Showing posts with label Greater Yellowlegs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Greater Yellowlegs. Show all posts

A Story that Needs to Be Told (and Retold) . . . to Initiate Action

Black-crowned Night Herons are fairly consistent inhabitants at several locations at Standing Rush; a couple have been lurking on an island of woody debris in the West Marsh lately, so I was somewhat prepared -- this individual posed
long enough late last Thursday afternoon for two images: this one and a second (better composed, but very blurry)

Last week (Thursday), an article just published in the journal Science spilled almost redundantly into the mainstream media. Unlike so many biological or environmental subjects which are so often relegated to subtle margins of second sections and/or carried only by "niche" publications, news coverage of this story seemed as sweeping as the original title was bold: Billions of North American birds have vanished.

Greater Yellowlegs in last Thursday's late afternoon sun 
In literally a minute of web searching, here are a handful of some of the largest outlets' respective renditions:


This list could (and does) go on . . . and on. If you haven't caught up with specifics of these findings, pick your poison. No matter the source, the numbers are same: an exhaustive study recently completed concludes that nearly 30% of the entire population of birds (all environments, across all species) have disappeared from the skies over North America in under five decades. That means that in my lifetime, where there would have been four birds -- say in 1975 -- there are now fewer than three (see my caption on the top photo from my most recent post below).

American Bittern -- camouflaging as brown
cattails -- stands in vertical attention in
Standing Rush sun 
I stumbled onto the abstract of the primary source to this media blitz on my phone last Thursday afternoon following a full day in the marsh (escorting surveyors as we gathered site-wide elevation data). I have to admit, it really took the wind out of my sails. I had already slipped off my stealtoes and changed into tennis shoes for the drive home, but I felt compelled to make one more lap around the West Marsh, specifically to seek out anything and everything I could find on the wing.

The images herein capture the diversity that I could gather (in focus) with my camera in one 45 minute shotgun tour on the MULE. I needed the reassurance of seeing some birds, but I also still needed to get home in time for dinner!

Here are the other birds that I witnessed, but did not photograph (with estimated quantities in parentheses): Brown-headed Cowbird (200); Red-winged Blackbird (150); Great Egret (20); Morning Dove (20); Mallard (20); Wood Duck (16); Great Blue Heron (10); Blue-winged Teal (7); Blue Jay (7); Double-crested Cormorant (6); Bald Eagle (5); Trumpeter Swan (5); Common Gallinule (5); American Coot (4); Black-crowned Night Heron (4); Killdeer (4); Greater Yellowlegs (3); Lesser Yellowlegs (2); Green Heron (2); Caspian Tern (2); American Bittern (1); Belted Kingfisher (1); Red-tailed Hawk (1); Marsh Wren (1).

Trumpeter Swans -- once completely eliminated from Ohio
-- are now a common site at Standing Rush
So, if my math is on-point, that breaks down to twenty-three species and approximately 496 individuals. I can never help but wonder what I didn't see on a quick pass like this. My routine when time is limited is to drive for 30 seconds and then sit for 10 minutes. I have a fairly trained eye, but I would not put myself in the "avid" category. Plus, my ear is really untrained (that is, I can't ID much by vocalization like the true birders can).

On one hand, this is a lot of birds. But dare to imagine if there were another 30% or even 50% more? -- even if not in terms of species diversity but in relative abundance?

Three BILLION birds lost?! That's a staggering number. That's more than 5-times the human population of all of North America. And based on the findings, it's not just the uncommon birds that are struggling. Or the birds that rely on forests. Or grasslands. Or big birds or small birds. This mass extraction of life is broad and sweeping and seems to have no prejudice.

Three (not four) Great Blue Herons keeping vigilant watch on muskrat hutches Thursday afternoon

From my perspective, the primary questions introduced through this scientific revelation should be: How do we, as individuals and as a society, respond to stressors on our planet and its resources? Do we resign ourselves to denial or maybe as dangerously to acceptance and complacency ('the world is just changing' . . . 'numbers naturally ebb and flow' . . . 'this is just part of the natural process')? Do we simply allow this to be a headline in a single day's news cycle? Or do we recognize that the power of positive change truly is in our hands?

