by Susan Patla, Non-game biologist for WGFD and NMJH Science Advisory Committee member
The call of a loon echoing across a still mountain lake is a sound that embodies the essence of wilderness. Biodiversity Research Institute (BRI), in partnership with Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks and Wyoming Game & Fish Department (WGFD), recently completed a fifth field season to monitor and study common loons in Wyoming. This project has been funded through a generous grant by the Ricketts Conservation Fund to determine the conservation status of loons in Wyoming and four other states. The loon is the rarest nesting bird species in Wyoming and a designated species of conservation concern. The Wyoming population is also the most southern nesting group in North America and isolated from the nearest neighboring population in Montana by over 200 miles. While migrating loons can be seen across the state both in spring and fall, breeding pairs currently occur only in the northwest part of the state.
Since 1987, Yellowstone NP and WGFD have been monitoring the presence of loon pairs and fledged chicks. In 2013, BRI expanded on this effort through increased monitoring of pairs during the nesting season and the capture and banding of adult loons. In 2017, there were 21 territorial pairs documented (15 of which were in Yellowstone), and at least 12 of these attempted to nest. Eight pairs successfully hatched a total of ten chicks and all survived to fledging. Seven unpaired adults and one immature loon were also seen. One territorial female adult was captured and banded, and young were banded at two additional sites. Results from blood and feather samples for mercury and genetic analyses will be available later. BRI also deployed nest rafts at four sites and worked with agencies to implement management measures to protect nesting pairs.
Compared to 2016, Wyoming had one fewer territorial pair and productivity was slightly lower than previous years. Nest success was affected this year by the above average snowfall, and late ice-out on many of the nesting lakes which were still frozen in early June. Rapid runoff resulted in flooding at a few sites also. Surveys of many backcountry lakes were also restricted in the early season due to lingering deep snow conditions. Productivity, however, over the study period has been above the 0.48 chicks surviving per territorial pair needed for population stability. Loons have been seen in recent years in the Wind River Range although no nesting pairs have been found. In the future, translocation of chicks may be considered to help expand the nesting population in Wyoming. Major threats to this population include human disturbance of nest sites, drought, and water quality. Mercury contamination, which has been a problem in New England loons, does not appear to be affecting Wyoming loons. All documentation of loons by Nature Mappers is greatly appreciated by BRI and the partner agencies to help in understanding the distribution and movements of this magnificent bird.
Click the image to enlarge and back button to get back to post. Photos by Mark Gocke, WGFD.
by Jon Mobeck, JHWF Executive Director
This is a little story about a deer and a fence in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where I am today.
I was driving down busy Excelsior Boulevard when I saw a doe and fawn gallop across two lanes, then a tree-lined median, then two more lanes and a sidewalk before the doe leapt over a short woven-wire fence that marked the boundary of a golf course. The fawn, however, had no idea how to do what its mother had just done. While at a stoplight, I watched the fawn slam face-first into the short fence, then scamper along the fence line for a hundred yards or so before smashing its nose into the wire again.
The fence is at far left of this picture of busy Excelsior Boulevard.
When the light turned green, I did a quick u-turn and pulled to the side of the shoulderless road. I activated my hazard lights and jumped out of the car to see if I could capture the fawn and help it over the fence – or at least shepherd it several hundred yards west to a gap in the fence. Neither of these things proved easy to do. The first few times I approached, the fawn blitzed by me racing full speed along the fence line before pausing to make another headlong charge into the woven wire. After many of the failed ramming efforts, the fawn would dart crazily back out into traffic. Although traffic was moving at about 45 mph on that stretch, the fawn fortunately found gaps as it darted about. It never crossed over the median again, always returning for another charge at the fence. Slam! Crash! The doe stood tall on the opposite side of the fence, and mirrored the fawn’s movement east and west along the fence. During all of this time, the fawn rarely ceased bleating, while the doe communicated in brief, huffing pleas.
For almost a quarter-mile, the fence was unbroken.
It was about 30 inches high.
As I tried, unsuccessfully, to shepherd or catch this panicked fawn, a young woman came running down the sidewalk toward me. She wanted to help. Without discussing strategies, we assumed the positions of border collies and tried to surround the fawn from opposite sides and “corner” it against the fence, hoping for a chance to catch it. This almost worked, but the fawn squeezed past the woman and darted back onto the road, except now the traffic had stopped, with the two lanes backed up, recognizing what was taking place and thankfully waiting for resolution. After we both watched the fawn race along the fence and slam into it a few more times, thinking it would never slow down, and never stop panicking, the fawn did slow down, and it did seem to stop panicking for a few seconds. It trotted back down the boulevard toward us and as it approached, it walked slowly toward the fence and stopped right between me and the woman. We formed a triangle with the momentarily calm fawn at top near the fence. We slowly stepped toward it and the fawn turned along the fence toward the woman and made a little leap as if to run, jumping (kind of miraculously) right into the woman’s arms, where she easily lifted it over the fence and set it down on the other side. It scampered away in a rush. The doe did not chase after it, but stood very erect, vocalizing. The doe stamped its feet, and took a few measured steps toward the crazed fawn, which was running endlessly, and in circles. After a few moments, the fawn slowed, and then galloped toward its mother.
