The Beauty in Utility: Fall Caterpillars

As the days are getting cooler here in Northwest Arkansas, birds are beginning to migrate from their regular summer haunts to the consistent warmth of the tropics, squirrels are poised and ready to start stashing the season's mast, some of the leaves are starting to blush, and butterflies and moths are giving it one last go at mating and laying eggs. Many species are already done for the year, but many others are flying fresh to get a final round of caterpillars raised. These caterpillars are the only hope for a species' survival through a cold winter. They are the last frontier. This last crop will spend the winter buried in the leaf litter on the forest floor as pupae and sometimes as adults. Occasionally, a butterfly can be seen on a warm day in the dead of winter. One of the notorious species for jumping the gun is this Question Mark. I've seen these in just about every frigid month you could name.

Question Mark (Polygonia interrogationis)

These and their brethren found during the first few days of spring will either be crisp or tattered. The crisp individuals are most likely those that overwintered as a pupa, while those that are tattered probably overwintered as adults.

As I've mentioned before, I really enjoy butterflies (and the more conspicuous moths), but enjoying their caterpillars is another level deeper; a level which I'm, of course, guilty of crossing into. The connectedness of it all is amazing, which I will get into more later. First, let's enjoy some caterpillars. A personal favorite is this Spicebush Swallowtail caterpillar. Not uncommon, but definitely unusual.

Spicebush Swallowtail. This is the last stage before pupation. The younger caterpillars look like bird poop.

This species, like most others, have specific "host plants" that they are adapted to eat. In the case of the Spicebush, it is either spicebush or sassafras. I've seen them most often on sassafras where they fold a leaf in half and use it as a shelter. As you can probably imagine, any bird poking around on this tree would get quite a scare when it peeked inside and saw this snake mimic. It's amazing that not only has each species adapted to their own set of food plants (there is some overlap), but also adapted for protection since caterpillars are such tasty treats for a variety of wildlife. Here you have your typical camouflage, but incredible none-the-less!

Clover Looper Moth Caterpillar (Caenurgina crassiuscula)

The looper moth family (Geometridae), of which the caterpillar above is a member, has really mastered camouflage. The Camouflaged Looper (Synchlora aerata) takes things a step further by attaching plant parts to itself from whatever it is feeding on; usually these are colorful flower petal pieces. The loopers also encompass what many would call "inchworms", though this Clover Looper was more like a 3" worm...

As with the Spicebush Swallowtail caterpillar, many young butterfly larval stages are bird poop mimics, but the Viceroy caterpillar is really good at it all the way through its later stages.  

Viceroy Caterpillar (Limenitis archippus)

Of course, it doesn't fool us when viewed at such close range. While the larvae get by as feces, the adult is a Monarch mimic, threatening birds with the bad taste of milkweed which is one of Mother Nature's great lies since the Viceroy caterpillar uses willow as its host plant. 

Pandorus Sphinx (Eumorpha pandorus)

While the inconspicuous stick to camouflage, some of the braver species go with gaudy. Take this Pandorus Sphinx for example. This was a species I had always wanted to see. My wish came true recently! Most adult butterflies are equally as interesting as the caterpillars, unfortunately the same cannot be said for moths. The caterpillars are usually far more interesting than the adults; the sphinx moth (or hawk moth) family is an exception though. The adults are more like hummingbirds than anything and can often be found nectaring on flowers at night. 

And, if you're going to go gaudy, why not make it yet another species that mimics a Monarch in some way. In doing so, you are protected since nobody wants to eat something that feeds on nasty-tasting milkweed. This is the case of the Clouded Crimson Moth caterpillar below, a species that lives in an open, prairie environment where Monarch cats could also be found. 

Clouded Crimson Moth Caterpillar (Schinia gaurae)

Sometimes methods used to skirt around gaudy aren't enough for a caterpillar. Many species, namely dagger moths and tussock moths have developed spines and hairs, some of which can sting and others that are just plain annoying. Not even a bird wants to eat a hairy caterpillar, though some species get around that by whacking a cat on a branch to knock off spines and hair before eating it! Some of these can pack a nasty sting even to humans. This Smeared Dagger Moth caterpillar (Smartweed Caterpillar) is a prime example; fancy yet dangerous.

Smeared Dagger Moth Cat (Acronicta oblinita) 

Birds are not the only predators for caterpillars, but maybe the most obvious. Caterpillars are highly parasitized by certain wasps and flies. Both of which will lay their eggs on a caterpillar. The larvae will grow up and feed on the caterpillar, eventually killing it. There you have it, yet another protective step taken by adding an armor of spines and hairs. The White-marked Tussock Moth caterpillar even goes so far as to have tufts of hair that make it look like it's already been parasitized! Being one who is definitely tuned into nature, I can't help but wonder why the so called "Seven Wonders of the World" are all man-made. 

White-marked Tussock Moth Caterpillar (Orgyia leucostigma). Amazed yet? There's more!

It's not always about protection from predators, though. Amazingly, some species of caterpillars have formed mutualistic relationships with other insects. Namely the Lycaenids (hairstreaks, coppers, and blues). Remember? My favorite family. According to David Wagner's Caterpillars of Eastern North America, over half of the 5,500 known species in the family are tended by ants as caterpillars. "Tended by ants" can mean a variety of different things. In many of the cases, the caterpillar secretes a sugary liquid that the ants love. In providing for them, the ants offer up undying protection. Some species will eat the ant larvae, but are kept around as a food source for the ants during hard times. According to Eastwood & King (1998), in the case of a hairstreak butterfly in Australia (Arhopala wildei), it feeds on a species of tree tended by some very aggressive ants (Oecophylla smaragdina) who like the sweet sap it produces. The ants viciously protect the tree, yet somehow the caterpillars survive. How does this work? Well, there's another species of ant (Polyrhachis queenslandica) living on the same tree that shuts itself away in protected shelters during the day to keep from getting killed by the vicious species. The caterpillars live in these "compounds" with the ants and are carried...yes, carried...out to feed at night when the aggressive species is not active. The benefit provided to the ants is, again, a sugary secretion. On the other side of this story, in the same tree, the aggressive Oecophylla ant has its own Lycaenid caterpillar that it tends. This species, (Liphrya brassolis) feeds on the ants, while the ants gain nothing due to the caterpillars' extremely thick skin. This is a pretty deep, extreme example, but absolutely amazing! In some cases, the caterpillars have adapted a sort of language (vibrations) that can call on their ant buddies when in need. Here's one of our simpler North American examples. An ant tending a Gray Hairstreak caterpillar, waiting for that sweet secretion.

