. We also have a pond that has very limited numbers of fish to consume amphibians that lay egg masses in its waters.
Eggs usually take between three and six weeks here to develop into larval Spotted Salamanders. As eggs, something unique and quite rare occurs in developing Spotted Salamanders. A relationship with a single-celled algae, Oophila ablystomatis, happens with each egg. Whether this relationship is truly mutualistic is not at all clear. Instead of absolutely mutualistic, this relationship seems to favor the developing salamander eggs.
Usually, the algae are inside the eggs when they are laid; passed down from the adult female. The immune systems of the developing eggs are even set to have no response to the outside genetic material. Sometimes, the algae will occupy an area just outside the egg, but within the egg mass and close enough to benefit the eggs. But what is the purpose of the algae and egg relationship?
Simply put, the eggs benefit from the oxygen and energy (in the form of simple sugar) produced by photosynthesis in the algae cells and the algae cells benefit from the liquid nitrogen waste from the developing salamander eggs. Now, we all know it isn’t always as simple as it looks on paper. There have been studies which show the algae suffers a little more than it may benefit from growing along with the Spotted Salamander eggs. There are many occasions in which photosynthesis isn’t efficient enough to produce enough energy and oxygen for both the egg and the algae. In these circumstances, especially as the egg grows and its size and color reduce the ability for the algae to photosynthesize, the algae must turn to fermentation to supply itself with the energy to continue the relationship. As it continues to take advantage of the salamander waste and utilize the nitrogen, this relationship never really enters the realm of parasitism.
The larval stage lasts between two and three months, and it is a completely aquatic larval stage. As larva, these salamanders will eat just about anything they can fit into their mouths, which are usually aquatic invertebrates. However, they will readily eat tadpoles, small fish, and even other salamander larvae. To our great joy, larval Spotted Salamanders have been documented consuming great numbers of mosquito larvae, adding to our holistic pest control approach!
When they lose their gills, leave the water, and become adults, their diet continues to include just about anything that will fit into their mouths. While this primarily consists of things like earthworms and insects, they have been documented taking advantage of small frogs and even other, smaller salamanders. Several years ago, we were fortunate enough to see an adult Spotted Salamander eating a Ring-necked Snake.
As adults, they are unmistakable in appearance, with that dark body and two rows of yellow spots running down the length of their bodies. They may be black, dark charcoal grey, or even a deep blue or green; but, they all look very much the same. Being up to 8”-9” in length, they are larger than most any other salamander. 6”-7” is the usual length we encounter here.
They are subject to be prey to a long, long list of predators; with skunks, raccoons, opossums, snakes, frogs, toads, fish, and birds, just to name a few! This is where being fossorial comes as a big advantage in avoiding predation.
In another instance of being a scientific marvel of nature, Spotted Salamanders are capable of regenerating entire limbs, should a would-be predator take a leg or tail. As if that isn’t impressive enough, there have been recorded instances of Spotted Salamanders regrowing things much more vital than a new tail or even an entire leg! Spotted Salamanders have been known to regrow internal organs and even portions of their heads and brains! Their regenerative capabilities are being studied to potentially help humans who have suffered injury or even some birth defects.
At each stage of their lives, Spotted Salamanders rely on waters that are free of contaminates and habitats that are protected from everything from increased runoff to harmful chemicals. Seeing Spotted Salamanders at Harmony Hill means we are offering a buffer from development, overharvesting of trees in adjacent forests, and use of pesticides, herbicides, fertilizers, and other chemicals in the area.
One of our goals is to be a refuge. We strive to provide clean and healthy habitats for plants and animals, as well as for us. Spotted Salamanders are one of those measurable metrics showing our efforts are working and our goals are being attained. Clean water, quality habitats, space for native plants and animals to flourish; all things we see in Spotted Salamanders at Harmony Hill.
Just as important as this is for us, it is also something we can show neighbors and anyone interested in protecting their own piece of nature. And it is something we can show you, our fellow naturalists. You don’t have to have a massive piece of property or deep pockets. Every acre counts and even small steps matter in the journey towards helping Mother Nature. That’s what we see when we observe Spotted Salamanders. Not simply a lovely dark salamander with yellow spots, but proof that we can make a difference; that we can be good stewards and take care of those without the voice to advocate for themselves.
Owls of Harmony Hill
On February 5th, Sunshine and Lisa sent me a photo (see first photo) of some feathers they found on the ground, asking me to talk about where they might have come from and how they might have ended up on the ground. After taking a look, I was able to both see WHO they once belonged to and (most likely) HOW they found their way onto the forest floor.
The feathers are flight feathers that belonged to a Barred Owl (Strix varia) that probably found itself on the dinner menu for Great Horned Owl (Bubo virginianus). First, how do we know these feathers belong to a Barred Owl? Let’s take a look at the feathers. Immediately, we see that they are barred. (Sometimes, we naturalists apply common names that make sense!) The dark gray/brown bars are interrupted by white bars, giving the bird its common name.
As for the scientific name, (Strix varia)... Strix is pulled directly from the Strix creature of Greek mythology, which relates to Polyphonte, who was turned into an owl by Hermes, as punishment for her feral twins engaging in cannibalism. The Strix would cry through the night, unable to eat. It is also one of the roots of the superstition of owls being a foreboding and unlucky omen. Most cultures revered owls and even saw them as good luck; but, this was part of the turning of the tide, making owls to be bringers of ill-fortune.
The species name, varia, means exactly what you think it does: diverse and various. This comes from the barred plumage of the owl.
Barred Owls are residents of low, wet areas. Beaver Creek, with its bottomland hardwoods and riparian habitats, makes a perfect place for them to live and breed. They have a varied diet, packed full of species found in and around rivers, streams, lakes, ponds, creeks and swamps. I’ve seen them hunting for snakes, lizards, crayfish, smaller birds, rodents, squirrels and even earthworms. (Seriously… I came upon a Barred Owl that had discovered quite the gathering of earthworms, gobbling them up as quickly as it could scratch them out of the dark soil.)
Now, how do I know this unfortunate bird fell victim to a Great Horned Owl? Well, not many things take on Barred Owls. But, Great Horned Owls definitely can and will! In fact, Great Horned Owls will take on just about anything. It isn’t uncommon for Great Horned Owls to actively hunt skunks, racoons, porcupines and young coyotes. Their strength (they posses 7x the gripping strength of an adult human) and their tenacity have earned them the nickname “Flying Tiger”.
There is a Latin variant, Bubo, which is likely an onomatopoeia of the low hooting of owls, that references large owls. The species name of virginianus gives us the name of the colony where Great Horned Owls were first described.
Great Horned Owls begin pair bonding in South Carolina in November and begin nesting in December. Incubation of the eggs goes through January and hatching is usually late January and early February. During incubation and, especially after hatching, hunting activity increases. The owlets will develop and grow until fledging in early May. During that time, the adults are taking anything they can to nourish and quiet the begging of the owlets. And, as you have already guessed, means Barred Owls are on the menu!
I’ve also included links to information on Barred Owls, with photos and videos for you to see them and hear their calls. They have a diagnostic “Who Cooks for You? Who Cooks for You All?” call, as well as a call that sounds like monkeys in a jungle. You will also find a couple of photos I’ve taken of Great Horned Owls, one perched on a limb and one of a female at a nest, with three owlets. I’ve also attached a short video I took a couple years ago with the usual “Hoot, Hoot” of the Great Horned Owl and the less common barking call that is heard during pair bonding.
Wildlife Signs Woven on the Winter Landscape
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When it comes to seasons, winter often gets a bad rap. Summer seems to get all the attention, with its longer, lazy, and warmer days. Autumn is a time to watch the beautiful colors of the leaves as they change, as well as enjoy the bounty of the harvest. Spring is a time of colorful wildflowers and much of its allure can be seen as a rebuke of winter. The images of rebirth and new growth are directly attributed to surviving the starkness and coldness of winter.
But we find peace in the quiet and solitude of the naked forests of winter. The crisp mornings, adorned with frost on the landscape, excite the senses in ways that the other seasons just cannot. The shortened days bring a sense of gratitude for what can be accomplished in the abbreviated daylight of winter. And, as we have spoken of in previous posts, there is an ability to see and hear more without the distractions of butterflies flitting, leaves blowing in the breeze, insects calling, and watching our step in places we know copperheads, cottonmouths and rattlesnakes are apt to be napping the day away.
While it is true that animal activity is much less during the colder months of the year, signs of the inhabitants of the woodlands of Harmony Hill abound if you slow down and pay attention. Sure, there are tracks that show the well-traveled trails of White-tailed Deer, Coyote, Wild Turkey, and even Beaver. A look at the snags we encounter will most certainly show us that Downy Woodpeckers, Red-bellied Woodpeckers, Northern Flickers, Red-headed Woodpeckers, and Pileated Woodpeckers are still foraging and excavating cavities. There are other signs that we see on our walks, some that others may walk past and not notice. Today, let’s look at clear signs we saw while checking out an area of the forest.
The morning sun was bright and clear as it tickled the edge of an opening, the shadows of the pine needles danced on the broom sedge and blackberry briers. The color brown was well represented, as all shades from chocolate to sandstone were seen in a short stride. In those gradients of khaki and pecan, a nearly perfectly round shape caught our eye. Exquisitely camouflaged in the vegetation was a sign of a different kind. Well-hidden from our view, as well as the attention of potential predators, was evidence of a species whose adults are absent from the cold winter days at Harmony Hill. But the next generation sits, waiting for the right conditions to come along. This round form, roughly the size of a ping pong ball, is the egg case of the Black-and-Gold Garden Spider (Argiope aurantia). And just as a footprint in the soils along the creek show us deer have recently been there, this egg case was a sure sign of this species of beautiful spider.
Most of us have encountered these spiders during our time outside. They are a common species and, even if you don’t see the spider in the summer or fall, their webs are a thing of natural wonder and splendor. Belonging to a group of spiders known as Orb Weavers, they weave impressively large wheel-like webs. (More on orb webs and orb weavers in a future installment!)
Sitting in the middle of their large, round webs in broad daylight, these big spiders sit with their legs paired up. Two legs sit high and to the left, two legs sit high and to the right. Two legs sit low and off to the left, two legs sit low and off to the right. And the center of the web sports a zigzag pattern that looks as though the spider doodled a zipper where it perches. Some people even call spiders in this genus “Writing Spiders” or “Etching Spiders”, because it looks like they practice writing or etching in their webs. There is even an old superstition that, should you ever see your name written in the spider’s web, your number would soon be up!
But they aren’t really writing or doodling in their webs. What is all that zigzagging about, then? That bit of structural architecture in the web is called “stabilimentum” and there are several thoughts as to what it does.
It may serve as a visual cue for large animals, like birds and mammals, to see the web and avoid it. By deterring birds from flying through their webs or keeping deer from walking in the middle, the spiders are able to keep that insect catching web intact and not have to rebuild immediately after completion.
It may serve as a visual cue to attract insects, drawing the very prey they seek to catch even closer to the sticky threads.
It may serve as a way to increase structural integrity and strength, while also increasing vibrations the spiders feel when an insect becomes trapped.
As you know, when it comes to nature, there is seldom just one reason. When something serves multiple positive purposes, nature rewards it and that attribute is then passed along. It is likely stabilimentum does all this and perhaps more!
Either way, when one of the Argiope spider webs is encountered, it is difficult to mistake. But that web is long gone from Harmony Hill by this time in the winter. How do we know who left this egg sac?
Female Black-and-Gold Garden Spiders, also called Black-and-Yellow Garden Spiders, spin these spheres of silk as a place to hold their eggs and protect them after they die. Other Argiope spider egg cases may be large and impressive, but at Harmony Hill, only the Black-and-Gold Garden Spider egg sac is this shape and size.
Want to see another species we have here as a comparison? Well, thanks to Mother Nature, we can do just that!
