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next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallows

The barn swallow is a spectacular aerial acrobat (Photo: Eugene Beckes, Creative Commons license)

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WITNESS astounding tricks of precision flying!

THRILL to the sight of daring aerial capers!

Come one, come ALL!

The FLYING CIRCUS is winging its way to a backyard near YOU!!

 

next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallowCritics are raving about this summer’s must-see event. Word to the wise, though—in addition to a lawn chair you’ll definitely want to bring some binoculars. That’s because the stars of this air show have an average wingspan of about 12 inches (30 cm). We’re not talking F/A-18 Hornets here, or even a Cessna 152. Think sparrow-sized, not Sparrowhawk.

Barn swallows (Hirundo rustica) epitomize the principle of “form follows function.” Combine a slender fuselage with long, tapered wings and a deeply forked stabilizer (aka “tail”) and you’ve got a bird made to spend the majority of waking life with wheels up. They even wear a uniform appropriate for fly-boys (and girls)—glossy chrome blue above and buff-to-rust below; similar to the colors of a U.S. Air Force Blue Angels jet.

Barn swallows are found far beyond U.S. borders, though.  You might even go so far as to call them jet setters. Six officially recognized subspecies are found in North and South America, Europe, Africa, and Asia. Generally speaking, the species breeds in the Northern Hemisphere (as far north as the Arctic Circle) and takes winter R&R in the Southern Hemisphere. Ornithologists have recorded barn swallows traveling over 7,000 miles (11,000 km) from Europe to southern Africa, and those based in the Americas cover similar distances.

next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallowWhether cruising inches above land or water or performing barrel rolls, loop-the-loops, spins, and stalls in mid-air, these agile flyers are crowd-pleasers. They aren’t grandstanding, though. A barn swallow’s life consists of more than playing with the physics of flight. Like the post-WWI stunt pilots of the 1920s, they’re trying to make a living.

It takes fuel to fly and the barn swallow go-juice of choice is winged insects—primarily high-octane flies, but also beetles, bees and wasps, next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallowmoths and butterflies, ants and termites.  Eating on the fly really comes in handy during long missions, including migration. Quenching one’s thirst, bathing, dating, and defending the home territory—they’re all done on the wing.

Historians disagree as to the origin of the term “barnstorming,” but one popular explanation is that pilots would fly through an open barn door and out the other side (they hoped) as a demonstration of their prowess and to drum up joy ride business.  Barn swallows have been known to fly in and out of barns as well—hence the common name. It’s a lot less risky for the birds, though.

Even daredevils like to have a place to call home, a chance to raise a family.  Before permanent man-made structures became commonplace, barn swallows built nests in caves or on the face of cliffs. Long tolerated by humans for reasons  both practical and aesthetic, today only one North American population holds to this tradition, in the Channel Islands off the coast of California; the rest of the fleet hangar in the rafters of open buildings or beneath porches. Bridges, especially those that span water, are particularly popular due to their proximity to crucial building materials.

next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallowGathering mud by the bill-full, mated pairs make countless supply runs to construct a neat cup or half-cup, depending on the location, then line it with grass, feathers, hair from the livestock living under the same roof, and any other soft, insulating materials they can find.

Once there’s a home base in the crosshairs, the bombardier gets the go-ahead to drop her payload of 3-7 eggs. The pair begin a series of aerial fueling attempts and in about a month’s time they’ve got themself a squadron of next-gen aviators.

Time to put on a show!

next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallow
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Barn swallows in flight:

Modern day barnstormer performing aerial acrobatics:

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love-earthThis blog, like so many activities that foster support and appreciation of the natural world, is a labor of love. If you’ve enjoyed learning about the creatures who share our built environment, consider becoming an NDN Benefactor with a donation of any amount you’re inspired to give. If you’d like to find a little Next-Door Nature surprise in your inbox just click the Subscribe!  button in the upper right-hand corner of this page and receive notifications of new posts!

