Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

The Suddenly Uncommon Common Grackle

(Or less common, anyhow.)

Phenomena are often detected by the presence of something. But sometimes they are inferred by the absence of something.

In May and June, I couldn't step foot in the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden without seeing and hearing Common Grackles. Usually dozens of them. But in the heat of July, they seem to have disappeared. I noticed this same phenomenon last year (post from July 1, 2011), too.

Curious about their peculiar absence, I surf over to E-Bird to explore the data. It looks as though my observations might fit the general pattern.
Here's a data visualization showing the frequency of Common Grackles on checklists submitted for Hennepin County, 2000-2012. The frequency of Common Grackles peak the week of May 1 at about 35%. Then frequency drops off and by mid-July it reaches lows close to 10%. I'm not sure how to explain this. But based on my observations of the Sculpture Garden, Common Grackles (adults as well as the new brood) vacate the nesting area once young reach the juvenile stage. It could be that during the juvenile stage of their development, Common Grackles redistribute & congregate in specific locations---locations where only 10% of checklists are generated. And that by contrast, during the nesting & fledgling phasea, Common Grackles are seen in 30% of locations where E-Bird checklists are generated.

To view a larger version of this interactive graph, courtesy E-Bird, click here.
What is "frequency"? Refer to the E-Bird glossary by clicking here.


Saturday, June 30, 2012

The Benefits of Constant Vigilance

Young Green Herons, Minneapolis Sculpture Garden. Photo by Christina
What: Two Green Herons fledglings, seen out of the nest!
Where: Along the east border of the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden, a pair of Green Herons built a nest high in a pine tree. For several months now, Rachel, Christina, and I have been checking on the nest, watching to see that the adults were present and straining our eyes to detect young. In the week before my long vacation, we finally observed indications of a successful brood --- scarcely perceptible, we could see movement of downy head(s) and maybe a small beak at the nest's brim, under a vigilant adult.
When: June 18, 2012
Observers: Christina and Rachel, two colleagues of mine who enthusiastically stepped in as proxy phenologists over my vacation. I'm so grateful to Christina and Rachel for sustaining the continuity of our phenology practice!
Conditions: Elated! (I wasn't there to report on weather or other objective details, so I'll skip ahead to to the subjective conditions.) Upon arriving to town after vacation, the first thing I did was log into my Twitter, @openphenology. I was thrilled to read my colleagues' report of the fledglings and view their terrific photo (above). It all serves as a reminder that phenology entails a continual and regular practice. Or, to use Christina's and my mantra: Constant vigilance!

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Yes! Young!

What: The Green Herons have young in the nest! For the first time, we see it with our own eyes! We struggle to document it, but the nest's too far, obscured, and poorly lit. But through binoculars, you can see a parent perched on the nest and at the nest's brim, movement of a little beak and the top of a fuzzy head.
Where: East border of the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden
When: Thursday, June 7, 2012 at about 5:30 pm
Observers: Abbie and Christina
Conditions: Sunny and hot.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Open Phenology is now micro-blogging!

Hello, Open Phenology followers!

I've been running short on time to post, so please check out my micro-blogging @openphenology, twitter.com/openphenology.

Christina and I went nest-spotting in the arborvitae hedges that line the Garden's four courtyards. We saw one aggressive Common Grackle chasing a Gray Squirrel. We saw a silent Mourning Dove on its nest. And we saw an anxious, vocal pair of Common Grackles, possibly with their nestling? Wish I could be more confident about this observation, but the individual was obscured by foliage and I didn't have my binoculars.

Friday, April 13, 2012

It's Lilac Time

May  12, 2011April 13, 2012

What: Lilacs flowering. Though in other parts of town I've seen lilac buds opening since about April 7, these individuals were slower to flower.
Where: At the southwest corner of the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden and across the street, these lilac shrubs are part of the condo building's meticulous landscaping.
When: The photo on the right was taken this year, on Friday, April 13 at about 11:45 am. The photo at left was taken last year. The discrepancy in timing (about 4 weeks) is just one of several indicators of the early and fast-paced spring we've had this year.
Observer: Abbie
Conditions: Overcast, cool, and precipitation sprinkled throughout the day

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Winged Insects

What: While this observation might garner only disbelief, I tell you that I saw a mosquito. A single individual.
Where: This mosquito was in the mud room/vestibule space at my home, landing for moments at a time on the window pane or the door's moulding.
Observer: Abbie
Date/Time: Saturday, March 24, 2012 at 11:33 am
Conditions: 56 degrees, overcast and virtually windless.

