That’s our weather of late. But sitting in my snug office, just steps from soup, sourdough, coffee, and more… I’ve no reason to complain. The weather may be harsh, but I’m not suffering.
Can the same be said of the wildlife I watch through my window?
Continue reading So Much for SharingImage Credits: Carol Doeringer.
But that’s not what this juvenile Bald Eagle is watching. Perched on the high bluff behind our Lake Allegan home, the raptor has a sweeping view of the water below. That view includes Eagle Island.
You can probably guess how that island got its name.
Continue reading From Shallows to Swamp?Image Credits: Carol Doeringer.
I don’t picture wildlife muttering silently about insufferable snow and icy wind. Instinct and biology play key roles in keeping creatures warm and fed. But animals are intelligent, too. Do they think about the seasonal discomfort?
That’s what I’m wondering as I sit by my fireplace, snug in my home and shielded from the cold and snow.
Image Credits: Carol Doeringer.
I see Bald Eagles often, usually some distance from the house. When eagles do land nearby, they’ll scoot if I simply step to a window. So when I saw the eagle in my tree, I stood back from the glass, as usual. But after an hour, I just had to try for a closer look through my camera.
With tiny, slow steps I moved to the sliding glass door. The eagle didn’t seem to notice. Then I inched the door open a crack. The bird didn’t budge. I pushed again, just enough to get the lens outside.
The door groaned, and the eagle turned and looked my way.
Continue reading Perched to Ponder
Image Credits: Carol Doeringer, pacificnorthwestkate.
poop.
I was never particularly enthralled by bird poop. I mean, ick. On the car. On the lawn chairs. And once, years ago, on my shoulder. Besides the occasional irritation at a windshield splat, I never gave bird droppings any serious thought.
That is, until yesterday. I happened to be filming when a young Bald Eagle lifted his tail.
Even 400 yards away, they were unmistakable: A Bald Eagle’s head and tail. The bird was on a log that had become embedded in the muddy perimeter of Eagle Island. That’s the aptly named bit of high land that remained after our stretch of the Kalamazoo River was dammed decades ago. Eagles are a common sight here. Only, this eagle was behaving somewhat oddly.
Have you ever watched a scratching squirrel? Those little paws move incredibly fast, and I swear, their under-the-armpit maneuvers mimic taking a shower. I wrote a blog post about itchy squirrels a year ago, surmising that their den was infested with fleas. This past week, quite a few creatures’ itchy behavior caught my eye: the squirrels, a juvenile bald eagle, adult and juvenile swans, and two kinds of ducks—goldeneyes and mergansers.
So, what’s with all the picking, poking, biting, and scratching?
At least, that’s what I thought I saw. I had been watching two juveniles for about twenty minutes. Motionless in the frigid wind howling over Lake Allegan’s ice, the eagles appeared to be scanning for fish.
That was unusual, however. Our eagles typically conduct surveillance from high in the nearby trees. An island—aptly named Eagle Island by Michigan’s Department of Natural Resources—provides a broad view of the surrounding water. But these birds stood next to a narrow gap in the ice. Their horizontal line of sight would allow only a limited view of open water flowing in the lake’s main channel.
Then, as I pondered, one of the eagles dive-bombed the other. Perhaps they were not fishing, after all. Were they having an avian tiff?
That seems an apt descriptor for a Bald Eagle. Lacking any natural predators, these powerful birds have little to fear in our placid Lake Allegan neighborhood.
That doesn’t mean they’re not wary. We’ve learned not to dash to the window when an eagle lands in one of our trees. They notice the tiniest motion and move on. You can picture me tiptoeing across the room like a Great Blue Heron, trying to sneak to my camera unnoticed. If I succeed, I shoot video through the glass, lest I make noise moving the sliding glass door.
A few weeks ago, an eagle stopped by. True to form, it saw my careful approach and bolted. But the creature didn’t go far. It took a short hop to the aptly named Eagle Island opposite our home. He was far enough away that he didn’t care if I stepped out of the house, but (barely) in range to capture some decent video.
The entertainment started when I realized he wasn’t the only bird perched on an island branch.
They huddle. They puff their feathers, tucking head and feet into the fluff. And they shiver.
I was looking for keep-warm behavior as I watched some Bald Eagles during a recent howling snowstorm. An adult and a juvenile flew nearby.
Our lake, an impoundment formed by damming a river, rarely wears a full blanket of ice. When the region’s smaller lakes freeze, Lake Allegan still provides open-water fishing. So, while eagles are a common sight, I was surprised to see how these two behaved in the frigid, snowy wind.
Their heads and toes remained untucked, and while likely parent and child, they were not in a huddle.
