While those of us who live along the Colorado Front Range enjoy abundant sunshine and a mild, semiarid climate, there is plenty of aquatic habitat along the urban corridor. One of the best places to observe water-loving birds and mammals is South Platte Park, which stretches across the river's floodplain from the northern edge of Chatfield Reservoir State Park to the outskirts of downtown Littleton. A mosaic of ponds, lakes, wetlands, meadows and riparian woodlands, the Park is accessed by a paved bikeway, its parallel walking path and a number of adjoining trail loops. An Interpretive Center, west of Santa Fe Drive and north of Mineral, introduces visitors to the varied fauna and flora of the Park.
On this mild, clear morning, the refuge was teeming with birds, including many that non-Coloradans might not associate with our State. A dozen American white pelicans moved among the lakes or fished in the shallows, joined by a large number of double-crested cormorants, scattered great blue herons, a pair of snowy egrets, a flotilla of common mergansers, noisy flocks of Canada geese and a varied assortment of ducks (primarily mallards, gadwall and wood ducks). Tree and barn swallows swooped above the ponds, a Swainson's hawk circled overhead, belted kingfishers chattered along the river and a wide assortment of songbirds moved among the trees and cattails; these included yellow warblers, common yellowthroats, American and lesser goldfinches, western wood pewees, northern orioles, house wrens, northern flickers, downy woodpeckers and those ever-vocal red-winged blackbirds. A lone black-crowned night heron, spooked from his shadowy haunt, was my final sighting of the morning.
Though represented only by fox squirrels, cottontails and black-tailed prairie dogs this morning, a variety of mammals also inhabit the Park and are best seen at dawn or dusk. Among these residents are mule and white-tailed deer, red fox, coyotes, beaver, muskrats, raccoons, striped skunks, meadow voles and deer mice; mountain lions and black bear are potential visitors but are rarely encountered.
Tampilkan postingan dengan label refuges. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label refuges. Tampilkan semua postingan
Selasa, 10 Juli 2012
Jumat, 06 Juli 2012
Colorado's Black Canyon
Near the end of the Mesozoic Era, as the Cretaceous Sea retreated to the southeast, Colorado was a relatively flat landscape of wetlands, sandhills and primitive forest. Then, about 70 million years ago (MYA), pressure within the North American craton crumpled up the Rocky Mountains, pushing ancient Precambrian rock up through the overlying Paleozoic and Mesozoic sediments.
As soon as they formed, the forces of erosion began to act on these new mountains, filling the intervening valleys with debris. About 35 MYA, volcanism developed in central and southwestern Colorado, lifting the West Elk and San Juan Mountains; the copious ash, pumice and lava from these eruptions also coated the valleys and basins of that region. By 10 MYA, the Gunnison River had formed; rising on the west side of the Continental Divide, in the Sawatch Range, and receiving large tributaries from the West Elk Mountains, to its north, and the San Juans, to its south, this river flowed west to join the Colorado. Entrenched within the erosional and volcanic debris that had settled across the broad, intervening basin, the Gunnison was forced to cut into a ridge of Precambrian gneiss and schist, east of present day Montrose, that was buried within the sediments. Since that time, the river has sculpted the Black Canyon of the Gunnison from that ancient rock, a process that was augmented during the cooler, wetter climate of the Pleistocene.
Almost 50 miles in length, the Black Canyon is up to 2720 feet deep and 1100 feet across at its rim; at river level, it is much narrower, only 40 feet wide in one area. The Painted Wall, on the north flank of Black Canyon, is named for the light-colored lava rock that laces its surface and is the tallest cliff in Colorado, dropping 2250 feet. Within the canyon, the Gunnison River drops 43 feet per mile, a grade that is almost six times steeper than the Colorado River's course within the Grand Canyon. Named for its shaded walls, hidden from the sun by its deep and narrow topography, the Black Canyon of the Gunnison is protected within a National Park that stretches along its middle (and most spectacular) 14 miles. Farther west, the Gunnison is thought to have carved Unaweep Canyon through the Uncompahgre Plateau, later diverted northward by a landslide to join the Colorado west of Grand Junction (see my blog on 12-27-10).
As soon as they formed, the forces of erosion began to act on these new mountains, filling the intervening valleys with debris. About 35 MYA, volcanism developed in central and southwestern Colorado, lifting the West Elk and San Juan Mountains; the copious ash, pumice and lava from these eruptions also coated the valleys and basins of that region. By 10 MYA, the Gunnison River had formed; rising on the west side of the Continental Divide, in the Sawatch Range, and receiving large tributaries from the West Elk Mountains, to its north, and the San Juans, to its south, this river flowed west to join the Colorado. Entrenched within the erosional and volcanic debris that had settled across the broad, intervening basin, the Gunnison was forced to cut into a ridge of Precambrian gneiss and schist, east of present day Montrose, that was buried within the sediments. Since that time, the river has sculpted the Black Canyon of the Gunnison from that ancient rock, a process that was augmented during the cooler, wetter climate of the Pleistocene.
Almost 50 miles in length, the Black Canyon is up to 2720 feet deep and 1100 feet across at its rim; at river level, it is much narrower, only 40 feet wide in one area. The Painted Wall, on the north flank of Black Canyon, is named for the light-colored lava rock that laces its surface and is the tallest cliff in Colorado, dropping 2250 feet. Within the canyon, the Gunnison River drops 43 feet per mile, a grade that is almost six times steeper than the Colorado River's course within the Grand Canyon. Named for its shaded walls, hidden from the sun by its deep and narrow topography, the Black Canyon of the Gunnison is protected within a National Park that stretches along its middle (and most spectacular) 14 miles. Farther west, the Gunnison is thought to have carved Unaweep Canyon through the Uncompahgre Plateau, later diverted northward by a landslide to join the Colorado west of Grand Junction (see my blog on 12-27-10).
Senin, 25 Juni 2012
The Lena River Delta
On satellite imagery, the Lena River Delta on the northern coast of Siberia gives the appearance of a fan coral, its braided channels and numerous lakes forming an intricate pattern across the Arctic tundra. It is this landscape of countless pools and waterways that attracts huge congregations of loons, grebes, shorebirds and waterfowl to this 11,600 square mile wetland to nest and raise their young during the brief Arctic summer.
