Four-lined silverfish

I am a woodworker who has been mostly using old planks for my projects these days. The planks are stored in a nearby barn which is not closed to the elements. When I bring these planks into my shop, I have been noticing a plethora of silverfish, sluggish at first, but when the shop begins to warm up so do the silverfish (and I).
The other day, I slipped a few of these guys into a baggie and left them outside overnight, where it dipped to 16 degrees Fahrenheit.
The next morning, they were just frozen little bits, but within a half hour after being inside, they started skittering about full of energy. That's when I got the big idea of taking a closer look at them under my microscope. Here are some poor pictures made with the cheap microscope camera.

A Towhee in the Snow

Along the Riverway Trail in Radford a few mornings ago, I observed a towhee kicking a thin slush off some berries on the ground. I watched it eat a few of them, each one wrinkly and reddish and pecked up from some ratty leaves mixed in the snow. The berries had fallen from a Morrow's Bush-Honeysuckle.

The towhee would look at the ground and keep on kicking in the leaves. I saw it peck at a snail shell. The shell crunched into several pieces, and the towhee ate these like a starved, caged sparrow.

A couple of minutes later, a grayish cat slouched in from nowhere. The towhee fluttered to the top of a nearby hawthorn, chewinking, and making other slurred chip notes. After a moment or so, the towhee flew away past a short and wobbly stretch of rusty fence wire. I could hear it chewinking near the riverbank. The cat then began to ease away in the opposite direction towards some weeds and a ditch.

I then walked down the trail a while to my car and went home. I hope in a few days to write more about towhees.

Notes:

• 1. Photo of this male Eastern Towhee is by Stan Bentley. He gave me permission to use it in this blog entry. The red berries in the picture are the fruits of Flowering Dogwood, one of the highest energy berries available for birds in the fall.
• 2. I wrote this entry in my journal several days ago when there was actually a little snow on the ground (a rather rare event the past couple of winters here in Radford). I had to get outside and play in the snow of course, traipsing to see what I could see. The towhee was silent and busy, and hungry, and easy to observe, until the cat showed up...then the towhee was quite vociferous for a few moments, and then invisible, but still complaining about the cat.
• 3. As I mentioned in a blog entry last year, I grew up calling the towhee by the name of "joreen". Stan tells me that he grew up using the very similar name, "jorink" or "jarink". I have heard a couple of other people in the NRV use this name for towhees.
• 4. I enjoy listening to towhees singing, and counter-singing during their declarations of territory in the spring. I have also learned that towhees will occasionally include the notes of other bird songs in their vocalizations, particularly the first note or two of a song. I have heard them imitating and including a song note or two from cardinals, the chip notes of both downy and hairy woodpeckers, and alarm chuck notes from robins, to mention a few.

New River State Park, Alleghany Access, Mouth of Wilson, Va.

Yesterday, February 21, Mica Paluzzi and I spent four morning hours hiking and birding along the New River. Mica and I have shared several years of outdoor adventures, starting when he was ten. As we entered the park I suggested to him that on this visit we would make some quiet time, moments just sitting and paying attention to whatever shows up.
As we neared the river our first surprise came in the form of two pair of common mergansers, not that common in spite of the name. Taking a nice walk along the river for a couple of hours, we found much evidence of beaver activity, not something either of us had before noticed. We made an attempt to locate a viable site for a beaver dam, but the only possibility, though unlikely, was a feeder stream at the big bend in the river. As this was across the river from us, we had no way to further investigate.
Around 11:00 we returned to the spot where we had seen the now vanished mergansers. Directly above that spot, thanks to their raucous grumblings, we found the ravens' relocated nest. As I have mentioned in a previous post, this rock face has been a dedicated raven home for who knows how long. Last February, Mica and I observed three ravens attending one nest. And so it was yesterday, with one sitting on the nest and the two others gathering and sharing food, as well as holding guard. I continue to think this quite interesting.
So, Mica and I were being very quiet, sitting on a bench, when a new noise interrupted our reverie. First we heard a crashing of brush, coming from the opposite side of the river, and just below the ravens. Then a piping/barking noise and a splash directed our attention to a pair of northern river otters in great spirit of play. At first it almost appeared as if they were in battle, then I considered they might be mating, but the fluidity of their motion and humorous antics made clear they were playing. And play they did, for us for over a half an hour.

More Otters

I have seen two otters a couple more times in the past week. They have mainly been traveling in a hurry. Bob Abraham has managed to find them a few times also & has sent me a few pictures. I will include one with this short blurb.

I believe the otters are becoming more secretive; maybe they are starting to care for young in a den somewhere.

This will be a simple post based upon the influx of pine siskins this winter in many southerly regions. It is my observation that the abundance of these siskins is large, and my speculation is that they had a good breeding season in 2008, possibly over populating their winter food resources.

This is the first winter I have had to compare the various plumage of siskins, and the variety, though subtle, is quite beautiful. It has recently been brought to my attention that at least two waves have hit us, the first being lower latitudinal breeders, whose behavior indicates a familiarity with and fear of humans, and the second made up of innocents whose 'tameness' is indicated by no fear at all. What's up with that word tame anyway? I experimented with both flocks, and can verify that the second group were not at all shy of me.

Hence, this photo.

River Otters This Winter

Since late November, it has been the winter of River Otters here in the Radford stretch of the New River. I have found them a lot of mornings just before daybreak. They'd be foraging for crayfish, or small carp and other fish.

Most times I encounter a group of four, swimming near shore or lounging on a nearly submerged willow. Only once this winter have I seen one alone, and that one was shoving pieces of ice towards the boat landing two weeks ago. I don't know what that behavior was about. But once it saw me, it started making a strange raspy call that I heard for the first time about five months ago. I think it is a very agitated distress call of some sort.

I have learned to imitate that call, and it sometimes makes the otters swim towards me and utter this vocalization even more frequently and louder. It sounds like someone saying the word "otter" while gargling. And it sounds a bit like Golem mouthing his name "golem" several times in the Lord of the Rings movie, though not nearly as harsh a sound.

The loner two weeks ago made this sound, and I would say this sound back (or at least my rudimentary approximation of the vocal). I'm sure the otter considered it a poor voicing of something important. Anyway this one conversation lasted about five minutes before the otter swam away.

Early this morning (7 February) there were two groups of otters. One group of three swam down stream, swerving and gliding in and out of the water, much like dolphins. The other group was a pair of otters that swam near the far shore and headed upstream. The pair took a brief detour and swam quickly at a Horned Grebe which dived and disappeared. The pair then continued upstream.

I wonder if one of the group of four had left and found a mate.