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© 2012 Next-Door Nature—no reprints without written permission from the author (I’d love for you to share my work; all you have to do is ask). Thanks to these photographers for making their work available through a Creative Commons license: [from the top] Eugene Beckes (wings tucked; wings open); Julio Mulero (drinking); Dan Wilson Photography (nestlings); Eugene Beckes (swooping); Bill Lynch (muckraking); Mikael Dusenne (parenting); Pat Gaines (missile).

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next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallows

The barn swallow is a spectacular aerial acrobat (Photo: Eugene Beckes, Creative Commons license)

.

WITNESS astounding tricks of precision flying!

THRILL to the sight of daring aerial capers!

Come one, come ALL!

The Flying Circus is winging its way to a backyard near YOU!!

 

next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallowCritics are raving about this summer’s must-see event. Word to the wise, though—in addition to a lawn chair you’ll definitely want to bring some binoculars. That’s because the stars of this air show have an average wingspan of about 12 inches (30 cm). We’re not talking F/A-18 Hornets here, or even a Cessna 152. Think sparrow-sized, not Sparrowhawk.

Barn swallows (Hirundo rustica) epitomize the principle of “form follows function.” Combine a slender fuselage with long, tapered wings and a deeply forked stabilizer (aka “tail”) and you’ve got a bird made to spend the majority of waking life with wheels up. They even wear a uniform appropriate for fly-boys (and girls)—glossy chrome blue above and buff-to-rust below; similar to the colors of a U.S. Air Force Blue Angels jet.

Barn swallows are found far beyond U.S. borders, though.  You might even go so far as to call them jet setters. Six officially recognized subspecies are found in North and South America, Europe, Africa, and Asia. Generally speaking, the species breeds in the Northern Hemisphere (as far north as the Arctic Circle) and takes winter R&R in the Southern Hemisphere. Ornithologists have recorded barn swallows traveling over 7,000 miles (11,000 km) from Europe to southern Africa, and those based in the Americas cover similar distances.

next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallowWhether cruising inches above land or water or performing barrel rolls, loop-the-loops, spins, and stalls in mid-air, these agile flyers are crowd-pleasers. They aren’t grandstanding, though. A barn swallow’s life consists of more than playing with the physics of flight. Like the post-WWI stunt pilots of the 1920s, they’re trying to make a living.

It takes fuel to fly and the barn swallow go-juice of choice is winged insects—primarily high-octane flies, but also beetles, bees and wasps, next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallowmoths and butterflies, ants and termites.  Eating on the fly really comes in handy during long missions, including migration. Quenching one’s thirst, bathing, dating, and defending the home territory—they’re all done on the wing.

Historians disagree as to the origin of the term “barnstorming,” but one popular explanation is that pilots would fly through an open barn door and out the other side (they hoped) as a demonstration of their prowess and to drum up joy ride business.  Barn swallows have been known to fly in and out of barns as well—hence the common name. It’s a lot less risky for the birds, though.

Even daredevils like to have a place to call home, a chance to raise a family.  Before permanent man-made structures became commonplace, barn swallows built nests in caves or on the face of cliffs. Long tolerated by humans for reasons  both practical and aesthetic, today only one North American population holds to this tradition, in the Channel Islands off the coast of California; the rest of the fleet hangar in the rafters of open buildings or beneath porches. Bridges, especially those that span water, are particularly popular due to their proximity to crucial building materials.

next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallowGathering mud by the bill-full, mated pairs make countless supply runs to construct a neat cup or half-cup, depending on the location, then line it with grass, feathers, hair from the livestock living under the same roof, and any other soft, insulating materials they can find.

Once there’s a home base in the crosshairs, the bombardier gets the go-ahead to drop her payload of 3-7 eggs. The pair begin a series of aerial fueling attempts and in about a month’s time they’ve got themself a squadron of next-gen aviators.

