NEW - link to North Creek Bird List

http://www.scribd.com/doc/16523559/North-Creek-Park-Bird-List-and-Brochure

Mother Goose

A couple days ago, I inadvertently startled a tiny Gadwall duckling that was dabbling around the flow channel between pond and wetland at the south end of the park. There were no obvious sightings of mama Gadwall but the little, downy fellow seemed pretty sure that life would be safer on the opposite bank of the pond from where I stood, so flailing both stubby wings and tiny feet, he did his very best to run on water to the far bank. Once across he was loosely joined by his siblings, a wildly independent bunch that seemed more intent on individual exploration than being comforted by the safety of a parent or by the numbers of the flock. I have no idea if this is a common trait among Gadwall offspring, but it contrasted sharply with the family of tightly linked mallards that were seen swimming bill-to-tail on the west bank of the pond or of the closely protected Canadian geese broods with mom and dad flanking each rank.

Watching them makes me consider the debate of nurture vs. nature and wondering how the seemingly different levels of parent protection shape the success of each individual. Is it good to foster independence early in life? Or is it better to offer a narrow path of protection through that vulnerable dance of youth. As a parent, I suppose I’m prone to favor that embrace of protection and yet, there was something captivating and admirable about watching those young Gadwalls take on life, seemingly by themselves.

This spring we have celebrated graduations and new beginnings for all three of our children. Whether it is nature or nurture, I hope they are equipped to take on the world. I encourage them to be bold, explore, experience; continue to grow in knowledge and understanding. Be a baby Gadwall! And in the meantime, I will be a mama goose, ready to protect just in case the need ever arises.

THE GLEEFUL SEASON

She likes ducks. That’s how my kids might introduce me, “This is my Mom, she likes ducks.” It’s true, I do like most waterfowl and during this time of year who isn’t captivated by the antics of baby ducks? I call this the gleeful season, because watching fluffy balls of newly hatched offspring is joyful, and yet, so humorous that I can’t think of a better word to describe the feeling than glee. Quick, follow mom! No, dash after that insect! No, scamper back to see what that was in the grass. Whoops…where’s mom? Trip, fall, jump up, find the flock. Each duckling seems like a possible candidate for the Attention Deficit Disorder poster child; their behavior so erratic and different from mama duck, whose slow deliberate movements and focused attention suggest a knowledge of the dangers lying in wait for her young brood.

Ducks hatch, on average, seven to twelve ducklings and their survival is not only threatened by predators, but also on the abundance and quality of local wetlands. Shallow wetlands that spawn and support rich insect and snail populations supply an instant food source for precocious ducklings that hatch ready to feed. Ducklings must have this supply of protein rich insects in order to survive their first few weeks of life. Early precipitation that allow for a mosaic of neighboring, shallow wetlands increase survival, but once the ducklings are hatched, inclement weather, such as heavy rain, wind and cold, tip the balance and survival rates drop. Survival rate for ducklings is so dependent upon weather and the resultant hydrology patterns of wetlands that survival rates can fluctuate wildly from 10% to 70%. (Ducks Unlimited, Dr. Brian Davis, May/June 2009)

The key is having enough rain to support the wetlands and ensuing insect populations, but not so much rain that ducklings are kept close to mom for warmth, preventing them from nibbling up the protein they need.

Although we had an atypical winter, the North Creek wetlands seem to be sporting plenty of wet mudflats and insects. The last few days have been balmy and mild, ideal for raising a young brood. Although I’ve seen a couple young Canadian Geese families, I have yet to see my first bunch of new ducklings, but surely it is that time of year and perhaps today will be the opening day of the gleeful season.

THE QUEASY PARTS

“It was pretty disturbing”, said the gentlemen before me. Recognizing him as a birder, I had stopped at the north entrance to the park to visit and compare notes. “When I was here on Thursday,” he said, “the eagles were completely decimating the eggs and all the herons were lined up in the trees about 100 yards away looking very angry.”

“It is sad,” I remarked. “I heard the same thing happened last year and it makes me wonder how much more the herons will take before abandoning this rookery.” He shrugged and the two of us stood quiet, starring off into the distance, contemplating the loss of the Blue Heron nesting grounds.

Maybe I was raised on too much Disney and not enough Planet Earth, but there are some parts of nature that just make me queasy. I’m drawn to nature watching because of the intense beauty and diversity of the subjects, but when they start eating each other I’m reminded that it is not all cute and fluffy. It’s not just eagles eating heron eggs, I’m also distraught when I see a stand of alder completely wiped out by beaver activity or a flat of native grasses and sedges plowed through and eaten by Canadian Geese. A mouse writhing in the talons of an owl about does me in.

