Turkey vultures are big birds — the biggest you are likely to see, with the exception of an eagle or an American white pelican.
You’re not going to mistake a vulture for a pelican. The others are a little more problematic.
I have the most trouble telling a turkey vulture from bald or golden eagles. Although golden eagles may hold their wings in a slight “V”, most often they hold their wings flat.
Turkey vultures are also “tippy” when they fly — they are so light that air drafts bounce them around. Eagles are not “tippy”. It’s beneath their dignity.
And neither a bald or nor golden eagle have the translucent trailing wing feathers.
Swainson’s hawks, or a broad-winged hawks are both tippy and fly in a V. But both these hawks have shorter, broader wings, and are smaller. They also often brownish-red and have white markings on their wings or bodies.
You might confuse it with a black vulture, but black vultures just seem smaller overall — shorter wings, much shorter tail, with a dark grey head. Plus, black vultures are limited to the southern US down into South America. I have to travel south if I want to see a black vulture.
It’s been a long, hard winter. I hope you enjoy your first signs of spring, whatever they are!
I went out to the garden yesterday to see when I could start taking my frustrations out on it planting my spring vegetables in it. As I walked up to the garden, though, I saw movement in one of the trees on the edge of it.
This little gourd birdhouse blew out of the tree during a storm over the winter. We picked it up out of the snow, and re-hung it on the nearest branch. Now, a black-capped chickadee has decided to check it out. The mate sat in the branches nearby.
The gourd seems like a good fit for the little birds. But there is a problem — it is too close to our garden. I think the disruption of us working in the garden will drive them off.
So once the chickadee flitted out of the gourd for a moment, I moved the birdhouse a little further away from the garden. I hated to do it, because the chickadees might not come to it’s new spot. But hopefully this way they have a little time to get used to the new location.
I hope they come back. We’d love to have them as neighbors.
I had always wondered how the dinosaurs died out. I couldn’t understand how just getting hit by an asteroid, or having volcanoes spew out ash could wipe them all out. Then I heard about some research that pinpoints the moment the asteroid hit. That seemed like a promising place to start my research.
Scientists still debate the specifics of what happened, but it probably went something like this…
The dinosaurs are dead.
They died sixty-six million years ago when an asteroid the size of the island of Manhattan slammed into the ocean off the coast of Yucatan, Mexico. The asteroid punched a crater 112 miles wide and a dent one mile deep into the Earth’s surface. It caused a magnitude 11 earthquake – one of the biggest ever – to shake the Earth’s crust.
The intense heat generated by the crash vaporized the asteroid, as well as granite in the Earth’s crust. The silica in the granite turned into molten glass.
The crust rebounded like a trampoline after the asteroid hit it. A cloud of superheated air shot into the sky at twice the speed of sound. The cloud carried the melted particles of glass into the upper layers of the atmosphere.
Within minutes after impact, the larger globs of red-hot glass began to pelt from the sky. The burning rain lasted for several hours. It started fires that burned all over the world. We can still see a layer of ash from these fires in the rocks today.
Shock waves from the impact went through the core of the planet at over ten times the speed of sound. They reached the other side of the Earth in an hour-and-a-half. The energy from these waves punched pulverized rock up twelve feet off the coast of Australia. Volcanoes in nearby India had been erupting for some time, but now their eruptions became extreme. More poisonous gasses and dust spewed into the darkening sky.
In North America, the shock waves hit the shallow, narrow gulf that stretched to the Arctic. Waves of water higher than a thirty-story building flooded the nearby land. Close on the heels of the floods, gale-force winds knocked down trees, and the molten glass began to rain onto the devastated land. Stranded fish sucked some of these glowing sand-sized particles into their gills as they gasped for breath in shallow puddles. The flood waters finally crested, then reversed course. The water rushed back, covering the dying trees, fish, and animals with mud.
An almost-mile-high tsunami raced away from the impact crater at nearly ninety miles per hour. The waves spread to every ocean in the world. They threw fish and sediments onto land. Any animals in their path were drowned.
In the next few days, the vaporized rock and volcanic ash blanketed the globe in acidic soot and dust. The toxic clouds completely blocked out the sun. Plants couldn’t photosynthesize, and died. Global temperatures dropped.
