In Schenley and Frick Parks you can look straight through the forest if you duck your head below four feet high. In Schenley Park the ground is often bare and most plants in that four-foot zone are gone. But one flower, wingstem (Verbesina alternifolia), is doing just fine in the city parks.
The absence of cover from the ground to 4 – 5 feet is called a browseline (below) and is evidence of an overpopulation of white-tailed deer.
According to this KDKA report, the deer population in Schenley Park is estimated at 80-120 per acre, which roughly equates to 57-86 deer per square mile. A 2010 deer study for City Parks found that the parks can support 7-8 deer per square mile, but with 8 to 11 times that number living in Schenley any plant still growing there is definitely something deer don’t eat.
At this time of year the birds are not singing but you often hear a “chip” note in the woods. It’s not the sound of a bird but instead a chipmunk, making the noise that puts “chip” in his name.
“Chip” is warning sound that means Danger From the Ground. Chip Chip Chip Chip, the speaker is warning of a ground-based predator — a cat, raccoon, snake, etc.
Chipmunks “chip” at different speeds, even during the same chipping session, as seen in the 4.5 minute video below. The tonal quality and variable speed give us a hint that it’s a chipmunk speaking, not a bird.
The second most common chipmunk sound is another warning.
“Tock” means Danger From The Air — a clue that birders should look for a raptor. Tock Tock Tock Tock. Listen and learn in this vintage article.
In the photo below the Virginia opossum’s (Didelphis virginiana) opposable back thumb grasps the branch: four toes on one side of the branch, one toe on the other.
You can see it in this skeleton …
… and on the possum’s hind foot with its relatively large thumb pad.
The straight-toed front feet and opposable-thumb back feet make the opossum’s tracks look like paint splats.
And before we adjourn, let’s lay a misconception to rest.
Squirrels and raccoons do not have opposable thumbs.
I was surprised by this for raccoons (Procyon lotor) because their paws are so dexterous. However none of the raccoons’ paws has a toe with a separate hinge. Their paws are flat.
You can see this in their footprints.
So.
We have something vaguely in common with Virginia opposums.
(photos from Wikimedia Commons and by Kate St. John; click on the captions to see the originals)
A year ago in Schenley Park we had such a slow birding day that I wrote, “We worked for every bird.” A year later, nine of us were there yesterday and the birding was even slower! (14 species instead of 19.) However we found lots of insects and two white-tailed bucks in velvet. Here’s the story in pictures, thanks to Connie Gallagher.
Connie saw the very Best Bird, a blue-gray gnatcatcher.
We pondered the identity of these wasps and then remembered, all at once, that they are bald-faced hornets (Dolichovespula maculata), a type of yellowjacket wasp.
There was still dew on the wild senna as this bumblebee gathered nectar.
The browseline is so severe in Schenley Park that there’s no cover for the deer who sleep there during the day. Looking down from the Falloon Trail we saw two bucks, a 7-point buck (at top) and a 10-point below.
Fortunately some of us heard these birds flying overhead. I can tell their identity by shape and the yellow tips of their tails. Cedar waxwings.
Here’s the group that worked for every bird on Sunday. Thank you all for coming!
I had never seen the word “synanthrope” until I found it attached to this photo.
House sparrows are synanthropes. So are pigeons.
A synanthrope (syn-anthrope) [from Greek: syn-anthrope: syn=”together with” + anthropos=”man”] is a wild animal or plant that lives near, and benefits from, an association with humans and the somewhat artificial habitats that people create around themselves.
Horseweed (Erigeron canadensis) and pilewort (Erechtites hieraciifolius) are native North American plants that like disturbed soil. We notice them in August when they start to look ugly.
Two local mammals may be recent synanthropes, formerly shunning humans but now benefiting from our habitat.
Squirrels love our birdseed and shelter (attics).