Time to put on a show!

next-door nature, urban wildlife, suburban wildlife, barn swallow
.There’s nothing quite like finding a little Next-Door Nature in your email inbox—click the “subscribe”  link in the upper right-hand corner of this page and receive notifications of new posts!
© 2012 Next-Door Nature—no reprints without written permission from the author (I’d love for you to share my work; all you have to do is ask). Thanks to these photographers for making their work available through a Creative Commons license: [from the top] Eugene Beckes (wings tucked; wings open); Julio Mulero (drinking); Dan Wilson Photography (nestlings); Eugene Beckes (swooping); Bill Lynch (muckraking); Mikael Dusenne (parenting); Pat Gaines (missile).
Barn swallows in flight:
Modern day barnstormer performing aerial acrobatics:

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black-and-white warbler (Photo: Friends of Mount Auburn, Creative Commons license)

Black-and-white warblers are just one of hundreds of species and millions of individual birds currently making their way southward… and running into some major obstacles (Photo: Sandy Selesky, Creative Commons license)

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I’ve never been much for following trends and this week was no exception. I’m writing from an altitude of 10,000+ feet and, as I fly west-to-east across North America on my way home from a conference in Fort Collins, Colorado, millions of birds are winging from south-to-north along time-honored sky routes.

warbling vireo (Photo: Eric Bégin, Creative Commons license)

Warbling vireo, warbling

Spending time west of the Mississippi flyway provided me with a chance to get reacquainted with some favorite species from when I lived in New Mexico. I got a heads-up on who to look for using a great resource—the e-Bird Migration Forecast. For example, the pace of this record-breaking early return of migratory birds is expected to slow somewhat during the last gasp of March due to unfavorable winds, but Bell’s and warbling vireos (Vireo bellii and Vireo gilvus, respectively) began to arrive out West a couple of weeks ago. By the time I get back home to the southeast there’s a good chance any number of wood-warblers will already be there including one of the more easy-to-identify species, the black-and-white warbler (Mniotilta varia). e-Bird’s experts predict it shouldn’t be too long before blue-gray gnatcatchers (Polioptila caerulea) come to my neighborhood since they’ve been spotted as far north as Maryland already.

Sadly, one of the best places to see a diverse array of migratory birds is at the base of tall buildings. This is also one of the worst places because the birds you’ll find are likely to be dead or injured. Others are simply too exhausted to fly any further which makes them very vulnerable to the scavenging species who have learned that migration season in the city means food is literally falling from the sky. One expert estimates as many as 100 million birds die in collisions with buildings every year. Songbirds are particularly susceptible to this hazard.

At night, migrating birds seem to be strongly attracted to artificial light and once inside the neon and fluorescent glow they’re reluctant to return to the darkness. High-rise glass and light are a deadly combination for these travelers—those that don’t collide with the buildings fly around and around as if caught in a sci-fi tractor beam until they drop from fatigue.

blue-gray gnatcatcher (Photo: Jerry Oldenettel, Creative Commons license)

Blue-gray gnatcatcher

In some cities, bird-loving volunteers organize rescue teams who arrive before sunrise to beat gulls, free-roaming cats, raccoons, coyotes, and others to the survivors. The injured are transported to wildlife rehabilitators for care, the dead are collected and counted.  The Chicago Bird Collision Monitors have reported finding an average of 5,000 birds on the streets and sidewalks during the annual spring and fall migrations. In Toronto alone the Fatal Light Awareness Program (FLAP) has documented bird-building collisions for over 140 species.

No one wants to add to his or her birding life list this way.

Thankfully, FLAP has some simple suggestions for reducing the carnage:

  • Turn off the office lights and close the blinds when you leave at the end of the day, and ask your co-workers to do the same.
  • Talk to the building’s maintenance supervisor and cleaning staff to explain their critical role in creating a bird-friendly building.
  • If you notice dead and/or injured birds on the ground around your building, consider organizing a group of coworkers to serve as rescuers and team with wildlife rehabilitators in your area.
  • FLAP recommends keeping a supply of paper grocery bags on hand for rescues. Once a bird has been placed inside the top can be folded over and stapled shut. This does not create an air-tight seal so there’s no need to poke air holes in the bag, and the darkness inside the bag will help calm the bird so it doesn’t injure itself further.