This scientific research and the systematically vetted conclusions it draws provide an incredible opportunity -- or perhaps more accurately, billions and billions of opportunities to alter countless decisions made each day. Rather than discard these troubling trends as myth or slip into a state of despair, consider what individual steps we can take to collectively reverse a trend. (We have bald eagles and trumpeter swans as feathered success stories.) But ultimately, this story has to do with a lot more than birds.

Individual Decisions that Help Birds (Other Wildlife, and the Planet)
  • Make windows safer (consider decals or contrasting tape);
  • Keep cats indoors (free-range domestic felines account for an amazing amount of mortality);
  • Look for habitat improvement opportunities (literally) in your yard -- plant native plants;
  • Reduce -- or wherever feasible, eliminate -- chemicals on your yard;
  • Drink shade-grown coffee (helps protect critical forest habitat);
  • Introduce someone new to the magic of birds and birding -- especially kids;
  • Support local conservation initiatives taking place at the community level;
  • Reduce consumption and waste wherever and whenever feasible -- use less plastic;
  • Don't be overwhelmed that it all has to happen all at once -- every step in a positive direction is positive . . . simple steps can become habits;
  • Click here for a more exhaustive list, not only to help the birds but to generally be better stewards of our planet . . . as has been said, "There is no Plan B."

Birds Abound

Ring-necked Duck (background) and Lesser Scaup, or "bluebill" (foreground)

I'm finding it's easy to get spoiled working in my "field office." None of the critters I witnessed over the last couple days in the marsh are particularly rare. Thankfully in fact, they are all actually pretty common in and around Lake Erie marsh country depending on the season. That said these aren't ducks you witness waddling across the putting green or seagulls you see bickering over a French fry in a strip mall parking lot. For that reason alone, they are worth a share.

The two duck species above are both considered "divers," meaning they are heavily reliant on diving below the surface of the water to pursue and gather food -- most often fish. As opposed to "dabbling" ducks which tip and bob in shallow water (think mallards), the Ring-necked Duck and the Lesser Scaup are among those most comfortable in deeper, open water. Spring is our best opportunity for visits from these and similar species, as they migrate back into Canada (and beyond) to breed. These and another commonly confused Greater Scaup are great examples of the subtlety of nature. Ironically, it's the ringed bill of the "Ring-neck" that sets it most apart from the other two "bluebills." We'll get more into these specific species and divers in general as the waterfowl season approaches.

Greater Yellowlegs
If we have freshly exposed mud with intermittent puddles of skim water (e.g. "mudflats") in the marsh in spring or fall -- for example due to a managed draw down of water through pumping or a prolonged drought -- we are going to have Greater Yellowlegs. As with its shorter-billed relative of a shorter stature (the Lesser Yellowlegs), this energetic shorebird (another informal grouping like diving ducks) is a pleasure to watch.

Yellowlegs are known both for seeking food in the mud at an almost frantic pace, and their shrill call is equally recognizable. They typically probe the shallows using their long bill to catch insects and crustaceans of many makes and models, but it appears the one on the right may have stumbled into a finned friend. Call him an opportunist, I guess.

One of my recent memories of this bird ties back to the dike rehab project we did last summer. Shorebirds were making their way back to us, and I got a major kick out of watching my then 10-year-old daughter patiently chase a Yellowlegs down the newly graded dike. At over 5' tall, my daughter may have found a kindred spirit.


These Bonaparte's Gulls are another species that can congregate in huge numbers at certain times of the year on and around Lake Erie. It's not unheard of to see 100,000+ of these elegant fliers all at once in November. (Think in terms of a packed "Big House" in Ann Arbor or "Horseshoe" in Columbus . . . that's a lot of gulls!)

Spring groupings are typically considerably smaller. I peeked in on 10-15 still in their winter plumage. I loved that they were happy to loaf on old, decaying loosestrife root balls. Their dark ear spot is replaced by an all-black head by summer, so it's easy to mistake the two color phases as separate species. Either way, they are striking.