February 22 Ducks Say Still Winter

A group of mallards (Anas platyrhynchos) has been living on the Yahara River for most of this winter, swimming back and forth to stay in open water. 30 were hunkered down on the ice today, and while a few noticed me, stretched, and cleaned their wing feathers as if readying to move, they realized it was too cold and tucked their heads back in. This posture is the same as if we lay down underneath a down blanket. In extreme cold (today's wind chill was -15 F), waterfowl will tuck their legs in underneath and bill and head into their feathers. The feathers aren't warm: they zip together to create airspace between the duck's fat layer and the sealed feathers, which traps body heat. So their insulation depends on air. The Internet tells me humans have known about feather warmth forever, but we've only worn those hip down vests and jackets since the 1940s. If our feather-filled sleeping bags or coats get soaked, they no longer proved any warmth since the airspace is flattened. Ducks, though, can dry their feathers in seconds by flapping their wings. This is why they can take naps on their ice beds in -15 degree winds. I am impressed.

February 21 Last Ski of the Season?

I was skiing at Odana Golf Course today and enjoying 25 degrees for a change. I was really warm, actually, and the sun peaked out for a good part of my ride. The only activity were a few singing cardinals and the stories of night life left behind in rabbit, muskrat, and fox tracks near the ponds. This image was my favorite of the day, a honey locust seed pod leaning on a white pine cone. These were a few feet from the track, far from trees in any direction. Both have very small seeds encased in a woody skeleton, and I wonder how long they will have to decompose or how much weathering they need before the seeds escape to the soil. Will that happen by the end of this coming summer? Will it take several years? If left alone, who can say, but the lawn mower will likely shred them both if they stay put for another month. 

February 20 Skunk Cabbage Appearing

Again at the Arboretum this afternoon, I went out through Wingra Woods to find a rumored patch of skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) growing in a spring near the road. Several of these clumps of green shoots were growing up through the water, boldly meeting the single digit air temperatures of late. Is this plant suicidal? No. Turns out that skunk cabbage can grow during a frozen February through its thermogenesis ability: the plant heats itself up on average 36 degrees F above the air temperature by regularly converting stored starches plus carbon dioxide into energy, allowing it to push through frozen soil if need be. This keeps it above freezing the majority of the time. In a short time these three inch sprouts will grow to 20 inches and unfold to reveal the coming flowers in the center of the bunch. Stay tuned for the plant to take shape and later we'll tear a leaf open to get a whiff of the pungent odor referred to in this plant's common name. (**I previously had an incorrect photo for this day. This is skunk cabbage, shot on March 7, twice as big as it would have been on Feb 20**)

February 19 Raptor Workday

Walking into Wingra Woods this afternoon at the Arboretum I scared this red-tailed hawk off the snow and watched it perch and look back at me. It rubbed its beak on the branch and ruffled its feathers for a while before flying a little further away. I was sure that I had disturbed it from eating and a few more steps led me to the evidence. Squirrels have been more active now that they are courting and chasing, and this one must have been on the ground a little to long. Last night and tonight the lows are around -15 F with the wind, bringing big calorie needs to hawks and squirrels alike. I saw three other red-tailed hawks hunting over the next hour.

February 18 An Eccentric Snowperson

This recent focus on snow art has been entirely unplanned. I've seen more snowmen that squirrels over the past 3 days and so I figure it's a good week for this story. I notice here that the body is one mound of snow and wonder if it had to be built that way because the snow was already too cold to pack early last week after the big dump. I liked the spruce arms and thought the yellow aura over the head was a curious addition. If kids never see Frosty or TV snowmen would a snowman still be the first thing they think of to make when they realize snow can be rolled into stuff? Are snowmen popular in Canada? Russia? Iceland?

February 17 Homemade Snow Art

The theme of human made phenology continues here, as I saw this stocky bird (penguin? toucan? angry bird?) and a tower made of thin ice slabs during a run through the Regent neighborhood. I wondered if there is anything inside the tower and what someone used to make dozens of panes of ice to make it.

February 16 Creatures From Winter Fest

Today on state street near the square there were leftover snow and ice carvings from Winter Fest over the weekend. Bucky badger was my favorite ice sculpture and this one-eyed cartoon was the best snow sculpture. A close second was batman, who may or may not still be standing. Single digit weather will keep most of these intact for a while if you're interested in seeing them.