Gray Hairstreak Caterpillar (Strymon melinus)

Gray Hairstreaks are fairly general as food preferences go. This individual was on yellow ironweed (Verbesina alternifolia). None of our butterflies in the family Lycaenidae are very big, but most are fairly conspicuous. Their young, however, are small and inconspicuous; almost slug-like. This one blended in very well and it probably would've slipped under my radar had it not been for the ant.

I bet you didn't think CATERPILLARS could be so interesting, so I hope I've managed to blow your mind. They're not always easy to find, but once in the right mindset they seem to pop out everywhere. Almost any plant you can think of will be on the list of some species of butterfly/moth as its food plant...that makes things pretty easy.

In every walk with nature one receives more than he seeks.--John Muir

I must say, Muir was right. I always receive more than I seek in the outdoors. And now you, dear reader, have received a heck of a lot more than you sought by simply reading this post. 

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Enjoy!

Butterflies and Odes: The Other Side of Bird Photography

For starters, I've always been interested in birds for getting my kicks in the outdoors. As a matter of fact, they were the only critters I started with WAY back in 2006. It really started as a result of attending the amazing ecology camp I've mentioned in previous essays. By 2007, I was volunteering at a local nature center in my hometown where I met a couple who quickly started turning me into a more serious birder. Not long after that, I was going out with the small community of birders in my corner of Arkansas; photography also started here. Somewhere along the way, I fell into the trap where I'm inspired by most flying things. Almost since their existence, humans have tried to mimic flight in different ways. This must be a fairly common source of curiosity...add me to the list. Specifically, I started noticing butterflies and dragonflies. This started a pull towards these two, especially during the dog days of summer when it was too hot for birds to be active. It all just snowballed from there, but for the purpose of this post I'll focus on butterflies and dragonflies, lovingly called odes (short for odonates) by many.

I've really come to enjoy both throughout the warmer months, even when the birding is great. The more I do it, the easier it becomes to multitask when in the outdoors. However, with my many other nature photography facets, it isn't always easy. You can't look at everything every time you go out, although my photo ventures have provided me a means to learn to multitask at a much higher level than most.

All bird photographers sort of laugh about this because no matter how serious you are about only birds, you will eventually turn to the dark side of other pretty flying things. You might deny it now, but just wait! It's sort of the same concept as a gateway drug talked about in health classes...ok that's a bad example. Maybe a gateway meat, like really good bacon; birds being the gateway here, of course. As I spent my summer days roaming the outdoors, one of the first butterflies that really stopped me in my tracks was the Common Buckeye. This species is nearly dirt common (I hate that phrase, by the way), but a real stunner.

Common Buckeye (Junonia coenia)

If you think birds are hard to photograph, butterflies can be worse. They will let you get much closer if they want to sit still, but if they're on a mission you either have to take off after them or lose them forever, sometimes both. It can be exhausting work, not to mention the outrageous positions you find yourself in to get one on the same plane of focus for a great photo. This is particularly true for those that sit with their wings closed OR open at an angle.

Henry's Elfin (Callophrys henrici)

This Henry's Elfin is a perfect example from my favorite family of butterflies: Lycaenidae. As you can see, every aspect of the wings is along the same plane of focus. You can really see this plane by looking at the gravel to either side of the butterfly. Of course, I could crank up my camera's aperture and not have to lay on the ground or be at some awkward angle, but a narrow depth of field is most attractive when photographing butterflies, mainly to allow a distracting background to blur. Before moving on, here's another favorite species related to the elfin. (Same make, different model) The Harvester shown below has the only carnivorous caterpillar in North America! They feed on aphids.

Harvester (Finiseca tarquinius)

This family of mostly small species is known for being easily frightened and flies so erratically that they can be hard to keep up with; I guess I like them so much because they provide me a good challenge almost every time...sometimes a few choice words too. Moving on, here's a monarch. One of my favorites that seem to be more prevalent in the fall as they are migrating south in droves. I witnessed these droves for the first time last fall at the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve in Oklahoma. I don't know how many monarchs fluttered above the goldenrods, but the number approached five figures. Pretty amazing stuff, especially with a species that everyone knows and can relate to somehow. Unfortunately, these droves will probably only become fewer.

Like birds, different species of butterflies, and odes for that matter, are restricted to certain habitats and regions. (For butterflies, the restrictions have to do with larval food plant availability.) Rarities can also show up where they shouldn't be. Some species can also be common one year and completely absent the next. Get the idea? The concept is not much different than birds. No wonder this cross to the dark side is so stinkin' common! Not to mention, some of them have really fun names like our Questionmark (Polygonia interrogationis) and the Eastern Comma (Polygonia comma), both named by their respective punctuation marks on the underwing. Then there's my personal favorite: The Mosaic (Colobura dirce) from the jungles of Trinidad.

The Mosaic. Arima, Trinidad.

