Bird Feeder Lessons

by Carl Strang

Except for my yard, my neighborhood contains mainly lawns and some foundation shrubs, along with the small trees planted to replace the near monoculture of ashes killed by emerald ash borers. My own plantings had grown to the point where I thought they might provide enough cover to make it worthwhile to put out bird feeders.

I hung a tube feeder above a platform feeder set on the ground. Through most of the winter, safflower seeds were the main fare.

One day I saw a meadow vole popping out from the snow to grab one seed at a time from the platform.

Its main residence appeared to be beneath the inverted water garden container, but underneath the platform feeder it also had excavated a network of tunnels.

Most birds were infrequent visitors. The regulars were a small flock of mourning doves. They are not limited to small winter territories, and their longer distance patrols allow them to find scattered food sources. I hosted up to 20 of them in the early mornings, and 3 or so at dusk.

Eight or so of “the troops,” as I came to call them, are visible in this blurry photo through the kitchen window.

After the morning feed, they often rested a bit before moving on.

One dove that came at mid-day gave a demonstration of limited intelligence.

It happened to land inside the little decorative fence that surrounds the water garden. Reaching through the bars, it fed for a bit but then appeared to become frustrated.

The bird walked back and forth for a good ten minutes, sticking its head through various holes but unable to reach the seeds it wanted. It never figured out that all it had to do was go over the little fence and stand in the feeder to take all the seeds it wanted.

Eventually the dove decided to leave, and jumped up to perch on the fence before heading on its way.


St. James Farm Update

by Carl Strang

It has been a while since I have written about St. James Farm, where I volunteer as forest steward and monitor. There has not been a lot to report, in part because foot problems have limited my monitoring activity.

Going back to last fall, I noted that the patches of invasive goutweed where we dumped garlic mustard showed a difference. One patch, which had not been hit by herbicide in the spring, pushed its way through the mounds of wilting garlic mustard and was barely slowed.

Other patches like this one, which forest preserve district staff had sprayed earlier in the spring, appeared to be inhibited further by the dumps.

I noted that goutweed does not maintain winter rosettes, but withdraws nutrients into the roots and shuts down the leaves, growing new ones in the spring. This coming fall I plan to hit experimental patches of goutweed with herbicide, with the idea that I might find an optimal time when the poison, drawn down along with the conserved nutrients, will do the most damage to those invasive plants.

Through the winter I took series of monitoring walks twice a month. There was little that was new.

Predators took their tithe, in this case pulled feathers spoke of a male eastern bluebird caught by a raptor.

This buck was one of a group of three that occupied the western part of the forest through the winter.

Though I cut back on monitoring efforts, Wednesday morning restoration activity continued. Our focus through the winter consisted of cutting and stacking common buckthorn, then burning the piles.

Our earlier cutting accumulated 17 piles like this.

Burning them leaves relatively small scars, but the soil is sterilized. I will be interested in seeing what plants invade these little spaces.

Already we have built several new piles. There won’t be enough snow to allow any more burning now, but by next winter there will be plenty to torch.

My feet are under treatment, and I expect to return to full activity soon.


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