What: Butterflies! First, I see this orange one, whose wings had a distinct shape making me think it might be a comma. Later, I saw what I think was a mourning cloak.
Where: Outside my home
Observer: Abbie
Date/Time: Saturday, March 24, 2012 at 1:30 pm
Conditions: Sunny

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Flowering Trees

You've probably noticed many trees' branches are not so bare as they were a few weeks ago. Here's just one particularly beautiful example, spotted in a park a few miles from the Walker. If you get a chance, bend a bough close to your eyes and examine what's happening!
What: Flowering tree, unidentified species
Where: Basset's Creek Park
Observer: Abbie
Date/Time: March 20, 2012 at about 5:30 pm
Conditions: Overcast

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Poking up through the Earth

What: Tiny, firm, green spires poke up through cracking soil. Examining the ground more closely, we spot a few three-petaled white flowers, low-to-the-ground and nodding. Other plants bear tiny clusters of blue-green buds, which I interpret as future hyacinth blooms.
Where: In the Arbor that forms the north border of the Sculpture Garden.
Observers: Rachel and Abbie
Date/Time: March 15, 2012 at 3:40 pm
Conditions: Without snow for a week or more, the weather is pleasant and the skies are clear.

What: A 13-lined ground squirrel, the first I've seen this year.
Where: By the leafless lilac trees that form a backdrop to the Lipchitz, the solitary squirrel stands upright to survey the scene. Then it scurries across the gravel path and disappears into the gaps in the low, granite block wall.
Observers: Rachel and Abbie
Date/Time: March 15, 2012, at 3:45 pm
Conditions: Apparently warm enough to rise from hibernation, emerge from the burrow's depths, and greet again the outside world!

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Flock Clock

What: About 100 American Robins. They are almost entirely silent, making scarcely a peep as the arrive in small flocks. I make a quick count, noticing that any given tree provides perch for10–25 loosely clustered individuals.
Where: The southwest corner of the Sculpture Garden, where linden trees line Vineland Place as it bends north, before becoming Kenwood Parkway. Also in the locust trees that grow in the median.
Observers: Abbie
Date/Time: Wednesday, February 1 at about 5:20 pm
Conditions: Identification was challenging since the light at this hour was barely sufficient. I could faintly descry their reddish robin breasts. By their silhouettes, I knew their tails were too long to be starlings and they didn't have crests like cardinals or waxwings.

In the past several weeks, leaving work has been my opportunity to see flocks of European Starlings, American Crows, Dark-Eyed Juncos, and American Robins. Each flock seems to be characterized by their own pattern, behavior, size, and timing. Which flock is on the move earliest in the day (relative to sunset)? Which flock is most fleeting, most ephemeral and likely to be missed? When do these patterns begin in the winter season, and when will the flocks dissipate as spring approaches? But to really understand this 'flock clock,' I'd need extended observations a few times a week, say, from 4-6:30 pm. Given my narrow aperture of observation, from 5 to 5:30 on weekdays, here's a summary of what I've seen:

Most abundant—easily numbering in the thousands—are the American Crows. Since December, I've seen a stream of them flying high in the sky every evening, usually in an easterly or northeasterly direction. Sometimes I've seen them densely populating the trees in Loring Park.

Next in number are the European Starlings. But I can't get a handle on their timing. I haven't seen them in weeks, but my colleague saw them last night after 6 pm.

When I've seen groups of Dark-Eyed Juncos, they were not in flight, but rather on the ground under the arborvitae. I haven't seen them in over a month, but maybe they're just around when I'm not there to see them.

