It is amazing to think of the great-horned owl as a globally distributed bird. When we hear then hooting in our local woods, it is easy to forget their range extends far beyond the borders of our neighborhood or even the United States. In fact, a large piece of their range classified as “year-around” is found in southern Brazil and northern Argentina (http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/great_horned_owl/lifehistory). A geographically diverse bird! Throughout their range, it is remarkable to think of the different organisms they have adapted to eat in the mountains, taiga, plains, or even jungle! Although you might traditionally think of the great-horned owl feeding on rodents or small mammals, these top-tier predators may even prey on larger raptors such as ospreys.
Great-horned owls are often hard to spot, and may perch in nearly unviewable thickets. Good opportunities to view them can be few-and-far-between, but I recently got a great chance to watch a great-horned owl. It was my first time ever observing one for a notable period of time. After nearly 45 minutes of observation, I found the hour in the life an owl to be rather uneventful, haha! However, even at that my time spent watching this majestic bird clean itself, hoot, shift its gaze to sounds in the woods, and twist its head back and forth were very unforgettable! That’s what I bring to you today :).
I was fortunate to catch some great video that you can check out here:
Aside from the video I shot a bunch of photography. This gallery below pretty much sums up the behaviors of this owl when I was there. Cheers!
When we first found this owl, it was sitting in a very, very large black spruce.
Checking out some noises
Preaning
The steely gaze
Great-horned giving me the stink eye!
The owl would call periodically, and when it did, a patch of feathers inflated under its chin.
Visually and sonically the pond was alive. Golden light of a pre-evening sun poured over the pond, and where the light fell on the far bank the sound of spring in Alaska, a loud wood frog (Rana sylvatica) chorus, echoed in the birches. Wood frogs are the only species of amphibian found in Interior Alaska, because let’s face it : there are not many species that can withstand -40 degree temperatures! In the winter, wood frogs burrow into the soil under leaves or woody debris and concentrate glucose in their blood as anti-freeze. However, the glucose only provides some relief. In the cold months with little sun, their heart stops beating, eyes freeze, blood freezes, and brain activity stops. By almost any definition the frogs would be declared dead, but when spring temperatures arrive the frogs thaw out from the inside-out (instead of the outside-in, scientists have no idea how), resume life, and jump into local ponds for reproduction. It was that yearly event that I stood in the middle of with my camera.
I waded into the ~55 degree water, and through the old vegetation of the pond. Crossing the 60 foot wide pond to where the frogs called, resulted in water mid-way up my thighs and soaked my pants. I draped a camouflage cloth over me and waited like a giant, brown heron (or maybe the swamp monster) for the frogs to start singing. When they did it started as a single croak which seemed to say “all clear”. Within no time the life of breeding wood frogs unfolded all around me. Only a few feet away, each frog that called swelled up pockets of skin along their cheeks and side, and sent a rippling well of water out from its body. I think that communication occurs both by sound and by the small waves of water, although that is just an observation. Many of the male frogs chased females while rapidly swelling their air sacs, calling, and sprinting towards females. Often their approaches seemed to be rejected. I watched as many males swam up rapidly to a female and attempt to mount, but were thwarted by an elusive mate. Often in denser vegetation, groups of frogs boiled in the water as a constant struggle to maintain a female ensued. As I watched the frogs many mosquitoes fed on their exposed heads. After seeing that, I hypothesize that frogs are an important early food source for mosquitoes. I stood for 90 minutes while my legs turned into cold stumps, and finally decided that I couldn’t take the cold water much longer. However, my 90 minutes in the water was worth it! The short video below captures just some of this behavior. Be sure to watch them call in slow motion. Enjoy!
Frogs in the spring have long been a part of my life. Growing up, my open window in the warming days would let their songs in. In the Midwest, higher frog species diversity adds a wider range of tenors and bass to the chorus. The small, 200 foot diameter “frog pond” just inside the woodline is a consistent producer of leopard frogs (bass), spring peepers (tenors), wood frogs, tree frogs (several species), and likely others. The frog pond was an important stomping ground for my brother and my nature education. Although I never got to observe the frogs very often because they were pretty elusive, we often collected eggs and tadpoles for rearing. So, finally after all these years, the opportunity to see these frogs in Alaska up close was a real treat!
A before and after comparison of a wood frog with its air sacs swollen.
I really like this wood frog in black and white!
I’m not sure why this wood frog was only able to swell one air sac. However, it kept it swelled for long periods of time, and it seemed to be bigger than those with two.
Water droplets fly from the swollen air sacs of this frog.
Success! This wood frog male will fertilize the eggs of this female as she lays them.
