HollerPhenology

Suet thief caught in the act

Recently, I started bringing suet feeders into the house at night because they were being emptied, and probably not by birds. Most of the seed feeders had been showing signs of night raiders as well, but a few adjustments seemed to work to protect those feeders from take downs. Adjusting my timing for restocking ended excessive seed disappearance.

This past weekend, however, the holler went somewhat silent when Shadow, my best friend and watchdog, passed away. I wondered how long it would be until critters I knew were out there in the night holler would start to show up during the day.

Last night, one of those that I suspected as the primary suet-gorger (and feeder-wrecker) came while it was still light enough to get a photo:

Raccoon at the suet log, June 9, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

 

For now I'll probably bring the suet in earlier, but events like this always spark a reassessment of feeding birds and the wildlife that bird feeders may also attract. I'll also watch to see what other animals come closer to the house now. Before I got pets, white-tail deer and wild turkeys came through the yard -- maybe they will again. I've continued to add native flowers and fruit plantings, and reduce (or eliminate) any mowing and brush cutting in areas near the house unless it's for my own safety as I move around the yard. Sometime soon I want to do a post on what I see -- other than plants -- in my planter garden. I'll continue to share thoughts and photos on how I live as a human being and evolve my relationship with all the amazing creatures whose relatives lived around the holler before people did.

 

What's new in the holler and for HollerPhenology

"Yellow Warbler" -- the first assignment for my new nature journal. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Following my decision to "hole up" in the holler around March 2nd, I signed up for the online nature journaling and field sketching course at Cornell Lab of Ornithology's Bird Academy. I have taken other courses there to expand knowledge and sharpen skills for my phenology observation activities on Nature's Notebook -- identifying bird songs and understanding bird behavior, for example.

I didn't anticipate how my work on this course might influence content here on HollerPhenology until I finished the first assignment which was -- prior to any instruction in how to sketch -- to draw a yellow warbler, then think about what advantages drawings have over photos and vice versa. These questions dropped me into the center of future intentions for posts on HollerPhenology.

I have relied, primarily, on my own photos to add visual illustrations of what's happening with life cycles of wild things where I live. Before I put them into a post, however, I often use my photos to validate what I thought I saw. Since images are time-stamped, they serve to back up memory chronology as well. Photos of one individual or colony over several years can document changes in the "neighborhood" of a certain plant that I might not remember.

Sketching the yellow warbler took me into a different (and unexpected) space, a deeper and possibly more intimate one with the species I observe. I want to explore this experience further. Every once in awhile, I want to toss a sketch instead of a photo into my posts, or maybe both, side by side.

Another thing I want to do with HollerPhenology will involve shorter posts published (I hope!) more often. The need to limit excursions beyond the holler in these days of the coronvirus may help inspire me to anchor this new habit.

I guess it's spring now.

Amur honeysuckle (Lonicera maackii) leaves on March 12, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I'm going to start this post with an ecopsychological observation as well as a phenological one. This past January 8th, I sensed (rather than saw) a fluttering outside my study window, and turned just in time to see an eastern comma flapping -- somewhat frantically, I thought -- against the glass.

Granted, commas are often the first butterfly species I see every year. But not in January. I felt little joy in seeing it. It was way too early. With some urgency I wondered if I was missing new phenophases of other species I observe in the holler. I often reduce the frequency of holler walks in the winter months. Physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually for me, it was still winter. I did not feel ready for it to be spring. And if there were things popping up and out already, I had concerns for the consequences to each and every one of them.

Multiflora rose (Rosa multiflora) on March 10, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

As calendar-winter went on -- with continued warm spells punctuated by serious cold ones, and more rain, more often than I have ever seen since I moved to Tennessee -- I noted that no trees, shrubs or forbs were taking the bait. My quince bushes eventually began to produce small flower buds, but they didn't swell or open, and endured a few 9- and 10-degree lows very well. By mid-February, daffodils were up and flowering throughout the larger Terry Creek drainage to which my holler's creeks contribute. Orange day lily and Siberian iris leaves began poking through the leaf cover on raised beds around my house.

Cutleaf Toothwort (Dentaria laciniata) on March 12, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

By the end of the first week of March, I had observed new, full leaves of Amur honeysuckle and multiflora rose, forsythia flowers, and first leaves of one of the cutleaf toothworts I have flagged (photos above).

Sharp-lobed Hepatica (Hepatica acutiloba), emerging leaves. March 12, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Now I'm also seeing leaves of sharp-lobed Hepatica, and Dogtooth violets (though not in the 2-sq.ft. plots I have marked). All of the red maples I observe for Nature's Notebook have open flowers, and members of this species all the way from the holler down to Knoxville are in some stage of emergence.

Sharp-lobed Hepatica (Hepatica acutiloba) leaves. March 12, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Up in the bird world (I saw/heard very few birds this winter up here in the holler, another point of concern) I've seen and heard an eastern phoebe hanging around old nest sites and calling for a mate. Blue jays, chickadees and cardinals are moving back up into the holler from fields down below. Many of these birds come up here to nest in the forested areas around my house.

And, of course, with the movement of these smaller birds comes the more frequent hunting parties of a resident hawk (red-shouldered or broad-winged, not sure which). I even saw some wild turkeys up in the air last week. And heard some barred owls.

I think it's spring. I've increased the number of phenology observation days significantly. And that feels okay now.