Cranes in Love: Part 2

Such a vixon! Two cranes are on the knoll between our parking spot and Blacktail Ponds. One chases the other off the knoll. The interloper flies to the far side of the pond while the chaser swings around and returns to the knoll. That is when we realize the crane doing the chasing is a female and there is a third crane in the area. Lots of ‘churring’ (a deep vocalization) as this crane comes out of the bushes.

The female (who did the chasing) drops her wings in front of the male.



She bows forward as he climbs onto her back, neatly steadying himself by wrapping his long toes around the forward edge of her wings. One tail twists to the left while the other twists to the right. The two copulate.


Afterwards she rouses....

.... and he bows.

Cranes in Love: Part I

It is our understanding most pairing between sandhill cranes takes place before the pairs reach their nesting grounds. Cranes gather in huge groups during migration and are well known for their early morning dance. Once paired, the cranes usually remain bonded until the death of one.

During our many springs in Yellowstone we’ve only see glimpses of dancing; that is until today. I think the cranes we usually see have already established their pair bond. Today we were royally treated. The few sketches I drew at the time are clumsy … but Dale got a wonderful series of far off photos for me to draw from.

These drawings show what we saw better than words can tell. At the time the deep portions of Blacktail Ponds were still frozen, but the shallow areas had thawed.

First the smaller, probably the female, struts off across the ice, head held high. The Male doesn’t follow, so she comes back and fetches him.


Both cranes walk over to a patch of long bulrushes and beginning tossing broken stems. The nest site isn’t established yet. It all seems rather experimental at this point.

After tossing stems for awhile the pair walk to the far side of the pond where the shallow water has thawed. Busy foraging in the damp earth. I got busy watching ducks and forgot about them. Suddenly we realize one crane is bowing and jumping in front of the other.

It took a little doing, but soon both cranes are kicking up their heels. Wings flap, water splashes. Their wild bugling fills the valley of Blacktail Ponds.

…. And the finale’.

The Canyon Wolves

April 14, 2010: Yellowstone National Park

We’re told wolf sightings will be few and far between this spring. The northern range population is down to only 17 plus 3 Canyon Pack wolves at Mammoth. That is virtually the same number of wolves that were in the northern range during the first year of the wolf reintroduction, only then there were lots of elk in the Lamar Valley and wolves were seen on a regular basis. Now elk are fewer and smarter. They spend much less time down on the valley floor. The Canyon Pack will presumably soon return to the center of the park to den as they did last year.

Right out of Mammoth we see a small cluster of elk on a knoll. Others nearby are grazing but these appear to be on alert – typical behavior when a bear or wolf is nearby. We turn around for another pass by. Luck is with us. First a large collared black wolf come up to the road from the river side and trots down the road away from us. He heads higher and is soon joined by a beautifully marked grey who has also come up from the river valley. This would be the alpha male and the beta male of the three member Canyon Pack.



April 15, 2010

Hard frost last night. Still and almost cloudless this morning. Frost sparkles on dried grasses when we head east from Mammoth.

The two males of the Canyon Pack sleep on a sunny, rocky knoll south of the road. A handful of magpies keep them company. A meadowlark’s sweet tune carries far in the still morning air. Fresh snow is shiny bright on Bunsen Butte. The resting wolves give me an opportunity to draw through my spotting scope.

These are two very laid back wolves. The grey hardly budges. The black alpha stays more aware of his surroundings. For the first hour his head is usually up and he changes positions a couple of times. When the grey finally stands to stretch and pee I can see he has a full belly. It is a lightly marked grey. The black is very grizzled around his muzzle. A little after 10 AM the two stand up and stroll over the rise and out of sight.



It is a little after four PM and we are heading back to Gardiner. As we near Mammoth I comment I should check every knoll to look for a wolf. Sure enough. I spot the black alpha male and have Dale turn around. He is awfully far away, but we park anyway. The wolf stands, and starts down-slope towards us. I think he is heading towards the river where the pack probably has a kill. We park and watch.

The wolf is out of sight for a couple of minutes, but then all three Canyon members cross the road in front of us. The Black alpha male is first, and farthest away. Then comes the beautifully marked Beta male and finally the almost white alpha female– a lovely wolf. Her big belly tells us she is very pregnant. The last two cross the road just a few feet ahead of us. So close!

High and Wild

Yellowstone National Park, April 14, 2010

Introduction: Barronette Peak is in the far NE corner of Yellowstone. According to my topo map the road where I stood is at an altitude of a little over 7000 feet, and Barronette’s Peak rises to over 10,000 feet. This face of the mountain is very steep, one of the wildest places I can think of. We go there to ‘spot’ for Mountain Goats (search for them with a telescope) and once we even saw a wolverine up there.

Midday: High above me Barronette Peak’s snow cornices shine brilliant white against a deep blue sky. Snow blows off the ridge line and up into the sky. It’s a wild, inaccessible spot. I’m trying to photograph a spiral of wind blown snow rising above the ridgeline when I spot two specks – two golden eagles soar along the edge of the updraft. They soar even higher, one to the left and one to the right. I can only track one. Up, up it flies and then tucks its wings and drops like a stone in front of the steep face of Barronette. Open wings carry it back up into the blue sky. Another tuck and swoop. This time the uplift carries the eagle around to the backside of the mountain’s highest point. The eagles are so tiny I would never have spotted them with my naked eye. I found them in my telephoto lens and then switched to binoculars, giving me a peek into their private lives from very far away.

I’ve actually drawn the eagle far larger than I saw it in real life … It would take up about one pixel if I drew it as I saw it from over half a mile away.

