Category: Your Local Environment

© Marlene A. Condon

May, 2013

Because a large emergence of periodical cicadas is expected in May, you’ve probably heard a lot about it. Unfortunately, much of the publicity is negative when, in reality, the emergence of these insects is a spectacle of nature.

Periodical cicadas spend, depending upon the species, between 13 and 17 years in the nymph (immature) stage of development in Virginia. Going about their lives unseen beneath our feet, nymphs exist underground where they feed upon plant juices that they suck from roots.

Once the nymphs have reached maturity, they exit the soil to mate. These adults die soon afterwards, but the females will have left behind fertilized eggs. More than a decade later, the next generation of periodical cicadas will again enter our sphere of existence.

Most of a particular population will come out in one particular year, as has been predicted for 2013 in the Eastern United States. While these insects can be very loud when many thousands of males emerge and sing simultaneously, I disagree that their en masse singing constitutes a “substantial noise problem” that is “annoying.” Rather, it’s truly an other-worldly experience that should be considered quite marvelous!

The singing insects are not deafening. If you are in an area where you can clearly hear the chorus of cicadas without the interference of other sounds, you will feel as if you are in an outer-space movie. It’s amazing!

It’s sad that people don’t allow themselves to enjoy such a unique and uncommon phenomenon. On the other hand, I can see where it could be unpleasant to find thousands of these insects underfoot once they die. However, all you need to do is to move the dead insects away from the house to a less-trafficked area of the yard.

You can accomplish this chore by sweeping the bodies into a dust pan from patios or decks and delivering them to their final destination. If you need to remove them from the yard right around your house, you can use a rake to get the carcasses to where you want them.

By doing this, you allow Mother Nature to dispose of the remains by recycling them, as is supposed to happen. Numerous kinds of critters will come to feed on the bounty of dead animals and the bodies will be gone in no time.

Virtually every article tells us that cicadas will cause damage to trees, both large and small. The “damage” refers to brown twig tips and brown leaves that appear some time later.

The tips of tree branches die after female periodical cicadas make slits in them to hold their eggs. But the dead twig tips, even on small trees, are simply not a health problem.

People have become obsessed with the idea that the natural world basically needs to be made safe from itself! Goodness, how could trees have survived throughout the eons of time if this impact were as detrimental to them as entomologists and others would have you believe?

Yes, the brown tips may be aesthetically displeasing to human eyes, but the cosmetic manicuring of the natural world is nonsense that is truly disastrous for our environment. We need to get away from it.

The reality is that many of the tips will break off naturally on windy days. You may consider them to be “littering” your lawn. But they will not harm your grass and you can certainly rake them off to the side of the yard if you are so inclined.

But please, don’t remove them from the yard by sending them to a landfill or burning them. These twigs are important to many kinds of critters as well as to the proper functioning of your yard.

The twigs will provide food for animals, such as some kinds of grubs (immature beetles) and termites, whose job is to recycle wood. By keeping dead wood within your immediate environment, you don’t force these animals to look to your home as a food source.

When the wood-eating organisms defecate, they return to the soil some of the nutrients they obtained by eating the twigs. In other words, they fertilize your growing plants so you don’t need to do it.

These recyclers will themselves provide nutrients for the many species of birds (such as Pileated Woodpeckers), skunks, lizards, salamanders, and numerous other kinds of wildlife that will search for them.

The twigs that don’t fall off the trees thanks to the wind will be broken off by the kinds of birds and squirrels that need such small dead twigs to make their nests. They cannot reproduce without them.

Extension agents, landscapers, and pesticide applicators often cite problems where none really exists because they don’t see the big picture. My hope is that by way of this column, you now do.

Adults and children alike should take advantage of this somewhat rare opportunity to enjoy what is truly an impressive show put on by Mother Nature. Periodical cicadas are big insects that are easy to observe; they don’t bite or sting; they won’t come after you (although they may buzz right by you!); and they are remarkably colored with their black bodies, orange wing veins, and bright-red eyes.

