My First Celebrity Raptor Show

This is not a post about anything in the natural world.  This is a post about how truly random my life can be sometimes.

This weekend, acclaimed Minnesota rapper/spoken-word-artist Dessa played a show at Lutsen, the ski resort about 30 minutes north of me.  Max, fellow naturalist and fan of good music, randomly decided to invite her and her crew to Wolf Ridge on their way up to "meet a hawk, falcon, and owl."  They randomly agreed and next thing I knew, I was asked to do a mini raptor show for a famous singer, her two band-mates, and their significant others.

I had never heard of Dessa before this, and didn't really realize how big of a deal she was until about an hour before the show, when I mentioned to Betsey, our scheduling extraordinaire, that Dessa was on her way to meet the raptors, and she responded with "....DESSA?!!...............DESSA?!!!"  and proceeded to be unable to say any other words for about three minutes.

This super-emo picture of Ruby and me showed up on Dessa's twitter the next day.

So they came and we chatted and I introduced them to the raptors and I found these people to be a lot of fun.  Dessa asked me some of the most intelligent questions I've ever gotten from people (using big words like "taxonomically") and her bass player was legitimately (?) scared of the birds.  Dessa joked about how she will be incorporating words like "baiting", "muting", and "bumblefoot" into her next rap (all nerdy, captive raptor handler terms).  She and her bandmates were humble, gracious, and clearly appreciated the opportunity to meet these birds.  Plus I got a free autographed CD out of the deal and Dessa put all of us on the "guest list" for the show that night.

Dessa meets Hunter.

Which meant that when we arrived at Lutsen, we got to say "we're on the guest list" and they let us in for free (ignoring the minor technicality that we'd already pre-purchased our tickets).  As we entered the restaurant where the show was taking place, Dessa came up and gave us all a big hug, greeting us like old friends.  I like to think that lots of fans saw this take place and were super jealous.  I kind of felt a little bit famous that night.

Yup.  We're friends with a famous singer.  It's cool.

The show was a lot of fun.  Rap isn't my genre of choice, but I found her music to be both thoughtful and incredibly catchy.  This year, I've gotten a number of opportunities to see some of the best music Minnesota has to offer: Trampled by Turtles in November, Cloud Cult in December and Dessa.  I recommend them all.

And that's the story of how I showed our raptors to a famous singer and then got celebrity treatment for the rest of the day.

Snowshoeing to Superior

Last weekend, we decided to take advantage of our beautiful, winter wonderland (which has since been destroyed by freezing rain courtesy of 21st century, climate-changed induced weather patterns!!) and go for an early morning snowshoeing adventure.  Wolf Ridge is about four miles inland from Lake Superior, and portions of the 275-mile Superior Hiking Trail go through our site.  I've never personally hiked from Wolf Ridge to the waterfront - this seemed like a great chance to do that.

The Superior Hiking Trail: great for hiking in the summer and showshoeing in the winter.

Snowshoes are kind of a culturally significant mode of transportation in our region because of their heavy usage by the Ojibwe.  Snowshoes, as it turns out, were invented simultaneously be many different ancient cultures that had to deal with walking around in the deep snow.  The basic principal behind snowshoes it that they increase the surface area of your foot so your body weight is being spread out, thus causing you not to sink as deeply into the snow when walking.  When I take students snowshoeing, they are often disappointed to discover that you do still sink into the snow.  However, when I have them walk around with one snowshoe on and one off, they can observe the big difference the snowshoes actually make.

It's hard work, though.  For our hike, we spent about three hours on snowshoes, and that alone took us over two hours.  We started by crossing Wolf Lake, the ice of which is past twelve inches thick by now.  (I had some students out on Wolf Lake this week and we got to listen to the booming of the ice, one of my favorite winter sounds).  Snowshoes slow you down, and your movements have to be much more deliberate.  Sometimes, as I watch a large group of people snowshoe across an open area, like Wolf Lake, I amuse myself by imagining that I'm observing a zombie attack.

Naturalists snowshoeing across Wolf Lake.

We use pretty modern snowshoes, made of metal and plastic.  Over the years, many different styles of snowshoes have been utilized and designed.  The Ojibwe used wood from black ash trees because of its general flexibility.  The wood was easily bent into the snowshoe-shape.  The webbing is made from woven moose rawhide, which is quite flexible before dried.  The presences of holes in snowshoes is important, as it allows snow to fall through the shoe.

