Blue Jay Way

The Neotropical birds that raised their young in Canada and in the northern United States have now logged many miles on their journey to warmer climates for the coming winter.  As their density decreases among the masses of migrating birds, a shift to species with a tolerance for the cooler winter weather of the temperate regions will be evident.

Though it is unusually warm for this late in September, the movement of diurnal migrants continues.  This morning at Conewago Falls, five Broad-winged Hawks (Buteo platypterus) lifted from the forested hills to the east, then crossed the river to continue a excursion to the southwest which will eventually lead them and thousands of others that passed through Pennsylvania this week to wintering habitat in South America.  Broad-winged Hawks often gather in large migrating groups which swarm in the rising air of thermal updrafts, then, after gaining substantial altitude, glide away to continue their trip.  These ever-growing assemblages from all over eastern North America funnel into coastal Texas where they make a turn to south around the Gulf of Mexico, then continue on toward the tropics.  In the coming weeks, a migration count at Corpus Christi in Texas could tally 100,000 or more Broad-winged Hawks in a single day as a large portion of the continental population passes by.  You can track their movement and that of other diurnal raptors as recorded at sites located all over North America by visiting hawkcount.org on the internet.  Check it out.  You’ll be glad you did.

Nearly all of the other migrants seen today have a much shorter flight ahead of them.  Red-bellied Woodpeckers (Melanerpes carolinus), Red-headed Woodpeckers (Melanerpes erythrocephalus), and Northern Flickers (Colaptes auratus) were on the move.  Migrating American Robins (Turdus migratorius) crossed the river early in the day, possibly leftovers from an overnight flight of this primarily nocturnal migrant.  The season’s first Great Black-backed Gulls (Larus marinus) arrived.  American Goldfinches are easily detected by their calls as they pass overhead.  Look carefully at the goldfinches visiting your feeder, the birds of summer are probably gone and are being replaced by migrants currently passing through.

By far, the most conspicuous migrant today was the Blue Jay.  Hundreds were seen as they filtered out of the hardwood forests of the diabase ridge to cautiously cross the river and continue to the southwest.  Groups of five to fifty birds would noisily congregate in trees along the river’s edge, then begin flying across the falls.  Many wary jays abandoned their small crossing parties and turned back.  Soon, they would try the trip again in a larger flock.

Sensing that they are being watched, Blue Jays are hesitant to fly across the narrow Susquehanna at Conewago Falls without first assembling into a flock.  The local constabulary often penalizes those who freelance and do not move in orderly groups.

A look at this morning’s count reveals few Neotropical migrants.  With the exception of the Broad-winged Hawks and warblers, the migratory species seen today will winter in a sub-tropical temperate climate, primarily in the southern United States, but often as far north as the lower Susquehanna River valley.  The individual birds observed today will mostly continue to a winter home a bit further south.  Those that will winter in the area of Conewago Falls will arrive in October and later.

The Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodius) can be found year-round at Conewago Falls, provided there is open water and adequate food.  Migrants from breeding colonies to the north will soon supplement the local population.
The Double-crested Cormorant (Phalacrocorax auritus) is a summer resident at Conewago Falls.  Migration of the local population and of those from further north will soon begin.  All will be gone by the time ice forms on the river.  Cormorants are often seen drying their feathers in sunlight following a series of feeding dives.

The long-distance migrating insect so beloved among butterfly enthusiasts shows signs of improving numbers.  Today, more than two dozen Monarchs were seen crossing the falls and slowly flapping and gliding their way to Mexico.

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Living in the Shadows

They get a touch of it here, and a sparkle or two there.  Maybe, for a couple of hours each day, the glorious life-giving glow of the sun finds an opening in the canopy to warm and nourish their leaves, then the rays of light creep away across the forest floor, and it’s shade for the remainder of the day.

The flowering plants which thrive in the understory of the Riparian Woodlands often escape much notice.  They gather only a fraction of the daylight collected by species growing in full exposure to the sun.  Yet, by season’s end, many produce showy flowers or nourishing fruits of great import to wildlife.  While light may be sparingly rationed through the leaves of the tall trees overhead, moisture is nearly always assured in the damp soils of the riverside forest.  For these plants, growth is slow, but continuous.  And now, it’s show time.

So let’s take a late-summer stroll through the Riparian Woodlands of Conewago Falls, minus the face full of cobwebs, and have a look at some of the strikingly beautiful plants found living in the shadows.

Oxeye (Heliopsis helianthoides) is common on the interior and along the edges of Riparian Woodland.  Specimens in deep shade flower less profusely and average less than half the height of the five feet tall inhabitants of edge environs.
Pale Touch-Me-Not (Impatiens pallida) is one of two species of native Impatiens found in the river floodplain.  Both are known as Jewelweed.  The stems and leaves of the indigenous Impatiens retain a great quantity of water, so life in filtered sunlight is essential to prevent desiccation.  Contrary to popular folklore, extracts of Jewelweed plants are not effective treatments of Poison Ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) contact dermatitis.
Spotted Touch-Me-Not (Impatiens capensis) is typically found in wetter soil than I. pallida.  Both Jewelweeds develop popping capsules which help to distribute the seeds of these annual wildflowers.  “Touch Me Not”, or you’ll be wearing tiny seeds.
Green-headed Coneflower (Rudbeckia laciniata) grows to heights of eight feet in full sun, hence its alternate common name, Tall Coneflower.  In deep shade, it may not exceed two feet in height.  Floodplains are the prime domain of this perennial.
Wingstem (Verbesina alternifolia) normally flowers no earlier than late August.  The bases of the leaves are continued onto the stem of the plant to form wings which extend downward along its length.  This wildflower tolerates shade, but flowers more profusely along the woodland edge.
Great Lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica), or Great Blue Lobelia, is a magnificent wetland and moist woodland wildflower, usually attaining three feet in height and adorned with a plant-topping spike of blossoms.  Invasive Japanese Stiltgrass (Microstegium vimineum) can be seen here competing with this plant, resulting in a shorter, less productive Lobelia.  Stiltgrass was not found in the Susquehanna River floodplain at Conewago Falls until sometime after 1997.  It has spread to all areas of woodland shade, its tiny seeds being blown and translocated along roads, mowed lots, trails, and streams to quickly colonize and overtake new ground.
American Bladdernut (Staphylea trifolia), a shrub of shaded woods, develops inflated capsules which easily float away during high water to distribute the seeds contained inside.
Buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) is a shrub of wet soils which produces a strange spherical flower, followed by this globular seed cluster.
Common Pawpaw (Asimina triloba) is a colony-forming small tree which produces a fleshy fruit.  It is the host plant for the caterpillars of the Zebra Swallowtail.  The plant and the butterfly approach the northern limit of their geographic range at Conewago Falls.
Common Spicebush (Lindera benzoin) is a widespread understory shrub in wet floodplain soils.  It is the host plant for the caterpillars of the Spicebush Swallowtail (Papilio troilus).
Sweet Autumn Virgin’s Bower (Clematis terniflora) is an escape from cultivation which has recently naturalized in the edge areas of the Conewago Falls Riparian Woodlands.  This vine is very showy when flowering and producing seed, but can be detrimental to some of the understory shrubs upon which it tends to climb.

SOURCES

Long, David; Ballentine, Noel H.; and Marks, James G., Jr.  1997.  Treatment of Poison Ivy/Oak Allergic Contact Dermatitis With an Extract of Jewelweed.  American Journal of Contact Dermatitis.  8(3): pp. 150-153.

Newcomb, Lawrence.  1977.  Newcomb’s Wildflower Guide.  Little, Brown and Company.  Boston, Massachusetts.

Yellowlegs for Breakfast

A few nocturnal migrants flew through the moonlit night to arrive at Conewago Falls for a sunrise showing this morning.  A dozen warblers were in the treetops and a Wood Thrush (Hylocichla mustelina) chattered away in the understory of the Riparian Woodlands.  Three species of shorebirds were in the falls and on the Pothole Rocks: Least Sandpiper (Calidris minutilla), Lesser Yellowlegs (Tringa flavipes), and Greater Yellowlegs (Tringa melanoleuca).

A Greater Yellowlegs (right) and two Lesser Yellowlegs sandpipers dropped by for breakfast.

The diurnal migration was highlighted by a Merlin (Falco columbarius), an Osprey, and a Bald Eagle, each flying down the river.  Most of the other birds in the falls seemed content to linger and feed.  There’s no need to hurry folks, only trouble lurks down there in paradise at the moment.

A light to moderate flight of nocturnal migrants in the eastern United States is displayed on NOAA National Weather Service NEXRAD radar at 4:58 AM EDT.  The eye of Hurricane Irma can be seen approaching the Florida Keys.  (NOAA/National Weather Service image)
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Piles of Green Tape

A couple of inches of rain this week caused a small increase in the flow of the river, just a burp, nothing major.  This higher water coincided with some breezy days that kicked up some chop on the open waters of the Susquehanna upstream of Conewago Falls.  Apparently it was just enough turbulence to uproot some aquatic plants and send them floating into the falls.