Stuck in the middle of some twigs and vegetative debris, we saw a weirdly shaped object hanging there. Looking every bit like the nucleus of a cell that exploded or an amoeba on steroids, the egg case of the Black-and-Silver Garden Spider (Argiope argentata) is completely different from its golden cousin.
Just as common here, the Black-and-Silver Garden Spider can be found in similar habitat as the Black-and-Gold Garden Spider. They even spin extremely similar webs, stabilimentum and all! But when it comes time to lay eggs and spin a protective case, instinct kicks in and they spin an amorphous take on a polygon instead of a perfect golf ball.
Adult spiders of both species look similar, but the silver and gold accents on each area provide a definitive way to identify them in the field. Their species names even help with the identifications, as aurantia means covered (or inlayed) with gold and argentata means silvery!
The genus name of Argiope is a little more complicated, with its roots in Greek mythology. Argiope was a nymph and the mother of poet and singer, Thamyris. Her name translates to “Silvery Face” or “With Bright Silver Face” and that silver face can be seen on spiders of this genus, if you use a lot of imagination.
So, our Black-and-Gold Garden Spider’s scientific name can be translated as “with a silver face and covered with gold”, while our Black-and-Silver Garden Spider’s scientific name can be translated as “with a silver face silver”.
Finally, there are many beliefs and even superstitions related to these spiders. Some old southerners believe that, should you ever find your name written in the web of one of these spiders, your number will soon be up.
Going back much farther on the land now known as Harmony Hill, there is a Native American belief in the female deity Old Woman Who Never Dies. She was often depicted in iconography as an Argiope Spider, appearing on gorgets and drawings with the diagnostic paired leg posture. Of the many things Old Woman Who Never Dies was responsible for, she wove the Milky Way across the sky, and it served as a bridge for souls to cross over from this world to the above world. In fact, when the Milky Way dips to its lowest point in the sky each year, that is when all the souls who passed the previous year could walk to the edge of this world and cross the bridge that Old Woman Who Never Dies spun to the above world. (This is, of course, a very simplified version of that belief.)
Indeed, not only were these lovely spiders not feared by people here long before us, they were part of a revered and critical transition for souls. Consider that next time you see one of these massive orb weaving spiders!
Possumhaw: A Little Color In Winter’s Drabness
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As winter reaches its climax, just before it begins giving way to hints of spring on the landscape, colors in the forest become muted. Even as the bluebird sky sits overhead and the sun sends crystal clear beams of light to warm our faces, it seems the lack of bright colors often magnifies the dominance of browns and greys in the woods of Harmony Hill. After just a short walk along the creek and bottomland portions of this gorgeous place, it doesn’t take much effort to begin to see tiny glimmers of bright red against the palettes of desaturated colors.
We are always encouraging our readers to look beyond what many see as ordinary or drab to see the beauty right at our fingertips. Part of that is in seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary and the brilliant hidden in drabness. Join us as we spotlight a common species that has eye catching berries that lift our spirits on even the most overcast days of winter.
There are some pretty unforgettable common names for plants and animals out there, names that sound so odd you won’t forget them and may just make you laugh when you say them. One such name is Possumhaw (Ilex decidua) and is the most commonly used common name for our species during this visit.
The scientific name Ilex decidua also alludes to one of the more fitting common names, Deciduous Holly, as it simply translates to a holly that is deciduous! Ever wonder where the term “deciduous” comes from? Well, the etymology for the word comes from “de”, Latin for “down”, and “cadere”, Latin for “to fall”. So, deciduous in plants refers to having leaves that fall down!
Whatever you call it, it is easy to identify this time of year and, though it is a common species, is worthy of stopping along the way to admire.
The defining characteristic of this plant in late winter are the red berries that still cling to its branches. Even for someone with only a limited exposure to plants or the outdoors, the red berries that are common amongst members of the Holly family (Aquifoliaceae) are obvious. And it is those very berries we look to when identifying Possumhaw today. Sure, we can talk about its shrubby size, usually growing to about 20’-25’ in height. Or we could point out its incredibly thin grey bark, often with lighter splotches highlighting portions of the trunk and branches. Or we could mention the warty stems holding the berries. But we know the thing that will catch your attention will be the red berries, growing in bunches or singly.
Beginning as small, nondescript white flowers in mid-spring, the berries begin to develop around September and October. Though they may turn orange or yellow, they usually become that signature holly red and are noticeable by November. Certainly, by December, when most of the leaves of the forest trees have fallen, they are conspicuous.
As much as we’d like to think that maybe Possumhaw put those berries there just to brighten our day, we know that isn’t the case. Those berries are fruit that hold the seeds for the next generation and are not there for us. In fact, like the berries of other Aquifoliaceae, they are not good for human consumption. The berries are toxic and can cause vomiting and sickness in small doses and much worse in larger doses.
Humans do use the berries for something else, however. In a continuation of its holly lineage, Possumhaw has been used in winter and holiday decorations. Taking advantage of the red berries, people have used twigs and branches loaded with Possumhaw berries to add to wreaths, arrangements, and ornaments for many generations.
Even animals who eat the berries only eat them in small amounts and usually wait until later in the season to begin consuming them. It appears Possumhaw berries are not a preferred food of the mammals and birds that eat them. White-tailed Deer, Raccoons, Northern Mockingbirds, American Robins, Cedar Waxwings and even Northern Bobwhite Quail take advantage of them as a food source.
And that name, Possumhaw? Well, it comes from the fact that Opossums do, in fact, eat the berries that look a little like hawthorn berries. That gives us the etymology, by joining Possum from Opossum and haw from hawthorn, we get the slightly hilarious name of Possumhaw!
Some older southerners have been known to call this plant Winterberry. And where its range gets into mountainous regions of the Appalachian and Ozark ranges, locals often call it Bearberry, in reference to Black Bears consuming the berries.
Next time you’re walking in the winter woods where there is at least partial shade and the soil moisture is mostly constant, keep your eye out for these berries and smile as you say, “Possumhaw!” It can tolerate a range of soil types, from sandy to clay. But it needs pretty consistent soil moisture and some shade. Where there is partial shade from a hardwood and pine overstory, there appears to be more prolific berry production.
Finally, while it is possible to get perfect flowers on some plants in which both male and female reproductive parts are present, it is far more common that there are male plants and female plants. Where you see berries, that is a female plant that has a nearby male plant to pollinate it.
There you have it… our ordinary plant that delivers something more than ordinary for our eyes in the midst of the drabness of late winter. Possumhaw, or Deciduous Holly, with a little pop of color in the doldrums just before spring!
Dogbane Tiger Moth: A Story in Shrewd Survival
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During so many of our visits, we make a point to talk about the beauty of nature and of just how striking so many species are to the eye. There is so much happiness found in looking out over the rolling hills of the piedmont and seeing the leaves change each fall. There are birds with feathers that shine in the sunlight that make you gasp, like when a Prothonotary Warbler, the jewel of the swamp, perches in front of you. And there are flowers so lovely, like those found on Tulip Poplar, that make you smile involuntarily. Nature is beautiful! And we are her apostles, proclaiming the stunning splendor right in your backyard.
But there is another side to the gorgeous grandeur found around each corner of the woods and the fields. There is a constant struggle of survival going on each and every second of each and every day. A battle of life and death, quite literally, is always happening; even as we sit in the quiet and the elegance of what we view as a peaceful moment in nature. Though we may stand in the dappled sunlight of a relaxing morning, predators seek to capture prey, plants conduct chemical warfare to prevent competition, and other species find ways to outsmart their would-be attackers. Whether by hiding, the use of camouflage, or mimicry, some species have found the best ways to lower the risks of being eaten are by fooling a potential predator. Let’s look at a species you may not be familiar with that uses a couple of methods to outwit hunters, one method that may just surprise you!
Sitting on the ground, in the wide open of a field, a cottony white moth with an ochre wash on its head and leading edge of its wings, is perched on the fallen needles of a Loblolly Pine. Sticking out like a sore thumb, even a seasoned naturalist would wonder if it had a death wish. Sure, the small amount of yellow-brown coloration on its forewing provides some means to blend into the scattered pine straw. But with so much of this moth being white, it can be easily spotted. (As seen in the accompanying photos with this Walk in the Wood.)
The Delicate Cycnia Moth (Cycnia tenera), or Dogbane Tiger Moth, doesn’t particularly worry about blending in or shying away into a hiding spot. Evolution has given this species two adaptations to use in its fight against predation.
Without the effective camouflage we’ve seen exhibited by some of the other species we’ve focused on, it would seem the Dogbane Tiger Moth would be the proverbial “sitting duck” as it loafs out in plain sight. And this moth doesn’t mimic another lepidopteran in order to borrow safety by being a lookalike.
What does it know that we don’t?
What tricks does the Dogbane Tiger Moth have up its sleeve to be able to lower its concern over being eaten?
For the answers to these questions, let’s begin by looking at the diet of the larval form of Cycnia tenera. Now, as naturalists, we all know that caterpillars of butterflies and moths that are capable of ingesting poisonous plants can build levels of the plants toxins in their systems, then use those toxins to become anything from unpalatable to downright deadly if eaten. We can look to the very familiar Monarch Butterfly (Danaus plexippus) and the way it utilizes the toxins found in milkweed plants (Asclepius sp.) to be both distasteful and mildly poisonous to predators. As it turns out, the Dogbane Tiger Moth uses the same approach and, on occasion, the same host plants as Monarch Butterflies.
The primary host plant for Cycnia tenera caterpillars at Harmony Hill is Dogbane (Apocynum cannabinum), a highly poisonous plant with a reputation for being so toxic, the common and scientific names tell of its ability to keep dogs away. The genus name of Apocynum can be roughly translated to “away with dogs”. In fact, civilizations have used the plant to poison animals, including wild dogs, in some way for centuries. And the species name of cannabinum is a reference to the plant being used, much like hemp plants, to make fibers and threads by Native American tribes, like hemp plants. Indeed, one of the common names for Dogbane is Hemp Dogbane; another nod to the way Dogbane can be used like hemp to make fibers.
The toxins in Dogbane effect the heart and are in the family of chemicals known as cardiac glycosides. However, the larvae of Dogbane Tiger Moth are unaffected and have evolved the ability to build up the levels of the glycosides as they eat the plant and grow. Those toxins carry over to the adult form of the moth we see in this Walk in the Wood visit, causing any predator that makes the poor decision to eat it to quickly spit it out or face an unpleasant reaction.
As a side note, it is not out of the question for Dogbane Tiger Moth caterpillars to feed on milkweed plants, like Monarch Butterflies. It was even once believed that Monarch caterpillars fed on Dogbane plants.
Being mostly active at night, the primary predator of Cycnia tenera are various bat species. Bats have learned to not eat Dogbane Tiger Moths through coevolution, with previous generations of bats finding out the hard way to not make a meal of the moth. But that is not where the story ends; nor is it the only way this moth has figured out to outsmart predators.
Bats hunt by echolocation. They use a series of vocalizations to hunt, communicate, and understand their surroundings. There are species of bats with a surprisingly large repertoire of vocalizations for a variety of situations besides just seeking out food on the wing. Well, Dogbane Tiger Moths have evolved to emit ultrasonic clicks that may serve as both a warning to bats to not even think about grabbing them out of the air and to also confuse their hunting vocalizations.
You read that right! This little white and yellow moth uses a type of radar jamming in the battle of survival against the only mammals capable of true flight! While we know the moth uses these clicks to deter bats from capturing them, we don’t exactly know if it is as a warning to not eat the poisonous bat or to disrupt the signal interpretation abilities of bats. It could very well be both! If you will recall, one of the things we have mentioned repeatedly is that things in nature rarely ever have one purpose. Either way, it sends out ultrasonic clicks to effectively remove themselves from the dinner menu of bats. And it does this when it detects bats approaching that have switched to clicks to hone in on a target! That, fellow naturalists, is incredibly fascinating!
