April Showers

 

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Happy Spring, everyone!

Sky Berries and Castle Kisses

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Every year, my fruit trees provide food for Ruffed Grouse, a bird that is most abundant in aspen forests, but which seem to like my neck of the woods just fine. Birch, conifers, cedars, and alder thickets make up a good portion of the forest nearby, while crabapple trees dot the landscape. 

I noticed Ruffed Grouse actively feeding in late January through mid-February, picking my front yard’s fruit trees clean. I also watched them feed on the catkins of a river birch on February 5th. In mid-February, six Ruffed Grouse fed from a fruit tree, the most I’ve ever observed in one location. I hope they’ve been able to find other sources of food since then, considering this year’s high snow totals. My neighborhood won’t see bare ground for weeks. 

When forest logs are sufficiently free of snow, drumming should commence. On April 5th and May 5th, upcoming full moon dates, my chances of hearing the males drumming might increase, although it’s highly unlikely the woods will be clear of snow on the earlier date; but I’ve marked my calendar because there is some evidence Ruffed Grouse prefer full-moon drumming. 

Ruffed Grouse feeding on River Birch catkins, Feb. 5, 2023.

My journal entry showing found Ruffed Grouse feathers.

References
Archibald, Herbert L. “Spring Drumming Patterns of Ruffed Grouse.” The Auk, vol. 93, no. 4, 1976, pp. 808–29. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4085007. Accessed 22 Mar. 2023.

Kling, George W., et al. “Ecological Vulnerability to Climate Change: Terrestrial Ecosystems.” Confronting Climate Change in the Great Lakes Region: Impacts on Our Communities and Ecosystems, Union of Concerned Scientists, 2003, pp. 57–66. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/resrep00033.11. Accessed 22 Mar. 2023.

Boreal, Among the Lichen

 

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

    This is a painting of a Boreal Chickadee as seen in Sax-Zim Bog recently. I spent time in two locations hoping to see this bird, and was rewarded. When it comes to birding, patience can be the thing that is tested the most. At the second location I visited, I heard its call. That’s when I knew for certain there have been Boreal Chickadees at my home in Duluth, it’s just that I haven’t seen them yet. A year or two ago, I heard the same call that I heard from the Boreal Chickadee in the Bog. Their call is described as sounding like a Black-capped Chickadee with laryngitis. Next time I hear them at my home, I will pay closer attention. 

    This particular Boreal Chickadee was bouncing around a tamarack tree containing lichen (pronounced “liken”). Lichens are hardy organisms, both algae and fungi, and can survive our frigid winter weather. To me, lichens add interest and color to trees; but of course, trees are great all on their own, too.

Chasing Angostura

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

    Ring-necked Pheasants could be considered a bird with extreme sexual selection, a trait whereby one sex will exhibit behavioral displays or physical characteristics to attract a mate. Males differ widely from the females in color and size. They are extraordinarily colorful compared to the brown females and have much longer tails. 

    Ring-necked Pheasants were introduced into North America from China around 1880. In Minnesota, they were successfully introduced in 1916 and live in the southern half of the state. They survive in grassland and wetland areas, compete with native grouse and are known to parasitize the nests of many species. 

    Pheasant hunting is a well established tradition in many parts of the country, contributing millions of dollars in revenue.

Swans at Crex Meadows

 Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

An October visit to Crex Meadows in Grantsburg, Wisconsin, was the inspiration for this painting. The gray-brown swan in the forefront is a juvenile.

The Reformers

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

There are some images that have stuck with me over the years, ones that I’ve had in my collection for a very long time but haven’t painted. I affectionately refer to them as “I wanna be a painting some day.” Well, these goslings have finally gotten their day in the sun. On May 24, 2011, these four youngsters were out for a stroll, exploring the world alongside Mom and Dad and five additional brothers and sisters. I found these four particularly interesting because they were just a bit outside of the main group. To me, they exhibited more independence, curiosity, and confidence than the others.

I hope you're enjoying the holidays. Happy New Year everyone.

Orbiting the Desdemona

 

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Each fall, I look forward to Nashville Warblers parading through my front yard, heading south during migration. Whether they land on the highbush cranberries, dogwoods, alders, goldenrods, or in this case a ligularia, they are a joy to watch. Bouncing from branch to branch, they radiate happiness whenever I see them.

International Miniature Exhibition

Three miniature oil paintings on exhibit.

89th Annual Exhibition of Fine Art in Miniature
The Miniature Painters, Sculptors & Gravers Society
of Washington, D.C. (MPSGS)

The Mansion at Strathmore

10701 Rockville Pike
North Bethesda, MD 20852

 

Exhibition – Nov. 19, 2022 thru Jan. 7, 2023

Unwinding on the Scotch

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Here is a small painting of an Eastern Kingbird. These birds can be found throughout the United States, and I have seen these birds in open areas of grasslands and wetlands in Minnesota and Wisconsin. They perch on many things including fencing wire, tree branches and logs that stick out of the water. This particular kingbird was perched on a Scotch pine in a grassland area, taking a break to preen in between catching bugs on the fly. Its neighbors were Bobolinks, Cowbirds, Common Grackles, Red-winged Blackbirds, Magpies, and Savannah Sparrows.

Its Latin name is Tyrannus tyrannus, well-deserved because it will defend its territory against much larger-sized birds. The Eastern Kingbird is a long-distance migrant, now heading to its wintering grounds of South America.

Teacher of the Forest

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

The Ovenbird is just one of those birds. It’s got character, a loud voice, and means business when it comes to hunting arthropods on the forest floor. When I hear Ovenbirds calling from somewhere, somewhere out there in the deep forest, my life is richer for it. Similar to seeing Robins return in the springtime, there’s just something about hearing an Ovenbird shouting “teacher, teacher, teacher, teacher” somewhere. Out there. Where few choose to go. 