A pair of Ojibwe-style snowshoes (image from: www.canadianoutdoorequipment.com)

After bushwhacking through a couple of cedar groves, we reached the Superior Hiking Trail overlook, a destination we often take students in snowshoeing classes.  From here, we can enjoy a great view of Lake Superior, pointing out the Apostle Islands on the other side of the lake and Palisade Head to the south.  At this point, we were exploring new territory for me, following the trail to the south.  It was a good hike, with a couple of incredibly steep climbs (this is part of section 13 of the SHT, which is known for its steep bluffs).  It was a relatively quiet morning as far as wildlife sightings, but we walked through some beautiful patches of cedar, aspen, and birch trees.

Enjoying the Superior Overlook.

Eventually, we reached highway 1, at which point we removed our snowshoes and walked the remaining mile along the road.  It was a steep final descent to Crystal Cove, the secluded Lake Superior beach-front at the intersection of Highways 1 and 61.  This was my first time to Crystal Cove in the winter, and it was pretty cool to see the snow and the waves coming together.  We made a small fire and enjoyed a snack.

Crystal Cove on a cloudy, winter day.

How we managed to get ten naturalists, their bags and snowshoes back home in a single vehicle is a whole other story.

Chihuly Glass at the Dallas Arboretum

Over Christmas break, I got the chance to see a really cool art display.  Dale Chihuly makes some incredible glass structures.  I was first exposed to his art in seventh grade when we went on a day-long field trip to see his glass at the Milwaukee art museum.  A couple weeks ago, I went with some of my family to the Dallas Arboretum, which temporarily had tons of Chihuly glass interspersed throughout the park.  I was pretty impressed - I enjoyed the juxtaposition of the bizarre, abstract art intermixed with the usual trees and plants and things.

Here are some of my favorite photos from our morning:

I also got a chance to see a number of Texas birds I'd never seen before, including this tufted titmouse:

Christmas Bird Count

The tall pines of Isabella, MN, make for a perfect winter wonderland landscape.

This past week, my return to the North Woods of Minnesota has been full of winter fun.  The snow came down non-stop for three days, creating plentiful opportunities for cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, boot hockey, and really terrible driving conditions.  On the 30th of December, I got to participate in a winter tradition that stretches way beyond the North Woods, or even Minnesota - the annual Christmas bird count.

At 9:00AM, I gathered with ten other birders in a small café in Isabella, MN, about twenty minutes inland from Finland.  There were ten teams total, comprising about 40 birders.  Together, our job was to survey a circle (15-mile diameter) around the Isabella township for all the birds we could see.  Each team was assigned a section of the circle, our team responsible for the eastern quarter.  This year, over 2,000 circles across the United States and Canada were or will be surveyed between December 14 and January 5.  The Christmas Bird Count is a citizen science survey, in that anyone who wants to volunteer can participate and gather data.  While the surveying techniques are not scientifically fool-proof, the data gathered from this survey for the last 113 years have been invaluable in a number of areas of ornithological research, especially conservation.

After assigning our areas to survey, I joined MJ (fellow Wolf Ridge second-year naturalist), Jenna (WR first-year naturalist), Carrie (WR staff member and marketing extraordinaire), and Margie (former WR naturalist and bird banding mentor) as we drove to a couple of different trails in our zone.  The morning mostly consisted of birding on foot as we hiked different areas, stopping frequently to look for movement and listen for bird sounds.  The trails we hiked were unbelievably quiet and still.  While hiking, we only spotted two downy woodpeckers all morning.  However, while driving back for our lunch break, we stopped and saw seven black-capped chickadees, two red-breasted nuthatches, two more downy woodpeckers, and a red crossbill (a new bird for me!) perched on top of a spruce tree, calling loudly.

Winter birding.

The downy woodpeckers were particularly exciting for us to spot because of some additional research that was taking place.  Some researchers are looking to learn more about what species of trees downy woodpeckers tend to feed on.  So when we spotted a downy woodpecker, we not only recorded the sighting, but also what species of tree it was perched on if displaying feeding behavior (hopping around, pecking at the tree, etc.)  For the record, we saw two feeding on birch trees, and two on dead aspen trees.

A somewhat blurry downy woodpecker feeding on a birch tree.

In the afternoon, I got to strap on some cross-country skis for the first time this winter and Carrie and I surveyed a trail that would have been otherwise inaccessible.  It was awesome to be back on skis and, even though the trail was not groomed for XC skis, a number of snow-mobiles had thoughtfully packed the snow down for us.  Again, a fairly still afternoon - one black-capped chickadee and three red-breasted nuthatches added to our list.  Nonetheless, it was a beautiful area to ski in especially as the sun started to set and the light hit the snow on the trees.

