Prairie Perfection and a Neo-tropical Cormorant

Tiger swallowtail on prairie blazing star (Tim Wallace)

Late July through mid-August is usually a slow period for birding around here. At the later end of the period, a few warblers begin trickling through and of course there are shorebirds, but no one has found any really good habitat nearby. One spot, a detention basin in Will County, drew a little variety but the day that Josh Engel and I went out to look, water and lightening descended from the skies in copious amounts. No more shore bird habitat, and then after some time, the site dried out: such places are designed to hold surplus water for but a short time.

But there are the prairies- Markham is at its most glorious this time of year. I made three visits to ensure I hit the peak.  And twice, we headed to the Calumet region, that matrix of marsh that has been attracting seekers of birds since the days that the Pottawatomi held dominion over the territory.

The first trip to Markham this year was with Gary Hantsbarger and Tim Wallace. The first unusual sighting was a homeless man who emerged from the grass in the distance. He ambled off but when we eventually reached where he had been we saw the flattened vegetation where he sleeps. It was like a deer bed. Social problems of the human world intrude upon the serenity of a 10,000 year old prairie. All things considered, it is surprising that Markham’s natural oasis doesn’t draw even more wandering sleepers- a pretty thought though not likely true is that somehow even the uniformed recognize in some inchoate way that damaging such a lovely place amounts to a desecration that should be avoided, at least as long as other options exist.

The prairie blazing stars were in nearly full bloom on that first trip. The following week some were already in quiescent but the marsh blazing stars were starting up. In rare years, there is an ever so brief period when they both are in high color tinting large sections of the prairie cerulean. Inlaid amidst the emerald grasses and lapus-like Liatris are cabochons of gold, stands of the deep-rooted sylphium- prairie dock and compass plant- and cone flowers.  Growing not as tall, partridge pea contributed more yellow. Wild quinine and rattlesnake master add texture and paler shades of white and green. We night have been too early in the day for the regal and Aphrodite fritillaries but the eyed browns, viceroys (the first I had seen this season), and two kinds of swallow-tails flitted from one clump of color to another.    By are third visit, much of the color had muted but the goldenrods stood their ground, for it was their turn to bask in the sun.

Sedge wrens and common yellowthroats were everywhere. And on the first visit, we saw two or three groups of red-headed woodpeckers totaling seven birds. There are trees on the periphery and this open aspect is what they like. On two of the trips we left Markham to focus more on birds by visiting the Lake Calumet region, Shorebirds at the regular spots were zilch, but for most of the summer one and or two neotropical cormorants would spend most of the day basking at Burnham Prairie, one of the best natural areas in the Calumet area. Sure enough, on both are visits, there was an adult, dwarfed by the nearby double-cresteds. It is only a few miles from Indiana, but until this summer, that state had never recorded a neotropical. I wonder if the Burnham adult ever leaves, but an unsuccessful try was posted on the local birders listserve, so I know the bird is ambulatory.

The third trip I made was with Angelo Caparella, a biologist who teaches at Illinois State University. He and his wife Gretchen Knapp have become dear friends. Years ago Franklin’s ground squirrels were introduced into Markham but as far as I know they are no longer present. Angleo was telling me about a study that is going on in near Springfield, IL which has revealed that these rare prairie mammals can survive in surprising places and are extremely difficult to locate. What they need is well drained areas like railroad berms or borrow piles. He is finds them in areas where no one has previously thought they were. So maybe they still inhabit Markham- a thought good for morale.

Adult and immature neo-tropical cormorants at Burnham Prairie (Photo by Walter Marcisz)

Red meadowhawk at Markham Prairie (Tim Wallace)

Prairie balzing star and goldenrod (sp?) at Markham Prairie (Tim Wallace)

Red-headed woodpecker at Markham Prairie (Tim Wallace)

          

The Avian King of Prairie Island (Photo by John Cassady)

The mother of all rivers remained bloated on our second round of Prairie Island bird surveys. In between our trips this year, the Mississippi began to recede but then began to rise. Overall  whatever differences existed were not all that noticeable. We again finished the work in three days.