There is a part of me that wants to step in, insert control. “Stop that”! “Play fair”! “Leave that alone”! But I know from observation that we don’t do a very good job of trying to redirect or control natural forces. So, I suppose for now, I’ll accept nature’s method and do my best to not impact the path. I’ll observe what seems like record numbers of nesting Canadian Geese and fewer numbers of Great Blue Heron and while I might think that a poor development for North Creek Park wetland, I’ll keep still and see what nature might unfold over time.

Still, should you see me on the boardwalk with my hands over my eyes and sporting an anguished look…know that I’m just blocking out the queasy parts!

Don't Mess with Mom

It’s a story my children love to tell, the time when their normally gentle, mild mannered mother grabbed a young man by the collar and threw him up against the brick wall of their elementary school gymnasium. It happened almost 12 years ago, but my adult children still get a sparkle in their eye when they tease me about the incident. An older high school student had come onto the school grounds and was roughly shoving some of the young girls as they waited for the bus. I asked him to stop, but it only elevated the situation and his belligerence and threatening behavior sprung something in me that unleashed a mother-bear response. In a pure mode of reflexive action, I grabbed the young fellow by the scruff of his shirt and had him up fast to the brick wall. I stood on tip-toes to get as close as I could to his startled face and said something to the effect of, “THAT BEHAVIOR IS NOT APPROPRIATE AROUND HERE. YOU NEED TO LEAVE!”

I was reminded of the scene the other day when I was birding. I had stepped off the boardwalk to walk a dike that runs along the north side of North Creek Park wetland area. The dike provides protection from flooding to a number of homes in the area and during the winter it provides a great birding spot with access to viewing the ponds at the northwest corner. A few days ago I noticed some waterfowl in the back corner and decided to take the short dike walk and get a closer look. As I walked along the dike, I absently made note of the killdeer in the north barnyard field. Intent on the back ponds, it didn’t really register that the killdeer were growing more and more frantic until one of them finally jumped up onto the dike, positioned itself about six feet in front of me and began screaming in my direction. In my mind I could imagine her tiny toes grasping at my shirt collar and her cries became very clear, “That behavior is not appropriate around here. You need to leave!” Fully chastised, I retraced my steps and vowed to keep clear of the nesting areas for the next several weeks.

I would suggest the following two take-home messages, don’t mess with mom and for now be sensitive to the nesting birds as you travel through North Creek Park wetlands.

THE BIRD WHISPERER

As a young mother in the eighties, I was often confronted with a popular idea from the time period, that women could have it all. A career, a perfect home, a family and all it took was managing “quality” time in each fraction of your life. Yet, special moments can be elusive, rarely programmed and even the most careful of planning can’t insure quality time. No, it just happens, whether with family or an experience at work or even birding, quality time drops in like a special delivery. And so it was last Thursday; unplanned, unexpected, a quality moment with a delightful companion.

I was walking south to north on the boardwalk, quietly checking off the usual players…marsh wren, red-winged blackbird, tree swallow, Rufus hummingbird, when a bright and friendly lady caught up with me on the trail. I asked if she had noticed the hummingbird and quickly learned that she too was a birder and quite familiar with the solitary hummer that had been staked out in the willow for the last few weeks. For the rest of the way we walked and shared stories of our birding experiences. But her stories had a common thread, a connection with the bird community that I knew I didn’t have. She told of a hawk that grabbed at her hat and an owl that always seemed to seek her out when she hiked the woods through Mill Creek. Birds became relaxed and comforted around her and I quickly began to think of her as the “bird whisperer”, because she shyly confided that she felt many of her unique experiences with birds were a result of her talking to them. She showed me her picture from just a few days earlier of the bald eagle obliterating this year’s hope for a new crop of herons. We bemoaned the loss and moved on to discuss the changes we’d seen in goose and duck populations. The end of the trail came much too quickly and at least on my part, I hoped our paths would cross again.

Visiting the North Creek Park wetlands, I always hope to discover something new, something delightful. Until last Thursday, I expected this to come from the natural environment, a novel bird, something new in bloom, a glimpse of a small critter, but I was reminded that, even with the negative impact of our presence, humans too can be remarkable.

Over the next few weeks and months, as I visit North Creek Park and share my birding experiences, I hope to have many quality moments; many with the birds who happen on the landscape, but perhaps now I will be more attuned to fellow birders as well. If you see me on the boardwalk, stop and share a special sighting or birding story; I will consider it quality time, well spent.