Piled against and upon the upstream side of many of the Pothole Rocks were thousands of two to three feet-long flat ribbon-like opaque green leaves of Tapegrass, also called Wild Celery, but better known as American Eelgrass (Vallisneria americana).  Some leaves were still attached to a short set of clustered roots.  It appears that most of the plants broke free from creeping rootstock along the edge of one of this species’ spreading masses which happened to thrive during the second half of the summer.  You’ll recall that persistent high water through much of the growing season kept aquatic plants beneath a blanket of muddy current.  The American Eelgrass colonies from which these specimens originated must have grown vigorously during the favorable conditions in the month of August.  A few plants bore the long thread-like pistillate flower stems with a fruit cluster still intact.  During the recent few weeks, there have been mats of American Eelgrass visible, the tops of their leaves floating on the shallow river surface, near the east and west shorelines of the Susquehanna where it begins its pass through the Gettysburg Basin near the Pennsylvania Turnpike bridge at Highspire.  This location is a probable source of the plants found in the falls today.

Uprooted American Eelgrass floating into the Pothole Rocks under the power of a north wind.  Note the white thread-like pistillate flower stem to the left and the small rooted specimen to the upper right.  The latter is likely a plant from the creeping rootstock on the edge of a colony.  As a native aquatic species, American Eelgrass is a critical link in the Susquehanna River and Chesapeake Bay food chain.  Its decimation by pollution during the twentieth century led to migration pattern alterations and severe population losses for the Canvasback (Aythya valisineria) duck.
American Eelgrass, a very small specimen, found growing in a low-lying Pothole Rock alongside the accumulations of freshly arriving material from upstream.  Note that the creeping rootstock has leaves growing from at least three nodes on this plant.  Eelgrass dislocations are regular occurrences which sometimes begin new colonies, like the small one seen here in this Diabase Pothole Rock Microhabitat.

The cool breeze from the north was a perfect fit for today’s migration count.  Nocturnal migrants settling down for the day in the Riparian Woodlands at sunrise included more than a dozen warblers and some Gray Catbirds (Dumetella carolinensis).  Diurnal migration was underway shortly thereafter.

A moderate flight of nocturnal migrants is indicated around NEXRAD sites in the northeastern states at 3:18 AM EDT.  The outer rain bands of Hurricane Irma can be seen approaching the Florida Keys as the storm closes in on the peninsula.  (NOAA/National Weather Service image)

Four Bald Eagles were counted as migrants this morning.  Based on plumage, two were first-year eagles (Juvenile) seen up high and flying the river downstream, one was a second-year bird (Basic I) with a jagged-looking wing molt, and a third was probably a fourth year (Basic III) eagle looking much like an adult with the exception of a black terminal band on the tail.  These birds were the only ones which could safely be differentiated from the seven or more Bald Eagles of varying ages found within the past few weeks to be lingering at Conewago Falls.  There were as many as a dozen eagles which appeared to be moving through the falls area that may have been migrating, but the four counted were the only ones readily separable from the locals.

Red-tailed Hawks (Buteo jamaicensis) were observed riding the wind to journey not on a course following the river, but flying across it and riding the updraft on the York Haven Diabase ridge from northeast to southwest.

Bank Swallows (Riparia riparia) seem to have moved on.  None were discovered among the swarms of other species today.

Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, Caspian Terns, Cedar Waxwings (Bombycilla cedrorum), and Chimney Swifts (Chaetura pelagica) were migrating today, as were Monarch butterflies.

Not migrating, but always fun to have around, all four wise guys were here today.  I’m referring to the four members of the Corvid family regularly found in the Mid-Atlantic states: Blue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata), American Crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos), Fish Crow (Corvus ossifragus), and Common Raven (Corvus corax).

It looks like a big Blue Jay, but it’s not.  This Belted Kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon) takes a break after flying around the falls trying to shake a marauding Ruby-throated Hummingbird off its tail.
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SOURCES

Klots, Elsie B.  1966.  The New Field Book of Freshwater Life.  G. P. Putnam’s Sons.  New York, NY.

Strangers In The Night

We all know that birds (and many other animals) migrate.  It’s a survival phenomenon which, above all, allows them to utilize their mobility to translocate to a climate which provides an advantage for obtaining food, enduring seasonal weather, and raising offspring.

In the northern hemisphere, most migratory birds fly north in the spring to latitudes with progressively greater hours of daylight to breed, nest, and provide for their young.  In the southern hemisphere there are similar movements, these to the south during their spring (our autumn).  The goal is the same, procreation, though the landmass offering sustenance for species other than seabirds is limited “down under”.  Interestingly, there are some seabirds that breed in the southern hemisphere during our winter and spend our summer (their winter) feeding on the abundant food sources of the northern oceans.

Each autumn, migratory breeding birds leave their nesting grounds as the hours of sunlight slowly recede with each passing day.  They fly to lower latitudes where the nights aren’t so long and the climate is less brutal.  There, they pass their winter season.

Food supply, weather, the start/finish of the nesting cycle, and other factors motivate some birds to begin their spring and autumn journeys.  But overall, the hours of daylight and the angle of the sun prompt most species to get going.

But what happens after birds begin their trips to favorable habitats?  Do they follow true north and south routes?  Do they fly continuously, day and night?  Do they ease their way from point to point, stopping to feed along the way?  Do they all migrate in flocks?  Well, the tactics of migration differ widely from bird species to species, from population to population, and sometimes from individual to individual.  The variables encountered when examining the dynamics of bird migration are seemingly endless, but fascinatingly so.  Bird migration is well-studied, but most of its intricacies and details remain a mystery.

Consider for a moment that just 10,000 years ago, an Ice Age was coming to an end, with the southernmost edge of the most recent glaciers already withdrawn into present-day Canada from points as near as the upper Susquehanna River watershed.  Back then, the birds migrating to the lower portion of the drainage basin each spring probably weren’t forest-dwelling tropical warblers, orioles, and other songbirds.  The migratory birds that nested in the lower Susquehanna River valley tens of millennia ago were probably those species found nesting today in taiga and tundra much closer to the Arctic Circle.  And the ancestors of most of the tropical migrants that nest here now surely spent their entire lives much closer to the Equator, finding no advantage by journeying to the frigid Susquehanna valley to nest.  It’s safe to say that since those times, and probably prior to them, migration patterns have been in a state of flux.

During the intervening years since the great ice sheets, birds have been able to adapt to the shifts in their environment on a gradual basis, often using their unmatched mobility to exploit new opportunities.  Migration patterns change slowly, but continuously, resulting in differences that can be substantial over time.  If the natural transformations of habitat and climate have kept bird migration evolving, then man’s impact on the planet shows great potential to expedite future changes, for better or worse.

Now, let’s look at two different bird migration strategies, that of day-fliers or diurnal migrants, and that of night-fliers, the nocturnal migrants.

Diurnal migrants are the most familiar to people who notice birds on the move.  The majority of these species have one thing in common, some form of defense to lessen the threat of becoming the victim of a predator while flying in daylight.  Of course the vultures, hawks, and eagles fly during the day.  Swallows and swifts employ speed and agility on the wing to avoid becoming prey, as do hummingbirds.  Finches have an undulating flight, never flying on a horizontal plane, which makes their capture more difficult.  Other songbirds seen migrating by day, Red-winged Blackbirds for example, congregate into flocks soon after breeding season to avoid being alone.  Defense flocks change shape constantly as birds position themselves toward the center and away from the vulnerable fringes of the swarm.  The larger the flock, the safer the individual.  For a lone bird, large size can be a form of protection against all but the biggest of predators.  Among the more unusual defenses is that of birds like Indigo Buntings and other tropical migrants that fly across the Gulf of Mexico each autumn (often completing a portion of the flight during the day), risking exhaustion at sea to avoid the daylight hazards, including numerous predators, found in the coastal and arid lands of south Texas.  Above all, diurnal migrants capture our attention and provide a spectacle which fascinates us.  Perhaps diurnal migrants attract our favor because we can just stand or sit somewhere and watch them go by.  We can see, identify, and even count them.  It’s fantastic.

What about a bird like the Canada Goose (Branta canadensis)?  It is often seen migrating in flocks during the day (the truly migratory ones flying much higher than the local year-round resident “transplants”), but then, during the big peak movements of spring and fall, they can be heard overhead all through the night.  Perhaps the Canada Goose and related waterfowl bridge the gap between day and night, introducing us to the secretive starlight and moonshine commuters, the nocturnal migrants.

The high-flying migratory Canada Goose can be seen during the daytime and heard at night when passing over the lower Susquehanna River valley.  A large flight exiting from Chesapeake Bay in late February or early March often results in a 12 to 24 hour-long stream of northbound flocks.

The skies are sometimes filled with thousands of them, mostly small perching birds and waders.  These strangers in the night fly inconspicuously in small groups or individually, and most can be detected when passing above us only when heard making short calls to remain in contact with their travel partners.  They need not worry about predators, but instead must have a method of finding their way.  Many, like the Indigo Bunting, can navigate by the stars, a capability which certainly required many generations to refine.  The nocturnal migrants begin moving just after darkness falls and ascend without delay to establish a safe flight path void of obstacles (though lights and tall structures can create a deadly counter to this tactic).  Often, the only clue we have that a big overnight flight has occurred is the sudden appearance of new bird species or individuals, on occasion in great numbers, in a place where we observe regularly.  Just days ago, the arrival of various warbler species at Conewago Falls indicated that there was at least a small to moderate movement of these birds during previous nights.