So far, the most understated of the flock phenomena is the American Robin. Also,this is the newest indicator on the flock clock. I know many stick around through the winter, but I haven't seen them in flocks until late January.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Dawn Chorus on Vineland Place

What: A dawn chorus of (presumably) European Starlings
Where: Too dark to see, the calls and chatter seemed to come from the arborvitae at the Sculpture Garden's south edge
Observer: Abbie
Date/Time: Monday, December 12, 7 am
Conditions: Overcast and warmer than previous days, so warm I had no need for gloves

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Overheard in my Inbox: Geese on the Field

What: My colleague Sharon e-mails me about the Canada Geese overtaking the field. This morning I counted upwards of 50. They're like little cows with wings—black and white and preoccupied with grazing.
Where: Walker Open Field
Observers: Sharon, Abbie, Jenny—everyone who looks, really
Date/Time: Thursday, October 27 at 11:17 am
Conditions: Anticipating winter
Every morning I watch the geese roaming the field, their numbers ramping up every week. The phenomenon of their increasing numbers—or more accurately, the phenomenon of noticing this phenomenon—wakes me up. I've been dozing off, letting the Open Phenology project hibernate. But Sharon's message reminded me of the impulse to notice, record, and investigate. Recently I've been fantasizing about a superhuman ability to make observations that are perfectly focused and filtered. For example:
  • The volume and variety of bird songs heard from my driveway at 8:30 am. Since my attention has waxed and waned, I missed, for example, marking the moment when I stopped hearing the House Wren, or noticing how August's lull is sandwiched between American Robins singing in June and Black-Capped Chickadees buzzing in October.
  • The volume and frequency of cicada songs. In late summer, the cicadas' sirens are so constant you can wander for blocks and always be in ear-shot. It's like the auditory equivalent of Tarzan swinging from vine to vine—an uninterrupted passage.
  • The number of geese on the Open Field.
What if we were to graph these phenomena through time? What kinds of bell curves, peaks and valleys, or anomalies would appear?

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Subdividing the Summer

A month ago, when cicada calls sparked my curiosity, I corresponded with a cicada enthusiast who remarked,
"I love the way cicadas subdivide the summer for me. I suppose studying any summer fauna does the same."
And though I'm very green at my 'studies,' I share this impression. I say 'impression' because my haphazard observations are painted with a broad brush rather than rendered by well-informed study and systematic record-keeping. None-the-less, here's how my sub-divided summer has played out:

August 12: Eastern Forktails on the scene, abundant




August 19: Abundant and diverse dragonflies and damselflies. A lot of unfinished work in terms identification.


August 26: Emergence of an unidentified dragonfly, as inferred by the presence of abundant exuviae.

August 26: Damselflies (possibly a species of sprite) mating; Eastern Forktails are still present but (by my estimation) less abundant than 2 weeks prior.


If I added some expertise and methodology (some science, if you will) to my practice, how sophisticated could this chronology become? But rather than pursuing a single focus (dragonflies, for example), Open Phenology cast its net broadly. I've had the opportunity to share this project with collaborators with diverse specialties, ranging from ornithology to botany, audio engineering to phenology, sculpture conservation to ecology. Open Phenology's expansive approach is key to its strenghths:
  • Accessible to multiple publics, Open Phenology has no prerequisite knowledge base or skill set.
  • Open Phenology values synthesis and interconnections as a way of understanding the world.
  • Open Phenology promotes non-hierarchical exchange of information.
  • Through facilitated conversations and discovery, Open Phenology emphasizes empirical observation. A frame is drawn around this activity, calling attention to its legitimacy and authenticity.
  • In addition to recording what we do see, participants are encouraged to consider what we don't see and this leads to speculations, hyphotheses, and sustained curiosity.
Throughout the summer I've been negotiating Open Phenology's ambiguous relation to science. I have maintained all along that Open Phenology is not science, and while I'm content with this, it makes me wonder about lost opportunities. How would I modify Open Phenology to bring it into alignment with scientific inquiry? Specialization is the answer. Here are some citizen science endeavors on my radar:

Monday, August 22, 2011

Make hay while the sun shines

Well, someone did! Just as I was thinking about revisiting the medians (between Hennepin and Lyndale Avenues, see my post from July 26) to find some grasshoppers and crickets, I discover I'm too late. On Monday I notice the tall grasses, thistles, sun flowers, dock weed, and more have been completely mowed to the ground.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

No Lake is an Island

Biking to work yesterday, I happened upon a crew busying themselves at Spring Lake's shore. "What's this all about?" I asked a guy dressed in bib waders. Ted from BlueWing Environmental Solutions and Technologies, as he turned out to be, explained that he's part of a project to improve Spring Lake's water quality. Ted was working with people from Midwest Floating Island and members of the American Society of Landscape Architects to install seven "floating treatment wetlands." Once in place, these islands made of recycled plastics and foam are colonized by microbes and plants which do the work of extracting excess nutrients from the impaired wetland.

