A Northwoods Almanac for 10/4/19

A Northwoods Almanac for Oct. 4-17, 2019  by John Bates

Loon Parents and Adopted Mallard Chick Update

I was recently asked what had happened to the mallard chick that was raised this summer by a loon pair in Oneida County. I contacted Linda Grenzer, who has been keeping an eye on this very rare adoption, and this is what she wrote back: “On 8/18, I was on the lake in the evening. For the first 45 minutes, the 42-acre lake was vacant of any loon or duck. Then the unbanded female landed and started wailing on and off for about 15 minutes. I then heard a duck quacking behind me, and here the duckling was making a beeline to Mom. I’m not sure if the duckling landed or was hiding in the heavy vegetation, but it joined Mom the rest of the evening I was there. It actually tucked its head in its back and napped for about a half an hour in the center of the lake as Mom stood guard next to it.                                                                                                              
"The home owner saw them on and off after that. She did see the duck take flight and circle the lake a couple of times, but always landed back by mom and dad. The homeowner told me other ducks flew in, but this duckling never went by them.  On 9/8, the homeowner had told me she had not seen the duck or loons for over a week on her lake.

“So, I’m not sure if the duckling is alone or with one or both parents on another lake. No one ever observed this duckling close to another loon other than mom and dad . . . The attached picture is the last time in early August that I captured the female feeding the full-grown duckling a fish.” 

So, the story continues with this autumn’s conclusion yet to be written. The adult loons will begin their migration soon, if they haven’t already, leaving the mallard chick to determine its own lot. The loons will almost certainly migrate to the Gulf of Mexico, while mallards in northern Wisconsin are DNA-imprinted to wait to migrate until the lakes are near freezing, and then fly a relatively short distance to wherever open water beckons, or perhaps on to the Mississippi River. A few may even remain the winter if a water source stays open and food is readily available. 

Loons and Fishing Lures – Time for This to End

Linda and Kevin Grenzer also sent me an email with attached photos taken by Marge Gibson at REGI (Raptor Education Group in Antigo) of a juvenile loon chick that was wrapped in fishing line. Linda and Kevin had captured the loon the previous evening in Eagle River. The good news is that Marge has worked her magic, and the loon appears to be recovering well. Nevertheless, this is not an isolated incident. Loons with lures protruding from their mouths and entwined in fishing line are not an uncommon story. Linda and Kevin are often tasked with recovering these loons, and with the loons in their hands, they therefore see the often gruesome impacts. Here’s what they want you to know:

“This time of year juvenile loons are looking for an easy meal as they are learning to forage for themselves. The public needs to help prevent such entanglements by fishing responsibly . . . do not fish near loons. And dispose of line properly, not leaving monofilament line in lakes or on shore. If you accidentally hook a loon try to land it, call REGI (715-623-4015). Do not cut the line and let it go . . . it is a death sentence for this loon. Also, we need the public to let us know if they see an entangled loon; report this to REGI, so the loon can be helped.”

On a Lighter Note, Autumn Spaceships 

In October, most of the plant world is shutting down ahead of a long winter, but simultaneously, many are also seeking new worlds by sending out their seeds. To help the seeds travel as far as possible, plants utilize an amazing array of strategies. Some put a final gift wrap over the seeds, something bright, colorful, and sweet-tasting to encourage transport by way of digestive systems – think of a black cherry. Other plants like thistle choose to make their seeds sticky or bristly in order to hitch a ride to another town. Some create an aerodynamic appendage, like a milkweed’s silk parachute or a sugar maple’s winged helicopter. Still others coat their seeds in a waterproof jacket that acts like a PFD, floating the embryo down rivers to rest on a shoreline. 

Once in their new world, the seeds have sensors that will respond to the right combination of temperature, light, oxygen and moisture to initiate growth. If the conditions aren’t perfect, the seeds may not germinate for years until their sensors detect the right conditions. The record for patience may be ten thousand-year-old lupine seeds which were found in 1954 and then placed on wet filter paper where six seeds germinated within 48 hours. One plant, upon reaching 11 months of age, and after 10,000 years of dormancy, then bloomed. 

Timing is everything in the dispersal of seeds. Sugar maples drop their samaras, their helicopter seeds, right before they drop their leaves to help germination and deter predators.

Red oaks have evolved a similar strategy, typically shedding their acorns just before dropping most of their leaves. Their acorns benefit from the cover of newly fallen leaves, which ensures that some acorns will be hidden from predators, while others will be found and dispersed by squirrels and chipmunks intent on hiding their winter stores. 

Banner years for acorns come every three or four years. One researcher tracked 15,000 acorns that were dropped by one prolific tree. Deer, squirrels, and other animals ate 83 percent of them; 6 percent were attacked by weevils and insect larvae; and about 10 percent were naturally imperfect and failed to germinate. Less than 1 percent actually sprouted, and over half of those died as seedlings. Fortunately, only one acorn needs to survive to replace the adult tree above it. 