A simple observation of a small moth has led us down the path of discovering how some species not only survive, but actively deter predation. A small moth that not only uses poison to prevent itself from being eaten, but also works to beat bats at their own echolocation game! And another example of just how special moments in nature can be without leaving your own yard! Oh, there are some astoundingly beautiful faraway places; but there are mind-blowing stories and amazing discoveries to be found mere steps away from your front doors. Now, get out there and find them!
It’s Not Easy Being Gray
Though autumn is here, let’s look back at just a few weeks ago, when the hot days of summer had taken hold and even the woods and fields which were normally filled with sound and motion got quiet and still.
The occasional bird song or cicada call echoed through the air and a grasshopper or butterfly might venture out on the wing to take short flights. Even our amphibian friends around the pond had grown more hushed in the heat of those sweltering days. Another frog, away from the pond, was heard and seen. Whether drowned out by its more vocal and conspicuous kin, this frog is easily overlooked. But not today and not as we take walk in the wood at Harmony Hill.
Away from the waters of the pond, we encounter treefrogs. The one species of treefrog (Family Hylidae) we have documented so far at Harmony Hill is the Cope’s Gray Treefrog (Hyla chrysoscelis). We’ve been hearing their trill vocalizations throughout the summer, echoing from upland pine forests to bottomland hardwoods. Quite often, we hear them call from their perches in trees during the lazy warm days, but they tend to do most of their singing once the day has begun to give way to evening time. To many, the call of this frog is often written off as background noise. And their cryptic colors and patterns mean they aren’t the most eye-catching frog at Harmony Hill. However, if you’ve joined us for even one walk in the wood, you know we don’t simply write anything off as background noise and we find beauty and fascination in all flora and fauna on this beautiful landscape.
Why don’t we begin by looking at the namesake of the Cope’s Gray Treefrog? Edward Drinker Cope (1840-1897) was an American naturalist from Philadelphia. Known for his knowledge and passion for everything from frogs and fish to fossils and physiology, Cope was mostly self-taught and looked for nearly any excuse to get outside to study nature. Driven by curiosity, Cope was keenly interested in paleontology. His demeaner, determination, and approaches were known to cause problems in his personality and character, even blinding him to the humanity and ability of others. It is for him that this mostly gray-colored and mottled tree frog is named.
The genus name of Hyla means “wood”, “forest” or “timber”. This is a clear reference to the members of this genus being found in trees. Chryso is the Greek word meaning “gold”, while kelis is the Greek word for “stain” or “a spot”. Combining those two words gives us the species name of chrysoscelis, referencing both the metallic sparkling found in the granular skin of the frog and the bright gold-orange coloration hidden on the inner thigh of the frog.
Cope’s Gray Treefrogs depend on their cryptic colors and pattern to provide extremely effective camouflage to hide from predators. Whether found perched on pine, holly, oak, or hickory trees, they blend in and look like little more than a bump or knot on the trunk or limb. If discovered; however, they will leap away at the last minute, displaying the flash of orange on the inside of their groin. This flash of color serves as a distraction to potential predators, causing a cautious pause and allowing the frog to escape.
Like other frogs, being an amphibian, Cope’s Gray Treefrogs are dependent upon water for reproduction. Males will find a pond or ephemeral wet area, one without fish whenever possible, and begin calling from somewhere high up in a tree. At Harmony Hill, there happens to be just such areas found in various habitats around the property. The two separate Cope’s shown in the photographs this week were found not too far from wet areas that have been drying in the recent weeks.
When the females arrive to investigate the singing, the males maneuver down the tree to the ground, where they mate. The females later lay their eggs in “packets” of between 30-40 eggs and attach them to vegetation in the pond or wet area. Hatch times and tadpole development times are entirely dependent upon water temperatures. Under most summertime conditions at Harmony Hill, the time from the egg hatch to tadpoles and, finally, metamorphosis to Cope’s Gray Treefrogs emerging from the water usually spans a timeframe of 45-60 days.
Cope’s Gray Treefrogs are physically identical to Gray Treefrogs (Hyla versacolor) and should never be identified by appearance alone. For many years, they were thought to be the same species, perhaps simply being two subspecies of the same species. Genetic research and DNA sampling proved them to be separate from one another.
But, if they look just alike and we don’t have DNA laboratories at Harmony Hill, how are we to distinguish them as Cope’s Gray Treefrogs or Gray Treefrogs? We have a wonderful tip for you!
The calls of the two frogs are quite different and provide a definitive way to identify the two species. The calls are also different enough that females of the two species do not tend to mate with a male of the other species. And if you’re wondering what that difference is, well the trill of the Cope’s is faster than the trill of the Eastern. If you ever have the chance to hear both species, the difference is pronounced enough that you can confidently tell them apart once you learn them. And, since you’re all our fellow naturalists, we believe in your identification abilities!
The genetic research we mentioned that led to the separation of the two species also led to the discovery that Cope’s Gray Treefrogs have diploid chromosomes, or two sets of chromosomes in each cell nuclei. Their relative, the Gray Treefrog, has tetraploid chromosomes, or four sets of chromosomes in each cell nuclei.
Before we part company this week, there’s one last cool fact about Cope’s Gray Treefrogs. They are capable of secreting a slightly toxic substance from their skin. While this toxin will not harm you directly if you handle a Cope’s Gray Treefrog, please be absolutely certain to wash your hands thoroughly after you handle this, or any, frog species. As a matter of fact, let’s make that a rule after handling any wild animal!
This toxic skin secretion from Cope’s Gray Treefrogs is known to irritate eyes, mouths, mucus lining of noses, and open wounds of mammals. Humans can be especially sensitive to the secretion and it is an effective deterrent to predation. To avoid forgetfully wiping your eyes or nose and having a potential reaction, be very careful and mindful while handling the frog and please wash your hands well immediately when done.
My, What A Big Leaf You Have!
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Some of the finest moments we’ve had in nature have been when we’ve forgotten our age and simply walked in the woods just like we did as a child.; eyes wide open, ears perked for every sound, taking in the scents around us with each breath, a smile plastered across our face, and a skip in our step. It was our fascination as a child that firmly planted our feet in the outdoors as an adult naturalist, and it was our wondering and wandering then that still puts us face-to-face with the magic of Mother Nature now. George Bernard Shaw famously said, “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.” And we think that same sentiment extends to the mysteries found in our own backyards. We’ve explored some pretty amazing species and relationships in the natural world; but today we want to tell you the story of a species that grabbed our attention for one of the simplest reasons.
In the autumn, we see them change from green to brilliant shades of red, yellow, purple, orange, and brown. Later in the season, they rustle and shake in the wind, eventually floating down to the ground. In the winter, they crunch and shuffle beneath our every step in the woods. In the spring, we rejoice as they begin to grow anew and paint the forest in the newness of life. All summer long, we seek refuge from the brutal heat of the sun in the softness of their shade. Some are long and slender, as on the many pines on the hilltops at Harmony Hill. Some are small and heart-shaped, as on the Redbud trees. Some are simple and look exactly like they were drawn and colored by a child, as on the spindly dogwood tree. Then, there are those like the ones that caught our eye and had us giggling as we marveled at the way Mother Nature is effortlessly able to tie complexity and beauty together.
We are, of course, talking about leaves. Is there a more basic thing to consider when walking through the forest? This time of year, they’re nearly as ubiquitous as grains of sand along the creekbank; filling the forest and flowing in the late spring breeze. Like so many common things, it is easy to take them for granted because of their sheer numbers. But going back to that childlike amazement in nature, it is healthy and wonderful to sluff the jaded grownup and return to what made us become naturalists to begin with. A leaf can be unbelievably uncanny! Don’t agree? Come for a walk in the woods with us to visit a tree and a leaf so extraordinary, it deserves its very own spotlight!
Just up a short hill, mixed into Loblolly Pines and a few, scattered hardwood saplings, we saw a tree swaying gently in the breeze. Seeing the small trunk and the conspicuous leaves lit up by the glow of the rising sun, we stopped in our tracks and made a beeline up the hill. There before us was a small tree that we’ve seen growing in all sorts of habitats across the state.
Devil’s Walkingstick (Aralia spinosa) is a tree primarily found in the southeastern United States, though its range goes well into the mid-Atlantic states and can be readily found in east Texas. A look at that range shows it covering the area most would recognize as the “deep south”, Kentucky down to Mississippi and across to the Carolinas, reaching up to Virginia and down to Florida.
But what sort of common name is Devil’s Walkingstick? Even a quick glance at the stem of this tree will let you know where that name, as well as the species name of spinosa, comes from! The spines irregularly lining the trunk outline the places where leaves were, or the leaf scars, in previous years. Colloquially, we heard that only the devil could use that tree as a walking stick. In some parts of its range, it’s called “Prickly Ash” or “Hercules Club”, though it isn’t an ash at all. It’s actually in the Ginseng, or Araliaceae, Family! And there is another tree that has larger, thicker spines dotting its trunk that is also called “Hercules Club”.
The spines of Aralia spinosa extend onto the stems of the remarkable leaves growing this spring. Remember, it is the topic of leaves that got us here!
A quick recap of our dendrology class will help a great deal right now. You see, leaves can be simple or compound. Simple leaves are just that, one leaf growing from a leaf bud, making a single, simple leaf structure. Compound leaves are a cluster or structure of leaflets attached to a stem growing from a leaf bud on a tree.
Simple leaves are found on trees as common as magnolias, sycamores, cherries, dogwoods, and oaks. Compound leaves can be easily seen on hickories, ashes, pecans, and even the introduced mimosa tree. The concept of what a leaf is on a tree can be stated as straightforward as the structure that grows from the leaf bud.
Want to know if you’re dealing with a single, simple leaf or a compound leaf made up of multiple leaflets? Just trace your way back to where it connects to where the leaf sprouted from the tree! It is just that easy!
Now, let’s take it one more step with Devil’s Walkingstick. The leaf found on this tree is a bipinnately compound, meaning it is made up of multiple branchings of leaflets. These leaves can grow to be an enormous size! We have routinely seen them measuring 3’-4’ in length and 2’-3’ wide. Lengths of 5’ and widths of 4’ are not at all uncommon! And as for trying to count the leaflets, we have found leaves made up of 50-70 leaflets! For comparison, pecan trees have leaves usually made up of 11-13 leaflets.
We know we often ask you to take a moment to think about what we’ve just said, but indulge us as we ask you to do it again. These leaves can be made up of over 70 leaflets and be 5’ long and 4’ wide! Now tell us the child in you isn’t amazed by that and that seeing this species doesn’t get you excited about walking in the woods!
Most of the time, Devil’s Walkingstick grows to about 20’-25’ tall, but can exceed 35’ in height in good conditions. And because of those incredible leaves, it can attain a shrubby shade area of 10’-15’ when growing in a good spot. As for soil types that are good for this tree, we have found it growing in some pretty dry, sandy areas in the sandhills and coastal plain areas, as well as moist soils with some clay content in the piedmont and mountain areas. As long as there is at least some partial shade and soils that dry out, we expect to find Devil’s Walkingstick in a variety of places.
Later in the summer, a large cluster of small white flowers will bloom atop this tree. Attracting native bees, Devil’s Walkingstick can be an important source of pollen and nectar for a number of pollinator species in decline. Once pollinated, those flowers will develop into dark berries that are devoured by birds like thrushes and mimics, as well as mammals such as raccoons and opossums.
As autumn moves in, the massive leaves turn red, purple, and gold before dropping to the ground and leaving the trunk a naked spine-covered stem.
But for the spring and summer months, we have the good fortune to see the enormous leaves of this shrubby tree. And we have an immediate reminder that something as everyday as a leaf can be anything but normal; that something often overlooked can be the entire reason you should stare in wonder. And we have an instant connection to the child who ran through the woods, investigating everything they came upon. The early naturalist in us who found magic in everything we saw, heard, touched, and smelled is still there and, even though we have many more years behind us now, we remain enraptured by what others may walk past.
