Chicago Wildlife News

Crows slowly making comeback in Illinois

2010-03-05T12:54:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 3/8/10) Lee Ramsey, a retiree who volunteers for the Bird Conservation Network, keeps a feeder in his backyard, a once-popular destination for crows in winter.

Although Ramsey hasn't seen a single crow in his yard in Northfield for the past few years, he has hope that they are on their way.

"This year is notable because people have been seeing crows in flocks, small flocks, for the first time since the West Nile virus came through," said Ramsey.

The big black birds were killed off in droves in 2002, and all but disappeared from some neighborhoods in the Chicago region.

But many wildlife experts now say the crow is making a comeback, albeit a slow one.

"One possibility is that they're evolving to have immunity to the disease," said Mike Ward, an avian ecologist at the Illinois Natural History Survey.

Either way, the crow population has "popped up a little bit over the last couple of years," said Ward, who also is an assistant professor at the University of Illinois' department of natural resources and environmental sciences. "But it's still less than half of what the population was before West Nile virus hit."

In a U of I study in 2002, more than two-thirds of the crows monitored died. All the deceased birds tested positive for the virus, according to Sarah Hamer, who worked on the project as a graduate student and now works at Michigan State University.

"Very few birds that we took blood samples from, I think about 3 percent, had anti-bodies," said Hamer. "Meaning that, very few birds were being exposed and surviving."

Northwestern University's campus in Evanston used to have a lot of crows. Tim Spahn, the university's grounds services supervisor, said people often complained about the mess the crows left around campus. And when the West Nile virus struck, there were a lot of calls about dead birds.

While Spahn has been seeing crows again, they are not as much of a hassle. "I haven't had those calls, for the dead birds, and the problem areas haven't been as prevalent," he said.

Carol DiLorenzo, rental coordinator at The Grove nature center in Glenview, said there were a few years when she did not see or hear the noisy birds, which used to be there all the time.

Because The Grove is a preserve, it does not spray to kill mosquitoes, which spread the virus. DiLorenzo said that's one of the reasons crows were badly affected there.

"Last summer, I noticed a few [crows] and started to hear them a little bit, where I hadn't seen them at all," said DiLorenzo. "So that was exciting."

While other birds also were pummeled by the virus -- including chickadees and blue jays -- a lot of attention was paid to crows because they are more conspicuous, said Dave Willard, collection manager of the bird division at the Field Museum.

Although there is agreement that crows are repopulating, no one seems to be able to say at what rate. According to Willard, this is because there was not much of a record to begin with.

"I don't know how good our numbers were before West Nile even," he said. "That's the other problem with some of these things, because nobody really anticipated that we'd really need a baseline to compare it to."

By Michaela Ehimika, for ChicagoWildlifeNews.com
Contact: [email protected]

Zion man has eagle eye -- photographs golden eagle taking on a deer in the wild

2010-03-03T16:52:00.000-08:00

(UPDATED: 3/5/10) A 46-year-old bird enthusiast from Zion visited the Nachusa Grasslands a few weeks back with one main goal: catch a glimpse of a rare prairie falcon that had been spotted in the Downstate preserve.

Camera, binoculars and spotting scope in tow, Eric Walters ended up with something else: snapshots of a golden eagle hunting seemingly impossible prey -- a grown white-tailed deer.

"It was really, really exciting to see one," Walters said, referring to the golden eagle. "And to see one hunting, going for a kill -- I've never seen that before. And then to see a golden try to take something out significantly heavier . . . hunting a deer is off the charts."

It appears the deer got away, though perhaps with a few scrapes from the bird's razor-like talons.

And Walters -- whose day job is in IT at Discover card -- got away with what he regards as the pictures of a lifetime.

Using a digital Canon 50D, he captured the bird hovering, descending and pursuing the stunned deer. The shots spanned just about 35 seconds, but they've already created quite a buzz in "birder" circles, since Walters posted them on the Illinois Birders' Forum.

"I have seen one golden in Illinois [in the wild] and that was the sighting of my life, period," said Jacques Nuzzo, program director of the Illinois Raptor Center, a Decatur-based rehabilitation and educational center focusing primarily on birds of prey. "For this guy to be in that space at that time, man oh man, and he got photographs? . . . He's either real awesome or real lucky."

Goldens are fairly common out West but rare in Illinois, experts said. "You're only going to see them during migration, and it's not like a flock of them come through," said the raptor center's executive director, Jane Seitz.

They're often confused with younger bald eagles because of their coloring.

Golden eagles, which are federally protected, can grow to 12 or more pounds with a wing span of seven-plus feet. They're also found in parts of Europe, Asia and Africa, and still are used by some falconers to hunt. (They can strike at speeds of well over 100 mph.)

While rodents are a big part of the golden eagle diet, they also will attack "mountain sheep, squirrels, caribou, coyotes, cranes, swans, immature peregrine falcons, snakes, frogs and fish," according to the Carolina Raptor Center, which puts their hunting "success rate" at about 30 percent.

While it's not unheard of for a golden to go after a deer, it's certainly unusual, experts said.

"It's not typical, it's not something they're normally going to do," said Brian Millsap, an eagle, owl and hawk expert with the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service in Albuquerque. But, "it's certainly not out of the question."

"When they get really hungry, when things are extremely tight, they'll take all kinds of things," said Millsap. "I've watched golden eagles take pronghorn antelope out West."

As another indication how word has spread about Walters' photos -- snapped Feb. 13 near the border of Ogle and Lee counties, two hours west of Chicago -- Millsap said he heard about them before even being contacted by a reporter.

"To capture that on film is great," Millsap said. "What that tells you is there's the average thing that any critter does, and there are the extremes that you don't see that often -- but they're there."

Walters, who grew up in Glen Ellyn, still is amazed not only that he captured the hunt on camera, but that the eagle tried to pull it off.

"From our point of view it's real ballsy, but from the eagle's perspective, I believe he really thought he could do it."

Click here and here for more coverage.