Before you forget, why not leave a reminder on your computer screen or near your office door? If you make it just a little harder to see migratory birds in the urban jungle you may end up making it just a little easier to continue seeing migratory birds in the future.

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Start your day with a little Next-Door Nature—click the “subscribe”  link in the upper right-hand corner of this page and receive notifications of new posts!
© 2012 Next-Door Nature—no reprints without written permission from the author (I’d love for you to share my work. Just ask.). Thanks to these photographers for making their work available through a Creative Commons license: Sandy Selesky, Friends of Mount Auburn (black-and-white warbler); Eric Bégin (warbling vireo);   Jerry Oldenettel (blue-gray gnatcatcher); and Joe Penniston (downtown Chicago at night).

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Cedar waxwing (Photo: Eve Fraser-Corp, Creative Commons license)

By the end of winter, the fruit upon which cedar waxwings depend can pack a real punch (Photo: Eve Fraser-Corp, Creative Commons license)

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I recently came across a report that cedar waxwings (Bombycilla cedrorum) have returned to Texas. Every time I hear someone mention this species I’m reminded of  my days as director of a wildlife center in Houston. For a few weeks every year the waxwings would show up by the cardboard box-full and the rehabilitation clinic would turn into… well, a different kind of rehab center.

With their handsome, distinctive plumage, even a newbie birder can easily recognize this species. Their yellow tail- and red wing-tips look as if they’ve been dipped in sealing wax—thus the name. With a range that covers much of North America, waxwings aren’t rare but they’re not as common as some of our iconic backyard birds, so it’s always a bit of a thrill when they’re in the neighborhood.

Cedar waxwing and chick (Photo: Alan Huett, Creative Commons license)They’re one of only a handful of avian species in the U.S. and Canada whose diet is composed largely (but not entirely) of fruit, a useful characteristic when one shares a breeding territory with brown-headed cowbirds (Molothrus ater) and other nesting parasites—females who don’t bother to build a nest of their own. Instead, they leave their eggs in the nests of other birds and the cowbird chicks are cared for like biological children. In fact, the foster nestling normally out-competes the surrogate’s own offspring when food is being passed out but the high-sugar diet provided by waxwing parents, while perfect for their own kids, causes the cowbird to waste away.

Waxwing adaptability has allowed them to benefit from the introduction of non-native fruit-bearing plants used in urban and suburban landscaping. For example, they seem to love honeysuckle… and it shows. The red pigment in the exotic vine’s berries can turn the bird’s canary tail-tips bright orange, a plumage change birders and ornithologists first began to notice in the 1960s.

Waxwing flock on pyracantha (Photo: Bob Muller, Creative Commons license)Waxwings travel in flocks that may include 40+ individuals, all searching for pyracantha and privet, choke cherries, mulberries, and any other tree or shrub that bears sugary fruit. Once they’ve gobbled up every last berry, they move along without a backward glance.

Unless the fruit is spiked.

It’s not a matter of someone trying to contribute to avian delinquency. From late autumn until plants have produced new spring and summer crops, last season’s berries, drupes, drupelets, pomes, and other sweet seed containers hang on, growing inceasingly less… fresh, shall we say. Temperature fluctuations and the presence of wild yeasts often will cause fruit to ferment in situ. Migration and colder temperatures make for voracious birds and the waxwings are carbo-loading as fast as they can swallow. They don’t seem to notice some of the snacks pack a punch. When you weigh slightly more than an ounce, the alcohol content doesn’t have to be very high to knock you for a loop. Next thing you know, birds are careening around on the front lawn like New Year’s Eve.

Injured waxwing (Photo: Churl Han, Creative Commons license)It can look rather comical but it’s no laughing matter. Many inebriated birds are seriously injured or are killed when they fly into cars and windows.

