Florida dry prairie and the Lost Bird Project

Yesterday for work I took a trip to Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park (KPPSP), located in Okeechobee, Florida. This park is home to one of the last populations of Florida Grasshopper Sparrow, so it's a place I am hoping to become very familiar with.

There are several rather common bird species down here in peninsular Florida that I haven't seen yet, but will be able to with relative ease. Just on the drive to KPPSP I managed to get my lifer Mottled Duck and Crested Caracara. I've been wanting to see a Caracara for years. They're related to falcons, and seem to have a fierce and prideful demeanor. I actually saw about 7-8 that day, including two that were mating.

The office building had a lot of foot traffic from animals that would normally be hunted elsewhere, but here are protected, like these Wild Turkeys and white-tailed deer.

The dry prairie down here is quite a bit different than the northern mixed-grass prairie I became accustomed to in Saskatchewan. At first glance they seem similar, in that they were both large, tree-less expanses filled with low-growing forbs (herbaceous flowering plants) and grasses. However, the plant composition is very different down here. In fact, one of the predominant plant species is saw palmetto, a tropical-looking plant that can grow to six feet if it isn't burned regularly. It lived up to its name, as the sharp "teeth" can leave you with some nasty cuts if you're not wearing thick pants while walking through it.

Coming from New York, I'm used to bird numbers dropping off drastically during the winter months. However, Florida is the kind of place that birds escape to, not from, and even during this time of year, the prairie is enjoyed by a multitude of bird species, including these White Ibises. The white ones are adults, while the brown ones are juveniles.

Humans aren't the only ones that use the roads out here, and a close look can reveal some pretty interesting critters, including this ribbon snake:

And this velvet ant:

Velvet ants, or "cow killers," are actually wasps. They pack a painful sting, and shouldn't be handled if you come across one. Their bright colors mean "stay away, I'm dangerous."

Unfortunately, not all animals make it across the roads safely. Roadkill is a very common occurence on most roads, especially highways. When cars are moving so fast, especially at night, it can sadly be very difficult to avoid hitting an animal crossing the road. However, roadkill on park roads is very avoidable and should be taken more seriously. Besides human recreation, state and national parks are predominantly in place to protect an array of species or ecosystems. When animals are killed in parks simply due to human negligence, it is simply a sad waste, and every step should be made to keep it from happening. So next time you're driving through a park, please slow down. Nature isn't meant to be enjoyed from a speeding vehicle, and you'll help prevent animals like this black racer from becoming a casualty of human impatience. I would much rather have seen this racer alive than dead.

Luckily, I did get the chance to view some alligators up close and personal. I saw at least five of them, and they're definitely not an animal you want to accidentally stumble upon. I have a very healthy respect for these ancient reptiles.

This may be my own human feelings and assumptions coming into play, but I swear, looking into this one gator's eye, I felt... diminished. Humbled. I could almost feel a primeval intelligence in this animal. This was an animal that is at the top of its food chain. It saw me, and was unafraid. Unequivicably uninterested and uncaring. It was quite an experience.

I had one other very humbling experience yesterday, and I'd really like to share it with you. You may or may not have heard of the five "famous" extinct birds: the Passenger Pigeon, Great Auk, Carolina Parakeet, Heath Hen, and Labrador Duck. All of them disappeared in North America in the last couple centuries. These birds are forever branded in the minds and hearts of ornithologists today, as each went extinct due to man, some in more direct ways than others. Whether they were over-hunted, their habitats cut down, or their food sources removed, they each fought - and failed - to survive. The Passenger Pigeon, in particular, was so numerous that the mere idea of extiction was at one time inconceivable.

The Lost Bird Project (http://www.lostbirdproject.org) was created to remember these five species. A large bronze statue was built for each of them, and the artist traveled to locations around the country in order to find a place that best represented each bird. A documentary of this journey was made, and very unfortunately for me, the premiere (with the artist and all five sculptures present) was screened at the George Eastman House back in my very own hometown (Rochester, NY) this past July. Had I known about it, I would've been the first in line for this astounding event.

Here is the scuplture of the Carolina Parakeet. The only parrot endemic to North America, its last captive individual died in 1918 at the Cincinnati Zoo. However, new evidence has been brought to light that places its final demise in the wild in the 1930's.

It was then that the very last (to our knowledge) nests of the Carolina Parakeet were found, right in Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park. The eggs were taken by a collector, and the parakeet's very last hope was lost. The statue faces the slough (a swampy area with trees) where the nests were located, and the fate of the species was sealed.