By Robert Herguth, for ChicagoWildlifeNews.com
Contact: [email protected]

Photo credit: Pictures courtesy of Eric Walters

NEW COLUMN: The Nature of DuPage, by Carl Strang

2010-02-25T11:19:00.001-08:00

(POSTED: 3/1/10) Remember the periodical cicadas? In 2007 they were big news, as they are every 17 years when they emerge in the millions in the Chicago area. After a spectacular and noisy few weeks the adults died, and we forgot about them. They never left us, however. They're still around, even now, the tiny nymphs that hatched from eggs the adults left in the twigs of trees and shrubs. Late in the summer of 2007 the eggs hatched, the nymphs dropped to the ground and tunneled or followed soil cracks to reach small plant roots. There they fed on sap until they grew a little and shed their skins (exoskeletons), entering their second nymphal stage, or instar. At that point they entered a biologically significant period where they remain to this day, a quiescent four-year time of little or no growth.

This current stage in their lives is what sets our 17-year cicadas apart from the southern species, which show a similar emergence every 13 years. Each of the three northern 17-year species has a corresponding, more southern, 13-year relative. Lacking dormancy in their second instar, the 13-year cicadas grow throughout their nymphal lives and so emerge that much sooner. This time of year is an appropriate season to bring out this topic, because the leading explanation for this difference is the length, severity, and relative unpredictability of cool northern weather. Waiting longer between emergences reduces the chance that the cicadas will come out in an unfavorable year. This may have been more of a danger in glacial times, when the long lifespans and differences in emergence interval are thought to have evolved.

Researchers have found that the cicadas are not absolutely rigid in their developmental timing. I am not talking here about the few aberrant individuals who come out a year early or a year late, but rather about a phenomenon for which the Chicago area was the first documented case. In 1969, four years before the expected 1973 emergence in northeast Illinois, a percentage of periodical cicadas emerged in many of our communities. If you do the math, you will realize that for some reason this “shadow brood” must have skipped the dormancy stage, and behaved like their southern, 13-year cousins. This off-year emergence was well documented by Monte Lloyd, a Field Museum scientist who was one of his day’s leading periodical cicada researchers. He expected those atypical insects to be picked off by predators, and that would be that. However, they came out again in 1986, and again in 2003, apparently having resumed their usual 17-year lifespan.

I conducted a geographical and historical survey of periodical cicadas in DuPage County in 2007. As I mapped their emergence (incidentally discovering an interesting association between cicada distribution, commuter railways and agricultural history), I found a curious hole around the communities of Wood Dale and Addison. Those adjacent cities had practically no cicadas in 2007, but subsequent interviews and research revealed that they had experienced a significant emergence in 2003. It appears that their entire cicada population has made a shift to the shadow brood timing. So in those towns, it seems likely that the underground nymphs now are past their dormant period and in their major growth phase, pointing toward a 2020 emergence. I plan to be there to map them.

So, as you walk through a forested area or neighborhood where periodical cicadas are established, you may want to spare a thought for those millions of nymphs. They are all around you, quietly biding their time down in the soil, aiming toward their big year of 2020 or 2024, as the case may be.

By Carl Strang, who has been an interpretive naturalist for the Forest Preserve District of DuPage County for more than 28 years. He holds a Ph.D. in wildlife ecology from Purdue University. Carl has won awards from the Illinois Wildlife Federation and from the National Association for Interpretation. He is the author of the book, Interpretive Undercurrents, on the art of natural history interpretation. His weekly radio spot, "Wild Things," is broadcast from the College of DuPage radio station (WDCB, 90.9FM) on Monday evenings between 6:00 and 6:30. Current research interests include distribution and ecology of singing insects, and winter movement patterns and social structure of Canada geese.

The heron now

2010-02-21T19:24:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 2/22/10) Great blue herons are getting a little wing support in Lake County.

Dozens of volunteers recently descended on Almond Marsh near Grayslake to help the lanky, majestic bird -- by building them nests.

In all, 11 were built over two wintry days this month, and they'll join another artificial bird home that was previously constructed.

With fewer trees around to serve as nests, the towering metal structures should provide a refuge for herons and their young.

"If you look around on the dead trees, [there] are . . . naturally made nests," said Allison Frederick of the Lake County Forest Preserve District, which the marsh is part of. "But these trees are declining, some are falling down."

The man-made nests will provide a safe option for the birds, which can stand at about three to four feet high with a six-foot wingspan.

By Anthony Diggs, for ChicagoWildlifeNews.com
Contact: [email protected]

Des Plaines River Journal: The inward life of winter

2010-02-14T21:55:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 2/15/10) Winter's white velvet cover has overlaid Dam Number Four Woods since well before the New Year. It was indeed a white Christmas. Snow brings purity to the landscape, and a temporary blessing of that snowfall is the disappearance of litter. The woods are quiet, summer parties have ceased and many of the bird species have migrated south for the winter. Now, soft angled winter light, often veiled by clouds, arrives each morning like a guest that will not stay long. Days are about nine hours long at solstice time near the end of December. My walks must wait for the weekends, as I arrive home from my work well after sunset at this time of year.

A heavy snowfall has settled in, and animal tracks punctuate the main walking trails. They also reveal slender game trails, less obvious in other seasons, that slither through the woods. And, on this morning's quiet walk, I met a sort of creature that I had not seen in this area before: a man in snow shoes. He uses them, he said, for exercise, and also for the adventure of walking off the beaten path upon deeper, untracked snow. I also recall a cold weather oddity from last winter: on a small, frozen backwater pond surrounded by these woods, two hearty fellows had set up hockey nets, donned their skates, and started a one-on-one game of hockey. Baffled, I observed them from the trail, as each man strived to play both offense and defense, and to tend goal when needed. Surely there are better circumstances in which to play the great northern sport, I thought. "It's great!" one player hollered in explanation after a slap-shot. "This is where hockey should be played!"

During a recent cold snap, much of the river has frozen over, but this year I have not ventured out on it yet. It will take a few more days of sub-freezing temperatures before I would dare it. Several years ago, during an extended cold snap, I did walk on the river, mindful of thin ice, after seeing quite a few other hikers safely making their way along it one afternoon. As I have not yet canoed this river, walking its icy surface gave me views of the river and its environments not easily obtained from the shoreline.

Walking the snow and ice-covered Des Plaines made clear for me that rivers such as this one were once truly major thoroughfares. First Americans and early traders slid down these watery super-highways, seeing the views of wooded banks I now see. Even a few yards away from the river, signs of modern times accumulate, but when directly on the river, enfolded by bankside growth, things must look something like they always have. Traffic overhead and airplane noise are nearly constant, so things unfortunately do not much sound like they once did. But I like to think that these from-the-river views are historic.