This is the first time since we have been doing these surveys that there was no mayfly emergence during our late June visit. The masses of lacy winged insects erupting into flight from their perches are a lovely sight. We have watched various species of birds avail themselves to the short-lived bounty. But this year nada. Our failure to see them was hopefully a function of delay rather than total absence. The larvae inhabit the backwater substrates so it is possible that extensive flooding fosters extensive mortality. On a more practical level, I feared the appearance of another group of insects. The extensive areas of inundated land are perfect habitat for Aedes, the vexatious bloodsuckers we call mosquitoes. I came prepared though just in case. It is one thing to be walking swiftly through their clouds but another to have stand in place for five minutes and try to ignore them as you concentrate on avian sounds. They proved problematic in only a few wooded spots on the mainland.

Again, as last year, the most significant species that we found is probably the loggerhead shrikes. The pair returned to the same section to nest in a cedar near the railroad tracks. Also of great interested was the presence of another shrike nearby. This is a bird likely observed by Gabe Miller in the spring. It is possible that it is one of the fledged young raised on the property last year.

One highlight of the visit were the two yellow-throated vireos that cavorted in the woods fringing one of the islands. We sat in the boat as the pair chased each other and fed. This time of year, most the yellow-throated vireos are nothing more than voices emanting from the canopy so to see them so well was a real treat.

The islands remain a unique habitat. They support almost all of the property’s populations of bald eagles, prothonotary warblers, and cerulean warblers, all species of state concern. The nature of these islands is determined mostly by the vagaries of the river, and thus there is probably little that can be improved through anthropogenic management. As suggested in last year’s report, it might be worth looking into the feasibility of erecting heron structures. An initial and inexpensive step would be to visit one or two existing heron colonies in similar circumstances. And if they can tolerate the bald eagles, ospreys would be a nice addition if they could be enticed with nesting structures. This technique works well even in places like the Chicago region where conditions would otherwise not be as favorable as the Prairie Island property (of course there are many fewer bald eagles in northern Illinois).

Based on the number of points where they occurred, the yellow warbler is hands down the most widely distributed species on the property. They were heard and or seen at 53 out of the total 72 points. The next most widespread species are American robin (45 points), song sparrow (40), warbling vireo (39), common yellowthroat (37), brown-headed cowbird (36), Baltimore oriole (34), house wren (34), and American redstart (33). The three points with the highest total number of species each had 17.

Bloggerl in full anti-mosquito garb. Always wise to dress for the occasion. (Photo by Gabe Miller)

          

Our newest family member under wraps

Having finally tired of our imaginary children, Cindy and I have become the proud owners of Heinrich  (name subject to change). Here he is being prepared for his trip from Franklin, Louisiana to our home in Westmont, Illinois. Isn’t he beautiful?

          

Summer in the Marsh

This year’s Wadsworth breeding surveys were cut from six to four. There was ample water at each of the primary sites and no major storm that caused a sudden increase. I was expecting a surfeit of mosquitoes but except for one or two visits to the wooded portions they were not too bad.

Recall that in the last spring visit, in early May, Tim Wallace and I found a common gallinule (bye bye moorhen) at one section where they had never been seen before. I failed to find it on the spring bird count but I relied on trying to rouse it by my physical proximately rather than the potentially more efficacious use of a recording. So on one of the four trips this year, we covered gallinule area at five in the morning and, accompanied by Tim and Josh Engel, played a variety of marsh bird recordings. In response to the gallinule, we heard an ambiguous grunt just once- but never again that day not subsequent ones. I think it may well have been the object of our search but the brief noise did not allow a positive identification. Far more satisfying was the call of a sora, a bird we never get during the breeding season. My view is that they stop vocalizing much by the end of May. But there it was- a one time whinny but enough.