The Lena River, the second largest stream in Siberia, rises a few miles west of Lake Baikal, flowing northward and gradually eastward for 2700 miles to its delta on the Laptev Sea. There it delivers tons of sediment each year, gradually enlarging and enriching the delta which is also an important spawining area for Arctic fish. Nesting birds of note include red-necked grebes, four species of loon, whooper and tundra swans, bean geese, black brant, king and Steller's eiders, long-tailed ducks, Ross's and Sabine's gulls and numerous shorebird species. Of course, willow grouse, rock ptarmigan, snowy owls, peregrine falcons and a wide variety of Arctic songbirds also inhabit the delta. Resident mammals include gray wolves, Arctic fox, wolverines, least weasels, stoats, lemmings, tundra voles and reindeer; beluga whales, walruses and a variety of seals often visit the area.
Fortunately, most of this vast tundra wetland is protected within the Lena River Delta Nature Reserve, the largest nature preserve in Russia. Visited only by the most adventurous naturalists, this spectacular but remote site is relatively free of human disturbance; nevertheless, the Lena, like all rivers on our planet, is tainted by pollutants from agriculture, mining, industry and sewage and their long term effects on the delta ecosystem is yet to be determined.
The Lena River, the second largest stream in Siberia, rises a few miles west of Lake Baikal, flowing northward and gradually eastward for 2700 miles to its delta on the Laptev Sea. There it delivers tons of sediment each year, gradually enlarging and enriching the delta which is also an important spawining area for Arctic fish. Nesting birds of note include red-necked grebes, four species of loon, whooper and tundra swans, bean geese, black brant, king and Steller's eiders, long-tailed ducks, Ross's and Sabine's gulls and numerous shorebird species. Of course, willow grouse, rock ptarmigan, snowy owls, peregrine falcons and a wide variety of Arctic songbirds also inhabit the delta. Resident mammals include gray wolves, Arctic fox, wolverines, least weasels, stoats, lemmings, tundra voles and reindeer; beluga whales, walruses and a variety of seals often visit the area.
Fortunately, most of this vast tundra wetland is protected within the Lena River Delta Nature Reserve, the largest nature preserve in Russia. Visited only by the most adventurous naturalists, this spectacular but remote site is relatively free of human disturbance; nevertheless, the Lena, like all rivers on our planet, is tainted by pollutants from agriculture, mining, industry and sewage and their long term effects on the delta ecosystem is yet to be determined.
Senin, 18 Juni 2012
Missisquoi NWR
As heat and humidity grip much of the country over the next few months, those of us in the Midwest and Southeast will look for escapes to cooler, northern climes. For naturalists, one option is a visit to Missisquoi National Wildlife Refuge, in northwest Vermont.
The Missisquoi River rises in the uplands of northeast Vermont, loops westward through southern Canada and then returns to Vermont to enter Lake Champlain along its northeastern shore. There it has created a delta of marshlands, channels, mudflats and islets, providing ideal nesting and feeding grounds for migrant and resident waterfowl, shorebirds, waders, rails and wetland songbirds. Established in 1943, the Missisquoi NWR now protects the delta, the adjacent Big Marsh Slough and parcels of northern forest. At least 300 species of birds visit the refuge throughout the year and nesting species include ospreys, great blue herons, least bitterns, black terns, common goldeneyes, soras and Virginia rails, among many others.
Missisquoi NWR is located NNW of Swanton, Vermont, which is just west of I-89 (Exit 21). Like most of our National Wildlife Refuges, it is accessible from dawn to dusk every day of the year; the refuge Visitor Center is open M-F and most Saturdays from mid May through October. Adventurous visitors might want to rent a canoe in Swanton and explore the refuge marshlands from the cool waters of Lake Champlain.
The Missisquoi River rises in the uplands of northeast Vermont, loops westward through southern Canada and then returns to Vermont to enter Lake Champlain along its northeastern shore. There it has created a delta of marshlands, channels, mudflats and islets, providing ideal nesting and feeding grounds for migrant and resident waterfowl, shorebirds, waders, rails and wetland songbirds. Established in 1943, the Missisquoi NWR now protects the delta, the adjacent Big Marsh Slough and parcels of northern forest. At least 300 species of birds visit the refuge throughout the year and nesting species include ospreys, great blue herons, least bitterns, black terns, common goldeneyes, soras and Virginia rails, among many others.
Missisquoi NWR is located NNW of Swanton, Vermont, which is just west of I-89 (Exit 21). Like most of our National Wildlife Refuges, it is accessible from dawn to dusk every day of the year; the refuge Visitor Center is open M-F and most Saturdays from mid May through October. Adventurous visitors might want to rent a canoe in Swanton and explore the refuge marshlands from the cool waters of Lake Champlain.
Minggu, 20 Mei 2012
Vulture Heaven at Eagle Bluffs
As a consequence of the lowest water levels that I have ever encountered at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, dead carp lined the central channel, providing a feast for numerous turkey vultures. Usually seen soaring above the countryside, these large scavengers had gathered on the mudflats and levees to partake in the bounty of rotting fish.
Of course, the low water was also beneficial to great blue herons, great egrets and green-backed herons, concentrating their prey in the shallow pools. Other highlights included a large number of wood ducks, the attentive females ushering their broods across the calm waters, and an unusual abundance of migrant shorebirds for late May. Cormorants and diving ducks were noticeably absent but small groups of coot, blue-winged teal and mallards plied the shallows or huddled on the shorelines. Throughout the evening, a steady background chorus was provided by bullfrogs, green frogs, cricket frogs, killdeer and indigo buntings as white-tailed deer emerged from the woods to browse the marshlands and crop fields.
Since the Missouri River is still fairly high, I suspect that the low water at Eagle Bluffs reflects an artificial drawdown, often utilized to mimic natural fluctuations that foster the welfare of native floodplain vegetation while discouraging the invasion of alien species. Whatever the cause, the drought-like conditions surely favor the hunters and scavengers; for the time being, it's vulture heaven at Eagle Bluffs.
Of course, the low water was also beneficial to great blue herons, great egrets and green-backed herons, concentrating their prey in the shallow pools. Other highlights included a large number of wood ducks, the attentive females ushering their broods across the calm waters, and an unusual abundance of migrant shorebirds for late May. Cormorants and diving ducks were noticeably absent but small groups of coot, blue-winged teal and mallards plied the shallows or huddled on the shorelines. Throughout the evening, a steady background chorus was provided by bullfrogs, green frogs, cricket frogs, killdeer and indigo buntings as white-tailed deer emerged from the woods to browse the marshlands and crop fields.