I tell my mother that this is her favorite bird, although she would probably disagree. I speculate the Cardinal is really her favorite, but no. I tell her, and insist, the Teacher Bird is her favorite. For my Mom was a teacher, and what teacher would begrudge a bird whose song is “teacher, teacher, teacher, teacher”? The very song of this bird delegates it to superiority over all others. That is if you’re a teacher. This bird’s for you, Mom.

Bug Hunt on Rib Mountain

 Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Yellow-throated Vireos are another bird that sings antiphonally, but when I saw this bird late summer last year at Rib Mountain State Park in Wausau, WI, it wasn’t singing. It was looking for bugs, silently hopping from branch to branch. Seeing this bird was an unexpected surprise, and getting close-up photos was even better. Visiting state parks or wildlife management areas is one of my favorite things to do no matter where I am. It costs $35 a year for a state park sticker in Minnesota, making it one of the most affordable getaways to be had. Park maps guide visitors to trails worthy of exploration, birding, and new adventures. State parks are treasures that I’m thankful exist in our country, places I don’t take for granted.

Reference

Doyle, Diana. "Do Eastern Whip-poor-wills Sing Antiphonally?" Birding, vol. 50, no. 1, Feb. 2018, pp 36-43.

 

Grackle on the Pine Shuffle

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Common Grackles exhibit a rare phenomenon called antiphonal singing. Of all the bird species in the world (around 10,000), only about 400 are known to have this trait. What does it mean for a bird to sing antiphonally? 

Typically occurring between males and females, one will start singing its song and the other will finish it. Most often, the female is the one that answers. There are several hypotheses as to why this behavior exists. One is to simply let the other bird know of its presence. Another reason may be to strengthen, or commit to, a relationship. Could the bond be so strong that one finishes the other’s sentence? After all, most duetting pairs are established, not birds that are out on their first date. ;)

A third possible reason for birds to sing in duet may be to stave off EPCs. Extra-pair copulations happen frequently in the bird world, and by letting another bird know just how committed the relationship is may prevent an intruder from trying his/her luck. 

Lastly, a duet may point to territorial defense when announcing to a rival “This is our property, find your own!” You know, that sort of thing.

Now you know all about antiphonal singing amongst birds, albeit in a highly condensed fashion. For a more in-depth analysis, visit the reference cited below. Thanks for your time and I hope you are enjoying the last weeks of summer.

Reference

Doyle, Diana. "Do Eastern Whip-poor-wills Sing Antiphonally?" Birding, vol. 50, no. 1, Feb. 2018, pp 36-43.

 

Those Hypnotic Blues of Mosquito Hill

Oil on Belgian Linen Board - 18 x 24 inches

Indigo Buntings surprise me every now and then. They’re not a bird I see or hear very often near my home, and this one was no exception. Mosquito Hill Nature Center in New London, Wisconsin, provided an unexpected and close-up sighting of this bird at a time in my life when it couldn’t have been more welcome.

A Sweeter Smile

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Since moving to my home eight years ago, two species of birds bred in my yard/neighborhood this summer for the first time that I noticed. One was the Red-bellied Woodpecker, the other a Great-crested Flycatcher. 

The flycatcher that I painted (shown above) was photographed in Moose Lake State Park, Minnesota, on May 15, 2022, but I took photos of an adult feeding a juvenile atop my garden fence just a little over two weeks ago. That adult may have been the same one I witnessed searching for a nesting site this past spring on May 27th. 

Great-crested Flycatchers. Adult feeding juvenile
atop my garden fence on July 29, 2022.

Great-crested Flycatchers are fun to watch while snapping up bugs from tree branches in open areas of the forest. Unlike other species that hide in dense canopy or forage in leaf litter, these birds often allow for great visualization opportunities. In addition, they commonly announce their presence with fairly loud “wheep” calls, so you’ll most likely hear one before you see one. Once their voices are learned, they’re a species that’s hard to ignore. 

A couple of interesting fact about this bird that I particularly like are the following. They are the only Eastern flycatcher that nests in a cavity; and they weave snake skins into their nests when readily available.

On a side note, thank you to all who attended the opening receptions on August 5th at MacRostie Art Center in Grand Rapids and Edge Center Arts in Bigfork, Minnesota. I was able to make both shows with a pre-determined driving schedule, but unfortunately couldn’t be at two places at once for the awards ceremonies. I enjoyed meeting artists and attendees, and was very pleased that a couple of my paintings had their day in the sun. Both shows are open for a little while longer, I hope you can visit the galleries if you get a chance.

MacRostie's 30th Annual Juried Exhibition

MacRostie Art Center's 30th Annual Juried Exhibition

August 5 - September 30, 2022

MacRostie Art Center

405 NW 1st Avenue

Grand Rapids, MN 55744

218-326-2697

Art on the Edge, 16th Annual Juried Art Exhibit

Art on the Edge: 16th Annual Juried Art Exhibit

August 4 - August 27, 2022

The Edge Gallery

101 2nd Avenue

Bigfork, MN 56628

218-743-6670

Showing "Mirador" and 
"The Kingfisher and the Unquiet Willow", first time showing!

The exhibition is free and open to all.

April's Bounty

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Rhynchokinesis. Now there’s a word you don’t see every day. When learning about the American Woodcock, the bird depicted in my latest painting above, rhynchokinesis was an attribute of this bird. What is rhyncho- (pronounced rink-oh) kinesis? It’s the ability of some birds to turn their upper mandible upward as they probe for food. For a couple of days, I watched this American Woodcock hunt for worms in my front yard during this year’s snowy April. Little did I know rhynchokinesis was a characteristic of beaks, let alone a thing. Yep, it’s a thing. 