Enough about butterflies, how about some dragonflies? My infatuation with dragonflies really picked up this summer, but it's always been there in a dormant state. Damselflies tickle my fancy too, but not nearly as much as their more conspicuous cousins. Photographing dragonflies is much like photographing butterflies. They, too, sometimes won't sit still and need to be photographed from an awkward angle. They are also more skittish than butterflies, but usually rotate between several perches within a territory. This creates a predictable waiting game. For some reason, I'm particularly attracted to the clubtails; I still haven't figured out why this is. Usually they are uncommon and hard to photograph, so that might have something to do with it. One of my favorites is the Interior Least Clubtail (Stylogomphus sigmastylus), nothing more than a dream on many lists. This species is restricted to small, clear, wooded streams and is particularly skittish. Due to their coloration, they are really hard to relocate when flying just above the water. After a few days of working several at a stream in the Ouachita Mountains, I was able to find the usual perches and lucked out in having one land right next to me. Most of the time they would cease to use a perch anywhere near me. 

Interior Least Clubtail. Ouachita National Forest, AR.

This smallest of the North American clubtails is fairly drab as clubtails go. For contrast, the Flag-tailed Spinylegs might be one of the most colorful. Most spinylegs have their lookalikes, but the long, spiny legs give them away...duh! As you can see, odes have some pretty cool names too.

Flag-tailed Spinylegs (Dromogomphus spoliatus). Tarrant County, TX.

Blue-eyed Darner (Aeshna multicolor).

Like I mentioned before, sometimes dragonflies WILL NOT land, much to a photographer's annoyance. Times like these are when a net comes in handy. (In the absence of a net, feel free to use an Indiana Jones-esque adventure hat.) Such was the circumstance on a recent trip to the Black Mesa in far western Oklahoma, with Blue-eyed Darners. Darners are the main culprits of being hyped up and not landing unless they're on death's front doorstep. We weren't going to leave without an acceptable photo of this electric blue beauty. What was there to do other than catch it in a hat, bag it, and stick it in the cooler for a few minutes? Let's just say after a little time in the ice box that darner was feeling as smooth as a Miss'ippi Southern drawl. Sat like a charm! The process was a sight to see for sure.





As with the butterflies, I also pay attention to odes when I'm traveling abroad. Unfortunately, things become harder to identify in the tropics where there has been less research done to classify things. Here's one from Belize that took me a year to finally decide on:

Hercules Skimmer (Libellula hercules)

Unlike butterflies, dragonfly larvae grow up in an aquatic environment. So, what must an ode need to lay eggs? Well, how about water? This is why out west there will be such huge numbers of dragons/damsels in the vicinity of the ever-so-rare liquid. One of my favorite dragonfly larva is that of the Dragonhunter (Hagenius brevistylus), the largest clubtail in North America. They sit at the bottom of streams and rivers, slowly bobbing their abdomen up and down like a dead leaf. If they detach from the bottom, they fold their legs up and float like a dead leaf. Pretty amazing!

This one was one of many found while teaching aquatic biology at the ecology camp several years ago.

So why else are dragonflies so amazing? Well, first, some species are known to be migratory and I suspect more than that are as well. Second, they eat mosquitoes among other nuisance bugs. Third, they have adapted amazing ways so as not to overheat while flying on a hot day. They are able to stabilize their internal temperature by running excess heat out through their long abdomens.

One of the most vivid: Roseate Skimmer (Orthemis ferruginea). Black Mesa, Cimarron County, OK

It's hard to imagine that any of these dazzling and ferocious modern day dragons are as delicate as they are. After death, no more are the vibrant azures, emeralds, pinks, or reds. Everything turns to a dull grayish, much to the dismay of a collector. Their beauty is ephemeral...c'est la vie, I guess! But they sure do provide enjoyment in life, so get out there and broaden your horizons!

"And now the sun had stretched out all the hills,

And now was dropped into the western bay;

At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue;

Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures new."

--John Milton, Lycidas, 1637

Biplane-like Calico Pennant (Celithemis elisa). Craighead County, AR.

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The Sit Spot: Embracing Nature

Recently, I finished up my final week of teaching at the Arkansas Audubon Society's youth ecology camps. For the first two weeks of the camp (Setting: Arkansas' Ouachita Mountains) I am a co-instructor for ornithology (birds...duh) one week and, this year, a co-instructor for aquatic biology the other week. This is the first-year camp for 11-12 year-olds; 50 per week. Also at this location are second-year campers (12 per week), who get invited back for a more rigorous ecology-based curriculum complete with a field trip to visit Red-cockaded Woodpeckers, snorkeling in cold Ouachita springs, gathering/comparing data from north and south facing slopes, and more! These are earlier in the summer season. The camp I just finished, was the AAS's Johnson Advanced Camp. This camp is set in the Ozarks, far north of the first two years' camp. It is also a smaller, elite group of 12 campers who get invited back for their third year. If the second year sounded rigorous, then the third year is downright crazy. At this camp, our days are jam-packed with tree transects (upland and lowland), hiking, bird walks (in the AM), herp walks (in the PM), a five hour wild cave tour, canoeing, camping, more hiking, botany, geology, and the list goes on. Because this is the last camp, we give it a hopeful, more hands-on, citizen science based flair so they can take the knowledge and tools home with them to continue on this great path that they've started. Showing these kids why we and science are so important to land stewardship and conservation is a blessing and provides me with lots of hope for the future of our world.

Just ONE of the enchanting scenes at the first-year camp in the Ouachitas.

In terms of our camp vs. the world, 100 campers per year (not counting those who get invited back) is like a grain of sand on a vast beach. Although, I really believe that 100 more aware people in this world CAN make a difference. That doesn't mean that all of our campers will go on to become ecologists, biologists, naturalists, etc; it just won't happen. But, it's more about awareness than anything and awareness of the natural world is something mostly of the past in our disconnected, "civilized", world. So making more people aware (and at a young age) is pretty important. Young people are who ultimately matter for both the near and far-flung future, but adults need not be lost either!