It isn’t just a leaf! It is a bipinnately compound, and occasionally, a tripinnately compound structure that demonstrates Mother Nature can take the normal and make it exquisitely complex. And it is Mother Nature tapping us on the shoulder, telling us to take nothing for granted and to always maintain that curiosity and astonishment which keeps us her eternal students. With that in mind, when was the last time you walked in nature and sought joy in the familiar? When was the last time you were enchanted by a leaf? You’re never too old to rekindle the magic.
Summertime Blues
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This time of year, our attention is pulled upwards toward the sky. The crystal blue skies of spring are a gorgeous backdrop for the bright greens of the new leaves on the trees. Birds flit around above us and sing from treetops, causing us to walk with our eyes scanning high. Trees like Tulip Poplar have bright and beautiful flowers blooming, as Crossvine and Trumpet Creeper add their blossoms to the upper levels of the forest. With all this activity above our heads, it can be easy to miss things at our feet. But this spring morning we are grateful we were scanning the ground as we made our way out of the tree line.
As we stepped into an opening, we happened to notice a small butterfly shape sitting atop a dew-covered blade of grass. The sun was shining in our face, and we could only see the backlit silhouette of what was obviously a diminutive butterfly. Careful not to frighten it, we slowly approached for a better look. Taking careful, soft steps, we circled around to put the sun at our backs and get a little closer. As soon as we saw the first hints of color, we knew which species we were looking at and it brought a smile to our face.
As with birds, flowers, trees, and even snakes, we look for a couple of quick and easy to spot field markers to help us identify butterflies. Some are simple, such as Eastern Tiger Swallowtail. Some are a little more difficult, such as the black swallowtails with purple and blue. It may take a few seconds of looking to know for sure, as opposed to knowing instantaneously. We’d like to share how we identified this butterfly, to help you when you’re in the field and encounter it. And we’d also like to share a little about where this lovely little butterfly fits into the overall Harmony Hill story.
One of the smaller butterflies at Harmony Hill, the Eastern Tailed-Blue (Cupido comyntas) looks a lot like their common name implies. When we say, “small”, we mean small; coming in at right around one inch in wingspan! They are blue above and have tiny tails that extend from both hindwings. That tail is one of the immediate identifying features of this species and one that we encourage you to focus on. There are a couple of other butterflies that look similar to the Eastern Tailed-Blue and, if you’re not careful, it wouldn’t be difficult to mistaken or misidentify them.
True to their names, male Eastern Tailed-Blues are blue when viewed overhead. However, females are predominately brown and can be fairly nondescript in appearance. Often informally lumped into “blues” with a few other species of small blue butterflies that look somewhat alike, this species is the only one in our area with tails. Formally, they are lumped into the Lycaenidae family and the Polyommatinae subfamily. But isn’t it easier for us to just call them “blues”? Though they may look like Spring Azures, Summer Azures, and Silvery Blues, the tails are one of two easy ways to separate Eastern Tailed-Blues from the other “blues”.
Two orange spots on the hindwings, often appearing as orange chevrons on the underside of the hindwings, are the other field marker to look for. As with the tails, none of the other “blues” possess such a physical trait. Their size, shape, behavior, and even overall color might give us pause, but focusing on the presence or absence of miniature tails and orange chevrons allows us to determine the identity of this species.
Also, be sure to look at the posture butterflies take when at rest. Some will sit with wings wide open, while others will rest with their wings clasped shut over their bodies. Eastern Tailed-Blues very often sit with their wings partially open, making identification much simpler. On this morning, the butterfly we observed rested with its wings closed; perhaps due to it being early in the day and the sun still very low on the horizon.
To warm themselves, some butterflies will open their wings in the rays of the sun. Gathering as much solar warmth and energy as they can, the increase in surface area is an efficient way to also increase their body temperatures.
How high or low they fly may also be a good clue to assist in identification. When it comes to Eastern Tailed-Blues, they are low fliers. Seldom getting above five to six feet, this species overwhelmingly prefers to cruise just a couple feet above the ground and the vegetation.
As we’ve discussed in our previous conversations about butterflies and moths, in order to have adult butterflies, you most often need to have larvae nearby. And as we know from talking about caterpillars, you need to have host plants for the adults to lay eggs on and hatch the larvae to munch upon. So, what host plants do we have at Harmony Hill that attract the presence of Eastern Tailed-Blues?
The top two host plants for this species are clovers; White Clover (Trifolium repens) and Red Clover (Trifolium pratense). Like so much of the southeast, or the entire United States for that matter, Harmony Hill has more than its fair share of nonnative White Clover. There aren’t many open areas that don’t have at least a few clover plants growing, meaning it is almost a forgone conclusion that we should have Eastern Tailed-Blues flying onsite. Upon seeing the male Eastern Tailed-Blue we observed for this week’s visit, we didn’t have to look too far to find deep green clover leaves spreading thickly in an opening. We took a few minutes to inspect the plants for eggs, but did not find any. During our walks, we will be certain to pay close attention, particularly if we see any females flying around.
Besides the two clovers species, other host plants for Eastern Tailed-Blues are also in the Fabaceae, or Legume, family. Members of the Lespedeza genus are host plants, and we have a couple species found over much of the property. Some of the vetch and pea plants, like Cow Vetch (Vicia cracca) and Eastern Milkpea (Galactia volubilis), are also known to host Cupido comyntas larvae. Though we haven’t documented female Eastern Tailed-Blues ovipositing on any specific plants, eggs on plants, or even yet observed caterpillars feeding on foliage, the abundance of clover and lespedeza here leads us to believe it to be the main host plant.
For the most part, the “blues” tend to have somewhat short flights. But Eastern Tailed-Blues are a bit of an exception, with a flight that lasts from March to October here at Harmony Hill. Compare that to their relative, the Spring Azure (Celastrina ladon), whose flight lasts from March to May. However, most adult “blues”, such as Summer Azure (Celastrina neglaecta), have a life measured in days. There is a lot to accomplish in that short life, such as reproducing and laying eggs. But they seem to do a fine job of doing just that, as we see a good number of each species each spring and summer in the meadows and fields of Harmony Hill.
The next gorgeous spring or summer morning you’re out for a walk in nature and you see a little one inch butterfly flying low to the ground, take a look to see if it is blue on top and gray on the underside. Chances are, it will be and, if it is, go straight into searching the hindwing for tiny tails and orange chevrons. You may very well be in the presence of an Eastern Tailed-Blue and a reminder to always look down, even as Mother Nature beckons your attention upwards to birds and leaves. Slowing down and looking all around you will reveal things often overlooked, and it will bring you more peace and joy with all you see.
A Drop of Golden Sun
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Time spent walking in the woods can almost be like looking through a kaleidoscope this time of year. Flowers are bursting with colors of reds, blues, yellows, and purples. Birds carry the rainbow upon their backs, as cardinals, goldfinches, buntings, and warblers dart through the trees. Butterflies rival the very plants they visit for nectar, with an iridescence and brightness that looks as though they were refracted through a prism. Even on days when we might not have as much energy to bound out of bed and explore the forest, and yes, we have those days on occasion, Mother Nature recharges our batteries and reinvigorates our spirits with shades Crayola would be envious of.
It was on one such walk that we came upon a small stand of wildflowers just on the edge of a wooded area. Even though a common species of spring, the sheer brightness and eye-popping color of this flower is reason to celebrate and take a moment to investigate its natural history.
Going by a few different common names such as Narrowleaf Evening Primrose and Sundrops, Oenothera fruticosa is brilliant bloomer in early spring at Harmony Hill.
But what’s in name? A member of the Evening Primrose family, (Onagraceae), Narrowleaf Evening Primrose doesn’t exactly abide by the rules of the family. Instead of blooming in the evening, this species blooms early in the day! Despite it being a diurnal evening primrose, the Narrowleaf Evening Primrose does have narrow, lanceolate (or shaped like a lance) leaves. And the origin of the name, Sundrops, can be seen in the blossom that looks bright and shiny, as drops of sunlight atop the stem of this plant.
What about the scientific name, Oenothera fruticosa? The genus name is a bit complicated, with no one entirely sure of the etymology. The translation means “wine seeker”, but that doesn’t really tell us anything. This plant doesn’t grow in vineyards or prefer to grow near grapes. Well, most naturalists think it might be that the roots of a similar plant or a relative of Sundrops was used to add flavor or scent to wines centuries ago.
One thing we can agree on is that, when in full bloom, Narrowleaf Evening Primrose is as intoxicating as any wine could be to the soul.
Blooming from late April to late June during some years, we’ve seen rainfall and temperature impact that bloom time. If winter and spring rains don’t develop or it tends to get hotter early in the spring, it isn’t out of the question to see Narrowleaf Evening Primrose bloom only in May. This year has been a good year for Sundrops, as we first saw it blooming in very late April and the last blooms were finishing up just a couple weeks ago.
In our time in the field here at Harmony Hill, we couldn’t help but notice the obvious attraction Narrowleaf Evening Primrose holds for pollinator species. Sure enough, a wonderful variety of pollinators visit this gorgeous plant. We’ve observed several species of butterflies taking nectar at the gorgeous blooms, and even witnessed a female Ruby-throated Hummingbird hover and sip at one of the flowers. Moths in the Sphingidae family are also known to take advantage of Sundrops, as well as other evening primrose flowers. They can even be a vital pollinator of evening primroses!
Probably the coolest example of pollination of evening primroses occurs in at least one species of sweat bee, the Eastern Evening Primrose Sweat Bee (Lasioglossum oenotherae). In gardens with cultivar species of evening primrose flowers, the Eastern Evening Primrose Bee is so closely tied to this genus that it is their species name! Being active early in the morning and late in the evening, this specialist sweat bee is active when the garden varieties of primroses are open and become a primary pollinator. One odd fact about this bee is that, despite their dedication and specialization to the Oenothera genus, there have been no reliable reports of this species utilizing native and wild evening primrose plants. That includes Narrowleaf Evening Primrose.
Side note on bee vision and colors that attract them on the landscape; bees see along a different color spectrum than humans. Seeing well into the ultraviolet, bee color vision doesn’t begin on the color spectrum until well into the orange wavelengths, with yellow being the foundation of where they begin to see colors. Red does not register in their vision, but when red mixes with blue and becomes purple (violet!), they absolutely respond.
Bees are also capable of seeing where one shape ends and another begins, with particularly acute vision for seeing changes in light and dark. Though quite good at noticing where something ends, soft edges and smooth lines can prove difficult for them to discern.
Flowers have evolved far more to meet the needs of pollinators like bees than bees have evolved to take advantage of flowers. Flowers with colors between yellow-orange and violet attract bees by sight more than black, red, or white flowers. Flowers with crisp edges to their petals also attract bees more often.
But, as technology has advanced, we have discovered patterns and shapes of flowers unseen by human eyes. Under ultraviolet light, we have begun to see patterns that look exactly like bullseyes and landing strips that are billboards advertising “EAT HERE” or “STOP BY FOR THE BEST NECTAR IN TOWN”!
Found across much of North America, the beauty of Sundrops was revered by early European settlers. It was eventually taken to Europe and introduced due to its brilliant yellow flowers, as well as introduced to other states and provinces. Originally, it was found from New England, down to Florida and westward to eastern Oklahoma.
With four petals of near perfect sunlight yellow, it is obvious to anyone why bees and other insects would be attracted to Narrowleaf Evening Primrose.
