Earth will be a different sort of place — soon, in just five or six human generations. My label for that place, that time, that apparently unavoidable prospect, is the Planet of Weeds.
The plants pictured here are some of those weeds, all of them non-native invasives that happen to provide food for birds and small mammals.
Last week in Frick Park large flocks of American robins gobbled up oriental bittersweet, honeysuckle and porcelain berry fruits. As they continue their migration they’ll deposit the seeds along the way.
(Amur) honeysuckle fruit, NMR Trail, 27 Oct 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)Porcelain berry fruit, NMR Trail, 27 Oct 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
Animals that aren’t afraid of thorns eat the fruits of Japanese barberry.
Japanese barberry in October (photo by Kate St. John)
After the frost softens the Callery pears robins and starlings strip the fruit from these invasive trees.
Callery pear fruits in November 2012 (photo by Kate St. John)
Even though the fruits are “weeds” they can be beautiful.
Greater yellowlegs, Duck Hollow, 30 Oct 2022 (photo by Lisa Kaufman)
31 October 2022
Birds are considered rare when they show up at a time or place that’s unusual for them. The rarest are the birds out of place, two of which we saw yesterday at Duck Hollow.
The surf scoter (Melanitta perspicillata) first seen at Duck Hollow by John Flannigan on 26 October was still present on the 30th. Autumn is the right time of year to find a surf scoter migrating through Pennsylvania but Pittsburgh is a rare place to find one. Surf scoters nest in Alaska and northern Canada and spend the winter at the coasts.
We saw the scoter yesterday drifting downstream beyond the Homestead Grays Bridge in a view similar to Michelle Kienholz’s photo below. This dark and distant duck with a ‘Roman nose’ and some white on its head/face was a Life Bird for many in the group. (Click here for a better photo by Justin Kolakowski.)
Surf scoter at Duck Hollow, 26 Oct 2022, 5:44pm (photo by Michelle Kienholz)
Our favorite rare bird of the day was the greater yellowlegs (Tringa melanoleuca) that we heard before we found him. Greater yellowlegs had never been recorded at Duck Hollow in autumn and rarely show up in Allegheny County even in spring. They nest in Canada and Alaska and spend the winter near the US southern coasts and in Central and South America.
When we heard his call (similar to audio below) we went down to the shore to find him.
Greater and lesser yellowlegs are similar but our bird’s vocalization, his slightly upturned beak and his behavior were diagnostic.
Generally walks with high-stepping gait; occasionally runs with neck extended. Movements rapid and jerky.
Two years ago, on 6 June 2020, Steve Gosser was birding at McConnell’s Mill when he heard a scarlet tanager singing but it didn’t look like one. Steve’s photos showed the bird to be a cross between a rose-breasted grosbeak and a scarlet tanager.
Hybrid rose-breasted grosbeak + scarlet tanager singing, June 2020 (photo by Steve Gosser)
The next day ornithologists Bob Mulvihill and Steve Latta banded the bird and took blood samples for DNA testing. At top, Steve Gosser holds the bird before releasing him after banding while Bob dubbed the bird a “Scarlet Gosserbeak.” The bird was slightly famous when I blogged about him on 8 June 2020 at Who Is this Mystery Bird.
Mulvihill and Latta submitted the DNA samples for analysis and received an answer in February 2021 that the bird is indeed a hybrid of a rose-breasted grosbeak mother + scarlet tanager father. His scientific name is Pheucticus ludovicianus x Piranga olivacea (mother’s species listed first).
No one had ever heard of such a hybrid. The birds are in the same family, Cardinalidae, but not closely related. Tanagers are Piranga genus, grosbeaks are Pheucticus genus.
Sunrise in Pittsburgh, 28 October 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
29 October 2022
Fall color was brilliant this week, especially at sunrise.
Bright red was gone from our hillsides as the maples faded but other leaves took up the slack in yellow and orange. Below:
Bottlebrush buckeyes are yellow in Schenley Park.
Japanese knotweed is yellow-orange at Duck Hollow.
Blue-green porcelain berries were eagerly eaten by migrating robins.
Red honeysuckle berries attracted cardinals and house finches.
