Dance of the Timberdoodles

Spring is in the air and the animals are showing their enthusiasm by displaying their love for one another. Some animals have quite strange ways of showing their affection and attracting a mate. One such creature is the unique looking American Woodcock also called the timberdoodle or bog sucker.

Their strange looks help them to survive. Their large eyes help them to see above to avoid an aerial assault when they are feeding and they use their long bills to probe into the ground for juicy earthworms. Did you know these plump timberdoodles are shorebirds? It’s true, they just happen to be the only ones that frequent such places as forests and fields.

I always get so excited to hear the Woodcocks; it’s a sure sign that winter has finally ended! I usually hear them in late March, early April up at Lab Hollow when we do our Amphibian Alert (as you read about in Tom’s previous blog post). Lately I have been hearing them almost every night in the field next to my house in Skaneateles. Have you heard this nasally peeent call? It’s the male calling loudly to the females that he’s here and ready for action! Check out the funny video below to experience this sound for yourself!

Another way male Woodcocks attract the females is by showing off their fancy dance moves which the video below captures perfectly!

The most unique part of the mating ritual happens at dusk. The male Woodcocks perform their sky dance while making whistling noises with their wings. It’s really quite impressive the way they zig and zag in the air, looking like a rotund bat! Once they have spiraled down from high in the air they chirp and then land silently near a female (if she is nearby) and begin to peent – inviting the female in for a private dance for two.

Woodcocks are ground nesters and the females lay their eggs about a month after accepting the male’s invitation. The males are not involved in the rearing of the young and will meet several other females before spring is over. Being that they are ground nesters and thus susceptible to predators the young need to be up and out of the nest soon after hatching. They will stick around the area though to get eating pointers from mom.

It’s not too late to get out and observe these amazing shorebirds in action! At dusk find a field and there is a good chance you will hear the call. Isn’t love grand?

The Big Night

Spring nights hold a certain magic for me. After the long silent winter nights, there’s something energizing and refreshing about the sounds and smells of a spring night.

Earlier this week I took a drive down to Labrador Hollow in search of all that a spring evening has to offer. I pulled into the parking area just after 7:00 pm, as the sun was sinking and painting the sky pink and blue. My hatchback is just tall enough for me to sit back with the door open, affording me a view of the large fields and the surrounding hillsides.

It wasn’t long before the magic began. From my right I could hear spring peepers singing their high pitched songs. A barred owl called out from somewhere on that hillside, “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?” From above came the twittering of a courting woodcock as it flew in slow circles against the now deep blue sky. The moon was bright and full, illuminating the field and casting soft shadows.

It was almost time…

Gathering my camera equipment, headlamp, and tall waterproof boots, I began the walk down the road in search of one of the most magical events of spring. For anyone who has attended one of our Amphibian Alert Programs, you will know exactly what I’m about to describe…

Walking along the moonlit road, directing my headlamp at every stick, rain puddle, or drifting leaf, I searched for the stragglers of a yearly event known to herpetologists as the “Big Night”.

Yellow-spotted salamander (Ambystoma maculatum)

There! I see the outline of an 8-inch long spotted salamander, head held upright as it scouts the road which it must cross. And there was another! And there – a wood frog! Toads! A little bouncing ball springs across the road – a peeper! Listening carefully I could hear the rustle of leaves as salamanders crawled down the hillside on their way to the vernal pools – those ephemeral ponds, existing in depressions only so long as the water table remains high. 

Yellow-spotted salamander (Ambystoma maculatum)

Wood frog (Lithobates sylvaticus)

Jefferson salamander (Ambystoma jeffersonianum)

Coming up on one of the pools the first thing I noticed was the constant high pitched peep! of spring peepers – the smallest of our native New York frogs, not much bigger than your thumb pad. But they win for sheer vocal volume. Standing too close to a pool full of singing peepers is an experience more felt than heard as the pulsing of hundreds of peepers turns to a weird drumming sensation in your ears. 