Perhaps Henry David Thoreau had similar thoughts and feelings, when he wrote, in his lovely essay, A Winter Walk, of a winter skate down a New England river: ". . . [W]e will take a journey on skates along the course of this meandering river . . . following the winding of the stream, now flowing amid hills, now spreading out into fair meadows, and forming a myriad coves and bays where the pine and hemlock overarch. The river flows in the rear of the towns, and we see all things from a new and wilder side . . . Our feet glide swiftly over unfathomed depths, where in summer our line tempted the pout and perch, and where the stately pickerel lurked in the long corridors formed by the bulrushes."

After a detailed description of his extended skating expedition, Thoreau allows that winter's short days, colder temperatures and sober colors invite contemplation. "In winter we lead a more inward life. We enjoy now . . . leisure, around warm stoves and fireplaces, and watch the shadows of motes in the sunbeams." It is a time, he reminds us, for hunkering down, for storytelling, for expansion of the soul. "Now commences," he concludes after his walk, "the long winter evening around the farmer's hearth, when [our] thoughts . . . travel far abroad, and men are by nature and necessity charitable and liberal to all creatures."

Some have criticized Thoreau for romanticizing nature, yet I believe that he simply valued it. He embraced what the natural world can bring to us at any time of year, however inhospitable the conditions. With this thought in mind, I headed inside, towards my own hearth, and to watch "the shadows of motes in the sunbeams" for a time.
　
By Jeff Wagner, for ChicagoWildlifeNews

Jeffrey Wagner, a graduate of Northwestern University and Indiana University, is a Chicago-area musician and writer who has published numerous articles in Clavier Magazine, and other journals. Since boyhood, he has loved the outdoors, and has hiked, camped and back-packed all over the United States.

Contact: [email protected] or [email protected]

Photo by Stew Cherlin

Coyote decoys becoming popular tool to scare off geese

2010-02-01T19:20:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 2/8/10) Whether they're visitors or permanent residents, Canada geese mean one thing for groundskeepers at Chicago-area golf courses, parks and fields: trouble.

The birds devour grass, and leave tons of droppings -- and with no predators in many spots, and federal law shielding them, the geese are tough to get rid of.

But more places are turning to another pest in the region for help: the coyote.

Or, more to the point, coyote decoys.

Notre Dame College Prep in Niles is among them. The all-boys Catholic high school decided to try scaring off the birds by installing wooden coyote look-a-likes around campus. And there's been some success.

"Since we put them up in November, I've seen geese here twice," said Robert Beckman, the school's manager of operations.

Before the decoys, there used to be about 60 geese on the fields every day, Beckman said.

German Gomez, Notre Dame's grounds director (shown below), made the faux coyotes -- using plywood, paint and a metal pole -- because stores were out of stock of the pre-made variety.

But his version works roughly the same: the shaft is inserted in the ground and the decoy swivels in the wind.

Fred Gullen, grounds superintendent at the Glenview Park District, got his coyote decoys for $39 online, but is not as impressed with them.

While they are cheaper than other forms of goose prevention, the agency still uses green lasers, "poppers," which are like firecrackers, and border collies, in addition to decoys.

"They're not totally effective all by themselves, they have to be used with other things, too," said Gullen.

Roy Domazlicky, the Illinois Department of Natural Resources' urban waterfowl project manager, said he has heard complaints and praise about coyote decoys.

"Some people say that they've worked really well, and some have said it didn't work very well at all, it worked for a short period of time, and then stopped working," said Domazlicky. "And the reason for all that, is hard to say. I don't know for sure if those people were using them correctly or not."

For coyote decoys to be effective, Domazlicky said they need to be moved around at least once a day, and they work best in small areas.

"If you leave it in one spot, the geese figure out very quickly that it's not alive and it's not a threat," he said.

Regardless of whether they are effective or not, Domazlicky said they have become more popular.

"It used to be something you had to get online, or some people would just kind of make, if they were pretty handy. They would just cut out a piece of plywood or something in the shape of a dog and put it out there," said Domazlicky. "But it seems like now they're just a lot more available. You can go to some garden centers, I see them for sale now in hardware stores, places like that."

Bird-X, a Chicago company that makes coyote decoys, definitely has seen an increase in sales, said executive Joe Seid, but he would not provide particulars.

His firm's coyotes include 3-D plastic models, which rotate in the wind, come with furry tails and cost $59 each.

Meanwhile, geese aren't the only ones known to fall for the fake coyotes.

"We see people staring at them, and then they realize that it's not moving and then eventually they figure out that they're decoys," Gullen said. "They fool people."

By Michaela Ehimika, for ChicagoWildlifeNews.com
Contact: [email protected]

NEW COLUMN: Inside the Outdoors -- Why Groundhog Day matters

2010-01-25T19:36:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 2/1/10) Groundhog Day? Could there be a sillier, more irrelevant holiday?

It doesn't honor one of our nation's heroes or commemorate an important historical event. It isn't a religious observance or a celebration our diverse culture (e.g. St Patrick's Day or Chinese New Year.) My kids could care less about such a holiday that has no traditional songs, no greeting cards at Hallmark, no TV specials (okay, there is a movie), and no magical being that delivers goodies. It doesn't even show up on my Sierra Club calendar! Arbor Day gets more respect.

Isn't it silly to gather on a cold February morning to watch a sleepy, fat squirrel hauled out of its hole to predict the next six weeks of weather?

Of course it is!

Who would believe there is any correlation between the weather conditions on one particular day and the severity of winter in the weeks that follow? It defies rational thinking! The respected (and federally funded) National Climate Data Center compared 12 years of predictions from Punxatawny Phil, the most well-known Groundhog Day groundhog, with actual climate data and found "no predictive skill" in the analysis of the animal's ability.

Even if it were true, why would the shadow (or lack thereof) cast by a wild animal be more indicative than the shadows of everything else casting shadows on the same day? What is so special about Marmota monax? (Er, that's Latin for a woodchuck, and oh, that's the more accepted common name for a groundhog.)

Silly and irrational it is without doubt. However, get ready for a shock because Groundhog Day, with its chubby marmot and shadowy meteorology is TOTALLY RELEVANT!

Follow me on a bit of backward history.

You see, the shadow-watching custom of Groundhog Day was brought to us by German-speaking immigrants who came to America in waves during the 18th century. Many German-American settlements sprang up in Pennsylvania, where the town of Punxatawny and its woodchuck Phil have become the hallmark representatives of the holiday.