Spatzie Follow-up

Debbie Dreshler’s comment on my calling my Spatzie an English Sparrow sent me diving into my books. … and rather dates me. I’m vindicated in that the book, Audubon Bird Guide to Eastern Land Birds by Richard Pough, signed by Pough and inscribed to me by my ornithologist parents, Frederick and Frances Hamerstrom, in 1953 only refers to my Spatzies as English Sparrows. After all, that is where they probably came from! According to Wickipedia 50 pairs were released in New York’s Central Park around 1852.

Even my 1947 Peterson guide calls them by both names. I probably didn’t ask him about it when I went on a bird hike with him to see Kirkland warblers a year or two after my edition of his book was published. I was about six years old at the time.
In all honesty I must admit it has been over 50 years since English Sparrow has been the preferred name (in my books), so I should switch to House Sparrow. What a ho hum name for such a ball of energy!

As for ‘Spatzie,’ I probably got that term from my parents too, since they seldom acknowledged any bird smaller than a robin, but were experts on grouse and raptors. I did find ‘Spatzie’ used as a collquial name in the literature.

Bird experts switching names have long been an unnecessary complication in my life! I’ll always think of them as Spatzies in my heart, but maybe I’ll grow up and start calling them House Sparrows when I want someone to know what I’m talking about. Some recent books don’t even mention English Sparrows. It is a good thing that when I'm part of the Audubon Christmas count I only have to write in numbers, not the names of the birds.

Spatzies

Hatton Coulee, Western Washington—April 12, 2010:

We’ve been driving through the open, rolling plains of western Washington on our way to Yellowstone National Park. Miles and miles of sparse grass, sage, and huge fields, wheat fields I think. The furrows are sculpted against the grain of downward slopes. Hatton Coulee Rest Area is an oasis of planted trees. The English sparrows love this spot. Each year I look forward to a quick visit with them, the Spatzies.

The air is full of cheerful chitter. Spatzies are everywhere; in the shrubbery, on the parking lot and lawns, flying back from a brief foray to a nearby field, and most of all, setting up housekeeping in the straight row of 14 Lombardy poplars. It is the only place I’ve found where English Sparrows build nests in trees. English sparrows are famous for usurping all available nest boxes put out for bluebirds, swallows, etc. Reams have been written to help humans build birdhouses that foil the attempts of the English Sparrows. They also are adapt and squeezing into nooks and crannies of our buildings. It is hard to believe these bundles of exuberance are a pest in most places -- aggressive, unwanted little beasties. I, too, am unhappy when they throw out bluebird eggs and take over my chickadee nest box.

I’m happy to see them here. They build their own dwellings and clean up on scraps left by travelers. Their houses are quite the surprise. They look like prickly soccer balls, made out of small twigs and stiff stems and have a tidy little entrance hole. The trees host at least a dozen soccer balls and more on the way. It is a busy time of year for the Spatzies. I’d be disappointed if they went missing from here.

5:10 PM: We’re somewhere east of Missoula. Dale is singing a medley of Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. I’m finally looking forward rather than worrying about what we forgot. The last week at home got really hectic. Three unexpected inhalers of time popped up; then we realized we were planning to take more stuff than the RAV is supposed to carry. We spent a lot of time weighing, and figuring out what not to take. I think I packed my lists of what to take and what to do … and by then I was so tired I didn’t care. Life is a bit of a mystery at the moment.

Yellowstone Introduction

I’m back! I haven’t lost interest in posting, but I have been away from the internet. For the past seven weeks I have mostly been in Yellowstone and chose to disconnect and totally focus on actually being there. This is a quick introduction for a whole series of postings which will probably take as long to get posted as it took to gather the material.

For several springs Dale and I spend half of April and most of May in Yellowstone. Initially we went in May and camped, but then we found a little place to rent during the off season and are able to go even earlier. When we arrive, winter is just letting go and only one half of one campground is open. When we leave, the wild flowers are starting to bloom, the aspen are just leafing out, and visitors are beginning to arrive in earnest.

Some might think we are in a rut. Year after year we look forward to getting back to Yellowstone, and day after day we get up early and eat peanut butter on toast and hard boiled eggs as we drive into the park. The goal is to get up at 5, but dreary skies may keep us in bed a little longer. A day of snow or rain is usually welcome. There is never enough time for editing photos, painting, laundry, etc. This year we had two really warm days the first week. We were in a funk. Warm already! Silly me bought a pair of sandals and never needed them after that. In fact it took until the very last day before I was comfortable without at least two shirts and I about wore out my jacket. My face and hands are wonderfully tanned, and everything else is lily white.

While in the park we watch, we photograph, we wander and we watch some more. I also paint/sketch and write. Most people drive a lot of miles every day, but we tend to stay put more than anyone I know.

Most of the art in the following postings was at least started in the car (too cold to work outside for virtually all of the trip). On bad weather days I use my laptop to work from the photos we just took, or finish up pieces I started in the car.

I found way more time for art than I have in years past … and the more I painted, the more I wanted to do. Part of the joy of the art is finding a new technique that fits me. Shortly before we left for Yellowstone I bought a fountain pen to sketch with. The fountain pen has a little thicker nib than my dip pens and pigma pens and so forces me sketch more loosely. It also has a wonderful characteristic in that with just a little water added after the pen lines are drawn, I can get soft grey values …. Or I can add color instead of water. Most, but not all of the sketches will be done with this pen. Both sketches in this post are done with the pen.

Living with a fountain pen and changing altitude every day poses a problem. Pens love to bleed when one goes higher. The Yellowstone firetower observer even told me he has to open his toothpaste tube before going to his tower on Mt. Washburn. I solved my pen problem by making a little medicine bag to hang around my neck. With the nib always in an upright position when we were driving, I didn’t have any pen problems …. Only with my bottle of ink which I forgot to store in an upright position! Yuck!