Of Missiles and Mangroves: Part III (Goin' on a Rail Hunt)

Remember all those practical jokes you heard about as a kid that sent people on "snipe hunts" into the darkening woods at twilight? Well, there really is such a thing as a snipe, and they really are nearly impossible to catch, especially with a camera! They hide in ditches and forage along the edges of tall reeds and grasses and fly up with a burst of speed, if they hear you approaching, before you even know they are there.

Well, the black rail is even more elusive, living deep within tall marshy grasses, preferring to walk or run and rarely taking flight unless you nearly step on one. And they are rare. In fact, these birds are so rarely seen, it is one of very few birds that can be checked off your life list by sound alone. The black rail is the smallest North American rail, measuring about the size of a sparrow.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

On Wednesday, Jan 26, 2011, a group of twenty-four intrepid birders headed into the restricted St. Johns National Wildlife Refuge in hopes of "hearing" a black rail. The group was led by MINWR biologist Mike Legare, who has been conducting research on the area's small population and has been instrumental in protecting the salt marsh area in which they live. We were driven into the marsh on a trailer loaded with hay bales about one hour before sunset.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
At the appointed hour (apparently, there is a 10-15 minute window during which the rails may be enticed into calling), Legare began playing his tapes. Since this was not mating season and they were not aggressively defending territory, getting a black rail to call meant getting them to express interest in what strangers might be hanging around. We wandered up, down, back and forth along a very wet path, stopping occasionally to listen, very quietly, for a rail to respond. Upon hearing a single, distant response, Mike stepped off the path and into the tall marsh grass; come on, if you like, he said, and off we went into the marsh. We stumbled along in tall, wet, grass, unable to see where we were putting our feet down (it's getting dark at this point, mind you), some people losing their balance and falling, and most of us stepping into pools of shin deep water! Were there snakes there, in that grass? Nobody asked.
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
By the time the sun sank below the horizon, we had heard a response from at least four rails in the area, watched a gray ghost (male northern harrier) hunting along the distant palmetto stands, and filled our boots and shoes with at least an inch of water. (Thanks, Mike, for getting us "cut off" from the path!)
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Back at the trailer as darkness descended, we wrung the water out of our shoes and socks and trailered back to the parking lot with the black rail added to our life lists.
 
This is a field trip you should not miss, if you ever have the opportunity. Legare says that the black rails in this area seem to be declining in numbers, despite constant monitoring and control of their habitat (which includes controlled burns designed to keep taller scrub from invading the area.) Currently, there are fewer than 20 known nesting areas for this bird in Florida and it is listed as endangered or threatened in at least five of the eleven states in which it breeds.
 
Hopefully, the national wildlife service will be able to continue monitoring and protecting habitat for all our endangered, threatened, and declining species, not just the black rail!

Of Missiles and Mangroves: Part II (Snark Infested Waters)

After leaving the lighthouse, we drove past several launch complexes on our way to the 45th Wing Space Museum, including Complex 14, where manned orbital flights began. We had some interesting lessons in the development of launchpad bunker technology, including a look at some of the earliest made of little more than sandbags piled about 15 feet high and 5-10 feet thick that were only a few hundred feet from the pad. (Ignition was hardwired and there was a limit to how far the wires could be strung.)

The Freedom 7 memorial site sits at the beginning of the approach road to Complex 14. Surrounding the abandoned pad (all that remains is a concrete pad, everything else has been "recycled" in some way) is prime scrub habitat, home to some of the families of scrub jays and dozens of gopher tortoises. Biologists on the cape take their job as guardians of endangered species seriously; during one launch, two owl nestlings were removed from a nest close to the launch pad for two nights and taken to the Maitland Center for Birds of Prey; they were safely returned to the nest after the launch, where their parents immediately took up their care and successfully fledged them.