So, there’s your geeked-out, bird word for the day. Not that you asked for it, he he, but throw that word around a few times and you might raise some eyebrows. The curious ones will want to know more. 

Another interesting tidbit of the woodcock is that the male plays no part in rearing its young. Typically, four eggs are laid by the female, and the male has nothing to do with his offspring other than breeding with the female. Does the song “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” by Paul Simon come to mind? 

You just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don’t need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don’t need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free 

Additional traits of this bird, perhaps a bit more famous, include its courtship display and its boogie. Hoping to catch the eye of a female, the male will launch 50-300 feet into the air (that’s a wide range, but my research found all sorts of numbers) before zig-zagging back down to the ground where it struts its stuff like a miniature turkey. I have never seen this display in person, but it happens at dusk in the springtime and can continue into the night. Maybe one day I’ll be lucky enough to see it. 

Its boogie has an entirely different meaning. When hunting for worms, the American Woodcock rocks its whole body back and forth, as if it doesn’t know whether to take a step forward or backward. It’s suspected that this motion may cause earthworms below to blow their cover and become dinner. For us humans, that’s hard to imagine, but let me try. One earthworm weighs approximately 0.008 ounces, and a woodcock weighs close to 10 ounces. That means woodcocks can weigh up to 1,250 times that of an earthworm. Can an earthworm, lying just millimeters beneath the ground’s surface, feel a 10 ounce earthquake? Thinking about it another way, 1,250 times my weight is about the weight of the ol' space shuttle when empty. Would I hear that, or its vibration, coming my way? I think I would. 

Seeing the woodcock for the first time, and in my front yard nonetheless, was thrilling. It’s one of those birds I thought I’d never see without having to take a special trip somewhere. American Woodcocks are the only woodcock species found in North America; seven other species can be found throughout Eurasia, China, the Philippines, New Guinea, and Indonesia.

In other nature news, Northern Flickers are calling alongside cicadas during these hot July days, and thistle has flowered pink. Swamp milkweed has matured in the ditch, topped with pink blossoms by the mailbox. Valerian is abundant, white and huge. Mulberries, juneberries and currants are ripe, and black elderberries are in full bloom. Wild raspberries and blackberries will arrive shortly. Soon, goldenrod will be the star of the show.

Backyard birds hanging around include Common Grackles, Red-winged Blackbirds, Downy, Red-bellied, Hairy and Pileated Woodpeckers, Red and White-breasted Nuthatches, Northern Flickers, Rock Pigeons, American Robins and Crows, Blue Jays, Black-capped Chickadees, Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, Purple Finches, American Goldfinches, House Wrens, Chipping Sparrows, Common Yellowthroats, Mourning Doves and Song Sparrows. A Gray Catbird sings infrequently from across the street. Deeper in the forest, Chestnut-sided Warblers, Red-eyed Vireos, Veeries, and American Redstarts are common. Occasional Broad-winged Hawks, White-throated Sparrows and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks make appearances, and the Mallard hen can be seen with her babies, but she’s mostly secretive. 

I hope you’re all enjoying summer and the birds in your neck of the woods. Thank you for taking a moment of your time.

References

Arlott, N., Van Perlo, B., Rodriguez Mata, J., Carrizo, G., Chiappe, A, Huber, L. (2021). The Complete Birds of the World. Princeton University Press, p. 106.

Cassidy J., & Scheffel, R. (1990). Book of North American Birds. The Reader's Digest Association, Inc., p. 480.

Information from the All About Birds website, https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/American_Woodcock © Cornell Lab of Ornithology. Retrieved July 22, 2022.

Information from the Audubon website, https://www.audubon.org/news/10-fun-facts-about-american-woodcock. Retrieved July 22, 2022.

Information from the HowtoPronounce Pronunciation Dictionary. https://www.howtopronounce.com/rhynchokinesis. Retrieved July 22, 2022.

Information from the Songfacts website, https://www.songfacts.com/lyrics/paul-simon/50-ways-to-leave-your-lover. Retrieved July 22, 2022.

Kricher, John. Peterson Reference Guide to Bird Behavior. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, New York, 2020, pp. 63, 231.

Mahnken, Jan. (1989). Hosting the Birds. Storey Communications, Inc., p. 118.

Vanner, Michael. (2003). The Encyclopedia of North American Birds. Barns & Noble Inc., p. 149.

House Wren On the Go

Oil on Panel - 4 x 4 inches

This year seems to be moving fast. At least for me. One of my latest paintings shown above is a House Wren popping out of its birdhouse after feeding its young. I have two birdhouses for wrens, one near my garden and the other closer to my home. Each year, one pair produces two broods and they utilize both bird houses. I love to cheer them on when they're flying bugs to their babies.

Winter dragged into spring and summer's here. When spring rolled around, tree planting was in full swing over Memorial Day weekend. It’s been an annual event since 2015. One of my favorites this year is the mulberry tree. It has grown from a twig to around four feet tall, and already has berries. Other trees that were planted include jack pines, oaks, maples, and more. Compared to last year's drought, this year’s rain has been steady and welcomed, but when it doesn’t rain for a while, I haul around 40 gallons of water using my yellow wheelbarrow to keep the saplings well nourished. It takes several trips to quench their thirst in one outing; most days I don’t mind the chore. I’ve heard it’s hard to over-water a young tree. So far, that’s been the best advice I’ve ever received concerning successful tree planting, besides protecting them from deer-browse. 

