The Lunar Elipse

I woke up earlier than usual this Saturday morning.

The moonlight streaming through my window at 4:30am was intense.

Normally, it's so dark in my yard that I have trouble waking in the morning.  My window faces south, but light from the sun and the moon are filtered through a grove of evergreens, planted years ago by a legendary tree-lover who recently passed away.

I leave the curtains in my bedroom open so it's easier for me to wake up.  Not to worry, we have no 2-legged neighbors out here on the beach in rural northwestern Minnesota.   Just the deer, an occasional moose, bear and wolf - and lots of birds.

The moonlight was so bright - I had to wonder:   did something trip the motion detector lights outside my window?

No, there was nothing artificial about it.   The light was lunar.

Then I remembered - there was an eclipse last night... or was it this morning?  I should have paid more attention when I heard the story on the news.  At the time, I had no intention of getting up and going outside to witness it.

What I did remember from the news last night - was the weather forecast:  overnight temperatures in the teens.

No, I had no plans to get up early on a Saturday morning and go out in the cold to watch the moon.  Not gonna do it.  No way.

But I couldn't get back to sleep.   So I got up and went to my trusty MacBook Pro to watch the eclipse, on-line.

Wouldn't ya know, I was up too early.  The eclipse isn't going to start until 6:45am.  I looked at my thermometer:  5º F.  No, I'm not going outside to watch the eclipse.

I fixed a pot of coffee and went back to my computer. 

My resolve started vacillating when I hit on a posting on Weather.com:  "Saturday's eclipsed moon may look unusually huge to the North Americans who can see it, due to the "moon illusion." It's not that the moon gets bigger when it's near the horizon; it's just that our brain is programmed to perceive sky phenomena differently depending on whether they're overhead or lower down in the sky."

Okay, now I gotta do it.

I put on my coat, grabbed my camera and headed out the door, drawn by the urge to experience the "moon illusion" during an eclipse.

I spotted the moon in the northwestern sky - the eclipse had started.  To get a clear view, I had to walk  out of the woods and down my driveway to the main road.  Along the way, I heard the little Great-horned Owl who shares my yard, announcing his territory.   Who-who who-whooo.

Despite the bone-chilling cold, the experience - the eclipse, the illusion and the owl - was well worth the effort.

lunar eclipse in northwestern Minnesota

Snowy Owls in Northern Minnesota

Snowy Owl in Thief River Falls 11/23/11 3pm

A decade or so ago, I took my first trip out to the Red River Valley - in the winter.  I wanted to see a Snowy Owl.  I had read somewhere that the Grand Forks area is one of the most reliable places to see them in the upper mid-west. 

I remember packing my husband, Tom, and my gear into the car.  I remember heading west on I-94.  And I remember the snowstorm.  Tom will never let me forget that snowstorm.

We stopped at the Visitor Center in Grand Forks - to get directions to the nearest Snowy Owl.  I remember Tom shaking his head as we got out of the car.   Someone in there at the Visitor Center will have directions for you, he said.  Yah, sure.  

Undaunted by his skepticism, I asked the woman behind the desk.  No, I don't know where you could see one, but, she said with a smile, I'll call someone who probably does.  I watched her get on the phone and talk with a guy named "Mike."  She took notes.  

After a few minutes, she turned to me and gave me directions to a farm out past the Air Force Base.  I thanked her and we headed back out into the snowstorm.   Tom asked:  Can't we go to the motel?  No, I said, I want to see a Snowy Owl.

We drove for what seemed like forever (in the snowstorm), looking for the landmark "Mike" gave us:  a "garage door with a bison" painted on it.   After awhile, Tom said:  this is a wild goose chase.  That guy "Mike" must have had a good laugh when he made up these directions.

Then I laughed - and pointed.  Right in front of us was the garage with the bison.   We took another look at the directions:   look across the street at the only big tree out in the field.  

We looked.  And there it was!  A Snowy Owl in a snowstorm - up in a tree. 

Minutes later, a car pulled up next to ours.  A man in a business suit got out and said:  I just wanted to be sure you found the owl.  I'm Mike Jacobs.

