March 31, 2024: Song Sparrow Surprise

Happy Easter!

We are lucky to fit Easter in between late winter snow storms.  I was up in Franconia Notch after last weekend's big storm for what I though would be my last powder day of the season - Cannon Mountain is beautiful on a bright winter day.

Cannon Ski area with the Franconia Range looming behind.

I don't have a lot of confidence in weather forecasts after the last storm dropped twice as much snow as predicted, but they're forecasting another nice snowfall in the middle of this week, so maybe we'll get one more last powder day of the season.

With both the winter birds and the early migrating birds in the area we had quite a few visitors to the bird feeder which we put back out for a couple of days during and after the snow.  There was one very pretty bird on the feeder that I didn't recognize.

It had a long bronze colored tail and sharp markings on its back.  I'm embarrassed to say that when I looked it up I found it was a Song Sparrow.  I guess they've never shown me their backside before - I've always considered them to be rather plain brown bird, but this perspective taught me to never judge another being until I thoroughly understand it!

We saw plenty of snowbirds, chickadees, goldfinches and mourning doves, as well as more pine siskins, and they all very much enjoying food not buried under the snow.  Goldfinches, snowbirds, and pine siskins are plenty happy with the small millet seeds.

Small birds with small beaks are very happy with small seeds.

But not the White-breasted Nuthatches.

No thank you.

Nuthatches are never satisfied with small seeds - it dropped this rejected morsel down onto the snow for some other bird to have and went back to shovel through the feeder for a seed more to its liking.

This one will do.

One of our many beavers came by early enough in the evening for me to get a good picture of it swimming by.

A large beaver cruising the lake early one evening.

When you have something for perspective you can see how much larger this rodent is than the mink that went by a couple of weeks ago.

As everyone has heard, the big astronomical event of the decade for New England occurs in just over a week on Monday, April 8th when there will be a total eclipse of the sun in northern New Hampshire.  It may be my last opportunity to experience a total eclipse, though being April, my expectations for a clear sky aren't high.  But with such a rare event, I'll be ready for it if we get lucky.  The Lakes Region isn't quite in the path of totality, but it will still be a good show with about 97% of the sun blocked by the moon.  If conditions are even slightly favorable I'll probably fight the crowds and head up north to experience the complete blotting out of the sun.  Lancaster is right on the edge of totality, and I expect there will be a lot people heading up Route 93 to Lancaster and points north, so it might be a bit of fiasco.  But with another total eclipse not visible in New England for over 50 years, I'll give it a shot.  From my recollection of an eclipse years ago it won't get totally dark, but it will still be neat to be able to see the corona around the sun.  I even got a solar filter for our binoculars so we can get a good look at the event, and I purchased another filter for my camera.  I know I won't be taking pictures that rival what the professionals will capture, but it will be fun to see what I can get.  

From what I've read, taking pictures of an eclipse is challenging due to the dramatic changes in light intensity between even a sliver of sun being exposed and the moment of total eclipse, especially when you have only seconds during totality.  So I did a little practicing with the sun and the moon.  The solar filter is pretty neat, letting me see sun spots on the surface of the sun.

Sunspots visible with a solar filter that blocks over 99% of the light.

A new crescent moon a couple of weeks ago showed the challenges of photographing different brightness levels.

Those two pictures are of the same moon just moments apart, but with the first photo exposed to show craters on the crescent of the sunlit surface and the second showing the dark side of the moon.  The second photo has a much longer exposure to capture what appears as total blackness in the first picture, but is actually lit up very dimly by light from the sun, reflected off the earth back toward the dark side of the moon, then after hitting the moon being reflected back to earth into my camera.  The long exposure means the lit crescent is highly overexposed, and even a few bright stars are visible in the second photo.

All this preparation before an event that might not even be visible in the often cloudy days of April, but if we can see it, it could be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  

But before that happens, maybe there's one more good powder day in store for us?