One of the most important projects underway at several sites around the cape is the removal of the invasive Brazilian Pepper (also known as Florida holly, even though it is not a holly but is closely related to poison ivy and sumac). Along roadsides, where scrub and hammock oaks should thrive and along river edges where mangroves should be growing, the Brazilian pepper has crowded out most native species. The shrub was imported from South and Central America in the 1800s as a decorative accent tree. Two species were imported: one planted on the west coast of Florida and the other on the east. The two species did so well that they grew across the state and hybridized in the middle.

Birds love the berries and, oddly enough, gopher tortoises apparently have done well living under the stuff, as biologists are discovering dozens of tortoise dens beneath the trees as they are being removed. Unfortunately, they have a spreading growth pattern that crowds out mangroves and scrub species.

This effort to remove the peppers and reline the edges of the causeways with red mangroves is a project that could lead to improvements in eradication and control efforts accross the state. An unfortunate downside to eradication efforts is the loss of the attractive berries, which have encouraged migrating songbirds to stopover in the spring and fall. However, both the scrub and the mangroves harbor resources that support certain native species, some of which are currently threatened or endangered.

At our final stopover on the cape we met one extinct species of which nobody mourns the loss: the Snark.



 The Snark (named after Lewis Carroll's snark) was one of the first Intercontinental missiles, propelled by rocket fuel and jet engines. It was pretty much a failure, with only a handful ever being deployed after dozens were launched that flew short and fell into the ocean (hence, the idiom "snark infested waters" and the drawing of a shark's jaw on the nose of the model on display in the museum hangar.)

It's good to know that eleven threatened and endangered species are being watched over by the environmentalists of the 45th Space Wing, including loggerhead turtles, green sea turtles, leatherback turtles, scrub jays, and southeastern beach mice.

Interesting factoid: concern about the health of the Poseidon submarine turning basin led biologists to conduct a survey of marine life in the basin; they counted more than 200 hundred species living there! Yay.

Of Missiles and Mangroves: Part I (Scrub Jays and Historic Lighthouse)

Yesterday, I was privileged to tour Cape Canaveral Air Force Station with Don George, a biologist with the 45th Space Wing and one of the environmental engineers charged with protecting endangered species on the base and planning mitigation activities when an area of scrub is taken for the construction of new launch facilities. George only leads two tours per year, both of which occur during the Space Coast Birding Festival, sponsored by the Brevard Nature Alliance.

Our first stop was on a small rise a bit north of the trident basin, where George called up a family of endangered Florida scrub jays, who responded to his pishing and a handful of acorns.

As we watched the birds picking up and then burying each nut, we learned that there are 144 families of scrub jays living in this roughly 15000 acre area. One of George's missions is to keep the habitat in a condition that will support the scrub jay, which means periodic burnings, sometimes within feet of buried stores of solid rocket fuel.

Our next stop was at the Cape Canaveral Lighthouse, which was built in 1848, then rebuilt in 1868 so that it could be seen for 16 miles, rather than the original 10 miles. At that time, the port was an offshore area that was bounded on the east by a reef, not the deep water port that visitors see today. In 1894 the lighthouse was relocated about a mile and a half inland because of beach erosion. (1/2 mile of that distance has disappeared into the ocean since then.) In 1954 the light was automated, in 1993, the fresnel lens was removed and a modern optic was installed, and in 2000, ownership of the lighthouse was transferred from the Coast Guard to the U.S. Air Force (in fact, the Canaveral Light is the only lighthouse owned by the air force.)

The light went dark from 2004 until 2007, as the building was being restored. The keeper's house no longer exists, but the brick oil shed is still adjacent to the building. This is a photo of the iconic black and white light as it stands, today.

Poached!

Last summer I photographed these amazing butterfly orchids growing in the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge. Since the plants are fairly obvious to the knowledgeable observer as you drive by, I've kept an eye on them whenever I've been out there. Last time out, all that remained on the branch of the cedar tree were a handful of roots and scars in the bark. The orchids had been poached by someone who knows what wild orchids look like when they are not in bloom or by someone who had been waiting for the right moment.

Sad. Very sad.

