Bird Feeder News (not fake)

Oh yes. This was yesterday's morning, marked by yet another snow-storm; courtesy of the late January Pacific storm system that sent the humid air over the Coast Mountains all the way to the foothills of the Rockies.


The day after?
Plus 4 Celsius and water dripping everywhere.

Well, it is winter in the Kootenays; 
sometimes dark and depressing (take that vitamin D time, fight the SAD syndrome, make a mug of tea and hibernate).
At other times - drive up to the mountains and ski or soak the bones in the hot springs.

Or watch the birds at the feeder.



The birds are not too fond of the slushy snow either. The heavy avalanches that fall off the branches scare them; they are not sure what's going on. Even the Northern Flickers take a cautious approach before visiting the bird feeder.

And a little Red-breasted Nuthatch just flies in, spends a few seconds 
grabbing a bit of suet and then frantically flies away.

So do the Redpolls. 
Absent last year, they made an appearance in December. There are hundreds of them but surprisingly there are no Pine Siskins with them. Not this year. Not a single one. And the very same applies to American Goldfinches.

Why?

The ever cheerful Black-capped Chickadees
are here but not too many and not every day.













The same applies to the Steller's Jays. They show up nearly every day thanks to their supply of peanuts but again, once in a while they disappear into the woods without a trace.


So do the Juncos and the lonely Song Sparrow.

What's happening?
Could it be that all the wildfires changed the established rules and travel routes?
















Could it be that this hunter, who snuck about until the end of November scared them away? Possibly. The Sharp-shinned Hawk can do that. But November is already 2 months away. We have not seen him since.

So how about this one? The Northern Pygmy Owl was here only once (as far as I know) but the birds simply disappeared for an entire week. No wonder - this is a fierce hunter and it works during the day.

This time the birds were off the hook - the owl heard a mouse squeaking and it was so intent on on locating it that it could not care less about my presence. That is a really neat story - for another time.

Hibernaculum (The Snake Den)

A what?

Hi-ber-na-cu-lum.

Two Garter Snakes and a skin of the third one on their departure from a winter's den. Snakes have no hearing but they sense vibrations.

A hibernaculum (plural hibernacula)  
The word originates in Latin, meaning "a tent for winter quarters"; a place in which a creature seeks refuge, such as a bear using a cave to overwinter.Check it out at Wikipedia

It is somewhat like my house in the winter - I crawl in, fire the woodstove and refuse to go out. 
I know, shame on me! 
But, when the snow piles high and the house is warm and the bed is cozy ... well, that is my hibernaculum from January until the late, late March. 

Could I go skiing. Or snowshoeing. Or snowmobiling .... ???

Well, I am sorry, I pride myself on being well synchronized with Nature! 
And ... how many animals bears or bats or reptiles have you seen skiing, I ask!
None!
They, like I, are wisely tucked in their hibernacula - the underground burrows, crevices in rocky outcrops, caves and other cavities placed well below the frost line where the temperatures hover in an acceptable range. It is all about survival until the Spring returns! 
You see? 


For years I only read about such arrangements well known in the animal world. 
But about 3 years ago, I finally discovered "my own" snake hibernacula, and yes, it is the plural!
There were 2 sites and both belonged to the Garter Snakes of Southern British Columbia.(Spp. Thamnopsis)

Please do not kill garter snakes in your garden.
They are not poisonous and they are extremely useful to all.

For those who want to read more about these, often misunderstood reptiles of British Columbia, there is a wonderful website:
http://www.bcreptiles.ca

If you check it out, you will discover that there are several species of Garter Snakes and that there identification is somewhat confusing. But they all belong to the same family.

The very first snake den I found was in the low-lands of  Creston Valley, BC. 
It was the end of April, the time of awakening in the swamps by Creston Wildlife Centre.

The holes in the bank are entrances into the den.

I was photographing cliff swallows nesting under an old bridge that spans the river. The bank was very steep and dry and extremely hard to negotiate.
As I was sliding down on my butt, backpack with the camera on my back and tripod in my hand (There MUST be a better way to do this!), something moved in the clay that was crumbling underneath my clumsy feet. It was hard to spot at first because it was so well camouflaged against the dirt and the dry grasses of the bank. A garter snake!
It swiftly slithered towards one of the holes that dotted the bank and disappeared into the darkness of a tunnel leading somewhere deep and underneath the highway above.

It did not occur to me at once (duh) that the place could actually harbor more than one snake....many, many more than one!




Down I continued, finding the swallows and dreading the thought of clawing my way back up. 

The snakes, meanwhile, decided that all was clear and slithered back out to bask and warm up on the bank. 
Did I mention the it was the South-facing side and that it was a warm and sunny afternoon? 

Contemplating the best approach to my ascent I stood motionless eyeing the steep slope in front of my very face.
And then I finally saw it. I was staring straight at a pretty large motionless snake. And not far from it,  one, two ... smaller snakes could be seen. And another! They seemed to be drawn toward the large one. The female. 

