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This summer, our berry crop has been excellent. Every day, on my photo jaunts into the Superior National Forest, I stop and eat wild raspberries and thimbleberries. I never carry water or snacks with me; mostly because of camera and lenses weighing me down.
One particularly beautiful day, I stopped in a clearing that had a dozen or so wild raspberry plants. I indulged in handfuls of the luscious wild fruit... also popping in my mouth a few tart thimbleberries that mingle among the raspberry plants. Thimbleberries are a unique wild fruit, they remind me of the "Sweet Tarts" I enjoyed as a kid. They are quite large and when you pick the over ripe ones, the juice runs and stains your fingers. The following photo shows the relative size of the thimbleberry in relationship to my model.
As I quietly "browsed" in my patch, I made my way around a large spruce deadfall. I noticed the tops of the hazelnut bushes moving back and forth. Now this was nothing new to me, since the red squirrels and chipmunks were in the height of their nut collection. The movement produced a black furry ear... then a large black, furry face. It seems I was lunching with one of my resident bears that roam our ridge.
The wind was in my favor, which at the moment wasn't much at all. He walked quietly out of the berry patch to my little trail. I thought for sure that he would go the opposite direction, into the wind. Wrong... he turned and walked in my direction about 30 feet from me. I had my 400 lens on my camera, so all that showed up in the view finder was this very large furry face. Plus it was dark for my f/5.6 lens, so I was shooting at 1/60th of a second; which hand held is not conducive to clear photos. (The shot below the title is what I ended up with)
I have my camera set for high speed bursts, so when I was snapping photos it makes a fairly loud, machine gun sound. He stopped and looked at me and couldn't figure out the sound.... he stood there for a few minutes and decided this was not the direction he should be taking. So he turned and disappeared into the forest. Normally, when I see or am around a bear and he sees me or gets my scent, he ends up crashing through the forest like a runaway train. But this bruin seemed to be enjoying the day and his berry lunch and left for reasons unknown.
It was an enjoyable respite for me, good berries, company, but poor conversation.
Some other bear friends of the past.....
"Bears are made of the same dust as we, and breathe the same winds and drink of the same waters. A bear's days are warmed by the same sun, his dwellings are overdomed by the same blue sky, and his life turns and ebbs with heart-pulsings like ours and was poured from the same fountain..." - John Muir
One of my recent posts chronicled the nesting and fledging of the Chestnut-sided Warbler. A few days ago, I took the final shot of a juvenile chestnut in his "full dress", getting ready to depart for his long trip to Central America or northern Colombia. To me it is an amazing story; each spring their long flight ends on our Cedar Ridge. The chestnuts build their nests, lay their eggs, feed their chicks and fledge their young in a matter of two and a half months. Now, they are readying for that long trip back to the tropics.
Yesterday, as I was refilling the hummingbird feeder, I had eight or so "Rubies" watching me from the cedar trees. I stood there watching them buzz each other and jockey for position at the feeder. I know they are fattening up for their long trip south and their migratory story is even more compelling than the Chestnut-sided Warbler. It is hard to fathom that this 3 gram speedster, will fly non stop across 500 miles of the Gulf of Mexico.
I have found nests of the hummingbirds in the forest and they are not only intricate, but fabulously camouflaged. They are usually located 10-20 feet above the ground, on a tree branch. Each nest I have found has a beautifully decorated exterior of lichen that exactly matches the tree limb. It is a work of art.
The female lays two eggs, about the size of a pea or jelly bean and by this time the male has "flown the coop." (Maybe this is why all the females at our feeder, continually chase the lone male out of the area). The incubation phase is usually around 12-16 days. The nesting period is longer than the chestnuts which is 11-15 days, the hummer's don't leave the nest until 15-30 days. Most will "practice" wing stretching and beating their wings rapidly for exercise. They will then make maiden voyages from the nest to trees in the area and back again. The fledglings will stay around the nest for a number of days being fed by the mother.
We have around a dozen Ruby-throated Hummingbirds visiting our feeder. They are extremely territorial, protecting their precious, liquid food source. At the moment we have only one male at the feeder and he is rudely welcomed at all times. This action by the females is quite interesting, because in most cases it is the male that aggressively protects his food source. It is reported that the older males are usually the first to arrive in the spring and first to leave in late summer. So I suspect that my lone male is a younger hummingbird.
One hummingbird stat that I found interesting is that many Ruby-throated Hummingbirds travel more than 2000 miles from Central America to Canada. Since our Cedar Ridge is located around 40 miles from Canada (as the raven flies) it is an impressive accomplishment... twice a year.