Those immigrants had a folk saying that predicted the arrival of spring (or extension of winter) based on the shadow cast by an animal emerging from hibernation on the day of Candlemas, a Christian holiday on Feb. 2. Around 1887, the annual tradition of Groundhog Day began to be widely popularized in the American media. It gained steady attention and now, festivities in Punxatawny and many other places in America draw thousands of the faithful and the fanciful, and there is hardly a TV meteorologist that doesn't pay lip service to their animal colleagues.

I don't know if those 18th century people gave any credence to the notion of forecasting the weather this way, but with modern tools of meteorology, the logic of Groundhog Day seems foolish and its results have been proven inaccurate. So, let's go back in time a little more for some insight. Predictive weather sayings (like the one about the shadow) hearken back to a time when meteorology did not exist and when
agrarian communities depended on the return of spring for their very survival.

Imagine you are a peasant farmer of Medieval Europe. Winter is going strong and food supplies are dwindling. Any sign that spring was returning is a cause to rejoice. The Celtic cultures in pre-Christian Europe (best represented now in Ireland) invented their own holiday around this time called Imbolc, which meant "ewe's milk."
It must have been great to finally have some fresh milk when the alternative was starvation. So it went that folk sayings about the weather and festivals to observe the signs of spring evolved to give the people a glimmer of hope during a desperate time.

Nowadays, unless you are a subsistence farmer, variations on the yearly climate really don't carry the weight of life and death anymore. Still, the annual observance by this strange cult speaks deeply to a universal yearning among all of us who live in a winter-bound place. By the time February gets here, who isn't tired of the snow and icy roads, pained by the freezing cold, or depressed by the darkness?

I say we need a holiday right about now to remind us that winter will not last forever. Even as the hibernating animals return from the underworld, so is the
world of flowers and warm rains due for its re-birth.

This year, don't let Groundhog Day pass by without a thought. This is a wakeup call from nature. Bless the candles and join us in breathless anticipation of Marmota monax and its shadow.

For those adventurers thinking of seeking out your own wild woodchuck, be warned. In our part of the animals' range woodchucks rarely emerge from their dens earlier than the beginning of March. Just in time for Pulaski Day?

By Brian Winters, for ChicagoWildlifeNews.com
Contact: [email protected]

Brian Winters' life work is to build positive relationships between people and nature through the preservation of natural lands and the delivery of interpretive educational messages. Since 2000, Brian has been a naturalist at the River Trail Nature Center in the Forest Preserve District of Cook County. Brian has been working in the field of environmental education for 15 years, serving at local and county nature centers, as well as the Chicago Academy of Sciences and the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum. Brian lives in the northern suburbs with his wife and two children.

Des Plaines River Journal: On the rubbish in our forests

2010-01-04T19:44:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 1/11/10) The joys of being in the woods near my home are many. In these woods I have walked, jogged, napped, cross-country skied, sat in quiet reflection, and conversed actively with friends and loved ones. The woods in the Dam Number Four Forest Preserve are a haven, offering comfort, peace of mind, solace, healing, and sometimes just plain fun.

Yet there is a painful aspect to my visits there: litter. There is much of it, too much. In spring the Des Plaines River runs at its highest, and after it recedes, it leaves an impressive variety of junk. The exposed flood plain areas are left cluttered with durable, man-made waste carried along and then deposited by the river. The things I've found out there astonish. I cannot even name all of them! They include, beer, wine, and soft drink bottles and cans (both glass and plastic), all manner of containers and bags (does plastic last forever?), shoes, articles of clothing, pieces of furniture floating down the river, and -- amazingly -- a small refrigerator (the dorm room kind) stuck in a strainer tree extending out into the river.

Although I do not much like labels when applied to people, I'll accept for myself that of "environmentalist." I believe that all environmentalists are offended by litter in our natural outdoor places. Some of the litter that the river brings to its flood plains each spring, I have heard, had been properly disposed of, after which an overflowing sewage system forced it back into the river. Most of the litter I see, however, has certainly been discarded by careless hands. I recall walking along a trail one summer evening not far behind a young couple holding hands. The young man carried in his free hand a paper cup (with lid and straw) of the sort sold by fast-food chains for soft-drinks. After the fellow slurped the final dregs from the cup, I observed with horror that he then casually dropped it on the trail beside him and, without breaking step, moved on with his girlfriend.

I was shocked (remember, I'm an environmentalist!), considered saying something to him, recalled past times I'd done that and met consistently with hostility, and decided to remain silent. On my return walk later that evening I picked up the cup up and disposed of it. Was the thoughtlessness I saw in this young person the crime of the century? Hardly. Obviously no one was harmed directly by his actions. As far as I know, our laws don't make much of littering. We are for the most part free to supervise ourselves, and to police ourselves at will.

It is distressing to see so much of our forest preserves punctuated with waste. Environmental groups, commendably, conduct cleanup days from time to time. I once participated with the Sierra Club in a cleanup of the North Branch of the Chicago River. Other volunteer groups do the same sort of thing from time to time: for example, the Friends of the Cook County Forest Preserves, and Friends of the Chicago River, bless them. Sometimes I take a plastic bag along with me when hiking and put trash into it along my way. A staff member at the River Trail Nature Center recently told me that he and other staff members do the same when they are working and walking within the boundaries of that nature center. The trail maintenance crews of the Cook County Forest Preserve District also periodically do what they can.

I've read the arguments of -- what shall I call them? -- "not-environmental" or "anti-environmental" people who point out that refuse has been produced by cultures throughout history. Indeed, contemporary archaeologists and anthropologists focus on the study of older cultures' waste, and deduce a great deal about how they lived from what they threw away and eliminated. While providing context, I nevertheless don't buy this as much of a defense for modern litterbugs. There are, of course, differing views on the offensiveness of waste. Some cultures may find it more acceptable than I do. Studies have long shown, however, that the amount of per capita waste by North Americans is disproportionately high when compared to other cultures now and in the past. We surely throw out a lot, far more than our parents and grandparents did, to be sure.

An increasingly large part of the world is industrialized and therefore produces longer lasting and more destructive waste by-products. We have grown into a technical culture that generally values the natural world less than indigenous and rural cultures do. The blessings of recent cultural and technical developments are many and I enjoy them as much as anyone, I believe. Before technical culture arrived we did not have to worry much over the environment, except to ensure that it could continue to produce food and water. Nowadays, we do need to worry over it, and to set aside natural preserves. We have come to understand that if we did not do so, all areas of nature would be overcome by modern development, if not exploitation. As the Ken Burns documentary "The National Parks" shows, the designation of public natural areas was largely an American idea, and we Americans ought to be proud that some of us ushered that idea into reality.

