Quoddy Nature Notes – Juncos
It hasn’t been a very exciting winter in regards to our bird feeder activity. The heavy spruce cone crop seemed to supply all of the nutritional needs of our fine feathered friends, and our black oil sunflower seed bill so far this season has been pretty small. Towards the end of February we got a few more customers with the arrival of a half dozen blue jays, and shortly after that, a dozen Juncos. If your bird guide dates from the 1970’s it might list under ‘Junco’ a bunch of different species that inhabit North America, like the ‘White-winged’, ‘Oregon’, ‘Pink-sided’, ‘Slate-colored’, ‘Gray-headed’, Shufeldts’, ‘Carolina’, and ‘Red-backed’ junco. However it has been determined that these are all the same species, Junco hyemalis, or Dark-eyed junco, which makes life a lot easier for us birders. The only real rarity around here that might cause the birders’ lines to buzz would be if someone spotted a Yellow-eyed junco Junco phaeontus.
A dark eyed junco sits in a balsam fir tree.
Many juncos hang around here all winter, especially the young males, since they want to be here and establish territories for the nesting season. The older males may go south to the Mid-Atlantic States for a little easier wintering. These adult juncos want to get back in the spring, but they are pretty confident of claiming their former territories. The females, however, have none of the real estate worries and may migrate all the way to the Gulf shores for the winter. All of them will be back by late April, have their property squabbles ironed out in short order and begin nesting here in the Quoddy region in May. The female does the work of building the nest. I guess since she is going to use it she doesn’t trust the man of the house to follow her instructions, and she wants it done just right and in the right place. The nest is usually on the ground and pretty well hidden under some roots or overhanging dead grass or shrubs. Dad’s job, during the construction and also the incubation of the eggs, is to stand guard and look important. After the 11-13 day incubation period he does help in feeding the young with small worms and insects. The feeding chore at the nest is only for about two weeks, and then the young are fledged. The parents worry about the youngsters for a few days before starting on brood number two, which is common in this area.
Juncos are pretty rugged birds. One can often see them during a semi or full blizzard foraging for small seeds and grit on the side of a country road. Edward Forbush noted in his book, “Useful Birds and Their Protection” that juncos were a great help to agriculturists because they consumed so many of the seeds of the … “pernicious weeds of witch grass, amaranth, lamb’s quarters and sorrel.” He even quoted a Dr. Judd that timed a junco eating 93 seeds in 2 minutes and 23 seconds. I pretend to help them with an increased bounty of thistle seed and fine cracked corn, and, of course, all of the grit and pernicious weed seeds that they can find.
Since Juncos are ground nesting birds they and their nests are subject to being preyed upon by raccoons, skunks, free roaming cats, weasels and foxes. Sharp-shinned hawks, kestrels, and Cooper’s hawks can catch them in flight. Fortunately, even though juncos may be pretty low on the food chain, they are also quite prolific, and their numbers seem to be in good shape. Other birds, like starlings, crows and quail, have a special word for a group of these birds. I don’t know if there is a distinct word for a flock of juncos. Since they’re my juncos (at least when they are in my yard), I’ll call it a ‘Jehoshaphat’ of juncos.
Northern Flying Squirrel
This essay was originally published in February, 2007. A thank you to Fred Gralenski, the author, came in today. I think it’s well worth repeating. The email is at the bottom.
Flying Squirrels
by Frederick Gralenski
Flying squirrels are a cute but mysterious critter that we have here in the Quoddy region. They are quite common, but since their normal hours of business are from dusk to about midnight we don’t see them very often. There are two species of flying squirrels in North America, the Northern Flying squirrel Glaucomys sabrinus, which is the larger of the two species and comes in at a plump 4 ounces (which is about half the weight of our Red Squirrel), and the Southern Flying squirrel Glaucomys volans, which tips the scale at about 2 ½ ounces. The literature is a little contradictory as to whether we have both species here in the Quoddy region, but we probably just have the Northern Flying squirrel. The Southern variety prefers a more deciduous habitat, and there is a precarious population being studied in southern Nova Scotia. There are 25 subspecies of the Northern Flying squirrel, and not all are recognized as such by wildlife biologists. Around here this squirrel is sometimes called a ‘Night squirrel’; the French Canadians call it ‘Grand Polatouche’; the First Nation call it ‘Assapanick’; but my Passamaquoddy reference book lists only generic squirrel, ‘Mihku’.