In recent years, the availability of National Weather Service radar has brought the capability to observe nocturnal migrants into easy reach.  Through the night, you can log on to your local National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s National Weather Service radar page (State College for the Conewago Falls area) and watch on the map as the masses of migrating bird pass through the sweep of the radar beam.  As they lift off just after nightfall, rising birds will create an echo as they enter the sweeping beam close to the radar site.  Then, due to the incline of the transmitted signal and the curvature of the earth, migrants will be displayed as an expanding donut-like ring around the radar’s map location as returns from climbing birds are received from progressively higher altitudes at increasing distances from the center of the site’s coverage area.  On a night with a local or regional flight, several radar locations may show signs of birds in the air.  On nights with a widespread flight, an exodus of sorts, the entire eastern half of the United States may display birds around the sites.  You’ll find the terrain in the east allows it to be well-covered while radars in the west are less effective due to the large mountains.  At daybreak, the donut-shaped displays around each radar site location on the map contract as birds descend out of the transmitted beam and are no longer detected.

Weather systems sometimes seem to motivate some flights and stifle others.  The first example seen below is a northbound spring exodus, the majority of which is probably migrants from the tropics, the Neotropical migrants, including our two dozen species of warblers.  A cold front passing into the northeastern United States appears to have stifled any flight behind it, while favorable winds from the southwest are motivating a heavy concentration ahead of the front.

National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration/National Weather Service radar image from May 5, 2010, at 11:18 PM EDT, shows rain associated with a cold front moving east from the border of Ontario, Canada, and the United States into New England and the Mid-Atlantic region.  The heavy blue and green reflections surrounding the radar locations ahead of the front are nocturnal migrating birds taking advantage of favorable conditions for flight including a tail wind from the southwest.  Note the lighter migration behind the advancing front.  Heavy radar echoes on the gulf coast, particularly in Texas, indicate dense bird concentrations exiting the tropics to fan out into North American breeding areas.  The westward progression of expanding echoes surrounding individual radar sites indicates birds rising into the radar beam at local nightfall.

The second and third examples seen below are an autumn nocturnal migration movement, probably composed of many of the same tropics-bound species which were on the way north in the previous example.  Note that during autumn, the cold front seems to motivate the flight following its passage.  Ahead of the front, there is a reduced and, in places, undetectable volume of birds.  The two images below are separated by about 42 hours.

National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration/National Weather Service radar image (still) from September 5, 2017, at 2:38 AM EDT, shows rain in the northeast associated with a slow-moving cold front stretching from Maine southwest to New Mexico.  Heaviest nocturnal bird flights can be seen behind the advancing front where there are favorable tail winds from the north or northwest.
Nearly two full days later, the slow-moving cold front from the previous image has crossed Pennsylvania.  As nightfall progresses from east to west, ascending nocturnal migrants enter NEXRAD radar beams, their echoes creating expanding rings around individual sites.  Concentrations of southbound birds can be seen along the gulf coast.  Many will follow the Texas coastline into Mexico.  The Neotropical migrants that try to cross the Gulf of Mexico this night could be in for a perilous voyage.  Hurricane Katia is churning in the southern gulf and a much stronger storm, Hurricane Irma, is rolling toward the Bahamas and Florida from the southeast.  Masses of birds that follow learned routes or instinct to venture offshore and cross seas under such circumstances could suffer catastrophic losses.  (NOAA/National Weather Service image)

You can easily learn much more about birds (and insects and bats) on radar, including both diurnal and nocturnal migrants, by visiting the Clemson University Radar Ornithology Laboratory (CUROL) website.  There you’ll find information on using the various mode settings on NEXRAD (Next-Generation Radar) to differentiate between birds, other flying animals, and inanimate airborne or grounded objects.  It’s superbly done and you’ll be glad you gave it a try.

SOURCES

Clemson University Radar Ornithology Laboratory (CUROL) website:   http://virtual.clemson.edu/groups/birdrad/    as accessed September 6, 2017.

 

Suggestive Selling

A Baltimore Oriole (Icterus galbula) glowed in the first sunlight of the day as it began illuminating the treetops.  I’m not certain of the cause, but I often have the urge to dig into a bowl of orange sherbet after seeing one these magnificent blackbirds.  That’s right, in the Americas, orioles and blackbirds are members of the same family, Icteridae.  Look at blackbirds more carefully, you might see the resemblance.

Sunshine at dawn and migrating warblers were again active in the foliage.  Eight species were identified today.  Off to the tropics they go.  To the land of palm and citrus, yes citrus…limes, lemons, grapefruits, and oranges.

The Ruby-throated Hummingbirds (Archilochus colubris) are on the way toward the gulf states, then on to Central and South America.  Five dashed by the rocky lookout in the falls this morning.  Remember, keep your feeders clean, wash and rinse all the parts, and refill them with a fresh batch of “nectar”, four or five parts water to one part sugar.  Repeating this process daily during hot weather should keep contamination from overtaking your feeder.  It’s not a bad idea to rotate two feeders.  Have one cleaned, rinsed, and air drying while the second is filled and in use at your feeding station, then just swap them around.  Your equipment will be just as clean as it is at the sanitary dairy…you know, where they make sherbet.

The first of the season Caspian Terns (Hydroprogne caspia), giant freshwater versions of the terns you see at the seashore, passed through the falls late this morning.  Their bills are blood-red, not orange like the more familiar terns on the coast.  They’re stunning.

Ring-billed Gulls (Larus delawarensis) have been at the falls for several weeks.  Total numbers and the composition of the age groups in the flock change over the days, so birds appear to be trickling through and are then replaced by others coming south.  The big push of southbound migrants for this and many other species that winter locally in the Mid-Atlantic region and in the southern United States is still more than a month away.  There are still plenty more birds to come after the hours of daylight are reduced and the temperatures take a dip.

A Ring-billed Gull on the lookout for a morning snack.  They’ll eat almost anything and do a good job of keeping the river picked clean of the remains of animals that have met misfortune.  They’ll linger around landfills, hydroelectric dams, and fast-food restaurant parking lots through the winter.
Turkey Vultures (Cathartes aura) are common around the falls due to the abundance of carrion in the vicinity and because of the strong thermal updrafts of air over the sun-heated Pothole Rocks.  These rising currents provide lift for circling vultures.  We would expect migrating birds of a number of species will also take advantage of these thermals to gain altitude and extend the distance of their glides.

Some migrating butterflies were counted today.  Cloudless Sulphurs, more of a vagrant than a migrant, and, of course, Monarchs.  I’ll bet you know the Monarch, it’s black and orange.  How can you miss them, colored orange.

That’s it, that’s all for now, I bid you adieu…I’m going to have a dip of orange sherbet, or two.

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Harvey Passes By

Rain from the remnants of Hurricane/Tropical Storm Harvey ended just after daybreak this morning.  Locally, the precipitation was mostly absorbed into the soil.   There was little runoff and no flooding.  The river level at Conewago Falls is presently as low as it has been all summer.  Among the pools and rapids of the Pothole Rocks, numbers of migrating birds are building.

Mist and a low cloud ceiling created poor visibility while trying to see early morning birds, but they’re here.  The warblers are moving south and a small wave of them was filtering through the foliage on the edge of the Riparian Woodlands.  One must bend backwards to have a look, and most could not be identified due to the poor lighting in the crowns of the trees where they were zipping about.  Five species of warblers and two species of vireos were discerned.

There are increasing concentrations of swallows feeding on insects over the falls.  Hundreds were here today, mostly Tree Swallows (Tachycineta bicolor).  Bank Swallows (Stelgidopteryx riparia) numbered in the hundreds, far below the thousands, often 10,000, which staged here for migration and peaked during the first week of September annually during the 1980s and 1990s.  Their numbers have been falling steadily.  Loss of nesting locations in embankments near water may be impacting the entire population.  A reduction in the abundance of late-summer flying insects here on the lower Susquehanna River may be cause for them to abandon this area as a migration staging point.

Bank and Tree Swallows by the hundreds were feeding upon flying insects above the waters of Conewago Falls today.  Lesser numbers of Northern Rough-winged Swallows (Stelgidopteryx serripennis) and Barn Swallows (Hirundo rustica) joined the swarm.

Clear weather in the coming nights and days may get the migrants up and flying in large numbers.  For those species headed to the tropics for winter, the time to get moving has arrived.

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Birds of a Feather-The Basics

When we look at birds, we are fascinated by the unique structure and appearance of their feathers.  They set birds apart from all other life forms on the planet.  Feathers enable most birds to achieve a feat long envied by humans…flight.  Birds on the wing awaken a curiosity in man.  They are generally the largest animals one will see in the air.  People want to know the name of a bird they see flying by, and want to know more about it.  The method and style of bird flight can aid an observer who attempts to determine which of the world’s 10,000 bird species he or she is studying.  Body shape and bird sounds often tell us a lot about the birds we encounter.  But most often, we rely on the unique colors, patterns, and shapes of the feathers, the plumage, to identify the bird we are seeing.

To birds, feathers are survival.  They are lightweight and strong to support the mechanics of flight.  Feathers are superb insulators against the elements, and provide additional buoyancy for birds spending time on the water.  For most birds, feathers provide a coloration and a texture similar to their surroundings, enabling them to hide from predators or to stalk prey.  In the case of some species, extravagant showy plumage is acquired, at least during the breeding season, and often only by males, as a way to attract a mate, intimidate rivals, defend a territory, or lure an intruder away from a nest site.  Because they become worn and damaged, all feathers are periodically molted and replaced by fresh plumage.

The feathers worn by a young bird leaving the nest are called the juvenile plumage.  Typically, this is followed by a molt into a basic (non-breeding) plumage.  The oft times extravagant breeding feathers are the result of a molt into an alternate (breeding) plumage.