We should appreciate the free entertainment provided by these creatures as well as their role in helping so many other organisms to survive.

Blue Ridge Naturalist: A Spectacle of Nature: Periodical Cicadas

© Marlene A. Condon 

November, 2013

About the middle of April, just after the azaleas have begun to bloom in our area, you can expect to spot a male ruby-throated hummingbird. The males leave Central America before the females to head into the United States and Canada, where they seem to follow the northward progression of azalea bloom.

Many folks immediately put up sugar-water feeders once they know that these tiny birds have arrived, but then are puzzled and disappointed when the hummers disappear by May. Most people then assume that the first hummingbirds of spring are migrants with no intention of staying in Virginia and so they have left to continue their journey northward.

But that assumption is incorrect. Although the ruby-throats appear to be gone, I can assure you that they do not leave the area.

Every spring when the tulip poplar trees (Liriodendron tulipifera) start to bloom, hummers desert feeders to obtain their nourishment from tulip poplar blossoms.  I’ve been taking notes about the natural world for many years and the hummer “disappearance” each year correlates exactly with the blooming of the tulip poplar trees in my area.

And thanks to a microphone on my porch where the feeder is located, I know these birds are still in the vicinity because I continue to hear a hummingbird around the porch. The hum of its wings is quite audible. It doesn’t make use of the feeder, but it comes by once a day as if it just wants to make sure that the feeder is still there!

Tulip poplars produce huge flowers that provide an abundance of nectar to many kinds of insects as well as our hummingbirds. Consequently, the hummers do not need to depend upon human handouts because they can just spend each day up high in the tree canopy, visiting the tulip poplar blossoms that dwarf them.

By looking up at the tall tulip poplar trees with binoculars, anyone can ascertain that is, indeed, where the hummingbirds are “hanging out.” You might not always spy one up there (the trees are fully leafed out at this time), but with due diligence, you’ll get an opportunity to see that the hummingbirds are definitely still around.  And once those trees have stopped blooming, the hummers will immediately be back at the feeder!

Sometimes people have expressed doubts when I’ve put forth this information.  But what’s wonderful about the natural world is that it’s truly an open book that anyone can read and from which anyone can discern the truth.

All you need to do is to observe what takes place when there is no manipulation of nature by man. Of course, you must also have an open mind that harbors no prejudices as a result of what you’ve previously heard or read. It also helps to document your observations.

Having a microphone outside and keeping detailed notes helped me to discover the truth not only about hummingbird behavior in spring, but also about goldfinch behavior in fall in Virginia.

The American Goldfinch is a gregarious bird, so if you keep a feeder of sunflower seeds and/or a water pan filled with fresh, clean water in your yard, numerous goldfinches will visit for food and drink every day without fail.

But by the end of September, just a few weeks after the young-of-the-year goldfinches have left the nest (these finches are our latest-nesting birds), the goldfinch chatter and the “crying” of the juvenile goldfinches begging to be fed will be absent.

The feeder and the water pan will be far less busy because the goldfinches—young and all—have left.

The word from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology is that goldfinches migrate, but only a short distance south and only from the coldest areas of the United States and southern Canada where they nest in summer. They move to more southerly regions where the minimum January temperature is no colder than zero degrees Fahrenheit on average.

Therefore experts consider our Virginia goldfinches to be “permanent residents,” which suggests that all of them will hatch, live out their lives, and die here in our state. Look in any guidebook or bird checklist and that is the description that you will see.  Look up the definition of “resident bird” and you’ll find that it’s synonymous with “non-migratory.”

But the experts are wrong. Although the disappearance of goldfinches goes unnoticed by most bird watchers (and, apparently, scientists) who don’t have an expectation that these birds will leave, I have been paying such close attention to what’s going on in the natural world for such a long time that I know for a fact that our goldfinches disappear for about a month or so every autumn.

One fall morning in 2011, I was outside well before the sun was due to come up when I suddenly heard goldfinches chattering from high above me in the pitch-black sky. I could tell they were going over from north to south in the darkness, as many of our migratory songbirds do. I couldn’t see the birds, but their abundant chattering for a minute or so suggested that there were quite a few of them on the move.