We’d like to provide a tip for identifying this plant when you encounter it. The leaf arrangement on Sundrops is usually alternate, particularly farther down the stem of the plant. However, as you get higher on the stem, and nearer the blooms, it is very likely that you’ll notice the leaves begin occurring opposite one another. Plants usually have sparse leaves, only occurring sporadically on the stem. However, it is not uncommon to find plants with thick arrangements of leaves that look almost roseate in arrangement. Be aware there is a fair degree of variability among this species, sometimes even within the same stand of flowers.
By far, we observe plants with sparse leaves that are long and thin, or lanceolate, in appearance on the property.
Though it is perfectly capable of spreading into areas of well-drained soils and abundant sunlight, we have never seen Narrowleaf Evening Primrose grow out of control or outcompete other wildflowers at Harmony Hill. What we have noticed is the sheer joy the glowing golden flowers, so appropriately nicknamed Sundrops, brings when we see them in the spring. And we have noticed that pollinators also see the loveliness, even if it is more for the prized tastes of nectar and pollen offered by this daytime blooming evening primrose. They exchange that nectar and pollen in return for carrying their pollen to others and making seeds for the next generation of Sundrops. And we’d like to think Mother Nature exchanges the beauty we see in return for us caring for the environment and helping ensure the next generation knows the importance of conserving the water, the air, the flora, and the fauna found around us. We think that is a more than fair trade for what we’re given on a daily basis!
Sculptured Pine Borer
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Have you ever walked along the edge of a field, through the woods, or even looked up at the night sky and wished you could capture the beauty you saw before you? There are artists who have been able to take a scene and perfectly present it, sometimes in their own way, that causes us to stare at their work. Whether it’s with a camera, as Ansel Adams so skillfully used, or with a brush, as masters like Matisse put their own interpretation on trees and hillsides, we have always been drawn to the use of light, shadow, colors, and scale to capture nature.
Yet, as much as we admire the talents displayed by these and other artists, nothing can ever compete with Mother Nature when it comes to jaw-dropping and awe-inspiring artistry. During this visit, we’d like to discuss a species that looks as though it would be as at home on the canvas of a Van Gogh painting as it is in a pine forest at Harmony Hill. Even its name points directly to the fact that it looks like a work of art!
True to its name, the Sculptured Pine Borer (Chalcophora virginiensis) proves Mother Nature to be a sculpture and painter. And it looks every bit as though it was designed by loosely swirling and blending paints on a palette, while keeping the insect cryptically colored and hidden in nature. That camouflage is perfect for hiding on the bark of a pine tree, a rock on the ground, or even the charcoal of a recently burned area of the forest. In the right light, it is even possible to see metallic glimmerings on the head, thorax, and elytra of this beetle.
With a name like Sculptured Pine Borer, we know you are wondering if this species is one of THOSE pine beetles! You know, the bad beetles that weaken and even destroy healthy stands of pine trees. Rest easy. This species only shows up on the landscape when trees are quite stressed and most often, when trees are already dead and dying. The Sculptured Pine Borer does not initiate damage or attack healthy trees. Adult beetles don’t cause damage at all, aside from munching on a few pine needles. In one of our photos this week, you’ll notice the remnants of pine needles around the mouth of this adult, meaning it did not wipe its mouth before visiting with us!
It has been our experience to only find them in places where dead and dying wood is present. And sure enough, it is an area exactly like that where we found this individual. As we were surveying a stand of Loblolly Pines that had been recently thinned, we walked over some downed course woody debris and stepped over some stumps of harvested trees. Though the woods were quite clean after a thinning, there were still some limbs that had broken off trees that were removed. It is that dead wood that no doubt attracted the Sculptured Pine Borer we discovered. The decaying of this wood in the healthy pine stand will continue and eventually the beetle will lose a reason to be in this specific location.
But we must remember adult beetles reproduce and make a new generation; grubs that do, in fact, eat the wood of trees. Again, it is important to remember that the adult Sculptured Pine Borers lay their eggs on trees that are dead, dying, or are stressed to that point. They seek out crevices in the bark of pine trees or even wounds or cracks in the tree itself to lay their eggs in.
These grubs are interesting to see in their own right. They have a flattened head that makes them resemble a small hammerhead worm! As they bore into the wood of dead and dying trees, they chew tunnels and crawl through the interior of the trunk and branches. Because of their flattened heads, the tunnels are wider than they are tall; giving the tunnels a shape much like a tiny sideways football.
If you ever split open dead or dying pine wood and see the channels dug by the larvae of Sculptured Pine Borer, you can even observe the growth of the larvae! As the larvae grow and they get bigger, so do the tunnels! If you have a piece of wood with a long enough zig zagging of channels of a Sculptured Pine Borer larva, you can observe the story of the lifespan of the grub by tracing the small tunnels to the wider tunnels!
Eventually, the grubs will chew their way out of the tree just as they become adults. Just as with their feeding channels, look for that oval, sideways football shape in the exit hole!
The question some of you may have might be, “Are we concerned about having this species in the forests of Harmony Hill?” The answer is, “No”. Considering we observed this in a part of the forest where we just had a logging crew do a thinning operation to increase the spacing and health of the trees, a place where we have down course woody debris on the ground and stumps of trees that were removed, we are not worried. This is precisely the sort of habitat we would expect to see Sculptured Pine Borers.
It is something; however, that we will keep watch for, should we experience a severe drought or other situation that could put extreme stress on the pines in those stands. We’ve had pretty good rainfall thus far this year; but, as anyone around here knows, that is something that can quickly change.
In the meantime, we will take a little time to admire the chiseling and brushwork of Mother Nature found on this beetle. The wavy strokes of an unparalleled artist showing her mastery of hues and color matching, hints of metallics, and making a gorgeous beetle that can disappear atop the granite outcrops and pine barks of Harmony Hill.
Before we close out this visit, let’s look at that name. We’ve all been able to appreciate the appropriateness of the common name, Sculptured Pine Borer. But what of the scientific name, Chalcophora virginiensis? Well, the genus name of Chalcophora means bearer of copper and is a direct reference to the metallic iridescence seen on this species in the right light. The species name is an easy one to interpret and is a nod to where this species was first collected and described, Virginia.
A very quick sidenote… A closely related species, Chalcophora georgiana, looks a whole lot like Chalcophora virginiensis. The Southern Sculptured Pine Borer often has a much more pronounced coppery tone on its exoskeleton, while the Sculptured Pine Borer tends to have an overall charcoal coloration dominated by blacks and grays. Though there are variations in the patterns and colors of both species, we feel confident in the identification of this individual, as there was a complete lack of copper and an abundance of gray and black.
Though We Gotta Say Goodbye For the Summer
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Spring has us all excited about the colors and the rebirth around us and we can hardly contain ourselves! Each new day finds a flower in bloom that has returned to the landscape after so many months of dormancy or a butterfly taking flight and lifting our very spirits with each wingbeat. It is almost as though Nature, herself, has a new gift for us to unwrap everyday as we get deeper into spring. In all our giddiness to see our friends from last year, we heard a sound in the woods that reminded us we are losing friends we’ve had all winter. There have been species filling the shortened, colder days that we just left behind; little glints of spectacular life and some color in the midst of the chilliness and grays of last season. When we heard that whistled call echo through the trees, we knew that, for all the joy we were experiencing in the newness of leaf buds opening around us, there are goodbyes to be said amongst all the daily hellos.
It was an early morning in a place where the pines give way to hardwoods, where the drier upland areas begin leading downhill to the creek, where we walked with the sun dancing in and out of the brand new spring green leaves still unfurling on twigs of hardwoods. The warm yellow light of morning kissed our face as we watched a moth fly past us and we took a deep breath of clean air that was just the right mixture of crispness and warmth. In that moment of joy, we heard a bird call out behind us. It was a call we’d heard on and off throughout the winter and it was a call we knew well. When we said the name of the bird out loud, as we often do when birds sing on our walks, we realized that call was from a species leaving us for the spring and summer.
Blue-headed Vireos (Vireo solitarius) are one of four vireo species found at Harmony Hill and the only species found just in the winter. Red-eyed Vireos, White-eyed Vireos, and Yellow-throated Vireos breed here and begin showing up just before Blue-headed Vireos prepare to leave in the spring. For a short while in late April and early May, we have the glorious opportunity to see and hear all four species. During the warmest winters, it isn’t out of the question for Blue-headed Vireos to be joined by a handful of White-eyed Vireos. But that is about as hit-or-miss and unpredictable as you could imagine.
Like their Red-eyed and Yellow-throated cousins, Blue-headed Vireo songs are based on the classic vireo cadence and even sounds extremely similar to the “HERE I AM! WHERE ARE YOU?” mnemonic we learned for Red-eyed Vireos. While Red-eyed Vireos broadcast their songs nearly nonstop and Yellow-throated Vireos have a croupier song that sounds more like “THREE EIGHT!”, Blue-headed Vireo songs are sweeter, higher in pitch and aren’t heard quite as frequently. As a matter of fact, if you choose to join us for the audio version of this “Walk in the Woods”, we’ll demonstrate that song with a recording we were able to capture during our walk to let you hear the song!
Also, just a quick thank you to birds with common names so descriptive and correct as this collection of vireos! True to their names, Blue-headed Vireos have slate blue heads, Red-eyed Vireos have blood red eyes, White-eyed Vireos have crystal white eyes, and Yellow-throated Vireos have buttery yellow throats!
Vireos are in the Vireonidae family, which are a group of birds that superficially look like warblers or even large kinglets. But their bills are thicker, longer, and come to a small hook at the tip when compared to any warbler or kinglet species. They use those beaks to forage for insect eggs and overwintering adult insects from late November to early May at Harmony Hill. They also take advantage of late season insect larvae in early winter and early season insect larvae in early spring. We’ve observed them taking small spiders and even the occasional holly fruit, but small insects seem to make up the majority of their diet here.
Looking specifically at the Blue-headed Vireo, we see it does have that slate blue head that its common name mentions. But it has a set of white “spectacles”, wrapping around its eyes and leading to its beak. These white spectacles; and, yes, that is the technical term we use a naturalists, give them the appearance of wearing white framed eyeglasses. A slightly dirty wash appearance on their undersides gives way to a dull olive green back. And be sure to pay attention to the wings when you’re identifying this bird, as there are two small wing bars; one near the bend (or wrist) of the wing and another about ½” behind it and farther down the wing.
We’ve discussed their common name and how it is both descriptive and helpful in identifying this bird, but let’s dive into its scientific name. The genus name of Vireo means “greenness” and refers to the often drab olive color found on numerous vireo species, such as on the back of our Blue-headed Vireos. Their species name, solitarius, means just what it sounds like, “alone or in solitude”. True to that species name, you are highly unlikely to find more than one Blue-headed Vireo at a time. Unless you observe them during breeding season, you are far more likely to ever only see them foraging without other Blue-headed Vireos around.
To be certain, they are quite often found in mixed flocks, hanging out with chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, and even a woodpecker or creeper. But we can’t remember ever seeing more than one at a time outside of nesting season and definitely have never seen more than one at a time at Harmony Hill.
Twenty-five years ago, the species known at the time as Solitary Vireo was split into three species: Blue-headed Vireo, Cassin’s Vireo, and Plumbeous Vireo. Genetic studies showed that, despite looking quite a bit alike and even sounding similar, they were three distinct species. We’ve had the good fortune to see each of the three species coming from that split and we must agree there are some subtle differences seen even in the field. Cassin’s and Plumbeous Vireos are western species and have never been documented at Harmony Hill. But the Blue-headed Vireos provide more than enough enjoyment for us during the quieter and starker days they join us onsite.
And it is that enjoyment we shall miss as we heard our friend bid us farewell for the summer. For even as we celebrate the massive increase in songs, activity, color, and light that this season brings, we will miss our winter friends. And we thank the Blue-headed Vireo for helping carry us through until its relatives returned to nest and consume countless insects in the forests and along the creek banks. Thank you for that lilting song you gave to us the other morning on your way northward. Until we see you again in late November, safe travels to you!