Since the Missouri River is still fairly high, I suspect that the low water at Eagle Bluffs reflects an artificial drawdown, often utilized to mimic natural fluctuations that foster the welfare of native floodplain vegetation while discouraging the invasion of alien species. Whatever the cause, the drought-like conditions surely favor the hunters and scavengers; for the time being, it's vulture heaven at Eagle Bluffs.
Jumat, 18 Mei 2012
Superior's Northwest Coast
Just north of downtown Duluth, Interstate 35 ends and becomes Minnesota Route 61 that hugs the northwest coast of Lake Superior, all the way to the Canadian border. Providing spectacular and ever-changing views of the lake, this road also yields access to a chain of State Parks, most of which surround rivers that rise in the hill country to the west and rumble down to Lake Superior.
A few of these Parks deserve special mention. Gooseberry River State Park, a few miles north of Two Harbors, is accessed by an excellent network of trails that lead past a series of beautiful waterfalls, lead out to cliff-top views of the lake and river valley or take the visitor down to the rocky shore. Temperance River State Park, just north of Taconic Harbor, provides spectacular evidence of the erosive force of moving water; this turbulent stream has cut a deep, rugged gorge through the Precambrian volcanic bedrock, producing waterfalls, whirlpools and polished rock formations. Just shy of the Canadian border, Grand Portage State Park, stretching along the Pigeon River, provides access to Pigeon River Falls, the highest waterfall in Minnesota (120 feet). Finally, a scenic rest-stop, a few miles north of the town of Grand Portage, offers an awe-inspiring view of Lake Superior, its coastal hills, the offshore Susie Islands and the distant silhouette of Isle Royale, stretching across the northeastern horizon.
While towns, marinas, resorts and industrial ports are also spaced along Superior's Northwest Coast, they do not begin to detract from its fabulous natural landscape and the abundance of State Parks, State Forests and dedicated Wilderness could keep any naturalist entertained for months, if not years. Our only regret is that we had too little time to explore that scenic wonderland.
A few of these Parks deserve special mention. Gooseberry River State Park, a few miles north of Two Harbors, is accessed by an excellent network of trails that lead past a series of beautiful waterfalls, lead out to cliff-top views of the lake and river valley or take the visitor down to the rocky shore. Temperance River State Park, just north of Taconic Harbor, provides spectacular evidence of the erosive force of moving water; this turbulent stream has cut a deep, rugged gorge through the Precambrian volcanic bedrock, producing waterfalls, whirlpools and polished rock formations. Just shy of the Canadian border, Grand Portage State Park, stretching along the Pigeon River, provides access to Pigeon River Falls, the highest waterfall in Minnesota (120 feet). Finally, a scenic rest-stop, a few miles north of the town of Grand Portage, offers an awe-inspiring view of Lake Superior, its coastal hills, the offshore Susie Islands and the distant silhouette of Isle Royale, stretching across the northeastern horizon.
While towns, marinas, resorts and industrial ports are also spaced along Superior's Northwest Coast, they do not begin to detract from its fabulous natural landscape and the abundance of State Parks, State Forests and dedicated Wilderness could keep any naturalist entertained for months, if not years. Our only regret is that we had too little time to explore that scenic wonderland.
Selasa, 15 Mei 2012
Western Lake Superior
Facing an off-week and yearning to get back to the North Country after our memorable journey across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, last September, my wife and I decided to head for western Lake Superior. We left Columbia yesterday afternoon, driving north across the Glaciated Plain of northern Missouri and eastern Iowa, stopping for the night in Iowa City. This morning, we resumed our journey, dropping into the Mississippi Valley at Marquette, Iowa, and then paralleling the broad river and its wooded islands along the Wisconsin (eastern) shore. Scenic bluffs rise along both sides of the Mississippi Valley in this "Driftless Area" of the Upper Midwest, which was spared the erosive force of Pleistocene Glaciers.
Protected within the Upper Mississippi National Wildlife Refuge, access to the Mississippi and its varied riparian habitats is rather limited (except for boaters). However, Goose Island County Park, just south of La Crosse, Wisconsin, provided an excellent opportunity to study the floodplain wetlands, backwater bays and eastern channel of the river; birding was excellent at the Park. North of La Crosse, we cut away from the Mississippi for a more direct route to Duluth, Minnesota, where we are spending the night on that city's restored waterfront.
In the coming days, we plan to explore the northwest coast of Lake Superior and the Apostle Islands region of northern Wisconsin. So far, wildlife encounters have been limited to bald eagles, sandhill cranes, common loons, gulls, aquatic turtles and a host of waterfowl and songbird species. But we are now in wolf and moose country and I look forward to the possibility of seeing (or hearing) those North Country residents amidst the spectacular landscape that adjoins America's grandest Lake.
Protected within the Upper Mississippi National Wildlife Refuge, access to the Mississippi and its varied riparian habitats is rather limited (except for boaters). However, Goose Island County Park, just south of La Crosse, Wisconsin, provided an excellent opportunity to study the floodplain wetlands, backwater bays and eastern channel of the river; birding was excellent at the Park. North of La Crosse, we cut away from the Mississippi for a more direct route to Duluth, Minnesota, where we are spending the night on that city's restored waterfront.
In the coming days, we plan to explore the northwest coast of Lake Superior and the Apostle Islands region of northern Wisconsin. So far, wildlife encounters have been limited to bald eagles, sandhill cranes, common loons, gulls, aquatic turtles and a host of waterfowl and songbird species. But we are now in wolf and moose country and I look forward to the possibility of seeing (or hearing) those North Country residents amidst the spectacular landscape that adjoins America's grandest Lake.
Jumat, 13 April 2012
A Stormy Morning at Eagle Bluffs
Veteran birders know that high winds and heavy rain are the least favorable weather conditions for productive birding since most birds will take cover until conditions improve. Then again, if you plan to observe aquatic species from the comfort of your car, rainy weather can have its advantages. Waterfowl and waders could care less about the presence of rain and some birds, such as rails, are best seen on dark, cloudy, rainy days.
With such positive thoughts in mind, I headed down to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning, a superb wetland refuge on the floodplain of the Missouri River. To my surprise, I was greeted on the entry road by a scissor-tailed flycatcher, the first I had ever encountered in central Missouri. As expected in mid April, the waterfowl were abundant, dominated by northern shovelers, blue-winged teal and American coot; some wintering species were also present, including lesser scaup, ring-necked ducks and a few canvasbacks. Other aquatic birds included a large number of double-crested cormorants, a fair number of pied-billed grebes and a lone white pelican. Shorebirds were scattered about the mudflats and flooded fields, dominated by lesser yellowlegs, and, as if to support my rationale for visiting, a pair of soras foraged along the edge of the cattails, dipping in and out of cover.