"Almost looks like a Dr. Seuss book." -Carrie Anderson

We spent the last hour car birding along some of the roads that we hadn't covered yet.  As night set in, we got to add two more birds to our list - two ruffed grouses perched high up in trees, silhouetted against the darkening sky.  At the end of the day, all of the Isabella birders gathered for lasagna and the sharing of our data.  In total 865 birds from 20 different species were counted, which is slightly lower than average for the Isabella area bird count.  Nonetheless, it was a great day of birding and enjoying the beautiful landscape created by the snowfall - the North Woods of Minnesota at its finest.

A ruffed grouse perched in the top of a tree at the end of the day.

Kinglets Keeping Warm

I'm in Duluth, and have been here all day, killing time until my 2:30 AM shuttle to the Twin Cities airport, from where I will fly home (currently located in McKinney, TX) to spend a couple of weeks with my family for the holidays.  Today, I've had the joy of experiencing the blizzard (more snow accumulated today than in the entire month of December 2011) from the windows of various coffee shops and fast-food restaurants.

Luckily, I had some friends to keep me company for most of the day.

While hanging out and sipping hot chocolates, I've been finishing up Winter World by Bernd Heinrich, which is all about how animals deal with the weather we're currently experiencing here (see earlier blog post about turtles).  His inspiration for this book was observing golden-crowned kinglets, little birds that spend winters in very cold places.  How do they do it?

The scientific name for the kinglet genus is "regulus," which means "little king," a reference to the fact that kinglets appear to have a crown on their heads.  In the case of golden-crowned kinglets, that crown is golden and, in males, with a tinge of fiery red.  Kinglets are an evolutionarily distinct group of birds, and there are two species native to North America, the other being the ruby-crowned kinglet (guess what color its "crown" is!)  The golden-crowned kinglets are found throughout North America and Canada, meaning that many spend their winters in blustery New England.  How does such a small bird survive such cold weather?

A male golden-crowned kinglet I removed from a mist net while bird banding at Hawk Ridge in September, 2012.

One incredible aspect of the golden-crowned kinglets' winter survival skills is that they begin nesting in late March and April, when snowstorms are still common in New England.  Their nests are built inside of coniferous trees, deep enough that the overhanging branches will protect the nest from snow.  Furthermore, if snow covers a tree containing a nest, it adds an insulating layer from the cold.  Kinglet nests have been observed to contain a number of materials, one of the most common of which is grouse feathers.  The grouse feathers are the perfect size and shape to add significant warmth to the nest.  When it comes time to lay the eggs, kinglets lay 8-11, so many that they typically have two layers of eggs in the nest.  Furthermore, as soon as the hatchlings are old enough to stay warm on their own, a mother kinglet will get to work on a second nest, where she will lay another brood, a phenomenon known as "double clutching."  This sounds challenging, but 80% of kinglet hatchlings survive!

In order to keep their metabolism high enough to stay warm in the cold months, golden-crowned kinglets spend dawn until dusk foraging for food nonstop (the male apparently foraging for the female while she is on the nest).  The fat reserves they accumulate from this amount to about 0.3 grams, not nearly enough to survive a cold, winter's night.  How these 5-6 gram birds do that is still shrouded in mystery.

The two most likely spots a kinglet could lose heat is through the eyes and beak - thus, one simple method to keep warm is burying their "faces" in feathers when sleeping.  Also, kinglets appear to travel in groups of two or three.  Three kinglets huddling together during a cold night would prevent up to 37% of the heat loss they may otherwise experience individually.  However, it seems that the most important factor to keeping kinglets warm at night is shelter.  Where exactly they go is the question.  Heinrich suspected they were staying in abandoned squirrel nests, for example.  However, after following groups of kinglets near his cabin in Maine, it appeared that the kinglets did not have one set place to stay warm overnight.  Rather, because the kinglets were foraging until the moment it got dark, they were finding many different places to stay based on where they were when the sun set.

As I watch the snow falling outside the window of this cozy coffee shop, it is amazing to me to imagine a five-gram bird trying to stay warm out there tonight.  It doesn't surprise me that our knowledge of how they accomplish this is still minimal.  At the end of the day, I think Heinrich says it best: "They defy the odds and the laws of physics, and prove that the fabulous is possible."

Training Korppi

Korppi's first day at Wolf Ridge

At the beginning of the school-year, a new education animal joined the team at Wolf Ridge, a common raven we named "Korppi" (the Finnish word for "raven").  Working with Korppi quickly proved to be an entirely different situation than working with the education raptors.  Ravens are significantly smarter than raptors and require daily enrichment.

Korppi's enrichment comes in a number of forms.  Every day, we try to present her with a different challenge for obtaining her food, whether that involves hiding it somewhere in her enclosure, putting inside of some sort of puzzle-container, or simply giving her something that is challenging to eat (like an apple or a pumpkin).  Enrichment also comes in the form of training, which is something that I've been working with her on a daily basis.