The artist's hope in creating these statues was so that people would remember. Ornithologists may know about these birds, but very few people outside of that community do. In his words, "these birds are not commonly known, and they ought to be, because forgetting is another kind of extinction." If we can't learn from our past, if we can't remember these lessons, then the same thing will happen again and again. In fact, more North American birds have disappeared much more recently. Some, even within our own lifetimes. And they've disappeared so silently, because barely anyone even knew about it, and fewer cared. So if you remember those five birds, please also remember these: Bachman's Warbler. Ivory-billed Woodpecker. Eskimo Curlew. Dusky Seaside Sparrow. And possibly within the next decade: Florida Grasshopper Sparrow.

Take a bird as common as the robin. How would you feel if your children, your grandchildren grew up having never even heard of it? Having never seen it searching for worms in their backyards after a rain? We take these species, every species, for granted. Take even the woods or fields in our backyards for granted. Definitely take animals and habitats in far-off lands that we'll never see for granted. Please, don't take our earth for granted. And please don't forget to remember what we've already lost, or else there is no hope for what still remains.

First trip to the Hammock

On Friday I took my first trip to Highlands Hammock State Park, which is only about a 15-20 minute drive away. It's located just southwest of Sebring, and is apparently one of Florida's oldest parks. It was my first time visiting a hammock ecosystem, and although I'm having a difficult time getting an exact description of what defines a hammock, it has to do with the geology and plant community of the area. They seem to be very tropical-looking (at least to my eyes), and very swampy.

Although the park had several trails to choose from, all of which traversed a slightly different type of habitat, I made a rookie mistake and wasn't able to explore many of them. As an upstate New Yorker, the last thing I thought of to bring on a hike in mid-October was bug spray. But I should have realized that mid-October in Florida, on an 85-degree day, was a completely different situation. The moment I stepped out of my car, I was completely bombarded by very hungry mosquitoes. I couldn't believe what an idiot mistake I'd made! I almost gave up right then, and got back in the car to drive the main loop instead of walking the trails on foot.

Within a couple minutes, however, I came upon two older birders, poised in the classic "I've got something" stance. I couldn't pass up the opportunity. The fantastic thing about birders, is that they are, almost without exception, very nice and welcoming people. It's the one thing that makes me able to go up to any stranger and, as long as they're holding binoculars, ask them what they're doing. So I stopped, got out of my car, and asked the couple what they were seeing. I spent about ten minutes birding that one spot with them, as there seemed to be a concentration of birds hanging around. That's the thing with birding. One patch of woods will be teeming with birdlife, while another is completely dead. Especially during fall migration, when birds tend to be more gregarious and group up, even forming mixed flocks with other species.

This time of year down here, some of the birds are still singing. I'm not used to that, as the birds fall silent much sooner up north, where breeding seasons are much shorter and winters are much harsher. Unfortunately, I'm a little out of practice with birding-by-ear, and am not used to the cocktail of species moving through the woods down here. It makes for very frustrating birding, as I know I'm not "catching" half the species that are actually present, because I just don't know what it is I'm hearing. If I don't get a good look at it, it's hopeless. And fall birds are tough to identify even by sight, as many of them are in confusing fall plumage that makes many species look alike. It's something I would really like to work on and improve at.

Anyway, with the help of the very nice couple, I managed to spot my very first yellow-throated warbler (not to be confused with the common yellowthroat... which is also a warbler). They're quite common down here, and hang around all-year round. It was still exciting for me, though.

Once I got into the birding groove, I was able to better ignore the myriad of buzzing insects and brave one of the trails. The one I chose was definitely worth it, as it took me out onto a wooden catwalk that traversed a cypress swamp, a habitat I'd never seen before.

It was beautiful, and haunting, and filled with birdsong. I loved every minute of it. Despite my difficulties, I was able to identify a handful of birds, including this black and white warbler.

They cling to the trunks and branches of trees, much like nuthatches, gleaning insects from the bark as they move up and down. The trees themselves, bald cypresses, were quite a sight. They are deciduous conifers, meaning that, unlike pine trees, they typically lose their needles during the winter. Their trunks near the base are surrounded by "knees," which help keep them anchored in the saturated soils they grow on.

I even found this one growing right onto the planks of the boardwalk!

The highlight of my walk was watching a red-shouldered hawk fly into the trees right ahead of me. It must have caught something, as I could see it using its razor-sharp beak to tear into something it was holding.

It must be used to the passage of people, as it allowed me to walk right under and past its tree without flying off. It also didn't seem to faze the small group of immature white ibises, some of which were perched in branches only meters below it, and others of which were nonchalantly feeding in the swampy waters below it.

