Merlin Bird ID: Great Birding App

Normally in this blog I talk about the things I see around me in the natural world. Observation is a skill I'm always working at improving. One way to get better at recognizing what I see is through the use of field guides and 21st century tools, like apps. Cornell's Lab of Ornithology recently released the new app they've created for identifying birds. From their website:

"Information overload is the bane of the beginning bird watcher—as anyone knows who has ever flipped through 40 species of sparrows in a field guide. What if an app could quickly tell you which birds are most likely based on your location, date, and a brief description? Not just which birds theoretically could occur near you, but which birds are actually reported most often by other birders. That’s what Merlin Bird ID does. And it's free—because we want to make bird watching easier for everyone.

Merlin Bird ID covers 285 of the most common birds of North America (with more on the way). In addition to help with ID, it contains expert tips, more than 1,400 gorgeous photos, and sounds for each species. It’s available now for iPhone and other iOS7 devices, and it's coming soon for Android."

I downloaded the app to an iPad - it took awhile but the wait is worth it. You provide information about the size and color of the bird and in which habitat you saw it. Then a list of names with pictures comes up. Click on the bird you think you saw and learn more. There's information about the bird - where it lives, what it likes to eat, what it sounds like. I've downloaded several other bird apps (the free versions) and they usually give you a limited number of bird species as a way to get you to pay for the full version. But Merlin Bird ID is thorough and, in my opinion, very useful. Learn more about the app at http://merlin.allaboutbirds.org/  Check it out!

Life in the Cold

During the winter, the nature center teaches a class about how animals deal with winter. Life in the Cold helps students understand that all approaches to surviving winter come with challenges. No approach  - migration, hibernation, staying active - is better than any of the others or is a guarantee of survival.

I saw that firsthand today. The overnight low temperature hit -23F. The daytime highs (high? ha!) were about -12F. Winds were gusting around 20 mph so windchills were 30-40 below. Cold, cold, cold. Too cold for schools to be open. Too cold even for animals.

Yesterday, one of the naturalists was at the nature center caring for the raptors. She noticed a young squirrel huddling up against one of the buildings, digging under leaves. She assumed it was trying to get warm, so she put a bucket filled with some fabric and left it in the area hoping that the squirrel would use it for shelter.

If you've read my more recent posts, you know I've been having trouble with squirrels getting into my feeders at home. Squirrels don't rank high on my list of favorite animals. But I don't wish them to suffer or die. Unfortunate for the young squirrel at the nature center, the weather was too much for it. This morning , while caring for the raptors, the other naturalist and I found the young squirrel. Dead. Frozen.

I know that yearling animals aren't likely to survive their first year. It's what I teach the kids during Life in the Cold. With the temperatures that we've been experiencing, I'm sure many animals died or will die as this polar vortex smothers us in bitterly cold temperatures. It's just hard to deal with when you see it firsthand. RIP Mr. Squirrel.

Under Assault

For years, one of the feeders in my backyard was a fortress -virtually squirrel-proof. It sits in the center of the yard, far enough away from the lilacs, the mulberry and maple trees that squirrels aren't able to jump to it. A large baffle keeps the yard varmints from being able to schinny up the pole and into the feeder from the ground. A sanctuary for the mourning doves, chickadees, finches, and juncos who gather daily to feast on sunflower seed, cracked corn, and peanuts. And so, except for the rare occasion in winter when the snow would get deep enough so the squirrels could jump up into the feeder, it was the perfect squirrel-proof feeder. Until last week...

A new generation of squirrels have all the daring of Evil Kenieval and the acrobatic skills of the Wallendas. It took awhile to figure out how they were getting into the feeder, but using my superior observation skills (ha!), I figured it out. Imagine inching yourself out to the tip of a branch no bigger around than your pinkie finger. You begin bouncing up and down slowly, making the branch drop closer to the peak of the feeder. It's still a good five feet between the bobbing branch and the feeder, but you're a daredevil squirrel and with glee, you launch yourself off the branch. You land - SMACK - on the peak and now it's easy-peasy - let the feasting begin. At least until  a crazed human comes charging out the door to chase you from the feeder. 

This cycle of squirrels invading and me yelling went on for a few days. My brother-in-law joined the battle. He brought a pole saw and snip-snip (really more like saw-saw) the duplicitous branch was gone. Problem solved. Or so we thought. Jason wasn't gone a half an hour and - you guessed it - squirrel in the feeder. The next day the mulberry tree got a pruning. The branches closest to feeder were gone. 