Flying squirrels don’t fly, but they are very good at gliding. On a calm day (night) they can glide about 2 ½ times the distance of their launch, i.e., if they launch from a 50 foot tree they can traverse about 125 feet horizontally. At the end of their glide they swoop into a stall condition and make a very controlled four point landing, immediately scamper to the other side of the tree then peek around with their big eyes to see if anything saw them. How they first learn to do this is another one of nature’s mysteries.
Our flying squirrel is the generally accepted subspecies G. s. macrotis. Its winter survival here (even when we did have winters), is pretty intriguing. There is agreement among references that these flying squirrels are gregarious and during cold temperatures as many as a half dozen may nest together in a cozy pile of ‘Old Man’s Beard’ high up in a spruce tree, or in a hollow tree, or in a woodpecker hole, or birdhouse, or, if tolerated, in our house or barn. There is disagreement among references as to whether or not this critter stores food. If they do store food do they all store food together and all get to share? They are active in temperatures below –20 deg F, but do not hibernate or enter torpor (like their Southern cousins). Flying squirrels have figured out that if they add fat reserves they glide like a quarter pound of butter, so they stay pretty lean all winter. And what do they eat? I have seen them on our birdfeeders and at times they feast on the black oil sunflower seeds and at other times on the suet. In the wild our flying squirrels will eat just about any type of seed or anything else, but their normal diet consists of a lot of arboreal and subterranean lichens and fungi. Reportedly Indians would not eat flying squirrels because they ‘ate dirt’. It has been shown that the spores of some lichens and fungi pass unmodified through the digestive tract of flying squirrels, effectively propagating these organisms that are so necessary to the ecology of the forest.
The breeding season of the Northern Flying squirrel usually begins in late March, and there is only one litter of about three per year that are born in the summer. Timid and among the most docile of mammals that we have here, some writers state that the flying squirrel won’t bite if handled. Don’t bet on it. Each animal has his own personality, and there are some that may not bite. I cringe when I see an episode in the allegedly educational nature cartoon ‘Mark Trail’ where some character calmly carries an injured wild beaver under his arm, petting it while he brings it to the vet. That’s probably good fodder for some dreamer in Brooklyn, but I hope our local folk, who are more likely to find a compromised wild animal, know better.
Thanks from PC in Norway, Maine
Many thanks to Fred Gralenski for his piece about Flying Squirrels! I just had the prifilege of rescuing one who was trapped in a corner in the house by my cat. I AM a local Mainer, so know to protect myself from possible defensive gestures. After herding it into a plastic bucket, I wrapped the whole thing in a bath towel and carried it into my woods to release it. I only saw glimpses of cute face a couple of times, but did notice the big eyes–it was either a baby or something I hadn’t seen before in all my years in the woods of Maine. I carried it to the stone wall a bit of a distance away so that it would have plenty of places to hide. When I uncovered it, it fled to a young tree and scurried up so fast I couldn’t get a good look. It did just as you said: near the tiny top of this tree I could just see the paws and claws, a small, tapered tail, and edges of it’s underside–the rest was hidden on the far side. Eventually it scrambled up a bit higher, launched itself, and soared a great distance to another patch of trees. I saw it sailing gracefully against the blue sky for several seconds–a treat I’ll never forget. Your informative article was the first I found, and I am grateful for that! It’s the very first encounter I’ve had with one of these beautiful, shy animals.