While making field observations, the species, subspecies, gender, age, and other vital statistics of a bird can often by discerned easily by noting the plumage.  In the case of some other birds, diligence, experience, research, and an exceptionally good look and/or a photograph may be required to interpret these particulars.  In still other instances, a trained expert with a specimen in the hand is the only method of learning the bird’s identity and background.

This juvenile House Wren (Troglodytes aedon) left the nest wearing plumage very similar to that of its parents.  In lieu of bright colors, the male House Wren relies upon a vigorous bubbly song and a scrappy demeanor to defend its breeding territory.  This species nests in cavities on the edges of the Riparian Woodlands of Conewago Falls.  Males may have more than one mate.  House Wrens probably migrate at night and will winter in the southern border states and further south.

The age at which birds acquire adult breeding and non-breeding plumages varies by species.  Many juvenile birds resemble adults in basic (non-breeding) plumage as soon as they leave the nest.  For these birds, there is little difference between their juvenile plumage and the appearance of the feathers which follow the molt into their first basic (non-breeding) plumage.  Bird species which sexually mature within their first year may acquire their first basic (non-breeding) plumage before arrival of their first winter, followed by an alternate (breeding) plumage by their first spring.  This is particularly true for smaller short-lived birds.  Other species, normally larger long-lived ones, may experience a sequence of molts through multiple basic (non-breeding) plumages over a period of years prior to resembling an adult.  Some of these species, such as eagles, retain their juvenile plumage for as long as a year before extensive molting into a first basic (non-breeding) plumage begins.  Still others, including many gulls, attain a first-winter (formative) plumage prior to molting into their first basic (non-breeding) set of feathers.  Sexual maturity and initiation of an annual molt to alternate (breeding) plumage, if there is one, may take as long as three to five years for these bigger birds.

For nearly all species of birds, the molts which produce basic (non-breeding) plumage occur on at least an annual basis and include a total replacement of feathers.  This process renews worn and missing plumes including the flight feathers of the wings and tail.  Any molt to alternate (breeding) plumage often excludes the replacement of the feathers of the wings and tail.  There are many exceptions to these generalities.

A mid-summer nesting species, the American Goldfinch, Spinus tristis, male (left and right) molts into a glamorous alternate plumage for the breeding season.  The adult female’s alternate plumage (top) is a subdued green-yellow and black.  Her feathers resemble the foliage around the nest and offer protection from discovery during incubation.  Juvenile plumage (bottom) is similar to that of the female, but duller with a buffy tone.  By November each of these birds will have molted into a tan-buff basic (non-breeding) plumage, the male’s with a slight yellow hue.  During their first spring, juveniles attain sexual maturity and, like the adults from the previous year, molt into alternate (breeding) plumage.  The breeding birds seen here will probably winter in the southern United States, and birds that nested to our north will arrive to remain as winter residents.  Various stages of molt can be seen simultaneously during spring and autumn migrations as populations of goldfinches from multiple latitudes intermingle as they pass through the Susquehanna River watershed.
This juvenile Spotted Sandpiper (Actitis macularius), lacks the namesake dark markings on its white underside, thus it presently resembles an adult in basic (non-breeding) plumage.  Upon reaching sexual maturity, it will molt into a spotted alternate (breeding) plumage for the nesting season during each remaining year of its life.  Females of this species defend a territory and lay eggs in a nest located among cover near the shoreline.  A female may have as many as five mates.  Males alone incubate the eggs, usually four, for 20-24 days.  The young leave the nest upon hatching and are escorted by the male for about two to three additional weeks.  They are the only sandpiper to nest on the Susquehanna River shoreline.  Spotted Sandpipers migrate to the southern border states and further south for winter.  At Conewago Falls, they arrive in late April to nest, with birds, possibly migrants from further north, remaining until well into October.  In any plumage, you can easily recognize the Spotted Sandpiper by its habit of teetering its body at the hips to pump the tail up and down.
Bald Eagles go through a series of five molts before reaching adult plumage.  The first plumage, Juvenile, is nearly all dark brown with white linings along the forward underside of the wings.  The wing and tail feathers are a bit longer than in later plumages to aid the inexperienced birds during their clumsy first flights.  Due to the additional feather length, Juveniles look larger than older birds, but they are not as heavy as their seniors.  The bird seen here flying above Conewago Falls is probably in its second year.  This plumage, Basic I, also known as “White Belly I”, is characterized by a nearly full set of new flight feathers.  Note that some of the longer Juvenile feathers are still present, giving the wings a jagged sloppy look, particularly near the center of the trailing edge.  Third-year (Basic II) birds often have at least some white belly feathers and are sometimes known as “White Belly II” Bald Eagles.  Basic II birds typically possess a complete set of adult flight feathers, so the trailing edge of the wing has a neater and more uniform appearance.

The Bald Eagle in the two photographs above is in its first year.  This plumage, known as “Juvenile”, is characterized by dark flight feathers which appear uniformly long in length when the bird is airborne.  The eye is dark brown.  The iris of the eye will lighten in the second year (Basic I) and will become cream-colored by the third year (Basic II).  The bill, which is all dark gray when the bird is in the nest, has begun the slow progression to a yellow color that will be complete in the bird’s fifth year (Basic IV).  Third year (Basic II) birds molt to white crown and throat feathers, but have a dark set of feathers through the eye producing an “Osprey face” in most individuals.  In its fourth year (Basic III), this eagle will molt to a white tail with just a thin dark brown terminal band.  The head will become nearly all white except for a few dark spots through the eye, which will have a yellow iris.  A cleaner white head and tail will develop during the fifth year (Basic IV) and will persist through the familiar adult Bald Eagle plumages (Definitive Plumage) for the remainder of its life.

The Juvenile and non-breeding (basic) plumages of late-summer may seem drab and confusing, but learning them is a worthwhile endeavor.  Consider that most of the birds coming south during the migration will be adorned in this fashion.  The birds of North America are in their greatest numerical mass of the year right now, and nearly all are females, juveniles, other non-adults, or molting males.  There are few males in breeding plumage among the autumn waves of migrants.  In the coming months, there will be an abundance of opportunities to enjoy these marvels on wings, so getting to know the birds in non-breeding feathers is time well spent.  Make haste and get ready.  For our feathered friends, it’s autumn and they’re on their way south.

Here come the confusing fall migrants.  Twelve Semipalmated Sandpipers (Calidris pusilla) and sixteen unidentified “peep” sandpipers (Calidris species) were seen feeding in Conewago Falls on August 27.  This Semipalmated Sandpiper is either an adult in worn alternate (breeding) plumage or a Juvenile.  Adults of this species molt into basic plumage on the wintering grounds.  The Semipalmated Sandpiper breeds in the high arctic tundra and winters in the West Indies and northern South America.
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SOURCES

Dunne, Pete.  2006.  Pete Dunne’s Essential Field Guide Companion.  Houghton Mifflin Company.  New York.

Hayman, Peter; John Marchant, and Tony Prater.  1986.  Shorebirds, An Identification Guide to the Waders of the World.  Houghton Mifflin Company.  New York.

Kauman, Kenn.  1996.  Lives of North American Birds.  Houghton Mifflin Company.  New York.

McCullough, Mark A.  1989.  Molting Sequence and Aging Of Bald Eagles.  The Wilson Bulletin.  101:1-10.

Summertime Blues

Let’s imagine that you spend your summer as a singer and you have to strut your stuff in a blue suit all day long just so the other guys know that you’re not going to tolerate any nonsense with either of your two gals.  And…you’re responsible for feeding the adolescent kids while each of the girls begins a second family.  Wouldn’t you be ready for a break by late August?

The boys must think so.  They’re quiet now.  This week was the end.  They’ve done their duty.  They protected their homes and got the youngsters out on their own.  It’s time to eat, get out of the dress blues, and prepare to take a flight to warmer climates, maybe even the tropics…for a holiday of sorts.

The male Indigo Bunting (Passerina cyanea) has a busy schedule.  Before arriving at Conewago Falls in early May, he has molted from the plainest of plain brown plumage and donned an iridescent set of feathers that glow a brilliant blue and purple in sunlight.  He chooses a territory with plenty of shrubby and weedy growth along the edge of a woodland, and begins to sing and defend his parcel, often from a dead tree or other perch.

At Conewago Falls, the Indigo Bunting is a common breeding bird, finding the mosaic of electric transmission wire right-of-ways, railroads, and the Riverine Grasslands to be absolutely perfect habitat.  The female, inconspicuous in her uniformly brown plumage, builds the nest, incubates the 3 to 4 eggs (11 to 14 days), and feeds the young in the nest (9 to 12 days).  Being quite the showboats, some males will have more than one mate nesting in their territory.  In addition to defending the nest(s), the male Indigo Bunting will sometimes feed the fledged young so that the female(s) can begin incubating a second brood.  The summertime diet is mostly invertebrates, but seeds are also consumed.

A male Indigo Bunting defends nesting territory from a perch on a dead tree.

By late August, the young of the year are mostly on their own.  The male’s territorial urges, including the nearly non-stop singing, come to an end.  Soon, his blue feathers are beginning to drop and a molt is underway into a brown plumage resembling that of the females and juveniles.

Indigo Buntings evacuate their breeding range in eastern North America to winter mostly south of the United States.  These nocturnal travelers have been the subject of migration behavior studies.  They are among a number of small bird species known to cross the Gulf of Mexico on their way south.  Also, Indigo Buntings can navigate by the stars.

On the wintering grounds, Indigo Buntings are flocking birds.  At this time of year, they consume more seeds as a component of their diet and are known to visit bird feeders.

