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pameladeanETA: Check out the first comment below, where Raphael explains the actual calls of the American Redstart, which I conflated.
Yesterday was unseasonably hot, but Raphael and I went hiking anyway, because the forecast said there was a twenty percent chance of thunderstorms, while all other days had a much higher chance. We had an extensive discussion of where to go, bearing in mind that my rib injury, while much better, makes me tired and tends to express itself suddenly during activity. We ruled out Crow Hassan Park Reserve, near Hanover, Minnesota; because it has a lot of shared horse and hiking trails, very sandy, and I felt that the continual sliding around caused by walking on sand would aggravate the injury. We went instead to Murphy Hanrehan Park Reserve, near Savage. I couldn't recall having been there before, but Raphael assured me that the shared horse and hiking trails were just trails, not sand. I did recognize the parking lot when we got there.
It took us, I think, about an hour just to get out of the parking lot; we did visit the picnic area with the bathroom, but had not brought camera (Raphael) or binoculars (me), and once we went back to the car to get them, there were so many birds in the thin woodlands surrounding the parking lot that it was hard to leave. There were black and white warblers, which are completely charming, being all stripey and streaky, and being the only warbler that walks up a tree like a nuthatch to search for insects beneath the bark. There were yellow-rumped warblers, apparently known affectionately in real birding circles as "butterbutts". There were yellow warblers and American redstarts. I'm particularly fond of redstarts. Their name is just right. A flash of black and red, here and gone; but at least that means you can tell what they are, unlike the flash of yellow and black and white that is most warblers going about their business. Also redstarts make a call like somebody squeezing a very high-pitched dog toy. Raphael says that the official call is "see see see SEE it," but agrees about the dog toy.
There was also a bird at the top of a tree, singing such a complex and variable song that we thought it must be a catbird; but it was brown, with a long tail and rufous bits. It sounded like a mockingbird. Raphael surmised that it was a brown thrasher, and indeed it was. Wikipedia says that they don't mimic other birds' songs, but have their own repertoire of about 2000 different calls. We also heard a pileated woodpecker laughing all around, but it didn't show itself.
We finally got back down to the picnic area, which is surrounded by a mix of shrubbery, woods, lawn with specimen trees, a hill with a big thicket of sumac, and, on the other side of the lawn, a big marsh. There were birds all over the place. I got much better looks at the behavior of black and white warblers than I had before. It looks as if, like brown creepers, they walk up the tree and then fly back down to the ground; but they may walk down trees too if they feel like it and I haven't watched them enough to see that. There were also queen bumblebees zooming around and some green darners sailing back and forth on patrol. And gnats. No mosquitoes just yet, at least.
We eventually went along the trail, intending to go past the protected habitat for hooded warblers, which bird Raphael looked for in this park last year but couldn't find. Their call, I am reliably informed, is "Give me more LETTUCE." We saw some ingenious cup-shaped nests in bare shrubs, and a tree swallow sitting on a bird house. But the trail was blocked by a brisk stream running across, a morass of mud and deep-looking water. We tried to go around, since there was a slope of non-native grasses and more of the birds-nest shrubs; they looked harmless but turned out to be very thorny. We ended up on a trail that just took us back to the picnic area. Raphael said we could go the other direction, along the road, and come at the hooded warblers from higher ground; but I was so exhausted from scrambling around on the hillside that I decided to stay in the parking area. I had a scratchy throat and the general feeling that I was coming down with something. We were both also certain that it was a lot hotter than forecast. Raphael was sorry that I would miss the hike, but was persuaded to go. We checked that we both had cellphone service, and with admonitions to call if I got bored, Raphael went off in the heavy muggy heat to look for hooded warblers.
I sat in the car for about an hour, with the door open for the breeze. Just within the tangle of box elder, grape vine, and maple that I could see without moving my head, I saw three black and white warblers, three yellow warblers, six or seven kinglets, and a common yellowthroat. The yellowthroat was bouncing around on the ground in a patch of burdock, leaping up to hit the undersides of the leaves with its beak. I assume there were tasty insects there.