As I passed through the swamp and emerged onto the trail at the other end, I felt like I was passing through a jungle. Which maybe I was, in some sense. The air was hot and humid, the air felt and tasted different. Every step I took sent tiny lizards skittering into the bushes. I felt that, at any moment, I could encounter some primeval monster of the swamp. I loved it. I think I'm really going to enjoy living and working down here. And as I was leaving the trail, I was lucky enough to get some great looks at a pileated woodpecker. Certainly a beauty of the swamp, if I ever did see one.

Welcome to central Florida

It has been a long time since I've written in this blog. Too long. But since my recent permanent move to Avon Park, Florida, I thought this would be the best way of keeping my friends and family up to date with my daily adventures. For anyone who doesn't know, I recently was hired as a research assistant at Archbold Biological Station, a non-for-profit research station dedicated to the biological exploration and conservation of Florida's endangered wildlife and habitats. I will be working primarily with the red-cockaded woodpecker (Picoides borealis), an endangered species that is found only in mature pine forests of the southeastern U.S., and also with the Florida grasshopper sparrow (Ammodramus savannarum floridanus), a critically endangered subspecies endemic to central Florida and currently numbering only in the hundreds.

I moved down here just over a week ago, and tomorrow is my first official day of work. My hope is that by reading my upcoming posts, you will not only become familiar with the type of work I'll be doing, but realize just what kind of challenges accompany the research and conservation of a declining species. More importantly, I hope to convince you (if you're not already) of the reasons why it's so important to save these little birds, and how much emptier our world would be without them.


http://www.archbold-station.org/

Week two

Whew! What a week to be out working in the Pine Bush! It's been quite a week. Long, hectic, and lots of new things going on.

Much of my time is spent in areas that look like this:

The "classic" Pine Bush is comprised of a mixure of pitch pine and scrub oak. It makes for a beautiful landscape, though the scrub oaks can be very difficult to move around in. The Pine Bush is a fire-dependent ecosystem, and if it isn't burned regularly, the scrub oak will take over entirely and almost nothing else can grow. Unfortunately, only about 25% of the preserve looks like this. The other 75% is deciduous forest. Which in some cases can be a good thing, but in this case it's not. Within five years, the preserve hopes to reverse those numbers. However, the variety of habitats means that many birds breed in the Pine Bush. This is a Field Sparrow nest with eight eggs, the most I've ever seen in a sparrow nest (look sideways).

Some of the other common birds around here are blue jays, crows, chickadees, towhees, prairie warblers, common yellowthroats, chipping and field sparrows, indigo buntings, and bluebirds.

I find the mixture of pine bush and woodlands to be pretty interesting, though a little disorienting at times. One of the sites I had to visit this week started with a trail through a very nice patch of woods, covered in pretty flowers like this one.

Suddenly, a second later I emerged into a clearing that was completely Pine Bush, lupines and all. Most of these sites were woodland originally, but were restored to Pine Bush through clearcutting, mowing, and herbiciding the landscape, then replanting lupines and other native Pine Bush plant species.

The Pine Bush is unique because it sits atop a series of sand dunes. The sand is left over from when this area was covered by glacial Lake Albany. The wind then scuplted the sand into many small dunes, which makes this region a litte hilly.

This means the plants that grow here are pretty unique. They are able to grow on sand, which is very difficult to do. Sand doesn't hold nutrients very well.

Sometimes you can even see leftover bits of shells from the ancient lake.

There are dozens, maybe hundreds of plant species that grow here, including some really beautiful ones like this wild columbine.

This week we began doing some of the real work. Monday was spent counting lupines at a few of the smaller sites. It's EXTREMELY difficult and time-consuming.

Tuesday through tomorrow we've been alternating between surveying for Karner blue butterflies and frosted elphin butterflies. Wednesday was exciting because it was the first day any of us saw a Karner. We each have different sites that we survey, and one of my sites happens to be where the preserve released Karners last year. They're really excited that the butterflies are still there.

Wednesday was also the day we became acquainted with the Prairie Warbler work that's going on. Apparently this species is more indicative of prime Pine Bush habitat than any other bird species that occurs here. So the preserve has been catching, banding, and following the warblers for the last couple years. Over fifty individual birds are banded now. This year, it will be our job to try to relocate some of those individuals (which can be told apart by the color bands on their legs). By seeing how many warblers are still around this year, the preserve can attempt to estimate the survivorship of this population. Pretty cool stuff.

Lupine Festival

Today the Pine Bush held its annual Lupine Festival, so I stopped by for awhile to check things out. It seemed like a great event for children and families. Mostly there were kids' activites, but they also had a "wildlife show." My favorites were the birds, of course.

A peregrine falcon, fastest animal on earth.

A Cooper's hawk, which is actually threatened in New York State. I didn't know that, and now feel even worse about the one that died hitting my window a few weeks ago.