White-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) prefer forest edges next to open areas, a landscape often created by humans. Have deer become synanthropes?
p.s. (*) Merriam-Webster explains that the word was introduced by botanist Theodor von Heldreich at a botanical conference in Paris, 16-24 August 1878, making its first-ever use almost exactly 144 years ago.
Back in 2010 the City of Pittsburgh commissioned a deer count in the parks that found the population was too high and not sustainable for the habitat. Nothing has been done since then to reduce the deer population other than accidentally killing them with our cars.
Twelve years have passed. According to deer experts “Urban deer can live for 10 years; the deer population, if unchecked, doubles about every two years.” Schenley Park now has as much as 60 times the number of deer we had in 2010. This is truly unsustainable, even for the deer themselves.
Schenley’s deer have completely consumed all the good food plants and are starting to nibble the poisonous ones. The browse line is painfully obvious. In the process deer have eradicated their favorite plants from Schenley Park.
Orange jewelweed and yellow jewelweed provide nectar for hummingbirds and bumblebees and are a favored food of deer.
Both jewelweeds were prolific in Schenley Park as recently as four years ago.
But this year all the accessible plants have been eaten down to bare stems. The only ones that flower are those in spots unreachable by deer — on extremely steep slopes or hidden among thick cattails in Panther Hollow Lake.
Jewelweeds are annuals that must re-seed every year but no seeds are produced in this deer-browsed landscape. Impatiens will disappear from Schenley Park when the seed bank is exhausted.
False Solomon’s seal used to grow throughout Schenley Park and it carpeted the ground in an area near the Bridle Trail. All of it has been eaten to the ground since 2014. Here’s what it looked like eight years ago.
White wood asters used to bloom in Schenley’s woods. Not anymore. Here’s what they looked like in 2013.
Eradicated plants are indirect evidence of too many deer in Schenley Park. Direct evidence is their visibility every day.
A sustainably-sized deer herd would hide in the underbrush while sleeping during the day, but the browse line in Schenley is so severe there is no cover for them. The large herd has coped by becoming accustomed to people and leashed dogs.
I stood near this group of three deer on Sunday 21 August using my snapshot camera zoomed to 90mm (approximately 2x). This 8-point buck did not care that I was there.
Yews are popular landscaping shrubs but they don’t last long in the face of deer overpopulation.
All yew species are toxic to some degree, but our native Taxus canadensis is less toxic than others and was used medicinally. Deer don’t read the warning labels. They love yew.
Every night they creep up behind Carnegie Museum and browse the yews along the driveway to the parking garage. They nip off the small branches and eat all the leaves. The shrubs struggle to grow new leaves for photosynthesis before the deer return.
Deer have killed the yews closest to the sidewalk (dead twigs), overbrowsed the middle shrubs (green knobs), and cannot yet reach the tallest branches. But they are eating their way there.
Don’t assume their love stops with yew. There are more delectables in Schenley Park that they adore. Soon we’ll explore more.
The Virginia opossum (Didelphis virginiana) is a solitary nocturnal animal about the size of a domestic cat and a successful opportunist, so adaptable that it is the northernmost marsupial in the world.
It’s hard to take a bad picture of an American red squirrel (Tamiasciurus hudsonicus). When they pose they look so cute that it’s hard to believe they are asocial, combative and confrontational.
This sleeping squirrel seems to be saying, “I love you, tree.”
Ready to fight? Still cute.
Though they rarely encounter each other — perhaps for their own safety — red squirrels fight when there’s more than one. Most of their battles are a lot of shouting and chasing while the resident squirrel defends his territory.
Defending the midden (food store) is a matter of survival that’s learned in the first year of life. Juvenile red squirrels must find a territory and midden before their first winter or they won’t make it to next spring. Only 22% survive to one year old.
For a few, just 15%, their mothers bequeath them a territory but it still has to be defended. The red squirrels who survive are the most confrontational.
(photos from Wikimedia Commons; click on the captions to see the originals)