By April, the blue suit is back, and the males and females are on the way north.  Hope to see you then pal.

SOURCES

Dunne, Pete.  2006.  Pete Dunne’s Essential Field Guide Companion.  Houghton Mifflin Company.  New York.

Kaufman, Kenn.  1996.  Lives of North American Birds.  Houghton Mifflin Company.  New York.

A Little Black Spot on the Sun Today

Was there a better place to have a look at the dark side of the moon easing across the summer sun than from the Pothole Rocks at Conewago Falls?  O.K., alright, so there must have been a venue or two with bigger crowds, grand emotions, prepared foods, and near darkness, but the pseudolunar landscape of the falls seemed like an ideal observation point for the great North American solar eclipse of 2017.

The craters of the moon right here on earth, the Pothole Rocks of Conewago Falls.

Being the only person on the entire falls had its advantages, not the least of which was the luxury of pointing the camera directly at the sun and clicking off a few shots without getting funny looks and scolding comments.  Priceless solitude.

Point that camera right at that eclipse for a nice little photograph of the big event.

If you think it looks like the above photograph was taken in a house of mirrors, then you’re pretty sharp.  You’ve got it figured out.  After getting a bad case of welder’s burns on the first day of a job at a metal fabricating shop during my teen years, I learned the value of a four dollar piece of glass.

A number 12 welder’s lens in action while viewing and photographing today’s solar eclipse.
The eclipse at 2:19 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time (18:19 U.T.C), nearly as good as it was going to get at Conewago Falls.  The lunar disc would continue to the left, leaving the top fifth of the sun “uneclipsed”.

For those of you who prefer not to look at the sun, even with protection (I heard those S.P.F. 30 sunblock eye drops were a fraud…I hope you didn’t buy any.), here is the indirect viewing method as it happened today.

The eclipse is projected into the bottom of a cavernous hole in a Pothole Rock. (Three or four people can sit inside this hole.)  The tube, lenses, and mirrors of one side of a pair of binoculars were used to focus the thin sliver of sunlight onto the diabase stone “floor”.  The optics have inverted the image.

If you were to our south in the path of totality for this eclipse, you probably noted reactions by flora and fauna.  Here, there was really not much to report.  The leaves of Partridge Pea didn’t fold for the night, birds didn’t fly away to roost, and the chorus of evening and nighttime singing insects didn’t get cranked up.  The only sensation was the reduced brightness of the sun, as if a really dark cloud was filtering the light without changing its color or eliminating shadows.  And that was the great solar eclipse of 2017.

Beauties

It’s tough being good-looking and liked by so many.  You’ve got to watch out, because popularity makes you a target.  Others get jealous and begin a crusade to have you neutralized and removed from the spotlight.  They’ll start digging to find your little weaknesses and flaws, then they’ll exploit them to destroy your reputation.  Next thing you know, people look at you as some kind of hideous scoundrel.

Today, bright afternoon sunshine and a profusion of blooming wildflowers coaxed butterflies into action.  It was one of those days when you don’t know where to look first.

A Pearl Crescent (Phyciodes tharos) sipping nectar from Rough Boneset (Eupatorium pilosum) flowers.  Asters (Aster) are the host plants for the larvae of this butterfly.
A Buckeye (Junonia coenia) on Rough Boneset.  Its caterpillars are known to feed on members of the Acanthus family, possibly including the Water Willow (Justicia americana) which is so abundant in Conewago Falls.
Visitors from south of the Mason-Dixon Line arrived on the recent warm winds.  Two Cloudless Sulphurs (Phoebis sennae) patrolled the Riverine Grasslands, especially near the stands of Partridge Pea, a possible host plant.  One is seen here visiting a Halbred-leaved Rose Mallow blossom.  These large yellow butterflies are always a standout.

Purple Loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria) has a bad reputation.  Not native to the Americas, this prolific seed producer began spreading aggressively into many wetlands following its introduction.  It crowds out native plant species and can have a detrimental impact on other aquatic life.  Stands of loosestrife in slow-moving waters can alter flows, trap sediment, and adversely modify the morphology of waterways.  Expensive removal and biological control are often needed to protect critical habitat.

The dastardly Purple Loosestrife may have only two positive attributes.  First, it’s a beautiful plant.  And second, it’s popular; butterflies and other pollinators find it to be irresistible and go wild over the nectar.

A Silver-spotted Skipper (Epargyreus clarus) feeding on Purple Loosestrife nectar.  The host plants for this common butterfly’s caterpillars are a wide variety of Legumes.
A Cabbage White (Pieris rapae), a butterfly introduced from Europe in the 1800s, feeds on introduced Purple Loosestrife.
A Wild Indigo Duskywing (Erynnis baptisiae) feeding on Purple Loosestrife. This butterfly has expanded its population and range by using the introduced Crown Vetch as a host plant.

Don’t you just adore the wonderful butterflies.  Everybody does.  Just don’t tell anyone that they’re pollinating those dirty filthy no-good Purple Loosestrife plants.

SOURCES

Brock, Jim P., and Kenn Kaufman.  2003.  Butterflies of North America.  Houghton Mifflin Company.  New York.

Newcomb, Lawrence.  1977.  Newcomb’s Wildflower Guide.  Little, Brown and Company.  Boston, Massachusetts.

The Dungeon

There’s something frightening going on down there.  In the sand, beneath the plants on the shoreline, there’s a pile of soil next to a hole it’s been digging.  Now, it’s dragging something toward the tunnel it made.  What does it have?  Is that alive?

We know how the system works, the food chain that is.  The small stuff is eaten by the progressively bigger things, and there are fewer of the latter than there are of the former, thus the whole network keeps operating long-term.  Some things chew plants, others devour animals whole or in part, and then there are those, like us, that do both.  In the natural ecosystem, predators keep the numerous little critters from getting out of control and decimating certain other plant or animal populations and wrecking the whole business.  When man brings an invasive and potentially destructive species to a new area, occasionally we’re fortunate enough to have a native species adapt and begin to keep the invader under control by eating it.  It maintains the balance.  It’s easy enough to understand.

Japanese Beetles (Popillia japonica) seen here on Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow.  Without predation, exploding numbers of this invasive non-indigenous insect can defoliate and kill numerous species of plants in a given area.
The Song Sparrow (Melospiza melodia) is a generalist feeder, eating seeds and invertebrates including Japanese Beetles.  This species is the omnipresent year-round occupant of shoreline vegetation along the lower Susquehanna River.

Late summer days are marked by a change in the sounds coming from the forests surrounding the falls.  For birds, breeding season is ending, so the males cease their chorus of songs and insects take over the musical duties.  The buzzing of the male “Annual Cicada” (Tibicen) is the most familiar.  The female cicada lays its eggs in the twigs of trees.  After hatching, the nymphs drop to the ground and burrow to live and feed along tree roots for the next two to five years.  A dry exoskeleton clinging to a tree trunk is evidence that a nymph has emerged from the soil and flown away as an adult.  There are adult Annual Cicadas present every year.

An “Annual Cicada”, probably a Silver-bellied Cicada (Tibicen pruinosa), clings to a stem on a Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow at Conewago Falls.

For the adult cicada, there is danger.  It looks like an enormous bee.  It’s a Cicada Killer (Specius speciosus) wasp, and it will latch onto a cicada and begin stinging while both are in flight.  The stings soon paralyze the screeching panicked cicada.  The Cicada Killer then begins the task of airlifting and/or dragging its victim to the lair it has prepared.  The cicada is placed in one of more than a dozen cells in the tunnel complex where it will serve as food for the wasp’s larvae.  The wasp lays an egg on the cicada, then leaves and pushes the hole closed.  The egg hatches in a several days and the larval grub is on its own to feast upon the hapless cicada.

A Cicada Killer (Sphecius speciosus) along the river shoreline. Despite their intimidating appearance, they do not sting humans and can be quite docile when approached.

Other species in the Solitary Wasp family (Sphecidae) have similar life cycles using specific prey which they incapacitate to serve as sustenance for their larvae.

A Solitary Wasp, probably of the genus Ammophila, drags a paralyzed moth caterpillar to its breeding dungeon in the sandy soil at Conewago Falls.  For the victim, there is no escape from the crypt.

The Solitary Wasps are an important control on the populations of their respective prey.  Additionally, the wasp’s bizarre life cycle ensures a greater survival rate for its own offspring by providing sufficient food for each of its progeny before the egg beginning its life is ever put in place.  It’s complete family planning.

The cicadas reproduce quickly and, as a species, seem to endure the assault by Cicada Killers, birds, and other predators.  The Periodical Cicadas (Magicicada), with adult flights occurring as a massive swarm of an entire population every thirteen or seventeen years, survive as species by providing predators with so ample a supply of food that most of the adults go unmolested to complete reproduction.  Stay tuned, 2021 is due to be the next Periodical Cicada year in the vicinity of Conewago Falls.

SOURCES

Eaton, Eric R., and Kenn Kaufman.  2007.  Kaufman Field Guide to Insects of North America.  Houghton Mifflin Company.  New York.

S’more

The tall seed-topped stems swaying in a summer breeze are a pleasant scene.  And the colorful autumn shades of blue, orange, purple, red, and, of course, green leaves on these clumping plants are nice.  But of the multitude of flowering plants, Big Bluestem, Freshwater Cordgrass, and Switchgrass aren’t much of a draw.  No self-respecting bloom addict is going out of their way to have a gander at any grass that hasn’t been subjugated and tamed by a hideous set of spinning steel blades.  Grass flowers…are you kidding?