The idea of setting aside nature preserves, such as the Cook County Forest Preserves, is certainly not without complications. To what state exactly shall we return these preserves, and how? What is "pristine?" What is "natural?" Shall hunting or harvesting (picking berries, or herbal matter, for example) be allowed? Answers to these questions, debated and written into public policy, are not always satisfying to all. Yet, certainly we can agree that man-made refuse, especially metals and plastics of astonishingly long durability should not be part of the landscape.

I recall from my boyhood the first Mayer Daley's campaign, "Keep Chicago Clean." That slogan lacked today's marketing cleverness. The phrase, "Don't Be a Litterbug," also appeared on signs around city and suburbs. How naïve that campaign now seems, yet how utterly good and right it was.

By Jeff Wagner, for ChicagoWildlifeNews

Jeffrey Wagner, a graduate of Northwestern University and Indiana University, is a Chicago-area musician and writer who has published numerous articles in Clavier Magazine, and other journals. Since boyhood, he has loved the outdoors, and has hiked, camped and back-packed all over the United States.

Contact: [email protected] or [email protected]

Wild Musings: On snow, and raccoon "highways"

2010-01-02T20:10:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 1/4/10) One of my favorite things about winter is the markings in the snow. The hobnailed boot prints of the postman on the stairs. The four-square hop mark left by a leaping squirrel. The sneaky slide of our local opossum. And, when we're lucky, wing prints of a hawk whose snow angel is accompanied by a spatter of blood and a bit of fur.

Each imprint has a tale to tell.

But by far my favorites are the raccoon highways in the woods. Walking in winter once there is a proper amount of snow, raccoon trails are suddenly visible everywhere.

There is something impossibly wonderful to me about the idea of raccoons striding their superhighway each evening. Absolutely flattened by repeated use, the trails leave the impression that the animals are busy, on their way somewhere important. Like crepuscular commuters rushing to the train, the raccoons seem to head out in the evening: down the tree, along the ridge, down to the river, under a log and back again. Everywhere and anywhere, seeking food in the stark winter forest -- always moving with purpose. If you had a remote control car you could use the trails for track.

On sunny days at LaBagh Woods, the closest for us and therefore easiest for a quick dog walk, during the day the raccoons can be seen slung drunkenly over the tops of dead trees. Paws akimbo, heads hanging upside down, they don't look like they mind winter a bit. On darker days, they are snuggled nose to tail in the snags and holes in the dead trees which surround the ephemeral wetland along the North Branch there. Some days at dusk we've seen a great horned owl on a snag there, too, maybe lying in wait for raccoons.

Several years ago I bought a book about animals in winter, curious about the raccoons, deer, ducks and other local wildlife and what happens to them when it is cold. The book, Winter World: the Ingenuity of Animal Survival, by Bernd Heinrich, was a fascinating read and included evidence that bird wings and feathers may have developed to protect their bodies from rain and cold, and that flight was just a bonus.

The book did not answer my questions about raccoons, but cursory research on-line indicates that raccoons do not follow my superhighways so often as it seems. Instead raccoons, whose diet consists largely of invertebrates and plants which can be harder to find in winter, actually experience winter rest, a state of reduced activity so that they do not waste their energy struggling through the snow and cold.

Not having studied raccoons myself, I am going to have to believe that true . . . and it must be better for the raccoons than slogging through the snow.

But when you take your next walk, take a good look, and I think you may see something, too.

Margaret Frisbie is the executive director of Friends of the Chicago River, a nonprofit organization that works to improve and protect the Chicago River for the people, plants and animals who share our watershed. A lifelong wildlife enthusiast who grew up hiking our forest preserves and canoeing our streams, Frisbie lives on Chicago's Northwest Side where, despite its urban environment, wildlife is never too far from her door.

The story of hawks, local and otherwise

2010-01-02T20:09:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 1/4/10) There was a tremendous story in the paper the other day, about a Ferruginous hawk that apparently was hit by a train in western Canada, became stuck in the train's plow until the bird was rescued hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away, in Chicago.

It made me think of our hawks, the ones that reside here in the Chicago region, particularly the red-tailed variety.

If there's any doubt that these birds are among us, take a drive down Interstate 55, as I did this past weekend en route to St. Louis.

I counted 13 hawks -- all, I believe red-tailed (shown above, in captivity at the River Trail Nature Center) -- between Chicago and the Springfield area. They either were on light poles, or on fence posts and trees along the shoulders, or flying near the roadway.

It still amazes me how they can live in urban -- or at least fairly well-populated -- areas, including along the Kennedy Expy. on the Northwest Side of Chicago, where one regularly patrols the grassy shoulders.

By Robert Herguth, for ChicagoWildlifeNews
Contact: [email protected]

A squirrel and a plastic ring

2009-12-13T12:56:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 1/4/10) This photo might be a little tough to make out at first, but it involves a squirrel with a ring around it's neck -- one of those plastic rings at the mouth of milk gallons.

(If you click on the picture, it should enlarge for a better view.)

This guy apparently acquired its necklace from my recycling can, which, along with the regular garbage, is treated by the local squirrel population like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Perhaps this is a lesson to start snipping such rings before throwing them in the trash or recycling bin.

By Robert Herguth, for ChicagoWildlifeNews
Contact: [email protected]

Wild Musings: On a coyote, killing wolves and keeping out Asian carp

2009-12-04T10:10:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 12/14/09) The coyote we saw on the banks of the Chicago River recently while canoeing was profoundly beautiful. Unperturbed by the stream of canoes, he graciously waited for everyone in our group to get a look before dodging lightly around a tree and out of sight. The majestic profile (pictured below) tranquil under an exposed tree root reminded me of how sad I was to learn about the wolves pointlessly shot outside Yellowstone, freed from the protection of the Endangered Species Act but no longer the hunters' guns.

Decades after we completely understand the meaning of predators to the ecosystem, why did we allow this unnecessary killing to take place?