A female red-tailed hawk, one of my favorites.

And a very grumpy-seeming great horned owl. Although I suppose they always look a little grumpy. Something about the wide, staring yellow eyes and "ear" tufts.

These birds had all been injured (by cars mostly, I believe) and are no longer able to survive in the wild. So instead they are used for educational purposes, to help convince the public how wonderful and fascinating these creatures really are.

First week

Well, I've made it through my first week at the Albany Pine Bush!

Unfortunately it rained during almost our entire period of training. And since this is a field job, it meant a lot of time spent slogging through areas that looked like this:

But it's all good fun. So far, I think this is a really neat place. It's completely different from anything I've done before. I've always worked in places that were very remote, like on an island in Maine or in the middle of a Saskatchewan prairie. The Pine Bush, however, is an example of an urban ecosystem. Not originally, of course, but now the remainder of it is fragmented and interspersed with both housing and commercial developments. In other words, houses, businesses, and sometimes even malls can be seen from many of my study sites. It's unusual for me, but good, too. Not all habitats can be preserved in far-off places. Sometimes the most important are the ones right in people's backyards.

Most of the work I'll be doing this summer involves surveying for butterflies. Namely, the Karner blue butterfly, which is federally endangered, and the frosted elphin butterfly, which is threatened in New York State. The Karner blue, in particular, depends on lupine plants.

The Karners don't actually feed on these plants, but lay their eggs on them. No lupines = no Karners. Luckily, lupines are really beautiful, and I think most people wouldn't mind having them around.

The lupines have particular habitat requirements, needing sandy soil in which to grow. The Pine Bush is the perfect place, because it's made entirely from sand dunes! I just love these flowers. Occasionally, I'll come across a white one as well.

The Pine Bush is home to many threatened or rare species, which is what makes it so special and so important. This plant, called a birdfoot violet (for the shape of its leaves) is found nowhere else in New York State.


There are some really neat critters here, too. Yesterday, on my first day out by myself, I found this awesome little guy:


It's an eastern hognose snake, which is threatened in New York State. I've actually only seen its cousin, the western hognose, so I was really excited to find it. They're probably my favorite snakes. When they get scared, they puff up and hiss, which is what this one did when I picked it up. They've also been known to roll right onto their backs and play dead.

And that wasn't my only cool find of the day:

I stumbled right on a Song Sparrow nest! A couple years ago, I never would have found this nest. But my graduate work on prairie songbirds in Saskatchewan was entirely based on my ability to find nests on the ground. A lot of that ability comes from recognizing when a bird is flushing from a nest by observing its behavior. When I was walking along yesterday and saw a Song Sparrow fly very suddenly from close by on the ground, I knew there had to be a nest, and within a few seconds I found it!

What I found especially interesting is that these eggs look exactly like the eggs of both Savannah and Baird's sparrows, which I studied out west. I'm willing to bet these species are all closely related (clay-colored and Brewer's sparrows eggs, for example, are a solid robins-egg blue).

I might be doing some nest-searching for prairie warbler nests later in the summer. That will also be a bit different for me, because prairie warblers nest in shrubs that are off the ground, instead of right ON the ground.

Springtime in NY

Welcome back!

As I proved last summer, I'm not great at keeping up with these things. But I thought I'd try again this summer, as I'll be in a whole new place and doing some entirely new things. In a week and a half, I'll be heading to the Albany Pine Bush Preserve in NY's state capital to do some work with Karner blue butterflies and prairie warblers, to name just a couple.

But before I get to that, I thought I'd share some of the beauty of springtime in my hometown of Greece, NY.

Despite the rainy conditions we've been having over the last week, the warblers seem to have arrived in full force. Without even having to leave my yard, I've seen yellow, yellow-rumped, blackburnian, black-throated blue, black-throated green, mourning, and northern parula.

On the non-warbler sides of things, I've been having the usual chickadees, robins, cardinals, and grackles, as well as white-throated sparrows, hermit thrushes, and at least one VERY persistent eastern phoebe.

I even had a few Canada geese visit my yard yesterday.

And one VERY cute baby bunny, which I suspect is living under our wood pile.

Unfortunately, with all these birds coming through, some tragedies are bound to happen. The back of my house has many large windows, which have been the demise of more than one bird through the years. Luckily, most of them do live to fly away. But last week, a very loud BANG led me to find this poor guy:

A beautiful juvenile Cooper's hawk. He died quickly, but it still saddens me to see such a wonderful bird, and such a young one, meet its end.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to sharing my experiences this summer in a whole new place. All the field sites I've worked at in the past have been extremely remote. As the Albany Pine Bush is right on the outskirts of a major city, it will definitely be a change for me, but a good one I hope.