Otherwise, muskrats went about the morning chores, great blue herons and great egrets stalked the shallows and northern harriers hunted low across the fields. Summer birds may have returned to the bottomland woods but, due of the intermittent lightening, I was reluctant to leave my pickup and they were likely waiting out the storm. Not a bad morning on the floodplain, despite the weather!
With such positive thoughts in mind, I headed down to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning, a superb wetland refuge on the floodplain of the Missouri River. To my surprise, I was greeted on the entry road by a scissor-tailed flycatcher, the first I had ever encountered in central Missouri. As expected in mid April, the waterfowl were abundant, dominated by northern shovelers, blue-winged teal and American coot; some wintering species were also present, including lesser scaup, ring-necked ducks and a few canvasbacks. Other aquatic birds included a large number of double-crested cormorants, a fair number of pied-billed grebes and a lone white pelican. Shorebirds were scattered about the mudflats and flooded fields, dominated by lesser yellowlegs, and, as if to support my rationale for visiting, a pair of soras foraged along the edge of the cattails, dipping in and out of cover.
Otherwise, muskrats went about the morning chores, great blue herons and great egrets stalked the shallows and northern harriers hunted low across the fields. Summer birds may have returned to the bottomland woods but, due of the intermittent lightening, I was reluctant to leave my pickup and they were likely waiting out the storm. Not a bad morning on the floodplain, despite the weather!
Kamis, 12 April 2012
Bald Knob NWR
Many nature buffs are familiar with National Wildlife Refuges such as Horicon, Squaw Creek and Aransas. But there are many others that evade the attention of the general public, some of which are close to home and readily accessible. One such refuge is Bald Knob NWR, just east of Searcy, Arkansas (and south of Bald Knob), at the western edge of the Coastal Plain. Established less than 20 years ago to protect wetlands along the Little Red River, this refuge blends with the the Henry Gray/Hurricane Lake WMA, to its east; spring flooding along the White and Little Red Rivers often precludes entry to southern and eastern sections of the combined preserves.
Characterized by agricultural fields, man-made ponds, sloughs and bottomland timber, the Bald Knob NWR is accessed by a network of graveled roads and earthen trails, most of which run atop levees. On my visit this morning I encountered mixed flocks of ducks and coot, migrant shorebirds, numerous killdeer and a flock of at least 100 American white pelicans; as is typical, the pelicans waited for mid-morning thermals before taking to the air and soaring above the refuge. The highlight of my visit was provided by a lone peregrine falcon that repeatedly strafed and spooked the waterfowl.
Access to Bald Knob NWR is best achieved from the city of Bald Knob, a few miles northeast of Searcy on US Highway 67. From the downtown area, turn south on Hickory St., which becomes Coal Chute Road, the northern entry road for the refuge; during periods of spring flooding, this may be the only route of access.
Characterized by agricultural fields, man-made ponds, sloughs and bottomland timber, the Bald Knob NWR is accessed by a network of graveled roads and earthen trails, most of which run atop levees. On my visit this morning I encountered mixed flocks of ducks and coot, migrant shorebirds, numerous killdeer and a flock of at least 100 American white pelicans; as is typical, the pelicans waited for mid-morning thermals before taking to the air and soaring above the refuge. The highlight of my visit was provided by a lone peregrine falcon that repeatedly strafed and spooked the waterfowl.
Access to Bald Knob NWR is best achieved from the city of Bald Knob, a few miles northeast of Searcy on US Highway 67. From the downtown area, turn south on Hickory St., which becomes Coal Chute Road, the northern entry road for the refuge; during periods of spring flooding, this may be the only route of access.
Rabu, 11 April 2012
White River NWR
The bad news? White River NWR is currently flooded and almost totally inaccessible to humans without boats. The good news? White River NWR is currently flooded and is almost totally inaccessible to humans. How refreshing to discover that we have at least one portion of a major river that has not been channelized, dammed or corralled by levees for the benefit of human recreation. And, of course, letting rivers flood is essential to protecting what little remains of bottomland forests along the Mississippi Valley and elsewhere on our planet.
Established in 1935 to protect wintering habitat for waterfowl as well as this remaining tract of swamp forest, White River NWR hosts up to 350,000 ducks and geese each winter and is home to a wide range of wildlife, including American alligators, black bears, bald eagles and, possibly, ivory-billed woodpeckers. Though my observations were limited to fringe areas today, graveled roads and five trails provide access to the heart of the refuge when conditions permit. For those who have not visited in the past, I suggest a stop at the refuge Visitor Center, in St. Charles, Arkansas, to obtain maps and to find out what areas might be open to the public; some sections are closed from November through February to protect wintering waterfowl from human disturbance.
Nearly 90 miles long and up to 10 miles wide, White River NWR harbors a vibrant ecosystem; in addition to the vast bottomland, hardwood forest are numerous lakes, ponds, sloughs, bayous and marshlands. Wading birds, especially common and varied during the warmer months, are present throughout the year, as are barred owls, pileated woodpeckers, belted kingfishers and red-headed woodpeckers. In spring, prothonotary warblers, scarlet tanagers, yellow-breasted chats, yellow-billed cuckoos and a host of other summer songbirds add color to the deep, dark woods.
Established in 1935 to protect wintering habitat for waterfowl as well as this remaining tract of swamp forest, White River NWR hosts up to 350,000 ducks and geese each winter and is home to a wide range of wildlife, including American alligators, black bears, bald eagles and, possibly, ivory-billed woodpeckers. Though my observations were limited to fringe areas today, graveled roads and five trails provide access to the heart of the refuge when conditions permit. For those who have not visited in the past, I suggest a stop at the refuge Visitor Center, in St. Charles, Arkansas, to obtain maps and to find out what areas might be open to the public; some sections are closed from November through February to protect wintering waterfowl from human disturbance.
Nearly 90 miles long and up to 10 miles wide, White River NWR harbors a vibrant ecosystem; in addition to the vast bottomland, hardwood forest are numerous lakes, ponds, sloughs, bayous and marshlands. Wading birds, especially common and varied during the warmer months, are present throughout the year, as are barred owls, pileated woodpeckers, belted kingfishers and red-headed woodpeckers. In spring, prothonotary warblers, scarlet tanagers, yellow-breasted chats, yellow-billed cuckoos and a host of other summer songbirds add color to the deep, dark woods.