This is the Least Bittern by Paul Massey

The last couple of years pied-billed grebes nested in one of the big ponds. But after three visits without encountering any, there seemed little hope. Least bittern is one of the most curious of the rare species that shows up on the survey: what strikes me as odd is that we never have more than one nor see it more than one visit. Are these  non-breeding wanderers or do they just elude us most of the time? The question seemed moot for by that fourth visit we still had not recorded it. But Andy Sigler, a master of the I-pod, played the bittern recording and a bird took up and flew from one pond to another. Then I spotted an odd bird perched on a cattail and could not see it well through to identify it in the subdued light of early dawn. Andy called it our second least bittern:  with that proclamation it took off to confirm the identification and presumably join its slightly less patient comrade/consort/platonic friend/marsh mate/ or partner (I would hate to presume). Thrilled with those developments Andy began playing the pied billed grebe’s “gwaooo” and mirable dictu the same notes began emanating from the marsh. So in one brief period what was in line for a very modest breeding season suddenly became one of the best since I have been conducting the surveys.

Here's a Sandhill Crane Chick by Tim Wallace.

One other success deserves mention.  Back in April I discovered a pair of sandhill cranes nesting. They had laid two eggs but flooding threatened their efforts. The water was literally lapping at the edge of the nest but the adults persevered continuing to brood until early May when we saw the two foraging neat the nest location. But we could not see any colts. When the breeding bird surveys began, Jerry Curran, the site manager, said they had seen two adults and a young at the wetland just to the south. Assuming it was the same family group, they must have hiked through a quarter of mile of woods to get from one open area to the other. That would have been quite a sight, seeing the two adults carefully leading the baby as they made their way over logs and through brush. But I had not yet seen them yet. But on the third visit, when we hit the specific marsh first thing in the morning, we observed the happy family. I felt like a proud uncle.

          

Dickcissel photographed by John Cassady.

This was the third year Andy Sigler and I headed north to do bird surveys for the Prairie Island Indian Community near Redwing, Minnesota. Gabe Miller, the biologist we would be working with, warned us that there might be a problem: water. Lots of water. Although most publicity regarding the swollen Mississippi pertained to areas far downstream, significant portions of our survey area were inundated, particularly the fifteen or so points that are on islands in the river.

As I have indicated here before, I have no problem wading waste deep into water. Indeed, the last time I wore a full body condom (waders) was in 1986 when I was participating in the burning of a marsh as part of my job with the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission. The fire crossed the firebreak of crushed cattails and we had to run. With my waders and water tank on my back, I fell as the flames reached close enough to make the air too hot to breathe comfortably. Hence, I prefer getting wet.

 But most of the wading I do now is at Wadsworth, a site I know well. And even there I have to proceed cautiously in wooded areas so as not to trip on a submerged log. Add to that the fact that if I did get soaked I would be in a motel with limited clothes. I decided to take the plunge, as it were, and donned the waders. As Gabe pointed out, they have improved over the decades and they are of lighter material. I actually liked it.

A number of areas on the mainland could not be reached by car or ORV so we had to slog through the water. Thus we covered less ground than usual. But on the island we were able to access points by boat that previously required walking. Some spots were totally underwater so there was no option but conducting the survey from the boat. Where as the island usually takes us a day (morning) , we finished it in half the time thus allowing us to do another whole territory. Rather than needing four mornings, we completed our work in three.

The grasslands produced their usual compliment of species, including clay-colored, grasshopper, savanna, and vesper sparrows, as well as dickcissels and bobolink. Most encouraging, the loggerhead shrike pair returned. There are only a handful of breeding shrikes in the entire state so this was exciting. We were concerned because the area where the tribe’s bison herd is kept is scheduled to be moved to the prairie where the shrikes reside. The presence of the large herbivores could increase the rodents and insect upon which the shrikes feed but it could also prove harmful to the woody vegetation that the birds use for perches.

The bison currently roam in a lovely savanna like area on the river. It is so pretty that the tribe decided to move the big mammals and build houses. Not only does this pose potential issues to the shrikes, but the savanna is home to the only red-headed woodpeckers on the property. It also the best place for lark sparrows.

On the islands, almost all avian sounds disappear under the drowning cacophony of house wrens, redstarts, and yellow warblers. During a lull in the ambient drone, Andy picked out the fee-be-oh of a migrant alder flycatcher. We also found three ceruleans, and indeed this where we usually encounter them. But although these wooded islands also tend to yield the highest number of prothonotaries, the species was absent this year. Maybe the flooding affected the forage base. The two we did find were on the mainland in a section where we have not had it before- but then those points are usually too dry for this riparian species. So it would seem that the flooding giveth habitat and taketh habitat away all at the same time.