I went down to the picnic area, where I could sit under a roof in the shade and look at the marsh. A dark, small, pointy hawk was circling over and over the marsh, but I couldn't see details through the binoculars. Red-winged blackbirds were well represented, chiming and buzzing in their strangely-electronic way and flitting about, the males displaying their shoulder patches and the females very fine in their own spotty streaky way. More yellow warblers came along, and then some goldfinches so that I could make a clear comparison -- they both, from a distance, merely elicit a, "That is a VERY YELLOW bird" from one. A chipping sparrow landed right in front of me. Black and white warblers ran up and down the trees that crowd the back of the shelter. The woodpecker laughed again. Several kinds of frogs were discoursing in volume and detail. It was a particularly beautiful spot, perhaps more beautiful with the delicate tapestry of just-leafed-out trees, still-bare trees, and the shapely branches of the cautious sumac, which every year makes me think it has all died, than would be the case later in the year. I walked down to the marsh later; the frogs stopped, considered, and started again, and all the blackbirds made a sound like a hundred cellphones ringing.
I'd been concerned about what I would do when the sun got low enough to shine into the shelter and deprived me of my shade, but what happened instead was that a big bank of thunderheads came up over the sun, and the wind rose. I went back to the car, wondering if I should text Raphael; but Raphael called just then from the road, just a few minutes' hike away. There had been no hooded warblers, but there were lots of other birds. We dawdled around the picnic area a little while longer, and returned to the car just as sprinkles began. The sky was beginning to look apocalyptic, with the lowering sun tinging things pink and sending long beams through an occasional break in the clouds.
We needed to stop in Savage for gas, but at the first place we tried all the pumps were down. The sky was darkening fast, and all the tornado sirens were going off. The gas light was on in Raphael's car for the first time. We went along to another gas station and filled up, and turned on MPR. They were placidly doing a news program rather than wibbling about tornadoes, so we figured that the sirens had been run to warn of severe thunderstorms, as sometimes happens. They usually do this if the winds will exceed 60 mph, which was alarming; but in this case, as it turned out, they were worried about really huge hailstones. We left the radio on until we did get a weather report, which said that severe thunderstorms were coming from the south at about 25 miles an hour. "Well," said Raphael with satisfaction, "we drive faster than that."
We did beat the storm home, but then, of course, we were home, and there was a storm. The light was not green, but rather a strange pale orange, as if something enormous were burning far away. After staring at the radar on WCCO for a bit, with its two tornado warnings, we put the upstairs cats in carriers and took them down to the basement, where my arrangement of chairs for comfort during tornado warnings had been disrupted by a series of projects. Luckily, there were only fifteen minutes before the tornado warning of interest to us was due to expire, and it did expire. After that we had to make it up to the cats for having been gone all day and then unceremoniously scooped them into boxes while they were trying to greet us.
The other tornado warning, which produced an actual tornado and damage, was to the northwest, near St. Michael and Hanover and Crow Hassan. It's just as well I had the injured rib.
I do have a cold, too. Well, better this week, when the rib is much better, than right after Minicon.
Pamela
Yesterday was unseasonably hot, but Raphael and I went hiking anyway, because the forecast said there was a twenty percent chance of thunderstorms, while all other days had a much higher chance. We had an extensive discussion of where to go, bearing in mind that my rib injury, while much better, makes me tired and tends to express itself suddenly during activity. We ruled out Crow Hassan Park Reserve, near Hanover, Minnesota; because it has a lot of shared horse and hiking trails, very sandy, and I felt that the continual sliding around caused by walking on sand would aggravate the injury. We went instead to Murphy Hanrehan Park Reserve, near Savage. I couldn't recall having been there before, but Raphael assured me that the shared horse and hiking trails were just trails, not sand. I did recognize the parking lot when we got there.
It took us, I think, about an hour just to get out of the parking lot; we did visit the picnic area with the bathroom, but had not brought camera (Raphael) or binoculars (me), and once we went back to the car to get them, there were so many birds in the thin woodlands surrounding the parking lot that it was hard to leave. There were black and white warblers, which are completely charming, being all stripey and streaky, and being the only warbler that walks up a tree like a nuthatch to search for insects beneath the bark. There were yellow-rumped warblers, apparently known affectionately in real birding circles as "butterbutts". There were yellow warblers and American redstarts. I'm particularly fond of redstarts. Their name is just right. A flash of black and red, here and gone; but at least that means you can tell what they are, unlike the flash of yellow and black and white that is most warblers going about their business. Also redstarts make a call like somebody squeezing a very high-pitched dog toy. Raphael says that the official call is "see see see SEE it," but agrees about the dog toy.