Sabtu, 07 April 2012
Bombay Hook NWR
One of the most renowned birding locations along the Eastern Seabord, Bombay Hook NWR stretches along the northwest shore of Delaware Bay, about 10 miles northeast of Dover. Established in 1937 to protect wetlands for migrant and wintering waterfowl, this 16,200 acre refuge offers spectacular wildlife viewing throughout the year.
From mid April through early June, large, mixed flocks of shorebirds descend on Bombay Hook as they make their way toward Arctic breeding grounds. Attracted by the vast tidal marshes and mudflats of the refuge, they are also drawn by the nutritious eggs of horseshoe crabs which fill the shallows in May. Joining the shorebirds are a wide variety of waders, gulls, terns, raptors and migrant songbirds. Among the many species that nest at Bombay Hook are bald eagles, ospreys, clapper and Virginia rails, least and American bitterns, black-necked stilts, barn owls, sedge and marsh wrens, blue grosbeaks, fish crows, seaside sparrows and salt marsh sharp-tailed sparrows. By autumn, huge flocks of geese and ducks descend on the refuge.
Access to the tidal marshes, freshwater pools, cordgrass meadows and wooded swamps is provided by a 12-mile auto tour road, which begins near the Visitor Center; five trails, boardwalks and three observations towers are also provided for visitors. Bombay Hook NWR is open from dawn until dusk every day of the year; an entrance fee is charged.
From mid April through early June, large, mixed flocks of shorebirds descend on Bombay Hook as they make their way toward Arctic breeding grounds. Attracted by the vast tidal marshes and mudflats of the refuge, they are also drawn by the nutritious eggs of horseshoe crabs which fill the shallows in May. Joining the shorebirds are a wide variety of waders, gulls, terns, raptors and migrant songbirds. Among the many species that nest at Bombay Hook are bald eagles, ospreys, clapper and Virginia rails, least and American bitterns, black-necked stilts, barn owls, sedge and marsh wrens, blue grosbeaks, fish crows, seaside sparrows and salt marsh sharp-tailed sparrows. By autumn, huge flocks of geese and ducks descend on the refuge.
Access to the tidal marshes, freshwater pools, cordgrass meadows and wooded swamps is provided by a 12-mile auto tour road, which begins near the Visitor Center; five trails, boardwalks and three observations towers are also provided for visitors. Bombay Hook NWR is open from dawn until dusk every day of the year; an entrance fee is charged.
Minggu, 25 Maret 2012
The Garth Wetlands
Stretching across the Bear Creek floodplain in north Columbia, Missouri, the Garth Nature Preserve harbors one of the best urban wetlands that I have yet to encounter. Accessed by a fine network of trails, it is visited primarily by joggers, dog-walkers and couples focused more on their conversation than on the natural beauty that surrounds them. For those of us who care to look, there is always much to see.
This morning I found the flora and fauna to be well ahead of schedule, as is occurring across much of North America in the midst of our ongoing heat wave. The rosy glow of redbuds brightened the greening woodlands while a background chorus was provided by northern flickers, chorus frogs, trilling toads and red-winged blackbirds. Though the latter songsters are commonly heard in late March, they were joined by the distinctive chortle of leopard frogs, the scattered call of cricket frogs and, if I was not mistaken, the deep croaks of a few groggy bullfrogs. Aquatic turtles were abundant, peering from the shallows or basking on mats of vegetation and a lone water snake wound through the cattails. Eastern bluebirds, tree swallows and eastern phoebes feasted on a new generation of insects and a pair of red-tailed hawks cavorted overhead, already well into their nesting season.
While all ecosystems offer unique sightings during each season of the year, wetlands are especially interesting in the spring as amphibians and reptiles emerge from their winter slumber and colorful birds return from the south to nest and raise their young. Of course, this riot of life is fueled by the insect hordes, most of which overwintered as eggs, pupae or larvae in these same marshlands.
This morning I found the flora and fauna to be well ahead of schedule, as is occurring across much of North America in the midst of our ongoing heat wave. The rosy glow of redbuds brightened the greening woodlands while a background chorus was provided by northern flickers, chorus frogs, trilling toads and red-winged blackbirds. Though the latter songsters are commonly heard in late March, they were joined by the distinctive chortle of leopard frogs, the scattered call of cricket frogs and, if I was not mistaken, the deep croaks of a few groggy bullfrogs. Aquatic turtles were abundant, peering from the shallows or basking on mats of vegetation and a lone water snake wound through the cattails. Eastern bluebirds, tree swallows and eastern phoebes feasted on a new generation of insects and a pair of red-tailed hawks cavorted overhead, already well into their nesting season.
While all ecosystems offer unique sightings during each season of the year, wetlands are especially interesting in the spring as amphibians and reptiles emerge from their winter slumber and colorful birds return from the south to nest and raise their young. Of course, this riot of life is fueled by the insect hordes, most of which overwintered as eggs, pupae or larvae in these same marshlands.
Rabu, 21 Maret 2012
Morning at the Canyon
Facing another mild, sunny morning along the Colorado Front range, I headed to Deer Creek Canyon Park in the foothills of southwest Metro Denver. There I was greeted by cool, fresh air, the usual mix of wild residents and, for most of the visit, the joy of solitude.
As I hiked through a spectacular landscape of yucca-studded grasslands, Gambel's oak, mountain mahogany, junipers and scenic rock formations, I encountered scrub jays, Townsend's solitaires, rufous-sided towhees, ravens, canyon wrens and, of course, the ubiquitous chickadees, robins and juncos; mule deer were abundant and Colorado chipmunks scurried across the trail. At the top of the first ridge, which commands a magnificent view of the canyon and of rock formations to the east, I was rewarded by the sight of a golden eagle, soaring above the foothills that flank Deer Creek Canyon.
In another month, these permanent residents will be joined by black-headed grosbeaks, green-tailed towhees, Lazuli buntings, lesser goldfinches, blue-gray gnatcatchers, yellow-breasted chats, white-throated swifts, Virginia's warblers and other summer residents. Blue grouse will also return to this refuge during the warmer months, having spent the winter on higher mountain slopes, feasting on conifer needles and berries. Of course, I will also come back to welcome these seasonal residents to their summer home in Colorado.