Birds don’t move northwards as the weather gets colder so our summer goldfinches have undoubtedly moved a bit farther south come fall when they disappear.  When goldfinches again appear, then, they must be migrants flying into the area from farther north.

The fact is that each and every one of us can freely take note of the natural world that surrounds us and we can often do this without special equipment and often without needing to leave home. Yet an incredible amount of misinformation is put out to the public, some by “experts.”

For example, entomologist Doug Tallamy writes in his well-known book, Bringing Nature Home, that the tulip poplar “is one of the least productive forest species in terms of its ability to support wildlife—insects and vertebrates alike.”

Yet nothing could be further from the truth, as you should expect for a native plant!  This stately tree provides nectar for an array of insects as well as obviously being an important food source for hummingbirds.

The numerous seeds that result from the fertilization of the blooms by the great variety of nectar-feeders provide a crucial supply of food for birds (such as titmice and cardinals) as well as mammals (such as squirrels and mice) from late fall into winter.

The leaves are fed upon by many kinds of caterpillars (such as those of the tiger swallowtail butterfly and the tuliptree silkmoth) and when the tree is young, deer feed upon the leaves that they can reach.

I can’t explain why so much information published about our natural world is incorrect. I suspect a lot of it has to do with people writing about subject matter that they have little, if any, personal experience with. And then this misinformation gets perpetuated by others who repeat it as if it must be true and soon no one questions it.

But if you pay close attention to the natural world, you can’t help but find out for yourself what information is correct and what isn’t. You might even discover something that no one else has noticed before.

According to a poster in my office given to me by my husband, “Discovery” results from “venturing beyond the obvious to see what others don’t see!”

Blue Ridge Naturalist: The Natural World Is an Open Book That Anyone Can Read

By Marlene A. Condon
June, 2016

I absolutely love my 300-foot-long driveway garden. A gravel driveway is favored by many species of plants, especially rather small ones that you might not notice or pay attention to when they are in the mixed company of larger plants.

My driveway is yet another garden of delightful surprises every year, introducing me to flowers that I never before knew existed. Thus whenever people tell me they’ve paved their driveway, I can’t help but feel that they’ve lost a golden opportunity to see and learn about the wildflowers of our area.

I also feel that they might have lost the chance to meet new insects whose lives are closely tied to those particular kinds of blooms, and to notice bigger animals that might have taken advantage of the gravel pathway (which would feel much more natural to them than a surface of asphalt) to travel through their property.

Our first view of a Box Turtle for the year is often of one walking across the driveway from the forest to my planted flower gardens. And Red Efts (the terrestrial immature form of the Eastern or Red-spotted Newt) can often be found wandering around on the gravel following rainstorms when everything is wet.

Snakes, birds, and mammals regularly make use of the driveway. We’ve watched copperheads and rat snakes poking their faces down into the spaces between the rocks as if seriously searching for something. Unfortunately, I do not know what.

Brown Thrashers enjoy taking dust baths whenever a big-enough area somehow becomes pebble-less. We now try to maintain such an area close enough to the house to enjoy the goings-on.

And foxes used to be seen crossing the driveway at dusk. Unfortunately, both the Red and the Gray Fox have virtually disappeared from my area. The proof is evident by the noticeable increase in Eastern Cottontail Rabbits. (I believe the foxes have been extirpated, along with the coyotes I used to hear.)

But returning to my driveway garden, as my absolute favorite color is red, I was thrilled when numerous Hairy Bedstraw (Galium pilosum) plants showed up there. This wasn’t an easy plant to identify, however. My Peterson guide to wildflowers doesn’t include it.

The Newcomb guide contains this plant, but it tells us the bloom color ranges from greenish white to purple. The plants in my driveway are a true red (luckily for me!), which is an unusual turn of events in my experience.

