Whooping Crane Migration Training at Necedah-II

We now have 69 rare whooping cranes living in the wild and migrating through eastern North America. The sight of these birds never ceases to thrill me. I have had the good fortune of visiting the wild whooping crane population at Aransas National Wildlife Refuge on the gulf coast of Texas and this week, the re-introduced wild population at Necedah National Wildlife Refuge in Wisconsin, and I am grateful every day for the men and women whose dedication and persistence have helped this species recover from the brink of extinction.
A natural survival mechanism combined with man's innovation has made this eastern migratory population possible. Through a natural instinct called imprinting, a newly hatched chick bonds with and follows the first figure that it sees. It is this natural instinct that makes it possible for captive reared hatchlings to accept costumes and ultralights as though they were parents, so that migration training can occur.
I positioned myself at the bottom of the tower the morning of Necedah's Cranefest.It offers a different perspective and some challenges...hungry mosquitos and high foliage.
But both tower level and ground level give you excellent views.
Mature whooping cranes are white with black wing tips, a bare patch of red skin on the top of their head and a black facial mask.
Juvenile whooping cranes still have cinnamon feathers on their head, neck and body and no facial mask.
There will be 15 juvenile whooping cranes and four ultralight parents beginning their migration south on October 17 or as weather permits. This will add another generation of whooping cranes to the world's rarest crane species. You can follow their journey by viewing Operation Migration's field journal. And for kids, check out Journey North's reports on the whooping crane migration.
Click here for more posts on whooping cranes.
Submitted to Bird Photography Weekly #5.

Whooping Crane Migration Training at Necedah-I

Early morning whooping crane migration training at Necedah National Wildlife Refuge in Wisconsin. Part of our whooping crane class of 2008 being led in practice by Operation Migration pilot, Chris Gullikson, on Friday morning. Below a view of the refuge from the observation tower, an area normally covered in water that has been drained temporarily to promote the release and distribution of wetland nutrients.
Blue asters found all around the refuge. The flowers are about the size of a dime and come in delicate shades of blue.

Mornings start early here and end late. Will post more soon!

Ruby-throated Hummingbirds--III

It was a different kind of morning. The air was cooler, breezier, overcast.
I took my cup of coffee and my camera outside, knowing it was the last day I would get to observe hummingbirds before leaving for Wisconsin. I first spotted The King, our resident male ruby-throated hummingbird, high on his perch, fluffed up and pensive. A short time later, after warning off a visitor, he dropped down to the holly as he is prone to do when it’s windy. He sat there quietly plumped up for a long while in the dim morning light.
A Carolina wren, who also likes this perch, displaced him for a short time, but since this busy songster can never be still, he was soon gone and The King returned. When I next observed, an hour or so later, the stillness was palpable. I can’t explain how I knew, but I knew. He was gone. I looked for him at his perches, watched for any movement among the limbs, waited for the faintest sound of chirping from above. Nothing. Then the parade of visitors came, among them the young and inexperienced, the late fledglings.
If I needed any confirmation, I had it. They approached the feeder chirping, awkwardly stabbing for a drink, lingering for many tries, more than I had observed before. No King pounced on them or chased them away.
Were it not for the heartening comedy put on by this new generation, I might have slumped into dispair. They reminded me of an infant first discovering his hands, eager to use them, but not quite skilled enough to know how. Much the same, they approached the feeder from every angle, awkwardly missing, backing up, trying again. Endearing, especially knowing all they must master before they, too, begin their southward journey.
Fall migration. It is that wonderful, stirring time of year. The King has departed. I so wish him a safe and speedy journey. I wish this for them all.

Ruby-throated Hummingbirds--II

The King is camera shy sometimes. I sit in the same place every time I visit and try to move predictably.
Sometimes he could care less about my presence. Other times, he chirps and zips to the other side of the feeder, or even switches to a different feeder out of range. Today I got some lucky shots. Don't you just love those irridescent feathers?And the tuffs of white poking out from beneath his belly?
I set out to observe today and confirm he was still around. I'm curious about when he will begin migration. I'm also enjoying seeing him sleek, preened and fattening up for his journey.

I suspect we may depart near the same time. I will miss him when he's gone.
For all my posts on the "King" click here.