Big Bluestem in flower in the Riverine Grasslands at Conewago Falls.

O.K., so you need something more.  Here’s more.

Meet the Partridge Pea (Chamaecrista fasciculata).  It’s an annual plant growing in the Riverine Grasslands at Conewago Falls as a companion to Big Bluestem.  It has a special niche growing in the sandy and, in summertime, dry soils left behind by earlier flooding and ice scour.  The divided leaves close upon contact and also at nightfall.  Bees and other pollinators are drawn to the abundance of butter-yellow blossoms.  Like the familiar pea of the vegetable garden, the flowers are followed by flat seed pods.

The Partridge Pea can tolerate dry sandy soils.

But wait, here’s more.

In addition to its abundance in Conewago Falls, the Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow (Hibiscus laevis) is the ubiquitous water’s edge plant along the free-flowing Susquehanna River for miles downstream.  It grows in large clumps, often defining the border between the emergent zone and shore-rooted plants.  It is particularly successful in accumulations of alluvium interspersed with heavier pebbles and stone into which the roots will anchor to endure flooding and scour.  Such substrate buildup around the falls, along mid-river islands, and along the shores of the low-lying Riparian Woodlands immediately below the falls are often quite hospitable to the species.

Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow is a durable inhabitant of the falls.  Regular flooding keeps competing species at bay.  A taproot helps to safeguard against dislocation, allowing plants to grow in places subjected to turbulent currents.
Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow in bloom.  The similarity to cultivated members of the Hibiscus genus can readily be seen.  It is one of the showiest of perennial wildflowers in the floodplain.  Note the lobed, halberd-shaped leaves, source of its former species name militaris.
The seeds of Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow are contained in bladders which can float to assist in their distribution.  Some of these bladders cling to the dead leafless stems in winter, making it an easy plant to identify in nearly any season.

A second native wildflower species in the genus Hibiscus is found in the Conewago Falls floodplain, this one in wetlands.  The Swamp Rose Mallow (H. moscheutos) is similar to Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow, but sports more variable and colorful blooms.  The leaves are toothed without the deep halberd-style lobes and, like the stems, are downy.  As the common name implies, it requires swampy habitat with ample water and sunlight.

Swamp Rose Mallow in a sunny wetland.  This variety with solid-colored flowers (without dark centers) and pale green leaves and stems was formerly known as a separate species of  Swamp Rose Mallow, H. palustris.  Note that the flowers are terminal on the stems.
A few scattered specimens of a more typical variety of Swamp Rose Mallow are found on the shoreline and in the Riverine Grasslands of Conewago Falls.  The blooms are bright pink with darker centers and the leaf stems are robust and reddish.  This one is seen growing among Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow, with which it shares the characteristic of having flower stems growing from some of the upper leaf axils.  A variety with red-centered white flowers is often found throughout the plant’s range.

In summary, we find Partridge Pea in the Riverine Grasslands growing in sandy deposits left by flood and ice scour.  We find Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow rooted at the border between shore and the emergent zone.  We find Swamp Rose Mallow as an emergent in the wetlands of the floodplain.  And finally, we find marshmallows in only one location in the area of Conewago Falls.  Bon ap’.

Here’s S’more

SOURCES

Newcomb, Lawrence.  1977.  Newcomb’s Wildflower Guide.  Little, Brown and Company.  Boston, Massachusetts.

Summer Grasses

It has not been a good summer if you happen to be a submerged plant species in the lower Susquehanna River.  Regularly occurring showers and thunderstorms have produced torrents of rain and higher than usual river stages.  The high water alone wouldn’t prevent you from growing, colonizing a wider area, and floating several small flowers on the surface, however, the turbidity, the suspended sediment, would.  The muddy current casts a dirty shadow on the benthic zone preventing bottom-rooted plants from getting much headway.  There will be smaller floating mats of the uppermost leaves of these species.  Fish and invertebrates which rely upon this habitat for food and shelter will find sparse accommodation…better luck next year.

Due to the dirty water, fish-eating birds are having a challenging season as they try to catch sufficient quantities of prey to feed themselves and their offspring.  A family of Ospreys (Pandion haliaetus) at Conewago Falls, including recently fledged young, were observed throughout this morning and had no successful catches.  Of the hundred or more individual piscivores of various species present, none were seen retrieving fish from the river.  The visibility in the water column needs to improve before fishing is a viable enterprise again.

Ospreys competing for a suitable fishing perch.  Improving water conditions in the coming week should increase their success as predators.
Versatile at finding food, adult Bald Eagles are experienced and know to be on the lookout for Ospreys with fish, a meal they can steal through intimidation.

While the submerged plant communities may be stunted by 2017’s extraordinary water levels, there is a very unique habitat in Conewago Falls which endures summer flooding and, in addition, requires the scouring effects of river ice to maintain its mosaic of unique plants.  It is known as a Riverine Grassland or scour grassland.

The predominant plants of the Riverine Grasslands are perennial warm-season grasses.  The deep root systems of these hardy species have evolved to survive events which prevent the grassland from reverting to woodland through succession.  Fire, intense grazing by wild herd animals, poor soils, drought, and other hardships, including flooding and ice scour, will eliminate intolerant plant species and prevent an area from reforesting.  In winter and early spring, scraping and grinding by flood-driven chunk ice mechanically removes large woody and poorly rooted herbaceous growth from susceptible portions of the falls.  These adverse conditions clear the way for populations of species more often associated with North America’s tall grass prairies to take root.  Let’s have a look at some of the common species found in the “Conewago Falls Pothole Rocks Prairie”.

Big Bluestem (Andropogon gerardi), seen here growing in the cracks of a pothole rock. High water nourishes the plant by filling the crevices with nutrient-loaded sediment. This species evolved with roots over three feet deep to survive fires, trampling by bison, and drought.
Freshwater Cordgrass (Spartina pectinata) does well with its roots in water.  It creates exceptional bird habitat and grows in the falls and on ice-scoured small islands in free-flowing segments of the Susquehanna River downstream.
Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum), like Big Bluestem, is one of the tall grass prairie species and, like Freshwater Cordgrass, grows in near pure stands on ice-scoured islands.  It takes flooding well and its extensive root system prevents erosion.
Though not a grass, Water Willow (Justicia americana) is familiar as a flood-enduring emergent plant of river islands, gravel bars, and shorelines where its creeping rhizome root system spreads the plant into large masses.  These stands are often known locally as “grass beds”.  This member of the acanthus family provides habitat for fish and invertebrates among its flooded leaves and stems.  Its presence is critical to aquatic life in a year such as this.

The Conewago Falls Riverine Grassland is home to numerous other very interesting plants.  We’ll look at more of them next time.

SOURCES

Brown, Lauren.  1979.  Grasses, An Identification Guide.  Houghton Mifflin Company.  New York, NY.

Fussy Eaters

She ate only toaster pastries…that’s it…nothing else.  Every now and then, on special occasions, when a big dinner was served, she’d have a small helping of mashed potatoes, no gravy, just plain, thank you.  She received all her nutrition from several meals a week of macaroni and cheese assembled from processed ingredients found in a cardboard box.  It contains eight essential vitamins and minerals, don’t you know?  You remember her, don’t you?

Adult female butterflies must lay their eggs where the hatched larvae will promptly find the precise food needed to fuel their growth.  These caterpillars are fussy eaters, with some able to feed upon only one particular species or genus of plant to grow through the five stages, the instars, of larval life.  The energy for their fifth molt into a pupa, known as a chrysalis, and metamorphosis into an adult butterfly requires mass consumption of the required plant matter.  Their life cycle causes most butterflies to be very habitat specific.  These splendid insects may visit the urban or suburban garden as adults to feed on nectar plants, however, successful reproduction relies upon environs which include suitable, thriving, pesticide-free host plants for the caterpillars.  Their survival depends upon more than the vegetation surrounding the typical lawn will provide.

The Monarch (Danaus plexippus), a butterfly familiar in North America for its conspicuous autumn migrations to forests in Mexico, uses the milkweeds (Asclepias) almost exclusively as a host plant.  Here at  Conewago Falls, wetlands with Swamp Milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) and unsprayed clearings with Common Milkweed (A. syriaca) are essential to the successful reproduction of the species.  Human disturbance, including liberal use of herbicides, and invasive plant species can diminish the biomass of the Monarch’s favored nourishment, thus reducing significantly the abundance of the migratory late-season generation.

Monarch caterpillar after a fourth molt.  The fifth instar feeding on Swamp Milkweed.
A fifth molt begets the Monarch pupa, the chrysalis, from which the showy adult butterfly will emerge.
Adult Monarch feeding on Goldenrod (Solidago) nectar.