Poaching of wild orchids has been a problem in Florida for many years; Susan Orlean wrote a book, Orchid Thief, about some infamous poachers of the ghost orchid, a very rare and hauntingly beautiful Florida wild orchid that grows only in swamps in the Everglades. (One very famous ghost orchid has been blooming along the Corkscrew Swamp boardwalk for the past few years; it's become popular with photographers and orchid enthusiasts, alike.) And in 2006, a Nancy Drew mystery covered the same topic.

The sale of wild orchids is illegal, but it's difficult to prove whether a particular specimen offered for sale was taken from the wild or grown from seed.

Maybe the person who took these orchids is just an ass who wanted to keep them all to him/herself and doesn't have an interest in propagating and selling the orchid. Whatever. I'm pissed off. This is the sort of behavior that causes access to wilderness areas to be "closed to the public."

Anyway . . . what's my point? Well, if you're reading this blog, you love nature, probably, as much as I do. Consider it your duty to keep a watchful eye on things as you hike, or bike, or walk, or meander through the wild. If you see something suspicious--someone digging through the dirt or picking flowers or ripping orchids off a tree--report it to a park ranger! Immediately.

Backyard Birding

With smoke from the Palm Bay muck fire drifting through the area all day, I decided to hang out and watch the birds in my back yard, rather than head out to the wetlands. Since I have a brand new back yard, with what could be considered a non-existant canopy and very little cover for birds, it's been difficult establishing my feeding stations as a safe place for birds to be. My only regulars have been a half dozen mourning doves and a couple of cardinals. A large flock of palm warblers drifts across the lawn several times a day, but they do not visit the feeders.

The cooing of mourning doves (Zenaida macroura) is one of my favorite sounds; however, they tend to be messy and don't like to share the feeders with other birds. Some people mistake them for pigeons, but while they are in the same family, doves are of a different species. Until the trees get bigger and other birds get comfortable using the feeders, I'll take them, anyway! They are difficult to spook, and they seem to be getting used to having Joey wander around in the yard while they are at the feeder.

Palm warblers (Dendroica palmarum) seem to be ubiquitous this winter! Hundreds live in the woods behind my house and dozens work the back yard for insects and tiny seeds all day every day. Their call is a sweet and high whistle that fills the air when they are on the move, and they don't seem to be bothered by either myself or Joey until we get within 4-5 feet.

Hopefully, these regulars will bring in some migrants when spring begins to draw near. . .

O Caracara!

The crested caracara (Caracara cheriway)
Photo taken near Geneva in Seminole County, FL in 2008



It's official! While driving along an access road to a wildlife conservation area in Brevard County yesterday, looking for a bald eagle that had been reported to be in the area, I observed a large, dark bird slowly circling a small stand of cabbage palms in a nearby pasture. Pausing the car to get a better look through the binoculars, I realized I was watching a caracara deliver a small twig to its nesting tree. This family has been nesting regularly in this area for a few years and has become very popular with birders and photographers, causing the road to be posted as a "no stopping zone" to prevent harassment of the birds in their nesting area. So, the photos you see here aren't the greatest, but they are good enough to see that at least one of the pair has been banded and the nesting material was successfully delivered. The birds did not seem to notice me; perhaps that's because there is a deep, wide canal with a border of low shrubs that runs along the road and tends to hide vehicles as they pass.

Brevard County, 10/7/10

In this first photo, you can see the twig being carried in the bird's bill; since that wing spread is at least 48", there was a good deal of crashing and thrashing as it maneuvered through the fronds and into the nest, which is located in the middle of the top of the tree. You can also see the bright white feathers that mark the tail and wing tips of the caracara, making it a lovely bird to watch in flight. The caracara is a member of the falcon family, and its flight is very similar to those usually much smaller birds: long, slow glides and steady but shallow wing flaps.

Brevard County 10/7/10

This second photo shows one of the adults (I have no idea if it's the same bird or if it is the mate) exiting the nest a few seconds later. Respecting the "no stopping zone" directive, I did not stay to watch any further activity. I suspect that this is the same individual that delivered the twig and that the mate was in the tree, fashioning the nest, but I've never seen caracaras actually building their nest before, so I don't know what the usual procedure is. Perhaps someone who reads this blog will comment on that for us. The leg bands on this bird are predominantly light blue.