I’ve purchased many plants that were supposed to have red blooms but ended up being various shades of pinkish purple. As a result, you would think that purple was my favorite color when you look around my yard. (The lesson to be learned is that you should never take the color of plant blossoms on faith—buy your plants when they are blooming, if possible.) So it’s rather amazing that red isn’t mentioned for Hairy Bedstraw, yet my plants are—for once—the color I adore.

Mind you, this is a tiny flower, but it’s absolutely lovely in close-up—as are many of the driveway plants. Bluecurls (Trichostema dichotomum), American Penneyroyal (Hedeoma pulegioides), and Bluets (Houstonia caerulea) are best viewed with a hand lens.

Another favorite of mine is Venus’ Looking-glass (Specularia perfoliata). The enchanting name makes me think of fairy tales, and the small purple blooms are pretty, but the heart-shaped leaves that clasp the stem are what really capture my fancy. It’s in the Lobelia Family, so many of its larger “cousins” are well known cultivated plants.

Venus’ Looking-glass is described in field guides as a plant of “sterile fields, clearings,” while Hairy Bedstraw is said to be a plant of dry woods and thickets. While these details do not exactly match the characteristics of my driveway garden, those of St. Andrew’s Cross (Ascyrum hypericoides) hits the nail on the head: “dry sandy or rocky soil.”

St. Andrew’s Cross is in the St. Johnswort Family, but it has such flattened yellow flowers that the first time I saw one of these plants (in a wilderness area), I couldn’t imagine what it was. I didn’t manage to identify it from field guide drawings that gave the impression that it was an upright plant when it actually grows more as a dense, discretely mounded ground cover. But once it showed up in the driveway, familiarity facilitated recognition.

The wildflowers in my driveway garden share the trait of growing well among small rocks surrounded by precious little soil for root growth or moisture retention. They are truly plants of great stamina that can even manage to obtain enough nutrients to be healthy even though they haven’t much access to organic matter. They are plants to be admired, really.

Yet I’ve noticed there can be a bias in wildflower field guides when it comes to how the location of these plants is described. When the plants are native, the places where they tend to be found are usually described simply in terms of the physical characteristics of the site (dry, fields). But sometimes, when the plants are not native to our area, the places you will find them are described more in terms of human opinion of the plant’s non-native origin rather than in a straightforward characterization of the site.

For example, Garlic Mustard (Alliaria officinalis), an alien species of which I have very few even though it’s considered by many people to be a serious “invader,” includes the term “waste places” in its Peterson guide write-up, as does the alien Asiatic Dayflower (Commelina communis) and Field Bindweed (Convolvulus arvensis). This site description is rarely found, if it’s found at all, for native plants.

Of course, many alien species do tend to be found in areas degraded by human activities, such as along railroad tracks, roadsides (current and historical), hiking trails, and within former or still active cow fields. They are therefore quite commonly seen because they are able to take advantage of destroyed soil profiles of compacted dirt containing little organic matter. They keep the ground productive (i.e., they provide habitat for wildlife) that bare dirt can never do.

Over four dozen species of plants comprise my driveway garden, with a bit less than 50 percent of them non-native. Many of these driveway plant species are not found anywhere else in my yard, not only because they obviously prefer dry, rather nutrient-poor soil, but because they are so small that they could easily be crowded out by much larger plants—whether those plants are native or non-native.

It’s a fact of life that there’s always this push-and-pull within the plant world. The plants that are best suited to a site persist, although they, too, will be replaced over time as conditions change.

Even my driveway garden changes from year to year, depending upon whether new gravel is added or new soil builds up among the rocks. It’s a classroom of sorts, one that provides beauty along with an education.

Blue Ridge Naturalist: My Driveway Garden

“Who’s killing the Easter Bunny?”, published 03/23/2007, The Roanoke Times

“Renewable? Water woes require drastic measures”, published 11/08/2007, The Hook

“Fall ball: don’t rake the leaves or tinker with daddy”, published 11/13/2008, The Hook

Greg Rogers, right, gets engulfed October 30 in leaves on the UVA Grounds, with the Rotunda in the background.PHOTO BY HAWES SPENCER

Leaves are falling from the trees. This year, instead of burning them or raking them into bags to be carted away, try gathering them together under your trees in a neat circle. Once thoroughly dampened, they will mat down and provide a natural mulch layer that moderates soil temperatures and helps preserve soil moisture for the benefit of your tree roots.