PC
Norway, Maine
Quoddy Nature Notes – Bon Appetit
Bon appétit
Now that we are well into 2010, most of us can, without too many pains of a well-scarred conscience, recall the New Year’s resolutions that we failed to keep. I was reminded of my neglect a while back when looking through ‘A Popular Handbook of the Birds of the United States and Canada’, by Thomas Nuttall. What was my abandoned resolution? Not to eat so much. Now what could possibly be the connection between my discarded resolution and an old birder’s handbook? Well, Thomas Nuttall, writing in the mid 1800’s, described birds not only in the way we do today (i.e. size, color, range, habitat, diet, etc.) but he frequently included their edibility, such as:
Osprey -‘…from the nature of its food, the flesh and even the eggs are rendered exceedingly rank and nauseous.’
Barred Owl – ‘…Their flesh is eaten by the Creoles of Louisiana and considered palatable… At Hudson’s Bay a large owl resembling the cinereous (probably the Great Gray owl) is likewise eaten and esteemed a delicacy.’
Meadowlark – ‘…The flesh of our bird is white and for size and delicacy it is considered a little inferior to the partridge, but that of the European is black and bitter.’
Red-winged Blackbird - ‘The flesh of this bird is but little esteemed except when young, being dark and tough like that of the starling, yet in some markets of the US they are at times exposed for sale.’
Bobolink – ‘…As soon as the cool night of October commence and as the wild rice crops begin to fail, the birds take their departure from Pennsylvania and New Jersey and in their farther progress through the southern states they swarm in the rice fields and before the crop is gathered they have already made their appearance in the islands of Cuba and Jamaica, where they feed on the seeds of the Guinea grass and become so fat as to deserve the name of “Butterbirds” and are in high esteem for the table.’
Cedar Waxwing – ‘…Like its European representative (the Waxen Chatterer), it is capable of braving a considerable degree of cold; for in Pennsylvania and New Jersey some of these birds are seen throughout the winter, where as well as in the early part of the summer and fall, they are killed and brought to market generally fat and much esteemed as food.’
Robin – ‘…Mr. Lock was engaged in fowling and wounded a robin which was claimed by a shrike. He finally shot the shrike and got his robin…Even in the vicinity of Boston, flocks of robins are seen, in certain seasons, assembling around open springs in the depth of winter, having arrived probably from the interior; and in these situations they are consequently often trapped and killed in great numbers. When feeding on cherries, poke, sassafras and sour gum berries they are so intent as to be easily approached and shot down in numbers; and when fat are justly esteemed for food and often brought to market.’
Horned Lark – ‘…During migration they are usually fat , esteemed as food and are frequently seen exposed for sale in our markets.’
Snow bunting – ‘…At times, pressed by hunger, they alight near the door of the cottage and approach the barn, or even venture into the outhouses in quest of dormant insects, seed or crumbs wherewith to allay their hunger; they are still, however, generally plump and fat, and in some countries much esteemed for the table.’
Tree swallows – ‘(After migrating to Louisiana)…the greater number resorted to the lakes and spent the night among the wax myrtle whose berries at this season afford them a support which they fatten and are then considered as excellent food.’
Flicker – ‘…In this part of New England (Boston), it is known by the name of Pigeon Woodpecker, from its general bulk and appearance; and to the disgrace of our paltry fowlers, it is in the autumn but too frequently seen exposed for sale in the markets, though its flesh is neither fat nor delicate.’
Considering that these are not even reckoned as game birds, I find it amazing that we have any birds left. Waterfowl were exploited even worse. Again from Nuttall, ‘…The islands between the small port of Little Macatine and Brador (I could not find either of these) abound with the Razor-bill and other allied marine birds whose eggs are collected by the inhabitants of Nova Scotia. For this purpose they commence by trampling on all that they find laid and the following day begin to collect those which are newly dropped, and such is the abundance of the eggs that Mr. Audubon fell in with a party of three men who, in the course of six weeks, had collected thirty thousand dozen with an estimated value of four hundred pounds sterling.’
We could improve our association with the natural world, but I think we have come a long way since the ‘good old days’, but if you want a super recipe for crow, let me know. You’ll have to hurry, as the spring season in the Quoddy region closes on March 31. FG