February 27, 2022: Snowshoe Hares in the Notch

Winter returned this week - after a brief glimpse of Spring on Monday when the temperatures rose to the mid 50s, climbing up to 58 on our thermometer.  So that was the day I took a hike up Cannon Mountain in Franconia Notch, and while it was a beautiful day, sunny and calm, it still certainly looked like winter above 3500'.

Kinsman Ridge Trail on Cannon Mountain.

Even in that harsh environment there are a few hardy critters that eke out a living high above the notch.  I found lots of tracks of snowshoe hares all along, even in the trail.  

Snowshoe Hare tracks dotted the landscape above 3700'.

The snowshoe hare is a wonderfully adapted animal with large hind feet which let it hop along the snow giving it an advantage in escaping its pursuers which include fox, coyote, bobcat, and lynx.  (I did see predator tracks near the hare tracks but I couldn't identify them.)  These hares also have fur on the bottom of their feet to protect them from the cold.  In the winter they sustain themselves by eating bark and twigs of trees.  Another valuable trait, shared by other hares and rabbits, is having multiple litters per year, producing lots of offspring which balances their high attrition rate.  Snowshoe hares are nocturnal, giving them an additional level of protection, though owls, another significant predator of hares, have also adapted to hunting in low light.  And then there's the hare's heavy fur which changes color twice a year:  white fur in the winter, mottled brown in the summer, both to blend in with their surroundings.

For all these reasons, I've never seen a snowshoe hare itself but have seen their tracks in many places, often near the summits of mountains including Cannon, Welch, Roberts, Whiteface, and Morgan.  But they are present at lower elevations too, including around the lakes.  I've seen their tracks in the Hamlin Forest on the Red and White Trails as well as right near downtown Meredith in Community Forest.

Recent snowshoe hare tracks in Hamlin, February 5th.

I also saw two bird species high up on the summit of Cannon:  Common Redpolls, and a single Pine Grossbeak.  I heard the redpolls before I saw them, just below the summit at an elevation of 3850'.  I stopped to see what was chattering and soon saw a few redpolls in the stunted spruce trees.  Then another group flew in.  Then another dozen or so, starting to make quite a racket.  They all took off together and circled around over me, and then another group joined in, and then another, and another joined the swirling flock, until there were at least 50 of them flying in ragged circles just above the tree tops before the entire flock spun off out of sight.  I'm confident in my estimate of well over 50 based on my recent counting of goldfinches in the trees around our birdfeeders.  I've counted up to 30, and when they took off, their flock was considerably smaller than this gang of redpolls.

Just a portion of our goldfinch flock, about 20 right there.  Many more were perched in the branches of the oak trees.  (Plus one dark-eyed junco waiting its turn on the feeder.)

The single Pine Grossbeak I saw was even closer to the summit of the mountain, and acting so nonchalantly beside the trail that I first thought it was a Canada Jay looking for a handout.  (Canada Jays are so bold they will come to land on your hand if you offer it with some trail mix.)  But when I got a better look - and listen - I determined it was a pine grossbeak.  I only had my phone with me, so this is the best picture I got (and no pictures of the fast moving redpolls).

A pine grossbeak at 4000' on the summit of Cannon Mountain.

It didn't have the rose or yellow coloring I would expect (leading me to the initial jay thought) but their coloration is quite variable and its distinctive song told me it was a grossbeak.  I was also in the right habitat:  subalpine spruce-fir forest.

We also had a different finch at our feeder this week, a house finch, our first of the year, but again, no pictures for you - it was here and gone in a minute.  I have Linda's quick eye to thank for catching it.

On Superbowl Sunday I mentioned that owls were starting to mate, and the woodpeckers aren't far behind.  I heard the back and forth rat-a-rat of two downy woodpeckers staking out their mating territory in the woods last week.  One would bang away on a hard, dead, resonant snag to let all know he has claimed that piece of the woods, and as as soon as it stopped another bird far away answered back with its reply from his home turf.  As long as the two birds keep their distance and each hears only a faint hammering, all will be well.  But if one moves in too close to the other, there will be trouble.   