You can't tell me this isn't about as good as it gets: a COOL, crisp morning smack dab in the middle of an Arkansas summer. This complete with a Bald Eagle on the US's first national river on July 4th; how...American.

The outdoors can be a great place to find yourself...I know, I know cliché, blasé, etcetera (to throw in some French), but it's true! There have been plenty of tough spots in my life where being in nature has acted in a healing way, if not just to be around something else that's so alive! I mean, just look at the photos above, you can't tell me that doesn't stir something primitive deep inside you; some inner longing for natural beauty. Not only is nature healing when you need healing, but it's healing even on a good day; so, rejuvenating, if you will. Which is why, ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you the Sit Spot.  (Watch your enunciation on that one.) This is about one of the simplest ways to enter into nature and it takes little time. It's great for kids because it gets them out of the droll routine of society; ie. go to school, learn by the book, and take a test that determines your level of intelligence...HA! For adults, it's a great way to rejuvenate your busy brain. Let's face it, daily life wears us out mentally and physically. It is really nice to get back to the basics; being outdoors is a primal need and one that many of us reject.

For our campers, the basic "curriculum" we use for the sit spot is this:
1. Find a quiet place in your backyard, along your favorite trail, etc. Your everyday sit spot should be someplace close, quiet, and easy to get to.
2. Bring a journal. Writing about what you are seeing, hearing, feeling can be beneficial the deeper you get into this idea. Especially for someone with a more scientific mind, like myself, who may want to compare data later.
3. I recommend giving it AT LEAST 30 minutes, but you should fit it to your schedule. Most of us have lives after all.
4. More tips for sitting success: For best results, do this alone. If in a group, then spread out. Some people are loners while some can't be alone. Trust me on this one, it's best alone even if that's not what tickles your fancy.---Leave your worldly troubles behind to either pick up on the way out or to never think about again.---Bring binoculars if you wish. As a hardcore birder I typically leave these behind (*gasp*, they distract me).---Leave technology behind, at least for the sit spot.---Do it while you travel too! A change of scenery is never a bad thing.---Also, this is something cool to do as a family.---Give it a go at night sometime, but be careful.---Be aware of where you are sitting before you sit. You can find some interesting things on a sit spot that would rather your spot of sitting not be on the space they sit (read further).

Besides what I've already mentioned, what can a sit spot do for you? Well, first of all it reconnects us with nature, providing us with a personal connection. If you want to delve deeper into your time outdoors, then utilizing one location can really allow you to get to know the creatures around you and get into the inner workings of Mother Nature. One of my favorite benefits is the time for reflection, almost like meditation. This all may sound a little hippie-dippy (and for men, unmanly) but that's what our society has made of it. Looking back at great men like John Muir, Teddy Roosevelt, and many others who sought solace and reflection in nature, ask yourself: were they "hippy" and "feminine"? You might have even found yourself in a fist fight for thinking such a thing in their presence. It's never a bad thing to sharpen your mind and concentration, which a sit spot does.

The sit spot is what you make of it. A great camp boss once told me "the key to life is adaptability". Maybe think about that during your first sit spot. And by all means, find a nice Umbrella Magnolia like this one!

One of my favorite places for a sit spot is along a stream or river. Everything has to come to water at some point and some REALLY cool stuff can be observed when you slip in unnoticed. Of course, being near water in the summer can have its benefits. Recently I found my sit spot in a creek that was clearly spring-fed. Though temperatures were in the 90s, the stream was so cold for my time in it that I was still cool for quite a while on the hike afterwards. With (and without) campers, I have seen some cool critters on a stream-side sit spot. For example, Louisiana Waterthrushes bobbing their butts up and down an area searching for food and feeding young, the aforementioned Bald Eagle that sat pretty on a foggy Fourth of July morning several years ago, and my personal favorite, a family of mink that played across the river while I looked on in amazement.

One of the obliging mink doing some reflecting itself. (I usually leave the camera behind too).

My sit spots tend to be more on the hardcore side. I enjoy getting to know the life in a certain place through the birds. The longer you are a bird watcher, the more skills you gain in that department, like being able to identify birds by sound without having to see them. Many birders take it no further than this, but if you delve ever deeper, you can know what's going on in the entire forest by simply listening from one spot. On a recent sit spot, I was on a bluff overlooking the Little Red River. It was early morning when the birds should have been very alive, but all was silent down below and on the ridge top behind me. At this time of day, in mid-summer, most birds are noisily marking their territory with song or scolding a Blue Jay or crow that wanders too close; not this morning. From experience, I figured some sort of predator was about and because the treetop singers were silent, I could rule out some sort of predator like a fox or bobcat on the ground. Figuring it was probably a hawk or other raptor I spent the remainder of my sit spot listening. Soon I heard the high-pitched squeal of a Broad-winged Hawk, solidifying my hypothesis.

Cooper's Hawk. A die-hard bird eater and another notorious character for enacting a "zone of silence".

Not long after, the hawk must have slipped away from its perch of terror because the birds started to come alive. Not all at once, but species-by-species; the bravest first. I have observed this "zone of silence" many times since I've been tuned into bird language. Birds aren't always silent around predators though. At camp this year, our group was hiking and came across a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Indigo Buntings and more, low to the ground and raising alarm about something. Being that close to the ground you can rule out a larger predator, so what critter is it that can fit in their small alarm zone? A timber rattlesnake on his own mission to cross a nearby road! The telling language of birds is an interesting one, though probably daunting to someone who hasn't been around birds long. Bird language is a topic for another day, albeit a great example of how to expand your sit spot both mentally and physically.

The offending party, as docile as ever.

Yet another recent sit spot, although technically not, happened during a few minutes I got alone during a night-time activity at camp. This activity was a short night walk WITHOUT a flashlight. Something that is soothing in and of itself. The night was anything but silent. While waiting on the campers to finish, I was deafened by the sound of katydids and other night bugs. The most striking part was the presence of thousands of fireflies. The sheer number I had never actually witnessed. These little lanterns glinting in the dark woods were awe-inspiring. After my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was amazed at the large area they are able to illuminate with their light bulb butts. This was something of fantasy to most people and how sad that they miss out?!

