When we say that a bird has “moth-like flight” do we mean that its wings move like this? Check out Dr. Adrian Smith’s fifteen moths in slow motion flight.
The Glorious Scarab Beetle (Chrysina gloriosa) pictured at top was hiding underground when gardening unearthed it in its native US range of Arizona, New Mexico, Texas.
Hidden gems include Beyer’s scarab which I saw in southeastern Arizona in 2015, described in this vintage article: Like a Jewel.
Beyer’s Scarab Beetle (Chrysina beyeri) at Carr Canyon, Arizona, 30 July 2015 (photo by Kate St. John)
In the eastern US we have beautiful scarab beetles in our own backyards.
Songbirds (Oscines) are the majority of the world’s birds as you can see circled on the supertree below. In August 2016 we found out that all of them originated in Australia. Here’s how it happened.
The world was a very different place during the Oligocene 35 million years ago. For one thing there was a big gap between Australia and Asia and songbirds’ ancestors could not leave Australia.
Then about 25 million years ago a land bridge formed when tectonic activity forced a patch of islands called Wallacea to the ocean’s surface. Wallacea, now part of Indonesia, bridged the gap and was the first step on the songbirds’ journey. (Ancient Wallacea in yellow below.)
Others, like waxwings (Bombycillidae), have few DNA traces to show the path they took. Waxwings’ living DNA relatives are found only in Wallacea, North America and northern Eurasia.
Cedar waxwing (photo by Cris Hamilton)
Learn more about songbirds’ amazing journey in these articles:
It was a wonder in 2014 when, after centuries of ornithologists saying that only male birds sing, Karan Odom at University of Maryland documented singing females. Most of the species live in the tropics but even back then 150 female-singing species were documented in North America.
Mockingbirds are also unusual because they sing in autumn when other birds are silent. They do it because they change location. Those that nest in the northern end of their range migrate south while others move locally (see animated eBird map). When mockingbirds “reappear” in September they are singing again to claim new territory.
Males and females look alike and they aren’t paired up in winter so we cannot tell which sex is singing. Nevertheless we can hear them. Here are some examples.
28 Sep 2021 in Cincinnati, Ohio:
7 Nov 2019 in Harlingen, TX:
I see mockingbirds in Pittsburgh in the winter. Are they local transplants or from further north? Are they male or female? I dunno.
7-point buck in Schenley Park, 28 Aug 2022 (photo by Connie Gallagher)
29 August 2022
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.
Blue-gray gnatcatcher, Schenley Park, 28 August 2022 (photo by Connie Gallagher)
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.
Bald-faced hornets at their paper nest in a pignut hickory, Schenley Park, 28 Aug 2022 (photo by Connie Gallagher)
There was still dew on the wild senna as this bumblebee gathered nectar.
Bumblebee on wild senna, Schenley Park, 28 Aug 2022 (photo by Connie Gallagher)
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.
10-point buck in Schenley Park, 28 Aug 2022 (photo by Connie Gallagher)
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.
Cedar waxwings fly over, Schenley Park, 28 Aug 2022 (photo by Connie Gallagher)
Here’s the group that worked for every bird on Sunday. Thank you all for coming!
Schenley Park outing, 28 August 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
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.
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.
Sunrise in Pittsburgh, 19 August 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
27 August 2022
This week’s weather put on a sky show.
Clouds…
Cloud stacks, 22 August 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
Lightning and lots of it!Dave Dicello captured a split lightning bolt simultaneously hitting BNY Mellon and the east end of Duquesne University (more than 1/2 mile away) on Sunday morning 21 August. Click here for his latest sky/panorama photos or here for his website.
This lightning strike in #Pittsburgh was one of the closest I’ve ever captured, and certainly one of the clearest and most dramatic. This isn’t a composite; all these bolts happened within a fraction of a second, creating a terrifyingly beautiful scene. A new all time favorite. pic.twitter.com/IlYp9jNbW2
Anticrepuscular rays… are relatively rare and appear opposite the sun at sunrise or sunset. Caused by the backscattering of atmospheric light, the rays we saw on 23 August spanned the sky. I took a photo from my window but it pales in comparison to Dave DiCello’s (@DaveDiCello) from a different vantage point. His tweet and video are shared below my photo.
A cloud shadow across the sky, an anticrepuscular ray, 23 August 2022 (photo by Kate St. John)
What a sunset in #Pittsburgh tonight. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen. I’ve captured anti-crepuscular rays before, but never ones that stretched across the entire sky. And then the color as the sun was going down? Absolutely absurd. This has been a CRAZY 48 hours of weather. pic.twitter.com/IeU6WdF5it
This is one of the wildest skies I’ve ever seen over #pittsburgh. Anti-crepuscular rays are shooting across the entire sky. Completely insane to capture. pic.twitter.com/Iitzv98fEL
Do you see the cougar’s shadow pouncing down from above?
This shadow on the Superstition Mountains, Apache Junction, AZ, the cougar, only appears twice a year for approximately a week just as the sun is setting. pic.twitter.com/yJH5LW9Uhz
Since moving to the 6th floor of a high-rise two years ago we have had no indoor bugs at all. Then, about a week ago, two extremely small bugs with waists and knobbed antennae showed up on the kitchen floor, standing there just outside the bottom of the stove.
They are not interested in water or sweets but only rarely attracted to a very tiny bit of grain or seed. They never fly. They just walk slowly — so slowly that it’s easy to catch one and put it in a ziploc bag (shown below).
Mystery insects (in ziploc bag) compared to a penny for size (photo by Kate St. John)
Finding two bugs was a curiosity but a week later finding 20 bugs every morning felt like a problem. I checked inside my food cupboards — no bugs at all — and gave my bug-ziploc to building maintenance who is checking for bugs in adjacent units. I’m not to spray in case there will be a multi-floor solution in the days ahead.
Meanwhile Nature’s solution to tiny bugs ran right up to me.
This morning a house centipede (Scutigera coleoptrata), a top predator of insects, ran toward me across the carpet. I screamed! Then I remembered he would eat those little bugs if I could just catch him alive and carry him to the kitchen.
Catching a centipede on the spur of the moment is very tricky. (They run fast!) I fashioned a piece of paper to enclose him and got him to run onto the paper but time after time he ran out the corners of the trap. Finally I enclosed him, carried him to the kitchen, and let him loose below the stove.
Centipede trap and carry (re-enactment photo by Kate St. John)
A top predator has been moved into position under the stove. I can hardly wait for the house centipede to eat those mystery bugs!
Learn more about house centipedes in this vintage article.
With the breeding season over and their youngsters dispersed the Cathedral of Learning peregrines stay on territory, molt a few more feathers, and quietly preen in the sun. Morela and Ecco have no pressing need to court each other but they strengthen their pair bond by bowing at the nest a couple of times a week.
The bowing session on Sunday 21 August was longer than usual. Watch them in the slideshow above.