Gourd Art and Whooping Cranes

My kitchen has been transformed into a studio, the table filled with unfinished gourd art and pine needles ready for coiling. Not that the kitchen ever poses as a domestic center, anyway. It more closely resembles a studio much of the time as projects come and go.
Earlier in the week, the same table was scattered with ink illustrations for an exciting children’s book project that I will return to later. But for now, it’s exhibit time, time to finish up and organize the art that will travel with me next week, to the Whooping Crane Wildlife Festival in Necedah, WI.
There I will reunite with whooping crane enthusiasts around the country and with Operation Migration’s crew and staff. If the weather cooperates, we’ll all visit the observation tower to watch this year’s juvenile whooping cranes in flight training over the Necedah NWR wetlands as they follow ultralight aircraft piloted by Operation Migration crew members.The photos above and below were taken at a flight training in September of 2007 as I stood at ground level beside the observation tower. The young trainees were hugging the ground that morning with pilot Brook Pennypacker encouraging them to a higher altitude.
It is a thrill to see these fledged juveniles and to witness an endangered species being aided by these innovative efforts.

Detail of unfinished pine needle coil on a hard shell gourd basket.

Below, woodburned sandhill crane art on small hardshell gourds, ready to be coiled.
Detail of art on the bottom of a piece with date and signature.

Cades Cove Black Bear

The prospect of bear and deer feasting on summer’s bounty lured me to Cades Cove in the Smokies for a brief visit. Brief is the operative word, here. I only have two photos to show for it. Intent on searching for bears, I passed other beauties, like the clumps of black-eyed Susans dotting the forest edges and the delicate white-tailed does that seemed to be everywhere. This one bear photo brings back all the detail—the yellow-green light shining through the canopy, the soft carpet of ferns, pine needles and moss among the boulders, the disarray of fallen tree trunks, the thick, black fur of this young female as she wove her way through it all.

I’m already sketching this image in my head, so rich was the moment of crossing the creek and watching her at a safe distance. I passed a rock she had moved, the clean dirt pattern of its shape shadowing beneath its new position. She moved along nonchalantly, until tiring of observation, she gracefully leaped over a cluster of boulders and loped out of sight.

That brings a laugh to my heart, always. I love seeing bears, but I love their freedom and privacy, too. I enjoy that moment of disappearance and imagine a life in a pristine world, undisturbed.
Above, an eight-point white-tailed buck who studied me for an instant before returning to foraging on over-head leaves.

Ruby-throated Hummingbirds-I

The King is still here. I keep thinking any day now he will depart for Central America...
but I don't know when the resident males generally leave their breeding territories in east Tennessee. Our male is still on territory, challenging migrant visitors. But he’s also slowing down a bit, away from the feeder more and, hopefully, fattening up on insects.

His appearance is more preened and healthy now, compared to this photo below, taken in July.
And below, a petite visitor...
According to Robert Sargent, in his book, Ruby-throated Hummingbird, hummers binge to put on weight prior to migration, gaining from their normal .1 to .12 ounce weight to .19 to .22 ounces. “Just an additional .07 ounce of fat likely gives them enough fuel for their transgulf migration—under normal conditions, a nonstop journey of 18 to 22 hours without feeding."
Amazing numbers. It’s no wonder we are so fascinated with these tiniest of birds.

White Tailed Doe

It was with innocent intent that I set out to snap a distant photo of two spotted fawns, their delicate faces and alert ears just visible over the grasses in the spacious yard.

But what I encountered was new to me and had me apologetically backtracking to safety.

A deer’s retina is composed almost entirely of rods, enabling them to see well in the dark, but inhibiting their ability to recognize still objects. This doe was the look-out in what turned out to be a small band of three does and two fawns.

When I stopped to snap her picture before moving a little further to capture the fawns, she turned to face me and began a stiff-legged, slow-stepping approach. I wasn’t sure what this meant and mistakenly thought, being still was the way to avoid disturbing her. But this is not entirely the case. As I stood still, snapping her photo, she continued her stiff-legged steps toward me. Then came a loud “blow”. This I had never encountered before. Was she going to charge? Certainly, she was tense. By the second blow, seconds later, I began my retreat to a safer distance. She snorted one more time and continued to watch me in stillness.

According to Leonard Rue, author of The Deer of North America, both the blow and the stiff-legged approach are designed to encourage an intruder to move so she can get a better look at the threat. Deer don’t flee blindly. They investigate so that they know which way to run for safety. While, in hindsight, I think this deer was doing just that, investigating and letting her band know there was an intruder near, I did ask a nature photographer friend if he had ever been charged by a doe. The answer was “yes.”

It’s always a good idea to follow one’s intuition.