Those aren't herons: its Andy and the blogger wading around. (Photo by Gabe Miller)

Gabe on barely an island.

We were warned that one of the bulls was highly aggressive. Fortunately not this one: here he is reporting that he just heard the distant song of a vesper sparrow. (Photo by Gabe Miller)

Half of the loggerhead shrike pair that is nesting at Prairie Island this year. This is one of the few breeding pairs left in MN. (Photo by Gabe Miller)

          

Agonal American redstart on a cold day at Montrose, May 2011.

No matter what else is going on in your so called life, if you aren’t out birding in mid May you need to undergo a serious reevaluation of priorities. I did not get out as often as I sometimes do, but I did manage to see most of the warblers that move through the Chicago region. My biggest miss was a black-throated blue, a species that has not eluded me for many years.

The Chicago lakefront, particularly Montrose on the north side, is one of my absolute favorites spring birding sites. The vegetation is low (no warbler neck), the potential variety of birds is remarkable, and there are usually loads of birders from whom you can elicit all the information you need to maximize your efforts. These small migrant traps are affected greatly by weather: west winds push the birds agains the lake. But this time of year the birding is bound to yield some treasure or other under most any meteorological conditions.

It seemed like a no brainer for Cindy and me to head out to Montrose on the morning of May 14. Josh Engle, having just returned from six weeks of leading bird tours in India and Bhutan (someone has to- otherwise who would protect uninitiated birders from noshing tigers), was going to meet us. We arrived early in our winter gear for the predictions were of cold and wind. Indeed. Chilled air blasting out of the northeast pummeled us, sweeping clean most everything in front of it.  Arriving before Josh, Cindy quickly spotted half the warblers we were to see: a mostly decapitated yellow-throat. Sauntering down to the beach, we were  met by wind that wasn’t only fast and cold but armed with tiny particles of sand. Our faces stung and any attempt at speech resulted in a mouthful of grit. Not surprisingly, both birds and birders were largely absent.

But we did encounter Bob Hughes and Tom Kelly, two of my favorites whom I rarely meet anywhere else. Shortly, thereafter Josh joined us. Everyone agreed that if there was birding to be had, it would be inland. As we walked back to the car, along the line of short trees known as the Magic Hedge, the second warbler appeared. It was an agonal American redstart. The poor bird ran around our feet, perhaps seeking refuge. Adding to its difficulties, the struggling warbler soon discovered that its chosen shelters were mobile and lacked the hours of patience of say a shrub. Enough energy remained, however, for it to hop off a short ways and elude our attempts at capture. I did manage to photograph it with my little point and shoot, and not wishing to exhaust it any further, we left the bird to its fate.

Four of us headed straight to La Beau Woods, a Cook County Forest Preserve District property on the North Branch of the Chicago River. Josh peeled off to pick up Lizzie Condon and met us. The woods is low and wet, and birds can forage without being buffeted by the wind. Large stands of Virginia bluebells add color to the understory. A blue-winged warbler sung and Josh and Tom found it for the rest of us. The highlight though was a female hooded warbler feeding low along a side stream. The white corners of her tail flashed and she exhibited the traces of a hood.

 Lizzie Condon, Cindy Kerchmar, Josh Engel, Tom Kelly, and Bob Hughes enjoying spring birding in La Beau Woods. Hey, half the group were not even wearing gloves.

          

Osprey nesting at Palos (Carolyn Fields)

Carolyn Fields and I had not seen each other for well over a year and she had never really explored the Palos region. We decided to focus on McLaury Springs, McGinnis Slough (besides a few lingering gadwall not much else of note), and a few other miscellaneous places. A perfect outing in the making. Palos is 15,000 acres of moraines, woods, lakes, and marshes. To have such a large chunk of protected land in the country’s second most populous county is a testament to the forethought of a small group of people in the early twentieth century. If everything else were equal, I doubt such a plan would gain much traction today.