In February of 2009, I observed a pair of caracaras who were raising a family on the Orlando Wetlands in a tree that was just a few hundred feet from one of the walking berms. (That family is still out there, having built this year's nest even closer to the parking lot and main buildings of the park, to the delight of a handful of photographers and birders who noticed!) Those birds were loud and showy in voicing their disapproval of people getting too close to their nesting area (the caracara, apparently, is a very quiet bird, and the loud crackling noise they make, accompanied by a backward head thrust, is an indication that they are feeling threatened):

Unbanded caracara at Orlando Wetlands Park in 2009

We had no idea that was a threatened display until it was explained to us, a few days later; we actually thought is was some sort of cool mating display . . . duh. Now you know, too. Please back off, if you see this behavior! (Threatened species status requires that people respect a primary protective zone of 985 feet from a nest. Please realize that if you are on this road, you are within that zone! If you get that display and you do not back off, you are harassing the birds and are in violation of federal law!) I do wonder if this protection includes the men who are clearing the canal . . . those machines are loud, obnoxious, and the canal is definitely within the primary protective zone!

I wish this Brevard County pair good luck in their attempt to raise another brood. 



Walking in Turkey Creek

With a chill in the air this morning, it seemed like a good time to check for migrants down in Turkey Creek Sanctuary, and I wasn't the only one thinking that way, as I encountered several birding parties as I walked.

My first encounter was not, however, with a bird, but with a blue ringed dancer (Argia sedula), one of quite a few along the trails and boardwalks. Both males and females are in abundance. This little guy is only and inch and a half long, so I didn't realize what amazing blue eyes he had until I enlarged the frame on the computer . . . gorgeous, eh?

I tagged along behind a small group of birders, who led me to a family of American redstarts who gave us a good show as they were harvesting insects in the shrubs and small trees along the Hackberry trail. They don't hold still for very long and are often hidden by leaves and branches in the dense wood; I'm going to need more practice with manual focus if I'm ever going to be able to get a good photo of these little birds.

Another bird that is not so common in the sanctuary is the ovenbird; you would have laughed if you'd heard me calling after him, but he came down to see what all the noise was about. Still, being in such dense shadow and still set on auto focus, this is the best (actually the only) shot I got of him.

Of course, what I came down here for this morning was to see how the leps are faring this month; it's been a spare year for many butterfly species. (I've only seen two zebra longwings, the state butterfly of Florida, since last year!) This is a common checkerspot nectaring on Spanish needles. Lovely, isn't it?

Ever wonder what those little brown butterflies are that seem to be flitting around everywhere you look? Too fast, usually, to get a really good look at them? Skippers, as they are known, are among my favorite butterflies! This is a clouded skipper, a species that seems to be doing well in Turkey Creek this year.

And no lepping expedition occurs without almost as many encounters with dragonflies as with butterflies. The common green darner occurs all across the US, but is difficult to photograph because it doesn't spend much time hanging around where you can see them. This isn't the best species ID photo, but I just love the quality of light in this pic.

Perhaps it's a benefit of developing the patience of a birder, but I'm seeing more dragonflies and finding more opportunities to photograph them now that I'm hanging around birders! (That could also be a factor of the early hour most birders get out, when dragonflies are still warming themselves in the sun and making themselves easier targets! And we're always startling them off their perches, from which they quickly find a new one.)

Of course, no visit to Turkey Creek goes without an encounter with the resident rodents! My little friend gray squirrel met me this morning with a gangload of acorns in his grasp! He sat there right in front of me and ate them, one by one, dropping their shells onto the boardwalk right in front of me. . .

Tomorrow I'm birding near Pelican Island, a new bird-walk destination for me. Since I'm going to be tagging along with an expert birder, I hope to bring you some interesting "gets"!