LOOK FOR: Yellow-Bellied Sapsuckers

Photo credit: Beth Fishkind

As we get all excited about the sap running, so do other critters. Perhaps first among them is the yellow-bellied sapsucker, who winters in the south. Around now, the sapsuckers start migrating north, following this rich food source as each successive latitude warms up enough to start the flow.

Sapsuckers make a series of round holes in a tree's bark, usually lined up in efficient little rows. They then lap up the sap that comes out -- sometimes returning to holes over and over as the sap continues to ooze.

In addition to their their distinctive holes, sapsuckers are a distinctive-looking bird. Like other woodpeckers, they've got mottled black and whitish feathers on their back and wings. Both males and females have a red spot on the top of their head; males also have a red throat. The belly has just a hint of yellow that you won't be able to detect without exactly the right light -- the picture above may be the yellowest I've ever seen.

Photo credit: New Jersey Birds

The yellow-bellied sapsucker is considered a "keystone" species by some ecologists because many other birds rely on them. It's a hard time of year to find food, and other species -- including kinglets, warblers, phoebes, and even hummingbirds -- will follow behind the sapsuckers to lap up sap or insects.

But sapsuckers don't subsist entirely on sugar -- good thing, because the sap doesn't flow all year.  The sapsucker may also make rectangular holes that allow them to get to the tree's phloem, which they eat. And, like other woodpeckers, they eat a lot of insects. Even when the sap is running, many insects either get uncovered by drilling into the tree, or are themselves attracted to the sap.

But no other woodpecker in our area makes such systematic holes in the trees. If you see a tidy little row, it was probably a sapsucker.

Photo credit: we'moon in the woods

In the wild: You can find sapsuckers throughout the open woods of our region. If you see some holes actively oozing sap, hang out quietly for a little while and see who comes by.

In your yard: Don't worry, sapsuckers generally do not cause serious damage to trees -- the wounds they make are pretty shallow. Sapsuckers come to the large oak tree in our backyard all the time, and it's going strong.

We read of one photographer who attracted sapsuckers to his yard by drilling holes in an upright log and filling them with corn syrup. Cheating? You decide. It must have been quite a sugar rush for the birds!

Have you seen sapsuckers lately? Let us know.


Like the photos in this post? Mouse over for credits; a click takes you to the photographer on Flickr.

LOOK FOR: Skunk Cabbage, First Flower of the Year

If you are afflicted with melancholy at this season, go to the swamp and see the brave spears of skunk-cabbage buds already advanced toward a new year...There is no can’t nor cant to them. They see over the brow of winter’s hill. They see another summer ahead.  -- Henry David Thoreau

Photo credit: gareandkitty

So much of the diversity in the natural world is the result of plants and animals figuring out how to survive in territory where others can't. A few weeks ago, we talked about rock tripe and how it manages to pluck enough moisture and nutrients from the air that it can colonize rock surfaces. Today, we bring you skunk cabbage -- which not only survives in a wetland environment many plants find inhospitable, but manages to attract pollinators in late winter, when nothing else is flowering.

To attract those pollinators, skunk cabbage relies more on guile than on charm. The skunk cabbage flower is no sweet-smelling bull's eye like most of the flowers we'll see later in the year. In fact, it stinks. Somehow, this plant has figured out how to make the molecules cadaverine (normally put off by rotting flesh) and skatole (otherwise found in scat). And with them, it attracts flies and beetles seeking a meal.

Photo credit: cyanocorax

The flowers continue their deception with a streaky reddish-purple spathe (the hood-shaped bract around the flowers) that is not unlike the color of carrion these insects are seeking. Inside that hood is a spadix made up of dozens of flowers, which get inadvertently pollinated by insects seeking a stinky bite to eat.

And skunk cabbage has one more trick up its sleeve (or should we say, spathe). Amazingly, it produces its own heat -- it may be 50 degrees or more above the ambient air temperature when the female flowers are in full bloom. This brings in more insects. For one thing, the warmth makes the stinky carrion smells more volatile. And insects might expect a piece of carrion to be warm, because of the heat released by the bacteria that are breaking it down.

Photo credit: Hljod.Huskona

But some insects just seem to want a little vacation from winter, like the rest of us do. Skunk cabbage can be warm enough to melt snow and ice, which surely feels good to insects trying to make a living at this time of year. The flowering season for skunk cabbage can vary by the weather, but in the Washington DC area they can start flowering in January and may go as late as March.

So, if you've been feeling the melancholy of the season, or having trouble seeing the summer ahead...it's a great time to start looking for flowers.