It has been said that no where else in the world are there four artificial or straightened waterways in such close proximity. Thye Illinois and Michigan Canal, completed in 1848, runs through it, as do the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal and the Cal Sag Channel, engineering marvels of the early 1900s. The Des Plaines River, in a channel carved as the last glacier melted, was straightened through this section during the construction of the Sanitary and Ship Canal. Along one of these  streams, there is a lovely point of land which is often quite productive for birds. Periodically we heard this odd sound that we concluded had to be mechanical. As we walked back to the car, and getting a different angle, we saw that the noise was indeed from a living creature: an osprey on the nest. She obviously did not like our presence, but we relished hers. Ospreys have been nesting in the Palos area for a number of years now and I eagerly await the first bald eagle to have a try. Meanwhile, I appreciate this large fish-eating raptor that continues to thrive here.

McLaury Springs Forest Preserve boasts a bubbling stream, a steep morainal face, mixed woods, and a healthy display of wildflowers. It is the best place in northeastern Illinois for Louisiana waterthrushes though I rarely see them here. One began singing actively and after a few minutes worked its way down the stream so that we could see him well. A northern also chimed in and made him self apparent. A warbler darted across the stream and I yelled mourning. I am just as likely to be wrong when I make these snap calls, but this time Carolyn obtained a great view of this dark hooded beauty.

The Connecticut warbler enjoys a special status among local birders. It is a bird with limited nesting and migration range that avoids being anywhere near either coast. The best time to find them around here in the spring is the third and fourth weeks of May, a smaller window than many other warblers. And it is a skulker, often preferring heavy vegetation. Most of the ones I see are in the lakefront parks where hiding places are limited. Carolyn heard one singing and managed to coax it out with her I-pod. He sat on a low open branch and sang quite nicely. By days end we had 17 warbler species.

 But it wasn’t just warblers. An Acadian flycatcher sang repeatedly from the depths of the forest. Of more personal significance to me was the pileated woodpecker. I had never seen one before in Cook County. Palos now harbors a small population but no component of that group has deigned to cross my path. When one called, and then appeared briefly the day would have been made anyway. But Carolyn played her I-pod and the bird looped right by us, apparently being satisfied with its brief glimpse that we were of no interest.

Blogger at McGinnis Slough (Carolyn Fields)

          

Killdeer sitting on nest at Wadsworth (photo by Jeff van den Scott)

Lisa-Jo, blogger, and killdeer nest at Wadsworth (photo by Jeff van den Scott)

I visited Wadsworth nine times this spring. Although there were days of mild temperatures I seemed to select the cold ones. Several outings in mid-April were so chilly the chorus frogs did not begin singing until noon, about the same time I took off my gloves. The wind and low temperatures also kept me from plunging into waist deep water which I used to do without thinking. Also, if you are wearing long-johns to protect from the ambient air, the prospects of wearing sopping wet long underwear in that same air is a nasty exercise.

On my first visit I saw two randy mink. They were chasing each other on the banks of Mill Creek, a major tributary that enters the Des Plaines River on the site. One headed into the water only to be followed by the other; a few seconds later they emerged on the other side. For whatever reason, I had not seen mink for a while.

Fast forward to the second to last visit. I was with Jeff and Lisa-Jo van den Scott, two graduate students at Northwestern. (She is a sociologist and he a musicologist). There was a muddy flat with a killdeer running just in front of us. The bird was not feigning injury to lure us away as they usually do. Then, in the one bit of gravel on the otherwise dark soil, she plopped down. She kept her ground until we approached within a few feet and she walked off revealing four eggs.

On the very last visit Tim Wallace and I spied one of the rarer birds we have come across at Wadsworth. On a backwater of the Des Plaines, a common moorhen foraged in cattails. The species used to nest on the property but not in that marsh and it has been years since one was last seen. It is virtually gone from Lake County. I so wanted to see it the following week on the spring bird count, but alas I never did, despite wading through the area it had been. Andy Sigler admonished me for not having tried to tape it out. He said they can sit tight and won’t flush even if you get right on them.

The most interesting ongoing drama involved the sandhill crane pair that may have nested. Area 5 is a long marsh area stretching north and south.  On March 27, I was approaching the northwest corner when a crane fluttered out of the tall vegetation. He was squawking loudly and came closer than a bird would ordinarily approach. A second bird became visible in the grass but she hung back, relying on the bluster of the male. (Distinguishing the birds by gender makes this easier to write and seems to make sense but Lizzie Condon who later saw the birds as well, and has worked extensively with cranes, said that the aggressive individual could just as easily have been the female.) I retreated as I did not want to bother them anymore.