As for the birds, there’s always something exciting going on. I saw my first Snowy Owl on January 15th of this year. (I know, I know, I should've seen one by now.... !!). Anyway, I finally got photos of one up in Sax-Zim Bog. Yeah, I'm a little embarrassed, but as they say, better late than never.

Snowy Owl. Photo 1/15/2022. Sax-Zim Bog, MN

Closer to home, a few new species were added to my yard list. A White-winged Crossbill sang beautifully atop my spruce tree in the early dawn on January 24th. Because I didn’t recognize its song, it got my attention. And if I hadn’t heard it singing, I never would’ve looked up to the tippy-top of that spruce. In fact, its song was the main identification factor that helped me differentiate it from the Red Crossbill because my photos were too dark to see anything but an outline. Photo-editing software helped lighten up my picture and identify it as a male, but there wasn’t enough detail to differentiate between the White-winged or Red Crossbill. Only its song did that. 

Male White-winged Crossbill. 1/24/2022, Duluth home, MN

Spring migration brought an American Woodcock, another yard list first. It was spotted on April 6th when there were still several feet of snow on the ground. It probed for insects with its long bill and pulled up worm after worm, finding lots of food in my south-facing front yard where snow was thin. I found it mesmerizing and watched it for hours, even late into the night on one occasion. It fed until at least 11 pm before I got tired and went to bed. It stayed for a couple of days.

American Woodcock with a worm in its beak.
Photo 4/6/2022, Duluth home, MN

Male and female Blue-winged Teals were spotted on the pond May 9th. They palled around a male Mallard, as if they were friends. The teals didn’t stay longer than an hour or two. Most ducks, except for Mallards, stay less than 24 hours before moving on. 

Male/female Blue-winged Teals with Mallard.
Photo 5/9/2022, Duluth home, MN

A female, White-winged Crossbill visited on April 17th and enjoyed seeds from a heavy crop of spruce cones. It was a banner year for spruce cones, they were all over my yard. She fed for several hours on the ground, gorging on seeds. 

Female White-winged Crossbill.
Photo 4/17/2022, Duluth home, MN

An Eastern Towhee was spotted on May 9th, another yard list first. 

Eastern Towhee. Photo 5/9/2022, Duluth home, MN

Two weeks later on May 25th, I photographed a Connecticut Warbler well hidden in deciduous trees on a calm, overcast morning at 8:40 am. It was just about to rain. It’s the second time this bird’s song has led me to a sighting at my home. The first time was May 24th, 2017, when it was singing from a mix of pines and deciduous trees. 

Connecticut Warbler. Photo 5/25/2022, Duluth home, MN

May 20th and June 9th brought extra-special sightings of a hungry river otter to our pond. My husband, Terry, first noticed it on May 20th. When it came back on June 9th, assuming it was the same one, I sat nearby and watched it. Eventually, it noticed me and swam over to take a look. From 8:23 to 8:27 pm, that otter’s eyes were locked on me hard. I felt a little strange, slightly uncomfortable, but when it got bored with me, it went back to hunting. A water specialist, it brought several prey up to the surface to eat, probably frogs.

River Otter. Photos 6/9/2022, Duluth home, MN

A storm toppled a tree sometime overnight on May 30th. The morning of May 31st, I photographed seven Wood Ducks perched on it. Perhaps that tree provided the perfect reprieve for those storm-weathered gents. 

Seven male Wood Ducks. Photo 5/31/2022, Duluth home, MN

Currently, there are lots of baby birds around. Last night, Downy Woodpeckers, House Wrens, White-breasted Nuthatches, and Red-bellied Woodpeckers were all feeding their young at dusk. Juvenile Common Grackles have been abundant at my feeders, as well as Red-winged Blackbirds. As I write this, Black-capped Chickadees are high up in a birch tree feeding their young.

 

Father (lower) feeding son (above), Downy Woodpeckers.
Photo 7/5/2022, Duluth home, MN

Northern Waterthrush. Photo 5/15/2022, Moose Lake State Park, MN

Male Scarlet Tanager. Photo 5/22/2022, Carley State Park, MN

 

Juvenile Tree Swallow. Photo 7/4/2022, Western Waterfront Trail, Duluth, MN

The first half of 2022 has brought thrilling wildlife sightings my way, many of which I didn't include out of fear of writing too long of a blog entry. Stay tuned for more postings, I've been a little behind this year. A couple of finished paintings are waiting in the wings, so there are more to come soon. Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. I hope you are enjoying the wildlife in your neck of the woods. Don’t forget to check out an art show or two this summer. Be well, everyone.

Superior Reflections

 

Oil on Textured Linen Panel - 12 x 24 inches

Rock Pigeon (Columba livia), Lake Superior, Duluth harbor

Of all the birds that have visited my yard, two stand out as being extremely reactive to my presence, almost always noticing when I stand at the window closest to my bird feeders. It doesn’t make a difference if my approach is slow and methodical, or sloth-like; even when I try to peek around the corner showing only my head and one eyeball, my cover is blown just about every time. These two species are the American Crow and the Rock Pigeon. For this writing, I will be focusing on the Rock Pigeon. 

For the first five years at my home, Rock Pigeons had never found the spoils of my feeders, even though they were breeding only blocks away atop buildings. Unbeknownst to me, my feeders were a well kept secret. That all changed on July 27, 2019 when I saw the first Rock Pigeons in my yard. 