Photo credit: Colin Purrington

In the wild: Skunk cabbage tends to grow in relatively flat areas that stay wet or muddy for most of the year. Look along small streams and seeps -- perhaps even growing in shallow water. There are many patches of skunk cabbage in Rock Creek Park and lots of other local parks. You may have noticed it in the summer with its large clumps of 2-foot-long leaves growing close to the ground. Right now you won't see much hint of the leaves -- you're just looking for the purplish spathes poking up from the ground.

In your yard: You won't have much luck growing skunk cabbage unless you've got a wetland in your backyard. If you do, go for it -- skunk cabbage are deer resistant, and that foliage is hard to beat.

LOOK FOR: Maple Sap (and Pancakes)

Photo credit: sighthound

Every spring, as temperatures rise, trees start to wake up from their dormancy. They've been storing energy  all winter as starch in their wood. But now, they want to use it to start producing leaves. And the way they get that energy to their leaves? Sap.

There's a particular window of opportunity for maple sap that is determined by temperature. When the temperature of the wood rises to the mid-30s, enzymes start to convert the stored starch into sugar. And once the tree warms up to about 45 degrees, the starch stops converting into sugar. In between, when days are relatively warm but the nights are relatively cold, pressure builds up in the tree, and the sap comes pouring out of any wounds -- particularly a wound that was put there intentionally to direct that sap into a bucket.

Photo credit: Friends Central School

If you taste the sap when it comes out of a tree, it will be only very slightly sweet; the sap is usually less than 3 percent sugar. In contrast, maple syrup is typically around 66 percent sugar. To get from 3 to 66 percent, you have to boil off an enormous amount of water. A single tap may release 10 to 20 gallons of sap from a tree over the several weeks that the sap is running. But that 20 gallons of sap boils down to less than a gallon of syrup. No wonder it's so expensive!

Photo credit: Lolly Knit

Several local parks have demonstrations of making maple syrup -- browse our calendar for many of them. But perhaps most noteworthy is the one that's going on Feb 20-21 at Wheaton Regional Park (11 to 3 on both Saturday and Sunday). They'll have someone to explain the whole process and opportunities to taste both fresh sap and finished maple syrup, the latter ladled over little pancakes for your tasting pleasure. Weather permitting, they'll have a vat of sap boiling over the fire all weekend. We may see you there!

Do you have any maple syrup stories to share? Leave us a comment.

Like the photos in this post? Mouse over for credits; a click takes you to the photographer on Flickr.

LOOK FOR: Juncos, Here For Our Warm Winter

As we look forward to spring with great anticipation, it's good to remember the junco -- who thinks our winters are balmy. Juncos generally breed further north, coming down to the DC area from about October through mid-March to enjoy our milder weather. Based on reports of the bird from Virginia, early taxonomists gave it the Latin name Junco hyemalis, or winter junco. We have to wonder what Canadians think of that.

Actually, Junco hyemalis is more often referred to as the Dark-eyed Junco, perhaps as a nod to our friends in the north. In addition to their dark eyes, juncos have a white belly and a light-colored pinkish beak that stand out against their otherwise slate-grey body.  They've also got white in their outer tailfeathers, which you may notice especially when they're in flight. That white gives the junco some camouflage in the snow. They may not need it so much here, but their winter range includes places as cold as the Dakotas -- which still beats spending the winter in northern Saskatchewan.

Wherever they are, juncos generally hang out on the ground -- they even nest on the ground most of the time (though not until they get to their summer homes). Their plumage is well designed for this habitat and often makes them hard to see. So, it can be helpful to keep an ear out for their songs and calls. They make several different trills and chipping noises. Examples of both are here and here.

In the wild: Look on especially on forest floors as you're hiking, but in the winter juncos can also be in fields and roadsides as they forage for food. Keep an eye out for them hopping around and pecking in the leaf litter, or flying into the underbrush to get away from you.

In your yard: About three quarters of a junco's diet comes from seeds. That makes it a good chance that you'll see them at a birdfeeder -- or, even more likely, foraging among the seeds that have spilled onto the ground. Without a birdfeeder, we've seen them foraging on the ground in our yard in the leaf litter, but not very frequently.

Any other tips for spotting juncos? Have you seen any recently? Let us know!

Like the photos in this post? Mouse over for credits; a click takes you to the photographer on Flickr.

Snow!

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you some pictures we took this morning along the Northwest Branch Trail off Colesville Road. It was such a treat to be out there early -- there was only one other set of human footprints, but lots of fox, deer, and rabbit tracks. In fact, Matt managed to see a rabbit before it hopped away from us.

Have you been having your own snow-based adventures? We'd love to hear about them!