Whatever the strategy employed, it’s clear that NASA couldn’t have designed better spaceships than the seeds of most plants.

Riding the Wind

            Silky milkweed seeds typically burst from their pods sometime in late September and into October. The long seedpods, pointy and warty on the outside, conceal a treasure chest of hundreds of seeds, each one attached to a tuft of silvery white hairs. The slightest breeze lifts them off on a flight that will last as long as the wind holds out, though the seed will often detach and drop from its silky glider after only a few hundred yards.

            Surprisingly, milkweeds produce only about four seedpods per plant–a very low number given that an average plant has eight clusters of flowers with seventy-five flowers per cluster. Botanists don’t know why they are so unsuccessful in producing seeds, but if every flower produced a seedpod, that would be 600 seedpods per plant multiplied by hundreds of seeds in a pod! 

Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park

            Mary and I hiked several trails in the Porkies last week. Over the years, one of our favorite trails has been the East Presque Isle River Trail, in large part because of the enormous white pine that one comes to quickly, and which had certainly lived for centuries before it snapped off two summers ago. We had measured the diameter at 49 inches (diameter at breast height) in previous years, but unfortunately, we had no way to measure its height. What’s intriguing about its demise is that it was hollow, and while the inside of the tree was charred, the outside was unscathed. If this was due to natural forces, the only theory we can come up with is that the tree was hit by lightning. However, it’s also possible that some yahoo(s) found a hole in the outer bark leading to the hollow core and thought it would be just great to stuff some flaming material through the hole and see what happened. 

            Who knows? I’m sticking with the lightning theory simply because it honors this grandmother tree that could well have been four centuries old. I’d like to think that we humans felt a deep wonder and reverence for this tree, and not an astonishing disrespect.  

            The estimated old-growth hemlock-hardwood forest left in the upper Midwest is only 72,000 acres – about 0.2 percent of what was here historically. Nearly half of that is in the Porkies, the only ecosystem-sized old-growth forest we have left. 

            A good portion of the Porkies was cut; of its current 60,000 acres, only 35,000 are classified as old-growth. Aldo Leopold, among many others, was instrumental in saving what was left during WW2 when it was about to be further cleared for the war effort. He wrote in his essay “The Last Stand”: “[The Porcupines] portray a chapter in national history which we should not be allowed to forget. When we abolish the last sample of the Great Uncut, we are, in a sense, burning books. I am convinced that most Americans of the new generation have no idea what a decent forest looks like. The only ways to tell them is to show them. To preserve a remnant of decent forest for public education is surely a proper function of government . . . I would like to see the remnant of uncut timber in and around the Porcupines (about 100,00 acres) acquired and preserved as an act of national contrition, as the visible reminder of an unsolved problem, and as an education exhibit . . . The mere existence of such a token-forest might hasten the day when the green robe again extends over the Lake States, and when the cutting and using of mature timber becomes an act of normal land-cropping, rather than an act of land-pillage.” 

Mushrooms!

bear's head tooth

tree ear

Rain and more rain has been the rule this summer and fall, and mushrooms continue to respond joyously. I’ve attached photos of four unusual looking ones: tree ear, bear’s head tooth, black trumpet, and crown-tipped coral.

crown-tipped coral

black trumpet

Sightings

            We have at least a dozen yellow-rumped warblers in our yard as I’m writing this (9/30), all taking bites of the crabapples and mountain ash berries that are prolific this year. Robins came in today as well, and are feasting on the mountain ash berries. I suspect the trees will be stripped in a few days, but we’ll see – it’s been a big year for mountain ashes. I also watched a red squirrel hanging upside down in one of our white spruce trees and nipping off spruce cones as fast as it could, creating a rain of cones to store in its winter pantry. 

Celestial Events

For planet viewing in October, look after dusk in the southwest for both Saturn and Jupiter. Venus will also appear in the southwest, but not until mid-month. Before dawn, look for Mars low in the southeast.

On 10/5, look for Saturn just above the first quarter moon. The peak Draconid meteor shower occurs in the predawn on 10/8. On 10/13, the full moon, variously known as the Hunter’s Moon, the Changing Season Moon, and the Falling Leaves Moon, will occur. And by 10/14, we’re down to 11 hours of daylight.

Thought for the Week

            “The cost of a solar panel has dropped 90 percent in the last decade. The cheapest, easiest way to produce electricity around the world now is with sun and wind . . . There’s no long-term future for the fossil-fuel industry . . . Fifty years from now we’re definitely going to run this world on sun and wind. The question is: Can we make the transition fast enough to avoid a broken world?” – Bill McKibben

Please share your outdoor sightings and thoughts: call 715-476-2828, e-mail at manitowish@centurytel.net, snail-mail at 4245N State Highway 47, Mercer, WI, or see my blog at www.manitowishriver.blogspot.com