This downy woodpecker must be looking for food - I think he knows this is too small for a nest!

With eight inches of sparkling light snow on Friday, winter is back.  It's hard to remember that on Monday was 50 degrees with the streams flowing like spring.

Spring melt runs into the Mill Brook on February 18th.

And then yesterday:

February 26th.  Photo by Linda Powell.

Scenery sure changes rapidly in a New Hampshire winter.

March 14, 2021: The Champion of Camouflage

I was walking along the Pemi Trail in Franconia Notch one morning this week when a silent streak of motion caught my eye.  Large wings then expanded and flared as a creature that could only be a barred owl settled gracefully a few dozen yards off the trail.  Though I knew where it had landed, a careful examination of the area could not locate the bird.  As I was about to give up, thinking I had hallucinated in the early morning, the owl turned its head, making just enough motion for me to find it, perfectly hidden among the grey and white hardwood forest.  By the time I dug into my backpack to pull out the camera, it had disappeared.  I figured it had flown off silently while my head was down even though I was trying to keep the area in my peripheral vision so I'd detect any motion.  

Trying to remember just what tree it was on, I studied up and down the trunk carefully, and yes - there it was, staring right at me.  I brought the camera up to my eye, and it was gone again.  Camera down, study the tree again, there it was.  I repeated this a couple of times and finally gave up trying to find the bird in the camera viewfinder, and just took a picture of the general area knowing the master of disguise would be there.  I had to zoom the picture way in to convince myself I really caught it.  Can you find the champion of camouflage in this forest scene?

How about now?

It's still surprisingly hard to make it out, though there's no doubt it's there.

The same photo, blown up.

A remarkably successful natural evolution on display.  Barely.  

I have a feeling these silent predators are eating quite well at the moment - as are all the local predators - because the gray squirrel population seems to be exploding.  I'm not the only one that has observed an abundance of gray squirrels around lately, though I haven't yet found someone that exceeded our count of ten squirrels under the feeders at the same time.  

All that motion squirming around on the ground reminded me that they are in the same family as rats....  At least we have trained them to stick to their own feeders and stay off those for the birds.

The squirrels have their own feeders to exploit.

Female squirrels are especially ravenous right now because they're pregnant and need extra resources to develop their young and prepare to nurse them.  The next generation will be born this month, blind and completely reliant on their mother for about five weeks (the father is off gallivanting with other females).  A litter usually consists of one to four young, with higher numbers produced when winter food is plentiful.  And if a mother thinks one of those hungry owls or another predator has a bead on its nest, it will move the litter to another location, carrying each of its young to a new safe house.  The whole process will be repeated again in late summer as they produce a second litter - perhaps we're on our way to another squirrel-adeggon this summer.

Those warm, sun-filled days this past week had me thinking about spring as the sun melted away a lot of snow and large puddles formed on top of the ice.

Even though there are still 21 inches of ice to be liquified it's not too early to be thinking about loon season (I saw my first migrating duck near the outlet of Lake Wicwas yesterday).  The Loon Preservation Committee has been preparing for loon season all winter long while watching them in their temporary home at the Atlantic Ocean.  In their latest newsletter they have a picture of one loon feasting on a culinary delicacy they can't enjoy in the Lakes Region:

Fresh lobster for dinner!  (LPC Photo)

I'd love to see how the loon is going to tackle that meal!  

If you don't receive the Loon Preservation Committee newsletters you can sign up for them here:  LPC Newsletter.

Another sign of what's to come:  Snowdrops are poking their heads up in warm sunny spots between the snow banks.

Snowdrops, the first flower of spring.

If however, you want winter to last a bit longer, fear not, you only have to travel a bit north to know that winter will be around many weeks to come.

Plenty of winter left at 3500' elevation in Franconia Notch.

The Franconia Range seen from the Cannon Cliffs.

Old Man Winter still has plenty of cards left to play.