In about 1985, I made my first personal charitable contribution ever, which was $5 to help reestablish those wolves. That $5, however minimal, helped restore the predator-prey relationship needed to reestablish a healthy ecosystem and benefit all the plants and animals that live there. It was exhilarating to be part of it, bringing life back to wilderness. I remember feeling connected and proud when the first wolves were released. Over time, massive improvements in biodiversity and ecosystem recovery proved the wilderness needed the wolves.

The way that our society interacts with wildlife is decidedly odd. On one hand, we spend millions to save the last of the whooping cranes, creating puppet parents and flying ultra-lights cross country to lead them to winter feeding grounds. On the other hand, as if we couldn't predict the outcome, we fell the boreal forests, bulldoze wetlands and floodplains, and shoot the wolves in the West. Then we wonder where the songbirds went, why there are no frogs, and how come the deer have overrun the planet.

A good example right now of this kind of disjointed thinking is the poisoning of thousands of the fish in the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal: 200,000 pounds of fish -– a massive number considering that some of them, like the gizzard shad, weigh fractions of a pound.

The trouble addressed is the spread of Asian bighead and silver carp into the Great Lakes like they have the Illinois River. Rapacious eaters, the carp munch away at plankton at the bottom of the food chain and slowly devastate the ecosystem. The poisoning is meant to stop carp from passing past the carp prevention system or "fish barrier" while routine maintenance on it takes place.

This solution, which is supported as an emergency measure by many environmental groups and the Illinois Department of Natural Resources, seems most expedient given the enormous impact the carp will have if they reach Lake Michigan . . . yet the carp have been on their way here since 1993.

If we were so concerned about devastating the Great Lakes and its $7 billion fishing industry, why did we wait until the carp were at the gate? Why didn't we throw money and talent at the problem and treat it like the emergency it is now then?

As a society we need to think differently about our environment and our wildlife.

We need to cherish and treasure it. We need to think globally, act locally, and reward elected officials who are willing to go on the record in support of actual long-term solutions that fix problems -- not just delays them into the future. We need to invest in our wild areas, urban and otherwise. We need to protect our fish, our coyotes, our birds . . . and we need to stop shooting wolves.

Margaret Frisbie is the executive director of Friends of the Chicago River, a nonprofit organization that works to improve and protect the Chicago River for the people, plants and animals who share our watershed. A lifelong wildlife enthusiast who grew up hiking our forest preserves and canoeing our streams, Frisbie lives on Chicago's Northwest Side where, despite its urban environment, wildlife is never too far from her door.

Backing up the birds as they pass through Chicago

2009-11-29T21:26:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 11/30/09) It's 5:30 a.m. on a chilly Saturday, and while most folks remain comfortable in bed, a small band of volunteers make their way on foot through the Loop, scanning the sidewalks and bases of buildings.

Armed with paper bags and what appear to be butterfly nets, they are an odd sight -- but not a unique one.

Every day this is repeated, as members of the Chicago Bird Collision Monitors look for migrating birds that have run afoul of Chicago's skyscrapers and lay injured or dazed on the ground.

"The program initially only had a handful of people," the CBCM's director, Annette Prince, said recently in an interview with ChicagoWildlifeNews. "We'd have just one person go out per day and try to look for all the birds by themselves. Now we have over 100 volunteers."

Founded in 2003 by Robbie Hunsinger after she witnessed a particularly bloody night in the fall 2002 migratory season, the group is under the wing of the Chicago Audubon Society.

Prince, a language and speech pathologist by day, took over as director in 2005, and describes her volunteer work with the CBCM as "a job and a half."

But it's a labor of love, and more people seem to be embracing the cause.

"I think the awareness of the public has increased," Prince said. "They're making changes to help the birds and letting us know when they see injured birds. They have the eyes and ears that we need."

(There's a web site, and a hotline the public can use to report injured birds.)

A big change came in 2004 when the "Lights Out Chicago" initiative was started. Chicago was one of the first U.S. cities to have big buildings go temporarily dark during migration seasons, making it easier for migratory birds to identify glass windows as a solid surface -- and therefore avoid them.

Collisions, of course, still happen, which is why CBCM has a partnership with the Willowbrook Wildlife Center in the west suburbs. Injured birds are taken there for medical care and, hopefully, a release back into the wild.

Sandy Woltman, a wildlife specialist at Willowbrook, occasionally goes out on rounds to search for injured birds, but most of the time helps rehab them.

Birds can spend anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks at the center. "It depends on the injury," Woltman said. "If they have a fracture that needs to heal, it can be several weeks."

Once the birds are well, they are released to continue their migration.

The majority of the birds helped by CBCM are found in the downtown area, but the group's reach extends far beyond Chicago. Calls to the hotline come from all over -- including the Bahamas.

"It was pretty funny," Prince said of that long-distance call. "There was a woman who was in her condominium in the Bahamas and a bird hit the window of her patio." Prince was happy to provide guidance over the phone, and about an hour later the bird flew away safely.

But Chicago is the group's main focus.

Prince would love to see an ordinance passed here making it mandatory for downtown buildings to dim their lights during fall and spring migration seasons.

"Chicago sets an example," Prince said. "Cities like San Francisco, Boston and Baltimore have talked to us about light reduction programs. I think that making it an ordinance would be a fantastic way to say that this is the right thing to do."

For those interested in helping out the cause -- but not ready to disrupt Saturday- morning sleep -- even turning off lights at home or shutting the blinds can help, Prince said.

By Lindsey Malkus, for ChicagoWildlifeNews
Contact: [email protected]

Photos: Above birds were rescued by CBCM. Clockwise pictures: indigo bunting, blackburnian warbler, black-throated green warbler

Outfoxing traffic in Loop a tough task for one critter

2009-11-20T21:14:00.000-08:00

(POSTED: 11/23/09) It apparently couldn't outfox traffic in downtown Chicago.

A dead fox (presumably a red fox, like the one shown here) was found in the inbound lanes of the Ohio feeder ramp Nov. 13 -- not as exotic a find as a coyote in the Loop, but still not an everyday discovery.

"The fox was picked up . . . by an IDOT maintenance crew" and taken to a maintenance yard and disposed of, said Illinois Department of Transportation spokeswoman Marisa Kollias.

With the Chicago River getting cleaner, "we have seen more wildlife," she added.
The carcass was found just west of the waterway, which "is a great corridor for foxes," said Margaret Frisbie of Friends of the Chicago River. "I have seen one at [the woods] . . . at Foster and Cicero and the North Branch," and she knows of others spotted at Horner Park.