As I hiked through a spectacular landscape of yucca-studded grasslands, Gambel's oak, mountain mahogany, junipers and scenic rock formations, I encountered scrub jays, Townsend's solitaires, rufous-sided towhees, ravens, canyon wrens and, of course, the ubiquitous chickadees, robins and juncos; mule deer were abundant and Colorado chipmunks scurried across the trail. At the top of the first ridge, which commands a magnificent view of the canyon and of rock formations to the east, I was rewarded by the sight of a golden eagle, soaring above the foothills that flank Deer Creek Canyon.
In another month, these permanent residents will be joined by black-headed grosbeaks, green-tailed towhees, Lazuli buntings, lesser goldfinches, blue-gray gnatcatchers, yellow-breasted chats, white-throated swifts, Virginia's warblers and other summer residents. Blue grouse will also return to this refuge during the warmer months, having spent the winter on higher mountain slopes, feasting on conifer needles and berries. Of course, I will also come back to welcome these seasonal residents to their summer home in Colorado.
Kamis, 08 Maret 2012
Mono Lake
Mono Lake is a 70 square-mile saline lake at the eastern foot of the Sierra Nevada Range, approximately 13 miles east of Yosemite National Park. Enclosed within a natural basin by the Sierra Batholith to its west and Pliocene-Pleistocene volcanic ranges to its north, east and south, the lake is fed by three primary streams (Lee Vining, Rush and Mill Creeks) and by freshwater springs along its floor. Having formed during the Pleistocene, about 1 million years ago, it is one of the oldest lakes in North America and is the largest lake completely within California.
As a basin lake, its size and depth are a balance between inflow from streams and springs and evaporative loss in the dry climate of the Basin and Range Province. Prior to 1941, its surface elevation hovered above 6400 feet but this was dramatically lowered by diversion of inflow to the Los Angeles Water System; legal challenges by conservation groups eventually restored most of the inflow by 1994.
Despite its high salinity (2.5 times that of ocean water) and alkalinity (which precludes fish survival), Mono Lake supports a spectacular ecosystem. Photosynthetic algae, feeding on minerals from the surrounding mountains, bloom in spring when snowmelt peaks. Feeding on the algae, brine shrimp and brine flies thrive in the lake shallows and provide vital nourishment for migrating shorebirds, eared grebes and phalaropes, among other species; indeed, Mono Lake was added to the Western Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network in 1991. California gulls and snowy plovers nest on Paoha Island and smaller islets, escaping predation by fox and coyotes. Beyond the abundant birdlife, Mono Lake is perhaps best known for its tufa towers of calcium carbonate, produced by the interaction of freshwater springs and the alkaline, mineral-rich lake waters. Students of geology will also appreciate the surrounding volcanic landscape, including the relatively recent Panum and Mono-Inyo craters, south of Mono Lake.
As a basin lake, its size and depth are a balance between inflow from streams and springs and evaporative loss in the dry climate of the Basin and Range Province. Prior to 1941, its surface elevation hovered above 6400 feet but this was dramatically lowered by diversion of inflow to the Los Angeles Water System; legal challenges by conservation groups eventually restored most of the inflow by 1994.
Despite its high salinity (2.5 times that of ocean water) and alkalinity (which precludes fish survival), Mono Lake supports a spectacular ecosystem. Photosynthetic algae, feeding on minerals from the surrounding mountains, bloom in spring when snowmelt peaks. Feeding on the algae, brine shrimp and brine flies thrive in the lake shallows and provide vital nourishment for migrating shorebirds, eared grebes and phalaropes, among other species; indeed, Mono Lake was added to the Western Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network in 1991. California gulls and snowy plovers nest on Paoha Island and smaller islets, escaping predation by fox and coyotes. Beyond the abundant birdlife, Mono Lake is perhaps best known for its tufa towers of calcium carbonate, produced by the interaction of freshwater springs and the alkaline, mineral-rich lake waters. Students of geology will also appreciate the surrounding volcanic landscape, including the relatively recent Panum and Mono-Inyo craters, south of Mono Lake.
Sabtu, 03 Maret 2012
White-Fronts at Eagle Bluffs
It was another spectacular morning at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area today; the sky was clear, the air was cool and both raptors and waterfowl were abundant. Joining the wide variety of ducks were hundreds of American white pelicans, small groups of Canada and snow geese and a large flock of greater white-fronted geese.
Breeding across the Arctic tundra of Alaska and Canada, greater white fronted geese winter along the Gulf Coast, from Louisiana to Mexico, and along the Pacific Coast from Oregon to Mexico; a Greenland subspecies usually winters in the British Isles but may turn up along the Atlantic Coast of the U.S. Another subspecies, known as tule geese, breed in Alaska and winter in marshlands from Oregon to California.
Migrant flocks of greater white-fronted geese, often numbering in the thousands, are usually found west of the Mississippi Valley; there they stop to rest and feed on wetlands and crop fields and, from a distance, may be mistaken for Canada geese. Slimmer and more agile in flight than their Canadian cousins, white-fronts have a higher pitched call, pinkish bills, orange legs and feet and a distinctive white band at the base of their bill. Like most geese, these hardy migrants mate for life and often remain in family groups for a year or more. For some reason, much to the delight of myself and other regional birders, greater white-fronted geese and American white pelicans have become abundant migrants at Eagle Bluffs over the past few years; let's hope that trend continues!
Breeding across the Arctic tundra of Alaska and Canada, greater white fronted geese winter along the Gulf Coast, from Louisiana to Mexico, and along the Pacific Coast from Oregon to Mexico; a Greenland subspecies usually winters in the British Isles but may turn up along the Atlantic Coast of the U.S. Another subspecies, known as tule geese, breed in Alaska and winter in marshlands from Oregon to California.
Migrant flocks of greater white-fronted geese, often numbering in the thousands, are usually found west of the Mississippi Valley; there they stop to rest and feed on wetlands and crop fields and, from a distance, may be mistaken for Canada geese. Slimmer and more agile in flight than their Canadian cousins, white-fronts have a higher pitched call, pinkish bills, orange legs and feet and a distinctive white band at the base of their bill. Like most geese, these hardy migrants mate for life and often remain in family groups for a year or more. For some reason, much to the delight of myself and other regional birders, greater white-fronted geese and American white pelicans have become abundant migrants at Eagle Bluffs over the past few years; let's hope that trend continues!
Sabtu, 11 Februari 2012
Frigid Sunshine at Eagle Bluffs
As we arrived at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning, a large flock of snow geese passed overhead, shimmering in the bright morning sun; it was 12 degrees F. Most of the shallows had frozen over but open pools attracted a mix of wintering ducks, including mallards, gadwalls, coot, green-winged teal, ring-necks and lesser scaup; scattered flocks of Canada geese rested on the ice and a group of pied-billed grebes dove for their breakfast.