You'd think it was the end of the war. For the squirrels, it was just a lost battle - the war wasn't over. These squirrels really want the seed. With the original branch gone, they switched to a higher one. Fewer squirrels are willing to risk the leap, though. Christmas Day the family watched as one squirrel after the other would scamper up the trunk, shimmy out on the branch and then debate how badly it wanted the seed. And in most cases, it would give up. But there are a few who dare. 

The war will continue. There will be days when a squirrel gets in. But not for long - my vigilance will be unending. And maybe come springtime, I'll move the feeder. There's only so many branches you can trim before you're left with a stick. 

What's in a name?

Prairie grasses run alongside the raptor mews at the nature center. The small hillside is usually unremarkable - it doesn't have the variety of forbs that the main prairie does. Most days, I walk past it and don't really think about what's there. So, that's probably why I noticed something unusual on the hillside today. During lunch, I noticed some of the grasses bobbing up and down much more enthusiastically than could be produced by the existing wind. Riding the stems and pecking at the seed heads were small birds - about a dozen of them.

The rusty cap and white on the wings helped me identify these birds: American Tree Sparrows. They're about 4" long and have a gray stripe between a black eye line and the rusty cap. They look a lot like chipping sparrows, but have a dark mark on their chest. (Notice it on the middle bird?)

When the early settlers first saw these birds, they thought they were seeing tree sparrows like those in Europe. But, as often happened, the European version was a totally different species from the North American one. This bird - the American Tree Sparrow - doesn't like trees! 

It gathers and feeds in open areas or where there are grasses and seedy plants. We're likely to spot them in winter when they move as flocks. They rarely eat at feeders, so that's why I didn't recognize this species. My backyard has lots of trees and shrubs - ironically the absolutely wrong habitat for tree sparrows. I'll keep my eyes open for them at work, since they won't be interested in my yard. 

Trampled by ...Squirrels

My backyard is covered in snow. Wednesday night it was pristine - a white blanket covering the shrubs and grasses and camouflaging the structures. It looked lovely. Thursday morning the snow was dotted with a few tenacious maple leaves, finally ripped from the trees by the strong overnight winds. But the snow was still a smooth coating over the yard. And then - Thursday afternoon: the lovely smooth surface of white was gone. There was almost no spot not stepped on, run over, or schmushed. It had been trampled - trampled by squirrels.

I've noticed more squirrels in the yard lately. It's not unusual to see six or seven at at time. And they're usually chasing each other. So, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that there are tracks everywhere. It's a record of the squirrel movement throughout the backyard  over the course of a day. It might have been neat to have a camera out there recording the movements over the course of the day, but for now, here's the final view.

Signs That It Isn't Fall Anymore

 I found out in the past week that fall headed into winter sooner than I planned. There have been lots of signs that it was coming - the last of the leaves fell from the maple trees this week. All the other trees are bare, except for the ironwood in the front yard. Maybe they're like oak trees and hold their leaves all winter, dropping them in the spring to suppress competitive growth from understory plants.

Male goldfinches have molted to their drab winter coats and the juncos seem to have settled in. I packed away the garden tools and got the snow shovels ready.

There's ice on the ponds - a smooth, solid surface, but not thick enough to walk on yet. Unless you look at my rain barrel. I went to empty it yesterday and there had to be at least ten inches or more of water inside that is frozen solid. Note to self: Always drain the rain barrel by the beginning of November unless you want a very small ice skating rink.

Then I thought I should put out some of the Christmas decorations. We usually decorate one of the big flowerpots with spruce tips and red osier dogwood branches. It's simple - just push the ends of the branches into the soil. And it might be that easy if only the soil wasn't frozen solid. It took four kettles of boiling water to soften the dirt enough to be able to shove the spruce and dogwood deep enough for them to stay put. Note to self: Decorate the pots by the beginning of November.

Tomorrow is the first of December: the beginning of meteorological winter. Yah - it will really be winter. But I already guessed that given the ice and frozen pot.

Another World

I'm in Reno, Nevada, for a few days for a conference. (And no, I'm not the gambling type so the casinos don't really appeal to me. They are noisy and smoking. Ugh.) The view flying in revealed a landscape so different from what I'm used to in Minnesota. Now granted, everything was snow-covered as I left yesterday - just a light coating. But here, the land is stark. Very little green and very few trees. But there are the mountains - lots of mountains. So different - so bare and brown - but still fascinating.