When she first arrived, Korppi needed to simply become comfortable with me and learn to associate me with positive experiences.  So, I sat in the corner of her mew and threw raisins for her to eat.  Eventually, she would come closer and closer to me until she was eating raisins right next to me.  Then, she spent a couple of days eating raisins off of my shoes before she finally worked up the courage to take them right out of my fingers.

Korppi tentatively investigating a pine-cone full of raisins

My next project was to crate-train her; that is, train her to voluntarily go into a travel crate so we can take her in and out of her enclosure.  This started off pretty good, but we reached a point where Korppi was refusing to enter the crate (even though she clearly knew what I wanted) and was beginning to get aggressive with me.  I figured out that we hadn't built up enough trust together yet, especially since her only experience with crates up to this point was being involuntarily stuffed into and out of one before she arrived at Wolf Ridge.  Her negative association with crates coupled with our quickly fading trust with each other created a situation that was not working for either of us.

At this point, it was time to focus on building trust together, so I spent the next month training her to perch on a scale perch during which I fed her lots of raisins.  Throughout the course of the month, I began to notice a change in our sessions as Korppi became more relaxed with me, nipping at my fingers less and less.  I also became more relaxed and I think my awareness of my body language contributed to our progress.

And then, today happened.  As Korppi was perched on her scale perch, I had my arm extended just below the perch and without any prompting, she stepped onto my arm.  I was completely caught off guard and made sure to reward her immediately.  It was an exciting moment - a testament to the trust we've finally built with each other.  She stepped up on my arm five or six more times today without any hesitation.

A moment I'm always going to remember

Now that she trusts me enough to step up onto my arm, we can move forward with some other training activities when I get back from Christmas break.  Where will our training sessions go from here?  Sometimes, it seems like that is more Korppi's decision than mine.

Chicken Butchering

"Everyone who eats meat should get warm blood on their hands at least once a year." -Kurt Mead

In my attempts to learn more about food and how it gets to my dinner plate, naturalist friend Nikki and I decided to take up an opportunity to try out chicken butchering and preparation.  Kurt Mead, resident odonatalogist, ice fisherman, hunter, craftsman, baker, and all-around awesome guy, invited us over for his family's annual chicken butchering.  The Meads raise around 50 chickens every year, which they then use to feed their family (and the occasional family friend).  They're a great example of an environmentally conscious family in their decisions about where their meat comes from.

1. Butchering: The first step of the chicken butchering process is the most uncomfortable, in that it is the actual killing of the chickens.  There are a lot of different things I could say about this.  This was the first time I ever killed anything bigger than a fly, so I was a little unsure about how I was going to react.  However, once there in the situation, the actual act of butchering was much easier than I expected.  These chickens were clearly raised to be killed for meat and I recognize that in order to eat meat, someone has to kill it.  I think Kurt's quote is true - if you can't take responsibility for your meat, than you probably should think twice about eating it.

The killing is surprisingly easy.  A chicken is grabbed, hung upside down from its legs and then the neck is cut with one smooth slice of the knife.  The chicken is killed instantly and you just have to give it some time for the blood to empty out.

2. Deplucking: This was weirdly my favorite part of the process.  The chicken is submerged in hot water for about a minute to loosen up the feathers.  Then the chicken is placed in the deplucker, a machine Kurt personally built to expedite this process.  It's a large tub with rubber fingers coming out of the sides and a spinner on the bottom.  By spinning the chicken around the fingers and spraying it down with a hose, all of the feathers magically come off - it was awesome.

Nikki soaking a chicken before putting it in the deplucker.  Kurt supervising.

3. Gutting: Removing the innards of the chicken takes awhile, but this was pretty easy for me.  Having gutted hundreds of mice and small birds for our resident raptors, I've become quite familiar with the inner workings of animal organs.  After cutting off the legs, and the "pope's nose" (a slang term for the tail/butt), you basically just stick your hand in the chicken and start taking out the organs.  Chicken by chicken, we removed the intestines, gizzard, heart, lungs, liver, and crop.

Nikki pulling out a chicken esophagus.

4. Rinsing and Packaging: Once the chicken is all cleaned out, it's pretty easy to rinse it out and package it up.  The chickens are then put in the freezer and the Mead family now has enough chicken to last them the entire year.

Fully prepped chickens also make great hand puppets!

Kurt kindly let me take a chicken home for my own freezer.  I'm looking forward to cooking it as well. How often does someone get to go from having a live animal to having a meal on his/her plate and experience all the steps in between?