I've never forgotten that owl, Mike Jacobs (editor and publisher of the Grand Forks Herald) and the welcome we got at the Greater Grand Forks Visitor Center.

It's Snowy Owl season again in the Red River Valley.  Now that I live out here, I've started asking people I meet - have you seen any owls?

The answer has been a surprise.  More often than not:  yes!

Electricians doing work on my house last week mentioned one near US 75 north of Warren and another in Viking.   

 

Warren Sewage Lagoons  11/18/11

I spotted the Warren owl, a young male, last Saturday over by the sewage lagoons.   

Shelley Steva spotted one over by Oklee.  Nancy Mattson said her husband spotted one north of Warren and another across the Red River by Grafton.  Faith Rud said a neighbor spotted one along the CRP land south of MN Hwy 1.  And Mary Casavan, Red Lake Falls Librarian said one flew in front of her car on MN Hwy 32 at the Pennington County line.

I was thinking about owls this afternoon as I drove to Thief River Falls for a meeting.  Tom came along for the ride.

Rough-legged Hawk

Along the way, we got a good look at a Rough-legged Hawk in a tree.  Later, where MN Hwy 1 intersects with County Roads 8 & 13, a Northern Shrike flew across the road in front of my car.  As we approached Thief River Falls, I'd just about given up on spotting a Snowy Owl.  

Then just as we passed the sign at the turn to the Thief River Falls sewage lagoons, Tom pointed and said:  pull over - there's there's one up on the pole!

Sure enough, there was a very large female Snowy Owl, watching the cars go by.  We watched her for 15 minutes, then she flew off to the east towards the sewage lagoons.

Another Snowy Owl in northwestern Minnesota - this time, without the snowstorm!

Redpolls in the Snow

My View from the South Beach of Lake Agassiz

It felt like snow this morning - gray, humid and bone-chilling cold.   As I walked out the door, it hit my eyeglasses first, then my cheeks.  The first serious snow of the season.

I had errands in town, but I am averse to driving on icy wet pavement.  So I turned around and went back inside to get my serious, snow-shoveling gloves.  The sky spit a fine white dust.  Later it turned wet.  I was grateful there was no wind.

There is a quiet tranquility in the first snow.

The only sounds came from my shovel, the muffled calls of birds near my feeders and an irritated red squirrel, scolding me for disturbing his peace.

After noon, I took a look out my kitchen window to see who's been visiting my bird feeding station.  Black-capped Chickadees bounced from the sunflower tube to the nearby willow stump, where they whacked open their seeds.  Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers pecked at the peanut butter suet cage.  Both Red- and White-breasted Nuthatches patiently took turns at the sunflower perches.  A handful of demure American Goldfinches lined up at the thistle feeder, sharing it with a lone Pine Siskin.

Then a "new" bird flew up to the thistle tube, scaring off the goldfinches.

At first I thought - another siskin.  But no, the bill was the wrong color and shape.  The new bird turned and cocked his head towards me - a Common Redpoll! The red cap and rosy chest cinched the ID.

My first of the season... and the first I've seen in years.

Common Redpoll

Redpolls, like their boreal cousins, are irruptive species.  According to Ron Pittaway's Winter Finch Forecast, this should be a great winter for spotting redpolls in Minnesota.

How do they know?

Fact #1:  Redpolls eat white birch seeds.  There wasn't much of a crop in Canada this fall.

Fact #2:  Redpolls also had a good breeding season this year - with double and possibly triple broods.

A poor food crop combined with a population explosion creates the "perfect storm" - resulting in an irruption year.

If you want to see them in your yard this winter - keep your sunflower and thistle/nyjer tube feeders full.

Snakes on the Road!

I was out birding this afternoon with Sharon Milnar (a birdwatcher visiting from Delaware) when I spotted what I thought was a snake on Polk County 68.  I pulled off onto the shoulder, stopped the car and hopped out, fully expecting to find a flattened carcass.

 

I certainly didn't expect to see a snake basking on the county road today.  The temperature when I got up this morning was around 25-degrees F.  Apparently the road held enough heat to lure this one out from its burrow.