Rock Pigeons thrive in urban developments, and my home is close enough to urbanization for me to know that once the pigeons found my home, they were here to stay. With each passing year, commercial buildings encroach ever closer to my neighborhood, overtaking residential homes and stamping out treed plots of land. It’s a stubborn, unmitigated and curious trend given that Duluth’s population is no bigger than it was at the beginning of the 20th century. But, urban sprawl is another topic for a different day. 

First, let me just say that I had an internal dialog with myself when pigeons discovered my feeders three years ago. I asked myself: Was I going to love ‘em or loathe ‘em? For me the answer was easy. I wasn’t going to loathe them. I was going to understand them. But if you’re wondering what you’d do, may I pose a question? At what point in life do you throw your stink eye at the negative and lean on the positive? Negative news is front and center these days, we all know it, but behind all that negativity, science is moving forward at breakneck speeds. And as it turns out, there’s a lot of positive news out there. All you have to do is look for it. Case in point: the Rock Pigeon! 

Remember not too long ago when the Covid pandemic took off? It was only 2020, although it seems like eons ago. Well that year, a behavioral study about Rock Pigeons, Columba livia – the same species that visits my yard – was published in the March edition of Learning & Behavior, a journal devoted to the experimental and theoretical contributions and critical reviews concerning fundamental processes of learning and behavior in nonhuman and human animals. The news was positive. 

Research from the Department of Psychological and Brain Sciences from The University of Iowa and Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, University of California, Los Angeles (Victor M. Navarro, Edward A. Wasserman, and Piotr Slomka) determined that Rock Pigeons are extremely good at recognizing what they see. Well, of course they are. Aren’t all birds really great at seeing? Most are, but there are some exceptions such as New Zealand’s flightless kiwi. Rock Pigeons, however, have excellent vision. They can tell the difference between extremely complex objects, pictures, and photos. Their vision allows them to pick out a Monet from a Picasso, differentiate letters of the alphabet, recognize human expressions, and discriminate between benign and cancerous human breast images. I saved the best for last there, did you catch that? But researchers already knew this stuff, which means you might have just learned a little bit of old news. Don’t feel bad, I just learned it, too. 

What this most recent study found, and in character with sorting out breast cancer images, researchers discovered that Rock Pigeons can also differentiate between healthy and diseased heart muscles. So, in addition to reading mammograms, they’ve also been taught how to read stress test scans of the heart. Pigeons as heart disease specialists? Now that’s something that doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. 

For a short explanation, a person is often given a stress test to determine if they have coronary heart disease. Pseudo-colorized images are then created to show how well blood flows, or doesn’t flow, throughout the body. A cardiologist reads those visual images to determine the presence of coronary blockages. Rock Pigeons were taught how to read those same images (myocardial perfusion single photon emission-computed tomography, or MPS) and were able to discern between a healthy heart and a diseased heart. And they were pretty darn good at it, too! 

Why is this important? To understand that, it’s helpful to know how reliable humans are at reading MPS scans. “The best achievable individual observer accuracy is about 86% and inter-observer agreement by Board-certified cardiology experts is about 87%” (quoted in Navarro, Wasserman & Slomka, 2020, p. 10). So, if you knew that your cardiologist was only 87% accurate in reading your MPS scan, there’s room for improvement, right? Hey, pigeons aren’t so bad after all. 

Now, just in case you’re imagining a pigeon standing next to your cardiologist in the doctor’s office interpreting your MPS test, I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen. So, here’s the meat and potatoes of the experiment. Because Rock Pigeons have a remarkable trait whereby they can extract information from extremely complex visual stimuli (superb visual cognition), pigeons may simply be able to see things better, or differently, than humans. Since medical science would like to improve upon doctors being able to successfully read coronary test results, Rock Pigeons may be able to help. Using pigeons’ models for scoring tests may “identify visual features that can improve both human and computer performance” (quoted in Navarro, Wasserman & Slomka, 2020, p. 10). 

Pigeons have adapted extremely well to our human environment and provide us with enormous learning potential to help our own species. “This bird may have no particular knack for medical diagnosis, yet its eye and brain endow it with sufficient perceptual and cognitive equipment to provide researchers with practical methods for assessing human and machine performance” (quoted in Navarro, Wasserman & Slomka, 2020, p. 19). 

I hope attitudes improve about pigeons, especially given their lowly reputations. To think differently about them may take a whole host of reasons to change public opinion. Self-reflection, i.e. asking ourselves why we feel the way we do, can also be helpful. Positive news and time wouldn’t hurt either. Providing arguments for consideration to help reconstruct our way of thinking occurs when each one of us learns and grows through knowledge.

The Eunice Kennedy Shriver National Institute of Child Health and Human Development of the National Institutes of Health provided support for the Rock Pigeon research cited below.

Reference

Navarro, V.M., Wasserman, E.A. & Slomka, P. Taking pigeons to heart: Birds proficiently diagnose human cardiac disease. Learn Behav 48, 9–21 (2020). https://doi.org/10.3758/s13420-020-00410-z

Evening Grosbeak

 

Oil on Artist's Panel - 5 x 7 inches

Once or twice a year, rarely more than that, Evening Grosbeaks travel through my neck of the woods. They parade my neighborhood in very small flocks, or family units. I’m glad for their calls or else I’d probably miss them. I almost always hear them first. They never stay long, sometimes a few minutes, sometimes an overnight, and sometimes a few days. Seeing these birds always reminds me how beautiful wildlife is and how empty my life would be without it.

This colorful male visited my hopper feeder for black oil sunflower seeds on May 9, 2021 just after 9 am, a very short visit.

Ballyhoo

 

16 x 12 inches, Oil on Belgian Linen Board

I saw this Great-horned Owl in my snowy woods on February 6th, 2020. When we locked eyes, I had less than three seconds to capture this image before it flew off to a different location. It wasn't surprised by me because I'm sure it saw me coming from a mile away, but I was definitely surprised by it.