Butterflies are good indicators of the ecological health of a given environment.  A diversity of butterfly species in a given area requires a wide array of mostly indigenous plants to provide food for reproduction.  Let’s have a look at some of the species seen around Conewago Falls this week…

An adult Silvery Checkerspot (Chlosyne nycteis) visiting a nectar plant, Partridge Pea (Chamaecrista fasciculata).  Wingstem (Verbesina alternifolia), a plant of the Riparian Woodlands, is among the probable hosts for the caterpillars.
A Gray Hairstreak (Strymon melinus) visits Crown Vetch, a possible host plant.  Other potential larval food in the area includes Partridge Pea, Halberd-leaved Rose Mallow (Hibiscus laevis) of the river shoreline, and Swamp Rose Mallow (Hibiscus moscheutos), a plant of wetlands.
The Eastern Tailed Blue (Cupido comyntas) may use Partridge Pea , a native wildflower species, and the introduced Crown Vetch (Securigera/Coronilla varia) as host and nectar plants at Conewago Falls.
The Least Skipper (Ancyloxypha numitor) is at home among tall grasses in woodland openings, at riverside, and in the scoured grassland habitat of the Pothole Rocks in the falls.  Host plants available include Switchgrass (Panicum vigatum), Freshwater Cordgrass (Spartina pectinata), and Foxtails (Setaria).
The Zabulon Skipper (Poanes zabulon) is an inhabitant of moist clearings where the caterpillars may feed upon Lovegrasses (Eragrostis) and Purpletop (Tridens flavus).
The Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio glaucus), a female seen here gathering nectar from Joe-Pye Weed (Eutrochium), relies upon several forest trees as hosts. Black Cherry (Prunus serotina), Willow (Salix), Yellow Poplar (Liriodendron tulipifera), also known as Tuliptree, and Green Ash (Fraxinus pennsylvanica) are among the local species known to be used.  The future of the latter food species at Conewago Falls is doubtful.  Fortunately for the Eastern Tiger Swallowtail, the “generalist” feeding requirements of this butterfly’s larvae enable the species to survive the loss of a host plant.
A female Eastern Tiger Swallowtail, black morph, gathering nectar from Joe-Pye Weed.
The Zebra Swallowtail (Protographium marcellus), seen here on Joe-Pye Weed, feeds exclusively upon Pawpaw (Asimina) trees as a caterpillar.  This butterfly species may wander, but its breeding range is limited to the moist Riparian Woodlands where colonial groves of Pawpaw may be found.  The Common Pawpaw (Asimina triloba), our native species in Pennsylvania, and the Zebra Swallowtail occur at the northern edge of their geographic ranges in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed.  Planting Pawpaw trees as an element of streamside reforestation projects certainly benefits this marvelous butterfly.

The spectacularly colorful butterflies are a real treat on a hot summer day.  Their affinity for showy plants doubles the pleasure.

By the way, I’m certain by now you’ve recalled that fussy eater…and how beautiful she grew up to be.

SOURCES

Brock, Jim P., and Kaufman, Kenn.  2003.  Butterflies of North America.  Houghton Mifflin Company.  New York, NY.

Digging In

If you visit the shores of the Susquehanna River during the warmer months of the year, there’s a pretty good probability that you’ll be taking a visitor along home with you.  Not to worry, it won’t raid the icebox or change the television channels when you leave the room to get a snack.  It won’t put you in the doghouse with the landlord for having a forbidden pet.  As a matter of fact, you may not even notice your new companion.  Sure enough though, it’s there, crawling through the luxurious warm fabric of your clothing and seeking out a good place to dig in and chow down.  O.K., so now you’re worried.

Ticks, particularly the American Dog Tick (Dermacentor variabilis), are widespread in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed.  Like spiders, they are arachnids.  They have a four-stage life cycle (egg-larva-nymph-adult) which, in the case of D. variabilis, requires a minimum of two months to complete.  Females lay up to 6,500 eggs on the ground.  Then the fun begins as the larvae with any hope of survival must attach to a small mammal to feed.  They can survive for almost a year before finding a host.  After a successful hookup and subsequent blood feast of up to two weeks duration, the larva drops to the ground, molts into a nymph, and finds another small mammal, usually a bit bigger this time, to feed upon.  A nymph can survive for up to six months before needing to feed.  Finding the second host, the nymph feeds for 3 to 10 days, then drops to the ground to molt into an adult.  Adult American Dog Ticks can endure up to two years without feeding on a host.  The adults mate and feed on larger mammals such as deer and domestic animals including, of course, dogs.  After a blood meal of five days to two weeks duration, the adult female tick drops to the ground to lay eggs and initiate a new generation.

The adult American Dog Tick attaches to a potential host by hanging from vegetation and grabbing the passing victim with its forward legs to hitch a ride.  If undetected, a female will find a nice warm spot and “dig in” to begin feeding.  This male is looking for love, and in all the wrong places.

The American Dog Tick is renowned as a carrier of the Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever bacteria (Rickettsia rickettsii).  The bacteria is vectored by the ticks from rodents to dogs and humans.  The adult tick must be attached to the victim for a minimum of six to eight hours to transmit the pathogen.  A rash spreading from the wrists and the ankles to other portions of the body begins two to fourteen days after infection.

Tularemia, caused by the bacteria Francisella tularensis, can be passed by the American Dog Tick.  Symptoms can appear in three to twenty-one days and include chills, fever, and inflammation of the lymph nodes.

American Dog Ticks which attach to dogs, particularly near the neck, and are left in place to feed and engorge themselves for longer than five days can cause Canine Tick Paralysis.  Symptoms usually begin to subside only after a recovery period following removal of the arachnid.

The American Dog Tick is exposed to Borrelia burgdorferi, the bacteria responsible for Lyme Disease, however, transmittal of this pathogen is by the smaller Deer Tick (Ixodes scapularis), also known as the Black-legged Tick.  The Deer Tick is not presently common at Conewago Falls.  In the adjacent uplands, it is widespread and is carrying Lyme Disease where the White-tailed Deity (Odocoileus virginianus), the preferred host for the ticks, is found along with mice and other small rodents, the source of B. burgdorferi bacteria.  The Deer Tick easily escapes notice and cases of Lyme Disease are frequent, so vigilance is necessary.

SOURCES

Chan, Wai-Han, and Kaufman, Phillip.  2008.  American Dog Tick.  University of Florida Featured Creatures website  entnemdept.ufl.edu/creatures/urban/medical/american_dog_tick.htm  as accessed July 30, 2017.

 

The Antagonist

They can be a pesky nuisance.  The annoying high-frequency buzzing is bad enough, but it’s the quiet ones that get you.  While you were swatting at the noisy one, the silent gender sticks you and begins to feed.  Maybe you know it, or maybe you don’t.   She could make you itch and scratch.  If she’s carrying a blood-borne pathogen, you could get sick and possibly die.

To humans, mosquitos are the most dangerous animal in the world (though not in the United States where man himself and the domestic dog are more of a threat).  Globally, the Anopheles mosquitos that spread Malaria have been responsible for millions and millions of human deaths.  Some areas of Africa are void of human habitation due to the prevalence of Malaria-spreading Anopheles mosquitos.  In the northeastern United States, the Northern House Mosquito (Culex pipiens), as the carrier of West Nile Virus, is the species of greatest concern.  Around human habitations, standing water in tires, gutters, and debris are favorite breeding areas.  Dumping stagnant water helps prevent the rapid reproduction of this mosquito.

In recent years, the global distribution of these mosquito-borne illnesses has been one of man’s inadvertent accomplishments.  An infected human is the source of pathogens which the feeding mosquito transmits to another unsuspecting victim.  Infectious humans, traveling the globe, have spread some of these diseases to new areas or reintroduced them to sectors of the world where they were thought to have been eliminated.  Additionally, where the specific mosquito carrier of a disease is absent, the mobility of man and his cargos has found a way to transport them there.  Aedes aegypti, the “Yellow Fever Mosquito”, carrier of its namesake and the Zeka Virus, has found passage to much of the world including the southern United States.  Unlike other species, Aedes aegypti dwells inside human habitationsthus transmitting disease rapidly from person to person.  Another non-native species, the Asian Tiger Mosquito (Aedes albopictus), vector of Dengue Fever in the tropics, arrived in Houston in 1985 in shipments of used tires from Japan and in Los Angeles in 2001 in wet containers of “lucky bamboo” from Taiwan…some luck.

Asian Tiger Mosquito in action during the daylight hours, typical behavior of the genus. This species has been found in the area of Conewago Falls since at least 2013.

Poor mosquito, despite the death, suffering, and misery it has brought to Homo sapiens and other species around the planet, it will never be the most destructive animal on earth.  You, my bloodthirsty friends, will place second at best.  You see, mosquitos get no respect, even if they do create great wildlife sanctuaries by scaring people away.

The winner knows how to wipe out other species and environs not only to ensure its own survival, but, in many of its populations, to provide leisure, luxury, gluttony, and amusement.  This species possesses the cognitive ability to think and reason.  It can contemplate its own existence and the concepts of time.  It is aware of its history, the present, and its future, though its optimism about the latter may be its greatest delusion.  Despite possessing intellect and a capacity to empathize, it is devious, sinister, and selfish in its treatment of nearly every other living thing around it.  Its numbers expand and its consumption increases.  It travels the world carrying pest and disease to all its corners.  It pollutes the water, land, and air.  It has developed language, culture, and social hierarchies which create myths and superstitions to subdue the free will of its masses.   Ignoring the gift of insight to evaluate the future, it continues to reproduce without regard for a means of sustenance.  It is the ultimate organism, however, its numbers will overwhelm its resources.  The crowning distinction will be the extinction.

Homo sapiens will be the first animal to cause a mass extinction of life on earth.  The forces of nature and the cosmos need to wait their turn; man will take care of the species annihilation this time around.  The plants, animals, and clean environment necessary for a prosperous healthy life will cease to exist.  In the end, humans will degenerate, live in anguish, and leave no progeny.  Fate will do to man what he has done to his co-inhabitants of the planet.