Good Samaritans across the county scoop disoriented birds into cardboard boxes and head for the nearest wildlife rehabilitation center. There, the birds are given a head-to-toe, beak-to-tail examination. Most of the patients are simply allowed to safely sleep it off in a warm, dark room before being released to continue their travels… although they probably set out with a doozy of a headache.


Start your day with a little Next-Door Nature—click the “subscribe”  link in the upper right-hand corner of this page and receive notifications of new posts!
© 2012 Next-Door Nature—no reprints without written permission from the author (I’d love for you to share my work; all you have to do is ask). Thanks to name for making their work available through a Creative Commons license: Eve Fraser-Corp (waxwing with wizened berry); Eve Fraser-Corp (waxwing with wizened berry); Alan Huett (waxwing adult and nestling);  Bob Muller (waxwings on pyracantha)’ and Churl Han (injured waxwing).

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snowy owls (Photo: winnu, Creative Commons license)

Record numbers of snowy owls have ventured south this winter, creating a not-often-in-a-lifetime opportunity for bird-lovers in Canada and parts of the U.S. (Photo: winnu, Creative Commons license)

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Sometimes you just need a change of scenery.

Most years, snowy owls (Bubo scandiacus*) are homebodies, satisfied to stay put in the sweeping, flat, treeless tundra, even as calendar pages flip past the holidays and into a new tax season.  Most of their snowbird neighbors take off each winter to visit second homes in warmer latitudes, but snowy owls prefer staycations. What’s not to like? The mosquitoes, midges, and biting flies disappeared with the first snow. You’ve got the place all to yourself so there’s less competition for a table at the best places to eat and hang out. Not to mention, traveling can be such a headache these days—choosing your route, navigating national borders, weather delays. By the time you reach your destination you’re more exhausted than when you left!

And yet…

snowy owl in flight by pat gaines cc

… every now and then there comes a year when the snowies watch with those enormous cadmium-yellow eyes as everyone else heads for the flyways, and beneath that placid, nearly expressionless exterior, wanderlust begins to stretch its wings… then flutter… flap… and soar.  Big Pharma claims to have the prescription for cabin fever (aka, seasonal affective disorder, the winter blues, February funk), but it’s a lot more fun to head south in search of adventure, and some landscape variation definitely provides relief.

Let’s not forget, the opportunity to try some new regional cuisine alone must be a huge tourism draw when you’ve been eating lemmings, day in, day out. I mean, just because everyone else is happy dining from the same menu all year long doesn’t mean you have to run with the crowd… right over the cliff. So to speak. Not when there’s bacalhoada in Baltimore, sushi in Seattle, oie rôtie in Quebec,  fagiano alla contadina on The Hill in St. Louis (my own hometown), hasenpfeffer in Philadelphia… the possibilities are vast as the Arctic landscape.

Whatever the reason, the travel bug spread through the snowy owl population this year like a flu epidemic. Thousands of these large, unmistakable owls have been observed from coast to coast in the U.S., and as far south as Oklahoma, delighting bird fans who never dreamed of adding this species to their lifelist.

snowy owl on a telephone pole (Photo: Todd Radenbaugh, Creative Commons license)If a snowy owl visits your town, word will likely spread fast. Weighing in at 3.5—6.5 lbs (1.6—2.9 kg), 2 ft (0.6 m) tall with a wingspan of about 5 ft (1.5 m), this heavy, northernmost North American owl is instantly recognizable and easy to spot. For one thing, it’s diurnal, meaning active during the day (most, but not all, other owls are nocturnal or active at night). Secondly, snowies aren’t shy and retiring, preferring to spend most of their time on a prominent lookout, waiting patiently for their next meal to make a move. Of course, if the surrounding countryside is covered in a blanket of white, they aren’t as conspicuous as when the ground is bare. That’s because snowy owls are a charcoal sketch on a clean, gessoed canvas—their eyes are the only deviation from grayscale. Even their legs and feet are feather-covered, not yellow or orange as is the case for many other avian species.