I don’t know what happened to those deer after that moment, but they were safe for now. The woman and I high-fived each other. She remarked that she was a little worried that she might get kicked. I was impressed by her skill in corralling the bounding fawn in one giant bear hug, her willingness to risk injury, and her desire to help in the first place. Her car was pulled behind mine, also with its hazard lights flashing.
As we were high-fiving, we heard car horns honking in approval. A woman leaned from the driver seat toward the open passenger window to shout “thank you!” A man in a garbage truck yelled “good job!”
Although I sometimes hear people reprimand those who “anthropomorphize” wildlife, it’s impossible to witness an event such as this one and not understand the emotions, the stress, the communication, the concern experienced by a mother and its offspring. They are navigating this planet with us. We are sharing a life that will end with each of us representing a miniscule segment of the unfathomable span of history. No life is more important than any other.
At JHWF, we talk about creating permeable landscapes. We aren’t necessarily focused on how many animals die because of fences, or even how high our fences are – any uninterrupted fence can be a problem. We focus our efforts on how well we are ensuring that the large and small animals can move across a landscape we share with them. Where can and should we create gaps in a fence, for passage above and below? How can animals navigate our development, our neighborhoods, our roadways? A community that lives compatibly with wildlife considers these things daily.
Thanks to hundreds of volunteer heroes, the Wildlife Friendlier Fencing program has removed or modified 188 miles of fence, including nearly five miles this summer. A lot of fawns and calves have had an easier time because of this work. We often think about the height of a fence in relation to how high we know an adult deer or elk can jump. The story of a young whitetail deer in Minneapolis tells us we might benefit by expanding our thinking.
Next Saturday, August 26, we have a project in Game Creek on hillsides frequented by deer and elk. It’s a fence with three barbed wires and a top rail. It’s not hard to imagine a fawn approaching such a fence and trying to ram through it, as was the preference for the fawn in Minneapolis. If the bottom wire is high enough from the ground, the fawn might be able to sneak under, but in a panicked state with developing legs and unrefined navigation skills, it may not make it. So how many fawns and calves get separated from their mothers because of the barriers we raise?
Despite these concerns, what I’m left with after my experience with the deer and the fence in Minneapolis is the potential of people to do good things, to be of service to others, to embrace ethics that connect people with each other and to the wild things that live upon the same land. We have incredible potential, despite the degree to which our more suspicious natures question the goodness of people – a reflection of an increasingly skewed version of reality that focuses on every isolated negative activity within oceans of good deeds done daily, if quietly.
The young woman who stopped to help me inspires me, although I never learned her name. She took a few minutes out of her day to get a deer over a fence. The people who stopped their cars, those who honked, those who cheered and thanked us, they represent the better angels of our nature. We live in a world with beautifully wild things, and we are they.
Very recently an exclusive opportunity was made available to all certified Nature Mappers and 13 of them joined JHWF and scientist Anya Tyson on July 25 for a discussion on the Clark’s Nutcracker — a clever bird with a big conservation importance.
As the primary seed disperser of the whitebark pine, Clark’s Nutcrackers plays a critical role in our ecosystem (whitebark pine nuts are a key, high-energy food source for grizzly bears). Severe mountain pine beetle outbreaks and an introduced fungus — white pine blister rust — have caused the whitebark pine to decline across much of the northern Rockies. As forest managers attempt to restore and protect these alpine zones unique to places like Jackson Hole, they need more data on how nutcrackers are using our high-elevation forests, which can be challenging to obtain given the difficulty in sending larger numbers of researchers into the field, especially given the backcountry terrain.
For our private scoop on the latest news, we gathered at Bert’s Bench in the Murie Family Park and over a fresh brew of coffee, enjoyed an update from Anya about her citizen science work with students to conduct habitat surveys in relation to observations of Clark’s Nutcrackers in the backcountry. Anya also gave us an update on Dr. Taza Schaming’s research that uses Nature Mapping data alongside other datasets to model which habitat features best predict Clark’s Nutcracker presence in mountain landscapes. Her recommendations to land managers will help guide whitebark pine conservation and restoration efforts.