There was also a bird at the top of a tree, singing such a complex and variable song that we thought it must be a catbird; but it was brown, with a long tail and rufous bits. It sounded like a mockingbird. Raphael surmised that it was a brown thrasher, and indeed it was. Wikipedia says that they don't mimic other birds' songs, but have their own repertoire of about 2000 different calls. We also heard a pileated woodpecker laughing all around, but it didn't show itself.
We finally got back down to the picnic area, which is surrounded by a mix of shrubbery, woods, lawn with specimen trees, a hill with a big thicket of sumac, and, on the other side of the lawn, a big marsh. There were birds all over the place. I got much better looks at the behavior of black and white warblers than I had before. It looks as if, like brown creepers, they walk up the tree and then fly back down to the ground; but they may walk down trees too if they feel like it and I haven't watched them enough to see that. There were also queen bumblebees zooming around and some green darners sailing back and forth on patrol. And gnats. No mosquitoes just yet, at least.
We eventually went along the trail, intending to go past the protected habitat for hooded warblers, which bird Raphael looked for in this park last year but couldn't find. Their call, I am reliably informed, is "Give me more LETTUCE." We saw some ingenious cup-shaped nests in bare shrubs, and a tree swallow sitting on a bird house. But the trail was blocked by a brisk stream running across, a morass of mud and deep-looking water. We tried to go around, since there was a slope of non-native grasses and more of the birds-nest shrubs; they looked harmless but turned out to be very thorny. We ended up on a trail that just took us back to the picnic area. Raphael said we could go the other direction, along the road, and come at the hooded warblers from higher ground; but I was so exhausted from scrambling around on the hillside that I decided to stay in the parking area. I had a scratchy throat and the general feeling that I was coming down with something. We were both also certain that it was a lot hotter than forecast. Raphael was sorry that I would miss the hike, but was persuaded to go. We checked that we both had cellphone service, and with admonitions to call if I got bored, Raphael went off in the heavy muggy heat to look for hooded warblers.
I sat in the car for about an hour, with the door open for the breeze. Just within the tangle of box elder, grape vine, and maple that I could see without moving my head, I saw three black and white warblers, three yellow warblers, six or seven kinglets, and a common yellowthroat. The yellowthroat was bouncing around on the ground in a patch of burdock, leaping up to hit the undersides of the leaves with its beak. I assume there were tasty insects there.
I went down to the picnic area, where I could sit under a roof in the shade and look at the marsh. A dark, small, pointy hawk was circling over and over the marsh, but I couldn't see details through the binoculars. Red-winged blackbirds were well represented, chiming and buzzing in their strangely-electronic way and flitting about, the males displaying their shoulder patches and the females very fine in their own spotty streaky way. More yellow warblers came along, and then some goldfinches so that I could make a clear comparison -- they both, from a distance, merely elicit a, "That is a VERY YELLOW bird" from one. A chipping sparrow landed right in front of me. Black and white warblers ran up and down the trees that crowd the back of the shelter. The woodpecker laughed again. Several kinds of frogs were discoursing in volume and detail. It was a particularly beautiful spot, perhaps more beautiful with the delicate tapestry of just-leafed-out trees, still-bare trees, and the shapely branches of the cautious sumac, which every year makes me think it has all died, than would be the case later in the year. I walked down to the marsh later; the frogs stopped, considered, and started again, and all the blackbirds made a sound like a hundred cellphones ringing.
I'd been concerned about what I would do when the sun got low enough to shine into the shelter and deprived me of my shade, but what happened instead was that a big bank of thunderheads came up over the sun, and the wind rose. I went back to the car, wondering if I should text Raphael; but Raphael called just then from the road, just a few minutes' hike away. There had been no hooded warblers, but there were lots of other birds. We dawdled around the picnic area a little while longer, and returned to the car just as sprinkles began. The sky was beginning to look apocalyptic, with the lowering sun tinging things pink and sending long beams through an occasional break in the clouds.