snowy owlet (Photo: Steve Brace, Creative Commons license)Snowy owlets begin life resembling human toddlers packed into warm down snowsuits, and they’re just as wobbly. As they develop, a heavy mantle of barred dark gray, taupe, and white feathers emerge. Females retain some of this dark scalloping even as they mature. Males, on the other hand, grow lighter with each molt until, while stoically seated, they resemble a snowman (not the three-perfect-spheres kind you see in cartoons and moviesthe fireplug-shaped ones made by real kids). Their demeanor changes dramatically when they take flight, however, from cuddly stuffed animal to sleek, efficient hunter.  Silent, too. Their primaries—flight feathers along the outer edge of a bird’s wing—look as if my hairstylist sister had textured the edge with her razor, so they don’t slice through the air with the same sharp-edged, audible signature of a hawk or eagle.owl vs hawk feathers

The 2011 breeding season produced a bumper lemming crop and, subsequently, larger owl clutch sizes and owlet survival rates. Biologists suspect this may explain why so many of these normally non-migratory birds have hit the road.  The Owl Research Institute  says the irruption (a sudden, unpredictable mass migration) of 2011-2012 is “unbelievable” and “the most significant wildlife event in decades.”

During my undergraduate days I did an internship at the World Bird Sanctuary, where I had a chance to work with snowy owls and other birds of prey. Sadly, I don’t expect to see any snowies myself this year unless I travel back home to Missouri in the next month or so. I live too far south now, even during an irruption of epic proportions, for snowy owls to darken my door. But if you live or travel in North America anywhere above the Mason-Dixon line (that’s the 39th parallel north for all you non-Southerners), keep your eyes peeled for snowmen perched on telephone poles.

Seeing is believing.

[Want to know if snowy owls are spending the winter near you? Check out this range map from eBird.]

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* The International Ornithological Union (IOU) once considered snowy owls the only member of a unique genus, Nyctea scandiaca, but DNA analysis, published in 2002, revealed they are closely related to the great horned owl and other members of the Bubo clan, so their official name was changed.

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Start your day with a little Next-Door Nature—click the “subscribe”  link in the upper right-hand corner of this page and receive notifications of new posts!
© 2012 Next-Door Nature—no reprints without written permission from the author (I’d love for you to share my work; all you have to do is ask). Thanks to these photographers for making their work available through a Creative Commons license: winnu (identical owls); Pat Gaines (owl in flight); Todd Radenbaugh (owl on telephone pole); Steve Brace (snowy owlet);  BastienM (long-eared owl  feather, public domain); and David DeHetre (hawk feather).

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killdeer display

If birds were eligible to receive the Oscar, killdeer would be nominated as often as Meryl Streep (Photo: Glenn Loos-Austin, Creative Commons license)

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All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. An astute observation by the Bard, but a bit misleading. Had Will but ventured beyond the Globe Theater’s door he may have realized that humans aren’t the only animals who have acting chops.

I’m not talking about critters who pose in front of a movie or television camera while their personal trainer feeds them lines. And treats. Mercenaries all, and nothing but. One need search no further than yonder killdeer (Charadrius vociferous) to see an authentic actor working tirelessly at his or her craft. Never for money, always for love.

Not love of acting. It’s familial love that drives a bird to risk life, limb, and bad reviews. At least, that’s what we would call it were it displayed by a human parent. Scientists are wary of applying emotional terms to the behavior of anyone other than Homo sapiens, though, and those who are careless enough to try should expect to be on the receiving end of a harsh accusation from their colleagues: Anthropomorphism! The attribution of human characteristics and behavior to non-humans, and the biological community’s version of a Scarlet Letter. As a member of that cohort, rather than open myself up to criticism I’ll simply tell the story and you can decide for yourself.

First let’s set the stage. It could be a beach, mudflat, or sandbar—killdeer are technically shorebirds, after all.  But you’ll also find touring companies far from an oceanfront theater; at a parking lot, a flat gravel rooftop, soccer field, or golf course near you.