Several more flocks of snow geese crossed the refuge during our visit, moving north along the Missouri River Valley, as did a large flock of greater white-fronted geese. Five sandhill cranes had gathered on a wooded island and at least fifty American white pelicans huddled on a sandbar near the south end of the preserve. Ring billed gulls swirled above the open pools, northern harriers zoomed across the dormant crop fields, great blue herons perched in the morning sun and an immature bald eagle soared overhead, oblivious of the frigid air.
Silence ruled this winter scene, broken only by the occasional flocks of noisy geese and the distant calls of headstrong crows. How ironic that the season's first blast of Arctic air should coincide with the first wave of migrant geese. Winter may be strengthening its grip but my money is on the geese; despite this brief setback, the tide of spring has begun.
Several more flocks of snow geese crossed the refuge during our visit, moving north along the Missouri River Valley, as did a large flock of greater white-fronted geese. Five sandhill cranes had gathered on a wooded island and at least fifty American white pelicans huddled on a sandbar near the south end of the preserve. Ring billed gulls swirled above the open pools, northern harriers zoomed across the dormant crop fields, great blue herons perched in the morning sun and an immature bald eagle soared overhead, oblivious of the frigid air.
Silence ruled this winter scene, broken only by the occasional flocks of noisy geese and the distant calls of headstrong crows. How ironic that the season's first blast of Arctic air should coincide with the first wave of migrant geese. Winter may be strengthening its grip but my money is on the geese; despite this brief setback, the tide of spring has begun.
Selasa, 31 Januari 2012
Winter Thaw at Eagle Bluffs
Entering Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning, the windows down on my pickup, it looked like January but felt like April. The brown vegetation and barren trees evoked an image of winter but the mild air, scented with the fragrance of moist soil, spoke of early spring. A rosy dawn backlit the hills to the east, augmenting the feel of an April morning.
Mallards were abundant on the ponds and wet fields, joined by sizable flocks of coot, gadwall, pied-billed grebes and Canada geese; small flocks of shovelers, lesser scaup and ring-necked ducks also graced the scene. As is typical for mid winter, ring-billed gulls swirled above the wetlands, northern harriers strafed the crop fields, red-tailed hawks patrolled the grasslands and an immature bald eagle circled overhead, spooking the ducks. Great blue herons stalked the shallows, sharp-shinned hawks darted through the woodlands and, surprisingly, a quartet of American white pelicans gathered along a marshy shoreline, satisfied to stay up north for this mild winter season.
Parking in a remote lot, I got out to enjoy the spring-like conditions; since the waterfowl hunters have departed and the spring birding crowd has not yet arrived, I was treated to the peaceful solitude of the winter season, minus the blowing snow and frigid air. Though a freight train rumbled west of the Missouri, all other sounds were natural, including the raucous call of crows, the muted chatter of waterfowl, the rustling of sparrows in the dry grass and the drumming of woodpeckers in the riverside forest. A special treat was the distant howl of a coyote, yet another sign that the season of renewal will soon invade the floodplain; I could almost see the purple haze of henbit on the barren fields.
Mallards were abundant on the ponds and wet fields, joined by sizable flocks of coot, gadwall, pied-billed grebes and Canada geese; small flocks of shovelers, lesser scaup and ring-necked ducks also graced the scene. As is typical for mid winter, ring-billed gulls swirled above the wetlands, northern harriers strafed the crop fields, red-tailed hawks patrolled the grasslands and an immature bald eagle circled overhead, spooking the ducks. Great blue herons stalked the shallows, sharp-shinned hawks darted through the woodlands and, surprisingly, a quartet of American white pelicans gathered along a marshy shoreline, satisfied to stay up north for this mild winter season.
Parking in a remote lot, I got out to enjoy the spring-like conditions; since the waterfowl hunters have departed and the spring birding crowd has not yet arrived, I was treated to the peaceful solitude of the winter season, minus the blowing snow and frigid air. Though a freight train rumbled west of the Missouri, all other sounds were natural, including the raucous call of crows, the muted chatter of waterfowl, the rustling of sparrows in the dry grass and the drumming of woodpeckers in the riverside forest. A special treat was the distant howl of a coyote, yet another sign that the season of renewal will soon invade the floodplain; I could almost see the purple haze of henbit on the barren fields.
Kamis, 26 Januari 2012
Mixing Oil & Wetlands
Since I drive a car and heat my home, it would be hypocritical of me to renounce oil production in the U.S. or elsewhere across the globe. Nevertheless, the oil industry has a tendency to minimize its potential impact on wetlands, the most productive ecosystems on our planet.
Sabine National Wildlife Refuge, in extreme southwest Louisiana, is the largest wetland preserve along the Gulf Coast, renowned for its large flocks of wintering waterfowl, its wide variety of wading birds and its resident population of American alligators and wetland mammals. Yet, oil production continues on this preserve despite a significant spill during the winter of 2002-2003 and the devastation of Hurricane Rita, in September, 2005, which spread more than 1400 barrels of toxic chemicals across the refuge. More recently, shortcuts in the startup of BP's Deepwater Horizon inundated coastal marshlands with crude oil, the worst man-made disaster in the history of the Gulf of Mexico. Now, despite concerns for potential damage to wetlands and groundwater across the unique sandhills ecosystem of western Nebraska, conservative politicians and their oil company supporters are attempting to push through the Keystone Pipeline Project before appropriate environmental studies are complete. And, of course, conservationists have been battling proposals to drill in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge for decades.
While we cannot replace fossil fuels with "green" sources of energy overnight, it is equally short-sighted for the oil industry to minimize its impact on fragile and vital ecosystems across our planet. Oil and wetlands will not mix and we destroy those crucibles of life at our own peril.
Sabine National Wildlife Refuge, in extreme southwest Louisiana, is the largest wetland preserve along the Gulf Coast, renowned for its large flocks of wintering waterfowl, its wide variety of wading birds and its resident population of American alligators and wetland mammals. Yet, oil production continues on this preserve despite a significant spill during the winter of 2002-2003 and the devastation of Hurricane Rita, in September, 2005, which spread more than 1400 barrels of toxic chemicals across the refuge. More recently, shortcuts in the startup of BP's Deepwater Horizon inundated coastal marshlands with crude oil, the worst man-made disaster in the history of the Gulf of Mexico. Now, despite concerns for potential damage to wetlands and groundwater across the unique sandhills ecosystem of western Nebraska, conservative politicians and their oil company supporters are attempting to push through the Keystone Pipeline Project before appropriate environmental studies are complete. And, of course, conservationists have been battling proposals to drill in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge for decades.