One more thing...while it seems obvious to most, some may not realize that things will be VERY different during different seasons. Spring and summer are all about life and growth, fall is about letting go of summer's prosperity, and winter is all about survival and trying to beat out death. Sit in or near water somewhere during the summer if you don't like the heat and bundle up in the winter. Either way, go find a rock or some cushy leaves and have at it!

I had to do it. This Six-spotted Tiger Beetle is a woodland gem and a fierce predator for the less than 1/2" of space it takes up. Keep an eye out and maybe you can watch one hunt while you sit. Pretty cool! Other species of tigers can be found in different habitats, though this is the prettiest of the more common ones.

You never really know what to expect when outdoors, even someplace like a sit spot where you are a regular. Being in tune to what's going on in nature is something very special that our ancestors once took great pride in. I think they would be ashamed of today's world in many ways. The sit spot is just one way that aids in gaining a deeper understanding of our natural world, appreciation of which we often lack. So make the family of your past and present proud, while paving the way to a better future. Deepen your awareness of the natural world so something is here for our future generations to enjoy. A reconnection like this is a big step, but a necessary one. When you do it enough, gosh darn it feels good to be primitive for a little while and just pay attention to what is REALLY going on around you, not the bustle of human life! Savor it always!

• The idea of a sit spot, alas, is not my own. I'm a mere messenger. It comes from Coyote Mentoring Wilderness Awareness School, whose book we use often at camp: http://wildernessawareness.org/program/coyote-mentoring/
• If you're into reading about stuff like this, then A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold is an absolute gem and classic for your enjoyment. It's an easy read too.
• For more, John Muir and Henry David Thoreau (among others) also wrote classics that can inspire that nature-lover hidden deep inside you. Although, theirs may be a little more hardcore than Aldo Leopold starting out. 
• Finally, if you want more about bird language, then What the Robin Knows by Jon Young is an excellent choice. I must say, it is what inspired me to dive behind the wall of simply identifying birds by sound.

Enjoy and good sitting,

Mitchell

In Old North Carolina

Bodie Island Lighthouse (ca. 1872)

From Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, another birder and I caught a plane to Norfolk, VA where we were poised to start yet another week of birding; this time on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Nowhere I've been, and probably few places in the world, surpass the coastal habitat and birding opportunities of the Outer Banks. The southeastern forests meet Atlantic salt marshes and duney beaches here, bringing together the most interesting of both. Arriving late seemed to be a trend, but we were able to get cleaned up and ready to meet the rest of our crew the next day; another birder from Arkansas and a former camper of mine, who has become quite the birder/naturalist himself.

Not only are the Outer Banks naturally interesting, they're also very historically interesting. On the way south to stay with some local birders with long-held ties to Arkansas, we passed Roanoke Island (site of the lost English colony), Kill Devil Hills and Kitty Hawk (where the Wright Brothers took flight), Bodie Island (home to one of the Outer Banks' famed 19th-century lighthouses), Rodanthe, and finally Hatteras. And of course, we stopped to bird along the way! Oregon Inlet was the coolest stop of the day. Here we found nesting colonies of Least Tern, Black Skimmer, American Oystercatcher, Piping Plover, and one Red Knot in brilliant breeding plumage. Since our Red Knot has recently been listed as "threatened", it made the sighting that much cooler. Pretty much ending the day with this, we arrived in Frisco to stay with our birder friends and ready ourselves for the next day's adventure.

This adventure came in the form of a pelagic trip. This might not mean much to most people, but to a birder it's a rite of passage involving all day on a boat looking for birds that never come to the mainland. Most of the time, they cannot even be seen from land. Our day started with a 5:30am departure and several hours of nothing until we were about 35 miles offshore. Here at the Gulf Stream, we hit it big with Cory's Shearwater, Great Shearwater, Sooty Shearwater and Wilson's Storm-Petrel.

Great Shearwater: medium-sized with a dark back and cap.

Multiple flocks fed in the warm currents, usually allowing the boat in close proximity and providing great views. Before this trip, I was under the impression that all the pelagic species looked the same and it was impossible for the land-lubbing birder to identify them without guides. At first it was, but only because of our unfamiliarity with them. Once you notice differences in size and color (as in shearwaters) or tail length (as in storm-petrels), it wasn't so bad! The day brought more birds: Long-tailed Jaeger, Pomarine Jaeger, Audubon's Shearwater, Manx Shearwater, Leach's Storm-Petrel, Band-rumped Storm-Petrel, the sought-after Black-capped Petrel, Bridled Tern, and Arctic Tern. With these species, nothing was left to the imagination other than what rare seabird might be lurking just over the horizon. The first five hours went by in a flash with all the heavy birding, but the second half of the day just rolled by with the waves. After lunch, exhaustion had set in. I stayed pretty much glued to a bench for the rest of the day, dozing off, but still listening intently for anything good to be announced over the loudspeaker. Our party was all in the same boat! I fully expected to arrive in Africa before the afternoon was up. Some notes to those birders thinking of doing a pelagic:

1. If you have to use the restroom, just do it. There's no good time to go with the constant fear of missing something. When our first Black-capped Petrel was announced, I was in the head and had to quickly finish and throw the door open. I set a personal record and almost knocked another passenger off the boat, but I saw AND photographed the bird! If you have to, cast modesty overboard and open that door when something good is announced! The rest of us will forgive you.
2. Suck up the sea sickness. The only seasick birder on board was in our elite Arkansas group. We're land-lubbers through and through. He powered through it though, leaning off the boat to heave and coming back up firing the camera and finishing his conversations! When you're out there for 12 hours, you don't have a choice but to make the most of it. Also, eat ginger snaps, I hear they taste the same on the way out as they do on the way in. Or opt for a more seabird friendly choice like tuna/other seafood...help out with the chumming process. The captain will thank you.