February 15 Everything is Awesome

I went for a sunset walk tonight through the Lakeshore Preserve and saw very little. At dusk I heard two barred owls call back and forth, and looked for them until my hands were frozen.  Since we are now past the middle of the month and well past the middle of winter, it's a good time for an update on things. This week gray squirrels were getting territorial - I saw several chase scenes and trees with four and five squirrels vying for mating position. A woman from Fitchburg told me she found an antler shed last Saturday, which is about two weeks early for that event compared to average. We currently have 24 inches of snow for the entire winter, which isn't a record low, but lowest since 1967. Someone has created a seating area with ice blocks and a few sculptures, including this ice lego person out on Lake Mendota. February is feeling like a month of winter, which will make the inevitable meltdown sweeter when it arrives. For now, everything is cool...

February 14 Sure Why Not

My camera doesn't zoom quite enough to get a clear shot of a cardinal, so this is the more realistic view as one tries to get close enough to see them. Every day this week I've heard male cardinals singing their song, and it reminds me of summers in my hometown of Homewood. There are a lot of cardinals to see where there is dense brush growing along the bike paths in town. Red is said to be the most interesting color to the human eye, which is probably why a lot of holidays and sports teams use it. If the northern cardinal were an extremely rare species here (like snowy owls) people would drive for days to see it. Luckily there are hundreds in town, so treat yourself to a song and some color, you may only need to step out your front door. 

February 13 Mourning Dove Camoflauge

Yesterday's owl was easy to pick out, but today on the same bike route south of Lake Monona I spotted a less noticeable bird, this time in a pitch pine tree. Now, I know that this is a mourning dove (Zenaida marcoura) because there was another one tucked in near the trunk of the tree that I could see a bit better. Plus the blue eye-ring is a giveaway. But I stood still for a few minutes looking at this one from about ten feet away and it was content to watch me watch it. Some birds feel comfortable if there is a branch and a few needles between them and a ground predator. Others, like cardinals, like several tree's worth of space for safety. You can see mourning doves on power lines any day, and know them by their long tails, tan bodies, and pigeon size.

February 12 My New Favorite Bird

I was riding my bike home from the Nature Center when, hark, an owl up in a spruce tree! It was so still at first that I thought it might be an illusion, but a better look revealed the eyes, ears, and definite, real feathers. This is an eastern screech owl (Megascops asio), and from what I read it is a red morph, most commonly seen in the Midwest (there are also gray and brown morphs). A little owl at only 8-10 inches tall, the eastern screech needs trees to perch on, hunt from, and nest in, and that is the extent of its habitat needs. Like most owls they are night hunters, but I this must have been hunting (or at least napping in the sun while hunting) when I saw it at noon under bright blue skies. I thanked it repeatedly for being there for me to see.

February 11 Alpenglow on the Capitol

If you visit mountains with open rock tops (think granite cliffs of Yosemite) you can see what they call "Alpenglow" during sunset. As the sun lowers, its light appears more red when it reflects off of the rock - or this afternoon, off of the State Capitol. Also in the picture is one of the piles of snow on the square that I'm beginning to think is left by the city on purpose to make traffic in intersections safer. Sort of like a natural roundabout that can softly absorb any wayward vehicles.

February 10 Graupel in the Light

This is a look at graupel,which fell for just a few minutes this afternoon before dark. The same stuff fell at the beginning of the big storm last Saturday. Tonight, it only lasted minutes, but was enough to fill boot and dog prints with these little snowballs. Graupel happens when snowflakes get covered in ice crystals as they fall through the sky. They are less dense than your standard hail.

February 9 House Sparrows Getting Ready

Madison has a very healthy population of house sparrows (Passer domesticus), which you can identify by the large dark spot below their neck. They have been chirping a bunch and flying in flocks all winter, but this morning was the first time I noticed one of them doing breeding activities. This individual was clearing claiming and possibly readying this crack in the eaves on a front porch. These bulkier sparrows came over from Europe to Brooklyn in 1851 and have successfully spread across North America. Most North American sparrows are smaller and leaner than this non-native cousin. I will look for House Sparrow chicks at this residence in 6-8 weeks.

February 8 Winter Birding

Today I joined in on the Arboretum's afternoon Winter Birding Hike. Facing a strong northwest wind, the majority of birds were hunkered down, but larger birds seemed to not mind. We saw a perched red-tailed hawk, a flock of playful crows, and plenty of Arboretum turkeys walking about. Towards the very end of the hike we came across a pile of fur and this cottontail rabbit head. Our guide mentioned that great-horned owls are known to leave the head of larger prey behind, which allows them to carry the rest in their talons. There was also talk that red-tailed hawks will actually gut larger prey and cut off appendages to make them easier to move to a safe eating spot. Since great-horned owls and red-tailed hawks both weigh about 3 pounds on average, they can only carry so much in their talons while flying. But for this cottontail, I notice that the fur has grey and white tinges, probably for winter camouflage. Or is their fur this color year round? It will be interesting to see the fur on a rabbit's head in August and compare. 

