Ever since I can recall, I've had a childlike fascination with things around me. Be it bugs, birds, plants, whatever, I've possessed an inner passion to know more about what creeps, crawls, flies or walks around me. In this light, I had a visitor to my back yard about three weeks ago I quickly recognized as a viceroy butterfly (Limenitis archippus). It's not that viceroys are uncommon--they're not--but it was the first one I had seen in my yard this year.
When it comes to putting common names to specific birds, some seem to fit quite descriptively while others make a person want to scratch their head and say, "Where did that idea come from?" For instance, there really isn't that much yellow (if you can see it at all) on a yellow-bellied sapsucker. But in the first category there are a pair of shorebirds that are so aptly dubbed that one might say, "Well duh." I'm referring to the greater yellowlegs (Tringa melanoleuca) and lesser yellowlegs (Tringa flavipes).
One can hardly pick up a newspaper or read a Web site without hearing screaming voices expounding on the imminent threat of global climate change and possible future scenarios thereof. I will point out that, in learned halls, similar debates regarding birds are taking place. Are birds in trouble or are they not? Are they expanding their ranges or contracting them? I highlight this only because of a recent discovery in West Fargo's Rendezvous Park. It appears a pair of northern mockingbirds (Mimus polyglottos) successfully nested and are in the process of rearing at least one juvenile bird.
There exist about 338 species of hummingbird in the world, and all are found only in the Western Hemisphere. Of those, about 16 or so can be found north of Mexico. The great majority of that 16 are west of the Rockies, leaving us in the east with one representative: The ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris). Many birds can go unnoticed in the course of a person's day but hummers aren't in that group. Virtually everyone has seen one.
For Ben "Bubba" Schwartz the road back to Bemidji (the home of his youth) is rife with setback and success, sprinkled with a healthy dose of adventurous flavor. Not that he's a full-time resident again mind you, but, for the summer at least, this southern Arizona falconer is occupying a prominent space at Bemidji's Headwaters Science Center. It's here that Schwartz is rousing public interest in the natural world with his small collection of raptors and reptiles. Never one to let much grass grow around his feet, Schwartz has received mail on five different continents.
"No sooner has the bird reached its destined abode, than whenever a fair morning occurs, it mounts the topmost twig of a detached tree, and pours forth its loud, richly varied, and highly melodious song." That's how John James Audubon described the singing habits of the Brown Thrasher (Toxostoma rufum). The bird is common in our area although it is likely heard more than it is seen, being a somewhat shy dweller of heavier scrub edges.
A friend called my wife one evening a couple of weeks ago. The other woman was somewhat desperate and seeking advice on how to handle an orphaned baby American Robin. My wife turned to me on the couch and asked what advice she should relay to this would-be savior. Looking up from what I was reading, I simply told her to take the bird back to where she found it and walk away. In addition, it is illegal.
The recent high price of gasoline is being felt by anyone who drives an automobile. Those whose jobs require more travel are undoubtedly dedicating a growing portion of their monthly budgets toward fueling their vehicles. It just so happened, the last weekend in May marked the date dedicated to bird field trips sponsored by the North Dakota Birding Society. Last fall they had picked Williston as the site for this spring's gathering. Very little bird information flows out of that particular region of the state.
There is a shorebird currently in our midst that possesses a rather impressive collection of offbeat behaviors. I was pleased to find a substantial number of them recently while conducting a shorebird survey for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. This little prairie nester I'm referring to is the Wilson's Phalarope (Phalaropus tricolor).
It was 1918 when a fellow named Robert Ripley began drawing cartoon panels for newspapers with the heading, Believe It or Not! Ripley would pass along weird facts and oddities from around the world and present them in these panels. The feature became immensely popular and made Mr. Ripley a very rich man. The franchise still exists with many "museums" scattered around the country in popular tourist locales. I'm not exactly sure where this gentleman harvested his factual data or how it was verified. But facts have a way of getting lost in the murky sea of hearsay and wives' tales.