Kollias did not immediately have details on how the recently found creature was disposed of.

By ChicagoWildlifeNews
Contact: [email protected]

Des Plaines River Journal: The seasons of our lives

2009-10-25T15:15:00.000-07:00

(POSTED: 10/26/09) Fall temperatures came a bit early to the Dam Number Four Woods on the Des Plaines River (some would say as early as July!), and fall colors a bit late. Now, as I walk in mid-October, maple leaves are tipped with red and yellow, my nose and fingers tipped with a chill. As colored, dead leaves accumulate upon the forest floor, small scampering rodents make enough noise to startle you, as though an entire person were lumbering your way.

After Labor Day, there are fewer hikers and bikers out on the trails, though fine weekend weather still brings out forest lovers. Families, sometimes with romping dogs, swish through leafy trails. Runners from nearby Maine South High School, collegial groups of both boys and girls, whiz through the woods at times. On Saturday afternoons when Maine South is playing football at home, the sounds of the public address announcer and half-time marching bands echo through the woods near Devon Avenue.

Any change of season might remind us of an old proverb, "life is change," but fall seems particularly to be that time of year that causes our thoughts to turn towards transitions and losses. Spring speaks of hope -- of what might be -- yet autumn, even in the midst of brilliant color, speaks of what was and is no more. It was a cool and lovely summer here. Now it is over, and we head towards the sharp and lengthy cold of a Midwestern winter, while lingering in fall's golden glow for a time.

For just over 100 years, many Chicagoans have enjoyed a yearly re-printing of John T. McCutcheon's beloved column, "Indian Summer." This column, with accompanying cartoon by the author, first appeared in the Chicago Tribune in September of 1907. In an imaginary conversation, a grandfather tells his grandson, as they look out over an Indiana cornfield, of the spirits and shades of American Indians that yet haunt the rural landscape. If you "look real hard," Grandpa tells the boy, you'll see that the corn shocks are really teepees, and that smoke in the air comes not from burning leaves but Indian campfires and pipes. Like the Scottish villagers in "Brigadoon," McCutcheon's Indian shades make a yearly appearance, and then vanish.

The tone of McCutcheon's column is poignant, nostalgic. I often have wondered as I have walked these woods, and especially in autumn, about these first Americans. Like McCutcheon's boy, I have strained to picture them -- their villages, their campfires, their lodgings, and the songs and dances that surely echoed through the forest here. What were their formal ceremonies and proceedings like? About what did they speak in informal, everyday moments? What did they eat, and how did they prepare their food? What did they wear?

Collectors, museums and nature centers throughout the area display arrow heads, axes and other stone tools. Some of our local place names are derived from Indian words ("Chicageau" is a Frenchman's attempt at an Indian word for "wild onion." And "Michigan" is an approximation of another Indian term.) Of immediate evidence of their lives here, there is not much more than this.

McCutcheon's imaginary conversation between a rural white grandfather and boy is respectful towards our indigenous predecessors, but inaccurate in at least one way: "They all went away and died, so they ain't no more left," the man tells the boy of the Indians. Yet the native people did not just "die out." There are many native folks living in communities throughout the U.S.A. Native Americans -- in this area they were mostly called "Potawatomi" -- were in fact forcibly removed from these woods in the 1820s, with the weight of federal government policy and the support of the U.S. Army. After Chief Black Hawk's final and unsuccessful assertion of Indian rights east of the Mississippi in the 1830s, Potawatomi people from the Chicago area settled in communities in northern Wisconsin and west of the Mississippi. A "Prairie Potawatomi" group in Kansas still exists, and traces its roots to this area. Though indigenous Indian communities are long gone from this area, Chicago has attracted a large population of native people from all over the U.S. to live and work in the modern city, many of them remembering old ways as best they can. The American Indian Center on Wilson Avenue, founded in 1953, is an active community and education center for native people currently living in Chicago.

I have seen on maps of the forest preserve near me that an Indian village lay on what is now the northeast corner of Touhy Avenue and the Des Plaines River. I've walked about that area, wondering exactly where that village might have been located (admittedly, I do not know if the Des Plaines River is exactly where it was 180 years ago.) A bluff on the north side of Touhy Avenue overlooks the river, and I wonder if that was the site of the village -- near the water, yet not bogged down in a flood plain below the bluff that today borders the river. If a village existed here it was certainly because of its strategic worth as a portage location. Travelers could walk and haul cargo between here and the North Branch of the Chicago River using the footpath that preceded today's busy motorized thoroughfare.

I recall a charming, miniature Potawatomi Village scene on display in the Early Americas section at the Field Museum. In the display, figurines of Potawatomi people go about their daily business within a village of bark-covered wigwams. This aids my imagination, but with planes flowing overheard nearly constantly, cars and bikes speeding by on land, and -- maybe worst of all -- a great deal of litter in the forest preserve, my imagination is challenged. It is hard to know, difficult to feel, what life was like for these peoples.

However, in listening to a few native elders through the years, I've learned one thing with certainty: that these people lived intimately with their environment and with the seasonal changes that transformed it regularly. The Lakota holy man, Black Elk, said to John Neihardt, "Everything the power of the world does is in a circle. The sky is round and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball. . . . The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were."

Those people are gone now, and it seems that we modern folks seldom consider that we, too, shall be gone one day. Native people generally placed the survival of tribal identity and custom far above that of individual survival. A dying member of a strongly knit community left the earth knowing at the very least that tribe and -- barring catastrophe of nature -- natural environment will continue. People and wildlife will regenerate. This fine Des Plaines River will continue to flow southwards.

Do we have such stability in our psyches these days? As we move through the seasons of our lives, do we feel secure that a happy earthly future will continue with or without us? Do the large steel and concrete buildings edging the forest preserve and the roadways that knife through our lives provide personal comfort? Our modern constructions are surely useful, but more comforting to me is the thought that this forest preserve will weather the coming winter, bloom in the coming spring and once again dazzle with color next fall.

By Jeff Wagner, for ChicagoWildlifeNews

Jeffrey Wagner, a graduate of Northwestern University and Indiana University, is a Chicago-area musician and writer who has published numerous articles in Clavier Magazine, and other journals. Since boyhood, he has loved the outdoors, and has hiked, camped and back-packed all over the United States.