February 7 Sirius and the Dog

Canis Major, known by the Greeks as one of Orion's hunting dogs, includes Sirius, the brightest star in the entire night sky. It appears brighter than all other stars because it's so close to earth, only 8.6 light years away. Sirius is the dog's neck, and the stars of its head are difficult to see against average town light pollution. But tonight was an excellent night for star viewing - clear skies, calm air, and the moon didn't rise until after 7:30 PM. It won't be long before our winter constellations are only visible in the middle of the night, so pick a clear, warmer night to go to the edge of town and see them rise in the eastern sky.

February 6 Birch Catkins

It is common for White Birches (Betula papyrifera) to drop their mature flowers over the course of the winter, as opposed to all at once in the fall. They have adapted to drop these catkins onto the deeper snows of the northwoods, which gives them a chance of being windswept to more open areas where they can get the sunlight they need. If you hike through a forest in the next few weeks, look for little piles of these underneath the white trees with the peeling bark.

February 5 Juncos are Way Cool

This incredibly common bird deserves some kudos for living in 49 United States, coast to coast in Canada, and the northern half of Mexico. According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, there are 630 million Dark-Eyed Juncos in North America. They are with us here in Madison through the winter, and then head to the northern forests or west to the mountains for breeding season. In winter, they will use almost any habitat type to forage on the ground for seeds, the way this female did today on a sidewalk at the Arboretum. She is slightly lighter than the male, which is a dark slate. You can identify both by the white flash of their tail as they fly off, looking for more seeds.

February 4 Icicle Season

Snow on roofs and a stronger sun result in daytime melting on clear days. Icicles then form overnight as the dripping water slowly freezes. Leaving work at the Capitol Square today, I saw a spectacular display of icicles in a back alley. They were all the way up the first fire escape staircase and dripping impressively, creating the beginnings of stalagmites on the parking lot below. Freeze thaw, freeze thaw, but eventually we will have thaw, thaw, thaw, thaw.

February 3 Domestic or Wild Geese?

It's a well-known but perhaps little discussed fact among birders that some birds come in as many color morphs as humans. From Broadway Street I saw 5 different color combinations of geese in the Yaraha River during my ride home. I was at first thrilled to have seen Greater White-Fronted and Snow Geese! Rarities in Wisconsin! (It is also common for amateur birders, like myself, to jump to conclusions on species ID) Further reading, however, leads me to think that these are varieties of domestic geese that are now living life on this open stretch of the Yahara River. Still exciting to see such waterfowl variety in winter.

February 2 Art of the Wind

Nature has its own means of expression: light, line, wind, water, color. The intensity of a winter storm can give way hours later to scenes like this, wind carved lines in the snow on Lake Monona. Already the sun is giving us different light quality than it was a few weeks ago. I've noticed new shades of blue in the sky and sharper shapes and shadows. The science of phenology is important but seeing the beauty of it is the first step to reconnecting with what we call nature.

February 1 Snow Moon

All day I was measuring snow depth excitedly, getting up to 10 inches on the windswept side of our yard. What a thrilling start to the last month of the season! I happened to go out at 10:30 for one more look at the snow when the moon reminded me that it's full and extra bright when there is solid snowcover for reflection. I also noticed this "Moon Dog," a ring around a bright moon that appears when there are an abundance of ice crystals in the atmosphere. The same thing will happen to the sun just after a snow or on extremely cold mornings. Tonight is a good one to look for another moon dog - maybe while cross country skiing with friends??

January 31 Winter Begins

I went along on a full moon hike at the Arboretum tonight and the snow started falling. For the first hour of the hike, we heard the lovely sounds of graupel - these fluffy ice pellets that start as snowflakes but add on ice droplets as they fall - as it dropped onto leaves on the mostly bare ground. It felt like the start of a new era of winter as we walked away from the warm and unfrozen days of January into earlier mornings, longer days, and hopefully a white landscape to explore. This is a view from West Spring in Wingra Woods looking out towards some old pines.

January 30 Bittersweet in the Lost City

On this gorgeous afternoon in the Arboretum, we decided to hike through the Lost City Forest in search of some of the original foundations of buildings from the 1920s. As we got closer to a coniferous section in the southern corner, a series of crashing noises called our attention. Turkeys were flying to and from skinny jack pine branches, scraping their wings on tree trunks, and looking hilariously awkward while eating these oriental bittersweet (Celastrus orbiculatus) berries. The red berries are released in fall from the wings of the pod and like buckthorn and mountain ash are gobbled up in late winter by songbirds, squirrels, and ambitious turkeys. While the red berries are a nice accent to the browns and dark greens of winter, the plant itself can be destructive: in this section the bittersweet vines have grown up and around dozens of trees, strangling them to the point of falling over. It's among the ranks of invasive plants the land care staff fight back each year.