Spring peeper (Pseudacris crucifer)

Swimming wood frog (Lithobates sylvaticus)

Wood frogs gurgled away, expanding special sacs on their sides, forcing air back and forth over their vocal chords. Shining my headlamp across the pool I was greeted with a hundred round spots of light reflecting back at me, every one a wood frog eye. 

Swimming yellow-spotted salamanders (Ambystoma maculatum)

Jefferson’s and spotted salamanders moved along the bottom of the pool, crawling through leaves, over one another, occasionally rising to the surface. The males are competing for a chance to bump noses with a female, after which they will deposit a white column on the leaf litter, called a spermatophore. The female will later move through and pick up one of these columns using her cloacal vent at the base of her tail, making these salamanders to be one of the few amphibians that utilize internal fertilization.

This explosion of sound and life happens just once a year, on that first warm rainy night. Some years it may last a few days, if conditions are not ideal. And then, just a few days later, they are gone. The pools are quiet and still, the moment has passed, and all that’s left to show for it are gelatinous egg masses in the water, hope for the future. In a few weeks the eggs will hatch, the salamander larvae will develop and eventually move up into the forest where they will spend the rest of the year in dark tunnels. 

Next year they will make the half-mile trek back to the vernal pools to repeat the process all over again. And on that first warm rainy night of spring, you can bet I’ll be there too, watching for the magic, more than ready to share my own eagerness for spring and life, and not in the least deterred by a little rain.  

Blog post by Tom Meier

Maple Magic

If you live in central New York, you have probably seen Sugar Maple trees decorated with buckets and tubes, collecting sap to make that sticky pancake topping we adore. Last week when I was sitting underneath a grand Sugar Maple, preparing to teach our Nature in the City first graders about this remarkable process, I noticed something astonishing. I was surrounded by the maple’s winged helicopter seeds and they were all standing vertically as if they had grown straight up out of the Earth. 

A sea of seedlings. Do you see??

Upon further inspection I realized that they actually were growing out of the Earth! Thousands of Maple seeds had sprouted and the winged seed coats were still clinging to the little seedlings, protecting the baby leaves until they outgrew their tiny shelter. They had waited under the snow all winter long for this breathtaking event.

Standing sprouts

Sprouting samara

After doing some literal digging to inspect the infant Maples, I did some figurative digging and discovered that Sugar Maples tend to produce massive amounts of viable seeds cyclically, usually at 2 to 5 year intervals. This great Mother Maple must have done something right because she certainly had one of these good years. I can imagine the school 30 years later, surrounded by a forest of Sugar Maples in the middle of Syracuse. Alas, the seedlings’ fate is sealed; in a few weeks they will all be cut along with the grass, but I will not forget this magical event. It just goes to show that no matter how much time you spend outdoors, nature will always have new surprises in store.

Blog post by Emily Van Ness

MUD

There are so many signs of spring. Robins greet our freshly found, green ground. Sap is circulating inside trees. Buds are beginning to bulge, waiting for their moment to burst. Rivers and creeks flow free from frozen cover. But, perhaps the most magnificent mark of spring is the squishy brown, moist earth we call mud.

Mud for days. Photo credit: Emily Lawson

After a heavy, earth hardening winter a few spring showers soften our soil into a goopy goodness. This transformation from compact to creamy clay creates ideal conditions for one of my favorite groups of animals – amphibians! Mucking around in mud are salamanders, frogs, and toads! Their sensitive skin desires defense against desiccation, or drying out. So, when spring brings wet weather, and I see my first mud puddle I know my permeable companions are not far behind!

A salamander loves the the slimy mud. Photo credit: Tom Meier

A green frog enjoys the mud and sunshine. Photo credit: Tom Meier

Following in amphibian footsteps, mud makes a happy habitat for me. I love squishing mud between my toes, making mud prints with my hands, and masking my face with the milky material! I look forward to meeting with friends in the forest to dine over mud pies and play, eager for the first person to start a mud fight after our imaginary meal.

Swamp day for Baltimore Woods summer campers! Photo credit: Tracy Laszlo

So after the next spring down pour, search for amphibians and slather yourself in the soft earth!

Plenty of mud. Photo credit: Emily Lawson

Blog post by Emily Lawson