Today at 1 pm there's a public event to launch the islands.

Read more about who's involved in this management initiative and how the islands work at Josephine Marcotty's True North Star Tribune blog: http://www.startribune.com/local/blogs/127522343.html.

Friday, August 12, 2011

While You Were(n't) Looking

What: Eastern Forktail, Ischnura verticalis—I would have missed these had I not paused and stooped by the water's edge. These dainty damselflies, at just over 1" long, hover low to the ground. Interested in learning more about dragonflies (or, as they're known to taxonomists, Order Odonata)? Check out Minnesota Odonata Survey Project (MOSP).
Where: Pond perimeter, near Spoonbridge and Cherry
Observers: Abbie (and, via Internet, Kurt Mead, MOSP educator and scientist, who identified this insect by species name)
Date/Time: Friday, August 12, 10:20 am
Conditions: Overcast and 70°-ish

What: Abloom, left to right: Joe-pye Weed towers at about 7' tall; hibiscus bloom 8" in diameter; and the Honka dahlia finally on the scene (as anticipated in June by Open Phenologist Lindsay)
Where: Arlene Grossman Memorial Arbor and Flower Garden, north edge of the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden
Observer: Abbie
Date/Time: Friday, August 12, 10:30 am
Conditions: a-buzz with insect pollinators and pests

What: I'm reluctant to report these harbingers of fall, left to right: Maturing spruce pine cones (compare to this picture from May 27); yellowing locust tree leaves; and maturing arborvitae cones (compare to this picture taken June 1)
Where: Minneapolis Sculpture Garden and The Grove (entrance to the Walker off Vineland Place)
Observer: Abbie
Date/Time: Friday, August 12, between 10 and 11 am
Conditions: Warm and overcast—insistently summery with incipient signs of autumn


Friday, July 29, 2011

Simulated Soundwalk

A soundwalk is any excursion whose main purpose is listening to the environment. Today I was joined by Brian, a friend, composer, sound engineer, and educator. The sound collage below roughly represents a few of the auditory sensations along our path through the Sculpture Garden. (And just like in real life, some of these sounds are soft and others a little louder...)


Above: YouTube media by waitingline


Above: Vimeo media by Maureen Mcsmith


Above: YouTube media by jkontrad


Above: YouTube media by Greg Holmes of thelope.com


Above: YouTube media by yaaren

What: Part of our process was imagining how the Walker's sound environment changes through the seasons. For example, by late July, the Red-Winged Blackbirds don't sound like this anymore. A detailed map of our soundwalk is available here, with descriptions at each placemarker. If you're interested in trying a soundwalk on your own, here is a suggested 'score' I adapted from an essay by Hildegard Westerkamp. Additional thanks to Frauke Behrendt for support and resources.
Where: Minneapolis Sculpture Garden
Observers (Listeners): Abbie and Brian
Date/Time: Friday, July 29, 10 to 11 am
Conditions: Hot, sunny, sonic

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

WAS // NOW

On my bike ride to work this morning, I made a short list of how things were but are no longer:
  • Dock weed
    • was: green flower stalks . . . 
    • now: rusty spindles
  • Canada thistle
    • was: flowering . . . 
    • now: almost all gone to down
  • Bee balm
    • was: unnoticed . . . 
    • now: beautiful pale violet blossoms
  • Cow parsnip
    • was: green umbels with seeds forming . . . 
    • now: umbels are brown in color
  • Clovers
    • was: in June, only white clover flowers
    • now: by July, the purple clovers complement the scenery

Saturday, July 23, 2011

By light of luciferin and luciferase

Though this post strays far afield from my Walker-centric focus, it merits mention because fireflies, to me, are the very symbol of fleeting summer. Their bioluminescence results from the reaction of two chemicals, luciferin and luciferase. Let this be a challenge to you to venture outdoors in the evening to spot these insects that are homely by day and hypnotic by night.

Above: Vimeo media by John Dunstan
What: Fireflies
Where: Waseca airport
Observer: Abbie, Scott, Emily
Date/Time: July 22 evening into night
Conditions: Mosquitoey