My lifer Black-capped (Pee)trel.

We arrived back shaky and sunburned at 5:30pm, exactly TWELVE hours after we embarked. It was worth every penny, but I won't be doing it again very soon!

It's amazing something no larger than a swallow can survive such an extreme environment. Wilson's Storm-Petrel.

The true seafarer of our crew did a pelagic again the next day, but the rest of us opted out to start several days of productive land birding. We birded Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge with our generous hosts. Shorebirds were plentiful as well as several marsh specialties we were looking for. By lunchtime, we had nailed Clapper Rail and multiple Seaside Sparrows, all desired targets. We also had Gull-billed Tern, Tricolored Heron, and a Red-necked Phalarope in breeding plumage. None of this was a big deal for coastal North Carolina, but us Arkansans were out of sorts from all the "good" birds. The end of the day brought us back to Oregon Inlet where we walked alongside the nesting colonies and observed the birds going to and from the water for food. The Least Terns were my favorite to watch. Both parents took care of the eggs and young. Coming and going from the nest would start a "changing of the guard" process. Methodic and well-rehearsed, the sitting parent stands up to greet the other as if to check their identity. The new arrival then moves to the nest, while the other takes off in search of food. Watching activity around the dunes was mesmerizing. On the sound side of the same barrier island, we found a late White-winged Scoter and a Black Scoter not far away. Black Scoter has been a long-time nemesis of mine, needless to say I was pretty excited when it was spotted. The scoters marked the end of our most productive day.

Least Tern on Eggs. 

Cape Hatteras Lighthouse (ca. 1870)

In the morning, we started with a stop at the famed Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. This is a well-known east coast landmark with its black spirals and bright red base. It was actually moved, yes, picked up and MOVED in the late 1990s to save it from a salty death in the encroaching ocean. It was a big to-do. Equipped with seismic sensors and cameras, the move was monitored by a company on the mainland to make sure no new cracks appeared in the antique brick structure. They only moved it a 1/4 mile over the course of several months, but moving it was a good call as a hurricane destroyed its former location not long after. 

From there, our group hopped on a ferry to Ocracoke Island for lunch and an afternoon of birding. What else?!

Birding on Ocracoke was interesting to say the least and netted us nothing new. However, we were fortunate to find yet another nesting colony of birds. Here we were able to walk along the waterline quite a ways before national park ropes protecting the breeding territories came into play. In this colony we had close views of American Oystercatchers, Piping Plovers, and 27 Red Knot! The knots don't breed on the east coast, but lag behind in small numbers through late spring and early summer. For us to see 27 of these newly threatened birds in breeding plumage at close range was something really special. Also on this stretch of beach were hundreds of White Beach Tiger Beetles, another vulnerable species. When it comes to an unlikely duo like the Red Knot and the beetle, it's all about habitat. Habitat, or lack thereof, is almost always what drives a species into being threatened or worse. The Outer Banks and its wide swaths of national park property do a great job as far as protection goes, but it isn't always so simple. Coastal ecosystems, especially barrier islands, can be crippled so by humans that it doesn't take much of a storm for Mother Nature to finish the job. 

White Beach Tiger Beetle (Cicindela dorsalis media)

In an environment that's all about beach-goers and fishing, it's not hard to forget about the little guy in the form of birds like the Piping Plover that vanishes like a ghost in the sand and the even littler guy like the tiger beetle, but everything holds the ecosystem together in some way and we'll be willing them back when they're gone. 

One of the little waterfront ghosts: Piping Plover.

On a happier note, as the sun set on our last day in North Carolina we had no regrets. Our hosts, the state, and the birds had treated us well on our trip. North to Virginia we spent one more day of birding, this time at Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge, another important coastal refuge. Most of our morning was spent staking out King Rails along marshy boardwalks. A kind volunteer helped us for a while, pointing out other interests along the way including a mass of Eastern Cottonmouths. After nothing but vocalizations I finally saw one, but it was gone too quick for anyone else to get on it. We kept at it until a nasty storm came and pushed us to shelter. With a warm bowl of she-crab soup, a Virginia specialty, we called it quits for the day as the rain continued. The afternoon spent chilling was much needed after a week (two for me) of heavy all day birding. Nobody could complain about that! 

As we headed west to our inland lives, we daydreamed about shearwaters, Red Knots, and lighthouses. I think I even saw one of the tiger beetles crawl by. It's been a great season for me and birding with friends. I can't wait to see what the rest of 2015 brings!

P.S. I had to throw in some trip dragonflies....

Needham's Skimmer (Libellula needhami). Back Bay NWR, Virginia.

Seaside Dragonlet (Erythrodiplax berenice). Pea Island NWR, Dare County, North Carolina.

For a complete set of photos from the North Carolina trip, visit: http://www.pbase.com/mpruitt/north_carolina_2015

Enjoy!

~Mitchell

The Land of the Hummingbirds, Trinidad and Tobago

When someone infatuated with nature and birds visits the tropics, they catch some kind of fever that keeps you always wanting more. To satisfy the fever, I found myself in the tropics once again this May, this time in Trinidad and Tobago. This charming republic consists of two main islands that are so different it leaves you wondering how they remain as one. Trinidad is very much South American while Tobago, just a 20-minute flight away, is more Caribbean in style. Barely off the coast of Venezuela, neither island is large; Trinidad is about 1900 square miles, dwarfing Tobago's 115 square miles. Despite their size, T&T have a renowned reputation with birders and ecotourists worldwide. The Caribbean meets South America in the flora and fauna of the islands, morphing habitats and creating unparalleled opportunities for the nature-lover. This year, I spent three days in Trinidad and three in Tobago with a group of birders led by a Dr. R. Kannan (professor at the University of Arkansas-Fort Smith). His love for the birds, a keen eye and ear, and his ability to corral our group made for an exciting trip.