Dickcissel at Blue Mounds

Oil on Artist's Panel - 4 x 4 inches

     This is an oil painting of a breeding male Dickcissel singing atop a wild plum at Blue Mounds State Park in Rock County, Minnesota. There was an abundance of Dickcissels this year, perhaps an irruptive year, and I had no trouble finding them even closer to home in June at Sax-Zim Bog. A drive along any country road with grassy ditches and open fields yielded good sounds and sightings. Their population levels are known to occasionally spike, and I have a suspicion this was one of those years. 

    Dickcissels are dependent upon grasslands for reproduction, and with so much of North America’s grasslands having turned to crops —mainly corn for ethanol— will the sound of the Dickcissel one day be a thing of the past? As mentioned below in my blog about Bobolinks who breed in the same areas as Dickcissels, it’s estimated less than 4% of the nation’s grasslands remain. The Dickcissel hasn’t suffered a 50% reduction in the last 50 years like some other grassland birds, but its decline has been severe and it’s listed as a species vulnerable to extinction. 

     As for this bird’s wintering range, almost all Dickcissels spend seven months of every year in Venezuela foraging on rice and sorghum. Many farmers in that country view Dickcissels as pests. Frequently shot, eaten or deliberately poisoned, the overall Dickcissel population struggles to return to pre-1966 levels. Fortunately, their numbers seem to have stabilized, albeit at a much lower number. 

     Depending how much reading and research is done on birds, being a bird lover these days can be downright depressing. On many fronts, the news is grim, especially when it comes to the declining numbers of birds on the whole with many at risk of extinction. This past summer, having experienced a high number of Dickcissels in my neck of the woods, it was a welcomed sight. I’ll take it. 

     On a side note, below is a photo of my buckthorn eradication efforts this fall. It isn't even close to the amount that needs to be removed, but every fall, I keep at it. Now in my fifth year of busting buckthorn, each year the piles get bigger. Sadly, control is mitigated without neighbors addressing their own property infestations. I’ve heard that’s not an uncommon scenario, but frustrating nonetheless. The pile has grown since the photo was taken, wink wink, yes I'm proud of my work. New gloves are purchased every year to stave off those dastardly thorns.

References

 

Bird Pop! Extra Rain Is Nothing for Dickcissels To Sing About. Nov. 12, 2020. https://www.birdpop.org/pages/blogPost.php?id=58. Accessed Oct. 25, 2021.

Carpenter, Tom. Treasures in the Grass. Minnesota Conservation Volunteer, July/August 2018, Vol. 81, No. 479.

Nickens, T. Edward. Vanishing Voices. National Wildlife (World Edition), 15455157, Oct/Nov2010, Vol. 48, Issue 6.

Temple, Stanley A. Dickcissel. Birds of the World.org. March 4, 2020. Text last updated January 1, 2002. https://birdsoftheworld.org/bow/species/dickci/cur/demography. Accessed Oct. 8, 2021.

Prairie Savannah

Oil on Artist's Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Here’s a small oil painting of a Savannah Sparrow near Sax-Zim Bog in northern Minnesota. Perched alongside the road on a barbed-wire fence in June, this bird sang frequently. Its buzzy, insect-like song indicated it was a male, and its song is associated with guarding its territory, courtship, and communication. I spent a long time observing this bird, and was perceptive of it becoming comfortable with my presence. Occasionally, it rested on one foot, the other tucked up into its body. Other times, it retreated to a nearby fence post to broadcast its song. 

Savannah Sparrows are part of a group of birds that produce “soft songs,” a trait found in almost half of the birds in North America. Meaning low amplitude, soft songs are used for a variety of reasons, such as defending one’s territory, courting, and signaling danger. For Savannah Sparrows, soft songs are associated with the highest level of aggression – an attack on a rival during a territorial dispute. 

In a study conducted by researchers from the University of Windsor and the University of Guelph in Ontario, Canada, it was determined that the most reliable predictor of an attack by a Savannah Sparrow were its soft songs. Compared to other signals of aggression such as wing waving, broadcast calls, or chip calls, territorial males, just prior to attack, sang significantly more soft songs than non-attackers. 

This begs the question: if I’m a bird, why wouldn’t I sing as loudly as I could to let my competitor know I mean business? The answer may lie directly in the bird’s physique. When a Savannah Sparrow belts out its songs with its head tilted back and beak wide open, that posture may prevent the bird from seeing its rival clearly. In order to chase an intruder away, a nearly-closed beak compared to one that is wide open is advantageous. It allows the bird to keep an eye on its challenger, resulting in a productive chase. For a bird, tracking an intruder relies heavily on eyesight; and what bird can do that if it’s singing at the top of its lungs? 

So if you’re out and about in a field of Savannah Sparrows and you’re skilled at picking up a Savannah Sparrow’s soft song, listen for numerous occurrences. A high number of soft songs is an excellent indicator that the bird is about to show another bird who’s boss.

References

 

Moran, Ines G. & Doucet, Stéphanie & Newman, Amy & Norris, Ryan & Mennill, Daniel. (2018). Quiet violence: Savannah Sparrows respond to playback-simulated rivals using low-amplitude songs as aggressive signals: XXXX. Ethology. 124. 724-732. 10.1111/eth.12805.