The entire cast—male and female alike—wears the same easily recognizable costume: bronze back, wings, and crown; not one but two black cravats at the throat; and a white belly, neck, and forehead. Orange eyeliner completes the look.  At 8–11” tall, the killdeer is lanky compared to other plovers. You might think height, combined with a dramatic ensemble, would make for a powerful stage presence. Oddly enough, the players can be rather difficult to spot against the usual green or sandy-brown scenery.

Act I: The curtain opens on our newly paired hero and heroine searching for the perfect place to build a home and raise a family. No McMansion for this down-to-earth couple—the acting life is a squatter’s life. Find a bit of open space with a decent view, move in, and call it your own. Carve a shallow depression in the grass or gravel with your feet, put all your speckled buff-colored eggs (4–6) in one basket… and then watch that basket!

Act II:  It’s 3–4 weeks later and the next generation of killdeer Barrymores or Redgraves burst onto the scene. Wearing a velvety version of their parents apparel, these youngsters are precocial in the truest sense of the word—they can’t fly but they’re bright eyed and ready to hit the boards running as soon as their down is dry.  It will take 20–30 days before they are able to strike out on their own… and it will be a perilous month indeed!

Act III:  Enter the villain… bwa ha ha ha! [This is where you, as an audience member, should feel free to boo and hiss].  S/he may appear as a seagull, a falcon, a fox, an ATV, or a beachcomber. Further from shore the scoundrel might be dressed as a crow, a coyote, a cow, a dog or cat, a child, or a car.

Gasp! Who will save the children?!

No matter the size or form, or whether the threat is a tooth-filled maw, a flip-flop clad foot, or a steel-belted Firestone, without a moment’s hesitation or any consideration of personal safety, our fearless, feathered leading man or lady springs into action. Hurray!

Okay… that’s not technically accurate, but “flops into action” doesn’t have quite the same dramatic punch, now does it?

killdeerHere’s what really happens. When something threatens the eggs or hatchlings, the adult birds will act as if suddenly stricken with some crippling illness or injury. Barely able to walk and dragging one or both wings, the parent will attempt to lead the evil-doer away from the kiddos.  Choose to follow and there’ll be some true scenery chewing. The real or perceived predator will be allowed to get closer… closer… nearly close enough to touch… but calling on one last drop of adrenaline, the bird flutters… stumbles…  lurches…  just… a bit… further…

Once the offspring are safe, a miraculous cure takes place instantaneously! Wings unfurl, there’s a flourish of feathers, and our hero/heroine is circling high above a startled stalker. The crowd goes WILD!!

What motivates such a performance—love, instinct, or brain chemistry? The critics are still out on this one.

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© 2011 Next-Door Nature— no reprints without written permission from the author. Thanks to Winnu for making the photo of a killdeer taking flight available through a Creative Commons license.

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red-breasted nuthatch

Red-breasted nuthatch (Photo: P. Bonenfant, Creative Commons license)

Have you ever dreamed of being a scientist? How would you like to have something in common with Gregor Mendel (genetics), Henrietta Swan Leavitt (astronomy), and Reginald Hooley (paleontology)—citizen scientists all. Now’s your chance. The annual Great Backyard Bird Count runs from February 18-21, and there’s still time to sign up and do your part!

According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, a GBBC organizer, your count can help answer some important questions, including:

  • How has this winter’s snow and cold temperatures influenced bird populations?
  • How does the timing of birds’ migrations compare with past years?
  • How are bird diseases, such as West Nile virus, affecting birds in different regions?
  • Are there any observable changes in bird diversity from previous years?
  • Are there any differences in bird diversity in cities versus suburban, rural, and natural areas?

It doesn’t matter whether you report 5 species that visit your backyard feeder or 50 species you see on a trip to a wildlife refuge. Every bird counts—but only if you count it.

Fly on over to the GBBC website and make sure the birds in your community are represented.  John J. Audubon would be so proud.

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