Yearly Archives: 2010

Anatomy: Nictitating Membrane

Great horned owl blinking its thrid eyelid (photo by Chuck Tague)
Great horned owl blinking its thrid eyelid (photo by Chuck Tague)

This great horned owl is winking sideways!

He’s closing his nictitating membrane.

The nictitating membrane, or third eyelid, is named for the Latin word “to blink” (nictare).   Its function is to protect and moisten the eye while allowing the animal to see.  Sometimes the membrane is transparent, sometimes translucent.  It depends upon the species.

Birds, reptiles, fish and amphibians have nictitating membranes but in most mammals it’s only a vestigial remnant in the inside corner of the eye.  Mammals who swim frequently, such as polar bears and beavers, are one exception to that rule.  They have transparent, fully functional third eyelids which they use like underwater goggles.

Though all birds have nictitating membranes it’s rare to see birds blink.  Sometimes you can capture a raptor blinking because its eyes are so big and it uses its third eyelid a lot.

Birds of prey close their nictitating membranes while capturing prey.  They can’t afford to have the prey scratch their eyes!  Peregrines rapidly blink their nictitating membranes while diving at top speed and close them while feeding their sharp-beaked young.

Having said it’s hard to see a bird blink, I’ll show you two examples.

Here’s a female peregrine with her third eyelid closed.  Notice that it’s white.

Peregrine falcon sleeps at her nest (photo from National Aviary webcam)
Peregrine falcon sleeps at her nest (photo from National Aviary webcam)

And here’s a Eurasian collared dove with its eyes closed.

Eurasian collared dove with its nictitating membranes closed (photo by Chuck Tague)
Eurasian collared dove with its nictitating membranes closed (photo by Chuck Tague)

It’s all in the blink of an eye.  😉

(photos by Chuck Tague)

It’s Peregrine Time!

Falconcam splash screen (from the National Aviary and Wildearth.tv)
Hooray, the falconcams are up and running!

Last month the National Aviary installed new webcams with streaming video, audio and infrared night vision at the Gulf Tower and the Cathedral of Learning peregrine nests in Pittsburgh.  Both cams are now live on their website.

At the Gulf Tower you can see and hear Tasha dig the scrape where she’ll lay her eggs.  Sometimes she stands on the nest, all puffed up, and chirps to tell Louie she’s there.

At Pitt’s Cathedral of Learning there are two cameras.  The new one broadcasts sight and sound when Dorothy or E2 arrives at the nest and calls to the other for courtship bows.  The original camera provides snapshots of the action on the same webpage at lower right.

Both nests have infrared lights now and all three cameras can “see” it so you’ll be able to watch the birds day and night.  Wow!

This new technology was installed by PixController and streams from Wildearth.tv.  They’re the ones who set up the famous Lily the Bear webcam where viewers saw Lily give birth to a cub on January 22.  PixController is based near Pittsburgh and has lots of streaming experience including their own Pennsylvania Woodland Cam where you can watch deer, wild turkeys, foxes, squirrels and birds.

The falconcams have been live at wildearth.tv for a week or two.  If you’ve been watching there you’ll be happy to see that the Aviary’s webpage images are a little larger.

So bookmark the pages below, click on the Play arrow and keep watching.  You’ll be glued to your computer – just like me – watching Dorothy and Tasha lay their eggs.

See the Cathedral of Learning webcams here (http://www.aviary.org/cons/falconcam_cl.php) or click on the splash screen above.
See the Gulf Tower here (http://www.aviary.org/cons/falconcam_gt.php).
And for quick reference I’ve posted the links as “Resources” in the left hand column of this blog.

It’s peregrine time!

(This photo of Dorothy by Pat Szczepanski is the splash screen for the National Aviary’s webcam at the University of Pittsburgh.)

Snow, go away!

Peregrine (Beauty) in deep snow, Feb 27, 2010 (photo from Rochester, NY webcam)

3 March 2010

It looks like this peregrine is complaining about the snow last weekend.  Was this in Pittsburgh?

No, it’s Rochester, New York where they got even more snow than we did during last Friday’s storm.

This is Beauty at the Times Square nest box in Rochester.  She’s staying close to the nest because she’s facing stiff competition for this prime site and she’s determined not to lose it.  Beauty hatched at the University of Pittsburgh in 2007, daughter of Dorothy and Erie.  I’ll bet this box reminds her of where she was born.