The Thespian of Harmony Hill: A Closer Look At the Eastern Hognose Snake
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Mornings often find us sitting in the golden glow of the sun, watching our bird feeders and the various species visiting for black oil sunflower seeds, white millet, and safflower seeds. Each species has their own behavior for choosing exactly which seed they want, even how they approach the feeders. Carolina Chickadees fly in, toss a few seeds around as they search for just the right sunflower seed, then quickly fly to a nearby tree to secretively peck away at their treasure. Blue Jays broadcast their presence from afar and swoop in like a massive bomber, scaring all other interested parties away. With the feeders rocking under the force of their deliberate landing, they continue to scream as they forage for whatever fits in their beaks.
Then, there are the Ruby-throated Hummingbirds buzzing around their nectar feeders. More often resembling gladiators looking to draw first blood than the aerial gemstones they sometimes seem to be, the maneuvers and acrobatics they demonstrate put any fighter jet to shame.
As elaborate and entertaining as these moments in the morning are, they pale in comparison to another animal’s behavior we’ve seen on walks at Harmony Hill. There is a resident here with behaviors that, evolved and instinctual as they are, appear to be little more than the histrionics and grandstandings of a comedic actor. A snake that is still fogged in superstition and misunderstanding in some parts of it range, but one we love seeing each time we encounter it.
The Eastern Hognose Snake (Heterodon platirhinos) is one of our nonvenomous and diurnal, or daytime, snakes here at Harmony Hill. Though they come in a variety of patterns and color morphs, their upturned noses make them unmistakable and easy to identify.
Most of the adults we observe here are a uniform black color, or melanistic, along the entire tops of their bodies. On rare occasions, we might see an adult with large, dark brown rectangles set against a lighter beige background. Juveniles here, on the other hand, are always patterned with contrasting yellows, beiges, browns, and even tinges of orange. Those patterns are a pretty good piece of near mimicry, making them appear much more like tiny rattlesnakes than hognose snakes. Perhaps having a similar appearance to a venomous snake grants them a little hesitation from potential predators and allows them the time to grow into adults.
Being in the lower piedmont, Harmony Hill has plenty of rock outcrops and places where the terrain will give you a workout walking uphill. But we also have sandy soils in upland pine woods, some ephemeral wetland areas, quiet creek banks and pond edges.
Regardless of where you look across their large range, which covers Minnesota to New Hampshire and southward to Florida and eastern Texas, that soil and habitat formula is perfect for Eastern Hognose Snakes. As with any species, we look at quality habitat from several perspectives. Being the good naturalists we are, why don’t we look at why sandy soils, pine forests, and waters with little to no movement are a prescription for finding Eastern Hognose Snakes.
First of all, we couldn’t expect a snake to be here if there wasn’t sufficient prey for it to survive and succeed. For Eastern Hognose Snakes, they overwhelmingly prefer toads as their prey. As a species, they so prefer toads over anything else that it can be an exclusive, toad only diet! Make no mistake, they have been documented taking other prey items such as frogs, salamanders, and even insects and small mammals. It has been our experience; however, that those other prey items are a very small percentage of the Eastern Hognose Snake diet. Of the times we’ve observed Eastern Hognose Snakes feeding, we’ve only seen them take Southern Toads, Fowler’s Toads, Eastern Narrowmouth Toads, and Eastern Spadefoot Toads.
Toads tend to be fossorial, a term that simply means they spend a large amount of time burrowed underground. Have you ever had to dig a hole? Softer, sandier soils are much easier to dig in and out of, no matter the species. Toads also need standing water or, in the very least, water with very little movement in which they lay their eggs. With much of Harmony Hill having sandy soils, shallow pond edges, a creek that occasionally spills over to leave standing water, and wetland sites that hold water after big rains, the overall toad population here is healthy.
In shades of the movie “Field of Dreams” and the quote, “If you build it, they will come.”, if you have the toads, the hognoses will show up. That is the case for us here.
That upturned nose that gives this snake their name is used to dig into the soil to find toads to eat. But the toads are not totally defenseless when discovered. Toads have two main defense strategies to deter predation, with toxic skin and the ability to inflate to many times their normal size serving as perfect ways to avoid being eaten. Eastern Hognose snakes have evolved ways around those defenses, however.
Inside the digestive systems of this snake are enzymes that counteract toxins found on toad skins! And Eastern Hognose Snakes have unique, longer rear teeth that serve as a means of delivering a mild toxin and, most importantly serve to pop inflating toads like a balloon! Looking at their genus name, Heterodon, meaning “different tooth”; it is a reference to those rear fangs. Back to that upturned “hognose”, we find a link to their species name, platirihinos. That word translates to “flat nose”.
Another wonderful use for that nose is female Eastern Hognose Snakes can dig their own burrows to lay their eggs. Though, at Harmony Hill, they rarely have to. We have an abundance of rock overhangs, holes dug by critters from squirrels to foxes, and natural depressions that mean female hognoses have plenty of readymade places to lay their eggs.
Finally, the whole reason we’re visiting with you this week; their outlandish behavior! When Eastern Hognose Snakes sense any threat, they become master thespians and put on a show better than anything you’re likely to see on stage or screen. The first thing this snake does at perceived danger is to try to look big and scary. They flatten their heads and swell up to look larger than they are. They’ll even begin hissing loudly to take the bluff to another level. If that doesn’t work, they’ll strike at whatever threat they’re doing their dead level best to fool into thinking they’re dangerous. But guess what?! They rarely even open their mouths when they do this bluff strike! Even when they do open their mouths, they don’t follow through with a bite; as though a bite could do anything to a potential predator. This behavior has led to them to be called “Puff Adder”, “Spreading Adder”, and “Spread Head Moccasin”. And it has also led some to believe they are dangerous and venomous snakes, neither of which are the case at all.
If the rough and tough show fails to deter the threat, they step up to the pièce de résistance! Pulling out all the stops and proving their acting chops, the snake will roll over onto its back, writhe in what looks like the last throws of death, smear a foul musk all over themselves, open their mouth, stick their tongue out, and play dead! By appearing to die and covering themselves in a malodorous musk, they try to convince a predator they are diseased and not to be consumed.
The act doesn’t end with the death scene. Nope! If they are disturbed and rolled back right side up, they will flip back over and get back to pretending to be dead. They will stay that way until they think the danger has passed. Only then will they decide the coast is clear, roll back over and slither away. If the threat returns, they will flop right back into the greatest death scene we’ve ever witnessed!
As whacky as their antics are, the behavior serves a wonderful survival purpose! Evolution has rewarded the reptilian actor and Harmony Hill benefits from the presence of Eastern Hognose Snakes. Sure, we delight in their beauty and their histrionics. But we also benefit from the check they keep on our toad population and from the predators that keep the hognose population at an appropriate level. Coyotes and Red-tailed Hawks, Eastern Kingsnakes and Bobcats are just a few of the predators that feed on Eastern Hognose Snakes. They are yet another vital part of the healthy ecosystems of Harmony Hill, another species that shows us our management efforts are working. And in this circumstance, a species that is a case study in animal behavior and bluffing your way out of trouble!
Trailing Arbutus: Early Spring Beauty
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A morning walk along the creek. An afternoon stroll in the trees. A nighttime outing in a field. These are all things that connect us to nature. And nature connects us to what we see, hear, and smell. On a grander scale, nature connects us to our neighbors, to the oceans, and to places miles and miles from Harmony Hill. Among the many daily lessons we learn as we spend time in nature and study her wonders, one of our favorites is this: there is no separation.
This week, let’s look more closely at a small wildflower that can be found blooming quite early in the spring from southern Quebec to the panhandle of Florida and from Minnesota to Mississippi. Even as we kneel beneath a Loblolly Pine in the lower piedmont of South Carolina, we see a diminutive flower blooming that links us and this beautiful place to other people and locations we’ve never seen. Range maps do that very thing, you know. They don’t simply show us where a species has been documented or can be found at various times of the year. They also illustrate sites that have some sort of similarity to where we are and, to a very real extent, places we are also responsible for protecting.
Trailing Arbutus (Epigaea repens) is not a terribly rare plant, as is demonstrated by its wide range across eastern North America. But it is a delicate flower that doesn’t tolerate much disturbance on the landscape, whether that is soil disturbance, flooding, or prolonged drought. Where it is well established; however, it can eventually grow into a lovely mat of green leaves and, this time of year, small whitish and pinkish tubular flowers. As is the case with our friend, the Spotted Salamander, we can use this plant as a type of metric for our management efforts and even for weather patterns at Harmony Hill. Though it doesn’t grow in many places here, Trailing Arbutus can give us indicators of whether we’re getting adequate rainfall, whether we’ve had too much rain and the creek as left its banks, or whether our thinning operations in thick wooded areas have been done responsibly.
As for evidence this plant is a connection for us to this planet, one need only look to the scientific name of Epigaea repens. The genus name, Epigaea, is a joining of two words that form to mean “upon the earth”. The prefix, epi-, translates to “above or upon”, and Gaea is an alternate spelling of Gaia, the Greek deity who is the personification of Mother Earth and who gave birth to the Titans and all life. The species name, repens, translates to “creeping”, as a direct reference to its habit of growing low and, when conditions are right, forming a ground cover.
Stepping back and reevaluating the translation of the scientific name, Trailing Arbutus is a plant that grows low upon the surface of Mother Earth, a place we all share!
Trailing Arbutus grows best in acidic soils that are well-drained, which Harmony Hill is blessed with. In the places we’ve documented it, it favors sandy soils in forests which are dominated by Loblolly Pines. Those soils provide superb drainage and have an inherently low pH. These sites provide partial shade and the mulch of fallen pine needles soften the blow of deer and even human feet; but, are also a double-edged sword. These sandy loams are the first to see the effects of occasional summer droughts that we’ve seen last for far too long. While Trailing Arbutus is tolerant of heat and drought, there have been summers that have been oppressively hot, with a lack of rain that stressed even adult trees with healthy root systems.
Down the hill towards the bottomland hardwoods and the creek, we find sites that can host Epigaea repens, but are not conducive for long lasting success. The soils are nice and acidic, but conditions are not best for Trailing Arbutus to grow for long. Though it doesn’t flood on a regular or predictable timetable, we’ve seen the creek spill well out of its banks and flood the forest floor for extended periods. Soils that are too wet or see standing water for any real length of time are incompatible for this plant to succeed. Also, the midstory and upper story of the forest can be a little too shady, blocking precious sunlight from this groundcover.
Soil compaction is another disturbance that will harm growing Trailing Arbutus and will prevent it from expanding on the landscape. But in a twist of irony, it can readily take advantage of wooded areas that have been opened and disturbed by fire or even mechanical means.
The flowers, while usually white, can also be found with various shades of pink on their tubular structure. Those tubes normally measure between ½” – ¾”, though they have been known to grow as long as 1”. Just a week after the flowers disappear, a small white fruit develops, resembling a tiny, pale raspberry. Thicker, leathery green leaves, measuring up to 2 ½”, are found all year, well after the beautiful flowers have faded.
Besides delivering a pop of elegance on the forest floor, Trailing Arbutus is utilized by wildlife. The fruit of the plant is eaten by a wide variety of birds, especially thrushes, towhees, cardinals, thrashers, and mockingbirds. It is also believed small mammals may consume the fruit.
Culturally, humans have used the leaves for various medicinal remedies and treatments since long before we walked the sacred grounds of Harmony Hill. Native Americans have made teas and tinctures to treat kidney and urinary issues, as well as stomach cramps and joint pain.
In more recent history, the common names of Mayflower and Plymouth Mayflower were given to Trailing Arbutus, as it was thought to be the first wildflower observed by pilgrims after their first harsh winter in the new world. We don’t know if that tale is true or not, but we can easily see how this early spring wildflower would lift the spirits of anyone after a long, hard winter!