Numerous organisms depend upon such leaf litter to hibernate through the coming winter. For example, Gray Treefrogs that protect your trees and shrubs from too many insects during the warm months (thus serving as your natural insecticide) must move to the ground as it starts to get cold.

The treefrogs helped the leaves to survive all through the growing season. Now it’s the leaves’ turn to help the treefrogs to survive until next spring. They offer protection from freezing temperatures and predators to the cold-blooded amphibians.

Some kinds of animals, such as the Hackberry Emperor butterfly, overwinter as caterpillars that wrapped themselves in the leaves of Hackberry trees before autumn winds knocked them off. If you wish to experience the beauty of these butterflies next year, you must let those leaves stay put under your trees. When spring comes, the caterpillars can then climb back up into the trees to continue feeding, and you will be rewarded for your patience during the summer when the adults fly.

At this time of year, you may happen to spot a large grouping of daddy longlegs taking shelter in a protected area, their many legs overlapping. These spider relatives are trying to survive the cooler temperatures of the season.

If you live where it’s not usually freezing from late fall to early spring, some of these 8-legged creatures may survive the winter. But in areas that get quite cold, most or all of them will die, leaving behind eggs in the ground or among leaf litter to provide a new generation of individuals next spring.

Although very similar in appearance to a spider, a daddy longlegs has one main difference that is easy to see: its small oval body does not include the narrow waist that is typical of spiders. Another aspect of its anatomy that you might notice, but only if you get up close and personal, is that it has two eyes instead of the eight a spider usually possesses.

Daddy longlegs are also known as harvestmen. In fact, the indexes of many books only list them under one name or the other. If you don’t think to check under both names, you might not realize the book actually does contain information about this kind of animal.

There are varying accounts of how daddy longlegs got the name harvestmen. The most plausible is that these animals are more noticeable to humans in fall when, years ago, folks would be in the fields harvesting crops. An old English belief told of the critters assisting farmers with their reaping and it was said to be bad luck to kill one.

Worldwide, there are about 3,400 species, with at least 200 in North America. You can get an idea about the number of species around your home by checking out the various colors and patterns on your local daddy longlegs.

Because daddy longlegs are related to spiders, it’s reasonable to expect them to be hunters, just as spiders are. But I used to wonder how that could be since they seemed too small to be able to easily overpower many other creatures.

Then one day I stepped out onto my carport and spotted a daddy longlegs with a European Hornet— an insect much larger than the arachnid. I immediately realized that this daddy longlegs could not possibly have killed the big hornet that it was eating. I had discovered for myself that daddy longlegs, at least those around my home, were scavengers! Since that day, I have observed and photographed these animals taking advantage of the opportunity to feed upon many kinds of dead insects.

Although people often have the urge to touch wildlife, it’s always best to take a hands-off approach. In this way, you don’t needlessly frighten the critter (not a pleasant thing for it to experience), nor do you risk getting hurt or harming the animal as it tries to defend itself (it doesn’t know you mean it no harm).

In the case of daddy longlegs, you could cause one to lose a leg if you try to pick it up. This defensive tactic, similar to that of skinks whose tails break off to escape, allows the arachnid to scurry away from danger. But as adult daddy longlegs can not regenerate legs; the loss of one or more legs will impact their lives.

By the way, if you have not yet set up a system for catching and holding the rain that runs off your roof, you should consider installing rain barrels or other water-catching devices (I have two 350-gallon agricultural tanks). You will then be all set next spring to use less ground or reservoir water and instead take advantage of local rainwater— a resource that has been severely limited in recent years.

If you take your cues from nature, you’ll have less work to do and more time to enjoy your surroundings.