It’s easy to watch Beauty on the web this spring.  Rochester Falconcam has two cameras at the Times Square nest box and two at the Powers Building, an alternate nestbox nearby.  Read about Rochester’s peregrines and watch Beauty on camera at this link.  And don’t miss Carol Phillips’ photos of the peregrines in Rochester, NY.

Yes, peregrine nesting season is coming – ready or not.  The snow is already melting and by the end of the month there will be eggs in most of the nests.  Can you believe it!?!

(photo of Beauty from the Times Square webcam in Rochester, NY)

So cute

Great horned owl mother and owlet (photo by Chuck Tague)
One of the highlights of my trip to Florida was a visit to Fort Matanzas National Monument to see the great horned owl‘s nest.

I say the great horned owl’s nest because it’s so easy to see that it’s become one of the Fort’s main attractions – at least to birders.

The nest is on the branch of a huge live oak about 20 feet above the sidewalk behind the Visitor’s Center.  It is so centrally located that everyone who takes the boat tour must walk beneath it.  The backyard slopes up from the live oak and on that rise the National Park Service has set up scopes with a view straight into the nest.  The father owl always perches nearby and there’s a scope on him too.  You can see the entire family close up.  Amazing!

The day I visited, mother owl was brooding her baby who sleepily stirred on the nest.  The baby yawned and blinked.  He stretched and poked at the ferns with his beak.  Mama sheltered him with her wing and Papa watched from his nearby roost.  All was peaceful.  This baby is well protected by two powerful adult owls with sharp beaks and talons and by signs and explanations from the National Park rangers.

Chuck took plenty of pictures while we were there and returned a week later to see how much the baby had grown.  Click on the photo to see what he looked like last weekend.

So cute!

(photos by Chuck Tague)

Snowiest on Record

Queen Anne's Lace in winter (photo by Marcy Cunkelman)
It’s the last day of the shortest month of the year.  Thank heaven!  

As of this morning the first 27 days of February produced 48.3 inches of snowfall.  This is already the snowiest month ever recorded in Pittsburgh and if any accumulates today the record will go higher.  Today’s forecast calls for snow.  Less than an inch.  Hmmmm.

Until this month I was always happy to see snow.  Perhaps my short respite in Florida lowered my tolerance.  Perhaps more than four feet of it turned me off.

I still think snow is beautiful but I’m weary of it.

(photo by Marcy Cunkelman)

Drama at the Inlet

Kate St. John birding at Matanzas Inlet, Florida (photo by Chuck Tague)
You’d think I’d be sorry to be back in Pittsburgh (since last Tuesday night) but I learned that birding is not always a warm weather sport, even in a warm weather location like Florida.

Here I am at Matanzas Inlet on February 19th.  Notice my coat, hat and gloves.

I didn’t notice when Chuck Tague took this picture because I was so absorbed in a drama unfolding on the water.  The tide was going out and the fish were caught in the current.  This spawned a feeding frenzy of gulls and terns who dove to catch the fish while others chased to steal them.

As I watched, a royal tern caught a particularly beautiful long, thin, silver fish almost like an eel.  The laughing gulls chased the tern but he evaded them until a great black-backed gull tackled him and slammed him down on the water.  The gull sat on the tern, grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled his head back until he could see the tern’s beak.  By then the tern had dropped the fish and there was nothing to steal.  Disappointed, the gull let the tern struggle free.

What a bully!  I felt bad for the tern.  The gull didn’t win his dinner but he won my respect.

(photo by Chuck Tague)

Anatomy: Crown

White-crowned Sparrow (photo by Marcy Cunkelman, altered to highlight the crown)Here’s a conundrum:  All birds have crowns but not every bird is crowned.

In bird anatomy the crown is the top of the head.  All birds have one and it’s usually unremarkable.  When the crown is pretty or a different color the bird is often named for it.  Thus the white-crowned sparrow pictured here. 

I usually see white-crowned sparrows from the side or below with little opportunity to examine their crowns, so this picture is a rare treat.  Notice how the edges of his crown are jagged.  If they were straight the white patch would probably be called a stripe.  The elaborate crown camouflages this bird in dappled sunlight and he raises it to claim territory.  Pretty cool. 

Surprisingly there are not many “crowned” birds in North America and even fewer in southwestern Pennsylvania.  Here you’re likely to see only these:

  • Black-crowned night-heron
  • Ruby-crowned kinglet
  • Golden-crowned kinglet
  • Orange-crowned warbler
  • White-crowned sparrow

And of those listed above, you’ll be lucky to see the crowns on the kinglets and warbler.  They only raise it when they’re excited.

