Spring Peepers - Seeing is Believing

Here in the heart of Carolina, the high-pitched call of the male spring peeper is as indispensable an element of the soundtrack of early spring as the monotonous hum of the dog-day cicada is to the ambience of late summer.

If you've been out of doors anywhere near a pond or stream or puddle in the past week, you should have heard their calls, and if you were quite close to the water, 

you may have had difficulty hearing anything else over the deafening chorus of amphibious courtship. 

Seeing these diminutive divas is another matter altogether, however. 

They may be in the water, on the bank or in nearby vegetation, and while they are not shy about singing with strangers around, 

it can be nearly impossible to pinpoint the source of an individual caller.

 They remain resolutely motionless, generally prefer to stay near or under cover, and have wonderfully camouflaged skin. More than one frustrated seeker has been known to abandon the search and settle for the audio-only version, all the while muttering their doubts as to whether the frogs are large enough to be seen by the naked eye.

For the brave and determined soul, however, who's willing to brave the chill of a late winter's eve, and silently make their way to the brink of a local farm pond or ephemeral pool deep in the dark of night, 

it is sometimes possible to catch a glimpse of a bold bachelor or two, 

belting out their best from a perch in the open, the better to be seen by other amorous amphibians.

And on this particular night, the peepers are so firmly focused on wooing that an early emerging mosquito manages to drink its fill from an unflinching frog, even as the camera flashes bright. 

(Note: Several viewers have indicated the mosquitoes are a little difficult to spot. We agree! In the picture below, a mosquito with belly distended by blood is perched on the left rear leg of the frog. In the picture immediately following the one below, the mosquito is perched on the curled leaf surface beside the frog, feeding from its right foreleg.)

 In a rather nifty turn of the tables, 

we notice other mosquitoes preying upon other hormone-happy hoppers as we make our way around the pool.

Ants, flies and mosquitoes typically comprise a significant portion of the spring peepers' diet, but tonight the mating game apparently takes priority.

As the amphibian chorus reverberates among the towering pines,  

a dozen voices are amplified to the volume of hundreds,

and a dozen cross-bearing males wait with bated breath for a mate to appear...

before resuming their peeping again. 

As for Hoot Owl Karma, we slip silently back into the darkness, content in the knowledge imparted by our very own eyes.

Spring is here!

Aerial Anglers

After trading an hour of sleep Saturday night for an additional hour of daylight on Sunday, 

Hoot Owl Karma decided to redeem that extra hour right away with a return trip to the site of the prior evening's moonshots. 

Several weeks of above average precipitation had raised lake levels to the point that a significant amount of water was being released into the river below the dam, creating quite a boon for the gulls and piscine raptors hovering above the roiling whitewater. 

   

A handsome pair of ospreys plied the skies, successfully nabbing fish after fish before our admiring eyes. 

  

The "fish hawk" or "sea hawk" depends upon live fish for nearly 100 percent of its diet, and is ubiquitous once again along most of North America's coastline and inland waters, after nearly succumbing to the detrimental effects of the chemical DDT in the middle of the last century.

It was well worth a little lost shuteye to spend an hour in the presence of such impressive creatures, soaring and diving and thriving once again in their rightful place above the waters of central Carolina. 

Seeing in the Dark...

Last night, we here on the east coast of the United States lost an hour to Daylight Savings Time, so that we could gain an hour of daylight today.  A few hours in advance of the big clock roll-ahead, Cousin Danny called and invited Hoot Owl Karma to honor the soon to be departed hour of darkness with a little nighttime photo shoot.

So Jay and I headed out to Jordan Lake with Cousin Danny and trained our lenses on the darkness. Only it wasn't quite as dark as we expected...

Just about the time we reached our destination and unloaded our gear, this thing cleared the horizon. It's amazing how effectively our moon reflects the sun's light back at us, even in the "dark" of night. Our hour was very well spent, nonetheless, as Jay and Danny got some wonderful shots of the lovely lunar orb. Stay tuned in coming weeks for more shots in the dark as the lunar cycle progresses, and we get a little more practice. 

In the meantime, why not go outside today and enjoy that extra hour of daylight?!

Early Risers...

After highs near 80 degrees F on Wednesday, Thursday ended with a Winter Weather Advisory due to the threat of black ice, and Friday's temps flirted with freezing all day.

Our wild week of weather wound down with an early morning walk on the wild side at San Lee Park under cloudless skies and a brilliant sun.

Red-shouldered hawk and its mate carried on a shrill conversation from their perches high above the stream, and a murder of crows responded with an agitated chorus of their own from just downstream. 

The trout lilies, object of our chilly early morning quest, had progressed significantly since our visit last week. 

Many more mottled leaves pierced the dense layer of last year's cast off foliage,

and at least a dozen flowers tentatively spread their petals to greet the morning sun.