We needed to stop in Savage for gas, but at the first place we tried all the pumps were down. The sky was darkening fast, and all the tornado sirens were going off. The gas light was on in Raphael's car for the first time. We went along to another gas station and filled up, and turned on MPR. They were placidly doing a news program rather than wibbling about tornadoes, so we figured that the sirens had been run to warn of severe thunderstorms, as sometimes happens. They usually do this if the winds will exceed 60 mph, which was alarming; but in this case, as it turned out, they were worried about really huge hailstones. We left the radio on until we did get a weather report, which said that severe thunderstorms were coming from the south at about 25 miles an hour. "Well," said Raphael with satisfaction, "we drive faster than that."
We did beat the storm home, but then, of course, we were home, and there was a storm. The light was not green, but rather a strange pale orange, as if something enormous were burning far away. After staring at the radar on WCCO for a bit, with its two tornado warnings, we put the upstairs cats in carriers and took them down to the basement, where my arrangement of chairs for comfort during tornado warnings had been disrupted by a series of projects. Luckily, there were only fifteen minutes before the tornado warning of interest to us was due to expire, and it did expire. After that we had to make it up to the cats for having been gone all day and then unceremoniously scooped them into boxes while they were trying to greet us.
The other tornado warning, which produced an actual tornado and damage, was to the northwest, near St. Michael and Hanover and Crow Hassan. It's just as well I had the injured rib.
I do have a cold, too. Well, better this week, when the rib is much better, than right after Minicon.
Pamela
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no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 01:22 am (UTC)I think Brown Thrashers actually do mimic. If they really make up thousands of songs on their own, I'm impressed.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 03:22 am (UTC)That was scary, but the scenery, like you describe, was glorious.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 06:03 am (UTC)If there aren't structures, you are supposed to find a low-lying area and lie flat in it. I feel fortunate never to have needed to do this.
P.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 11:28 am (UTC)Wikipedia says that they don't mimic other birds' songs, but have their own repertoire of about 2000 different calls.
That is amazing. Go Brown Thrashers.
I remember stupidly waiting out a passing tornado in a parked car with my ex-husband; we did see the green sky and the funnel cloud, but thankfully it was far enough away that all we experienced were really high winds.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 05:31 pm (UTC)Eeeek. It does feel that the car must be safer than being out in the open. It's fortunate that many tornadoes are small and have narrow paths, so you can see one quite clearly and yet escape. It's unfortunate that this leads people to go outside with their cameras while tornadoes are about. They can change direction really quickly.
P.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 04:52 am (UTC)He reports hearing one brown thrasher imitating another, and guesses they may pick up songs from each other, but doesn't know for certain.
(Oh goodness, page 199 says that the thrasher uses its two voiceboxes (it has two voiceboxes!) in a hocketed sequence as well as in harmony.)
no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 01:39 pm (UTC)Nate
no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 05:29 pm (UTC)Eloise Butler was looking very flowery when I was last there, and after the warmth and recent rains, it should be even better.
I never got to Nerstrand while I was at Carleton. Students were not allowed to have cars when I was there, unless they had a demonstrable medical need for one. We also had the Arboretum right next to campus to assuage our longing for wilderness. David's mother is a big fan of Nerstrand, and we went there with her in the fall once or twice; but I didn't realize it was unsurpassed in the spring until Raphael and I started looking for orchids in Minnesota.
P.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 05:27 pm (UTC)I had to go to Nerstrand to see rose-breasted grosbeaks, but Raphael and I did see orioles at Wood Lake. That's an amazing place for birding given that you can see people's houses from most of it and a long stretch of it is right up against I-35.
I have never seen a thrasher in a tree before, which is one reason we were speculating that it must be something else. Usually they are kicking around in leaf litter.
P
no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 02:48 am (UTC)P.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 12:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 02:48 am (UTC)P.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 10:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 09:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 02:49 am (UTC)P.
интернет магазин
Date: 2011-05-16 05:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 09:22 pm (UTC)