In the fall of 2008, our last Ruby-throated Hummingbird departed September 19. I imagine the weather will play an important role in their decision to leave our area. Until then we will be watching their feeder antics and do our best to fuel them for the long, perilous journey.
Hummingbird darts lightly through the world, spreading its message of joy and beauty, and teaching us to appreciate the wonder and magic of everyday existence. Hummingbird brings the gift of joy. Learn to laugh and be happy. ~ unknown
Recently, friends of ours who live on the shore of Lake Superior, called to tell me about a Merlin nest in their backyard. Merlins are raptors in the falcon family about the size of a pigeon. I call them "feathered bullets" because of their amazing speed and maneuverability. I have never had an opportunity to view a Merlin close up, only as they soared over my head on our ridge. The prospect of seeing these birds fledge was positively enchanting to me.
Merlins set up shop in vacant crow and hawk nests, they do not build their own. The nest is located in a huge spruce tree directly behind their house. It is nearly at the top of the tree and contained three noisy chicks, "peeping" constantly for mother to bring them lunch. One of the chicks hopped further out on a branch, possibly to get the first shot at mother Merlin's next food trip.
My friend put a ladder up on the side of his house, so I could get up on the roof for closer shots. I took a number of shots of the chick on the branch and eventually got a shot of all three on the same branch.
I took the first Merlin photo on July 6 and the last one on July 19; it was thirteen days of intriguing raptor observations. I spent hours each day waiting for a flying shot of mother coming in from the hunt. She came in like a lightning bolt and because of the terrain, it was impossible to get a good shot. All I got was a lot of wings flapping in the spruce branches. As the days and hours passed, I ended up with a pretty good photo chronicle of their growth and environment.
I got to observe unending trips of the adult birds bringing in food for the fledglings.
The fledglings made their first flights to surrounding spruce and dead birch trees.
Eventually they found the rocky shores of Lake Superior, bathing and enjoying the water pooled from the surf.
The finally occurred when all three fledglings soared from tree to tree and across a bay of Lake Superior.
Merlins I learned, are a very unique bird... they are deadly hunters of small birds and they are fearless. My friends observed them dive bombing a Great Blue Heron, literally running him out of their territory across a bay of Lake Superior. Each day they roamed farther from their nest tree; I never witnessed them hunting on their own... but I am certain that one sunny spring day, I will see one or more... rocketing above the shores of Lake Superior.
"No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings"~ William Blake
The nesting is over for most of the spring migratory birds. My old faithful birds, who I call the "usual suspects", have their chicks flying around like fighter pilots... that would be the chickadees and Red-breasted Nuthatches. Besides the ravens, the Red-breasted Nuthatches fledged early this spring and the juveniles are already eating sunflower seeds from my hand.
This morning, I probably took my last photo of the Chestnut-sided Warbler chick. I have been following mother chestnut since the early designing and building of her nest.
She picked up her first strand of dried grass and started her nest construction on June 1. It took her four days to finish her nest, it is constructed entirely out of dried grasses.
The nest was built in a low hazelnut shrub only 2 1/2 feet off the ground. It is completely hidden and surrounded by northern bush honeysuckle. During the first week in June, it was easier to see the nest, because the leaves had not fully matured. As time went by, the whole nest became engulfed in leaves and the nest was impossible to see.
I checked on the nest each day in June. I could walk up to the nest and take a long twig and move a leaf to see if mother chestnut was sitting on eggs. At times the nest was vacant, but she laid her eggs soon after the nest was built. I could never tell how many were in the nest, but I know there were at least three. I didn't want to intrude too often, so I checked the eggs only once.
One thing I have learned about birds, is that most respond differently to humans in the vicinity of their nests. The Hermit Thrush for instance, raises quite a ruckus when I check her nest. She "Peeps" and carries on, trying to draw me away from the area. The Winter Wren and the Indigo Bunting do the same thing. The Chestnut-sided Warbler, however, goes about her business as if I am not in the area. This is true while she is building the nest, feeding the chicks or when I walk up to the nest. I have found after watching the chestnut for years, this has never varied. When I am staked out on a photo shoot, she will fly a couple feet from me, picking up insects. I have had them fly directly at me and sit on a nearby branch resting and preening. I think they are the most social of the wood warblers that we have inhabiting our ridge. We usually have at least 22 species of warblers passing through here each spring.
Each day I stood in the same spot by a large patch of hazelnut bushes, watching the trips by both parents to the nest. I knew that the chicks had hatched. The minute I would arrive at my post, the male chestnut would fly into the bush and check me out. Mother chestnut knew who I was and never stopped or missed a beat. They basically could care less having me in the area.