The finer dust particles remained in the atmosphere for a decade. Rain finally deposited the acidic dust into the sea. The oceans became more acidic. The acids killed most animals that required hard shells, from ammonites down to plankton. The ocean ecosystems collapsed, as well.
Seventy-five percent of all life — plant and animal — died as a result of the impact. That was the end of the dinosaurs.
Or maybe not.
The burning winds, earthquakes, floods and fires left a few survivors scattered across the globe. But these survivors had to deal with great hardships.
The Earth was a cold, dark, hungry place in the first years following the impact. Without sunshine, plant life, including forests, died. Animals that needed trees for part of their life-cycles died, too.
The fires and darkness left little to eat – rotting trees, fungus, insects, seeds. And of course, survivors had to be able to find the food in the dark. At first, meat-eaters feasted on dead and dying animals. But soon they suffered, too, as their prey died off. Only smaller animals made it through the hungry times of the long cold night.
A decade after the asteroid hit, the skies cleared enough for shade-tolerant ferns to grow again. Eventually other plants and trees sprouted, too. The few animals who made it through the impact and years of starvation and cold finally had something to eat besides fungus, decaying trees and a dwindling number of ten-year-old seeds.
Sea life was impacted least. Creatures who lived deeper in the oceans suffered less than those closer to the surface.
On land, survival was more random. Those who made it through had two common traits — they were small, and they lived on the ground. This included some frogs, turtles, crocodiles, snakes and lizards. These cold-blooded animals probably survived in the tropics. It was warmer there, even in the dark.
Almost as many mammals died in the extinction as dinosaurs. Mammals evolved at the same time as the dinosaurs. But mammals had always been mouse-like creatures. They never grew to the enormous sizes of the dinosaurs.
Their small size meant that mammals required fewer calories. Being small helped them live through the hungry time. And they were used to eating more different foods than most dinosaurs, including seeds, and maybe fungi.
Early mammals lived in many different environments. The mammals that lived in trees died out when the asteroid hit. But a few scurried through the plant litter on the ground, retreating to burrows in times of danger.
As they evolved, many mammals came out in the cool night, when the cold-blooded reptiles slowed. This gave the mammals several adaptations that helped them stay alive when the asteroid hit. They had bigger eyes to see in the dark. Warm blood let them stay active in the cooler hours, and fur insulated their bodies to retain body heat. After the asteroid, their fur also may have protected the mammals from the razor-sharp edges of shattered volcanic glass that littered the ground.
As plant life slowly returned, mammals rebounded quickly. They adapted and filled the empty niches left by the extinction of so many other animals.
Mammals were joined in the empty landscape by a few other creatures. One tiny group of dinosaurs was able to solve the same problems that plagued mammals. Some of these creatures were ground-dwellers, so they survived the loss of trees. They learned to lay their eggs in protected areas such as rocky ledges or hidden depressions in the soil. They had fingernail-like beaks instead of skin-covered muzzles. The hard beaks may have helped them to find seeds in the razor-sharp layer of ash laid down by the explosion.
In many ways, these animals were like mammals. They were warm-blooded. They became smaller. They made it through the decades long cold spell with a layer of insulation — feathers — that had evolved before the asteroid.
Yes, birds are dinosaurs, the only group of dinosaurs to survive the asteroid extinction. Dinosaurs didn’t die out, after all.
What we’ve learned from the asteroid extinction is both reassuring and terrifying. Life can survive huge changes that happen in an instant. But there is no way of predicting who will make it through. And the life that survives won’t be the same as it was before.
The asteroid impact was the fifth global extinction the Earth has seen. We are entering the sixth, carbon dioxide global extinction. If we take action now, we can limit the loss of species, and prevent global ecosystem collapse.
But we must take action now. We must do everything we can to limit carbon dioxide production. And it must be all of us, together.
I don’t know for sure that this is the same bird, but as I pointed out last fall, it is a little unusual for them to be hunting in the semi-wooded suburbs.
And this bird is hunting. Another neighbor said that he came out to get the morning paper, and it was ripping up a rabbit it had caught in his front yard. He said it didn’t fly off as he approached, so he decided to get the paper later.