As I approached, the snake moved its head - it was very much alive!

I calmly walked up to it and tried to coax it back off the road.  It didn't budge.  My sweet talking clearly fell on deaf ears.  And yes, I know snakes have limited hearing capability - they don't have external ears. 

Then I gave it a gentle nudge with my boot.

Why not just pick it up? Long story:  When I was a kid, my brother tossed a garter snake at me.  I didn't see it coming, but I managed to catch it.  The terrified serpent did not appreciate my kindness.  It bit me - then "musked" me - emitting a foul-smelling white liquid (the consistency of old cottage cheese) from its rear end.

Intellectually I know garter snakes are harmless, but I just haven't spent much time 'getting over' my childhood trauma.  That's why I don't pick up snakes.

I nudged this snake again and again - until it finally slithered off into the ditch.

Sharon and I hopped back in the car and headed west on 180th Street.  We didn't get very far before I spotted another snake on the side of the road.

This one didn't take kindly to my advances.  It curled up into a ball, raised its head, opened its mouth wide enough to show a pink lining.  It flicked its forked red tongue (with black tips) and hissed at me.  Clearly agitated, it launched itself towards me, biting at my boot!

Message received.  I immediately backed off.

I was pretty sure it was a garter snake, but I had no clue which species.  So I pulled out my trusty Canon point and shoot camera and snapped a few photos.  Then the snake took the hint and headed back toward the prairie.

When I got home, I pulled out my snake ID books.  Based on the vertical black lines on the yellow upper lip, I narrowed it down to a Plains Garter Snake.

This species prefers grassland habitats near water where it feeds on slugs, salamanders and earthworms.  It has been spotted taking prey as large as rodents, meadowlarks and bank swallows.  They over-winter by hibernating, but it's not unusual to spot these cold-tolerant reptiles on a warm winter day, sunning themselves along side the road.

If you see one...

An October Moth

Erannis tiliaria                 

After a week of unseasonably warm weather (in the 90s), the thermometer has synched with the season.  Frost this morning.   We have a wood stove - today will be the first time I've fired it up. As I headed out the sliding glass door in my living room and headed towards the woodshed, I noticed a pale, small (~1.5 inches) moth clinging to the door frame.  I didn't expect to see a moth so late in the year.  I took a quick, close look, but I didn't have a clue what species it was. It was chilly and I didn't put on a jacket.  So I continued on my way to the woodshed, picked out a couple of logs and headed back inside to get the fire started.  When the heat from the wood stove took the chill out of the air in the house, I picked up my little point-and-shoot camera.  It would only take a minute to get a picture.  That's all it I need to find out the name of my "October" moth.     No, I'm not an entomologist, but I know what they need for an identification.  I downloaded two photos from my camera - and sent them to my favorite insect ID webpage: BugGuide.net.

The answer arrived in my mailbox at 8pm:  it's a cold season, or "winter" moth - a geometrid known as a Linden Looper.   My October moth was doing exactly what the books say it should do.  Adults emerge in the fall and live to breed.  The small (1.5 inch) caterpillars are known as inchworms or loopers because of the way move.  The larvae hatch out in early spring and feed on leaves.  Their favorite trees?  Basswood (also known as linden).  But they don't appear to be picky.  They'll feed on aspen, elm, ash oak, maple, American hornbeam, hickory, apples and cherries too.

After a month or so of eating and moving from leaf to leaf on nearly invisible wisps of web, they burrow into the ground and pupate.  The adults emerge in October.  The wingless females emit pheromones that attract the winged males.  After mating, the females crawl up tree trunks and lay their eggs in crevices and under bark.

They over-winter as eggs.

Ever wonder what chickadees and nuthatches are doing when you see them inspecting tree bark?  They're going after these and other insect eggs.

Linden loopers are known to be irruptive - with population booms and busts.  And yes, they will defoliate trees.  But if you see them in your yard, don't panic and pull out the spray can - birds will take care of them for free.  These caterpillars are baby food for birds.  The moths are food for birds too - the late migrants and year-round residents.