Eye-catching as these golden baubles are to the wandering human, 

one wonders what pollinators nature had in mind for such an early bloomer.

Perhaps today's sunshine and tomorrow's combined will arouse a hungry bumblebee from its winter slumber...

Regardless of that answer to that little riddle, this colony of early risers appears to be thriving on the stream banks of San Lee. 

Judging from the hundreds, if not thousands, of plants now appearing, there are likely other reproductive forces at work in the soil of the forest floor, rich with the accumulated nutrients of a healthy forest ecosystem.

Tiny little bulbs sending out root-like runners, creating clone after clone, sending more and more leaves to the chilly surface each spring to tap into the life-giving light of the sun.

Thrilled by the continued success of our little colony, we pause for one last picture...

A rare individual lily, perched all alone on the massive moss-covered foot of a gentle forest giant, mere inches from the falling waters of the rain-swollen stream; 

a priceless reward for the early risers...

Impressions of a Bird in a Tree

Before my eyes,

a glimmering spark of gold

gleans crimson buds of hope,

beneath a sky forever blue.

On winged limbs,

a tiny feathered spirit,

nimble, 

fearless,

free.

My heart replies,

Dream,

                               Take flight, 

                                                      and   Be...

                                                     

Winter on the Wing - A Bird's Life...

On a chilly winter day, with several inches of snow still blanketing the woodland hills, those who spend winter on the wing are once again in search of food.  

This eastern bluebird has located a well-stocked bird feeder, a veritable oasis in the sudden desert of cold and ice which was so recently a leafy forest floor, and has staked its claim to a perch nearby.

Survival is the name of the game, and as evidenced by their continued existence after the two harsh weeks of winter just past, these individuals have proven their mettle as foragers and hunters and food finders in general. 

Like the bluebird, this hermit thrush has cast its lot with the bird feeder set, and perches in the cold gray light just a few feet from the observation platform near the feeding station. While these drab gray woods may soon resound with the thrush's glorious song of spring, today his silence sounds the call of cold and hungry.

Like so many of the small songbirds congregating at the feeder today, Carolina chickadee's metabolism demands a surprisingly large food intake for its tiny size; this individual has found a perch overlooking a healthy pile of sunflower seeds and is far more interested in monitoring the activity there than in smiling for the camera...

Not far away, northern cardinal offers a bold and striking profile from its perch in a young lichen-splotched hickory adjacent to the oasis, while a white-throated sparrow shares the frame until a perch opens up on the feeder.

With Carolina chickadee joining the ranks on the front lines at the foot of the feeder pole, 

tufted titmouse arrives to occupy its vacant perch, but only for a moment's rest; 

then, it too will return to the fray, taking full advantage of the oasis today in advance of an uncertain tomorrow.

Such is the life of those who spend winter on the wing... 

A few hours later and a few miles away, in the warmth of an all too brief appearance by the sun, American robin dozes at the edge of a snow-covered meadow,

while one of its brethren takes pause from its worm-digging to savor the sun's life-giving warmth as well.

Winter on the wing; it's a bird's life...

Perpetual Motion - Golden-Crowned Kinglet

In the midst of yesterday's wintry wanderings in Chapel Hill, we glimpsed a tiny flash of motion amongst the leafless branches of a young winged elm.

Frozen in the lens for the briefest instant, behind a screen of tangled twigs,

we recognized our friend the golden-crowned kinglet, tiny denizen of the boreal forests, and sometimes winter resident in our little corner of the world.

In all our years of training lenses on avian targets, perhaps only the ruby-throated hummingbird has proven more elusive than this little flitter of a critter.

We exhausted a half-dozen of the camera's automatic pre-sets and opted in and out of auto-focus at least as many times before abandoning the camera altogether and simply enjoying the encounter with this frenetic, creeping, crawling, dangling flyer.

In a matter of minutes, this fellow had covered every square inch of trunk and branch and tiniest twig, leaving no bit of bark unexplored.

Clearly aware of our presence, but undeterred in its mission, this petite perpetual motion machine never ceased its surveying, pausing for the barest instant from time to time, offering an occasional tantalizing glimpse of its gold and orange headdress.

Then scurrying on along the limb, it resumed its foraging, inspecting every flake of loosened bark and hundreds of emergent buds for any sign of an edible arthropod.

Acrobat, contortionist or literal busybody, this guy simple could not be still.

One instant hanging from the tip of the slenderest branch like an upright bat,

the next conducting an aerial survey of the next branch over, 

our hardy and intrepid little hunter gave quite an entertaining performance for the better part of ten minutes.

Then departed as suddenly as it had appeared, headed for happier hunting grounds

high in the mighty pines just across the way. 

Sad as we were at our parting, those of us without roots in the Arctic 

were just about ready to head inside for warmer climes.

Keep moving, little hunter, it'll keep you warm.