While we cannot replace fossil fuels with "green" sources of energy overnight, it is equally short-sighted for the oil industry to minimize its impact on fragile and vital ecosystems across our planet. Oil and wetlands will not mix and we destroy those crucibles of life at our own peril.
Rabu, 25 Januari 2012
Harney Basin
Harney Basin is a geologic and topographic basin in southeast Oregon; while it sits adjacent to the northwest corner of the Great Basin, it is separated from that province by the massive fault-block of the Steens Mountain ridge. On its north side, the Harney Basin is bordered by the southern edge of the Blue Mountains while a high lava plain separates the basin from the watersheds of the John Day and Klamath Rivers to the northwest and southwest, respectively.
During warm interglacial periods of the Pleistocene, glacial meltwater from the adjacent highlands filled the Harney Basin, spilling northeastward into the Malheur River, a tributary of the Snake River. Today, as the climate has warmed through the Holocene, the floor of Harney Basin has become a high desert, receiving only 6 inches of precipitation each year; a low divide along the basin's northeast edge, formerly a spillway, now completes the basin topography and all streams flow inward toward Harney and Malheur Lakes, on the basin's floor. Burns, Oregon, is the only sizable town in this remote, high desert basin.
While most of the basin floor is high and dry, with elevations between 4000 and 5200 feet, Malheur Lake, fed by the Silvies River from the Blue Mountains and the Blitzen River from Steens Mountain, provides a rich and welcome oasis for migrant waterfowl, shorebirds, white pelicans and sandhill cranes. Home to many other species as well, the lake and its wetlands are protected as the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge; during seasons with heavy precipitation or snowmelt, Malheur Lake spills west toward Harney Lake, an ephemeral, salt pan lake that is the topographic sink of Harney Basin.
During warm interglacial periods of the Pleistocene, glacial meltwater from the adjacent highlands filled the Harney Basin, spilling northeastward into the Malheur River, a tributary of the Snake River. Today, as the climate has warmed through the Holocene, the floor of Harney Basin has become a high desert, receiving only 6 inches of precipitation each year; a low divide along the basin's northeast edge, formerly a spillway, now completes the basin topography and all streams flow inward toward Harney and Malheur Lakes, on the basin's floor. Burns, Oregon, is the only sizable town in this remote, high desert basin.
While most of the basin floor is high and dry, with elevations between 4000 and 5200 feet, Malheur Lake, fed by the Silvies River from the Blue Mountains and the Blitzen River from Steens Mountain, provides a rich and welcome oasis for migrant waterfowl, shorebirds, white pelicans and sandhill cranes. Home to many other species as well, the lake and its wetlands are protected as the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge; during seasons with heavy precipitation or snowmelt, Malheur Lake spills west toward Harney Lake, an ephemeral, salt pan lake that is the topographic sink of Harney Basin.
Sabtu, 21 Januari 2012
Along the Myakka
The Myakka River, in southwest Florida, one of only two rivers designated "Wild & Scenic" by the Sunshine State, rises in northern Manatee County and flows southward for 60 miles to Charlotte Harbor. Along the way, it passes through the lakes and marshlands of Myakka River State Park, east of Sarasota, and encounters little human development for much of its course; indeed, Sarasota County has been especially committed to protecting its natural channel and three preserves offer access to southern portions of this ecosystem.
Having enjoyed a week along the Gulf Coast, we decided to head inland and explore the lower Myakka corridor. Jelks Preserve, about two miles south of I-75 on North River Road (via the North Port/Englewood Exit), provides an excellent overview of natural habitats along the river as well as scenic views of the Myakka itself; oak hammocks, festooned with Spanish moss, border slash pine flatwoods, marsh-lined ponds and scrub meadows. Armadillos were abundant along the sandy trails, black vultures and bald eagles soared overhead and American alligators, though unseen on our visit, haunt the shallow pools and wetlands. Myakka River State Forest, about 5 miles south of U.S. 41 via River Road, offers an extensive network of trail loops through these same habitats; it was there that we encountered a massive flock of wintering tree swallows, surely numbering in the thousands, and watched a trio of Florida sandhill cranes drift across the bright blue sky. Finally, Myakka Islands Point, a Sarasota County preserve west of North Port, provides access to pine flatwoods (dominated by slash pine, cabbage palm and saw palmetto) which overlook broad swaths of riverside marsh.
South of these preserves the Myakka becomes increasing brackish as it receives tidal inflow; in concert, the river leaves its meandering, tree-lined corridor and open marshlands stretch across its broad floodplain. Alligators that bask along the River's more northern shores avoid these salty waters but manatees, moving in from the bay, now inhabit the Myakka. As expected, wading birds are abundant across this vibrant tidal zone, roosting in tree islands that rise above the marsh.
Having enjoyed a week along the Gulf Coast, we decided to head inland and explore the lower Myakka corridor. Jelks Preserve, about two miles south of I-75 on North River Road (via the North Port/Englewood Exit), provides an excellent overview of natural habitats along the river as well as scenic views of the Myakka itself; oak hammocks, festooned with Spanish moss, border slash pine flatwoods, marsh-lined ponds and scrub meadows. Armadillos were abundant along the sandy trails, black vultures and bald eagles soared overhead and American alligators, though unseen on our visit, haunt the shallow pools and wetlands. Myakka River State Forest, about 5 miles south of U.S. 41 via River Road, offers an extensive network of trail loops through these same habitats; it was there that we encountered a massive flock of wintering tree swallows, surely numbering in the thousands, and watched a trio of Florida sandhill cranes drift across the bright blue sky. Finally, Myakka Islands Point, a Sarasota County preserve west of North Port, provides access to pine flatwoods (dominated by slash pine, cabbage palm and saw palmetto) which overlook broad swaths of riverside marsh.
South of these preserves the Myakka becomes increasing brackish as it receives tidal inflow; in concert, the river leaves its meandering, tree-lined corridor and open marshlands stretch across its broad floodplain. Alligators that bask along the River's more northern shores avoid these salty waters but manatees, moving in from the bay, now inhabit the Myakka. As expected, wading birds are abundant across this vibrant tidal zone, roosting in tree islands that rise above the marsh.
Langganan:
Postingan (Atom)