MPSGS - Annual Exhibition

Three miniature oil paintings on exhibit.
88th Annual Exhibition of Fine Art in Miniature
The Miniature Painters, Sculptors & Gravers Society
of Washington, D.C. (MPSGS)

The Mansion at Strathmore

10701 Rockville Pike
North Bethesda, MD 20852

 

Nov. 21, 2021 - Jan. 8, 2022

The Seduction of Miss Lilly

18 x 24 inches, Oil on Belgian Linen Board

When I saw that empty beer bottle, I just wanted to spit. But I didn’t even know how to spit, not that I cared to, but at that moment, I wished for a proper spit, one that was accurate in its aim, with the bullseye on the bottle. If I’d been a baseball player, my spit would’ve been accurate. Go figure. One small group of society that still spits, and not because they’re irritated. 

I climbed a few steps past the litter and upwards into the field. I was thankful the ditch was dry. Still, I had been prepared to sink into the muddy grass. When I reached the top of the mountain, the mountain of prairie that is, it wasn’t as far as my eyes could see. Sadly, those places rarely exist anymore. "Urban sprawl and conversion to cropland have left this once expansive landscape, originally spanning across 14 states from Texas to Minnesota, at less than 4% of its original size."1 Farms, homes, crops, utility poles and roads dotted the landscape near and far, but as I stood in the land of Bobolinks, I knew this place was special. 

Just like the faded Budweiser label, the trails in front of me were barely visible. After sorting through a few obscure possibilities, I picked one that paralleled the high ridge, away from the quiet country road. Because Bobolinks nest on the ground, the last thing I wanted to do was accidentally step on a nest full of eggs. The trails were narrow, not more than eight inches and became less visible when the wind blew, therefore my pace was slow, calculated and cautious. My goal was to learn more about Bobolinks, obtain a personal connection with their homeland and photograph them in their natural habitat. 

The best part about Bobolinks, besides their gorgeous plumage, is their song. In the distance, I heard computers. The wind sometimes picked up the sound waves and made my ears perk up even more. Inflections of data were insulated beneath blades of grass, computations unknown and invisible. The sound made me giddy - another language, so foreign yet so familiar. 

My childhood occurred before computers became ubiquitous, but I had never heard Bobolinks in the wild before. I wonder what I would’ve thought of them before the recognizable beep-bee-bee-boop-weeps of a computer, which I probably first heard from an original Star Trek episode in the 1970s. R2-D2 from Star Wars has been compared to the noises of Bobolinks. Right on, I thought, as I stood in a patch of sci-fi surround sound. Ten-thousand years from now if humans and Bobolinks are still around, will we ask which came first: the computer or the Bobolink? Perhaps that’s a far-fetched question, but humans have short memories and are oftentimes distrustful of historical data. 

I unwrapped my collapsible chair and sat down to observe the Bobolinks in the prairie grassland. I took it all in — the warm spring air, the tall grasses, the morning sun, and the Bobolinks. Males hovered in mid-air above females hidden below, then retreated to higher perches after checking on them. Sometimes these perches were simple twigs, other times just blades of grass. Occasionally, a female would pop out long enough for me to get a glance, but rarely long enough for a photo. They were undercover and elusive. Males chased females here and there before disappearing into the field, gone in a flash. Off in the distance, Ring-necked Pheasants discharged their scratchy calls alongside the bouncy trills of Field Sparrows. Each were infrequent but regular contributors to the chaotic sounds of the Bobolinks. 

I have fallen in love with the prairie ever since my first visit to Glendalough State Park in western Minnesota in 2014; and of the four biomes that exist in my state, the prairie is my favorite. To some of you, that may come as a surprise because you know how much I love trees, so it’s entirely possible that if I lived on the prairie, I’d eventually yearn to be closer to trees. However, the grasslands have stolen my heart from the coniferous forest biome where I currently live. I hunger to return. 

Departing the land of Bobolinks, I exited the same way I came in, slowly and carefully. Towards the road, that old beer bottle pierced my eyeballs once more. American journalist Sydney J. Harris once said, "When we have 'second thoughts' about something, our first thoughts don't seem like thoughts at all - just feelings." My initial feelings about that piece of trash lying in the ditch had changed, and my second thoughts altered my point of view. No longer was that bottle an eyesore. Birds don't always cooperate when you want them to, so I considered it a good luck charm in my pursuit of the Bobolinks. I picked it up and took it home, where it serves as a reminder of my intimate perspective gained in the company of Bobolinks. Taking a negative object and turning it into a positive memento seemed like the perfect ending to a successful outing. 

 

This painting is of one of the male Bobolinks I saw that day, all decked out in his breeding plumage. Before migrating, they molt into feathers that more closely resemble the brownish-yellow females. Bobolinks are currently traveling to their wintering grounds in South America. Theirs is one of the longest migrations of any songbird in the Americas. 

The title of this work is named after Lilly, wife of famed Adolphus Busch, producer of Budweiser. Bobolinks are a declining species.

Note: This work dried for almost a year before a final varnish was applied, rendering it suitable for art shows beginning in 2022. 

References 

¹The Nature Conservancy, "Joseph H. Williams Tallgrass Prairie Preserve." https://www.nature.org/en-us/get-involved/how-to-help/places-we-protect/tallgrass-prairie-preserve/ Accessed Sept.16, 2021.

Adolphus Busch. Sept. 16, 2021. Adolphus Busch. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adolphus_Busch

Brainy Quote. Sept. 16, 2021. "Sydney J. Harris Quotes." https://www.brainyquote.com/authors/sydney-j-harris-quotes

 

Information from the All About Birds website, https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Bobolink/overview © Cornell Lab of Ornithology. Retrieved Sept. 16, 2021.

