DrTom's Woodland (photos only)

Wild turkeys in winter

Amelanchier flowers

Poisonous and psychoactive basidiomycete fungus Amanita muscaria, with an unknown psychoactive liquid

Red maple in autumn

Black-capped chickadee at cavity entrance in small red maple

It ain't July

Looking up at quaking aspen

The short, but eventful, avian calendar

(Daffodils at DrTom's.  It goes so fast; winter will be here before we know it.)

I tend to think of the year in bird seasons. April and May are the best months of the year for me because most of the species in this part of the world breed and nest during those months. June and July is fledgling time, when adults are busy feeding their still somewhat-dependent offspring, and the rest of the year is boring. It is just that by comparison, after May, it all goes downhill for me, and I begin looking forward to the following April. This is a terrible way to live, really.

As year-round residents, we have chickadees, nuthatches, cardinals, titmice, brown creepers, crows, blue jays, and woodpeckers, and some other species. Several of these are common at bird feeders stocked with sunflower seeds tended by homeowners. But now those species have become more conspicuous—they are singing and calling, prospecting for nest sites, and even building nests. The extremely high-pitched song of the brown creeper is common in my woods now. (This song is so high-pitched that some humans can not hear it). Chickadees are calling throughout the day, and I saw a pair checking out a small cavity in a dead red maple yesterday. Woodpeckers are tapping, barred owls are calling (although they do that all year), and crows certainly have an active nest by now.

Red maple and aspen are flowering now, but leaves are forming on some species. This will increase rapidly over the next couple of weeks. And, of course, this is the season for daffodils, tulips, and forsythia to bloom. Juneberry just finished flowering.  Dogwood and lilac will follow shortly.

So the locals have come alive, but we now have new members in the community, who left us last fall to go to warmer, more productive climes. For the most part, the birds that have now returned by mid-April are the so-called “short-distance migrants” that wintered in southern U.S. Song sparrows, American robins, brown-headed cowbirds, dark-eyed juncos, and accipiter hawks, are back and acting sexy. Eastern phoebes and broad-winged hawks, who have returned, came from a bit further. Phoebes can winter as far south as Mexico and broad-winged hawks can winter even further away. From the Cornell Lab of Ornithology website: “A recent study attached satellite transmitters to the backs of four Broad-winged Hawks and followed them as they migrated south in the fall. The hawks migrated an average of 7,000 km (4,350 mi) to northern South America, and traveled an average of 111 km (69 mi) each day. Once at the wintering grounds, the hawks did not move around much, staying on average within 2.6 square km (1 square mi).” And there are ruby-crowned kinglets, which just arrived at my place, but they are passing through to breed in coniferous forests farther to the north.

April is the beginning of the bird year for me. Everyone is now vocalizing, looking for their mates from last year, and locating nest sites. May will be even better, when the long-distance migrants return. The action is picking up, but I want every day to slow down. Based on my bird-oriented annual calendar, “winter” is only three months away.

Homage to Amelanchier

(A flowering Juneberry in May at DrTom's.)

One of the required trees to learn in my field biology course was a relatively insignificant species (from a timber perspective) called Juneberry, or shadbush, or serviceberry. It has several common names, but I am referring to the genus Amelanchier. The common species in our area is Amelanchier laevis, or smooth Juneberry. This shrub or small tree is in the rose family, and rarely gets more than 10 meters high. It flowers in May when the American shad (a fish) used to run up the eastern rivers, and it bears ripe fruit in June (thus, Juneberry).

The tree was always difficult for students to identify in autumn when it contained neither flowers nor fruits, so I made a big deal of how much I loved this tree. During the semester, I often heard students say in discussing the trees they were required to know from their list, “you know the one, Gavin’s favorite tree.” I thought that by exaggerating my love for this species that they would more easily remember what I wanted them to know. But I really do love this species; it is one of my favorite trees in the eastern deciduous forest. But why?

First of all, everything about Amelanchier is attractive. The gray bark with weaves of green running through it, the finely serrated leaves, the abundant white blossoms, and the purple fruits that resemble blueberries offer much. But many open-grown specimens have a growth form that reminds me of a small tree you might see in a Japanese garden, almost like a giant bonsai tree. Based on my observations, they are slow growing, adding only a few centimeters of new growth per year. Although I have never worked the wood, it is supposedly hard and durable and was used in former times as tool handles.

Second, starting about mid-June, the fruits ripen and the show begins. So, my evening ritual (you know, scotch, cigar, binoculars, and folding chair) is often spent sitting several meters away from my favorite Juneberry. Every fruit-eating bird in the area is attracted to this offering, which, of course, is how the tree disperses its seeds. Birds swallow the fruits while they are in the tree and defecate the seeds elsewhere several minutes later. American robins, gray catbirds, veerys, and cedar waxwings are the most common visitors on my property. Lat year on June 14 the fruits were not yet ripe, but the waxwings started feeding on those fruits a couple of days before. (Are those seeds ready to be dispersed yet? Are they yet viable?) This is really curious to me and it deserves further investigation. In a few days, the branches of the tree will be moving constantly with the shifting of bird bodies intent in harvesting as much as they can as rapidly as possible.

The most interesting visitor is the yellow-bellied sapsucker, the fruit-eating woodpecker with a sweet tooth. Remember that this is the species that drills small holes in a neat horizontal line in certain species of trees (like red maples), and then visits these holes later to lick up the sweet sap that oozes from them; it may also feed on insects that are attracted to the sap. For several years, I have had a pair of sapsuckers that visit my Juneberry trees as long as there is ripe fruit available.

Gray squirrels and eastern chipmunks also love these fruits and, although I have yet to witness this, I am betting that deer mice in the genus Peromyscus climb these trees at night to eat the fruits. George Petrides writes that foxes, skunks, raccoons, and black bears also relish Juneberry fruits. They are also quite edible by humans.

I have described my hobby of thinning my woodlot for various purposes. One of the objectives has been to release this sun-loving tree to fuller sunlight along my driveway so that it flowers more profusely. There are now 14-15 specimens lining my long driveway, which provide a beautiful show of flowers in May. I usually proclaim that spring has really arrived when Juneberry is in flower. Oh, I did not mention this, but an old etymology of the third common name, serviceberry, is consistent with my proclamation of spring arrival. Pioneers are said to have used the flowering of Juneberry to know that the ground had thawed sufficiently to bury those who had died during the winter—funeral services could be held at that time.

My enthusiasm for Amelanchier has not changed over the years. About all that has changed is what used to be called “Gavin’s favorite tree” is now referred to as “DrTom’s favorite tree.” Same tree, different name.