Keep a look out for this clever bird and enter your observations into the Nature Mapping Jackson Hole database under Casual Observations. Alternatively, for those active with Project Backyard be sure to notice and record if Clark’s are visiting your feeders later in the year.
Every data point logged for Clark’s Nutcracker will be useful for Anya’s project work and Dr. Taza Schaming’s research.
Anya would love to hear of any interesting stories related to your Clark’s Nutcracker observations and she encourages you to email her at: firstname.lastname@example.org. Learn more about the Clark’s Nutcracker Project here.
As one leaves the town of Jackson and heads north on HWY 89, a trail of nestboxes lines the fencing of the National Elk Refuge. These nestboxes are part of JHWF’s Mountain Bluebird Nestbox Monitoring Project, which is designed to mitigate for extreme habitat loss that has negatively impacted the breeding success of this species. Monitoring work has been conducted for the past 13 years, but this summer we added a new element to the project by hiring bird bander Allison Swan. With help from our volunteers, Allison has banded 98 chicks and 1 female adult since May.
With data collected through banding and the re-sighting of individuals, we will be able to evaluate survival rates of young, dispersal patterns, re-nesting rates, productivity by age, site fidelity, and other measures of population dynamics. This type of information will allow us to understand population status in Jackson Hole and to better inform land management decisions with respect to the Mountain Bluebird.
Almost all chicks born this summer have fledged their nests and now is the time to begin searching for our color-banded birds — 99 in total.
Already several banded birds have been re-sighted through the use of binoculars and spotting scopes. Our first sighting was a juvenile Mountain Bluebird who crossed the highway and was seen in the parking lot of the National Museum of Wildlife Art. Fledglings can fly quite well, but many are still being fed by the adults, which means they will often stay in place long enough to get a good look at colored-bands on their legs.
All Nature Mappers, we need your help re-sighting banded bluebirds! The most important data we need collected is location data and the color band scheme for each bird. Ideally, we would also like to collect additional data on behavior, substrate and plumage.
The color bands are noticeable and folks have been reporting that it is easy to read the colors, especially with use of binoculars. If you do not have binoculars, please stop by the Jackson Hole Wildlife Foundation office and borrow a pair! We have three scopes and two pair of binoculars for volunteers to borrow while conducting observations.
Download our Re-sighting Datasheet here. As you observe and record sightings of this year’s birds note each ones unique color combination. Datasheets should be given to our Associate Director, Kate Gersh at: Kate@jhwildlife.org. We also encourage the sharing of verbal reports by calling our office at: (307) 739-0968.
Thanks for the help!
Over the past several weeks, a unique situation was unfolding along our Mountain Bluebird Nestbox Monitoring Trail here in Jackson Hole. Thanks to a serious winter, flooding occurred in our area from fast melting, high altitude snow. Historic flood levels not witnessed in decades. On a Mountain Bluebird trail of 110 nestboxes, several north of town were underwater for weeks, but fortunately those boxes were empty. However, one box — Box #4 — managed to stay just above the flood waters and it held four baby chicks inside. As the Gros Ventre River continued to flow fast and furiously, these hatchlings grew older and days closer to fledging their nest. This posed a great conundrum for the staff of JHWF… .
If the chicks were to fledge into water they would inevitably die. We wondered if anyone had had success with moving a nestbox with chicks inside? We thought about trying to move the box down 75 yards south to dry land. These hatchlings would still need tending to by parents so our hope would be that disturbance wouldn’t cause them to abandon their chicks if the nestbox was moved to a nearby location. Our other option was to let nature take its course; although that felt a bit tough since we’re accountable for installing an artificial nesting cavity. JHWF’s nestbox monitoring project is supporting breeding success as a mitigation effort for habitat loss throughout the Mountain Bluebirds’ range. With only good intentions in mind, either decision we made, came bearing a level of responsibility. In thinking that we could give the chicks in Box #4 a fighting chance to survive, we set about on a relocation mission.
In recent days flood waters have receded! We’ve taken HUGE sighs of relief because our attempt to move the nestbox was unsuccessful due to tricky conditions navigating through water and muck. Three days ago, one of our volunteers saw two “unbanded” fledglings just south of Box #5. These birds must be from Box #4 because all other chicks on our Trail have been banded as part of the larger research project. An adult with food was also onsite yesterday. We choose to assume that the other two chicks also fledged to dry ground. When they finally fledge the nest, Mountain Bluebird chicks have all their flight feathers and it’s possible for them to fly at least 100 yards to start. Although, it’s well documented that they choose to drop to the ground first and stay there for a while. Somehow these chicks figured out that they needed to get distance on those wings right away. Fly on little bluebirds, fly on!
Photo: US Fish & Wildlife Service