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March 24, 2005 - Our vernal visitorsOfficial Newspaper of Southold Town Welcome, vernal visitors Focus on Nature By Paul Stoutenburgh I can't remember when I first became aware of the signs of spring. Probably it was when I was 8 or 9 years old and used to go down to the channel in the evening with my dad, where he'd try for weakfish. He used a tarred line with a piece of squid on a hook at the bottom and then another about two or three feet up. He'd stand on the edge of the water and whirl the heavy, sinkered Tine around and around and let it go out into the channel. Then he'd stand there with the line taut in his hand, waiting 'or a bite. I couldn't stand still for that long, so I'd go look for things to do. If it was high tide and the right time, I knew where to find the horseshoe crabs that came up to the beach edge to lay their eggs. This was probably when I realized things were changing and the change was called spring. Of course, we realized the snows had gone and the cold weather and ice were gone, but it was the coming of the weakfish and horseshoe crabs that really planted the idea of seasonal changes in me. Every house should come with crocuses planted around it (above). After a long, snowy winter, their bright colors give renewed hope for better, warmer days ahead. Another early flower that tells us spring is surely on its way: colt's foot (below), an introduced weed that looks very much like a dandelion. The bright yellow flowers appear as soon as the ground begins to thaw. Times /Review photo by Barbara Stoutenburgh Probably by now most of you have crocuses blossoming in some sheltered spot alongside the house, by the garage or at the edge of your property. Crocuses are always a joy to see; their colors are so bold. Then, of course, there are the snowdrops, with their whitish globular flowers, telling us spring is on its way. Our daffodils are three or four inches out of the ground, and it won't be long before they give their yellow joy to our gardens and pathways where we planted them. They have been waiting all winter for the frozen ground to thaw. Some years ago, Barbara and I got a call from a lady in Orient about a snowy owl that was on her roof. It didn't take us long to head to Orient, but by the time we got there the owl had left. Never giving up, we combed the area in hopes of seeing this handsome northern visitor. In our search we walked through a barren farm field and came across a dandelion -like flower. This yellow flower had few or no leaves and its stem had scales on it. This was new to me, so I took one or two pictures for identification. Later back home, we found it to be coltsfoot, a native of Europe and the U.K. and introduced into the Americas, as so many of our wayside plants are. So here was a first for me and such an early bloomer at that; another sign of spring. Oh, yes, we did find the snowy owl some five houses away and photographed it. The Suffolk Times I Welcome, vernal visitors For those of you who know of a freshwater wet, marshy area, you'll find skunk cabbage has already blossomed and poked its flower head out of the frozen ground in hopes of attracting the first flying insects to pollinate its brown - cupped flower. Skunk cabbage has to capture the sun early and do its growing early, for it will soon be shaded over by the trees of the wet areas — the tupelo, the swamp maple and others. It is in these wet areas that we find vernal ponds, where the cold- blooded salamanders have already indulged In courtship and mating. Their jelly -like masses of eggs vouch for their having been there. One salamander that comes to mind is the beautiful spotted salamander, with its blackish body sprinkled with yellow spots. They grow anywhere from three to five inches long. I'm sure there are those who would say, "So what? What good are salamanders? You can't eat them." No, you don't eat them, but they are part of the system that makes our world what it is today. They are like the multitude of parts that go into your car. Some parts you can run without, like door handles, rearview mirrors, turn signals, etc., but its nice to have them and it makes the car the better and safer product. And so it is with salamanders — they make the world a better place just because they are there. Let me clarify what I mean by a vernal pond. These are ponds that are filled with water in the winter and spring but eventually dry up in the summer. It's during that period of fulfillment that the salamanders take advantage of them as a place to lay their eggs. They are assured no fish or other predators will get their eggs before they hatch, and a new generation of salamanders will have left the pond long before it dries up. A typical place to see these vernal ponds is Moores Woods in Greenport, and I'm sure in other places like Riverhead, Aquebogue and Wading River. If we were upstate, let's say in the Catskills, the sign of spring there would be the sap flow in the sugar maples. The sap houses would be burning their logs and boiling down the sap to make maple syrup, that wonderful, sweet tasting syrup that makes the dullest of pancakes come alive. As I write in front of the big picture window, I see the red - tailed hawks have paired off and are now sitting next to each other on the very top of my windmill. It won't be long before their eggs are laid and a new generation of red -tails will come forth. You who live near the creeks and bays can now see the mallards, black ducks, bufflehead, mergansers and many other waterfowl putting on their antics of courtship. This is their time to come together. For those of you who have bird feeders, you'll see squabbles amongst the cardinals, one chasing the other out of its territory. Even the woodpeckers — our little downy is chasing after a female, all with the one universal goal of reproducing the species. I can't remember when I've had so many people call about robins on their lawn or in their holly tree or by the roadside. Groups of 20, 30, and at one place even 50 robins were reported. These were not over - wintering robins, which we have a few of each year, but true pioneers of spring. Here's another harbinger of spring, a shorebird that doesn't visit the shore but rather those wet, boggy areas where walking becomes a soggy adventure. Here we'll find the woodcock. This chunky, long- billed bird is noted for its elaborate courtship. I only wish you could get to one of its display areas and see and hear the aerial courtship the woodcock puts on. The best time is from late February to early April, and if possible in the evening, with a full moon. The male bird will strut in front of the female with soft love songs only a woodcock would know. Then It bursts into flight, climbing to a height of 50 to 100 feet, all the time giving out with little twitterings of "peent, peent." These love calls are heard throughout the courtship display. Once the male reaches a height of 100 feet or more, it then spirals down, calling all the time, until it reaches the ground, where it again starts strutting in front of the