A quick burst and a large amount of water fly from the air sacs of this aggressively calling male.
I observed many frogs make very small noises which resulted in these large water wells. My observation, is that the water waves are also communication.
This wood frogs is the epicenter of a small tsunami.
Cuttin’ loose with both bellows
A wood frog takes a quick break between calls. My, what eyes he has!
A quick selfie of frog photography.
Want to learn more? Check out this video highlighting some ongoing University of Alaska Fairbanks research!
When the sandhill cranes arrive in the fall in Fairbanks, Alaska it is a marker of the passing of a season. It means fall is beginning, and the birds that have nested on the tundra for the summer are shipping out to warmer latitudes. If you have ever head the raucous call of the sandhill, you’ll know their presence is trumpeted for miles, and that it is unmistakable for any other sound!
Sandhill cranes are a beautiful, elegant, and striking bird. Look at that red crest and orange eye!
Of the 15 crane species in the world, sandhill cranes are the only ones which are not endangered or threatened in some way (Creamers Field Billboard). Across their global range, cranes were threatened by habitat loss and market hunting. In the early 20th century market hunters nearly exterminated whooping cranes. Their numbers dropped as low as 23 individuals in the 1940s, but thanks to the International Crane Foundation and the work of many other agencies, numbers hover around 600 currently.
Low sunlight put this crane in a mosaic of shadows.
Sandhill cranes are actually omnivores and spend their days eating grains, seeds, insects and small rodents. In fact, in larger concentrations of cranes I believe they can temporarily clear a field of pesky, small rodents. Of course that’s just me being an optimist. Sandhills can have long migrations and breed on the tundra of Canada and Alaska, but can also be found in breeding populations in the western United States (All About Birds.org)
A sandhill crane caught in the golden glow of low sunlight at Creamer’s Field, Fairbanks, AlaskaWhen flying the legs of the crane stick straight out behind them, pretty impressive if you think about it!It seems that the pastures are always greener for the sandhill somewhere. It was very normal for them to transfer feeding locations or swap groups.
Each fall hundreds of cranes pass through Creamers Field National Waterfowl Refuge . The fields and water sources there bring in many ducks, geese (snow, white-fronted, canada, cackling) and of course the Sandhill Cranes. In fact, it’s such an event that each year the Sandhill Crane Festival brings in hundreds of visitors. The cranes are fascinating to watch and the power of any large migration event such of this can be overwhelming!
A sandhill settles in among the group.
When observing the cranes there’s a lot of things to notice, and a lot of questions to answer. The cranes with chicks still maintain their family groups, and chicks may stay with the parents for up to 10 months! Also, the cranes seem to be very territorial and are always squabbling with each other. They may point their beaks straight into the area and verbally duel each other, or hop towards each other beating their wings either to intimidate or strike. I don’t know why, in an area with such plentifiul food, they are so territorial! I guess they’re a cantankerous species. If you are lucky enough to see a courting crane pair they may ‘dance’ with each other trying to win a mate.
The young-of-the-year are a noticeable shade of orange which separates them from the parents.Even though the migration is ‘on’ the young of the year still hang in family groups and learn (I presume) from their parents.
This fall I spent a lot of evenings enjoying the cranes. There is always new behavior to watch, and the roads which bisect and border the fields at Creamer’s Field offer first class seats to watch and listen. Here’s a montage of some crane behavior including the magnitude of their call, the family groups, grooming, feeding, and defending territories. The cranes departed in Mid-September along with most of their avian comrades, but I certainly will look forward to their return!
Happy Fall Everyone! The structured poem above is meant to capture the color, smells, transition, and culture of what fall means to me. But it certainly is a season that has many meanings to many people. Fall is already completed in Fairbanks, but here are a variety of fall colors taken from the Fairbanks and Denali regions with guest contributions from my Dad, Chuck Johnson. He was able to capture some wonderful colors when they visited in August!
What does fall mean to you? And has it already come-and-passed where you are? I would love to hear!
Bear Berry – Castner Glacier
(C) Chuck Johnson. Fireweed along the Denali Highway
(C) Chuck Johnson. Fall colors along the Denali Highway
(C) Chuck Johnson. This capture of a transitiioning dwarf birch is stunning!
Fall colors in a stream in Denali National Park
Trapped leaves in Denali National Park
A mosaic hillside of color in Denali National Park
A lone birch at Creamers Field, Fairbanks, Alaska
Birch Stand, Creamers Field, Fairbanks, Alaska
The Bench – a stopping spot in Creamer’s Field, Fairbanks, Alaska
Golden Glory, the Boreal Trail at Creamers Field, Fairbanks, Alaska