Opus Eclipsed

Oil on Artist's Panel - 4 x 4 inches

Described as sounding like the English equivalent of ee-oh-lay, perhaps the first thing that comes to mind about Wood Thrushes is their beautiful song. Usually, Wood Thrushes can be heard off in the distance in mixed forests and deciduous woods, and if you have them in your neck of the woods, you know how lucky you are. There is simply no other sound quite like that of a Wood Thrush. These birds breed in the eastern half of the United States and need large tracts of forest to survive. Sadly, they’ve suffered a two-percent decline every year from 1966-2015. 

The Wood Thrush is "listed as a Tri-National Concern species and is on the 2016 State of North America's Birds' Watch List, which includes bird species that are most at risk of extinction without significant conservation actions to reverse declines and reduce threats. The Wood Thrush is one of the most prominent examples of declining forest songbirds in North America.”¹

Last June, I encountered this bird, its mate, and their nest in an understory about 13 feet high, not long after dawn. One of the Wood Thrushes had insects in its mouth and the other was flicking its left wing at me from a low branch. This was all by chance, mind you. I hadn’t sought out this bird and wasn’t even birding at the time. As I stood on a seldom-traveled path observing the pair in sparkling rays through the trees, I soon discovered their nest. Realizing how close I was, I immediately backed away from my position and observed the pair from afar. Later, I retrieved my camera and took some photos, some of which are below. 

Wood Thrushes are one of many forest bird species susceptible to an ecological model called source-sink dynamics whereas these birds will inhabit both high-quality (source) and low-quality (sink) environments to breed. The source for Wood Thrushes is identified as a large tract of forest which allows for a high probability of reproductive success. The sink is a low quality habitat, such as a small woodlot. The sink population can survive, but their offspring will not, resulting in nest failure. To the casual observer, one might deduce that their small woodlot containing a Wood Thrush nest is indicative of a healthy population, but in a sink dynamic, no young ever fledge the nest. Without the protection of forest cover, predators such as crows, grackles, parasitic cowbirds, and squirrels are more likely to find their nest. In addition, cats can easily take these birds while they forage on the forest floor, their primary source for food.

Acid rain may be another factor contributing to the decline of the Wood Thrush. “A byproduct of burning fossil fuels for our vast energy needs, acid rain occurs when nitric and sulfuric acids combine with water in the atmosphere and return to earth as rain, snow, or mist. Acid reaction with the ground depletes soil calcium levels, leading to a host of forest ills. A calcium-poor diet can easily lead to egg shell defects and a smaller clutch of eggs. Both of these factors may contribute to breeding failure not only for the wood thrush but also for a variety of other songbirds."² It's important to note acid rain's effect on wildlife warrants further research, but evidence suggests it may play an important role in the decline of some species, notably the Wood Thrush, primarily due to its calcium-rich diet.

Specifically, Wood Thrushes need approximately one or two forested acres to survive in their ideal habitat. The acreage from where I observed the pair of Wood Thrushes was sizable, however partially fragmented. It wasn’t apparent they were in their source habitat; and it wasn’t a slam-dunk they were in the sink either. Not more than a stone's throw away, there were open, non-forested areas on three sides of the nest. On the other hand, the birds had a fairly direct route of forested landscape to the east and southeast of their nest. 

My photos revealed at least one baby’s beak rising above the top of the nest, so it was obvious the pair had reproduced provided it wasn't a cowbird's beak, but I did wonder whether there were more babies in the nest. I chose not to get better views of the clutch size simply because I didn’t want to disturb the family any more than my presence already had, but I was definitely curious! 

I can only hope the trees remain standing for generations to come in the location where I discovered this Wood Thrush family. The realist in me, however, has a heavy heart. When I see homeowners chipping away at treed acreage all around my community, commercial development expanding further and further from the city, and the shocking images of expansive land-clearing from here to eternity as shown from online mapping resources, I am disheartened. I ask myself, when will it stop? How much do humans need? Why do we need so much? As a positive step forward, we have begun to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, so perhaps acid rain will one day become a thing of the past. It is my fervent belief, however, that these actions alone will never contribute towards a sustainable planet for all creatures here on Earth unless human population control is also part of the equation.

Wood Thrushes are currently migrating to the tropical forests in Central America, another area of shrinking songbird habitat.

My photo of a Wood Thrush with suspected flea beetle, crane fly,
and green lacewing. Special thanks to Jim (James) Walker,
M.S. Entomologist, Department of Entomology,
University of Minnesota, for insect identification.
Photo ©Becca Mulenburg

My photo of a Wood Thrush nest. Look closely to see
the yellow-colored beak rising above the nest.
Plastic was used for some nesting material,
which is not uncommon for this bird.
Photo ©Becca Mulenburg

References 

¹Information from the All About Birds website, https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Wood_Thrush/lifehistory, © Cornell Lab of Ornithology. Retrieved September 9, 2021.

²McLane, Eben. "The Disappearing Wood Thrush." https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100519715. Retrieved Sept. 9, 2021.

Graham, Sarah. "Acid Rain Linked to Bird Decline." Aug. 13, 2002. Scientific American. https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/acid-rain-linked-to-bird/ Retrieved Sept. 9, 2021. 

Kricher, John. Peterson Reference Guide to Bird Behavior. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, New York, 2020.

Ralph S. Hames, Kenneth V. Rosenberg, James D. Lowe, Sara E. Barker, André A. Dhondt "Adverse effects of acid rain on the distribution of the Wood Thrush Hylocichla mustelina in North America"  Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A. 2002 Aug 20; 99(17): 11235–11240. Published online 2002 Aug 12. doi: 10.1073/pnas.172700199 PMCID: PMC123239. Retrieved Sept. 9, 2021.

"Source-sink dynamics." https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100519715. Retrieved Sept. 9, 2021.