Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Sparrow hawk
Bell19.08 by Earl Plato
J inherited an old Peterson Field Guide. The Sparrow hawk was given the name American kestrel by Roger Tory Peterson. So this little article is about one of my favourite falcons, the kestrel. Gerry Rising, nature writer for the Buffalo News, shared the following this past Sunday. “The kestrel is indeed a tiny hawk. It is even smaller than a robin’s ten inches.” On the way to Welland from Ridgeway I see the kestrels perched on telephone lines on South Kaobel road. Rising says that the way they perch you can mistake them for mourning doves. See one up close and you can’t miss their beauty. Both males and females are very attractive. They both have bright rufous backs and tails. Both have boldly patterned heads. There are vertical gray lines on each side of the eyes. Kestrels hover 30 to 40 feet high over an open field looking for its prey in the grass. As a falcon it is designed for fast flight. Unlike accipiters such as the Sharp-shinned and Cooper’s hawks their wings are sharply pointed. All falcons dash about in a great hurry. Accipiters usually flap and glide. Remember the kestrel’s former name? As a carnivore its diet in spring and summer are grasshoppers, dragonflies, lizards, mice and voles. In late fall and winter they will feed on small mammals and yes, mostly sparrows. Hence the name I learned - Sparrow hawk. A pair of kestrels communicate with high pitched screams of “killy-killy-killy”. I am told that it is similar to killdeer calls. Look for this great little bird this year. Think small, eh.
J inherited an old Peterson Field Guide. The Sparrow hawk was given the name American kestrel by Roger Tory Peterson. So this little article is about one of my favourite falcons, the kestrel. Gerry Rising, nature writer for the Buffalo News, shared the following this past Sunday. “The kestrel is indeed a tiny hawk. It is even smaller than a robin’s ten inches.” On the way to Welland from Ridgeway I see the kestrels perched on telephone lines on South Kaobel road. Rising says that the way they perch you can mistake them for mourning doves. See one up close and you can’t miss their beauty. Both males and females are very attractive. They both have bright rufous backs and tails. Both have boldly patterned heads. There are vertical gray lines on each side of the eyes. Kestrels hover 30 to 40 feet high over an open field looking for its prey in the grass. As a falcon it is designed for fast flight. Unlike accipiters such as the Sharp-shinned and Cooper’s hawks their wings are sharply pointed. All falcons dash about in a great hurry. Accipiters usually flap and glide. Remember the kestrel’s former name? As a carnivore its diet in spring and summer are grasshoppers, dragonflies, lizards, mice and voles. In late fall and winter they will feed on small mammals and yes, mostly sparrows. Hence the name I learned - Sparrow hawk. A pair of kestrels communicate with high pitched screams of “killy-killy-killy”. I am told that it is similar to killdeer calls. Look for this great little bird this year. Think small, eh.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Toads and More Toads
Toads and More Toads by Earl Plato
Amphibian Voice spring newsletter has a little article I would like to share. It is by Donna Speers. It evokes memories of our local vernal ponds next to the C.N.R. tracks just off Garrison Road. I reproduce here part of her story.
“Mr. and Mrs. Toad swam around our pond and decided it would be a suitable place to live. They produced a never-ending string of eggs that draped over the stones, amonst the potted bulrushes and around the entire pond. Then Mrs. Toad, having done her part, hopped up the cedar ramp and into the garden with Mr. Toad still clinging tightly. He was about half her size. Mr. Toad returned to the pond alone and with the other male songsters began to sing. Their chorus rang throughout the neighbourhood and they sang us to sleep each night. They were comical to watch. If one of the males plopped into the water another would jump on its back to mate thinking it was a new female entering the pond. The male on the bottom would emit a release call. The two males quickly separated and headed in opposite directions. They would also jostle for the best spot on the log. There they would belt out one song after another to no avail as the one and only female had already left the yard.
Within days of the males leaving the pond was black with wiggling tadpoles. Over the next two weeks the tadpoles began to transform. It seemed that in no time they had developed their back legs shortly followed by their front legs. Soon there were tiny toads measuring about half an inch in lenght hopping everywhere, To me they were a miracle. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be that small with nothing to guide you but your instincts. Remember possible dangers were lurking at every hop.”
Thanks Donna for conjuring up some vivid memories.
Amphibian Voice spring newsletter has a little article I would like to share. It is by Donna Speers. It evokes memories of our local vernal ponds next to the C.N.R. tracks just off Garrison Road. I reproduce here part of her story.
“Mr. and Mrs. Toad swam around our pond and decided it would be a suitable place to live. They produced a never-ending string of eggs that draped over the stones, amonst the potted bulrushes and around the entire pond. Then Mrs. Toad, having done her part, hopped up the cedar ramp and into the garden with Mr. Toad still clinging tightly. He was about half her size. Mr. Toad returned to the pond alone and with the other male songsters began to sing. Their chorus rang throughout the neighbourhood and they sang us to sleep each night. They were comical to watch. If one of the males plopped into the water another would jump on its back to mate thinking it was a new female entering the pond. The male on the bottom would emit a release call. The two males quickly separated and headed in opposite directions. They would also jostle for the best spot on the log. There they would belt out one song after another to no avail as the one and only female had already left the yard.
Within days of the males leaving the pond was black with wiggling tadpoles. Over the next two weeks the tadpoles began to transform. It seemed that in no time they had developed their back legs shortly followed by their front legs. Soon there were tiny toads measuring about half an inch in lenght hopping everywhere, To me they were a miracle. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be that small with nothing to guide you but your instincts. Remember possible dangers were lurking at every hop.”
Thanks Donna for conjuring up some vivid memories.
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