Snakes are not slimy. Their skin is smooth and dry

As I tried to set up my equipment they took off into the safety of their den. But after I scrambled up the bank and all was quiet they cautiously re-appeared.

A year later, in early May, I went back to the place. 
And yes! The snakes were there. Which means that they used their denning site, their hibernaculum, again (and again as they have done many times before).

This time, some were already shedding their skins.

Like most reptiles snakes molt several times per season. They shed their skins all at once rather than scraping off just  small pieces. 

When a snake is about to molt it looses interest in food. Its eyes cloud over, indicating that new tissue is forming underneath the old. Until its eyes clear, several days before molt, the snake stays in hiding. Then it begins to move about, rubbing its jaws and snout against rough surfaces. Normally the skin on the head pulls away first. 
Then the snake winds its way through rock crevices or brush, causing the skin to be pulled away inside-out.

Den Site # 2:

One month later, in early June, I happen to kayak a small mountain lake in Selkirk mountains some hundred km from the Creston Lowlands.
Penstemon and wild Bog Orchids just started bloom and the rocky outcrops by the far side of the lake were covered in bright colours. 
Of course I got out of the kayak to photograph the beauty of it all.
But the wind was blowing hard and it took some patience  to snap a photo. 

Oh, how I cursed that wind!


I shouldn't have!

The wind made me stand still, very still.

And in a while, there was another sort of movement.

Slow, cautious, inquiring.

A beautiful garter snake came out of the depths of the rocky outcrop.
It was trying to figure me out for a long while. But then I shifted my weight and the snake took off.

So sorry to see it go I was going to pack up. But then - a few meters away I noticed another one.
How could that be? It is already June and the snakes are out of their dens.

But this is not a lowland - we are over 1000 meters up!

Soon after they started to come out in numbers!


Another hibernaculum discovered!

Some have already shed their old skins, some, somewhat slow and docile showed the clouded eyes as the new tissues formed under the old skin. And so we spent some time together, the snakes and I, not disturbing each other, 

I, taking the photos, they, changing their skins and preparing for their mating season. 

The large females will give birth to their live offspring and everyone will disperse. They will travel wide and far to make a living catching fish and amphibians and small creatures like bugs and mice. Or chipmunks. Find some bird eggs or their young. 

That's what the snakes do.

They will hide from owls and hawks, the foxes and coyotes, from humans and their pets and cars. 

And when the weather turns cold, the surviving ones will swim and slither back to their rocky outcrop on the lake, by the bridge or under the greenhouse in someone's garden, to hibernate. 

These two will shed their skins soon. Have a look at their eyes, they are cloudy.

 I assume that the smaller one is a male, the large one a female.

Life Behind Bars & A Case of Severe Winter Blues

It seems that everyone had something to say about the last winter. 
Too cold. 
Too much snow.. 
Too long ...

Wonderful....
Great skiing ...Expensive though....
Hard to drive .....
Gloomy.....

Whatever.

For me it was a cloudy, cheerless winter behind bars. 
All kinds of them. 
It must have been the same for the birds and other animals.
Nobody but a couple of brave flickers showed up. The yard, usually dotted by animal tracks slept soundly under a thick blanket of snow. So did the bird feeder; perched there, on the top of the patio like a white ghost, the seeds going to waste.

It seemed that the only fun could be doing some macro of the snow and frost.
This is the window of our camper - from the inside! If only I washed it in the Fall.

Frost on the patio railing - basically the top of the fluffy snow after a very cold night. I discovered that I am not brave enough for winter photography! Stacking old lenses in reverse to get an extreme macro is fun - in the warmth of a study, not on a frozen patio. Oh, crybaby!

But, finally, the sun cleared the low winter horizon. 

And icicles begun to melt, turning to a more acceptable state. To me at the least. 

No more bars, life is back the grass will spring and the birds too, will soon return.

And it won't take long for us to complain about the weather being ...

... well ... too hot ... too mucky....too ...you know.

Two COYOTES and One MEADOW VOLE

"Three Is Company!" 

Really? Let's see.

It is the end of January.
Most of British Columbia is covered by snow and the temperatures are well below zero Celsius.

Pacing the hard crust of the snow-covered meadow there is a lonely coyote. Its empty stomach is growling the hunger song.

That's ONE.






But the seemingly lonely coyote is not alone!


Underneath the white blanket of hard snow grow grasses and many other plants. And hidden among the roots are grubs, bugs and all kinds of other edibles - perhaps not yummy to us but definitely tasty to an army of mice and voles. Their tunnels and travel trails, well covered and insulated by the snow, have transformed the meadow into a secret maze.




Much is going on underneath that cold, shimmering cover.

And the coyote knows it.

Its super sensitive ears, its nose and the sharp eyes allow it to sense what and where is going on under there. It has spied a sign of life, warm-blooded life, a busy mouse or a distracted meadow vole. That could appease its empty stomach!

The coyote knows exactly what to do! Listen, pounce, dig, grab, toss! Be fast!



Now there are TWO. Coyote and a Meadow Vole.