Confused flowers! Forsythia bloomed along the Nine Mile Run Trail even though its leaves were a deep purple-red.
Red oaks are red-orange in Schenley Park.
Bottlebrush buckeye leaves turn yellow in Schenley Park, 25 October 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
Fall color, Japanese knotweed, Duck Hollow, 27 October 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
Porcelain berry fruit, Nine Mile Run Trail, 27 October 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)Honeysuckle fruit, Nine Mile Run Trail, 27 October 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)Forsythia blooming in late October, NMR Trail, 27 October 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)Fall color, Schenley Park from Panther Hollow Bridge, 25 October 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
Back in the Late Permian, 258 to 252 million years ago, there was a family of gliding lizards called Weigeltisauridae whose fossils have been found in Germany, Britain, Russia and Madagascar. Europeans drew them as dragons.
Today there are still gliding lizards on Earth but they are smaller and live in Asian jungles. Dracos can glide 100+ feet from tree to tree by extending their long skin-covered ribs.
Bald eagles are birds of prey that eat fish, right? Well, mostly fish. Bald eagles are opportunistic feeders that will grab what they can get. Most of the time they catch live fish but they’ll also pounce on ducks and coots, steal fish from ospreys, scavenge on roadkill and fight each other for tasty morsels.
Juvenile bald eagles are not skilled at fishing so many opt for easy meals found elsewhere, particularly at landfills. It may be junk food but it keeps them satisfied.
Raven over Dawson Street near Schenley Park, 23 October 2022, 8:30am (photo by Andrea Lavin Kossis)
26 October 2022
During the summer corvids stay home to raise their families but as soon as the breeding season is over they move around. In autumn large flocks of American crows return to Pittsburgh to join the winter roost while a few common ravens show up, alone or in pairs.
This month the crows and ravens are back in town. Since August their populations have gone through several phases.
Crows flying to the roost, Pittsburgh, 16 Oct 2021 (photo by Kate St. John)
Late August: On 30 August a surprising count of 380 fish crows gathered on rooftops at Fifth & Craig while only 12 American crows were present that evening.
September: By 6 September fish crow numbers dropped from 30 to zero. American crow numbers rose through the hundreds. No ravens.
October so far: On 10 October a high count 620 American crows flew past “the doorknob” water tower at dusk. By late October no crows were counted because they changed their route. However we now see and hear ravens!
The “doorknob” water tower at dusk, Upper Hill, October 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
Ravens in town?
Crows migrate. Adult ravens stay home year round. However, young ravens go wandering until they reach sexual maturity at three years old. From fall through early spring a handful of these ravens visit Pittsburgh.
Last Sunday 23 October Andrea Lavin Kossis saw two ravens on Dawson Street dining on some “delicious roadkill.” The pair even had something to say about it.
Brock! Brock!
p.s. In December I’ll enlist your help to find the crow roost in time for the Pittsburgh Christmas Bird Count.
Doe drinks from a pond in Homewood Cemetery, Pittsburgh, 10 October 2022 (photo by John English)
25 October 2022
If you’ve been watching white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) in the City of Pittsburgh you’ve noticed that they’ve changed their behavior since early September. Back then deer were easy find in groups during the day but now in October they seem to have gone missing. Soon — very soon — they’ll be running into traffic. All of this is part of their breeding season, called the rut, which is driven by photoperiod.
In late summer, white-tailed deer hang out in bachelor groups of adult males and matriarchal groups of does with fawns. As the rut goes through phases, described below, the dynamics change. In the city we live with so many deer that it’s good to know the phases.
Pre-Rut Phase: In late September and early October testosterone levels rise in the bucks, they rub on trees and shed velvet from their antlers. The bachelor groups break up as each male goes it alone and adjusts his home range. During this phase the bucks eat a lot, especially acorns. Once the rut begins they’ll be too busy to eat while chasing, breeding and tending does.
Seeking and Chasing Phase: As the females begin coming into estrous the males search for and chase does in heat. The bucks move around lot, averaging 3-6 miles per day. Meanwhile doe+fawn groups break up as adult females become distracted. Watch out! They may run into traffic.