The nest visit yielded but a single crane. But this bird was on a nest and as she stood up, I could see two eggs. A week or so later, we were deluged with rain and I was concerned that the nest might have become inundated. Indeed, Area 5 held a great deal more water and I became increasingly pessimistic. When a great-blue heron flushed from where I thought the nest was,  I became convinced that the cranes had failed. Why would the adult crane tolerate an omnivore like a great-blue hanging so close? But amazingly, the crane was still on the nest, as water lapped at its edges. More rain descended and when I returned, this time with  Lisa-Jo and Jeff, we gave the nest area a wide berth but found a nearby berm from where we could see the patient parent continue to brood. The final visit of the spring (May 1) revealed both adults, which I had not seen since back in March. We never saw any babies but they could have been around. I guess I will know when I start the breeding bird surveys.

Sandhill crane sitting on eggs at Wadsworth (Jeff van den Scott)

          

Trout Park, Illinois' only wooded fen, in spring.

Marsh marigolds in Trout Park in May.

It had been a couple of years since I have visited the two fens of Elgin and even longer since I have made the pilgrimage in spring. My friend Sara Russell lives in that general vicinity so it was a great opportunity for a joint field outing in her neck of the woods. (For an introduction to fens, see my August 19, 2009 posting.)

We met at Trout Park on May 11. The place never fails to captivate me. Thick leaves of skunk cabbage outline the mineral rich springs that cascade down the steep slopes of the ravine. We were a little past prime for the marsh marigolds that flank the skunk cabbage but rather than ribbons of gold there were splotches. Sara commented on the textures and shades of green as we descended on the board walk. The white cedars that are so characteristic of the site seem to me to be getting fewer but numbers still stand, testaments to the boreal flavor of the shadowed ravines.

Sara in Trout Park.

I have yet to hit Trout Park when it was birdy but that is probably due to the infrequency with which I bird it. There were yellow-rumps, ruby-crowned kinglets, and gnatcatchers but the paucity of warblers was striking. We did encounter another birder, a young man named Matt Keating. I exchanged e-mails with him and he later told me we were the first birders he had run into in the several months that he has been birding. Further confirmation of how rare birders are at Trout Park, even in the spring. It also illustrates how many areas never host birders at all; as a people, we tend to congregate in some choice locations.

Orchard oriole courtesy of John Cassady.

Sara and I headed off to Bluff Spring Fen. The kame-dominated landscape of Bluff Spring always makes for a fun trip. The old burr oaks scattered about define the prairie fen here almost as much as the streams. A chattering in one tree proved to be an adult male orchard oriole. This is yet another species with southern affinities that is becoming increasingly common in our region. I had seen an immature male at Montrose a week before, but an adult male on what is probably breeding territory is a joy.

One of my favorite spots at Bluff Spring is on the main kame, a deposition of earth created when a gravel laden stream broke through the thinning ice sheets of the last glacier. It was here that a friend took my picture that was used for A Natural History of the Chicago Region. And it was here also that Sara and I decided to rest a while on this hot sunny day. She is the Education Coordinator of a museum, which, as far as I know, is one of only three institutions in northeastern Illinois that has a passenger pigeon: always a mark of distinction.

She was commenting on the research she has done on oaks as part of the programs she gives, and how much feeling she has for them. This immediately prompted me to launch into my favorite oak quote, a terrific combination of natural history and morbid violence. More amazingly, she was familiar with it. (These are the kind of things on which friendships are built.) In his magnificent and sprawling The Golden Bough, Sir James George Frazier tells of how deeply the ancient Germans venerated Quercus and the “ferocious” penalty that awaited any who defaced the sacred trees: “The culprit’s navel was to cut out and nailed to the part of the tree which he had peeled, and was to be driven round and round the tree till all his guts were about its trunk. . . [I]t was a life for a life, the life of a man for the life of a tree.” Ah, the good ol’ days.

Sara and the oaks of Bluff Spring Fen.