The vole knows that it is in trouble. It bites and it tries to dig under the snow and it nearly succeeds. But the crust is just too hard and the coyote too hungry and too powerful. The vole finds itself being grabbed by the tail and, over and over again, tossed up into the air. 

Did they not tell us all NOT TO PLAY WITH FOOD?!?
But this is not a game.

It is an effort not to get hurt by the sharp little teeth and the already bleeding vole is loosing its stamina to fight. But just as the coyote seems to be ready for lunch there is another, larger animal, charging onto the scene.

THREE is company!

The vole is allowed to fall and so is the first coyote's tail. That looks like a sign of submission, 

The second one rushes forward, grabs the rodent and ....the game is ending.

 The vole is on its journey to become a coyote!

Now there are only TWO.

They part their ways leaving us with ONE. After a while it too walks away.

The meadows are silent, the dusk is setting in and the temperature is crawling to minus ten.

One fed, one hungry, one dead. Three was a company. If only for a very short while.

It is end of January, the beginning of the coyote mating season (February - April). We could not tell if the two animals were of the same or opposite sex and/or if their behavior was somehow related to the season.Two days after our sighting we saw another pair in a different location. 

The Limping GOOSE and an Angry MUSKRAT

One late October evening, I sat at the edge of Kootenay River, observing geese and ducks preening their feathers for the last time of that day. One of the geese, I noticed, was badly limping.

"A coyote got you," I though, "luckily not quite... better be more careful next time!" With that I said good night and went home.

A couple days later I returned, hoping that this time I might get a glimpse of the coyote as well. But then I got distracted by something else. Next to the river's edge is a small pond. It is quite shallow, a swampy body of water, overgrown by aquatic plants and reeds. And in that pond (or swamp) lives a small and fearless creature who taught me a neat lesson that I will attempt to convey:

The master and a hero of the swampy pond is a furry muscrat (Ondatra zibethicus).

The name is hardly suitable for a brave creature like him. 
(I have no idea if it is he or she so I will say "him").
For he is not a rat! He is a ....well ... a rodent, related to mice but he is not as insignificantly tiny as a mouse or even a rat! He can weigh a kilo and a half!
AND, he is amphibious, OK? So give him a break with that "rat" thing!

The "musk" in the muskrat is justified though. He produces this amazingly wonderful perfume to let his female friends know that he is ready for a date AND to let his male competitors know that this is HIS territory.



They might not like his advertising and show up anyway - to pick up a vicious fight to see if they can drive him away.

Not so easy!

But the ladies like him and produce their own musky perfume to let him know that. So at the end all his patrolling and fighting might prove to be worth the while.

If all works well, the muskrat builds a lodge, a castle for the family! It piles reeds in the shallow water and then, diving underneath it gnaws and scratches away the debris and mud until there is a nice and safe underwater entry-way leading into a beautifully dry living room that is located just above the water level. 
And all that is safely covered by the reeds and mud. 

A lot of hard, hard work!



There, in safety and the warmth, the young muskrats are born.


Thinking of all that work and worry, it is no wonder that the muskrat patrols its territory with an utmost care.
Dare to come closer to see for yourself!
That smudge of a creature swimming by the feeding platform is our brave muskrat and as you can see he is on a mission!

A small group of Canada geese just decided to explore his pond.

The muskrat wastes no time in taking off! 

He must show them whose swamp that is! He is fast and furious and the geese seem to understand that. They all swim for the safety of the shore. But swimming is not fast enough; they must take to wing. That's how fast he can swim, his long flat tail serving as a propeller and a rudder at the same time.

The have reached the shore in time. Almost all of them, except for one. 
He furiously snaps at the bird's leg, just as the goose is lifting off, missing by only millimeters, his furry body half way out of the water as he is trying to snap madly at the unwelcome guest. 

I am at awe. 

A limping goose!

And a coyote?

Not so. 

By the time I am able to process my thoughts, the geese are flying away and the muskrat, all adrenaline, is celebrating in the middle of the pond. 
He just sits there, tail up in victory, watching, listening, smelling ..... looking at ME.

And I am just happy to watch him from the safety of a high, sturdy bank.

Happy WINTER SOLSTICE 2016

Tiny Treasures: SWEAT BEE and VIRESCENT GREEN BEE

It was a hot sunny August day when this little Sweat Bee landed on my arm. 
It was only a couple millimeters long, but what it lacked in size, it boasted in colors. 
It took to a puddle of sugar water (a hummingbird treat that had spilled out onto a stone) giving me a few precious minutes to photograph it.

The red ball is the head of a sewing pin, just to show a comparison in size.

 The bee does not seem to be too impressed by it.

"Keep that thing away from me, will you?"

Another little gem appeared about 3 weeks later.  
A Virescent Green Bee has been in our garden on several occasions, usually looking for nectar or pollen in the squash patch or on the sunflowers.

The metallic bees belong to a large group called Halictid Bees; small, usually solitary bees who build their nests in the ground.



It may take a long a long time for a person to notice their presence but once found they seem to be re-appearing year after year. 
That probably because there is such a huge difference between looking and seeing.