The Bald Eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) is again a breeding species in the Susquehanna River watershed.  It is generally believed that during the mid-twentieth century, Dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane (DDT) pesticide residues accumulated in female top-of-the-food-chain birds including Bald Eagles.  As a result, thinner egg shells were produced.  These shells usually cracked during incubation, leading to failed reproduction in entire populations of birds, particularly those that fed upon fish or waterfowl.  In much of the developed world, DDT was used liberally during the mid-twentieth century to combat Malaria by killing mosquitos.  It was widely used throughout the United States as a general insecticide until it was banned here in 1972.  (Editors Note:  There is the possibility that polychlorinated biphenyls [P.C.B.s] and other industrial pollutants contributed to the reproductive failure of birds at the apex of aquatic food chains.  Just prior to the recovery of these troubled species, passage of the Clean Water Act in 1972 initiated reductions in toxic discharges from point sources into streams, rivers, lakes, bays, and oceans.  Production of P.C.B.s was banned in the United States in 1978.  Today, P.C.B.s from former discharge and dumping sites continue to be found in water.  Spills can still occur from sources including old electric transformers.)
To substitute any other beast would be folly.  Man, the human, Homo sapiens, the winner and champion, will repeatedly avail himself as the antagonist during our examination of the wonders of wildlife.  He is the villain.  The tragedy of his self-proclaimed dominion over the living things of the world will wash across these pages like muddy water topping a dam.  There’s nothing I can do about it, aside from fabricating a bad novel with a fictional characterization of man.  So let’s get on with it and take a look at “A Natural History of Conewago Falls”.  Let’s discover the protagonist, the heroic underdog of our story, “Life in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed.”

Over the top today.
SOURCES

Avery, Dennis T.  1995.  Saving the Planet with Pesticides and Plastic: The Environmental Triumph of High-Yield Farming.  Hudson Institute.  Indianapolis, Indiana.

Eaton, Eric R., and Kenn Kaufman.  2007.  Kaufman Field Guide to Insects of North America.  Houghton Mifflin Co.  New York.

Newman, L.H.  1965.  Man and Insects.  The Natural History Press.  Garden City, New York.

 

 

The Wall

It was one of the very first of my memories.  From the lawn of our home I could look across the road and down the hill through a gap in the woodlands.  There I could see water, sometimes still with numerous boulders exposed, other times rushing, muddy, and roaring.  Behind these waters was a great stone wall and beyond that a wooded hillside.  I recall my dad asking me if I could see the dam down there.  I couldn’t see a dam, just fascinating water and the gray wall behind it.  I looked and searched but not a trace of a structure spanning the near to far shore was to be seen.  Finally, at some point, I answered in the affirmative to his query; I could see the dam…but I couldn’t.

We lived in a small house in the village of Falmouth along the Susquehanna River in the northwest corner of Lancaster County over fifty years ago.  A few years after we had left our riverside domicile and moved to a larger town, the little house was relocated to make way for an electric distribution sub-station and a second set of electric transmission wires in the gap in the woodlands.  The Brunner Island coal-fired electric generating station was being upgraded downstream and, just upstream, a new nuclear-powered generating station was being constructed on Three Mile Island.  To make way for the expanding energy grid, our former residence was trucked to a nearby boat landing where there were numerous other river shacks and cabins.  Because it was placed in the floodplain, the building was raised onto a set of wooden stilts to escape high water.  It didn’t help.  The recording-breaking floods of Hurricane Agnes in June of 1972 swept the house away.

The view through the cut in the woodland, a little wider than in the early 1960s with the addition of the newer electric transmission wire towers. The “Wall” is the same.

During the time we lived along the Susquehanna, the river experienced record-low flow rates, particularly in the autumn of 1963 and again in 1964.  My dad was a dedicated 8mm home-movie photographer.  Among his reels was film of buses parked haphazardly along the road (PA Route 441 today) near our home.  Sightseers were coming to explore the widely publicized dry riverbed and a curious moon-like landscape of cratered rocks and boulders.  It’s hard to fathom, but people did things like that during their weekends before football was invented.  Scores of visitors climbed through the rocks and truck-size boulders inspecting this peculiar scene.  My dad, his friends, and so many others with camera in hand were experiencing the amazing geological feature known as the Pothole Rocks of Conewago Falls.

Conewago Falls on the Susquehanna River and several exposed York Haven Diabase Pothole Rocks.  Lancaster (foreground) and Dauphin (center) Counties meet along a southwest to northeast borderline through the rapids.  Lands on the west shoreline in the background are in York County.  Three Mile Island is seen in the upper right.

The river here meets serious resistance as it pushes its way through the complex geology of south-central Pennsylvania.  These hard dark-gray rocks, York Haven Diabase, are igneous in origin.  Diabase sheets and sills intruded the Triassic sediments of the Gettysburg Formation here over 190 million years ago.  It may be difficult to visualize, but these sediments were eroded from surrounding mountains into the opening rift valley we call the Gettysburg Basin.  This rift and others in a line from Nova Scotia to Georgia formed as the supercontinent Pangaea began dividing into the continents we know today.  Eventually the Atlantic Ocean rift would dominate as the active dynamic force and open to separate Africa from North America.  The inactive Gettysburg Basin, filled with sediments and intruded by igneous diabase, would henceforth, like the mountainous highlands surrounding it, be subjected to millions of years of erosion.  Of the regional rocks, the formations of Triassic redbeds, sandstones, and particularly diabase in the Gettysburg Basin are among the more resistant to the forces of erosion.  Many less resistant older rocks, particularly those of surrounding mountains, are gone.  Today, the remains of the Gettysburg Basin’s rock formations stand as rolling highlands in the Piedmont Province.

Flooded from the heavy rains of Tropical Storm Lee, the sediment-laden Susquehanna River flows through the Gettysburg Basin just south of Harrisburg, PA, September 10, 2011.  The “Wall” as seen from space.  (NASA Earth Observatory Image)

The weekend visitors in 1963 and 1964 marveled at evidence of the river’s fight to break down the hard York Haven Diabase.   Scoured bedrock traced the water’s turbulent flow patterns through the topography of the falls.  Meltwater from the receding glaciers of the Pleistocene Ice Ages thousands to tens of thousands of years ago raged in high volume abrasive-loaded torrents to sculpt the Pothole Rocks into the forms we see today.  Our modern floodwaters with ice and fine suspended sediments continue to wear at the smooth rocks and boulders, yet few are broken or crumbled to be swept away.  It’s a very slow process.  The river elevation here drops approximately 19 feet in a quarter of a mile, a testament to the bedrock’s persisting resistance to erosion.  Conewago Falls stands as a natural anomaly on a predominantly uniform gradient along the lower Susquehanna’s downhill path from the Appalachian Mountains to the Chesapeake Bay.

The scene of dangerous tumbling rapids during high flows, the drought and low water of 1963 and 1964 had left the falls to resemble a placid scene; a moonscape during a time when people were obsessed with mankind’s effort to visit earth’s satellite.  Visitors saw the falls as few others had during the twentieth century.  Much of it was due to the presence of the wall.  I had to be a bit older than four years old to grasp it.  You see the wall and the dam are one and the same.  The wall is the York Haven Dam.

The initial segment, a crib dam constructed in 1885 by the York Haven Paper Company to supply water power to their mill, took advantage of the geomorphic features of the diabase bedrock of Conewago Falls to divert additional river flow into the abandoned Conewago Canal.  The former canal, opened in 1797 to allow passage around the rapids along the west shore, was being used as a headrace to channel water into the grinding mill’s turbines.  Strategic placement of this first wall directed as much water as possible toward the mill with the smallest dam practicable.  The York Haven Power Company incorporated the paper mill’s crib dam into the “run-of-the-river” dam built through the falls from the electric turbine powerhouse they constructed on the west shore to the southern portion of Three Mile Island more than a mile away.   The facility began electric generation in 1904.  The construction of the “Red Hill Dam” from the east shore of Three Mile Island to the river’s east shore made York Haven Dam a complete impoundment on the Susquehanna.  The pool, “Lake Frederic”, thus floods that portion of the Pothole Rocks of Conewago Falls located behind the dam.   On the downstream side, water spilling over or through the dam often inundates the rocks or renders them inaccessible.

During the droughts of the early 1960s, diversion of nearly all river flow to the York Haven Dam powerhouse cleared the way for weekend explorers to see the Pothole Rocks in detail.  Void of water, the intriguing bedrock of Conewago Falls below the dam greeted the curious with its ripples, cavities, and oddity.  It was an opportunity nature alone would not provide.  It was all because of the wall.

York Haven Dam and powerhouse. The “Wall” traverses Conewago Falls upstream to Three Mile Island to direct water to the powerhouse on the west shore of the Susquehanna River.

SOURCES

Smith, Stephen H.  2015.  #6 York Haven Paper Company; on the Site of One of the Earliest Canals in America.  York Past website www.yorkblog.com/yorkpast/2015/02/17/6-york-haven-paper-company-on-the-site-of-one-of-the-earliest-canals-in-america/  as accessed July 17, 2017.

Stranahan, Susan Q.  1993.  Susquehanna, River of Dreams.  The Johns Hopkins University Press.  Baltimore, Maryland.

Van Diver, Bradford B.  1990.  Roadside Geology of Pennsylvania.  Mountain Press Publishing Company.  Missoula, Montana.

Welcome

 Major funding for “Life in the Lower Susquehanna River Watershed: A Natural History of Conewago Falls—The Waters of Three Mile Island” is provided by…

denying an aging man the consumer comforts of adequate heat, modern appliances, reliable transportation, and a good haircut…

and by…

collecting loose change in a dangerous alley.