The chicks left their nest on June 30, I know that because I had to chase a Pine Marten out of the area on that date. I had watched the chestnuts make many trips to the nest in the morning and in the afternoon the nest was empty. I sat on a log close to the nest area and waited for the parents to show up. It wasn't long before the mother chestnut flew in with an insect, landing in a small spruce. I carefully walked to the spruce, knelt and saw a tiny chestnut chick. I backed up far enough to use my 70-200mm lens; I wasn't more than three feet from the chick. Mother chestnut flew in with an insect as I wasn't there. She made countless trips back and forth feeding the chick in the spruce tree.
Eventually I found three chicks being fed. It became increasingly difficult to follow them in the deep woods. At times I would see one of the adult chestnuts flying into the brush and I would catch a glimpse of one of the fledglings. I am always amazed at how fast they grow.
It is always a relief for me to see the chestnuts hatch and safely leave their nest. This observation has become a yearly vigil for me and I will have the "empty nest syndrome" until next June. Until then I hope I get to see the fledglings in their full dress before the fall migration.
Jr. Chestnut-sided Warbler... July 11, 2009
I met Stubby on my trail to the Big Cedars last September 2. He was a little runt, disheveled and missing his tail feathers. Originally, I thought he had the misfortune of losing his tail feathers, but in future sightings I could see he was a newly fledged sparrow. September is very late for a fledgling to be dallying in the Arrowhead; cold nights, cold rain and snow flurries waiting in the wings.
Stubby hardly ever flew, he scurried around through the underbrush like a little streaked mouse. He darted from branches into the tall, dry grass looking for seeds. I didn't pay much attention to him the first time I saw him, because I thought there would be a mother sparrow somewhere in his vicinity. The next day on the trail, he was in the same spot, hopping and scurrying through the weeds. I stopped and watched him searching for seeds. Since I carry sunflower hearts with me for my chickadees and nuthatches, I threw a few down to him on the ground. He immediately hopped over to the seeds and started feeding on them. I spent many minutes with him each day, throwing him seeds and watching him eat them. It grew to be quite comical, because if he wasn't in the exact spot on the trail, I would whistle the White-throated Sparrow song and he would soon flutter in and eat the sunflower hearts.
What was interesting to me, was that he was always by himself; hopping up to me and begging for his seeds. At times, migrating sparrows would be in the vicinity and I thought Stubby would be missing the next day. A whistle or two would bring the little guy in for his morning treats. I began worrying that Stubby would not make the flight south to northern Mexico and I would have a wintering sparrow.
September 24 dispelled all doubt, for that was the last time I saw Stubby, at least that year. I took this photo of him that day and you can see that he grew out a magnificent tail and looked to be a strong flier.
This spring on the very same trail, albeit a bit farther up the trail, I heard a rustle in the brush. I stopped and this beautiful, female White-throated Sparrow hopped out to meet me. She was motionless on the trail and I took out a few sunflower hearts and tossed them down to her. Without missing a beat, she flew over to the seeds by my feet and began to eat them. I have approached many White-throated Sparrows in the woods and brush, but I have never had another sparrow act the same way as my little buddy Stubby. There is no way I can prove that this sparrow is my sparrow from last fall, but in my heart of hearts I am very sure that it is. Each day, no matter where I am on my various trails within a quarter of a mile, I will whistle and Stubby will find me and stop for a few seeds.
I assume that somewhere, someone has fed a White-throated Sparrow in their hand. Stubby would at times, perch on a branch a couple of feet from me, but she never attempted to land on my hand. She always ate her seeds on the ground by my feet. As spring rolled on, I missed her for a few days, but on occasion she would show up for her seeds. One day, there was a second rustling in the brush and grass. Out hopped a few feet behind Stubby, a brilliantly colored, male White-throated Sparrow. He always kept his distance, watching her approach me and pick up her seeds. Soon he was getting seeds tossed to him and enjoying his newly found buffet.
Days passed and Stubby and her mate began picking up their seeds and disappeared into the deep forest. This went on for sometime until one day she brought her newly fledged chicks for me to meet. It was an impressive new generation, if this was the same sparrow as last fall, she had done a fine job of raising her chicks. I could never figure out an exact number of chicks, but there were at least three. She would not let them get close to me, rather she would fly to them and feed them in a different area of brush. She wouldn't mind if I followed her to take their photos, but she had to do the feeding and not let them take their own seeds... much like the Red-breasted Nuthatches and chickadees until they were mature enough to eat out of my hand.
I didn't see the chicks today, but Stubby met me for her seeds and disappeared into the forest. I haven't seen her mate for a few days, but I assume he is around.
I will look forward to her visits until she leaves again this fall.
"He noteth every sparrow's fall"... A line from the Lutheran Hymnal.