female. Now there's a true sign of spring. Page 2 of 3 h4: / /www2.timesreview.com/ST /community /282909757837916.php 3/24/2005 e Suffolk Times • March 24, 2005 Our ve can't remember when I first became aware of the signs of spring. Probably it was when I was 8 or 9 years old and used to go down to the channel in the - vening with my dad, where he'd try for weakfish. He used a tarred line with a piece of squid on a hook at the bottom and then another about two or three feet up. He'd stand on the edge of the water and whirl the heavy, sinkered line around and around and let it go out into the channel. Then he'd stand there with the line taut in his hand, waiting for a bite. I couldn't stand still for that long, FOCUS so I'd go look for things to do. If it O N was high tide and the right time, I NATURE knew where to find the horse- by Paul shoe crabs that Stoutenburgh came up to the beach edge to lay their eggs. This was probably when I realized things were changing and the change was called spring. Of course, we realized the snows had gone and the cold weather and ice were gone, but it was the coming of the weakfish and horseshoe crabs that really plant- ed the idea of seasonal changes in me. Probably by now most of you have crocuses blossoming in some sheltered spot alongside the house, by the garage or at the edge of your property. Crocuses are always a joy to see; their colors are so bold. Then, of course, there are the snowdrops, with their whitish globular flowers, telling us spring is on its way. Our daffodils are three or four inches out of the ground, and it won't be long before they give their yel- low joy to our gardens and pathways where we planted them. They have been waiting all winter for the frozen around to thaw. iaal visitors Times /Review photo by Barbara Stoutenburgh Every house should come with crocuses planted around it (above). After a long, snowy winter, their bright colors give renewed hope for better, warmer days ahead. Another early flower that tells us spring is surely on its way: colt's foot (below), an introduced weed that looks very much like a dandelion. The bright vellow flowers appear as soon as the around beains to thaw. Some years ago, Barbara and I got a call from a lady in Orient about a snowy owl that was on her roof. It didn't take us long to head to Orient, but by the time we got there the owl had left. Never giving up, we combed the area in hopes of seeing this hand- some northern visitor. In our search we walked through a barren farm field and came across a dandelion - like flower. This yellow flower had few or no leaves and its stem had scales on it. This was new to me, so I took one or two pictures for identification. Lat- er back home, we found it to be colts - foot, a native of Europe and the U.K. and introduced into the Americas, as so many of our wayside plants are. So here was a first for me and such an early bloomer at that; another sign of spring. Oh, yes, we did find the snowy owl some five houses away and pho- tographed it. For those of you who know of a freshwater wet. marshv area_ vnu'll somed and poked its flower head out of the frozen ground in hopes of attracting the first flying insects to pollinate its brown- cupped flower. Skunk cabbage has to capture the sun early and do its growing early, for it will soon be shaded over by the trees of the wet areas — the tupelo, the swamp maple and others. It is in these wet areas that we find vernal ponds, where the cold - blooded salamanders, have already indulged in courtship and mating. Their jelly- like masses of eggs vouch for their having been there. One salamander that comes to mind is the beautiful spotted salamander, with its black- ish body sprinkled with yellow spots. They grow anywhere from three to I'm sure there are those who would say, "So what? What good are salamanders? You can't eat them." No, you don't eat them, but they are part of the system that makes our world what it is today. They are like the multitude of parts that go into your car. Some parts you can run without, like door handles, rearview mirrors, turn sig- nals, etc., but it's nice to have them and it makes the caj the better and safer product. And so it is with salamanders — they make the world a better place just because they are there. Let me clarify what I mean by a vernal pond. These are ponds that are filled with water in the winter and spring but eventually dry up in the summer. It's during t at peno of fulfillment that the salamanders take advantage of them as a place to lay their eggs. They are assured no fish or other predators will get their eggs before they hatch, and a new genera- tion of salamanders will have left the pond long before it dries up. A typi- cal place to see these vernal ponds is Moores Woods in Greenport, and I'm sure in other places like Riverhead, Aquebogue and Wading River. If we were upstate, let's say in the Catskills, the sign of spring there would be the sap flow in the sugar maples. The sap houses would be burning their logs and boiling down the sap to make maple syrup, that wonderful, sweet tasting syrup that makes the dullest of pancakes come alive. As I write in front of the big picture window, I see the red - tailed hawks have paired off and are now sitting next to each other on the very top of my windmill. It won't be long before their eggs are laid and a new genera- tion of red -tails will come forth. You who live near the creeks and bays can now see the mallards, black ducks, bufflehead, mergansers and many other waterfowl putting on their antics of courtship. This is their time to come together. For those of you who have bird feeders, you'll see squabbles amongst the cardinals, one chasing the other out of its territory. Even the woodpeckers — our little downy is chasing after a female, all with the one universal goal of repro- ducing the species. I can't remember when I've had so many people call about robins on their lawn or in their holly tree or by the roadside. Groups of 20, 30, and at one place even 50 robins were report- ed. These were not over - wintering robins, which we have a few of each year, but true pioneers of spring. Here's another harbinger of spring, a shorebird that doesn't visit the shore but rather those wet, boggy areas where walking becomes a soggy adventure. Here we'll find the wood- cock. This chunky, long -billed bird is noted for its elaborate courtship. I only wish you could get to one of its display areas and see and hear the aerial courtship the woodcock puts on. The best time is from late Febru- ary to early April, and if possible in the evening, with a full moon. The male bird will strut in front of the female with soft love songs only a woodcock would know. Then it bursts into flight, climbing to a height of 50 to 100 feet, all the time giving out with little twitterings of "peent, peent "These love calls are heard throughout the courtship display. Once the male reaches a height of 100 feet or mote, it then spirals down, calling all the time, until it reaches the ground, where it again starts strutting in front of the female. Now there's a true sign of shrine.