After a day of traveling, we arrived at the Asa Wright Nature Centre at 1:30am. This colonial plantation property is THE birder's stop in Trinidad. We arrived to the less-humid mountain air of Trinidad's Northern Range, a welcome sandwich, Ferruginous Pygmy-Owls calling, and bats visiting the hummingbird feeders on the famous veranda. It wasn't easy to sleep with all the excitement, even if it was for a measly few hours. At 5:00am, I was up and a FULL day of birding ensued....this schedule stayed pretty solid for the remainder of the trip.

View from the Veranda. Note the Crested Oropendola nests hanging in the tree.

Luckily, the staff at Asa Wright prepare for tired birders by having syrupy thick, delicious coffee ready to go at the crack of dawn. It's hard to explain your first day in a new tropical place to those who have never experienced it. The jungle is deafening with birds and bugs and they are EVERYWHERE. On your first day in a new place with so many new birds, you can't walk fifteen feet without seeing or hearing something you don't recognize. In fact, I spent two hours on the veranda (basically a second-story back porch) that morning before breakfast just sitting and watching the woods and feeders below. Before I had two cups of coffee down, I had seen 28 new species. One of which was the Purple Honeycreeper, a bright ball of blue with electric yellow feet.

Purple Honeycreeper, one of three honeycreeper species visiting Asa Wright's veranda.

After breakfast, the sun was beginning to peek through, lighting up the array of hummingbirds visiting the veranda. More on that later. The task at hand was to now find the Bearded Bellbirds, two species of manakin, and the Oilbirds; all specialties of the property. Through a light rainshower, we managed to find both Golden-headed and White-bearded Manakins and with a little more effort, several Bearded Bellbirds that put on a show. Our group watched in awe as the bellbirds patrolled the perimeters of their territories. This species is surprisingly large and has fleshy wattles that hang from its throat, making it look prehistoric. Its sharp call, resembling a shoe catching on a gym floor, adds to this prehistoric demeanor.

Bearded Bellbird caught still for a few moments. 

After knocking these species out fairly easily (and with great views), we trekked down from a ridge and into a canyon...and I do mean down. Our steep trip took us over slick rocks and past giant leaf cutter ant mounds that could easily swallow multiple grown men. I focus on the birds a lot, but they weren't everything on this trip. Our wonderful guide was quick to point out other wildlife.

Tent-making Bat (Uroderma bilobatum). This resourceful critter wraps a leaf around itself for shelter. 

Trinidad Stream Frog (Mannophryne trinitatis). The adult males carry the eggs on their backs.

As we neared the crevice/cave that housed the Oilbirds, all was silent. The principle sound was the stream flowing out of the cave, every so often you could feel the vibrations from a Rufous-breasted Hermit (a large hummingbird) buzzing past. Oilbirds are a very large, nocturnal species that ranges from Trinidad and Venezuela down the Andes. They are frugivores and travel up to 70 miles at night, for food, using echolocation to navigate. When the Spanish explorers came through the area, they were scared of the caves and thought they were gates to hell because of the chilling alarm sounds the hidden oilbirds made. Through history, juveniles were captured and used as a source of lamp oil. We caught our protected colony resting on the walls of the cave, wary of our presence and not moving.

Because they were so still, I was able to use a long-exposure to capture this one. Like I said, they're large and measure in at about the size of a Northern Harrier.

White-chested Emerald

After the trek out, it was lunchtime followed by more time on the veranda before our afternoon field trip. By now, hawks were soaring and the hummingbirds were at full force, gracing the birders with their delicate beauty. Several species made it to the most common list at Asa Wright. These included White-necked Jacobin, White-chested Emerald, and Copper-rumped Hummingbird. Though seemingly everywhere, the Copper-rumped was surprisingly hard to get close enough for a good photo.

White-necked Jacobin male. These large hummers pretty much dominated the feeders.

In Belize last year, the only look I had of a White-necked Jacobin was a quick fly-by from a male, so I was excited to learn that this bird was so common at the center and would even land right in your face! After a while of watching and photographing the hummers, a Black-throated Mango came and landed very close...I almost fell off the veranda. In North America, this is a species whose cousin's name gets whispered for fear it will never be added to an ABA listers' life list. To have any non-fruit mango sitting right in front of me was an honor.

Black-throated Mango male. This is a VERY large hummingbird.

Yet another stunner coming to the veranda was the Blue-chinned Sapphire, the tailpiece design of Caribbean Airlines. In good light, they're a blinding sparkle flitting around flowers and blessed from head to toe with iridescent feathers. The hummers seemed to have their place: either feeder or flower. Some of the species that visited the flowers were harder to photograph, as they typically did not perch nearby. These included both Rufous-breasted and Green Hermits, two species I wasn't able to photograph, but did get to enjoy looking at their long, curved bills.

The significantly smaller Blue-chinned Sapphire.

Probably the most sought after hummingbird in Trinidad, and a poster-child for the center, is the Tufted Coquette. This hummer could lay down on a silver dollar with room to spare and ONLY comes to the flowers, typically early in the morning. For the first two days we saw the female, which is impressive enough, but the male even more so. On the last day, we got him!

Tufted Coquette male.

Out of the 11 species of hummingbird seen on the trip, the one I most wanted was the Ruby-topaz Hummingbird. My wish came true on the last morning at Asa Wright when a male came to the flowers. It was quick and provided no photos. However, the species is MUCH more common on Tobago. The Blue Waters Inn on Tobago has feeders outside every room that host the birds all day. We caught on to their game of going from feeder to feeder, down the line and starting again. This made it hard to photograph and after putting some heads together we decided to isolate one feeder and take down the rest. Our fearless leader put the other feeders on the ground, only to discover the birds still liked feeding from them better than our isolated one! Better hiding techniques were used until we finally had the brilliant male right in front of us. A few passes and it was game over.