One small plant, barely lifting more than a few inches off the ground. That’s what we’ve been discussing. A delicate flower on a plant susceptible to being snuffed out by flooding or ground disturbance, but is one of the first to bloom and remind us of the newness of spring.
But also, this plant is a reminder of our connection to nature, to this planet and, as it turns out, to both Native American culture and American history! When we observe Trailing Arbutus, we are reminded of people before us using it to treat ailments, of early settlers emerging from a trying winter to see its blooms promising better days, and of being responsible with how we move and alter the land. In being good stewards, we seek to better the land and get Harmony Hill to a more sustainable state, where her ecosystems are healthy and require less and less of the hand of man. In getting there, we want our footprint to be as light as possible. Trailing Arbutus is a plant we can use as a reminder to be as delicate in our philosophy and approach as it is on the landscape. And, as we look at the range map of this and other species, we hope others see the same connection and understand the responsibility of conserving places and things for others we may never meet.
Anticipating a Springtime Friend: Identifying Whorled Loosestrife
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Like so many of you, this time of year puts a little extra pep in our step, giving us a renewed sense of optimism. Each morning brings the songs of birds either returning to Harmony Hill for the spring and summer or passing through on the way to their breeding grounds north of here. The sun comes up a little earlier each morning and sets just a little later each evening, giving us two or three additional minutes of light each day. From the shortest days of winter, which are slightly under ten hours of sunlight, we reach our maximum of a smidge over 14 ½ hours of sunlight on the summer solstice. These April days between the two extremes lift us and have us looking forward.
Just as we miss family and friends after long absences, getting excited when we know a visit with loved ones draws near, our hearts also flutter knowing we will get to see our friends in Mother Nature who have been gone for many months. As we walk along the edge of the creek and look out at portions of the forest that are more open, we become giddy knowing there are wildflowers returning to fill those spaces very soon. Let’s talk about one of our old wildflower friends who we look forward to returning in the weeks to come.
During these talks, we cover a lot of material. We love to give the meanings of scientific names, the backstory on where some common names originate, as well as the when and where to look for plants and animals. Just as often, we love to give you identification tips and equip you with the knowledge to head outside, search, and discover the flora and fauna around you. Today, we would love to introduce you to a wildflower friend that you will be able to spot even in a crowd!
You know those people in your life that you can tell from a distance, even if they change their hairstyle, the way they dress, or even if they wear a hat and shades? Though there may be something different about their appearance, their posture and their overall being is unmistakable. Our friend, Whorled Loosestrife (Lysimachia quadrifolia), is exactly that to us.
As the common name “whorled” and the species name of “quadrifolia” imply, this plant *usually* exhibits four leaves surrounding the stem of the plant. But that is not always the case. It is pretty common for these whorls of leaves to number anywhere from 3-7. Like your friend who got a new haircut or wardrobe, this might change Whorled Loosestrife’s look; but, it doesn’t change the essence of the plant.
There are also usually four individual flowers held delicately out from the leaves and stem. The first clue we want you to key in on is with these beautiful yellow star-like flowers. They will be yellow, have red streaking or spots on the interior of the petals, and those five petals will be arranged in a star pattern.
Another identification tip we would like for you to focus on are the fine hairs on the leaves, flower axils, and stem of the plant. Seeing that pubescence over nearly the entirety of the plant, with a whorl of leaves usually numbering four, and fragile-looking five-petaled yellow star flowers, means our friend the Whorled Loosestrife is now your friend! It is easy to identify, though it may try to throw you a curveball by having a slightly different look than the name, quadrifolia, would make you think.
Found from Maine to Alabama and northward to the border of Wisconsin and Minnesota, Whorled Loosestrife prefers moist soils with partial sunlight. As a matter of fact, we look for it in wetter areas that occasionally see flooding or the boundaries of wooded areas that can hold water at various times of the year. However, in keeping with its penchant to do things a touch differently, you can sometimes find it growing in drier, sandy soils with several hours of direct sunlight. We’ve found this wonderfully eclectic friend growing in nearly full sun in a pine stand with mostly sandy soil, just to remind you it might be hanging out in a crowd you wouldn’t expect!
Even where it is found in our region can be variable. You are far more likely to find it growing in the piedmont and mountain areas of the state. But be on the lookout as you venture into the upper sandhills and coastal plain! There are disjunct populations of this wildflower found well away from the majority of the range, skipping entire counties and sections of states to be found near the coast.
The very flowers that we told you are definitive ways to identify Whorled Loosestrife begin opening in very early June and continue through late August. To keep you on your toes, Lysimachia quadrifolia is perfectly capable of blooming from late May all the way into mid-September!
Whorled Loosestrife can reproduce by underground rhizomes or by seed. In an interesting twist on cloning by rhizome, the root system between a parent plant and its offspring usually breaks down and the two plants lose their connection not long after the clone sprouts. This loss of direct connection prevents Lysimachia quadrifolia from becoming too dominant on a landscape, as can be the case with some plants that use underground rhizomes to reproduce.
Seeds develop from pollinated flowers and fall directly to the ground. With no dispersal of seeds by birds, mammals, or insects; and with rhizomes being the other means of reproduction, populations of Whorled Loosestrife tend to be found locally and in pockets.
With its wide-open flowers, this wildflower attracts an equally wide variety of insect pollinators. Numerous species of bees and butterflies visit the flowers for pollen and a small taste of nectar.
Prehistorically and historically, there are tales of Native American tribes who utilized the landscapes of Harmony Hill long before we arrived using Whorled Loosestrife to treat kidney diseases. And farmers in Europe, as well as early settlers to the thirteen colonies, would feed members of the Lysimachia genus to cows, oxen, and other beasts of burden to calm them and make them work as one. That leads us to the genus name our wildflower friend.
Legend has it that Lysimachus, a military leader who worked under Alexander the Great and who would later become King of Thrace, used a plant related to Lysimachia quadrifolia to soothe a temperamental ox. Lysimachus had a reputation for handling ancient beasts, even defeating a lion with his bare hands. Even with the tales of Lysimachus, there is, however, very little scientific data to back up the claim that Lysimachia quadrifolia can calm cows and cause them to work well as a team.
Myths and legends are one thing. But the beauty of Whorled Loosestrife is no myth. And the ability to identify it on the landscape can make you a legendary naturalist, particularly with its penchant to give you different looks. Just remember to look for the whorl of leaves, the yellow flowers with five petals, and the pubescence over the majority of the plant! No matter if you find it in an open moist forest in the piedmont, where you would absolutely expect it, or in a sandy pine forest in the coastal plain, you know what to look for. Think of Whorled Loosestrife as we do, a lovely and dear friend who might just change up their look and who might also visit you when you don’t necessarily expect them. But a friend who is easy to spot, no matter the time and place… And a friend we cannot wait to see again this spring and summer!
Spring On the Wing: Mourning Cloaks Are Flying Again
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The arrival of spring at Harmony Hill is a complicated matter. Not that the added chores and activities around the garden and pastures make things confusing, as that actually gives clarity to the days here. No, it is that Mother Nature in our region doesn’t necessarily follow the calendar to begin her awakening from the winter slumber. Just a look at the weather and temperatures this past month and it is easy to understand why there are leaf buds popping out everywhere we look. Bluebirds have already begun inspecting the nest boxes and the daily concert of frogs along the creek and the edges of the pond are getting louder each morning.
One of the surest signs that winter’s grip on the landscape is breaking can be seen flitting in the warm sun; a glint of contrasting dark and light, of iridescence and matte colors, of life lifting from the lifeless cold of the short days of the previous season. On beautifully graceful wings, sometimes worn and tattered from a lifespan far longer than any of its relatives, the Mourning Cloak (Nymphalis antiopa) is the first of the butterflies at Harmony Hill to take to the air, long before March 20th arrives.
Unmistakable in appearance, the darkness of the wings surrounded by brilliant whitish yellow of the Mourning Cloak is exactly where the common name comes from. The wings resemble a person in deep mourning, cloaked by a dark garment to show sadness and loss. In parts of Europe, where this species is also commonly found, the practice of layering in dark clothing to express grief can still be seen in modern culture. The wearing of a dark dress, suit, or even veil to a funeral or wake is an extension of that. And that is what was seen in the colors and pattern of the Mourning Cloak Butterfly.
Besides being documented at Harmony Hill this species is found across North America, Central America, parts of South America, as well as parts of Asia and, as previously mentioned, through much of Europe. Just as at Harmony Hill, Mourning Cloaks are often the first butterflies seen each year. In its northerly habitats, it is extremely common to see this species fluttering about while snow is still very much on the ground. Let’s look at how this species is first out of the gate.
The answer is quite simple. This butterfly hibernates. And it is quick to awaken when temperatures begin to rise. It can very often be seen on the first warm days of the year, then retreat to a safe place to wait out any cold spells that may interrupt the march towards consistently warm days.
A member of the Brush-footed Butterfly (Nymphalidae) Family, Mourning Cloaks use two important tools to survive the coldest months. They overwinter by finding shelter beneath exfoliating bark on trees, in clusters of dead leaves clinging to twigs, and even in old, abandoned woodpecker cavities. Furthermore, members of this family are cryptically colored and use that camouflage to elude the view of potential predators. When at rest with wings folded, Mourning Cloaks can easily be mistaken for a burned piece of bark or wood.
Overwintering is not a strategy taken by most of the adult butterflies at Harmony Hill. To the contrary, most species of butterfly don’t make it to winter here, much less through the winter. If the adults of most species aren’t gone by the first hard frost, that is the final event of their short lives. That is far from the case for Mourning Cloaks; however, as this species can find shelter and survive long periods of subzero temperatures. That extreme ability to survive frigid weather is quite useful in northern latitudes, but is not something they must endure at Harmony Hill.
Another behavior seen in many of the Brush-footed Butterflies that Mourning Cloaks are known for is that they overwhelmingly prefer to lap up moisture and nutrients from puddles, decaying meat, scat, and sap from trees, instead of visiting flowers for nectar. It is not unusual to see Mourning Cloaks hanging around the holes drilled by Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers, taking advantage of the sweet liquid made available by the woodpeckers. If you think about it, that makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Sap starts flowing in the trunks of trees when the temperatures warm up and that gets the sapsucker holes oozing, providing our early spring Mourning Cloaks with a food source!
While having the ability to survive the winter gives this species a leg up when it comes to being able to find food before most wildflowers are in bloom, it doesn’t necessarily come without its dangers. Their camouflage is effective, but not fool proof. Predation does happen. Sheltering out of the wind and where the cold doesn’t bite so hard is handy, but if the winter is particularly brutal or long, then the adults that hibernate may not make it. And the adults enter into hibernation in the condition they were in at the end of the warmth of last year. If they had damaged wings or other injuries, that physical impairment will still be there when they emerge. That might make them ready prey for predators. And the list of predators of this butterfly is long! From reptiles, amphibians, birds, and mammals to fellow insects, such as parasitic wasps and flies, Mourning Cloaks face a gauntlet of critters looking to take advantage of them as food or hosts for their own larvae!
Speaking of larvae, we know adult Mourning Cloaks feed on the fluids of trees, decaying meat, scat, and moisture on the ground; but, what of the caterpillars? At Harmony Hill, Mourning Cloak caterpillars use Black Willow (Salix nigra) and American Elm (Ulmus americana) as host plants more than anything else; but, Hackberry (Celtis occidentalis) is another host plant they will utilize.
This spring, we will enjoy seeing Mourning Cloaks as they fly around the creek and forests, knowing they will be mating and laying eggs soon. And we will be thankful for those adults that overwintered, knowing their 10–12-month lifespan will soon be over. We will delight in their beauty and grace, whether in flight or perched as they get much needed nutrients from anything but flowers. More than anything, we will be thankful as they herald the arrival of spring. Some have American Robins as their icons of spring. Of the many plants and animals we know foretell longer and warmer days, Mourning Cloaks are one of our favorites at Harmony Hill! No calendar needed when we see them out and about!
