Swallows bully eagle

 

The Bald Eagle is often seen harassing others. I have watched it bully ospreys, herons, and even an otter (and this doesn’t include things it was trying to eat). So, it was satisfying to see an eagle being bullied by another bird—and by a Tree Swallow, no less.

The Tree Swallow is not a large bird; it weighs only about 20 g. The Bald Eagle is massive by comparison and might weigh about 5000 g—some 250 times as heavy. Yet, in this case the swallows had a nest in a piling, so when a sub-adult eagle happened by, they felt a need to defend it.

When the eagle landed, it was probably unaware of the swallow nest only eight meters from its perch—it didn’t remain unaware for long. Abruptly swallow parents attacked in succession. They kept it up, again and again, until the eagle tired of it and left.

“What are you doing? I just stopped by for a rest.”

“If I could catch you, I’d make you sorry.”

“What did I ever do to deserve this treatment (as if I don’t know)?”

“Nuff”s enough; I’m outahere.”

 

 

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Canada Day loons

 

The breeding range of the Common Loon is nearly coincident with Canada. I suspect that is why a loon appears on our one-dollar coin—the loonie. Given this situation, it seems appropriate to post a Canada Day picture of a loon family.

Actually, while I have seen many loons on Kootenay Lake, I have never seen a chick. Loons do not breed on Kootenay Lake: the variation in spring-time water level is too great for them to nest along the shore. Rather, they breed on the smaller lakes higher in the mountains. And that is where I watched this chick with its parents, today.

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Raindrop splash

 

June has been a remarkably aqueous month: rain falls, snow melts, creeks rage, rivers rise, and lakes flood. What better way to acknowledge this than with a picture of a single raindrop on the Lake?

The impact of a large raindrop on the Lake creates a momentary pit in the surface—a small temporary crater. Then, the water surrounding this crater responds by rushing back inward. Arriving from all sides, the water collides in the centre and squirts upward to form a tower of water. Surface tension causes such a cylinder of water to break into drops, starting with one at the top.

It is odd, but the response of a lake surface to large drops falling from the sky is to squirt drops back skyward.

Driven by the impact of a large raindrop, a waterdrop-topped tower has arisen from the Lake. The waterdrop forms a lens in which can be seen an upside down image of the distant shore.

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Drowned daisies

 

Some casualties of high water.

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Heron’s still here

 

The just published, The State of Canada’s Bird, 2012, tells us that for Canada’s West Coast and Mountains, the Great Blue Heron is a “strongly decreasing species”.

If this is true, it is a shame; the heron is a beautiful aspect of Kootenay Lake. Here is yesterday’s picture of one flying along the lakeshore.

 

 

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An uncommon Common

 

Common is a part of the name of many species: Common Carp (fish), Common Loon (bird), Common Pika (mammal), Common Whitetail (insect), Common Harebell (plant), Common Orange Lichen (lichen). Vastly more examples could be offered.

There are perils in incorporating the often misleading Common in a name. The species may have been common when named but uncommon now, or it may have been common in one region but uncommon in another. (We never see the Common Kingfisher around here, only the Belted Kingfisher.)

Last Thursday, when butterfly hunting with Janice Arndt (butterfly symposium), I watched a distinctly uncommon Common. Indeed, it is sufficiently rare that it is on the provincial Blue List—it is a species at risk.

Below are four pictures of this oddly named rare butterfly: the Common Checkered Skipper.

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High-water loon

This loon, taken five years ago, wouldn’t pass muster today.

 

When I look back at my earlier pictures of loons, I find that a surprisingly large number of them were taken in late June during the freshet.

Yesterday’s loon visited at sunset.

Maybe its approach was encouraged by the inordinately high water, but the loon came much closer to me than had any previous one.

The resulting shots also represent the high-water mark for my loon photography.

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Butterfly symposium

 

I enjoy polysemes—words with plural meanings. One might think that my title, butterfly symposium, must refer to a seminar of lepidopterists. It doesn’t. The root meaning of symposium is drinking party (sym: together; posium: to drink). Certainly, it is clear how the impression of reflective discourse arose from such a bibulous activity.

I typically see butterflies in ones and twos, but on this occasion I tagged along with Janice Arndt on her rare-butterfly project for the Waneta Terrestrial Compensation Program. There will be more postings from this jaunt as various butterflies are identified.

So, these butterflies are holding a symposium: they are drinking together. Chuckle.

Indeed, butterflies often gather at moist areas to sip water laden with salt and nutrients (as distinct from alcohol). These are things they don’t get from nectar.

The butterflies in these pictures are Tiger Swallowtails. The white and black ones are Pale Tiger Swallowtails, while the yellow and black ones are Western Tiger Swallowtails. These are rather large, impressive, and fairly common butterflies.

Pale Tiger Swallowtail Butterflies hold a symposium.

This Western Tiger Swallowtail Butterflies is drinking on its own.

As is this one. You can see the butterfly’s proboscis (its tongue) extending to the moist surface.

Two Pales drink together. There is yellow pollen stuck to an abdomen and to the left, a Western Spring Azure.

The two species regularly go drinking together.

“I’m arriving a bit late; may I join you?”

 

 

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Forb eating pair

 

Within a couple of days, I watched two mammals eating forbs. The striking thing about this pair is that they differed in mass by perhaps a factor of a hundred: The black bear was of modest size and may have weighed about 100 kg; A typical weight for a muskrat is only about 1 kg.

Reputations to the contrary, the diet of each of these animals is primarily herbaceous. Nevertheless, I admit to being unwilling to approach the bear as closely as the muskrat. Neither animal has particularly good eyesight, but the muskrat’s vision seems to be the poorer. I was able to (slowly) approach the muskrat within about 3 meters without it showing any awareness.

A black bear patrols a grassy field for comestibles.

It found what it sought: flower buds.

A muskrat has just climbed out of the Lake and has started to forage.

It soon found what it wants. (Here, it reminds me of a koala.)

 

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Pond skater strikes

 

A pond skater goes by an amazingly large number of common names. Wikipedia lists some—water strider, water bug, magic bug, pond skater, skater, skimmer, water scooter, water skater, water skeeter, water skimmer, water skipper, water spider, Jesus bug—but, there are even more that those. Such a proliferation implies that the bug, itself, must be remarkable.  And it is: it walks on water.

The skater makes use of the surface tension of water for support by distributing its weight across long hydrophobic legs. From its maneuverable position on the surface of the water, it can detect, hunt down, and consume less fortunate invertebrates that have fallen onto the water and have become trapped by that same surface tension.

I watched a pond skater (Limnoporus notabilis) that initially seemed to be aimlessly standing on the water’s surface. Yet, it was busy. Its two front legs were feeling the water for ripples produced by anything trapped by, and struggling against, the surface tension. The ripples carry information about the bug’s direction, distance and size. The skater sensed something and abruptly headed straight towards another bug about four meters away and undoubtedly beyond its visual acuity.

The skater quickly closed in on a female robber fly (Nicocles sp.). After all, the skater is highly mobile on the water’s surface and the fly is not.

The skater punctured the robber fly’s abdomen and began to suck its juices. The fly now struggled against both the water’s surface tension and the actions of the skater. It thrashed about vigorously, but the outcome was foregone. There was no escape; this is how the skater makes its living and it is good at it.

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