Today I heard a Crow burbling as it flew fast overhead. It joined another to harass the Red-tail, at times almost driving it into the ground.
Mama eagle shades the chicks. At this point, they are 9 days old.
Up until this day, I hadn’t seen them out of the central depression, where the failed egg remains. But once they started exploring, they rambled all over.
I’m a little annoyed, because Mama eagle is in the way of a nice shot of the little ones. There were two cameras on the nest, but the bomb cyclone took out one of them, so I can’t switch for a better view.
Oh! I get it now! Mom providing shade for the chicks while they sleep. Now that I understand what she’s doing, I see that she actually shades them a lot.
You can see the remains of a fish at her feet. The failed egg is still in the nest, too.
She spends a lot of time feeding them.
The last couple of days, the male has been covering the chicks up with nest material. I have no idea why.
The male has covered the chicks up. The female finally took nesting material out of his beak and put it back where he had picked it up. Hah! I could practically hear her saying “Will you just stop?”
Not only have the chicks grown, they are beginning to lose their downy feathers, and their beaks and talons are turning from black to grey.
Above: The female has already fed the right hand chick the first half of the fish in her beak. A previous fish is in the left foreground.
I always thought that it was kinda a free-for-all at feeding time for birds — the chicks opened their beaks as wide as they could and the adult dropped food into the biggest mouth. That hasn’t been the case with the eagles — one chick is fed until it is full, then the other is fed. This could be a problem in lean years, but the male has kept the nest full of fish this year.
It took her 8 minutes to feed the second half of the fish to the left chick. By the time she finished, all that remains of the fish are under her talons — not much. She feeds them several times a day, not always as much, but a lot.
I wasn’t sure she had an egg there, but she didn’t move for a very long time.
Just as I was getting ready actually get to my work, the eagle stood up. I was able see the egg just to the side of her tail.
Moments after she stood up, the other eagle returned, with a branch in it’s beak.
The stick needed to be placed in just the right place.
I was surprised at how much they dragged that stick around, and that they didn’t hit the egg.
Excel has two cameras on the eagle nest at St. Vrain. The rest of these images are from a different perspective, because I switched to the other camera.
The stick was repositioned several times, and some of the branches trimmed with a quick snip of the beak. Finally, it was in a good spot.
The eagles touched beaks, and one, presumably the male took off. I have no idea if the beak-touching is a frequent thing, or was just for Valentines Day. Sorry. A little anthropomorphizing.
The remaining eagle fluffed the nest a little, rolled the egg, and settled in
Most of the egg-brooding is done by the female. She has 35 days to go before this chick hatches out. Bald Eagles lay between one and three eggs, so we’ll have to keep watching to see if more eggs appear.
Many years ago, the local power company, Public Service of Colorado, placed a nest box on the smokestack of one of their power plants. They put a camera inside, and watched what happened.
What happened was that a pair of Great Horned Owls moved in and raised a family. The public got to watch. Very cool.
Fast forward several decades. PSC merged with two other power companies in 1995 to form Excel. One of the other companies also had bird cams (which is the story you read in their “Information” page.) Excel now has at least five raptor cams, three in Colorado and two in Minnesota. https://birdcam.xcelenergy.com/cams
I love going to the library! You get the entire world at your fingertips — fiction, science, art, music, geese.
Yes, geese were at the library this morning. Colorado has become a wintering stop for vast numbers of Canada geese, who earn their keep by turning dead grass on lawns into organic fertilizer. But this small flock included this odd duck — er — goose.
I think the bird in the center is an immature blue-morph Snow Goose. Snow Geese breed in the far north, on the Arctic coasts of North America. There are three populations of Snow Geese — western, mid-continent and eastern.
There are two color forms, or morphs of Snow Geese — white or blue. While the coastal Snow Geese populations are mostly the traditional white, the mid-continent populations has a high percentage of blue-morphs. And this is apparently an immature blue-morph.
I took these shots with my cell phone. Now that I know that at least one Snow Goose is hanging out with the Canada Geese at the library, I need to take my camera with me when I go, to get some better photographs of them.