A Quiet Visit With a Golden Net-winged Beetle
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As we share our observations and discoveries at Harmony Hill, there are many things we hope you take away from each of our visits. We want you to know that some of the most interesting and beautiful things on this planet can be found a short walk from your front doors, and we would like for you to know that even plants and animals you may encounter everyday have amazing stories to tell. We would love for something you read here to encourage you to see that conserving natural resources is more important today than ever before and that making sure these things we talk about in our regular visits are here for future generations starts with each one of us.
But, more than anything, we want you to get outside and spend some time in Mother Nature. Sure, there are times we want to cover as much ground during a hike as we can, seeing as much of the splendor around us as possible. However, this week is a lesson in stopping and spending quiet moments in the woods, allowing your stillness to reveal species that might ordinarily be hidden underneath the surface.
While sitting on a fallen log and jotting down some field notes in our notebook, we listened to the morning songs of the birds and looked at some very early wildflowers beginning to break open well before the calendar would even have Spring listed on its dates. A Fox Squirrel shimmied down a Loblolly Pine and sat upon a low stump, surveying the area, and keeping a watchful eye to the sky. A Hermit Thrush hopped from the cover of an Eastern Red Cedar, quietly calling and scratching at the leaf litter. The calls of a murder of American Crows preceded the call of a Bald Eagle, as sure sign the crows were harassing the largest bird of prey at Harmony Hill. Dappled sunlight danced across the developing leaf buds of Sassafras saplings, almost like ripples of water from the heavens above.
As we finished writing the species we were seeing and hearing, preparing to return walk to another place in the forest, we saw a small beetle crawling out from underneath the carcass of a long dead Loblolly Pine. There, we saw a species that is quite common; but is often not seen due to its habits and behaviors. Conspicuous in appearance, believe it or not, this beetle is often overlooked or not even noticed by many in the woods.
This brilliantly colored beetle goes by a couple different common names; but, has just one very appropriate scientific name. Depending upon where you are in the world, you may hear this beetled called either Golden Net-winged Beetle or Red Net-winged Beetle. No matter what, we naturalists know this beetle as Dictyoptera aurora. (Before you ask, we are all naturalists here! Welcome to the family!)
First of all, let’s dive into the naming of this species. The common names might have you scratching your head a bit. What is a net-winged beetle? Take a look at the photos this week and you’ll see some very pronounced lines running down the length of the outer wings, or elytra, of the insect. Those lines have small ridges and resembled netting to early observers, giving us “net-winged” in the name. All net-winged beetles belong to the Lycidae family.
As a matter of fact, that leads us to the genus name of Dictyoptera. Quite simply, that translates to “net wing”, from the Greek “diktuon” for net and the Latin “pteron” for wing.
The “red” is obvious to most people, but what of the “golden”? In Roman mythology, Aurora was the goddess of the dawn. Any of us who have delighted at the rapidly changing skies during a beautiful sunrise can attest to the gorgeous shades of reds giving way to the golden hues of the sun as it lifts above the horizon. And, the species name is a nod to the goddess, Aurora, and her lovely golds and reds. (Side note… Au is the symbol for the element gold and oftentimes when you see Au or Aura in scientific names, it may be a nod to the color or the hue of deep yellow.)
That bright color makes this beetle really standout in the forest, especially when we look at the photos this week! It really pops against the dull late winter colors. That bright aposematic coloration serves as a warning to potential predators not to eat this beetle. Those same lines that run the length of the elytra are filed with a foul smelling and tasting chemical lacing the blood of the beetle. If the elytra are bent too much, or even broken, then this chemical that is specific to this family of beetles is released. So specific is this chemical, Lycidic Acid, that it is named after the family Lycidae. Like other beetles that expel distasteful and poisonous liquids, the Golden Net-winged Beetle can also secrete Lycidic acid from several jointed regions of its body. Lycidic acid is very effective in deterring potential predators from further injuring or eating the beetles.
So effective is this chemical deterrent that other insects, such as species of moths, have evolved to mimic the visual cues of net-winged beetles. This mimicry serves to trick predators and provides a level of protection my having similar colors, patterns and even shapes as species such as the Golden Net-winged Beetle.
In a future installment, we’ll discuss the various types of mimicry in nature, along with some examples we have at Harmony Hill. If we went off on that tangent now, this visit would be exceptionally long!
No visit with a species like this would be complete without covering diet. The Golden net-winged Beetle is right at home at Harmony Hill and the forest habitats found here. The larvae eat a variety of foods, including decaying plant material, fungi, molds, and even other smaller insects. Adults have a varied diet, as well. Though they still take advantage of other smaller insects, adult diets are mostly made up of pollen from flowers and trees, as well as nectar from flowering plants.
This adult Golden Net-winged Beetle was crawling out of a downed and decaying pine snag, which could mean it was either laying eggs or even looking for a mate. Sexes look similar, but the species is pretty easy to identify. They are between ¼” to just under ½” in length, they have the obvious lines down their elytra, are a lovely shade of crimson to lighter red, and they have the identifiable black spot on their thorax that extends to just onto the abdomen. Their antennae and legs are uniformly black and obviously segmented, clearly contrasting with the bright body.
Some days are busier than others and some mornings we feel compelled to walk farther and faster. But, we must remind ourselves that much of the beauty around us takes time to appreciate and observe. It is good to dwell a little longer and see what Mother Nature has to reveal. Had we gotten up even a moment earlier the other morning, we would have missed seeing this lovely woodland resident. So, please go outside and stay in that wonder for a few minutes more than you planned. Sit in those moments and notice something you may have previously overlooked. It might be a beautiful red beetle, or it might be another story Mother Nature wishes to tell. Just be sure to look and listen. If you do that, then the lessons of our visits are truly taking hold. And, for that, we thank you.
Making a Mark At Harmony Hill: A Sharpie in the Forest
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A walk in the winter woods at Harmony Hill, like so many places, allows for the senses to reach farther into the trees. The leaves of the oaks, hickories, dogwoods, and hardwoods are messily scattered on the forest floor. The songs of birds are much softer and are mostly limited to simple, short calls. There are no cicadas or katydids to fill the background with constant sound. And the sun streams more cleanly through air not stagnated by the heat and humidity of summer. Instead, we can see movement of animals normally obscured by vegetation and we can hear small sounds usually dampened by the near endless activity of longer and warmer days. It is in this open and quiet backdrop that our attention was snatched from observing a beetle foraging along a recently downed snag by the sound of wings fluttering quickly and a speeding blur from the corner of our eye.
The sound of wings we heard were those of birds; chickadees, titmice, cardinals, and robins, that spotted the presence of the blur much earlier than we did. Their very lives depend on knowing when this bullet of an animal is around. And it was their alarm calls that let every other bird within earshot know danger was extremely close. The cause for their alarm was a Sharp-shinned Hawk (Accipiter striatus), an accomplished and highly evolved hunter stalking the interior of the forests of Harmony Hill.
This area sees two members of the genus, Accipiter, during various times of the year. The larger of the two species, the Coopers Hawk (Accipiter cooperii), is a year-round resident. The smaller, but just as active member of the genus, Sharp-shinned Hawks, often called “Sharpies” are only found during the winter.
Small does not in any way mean less capable or any less feared by other birds. The male Sharp-shinned Hawk is about the size of a Blue Jay and weighs in at about 3 ½ ounces; but it is adept at taking prey as large as Northern Flickers and American Robins. Female Sharp-shinned Hawks, as is often the case among many species of birds of prey, are considerably larger than males. For this species, they exhibit a size difference of about 30% larger. This phenomenon in which females are larger than males is known as reverse sexual dimorphism. And it seems that more actively a bird of prey species hunts, the more pronounced the reverse sexual dimorphism is.
In vultures, like the Turkey Vultures and Black Vultures found at Harmony Hill, the difference in size between the females and the males is negligible. That could be because vultures don’t have to do much more than look and smell for decaying animal material. In our larger hawks, like Red-tailed Hawks and Red-shouldered Hawks, who actively seek out and chase prey, the size difference is about 25%.
But, as much work as Red-tailed Hawks put in to catch squirrels, rabbits, and mice, they don’t pursue potential meals with the effort and zeal that Cooper’s Hawks and Sharp-shinned Hawks. You see, the Accipiter hawks are built for close quarters attacks and for chasing other birds through tight wooded areas. Larger Hawks often patrol wide open areas or perch where they can scan vast areas for prey, then take the chase to the prey. Sharp-shinned Hawks lurk in the limbs of trees in wooded areas, where prey is obscured by obstacles, vegetation, and structure. When they decide to attack, they know very well the chase is afoot and the ultimate game of tag is on. Dodging saplings, cornering on a dime, and zooming through narrow passages made by limbs, leaves, and vines, Sharp-shinned Hawks are as agile as they are stealthy.
Now, let’s dig into a natural history mystery! Why would female birds of prey be larger than males? And why would the level of activity placed into hunting be a factor in that reverse sexual dimorphism? It seems counter to what we learned about other groups of animals. In most mammals, the male is larger. That size difference is thought to be evidence of reproductive fitness, ability to provide, and ability to defend a territory. We see it in most primates, and we even see it in deer, and even bobcats. Why is it opposite in birds of prey?
The simple answer is, “We aren’t sure!” There are a couple of leading hypotheses, but nothing we know for certain. Perhaps it allows females to hunt for larger and different prey than the male, keeping them from competing against one another and more effectively providing for growing chicks. Perhaps it gives females greater physical reserves for better survival rates and to face the rigors of egg development. Perhaps it could be all of that and even more. The fact is, those reasons make perfect sense; but, we just don’t know. And, as you’ve heard us say before, not knowing is fine. The journey to more knowledge is begun by knowing and embracing what we don’t know. Mother Nature has many mysteries she has yet to reveal to us. We’ll keep looking to the plants and animals of Harmony Hill in search of the answers, reveling in our curiosity as we go!
Now that we’ve looked at the big picture of birds of prey and reverse sexual dimorphism, let’s tighten our focus to our spotlight species. In every way, Sharp-shinned Hawks are built for their jobs, surprise attacks and high-speed pursuits in forests. Looking at this week’s photos, it’s easy to see the physical adaptations they’ve evolved to excel at hunting other birds. The sleek, streamlined body grants them ability to slip through small openings. The short, rounded wings give them the speed necessary to chase, but also the uncanny maneuverability to make quick changes in flight angles. The long, striped tail acts like a feathered rudder, accentuating the body and wings to increase agility. And those incredibly sharp talons and beak deliver the killing blows to prey unfortunate enough to not be fast enough to escape.
That rudder tail is likely the reason for the species name of “striatus”, meaning striped. The genus name of “accipiter” refers to the Latin for “hawk”, as well as the Greek for “swift winged”. Both extremely fitting for our fast hawk with a prominent striped tail!
Make no mistake, the circle of life is real and there is very little warm and fuzzy about surviving day-to-day in nature. At Harmony Hill, we embrace that circle, for it is Mother Nature working her magical ways to seek balance. Predator/prey relationships are a keystone to the web of life and nature. Sharp-shinned Hawks are a fact of life in surviving winters at Harmony Hill for their favorite prey: other birds, and the occasional small mammal or insect. Birds; however, make up the largest percentage of their diet when compared to bats, rodents, and insects.
We don’t know what became of the hunt we caught the briefest glimpse of. But we know hawks like the Sharp-shinned are only successful about 20-25% of the time. For every successful hunt they have, there are at least 3 or 4 others in which they come up empty handed. Whether it obtained a meal or not, we were able to witness one of the coolest birds to grace the trees of Harmony Hill each winter. And we marvel at the many lessons one bird can teach us about size differences, hunting prowess, and the beauty of the struggle of life and death in these gorgeous woods we call home.