The late summer groups have already broken up in Schenley and Frick Parks. The only deer I’ve seen recently are lone females or almost grownup fawns.
At the peak of the rut bucks make long excursions out of their home range in search of females, sometimes 10-20 miles. The peak also includes a “tending” phase during which bucks and does pair up and hide in thick cover to breed repeatedly.
Post-Rut Phase: Activity drops off precipitously in early December after most of the does have bred. Adults stop wandering and settle into their home ranges. The males still have antlers and some will search for recently-matured fawns that come into estrous (red color in graph above), but the frantic edge is gone.
When will we see deer in lazy groups again in the city parks? Wait and see.
11+ deer in Schenley Park, Cathedral of Learning in distance, March 2019 (photo by Kate St John)
The Monongahela River at Duck Hollow, 25 Oct 2019 (photo by Kate St. John)
24 October 2022
Right now our weather is in Second Summer but by next weekend Pittsburgh should be back in Jacket Weather. It’s a lovely time to be outdoors so join me next Sunday 30 October 2022, 8:30am to 10:30am, for a bird and nature walk at Duck Hollow.
We’ll walk nearby paths looking for birds, interesting plants, and lingering insects. Mallard behavior may attract our attention because mallards are courting right now.
Dress for the weather and wear comfortable walking shoes. Bring binoculars, field guides and a birding scope if you have them.
Visit the Events page before you come in case of changes or cancellations.
The archaeological record shows that life on Earth has experienced five mass extinctions in which 70% to 90% of all species disappeared (*). After each extinction life came back.
The extinction rate today indicates we are now in the midst of a sixth mass extinction. Scientists predict that due to human pressure, habitat loss and climate change as much as 50% of all species will go extinct by 2100. [1] [2] [3] [4]
Interestingly, the IUCN Red List’s extinction ranking shows that birds may not fare as badly as many other organisms. It’s bad news for conifers, frogs and horseshoe crabs, though.
from Wikimedia Commons
In the short term we are helping some species such as the Guam kingfisher (Todiramphus cinnamominus), shown above, already extinct in the wild and in a captive breeding program. In the long term we humans could change our ways to slow or stop species decline. Knowing humans, it doesn’t look good. We can mourn the future but if we take a very long view there is hope.
After the sixth mass extinction, what will happen next?
David Quammen‘s article Planet of Weeds in Harper’s October 1998 described the current mass extinction and asked eminent paleontologist David Jablonski “What next?” The article is quoted below.
Among the last questions I asked Jablonski was, What will happen after this mass extinction, assuming it proceeds to a worst-case scenario? If we destroy half or two thirds of all living species, how long will it take for evolution to fill the planet back up? “I don’t know the answer to that,” he said. “I’d rather not bottom out and see what happens next.” In the journal paper he had hazarded that, based on fossil evidence in rock laid down atop the K-T event and others, the time required for full recovery might be five or ten million years. From a paleontological perspective, that’s fast. “Biotic recoveries after mass extinctions are geologically rapid but immensely prolonged on human time scales,” he wrote. There was also the proviso, cited from another expert, that recovery might not begin until after the extinction-causing circumstances have disappeared. But in this case, of course, the circumstances won’t likely disappear until we do.
Still, evolution never rests. It’s happening right now, in weed patches all over the planet. … So we might reasonably imagine an Earth upon which, ten million years after the extinction (or, alternatively, the drastic transformation) of Homo sapiens, wondrous forests are again filled with wondrous beasts. That’s the good news.
440 million years ago: Ordovician-Silurian Extinction: Small marine organisms died out at a time when life only existed in the oceans. 85% of all species went extinct.
365 million years ago: Devonian Extinction: Many tropical marine species went extinct. 70% of all species lost.
250 million years ago: Permian-triassic Extinction: The largest mass extinction event in Earth’s history. 90% of all species.
210 million years ago: Triassic-jurassic Extinction: The extinction of other vertebrate species on land allowed dinosaurs to flourish. 70% to 75% of all species went extinct.
65 million years ago: K-Pg (or K-T) Extinction: The event that killed the dinosaurs. 75% of all species lost.