Ruby-topaz Hummingbird

Spending time at any of these places, or under a flowering tree in the jungle, it's easy to see why T&T has been dubbed "The Land of the Hummingbirds" for hundreds of years. Though that's a plus, it's definitely not the whole trip. While in Trinidad we had daily treks down from the mountains to the Arima Valley, Caroni Swamp, and the coast. Our first was to Arippo Savannah in the Arima Valley where we mopped up open-country birds like Southern Lapwing (a giant plover), Wattled Jacana, Striated Heron, South American Snipe, Green-rumped Parrotlets, and the list goes on.

Southern Lapwing

Of course, as an owl fanatic, I was ecstatic when our guide surprised us with a family of Tropical Screech-Owls living in a tree along the road into the savannah.

Tropical Screech-Owl family.

Later that evening a picnic dinner was served on the beach as we readied ourselves for a night of turtle watching. In silence we waited on a remote beach while spotters sent light signals back and forth in regards to Leatherback Sea Turtles. After an hour of waiting, one of the signals was different and right in front of us, a giant black blob came up from the water. This turtle was HUGE! Weighing about 900lbs, it was every bit of six feet long. We were silent as she worked her way toward us and began throwing sand with giant fins. As she spun around, getting the sand temperature right, she began digging a small hole with her hind fins. Later, the turtle became entranced, laying her eggs and not seeming to notice researchers as they took measurements, drew blood, and fitted her with a radio tracking device. When the egg laying was done, she was gone, hardly leaving a trace where the giant crater had been.

The next morning was back to the birds for our last full day in Trinidad. Adventure was had by all as we hiked the bellbird trail again and walked down the entry road spotting Bay-headed Tanager, the endemic Trinidad Motmot, several woodcreepers, Yellow-bellied Puffing Snake, and too much more to list. The motmot was somewhat skittish and hard to come by in Trinidad, but was what some might wrongly call a trash bird on Tobago. 

Trinidad Motmot

That afternoon, we headed to the Trincity Sewage Ponds where we picked up Yellow-HOODED Blackbird, Pied Water-Tyrant, White-headed Marsh-Tyrant, and other goodies before heading to Caroni Swamp. Once at Caroni, we boarded a boat for our evening cruise through a mangrove swamp, ending at a lake surrounded by mangrove trees adorned with Scarlet Ibis. It doesn't get much closer to heaven on earth than 1800 Scarlet Ibis streaming past and landing right in front of you.

Adult and immature Scarlet Ibis.

The next day we hopped a plane and were on Tobago in no time. It's a little trickier once you're on the ground. T&T has nice roads, but most are not up to the standards of the American stomach. After over an hour of curving along the coast we finally reached our destination just 20 miles east of the airport. Before leaving Scarborough, Tobago's "capitol", we stopped at a nice pond to bird where we were greeted by Spectacled Caiman in the afternoon sun. 

Spectacled Caiman. Smaller and stockier than your average American Alligator.

Tobago was a little more relaxed, but still birdy. We did have a leisurely afternoon off, but not before two awesome trips! The first was a boat trip to Little Tobago Island, not 2 miles out from our hotel. The targets were seabirds. On the way we saw the likes of Brown Noddy, Bridled Tern, Sooty Tern, and several others sitting on volcanic rock dripping with cacti...and poop. Despite being in a sheltered bay, the water was rough with 8 foot swells. Trying to photograph birds and look through the glass bottom boat at the reef was a disaster waiting to happen! 

Sooty Terns on the Rocks

After an interesting landing on Little Tobago, we hiked to the top where we had a nice view of the Atlantic and were at eye level with soaring tropicbirds while Red-footed Boobies sat on rocks below. It was one of those moments where you just have to stop and take it all in. This part of the world was going into their fall season while we were there, so nesting had slowed way down. We did manage to catch one tropicbird and an Audubon's Shearwater at nest, though!

Red-billed Tropicbird watching over a nest site.

Later that night, at the inn, I had a knock on my door. It was one of Dr. Kannan's students who quickly said they wanted me to get my camera and come outside. When I did, I saw Dr. Kannan standing near an Audubon's Shearwater! Shearwaters are among the groups of birds that don't come to land except to nest...or crash land on concrete thinking it is water, as this one did. Our bird had managed to make it down three stairs on its way to the water, but was probably hurt and moving very slowly. Seabirds like this are meant for flying and have very weak legs set far back on the body making it awkward to even stand up. They are unable to fly unless there's water to use as a runway. This bird was in bad shape and against its will, I picked it up to take it down to the water. Getting to hold the feisty shearwater (our smallest) was pretty cool! I like to think it was thankful because it didn't take long for it to find the water and take off like nothing happened.

Audubon's Shearwater

Our final day on Tobago found us in a rainforest preserve where we were fortunate to find more specialties like the Blue-backed Manakin, White-fringed Antwren, and the White-tailed Sabrewing; yet another hummingbird. This species was thought to be extinct on Tobago after a hurricane in the 1960's, but was finally rediscovered years later and is now fairly common along the Main Ridge of Tobago and in its rainforests. Tobago and part of Venezuela is the only home of this species worldwide.

White-tailed Sabrewing

The next day we were back in Trinidad, all awaiting flights home. Our group's trip list approached 180 species for the week, my life birds for the week totaled 112. I often get comments, as do most birders, about how a trip like this could possibly be relaxing. My answer: it's what I love to do and is what really makes me come alive. Birds and nature are my passion. What better way to spend time off than doing what you love?

For a complete set of photos from this awesome trip, visit: http://www.pbase.com/mpruitt/trinidad__tobago_2015

The Mosaic--Colobura dirce...A good note to end on!