(photo by Marcy Cunkelman)

Beyond Bounds: Anhinga

Anhinga (photo by Kim Steininger)
Is this a water turkey?  Snake-bird?  American Darter?  Or Anhinga anhinga?

It’s all of the above.

The anhinga has many names because it’s such a strange bird.  It has a large fan tail like a turkey and a long thin neck like a snake.  It darts underwater and impales fish with its bill.  Its Latin name came from its common name which came from a South American (Tupi) word for forest demon.

The anhinga genus are tropical birds that occur worldwide, anywhere there’s warm water, lots of sun, sticks to stand on and plenty of fish.  Those in the Western Hemisphere are called “anhinga.”  The rest are called darters.

Anhingas eat fish and they swim to catch them.  Their hunting technique is to lurk and dart so they’re specially adapted to neither float nor sink.  Often they swim with only their heads and necks visible.  To achieve this neutral buoyancy they have dense bones and wettable feathers.  When their feathers are wet, they get cold and must haul themselves out of the water and spread their wings to dry.  That’s why they need lots of sun and sticks to stand on.

This, of course, means anhingas are practically unheard of in Pennsylvania.  I don’t know of a sighting in southwestern Pennsylvania but anhingas do wander and occasionally appear in spring or fall along eastern Pennsylvania migration routes.  When found, the bird is soaring and on the move.  One or two lucky birders notice it … and then it’s gone.

But they seem to be everywhere in Florida, sunning their wings.  That’s where Kim Steininger photographed this one.

(photo by Kim Steininger)

Why don’t they fly?

Male ostrich in Ngorongoro (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

Huge flightless birds occur on many continents.  The ostrich lives in Africa, emus and cassowaries in Australia, rheas in South America and the giant moa, now extinct, in New Zealand.

For a long time scientists thought all these birds had a common flightless ancestor which lived on the mega-continent Gondwana before it separated into today’s smaller continents.  The theory was that the flightless birds were stranded on their separate lands and then diverged.

But now, thanks to DNA sequencing of the giant moa, scientists at Australian National University (ANU) have shown that its nearest ancestor is a small flying bird, the tinamou of South America.  Long after Gondwana broke apart the tinamou flew to New Zealand.  Millions of years later some of its descendants had evolved into the giant moa.

Why did this happen?  The ability to fly is such a huge advantage, how could these birds afford to lose it?  ANU’s molecular dating suggests that the flightless species had been flying birds who fed on the ground and could run well.  When the dinosaurs went extinct there was suddenly a lot of food, fewer predators and less need to fly to escape them.  Over time some ground-dwelling birds became quite big and heavy.  They didn’t need to fly and eventually they couldn’t.

Voila the ostrich!  An unexpected outcome from of the extinction of the dinosaurs.

For more information see this article in Science Daily.

(photo by Nicor from Wikimedia under Creative Commons Share Alike 3.0 license. Click on the caption to see the original)

Swan Divorce

Bewick's swan (photo from Wikimedia Commons)
Bewick’s swan (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

Some species are so completely monogamous that, once mated, the pairs stay together for the rest of their lives.

This level of faithfulness is rare. Humans strive for it but we and many other species tend to practice serial monogamy: pairing with one mate, then breaking up and pairing with another.

For tundra swans (whose subspecies include Bewick’s swans) their pairings are truly “Til death do us part.”  Swans are so wedded to their one mate that a widowed swan may not choose a new mate for a very long time — if ever.

So it was with great surprise that staff at the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust Centre at Slimbridge, UK noticed that a pair of Bewick’s swans had apparently divorced.

Bewick’s swans nest in Siberia.  The western group spends the winter in Denmark, the Netherlands and the British Isles, returning to the same site year after year.  Because each Bewick’s swan has a unique yellow and black bill pattern, naturalists at Slimbridge are able to identify the individual swans who come to their refuge.

That’s how they found out that Sarindi and Saruni had split.

Last fall Sarindi came back to Slimbridge with a new mate so naturalists feared the worst – Saruni was dead.  But Saruni arrived with her new mate and there they were, all four birds on the same lake and the former couple not acknowledging each other.

No one knows why this pair went their separate ways but it’s such a rare occurrence – only the second time in over 40 years – that it rated its own headline in the BBC News.  Swan divorce.

 

(photo of Bewick’s Swan showing its distinctively marked bill, by Adrian Pingstone, from Wikipedia in the public domain)