Contact: [email protected] or [email protected]

Willowbrook's wildlife have stories to tell

2009-10-18T21:27:00.000-07:00

(POSTED: 10/19/09) It was a Sunday morning at the Willowbrook Wildlife Center, and wildlife specialist Sandy Woltman had already seen a muskrat with a hip injury, two Cooper's hawks and 23 hurt birds. A red-tailed hawk and a painted turtle were listed on the board, waiting to get checked in next. Meanwhile, the phones were busy with callers -- one asking about a "bloodcurdling scream heard in the night" (believed to have been a screech owl) and another concerned about a skunk they found walking strangely.

"It's like an emergency room atmosphere," Woltman said, describing the animal rehabilitation and education center in Glen Ellyn. "You never know what's coming in next."

Willowbrook, located at 525 S. Park Blvd., doubles as a safe haven for critters native to DuPage County and an explorer's retreat for those curious about the wildlife in their own backyard. The center provides treatment for animals with behavioral or physical disabilities -- nearly 8,000 total in 2008 -- with the goal of releasing the creatures back into the wild. Also featuring a nature trail, butterfly garden and animal exhibits, Willowbrook welcomes people to visit and learn more about the ecosystem.

This fall the DuPage County Forest Preserve will launch the initial phase of a plan to upgrade the facility -- its first expansion in 28 years. After collecting the public's opinion through a survey, both district and Willowbrook staff will meet mid-month with an architect to weigh the visitors' suggestions along with the needs of the workers and the animals. Although the options are open, one thing is for sure -- no one will be building over the characteristic charm of the intimate facility.

"We don't want to be bigger, bigger, bigger," said Sandy Fejt, education site manager. "We want to keep the quiet, low-key environment. That's what we think people tend to enjoy more. You don't have the big crowds and commercialism here like you see in other places."

Volunteers also play an important role in personalizing the experience for people. While Mike Shimer, 58, was teaching a few visitors about snakes, the milk snake he was handling wound itself around his waist -- through all of his belt loops -- and into his right pocket. In the pet corner, 17-year-old Adam Guenther, who wants to be a veterinarian at a wildlife or exotic zoo, held Mocha the dove for a 9-year-old girl, who also wants to be a vet someday. It's this kind of interaction, Shimer says, that brings back a lot of regulars.

During a recent trip to Willowbrook, ChicagoWildlifeNews spent some time with Woltman to learn more about the animals permanently housed in the outdoor exhibit. Woltman, who oversees animal care and has been working at the center since 1991, said that these animals are kept because they would not survive if sent back into the wild. Since there are about 100 creatures on permanent display, these are just a few stories of some of the animals that have been rescued and rehabilitated, and that now call Willowbrook home.

Red Foxes

You might catch one of the female red foxes slowly walking around in circles, as if trying to follow her own tail. She's not depressed, nor is she forming a bed to lie down. This fox suffers from a neurological disorder, which affects her motor skills.

"She's a little off," Woltman said. "It affects the brain, so she has a head tilt and sometimes she'll tumble a bit. . . . Typically, it's a long-term problem. She showed so much improvement and then just plateaued."

The fox, who is also deaf, was transferred from a Michigan facility in August 2008 and was originally found in a farm field.

The second female fox lives with only three legs, and even though she has adapted well, she likely would not be able to survive on her own. The fox was found on a back porch of a Lombard home in 2003 and chased into the Lombard Common park before the police caught her. After they took her to Willowbrook, she was diagnosed with a broken leg and a mange. Woltman says they had to amputate the fox's leg because it was so severely broken. "It came down to either euthanize her or amputate the leg," she said. "She lost that leg when she was young, but she did great adapting."

Raccoons

In March of 1994, some Bolingbrook residents found two raccoons in their attic and began raising them as pets. But after a couple of months, the people didn't want the animals anymore because of their destructive behavior. The raccoons were brought to Willowbrook that June, and animal care discovered that they were too tame to ever be released.

"We tried to reverse it, but they were just too tame," Woltman said.

Willowbrook workers applied negative reinforcement, which included spraying the raccoons with a hose or zapping them with a cattle prod, to get them afraid of people again. (Although it sounds cruel, Woltman said this method was necessary, given the situation, and it has proven to work in the past.) They also tried removing all human contact and banging on their cages to scare them, but the raccoons were unfazed.

Bald Eagle

Willowbrook's bald eagle broke its wing after it was shot in Baltimore in 1995, and although the wing healed, the bird hasn't been able to fly well.

"He has poor circulation in his flight feathers," Woltman said. "They grow in and then they all fall out. Basically it's follicle damage."

The bird is the first permanent bald eagle on display, although not the first to come through the center's doors.

Bobcat

The bobcat was hit by a car in southern Illinois in December of 2005, and its eyesight has been permanently damaged as a result of the head trauma.

The male cat came to Willowbrook two years after the accident, and he is the first bobcat that Woltman has seen at the facility. Though rare, Woltman says that there are some bobcats in the southern part of DuPage County.

Barn Owls

The male barn owl was raised in captivity in Kansas and came to Willowbrook in 1994 too habituated to ever be set free. The female was hit by a car and brought to the wildlife center in 2005, transferring from Oregon.

Since barn owls are common on the West Coast, Woltman says the sick or injured birds are often euthanized. "A lot of them are put to sleep because you just can't find homes for them," she said.

As in the case of the owls, the animals at Willowbrook can come from anywhere in the country, depending on the needs of the facility.

"We're looking for an ambassador for the species to be on display to educate the people about the species," Woltman said.

By Katie Drews, for ChicagoWildlifeNews
Contact: [email protected]

Photos courtesy of Willowbrook

Wild Musings -- Hawks, chickens and city living

2009-10-09T12:17:00.000-07:00

(POSTED: 10/12/09) I couldn't identify the fury of feathers that descended to try and eat my chickens the other day, but suffice it to say it was bigger than the kestrel we see overhead several times a week. The hawk, perhaps a red-tailed, or a rough-legged, which pass through in the spring and fall, started in the oak tree at the end of the block where I saw it land when I let the chickens out. Thinking I shouldn't leave them alone, I had only stepped out of view when the hawk attacked. Fortunately nobody was caught, yet it was quite shocking to think how easily our new chicks could become lunch.

The threat to my chickens from local wildlife is more varied than one might imagine. There is the variety of hawk species that frequent our garden. We have an opossum that passes by with regularity, conveniently playing possum which confuses our dog. There is a raccoon that lives two doors down in the roof of a now-empty house (calls for removal have got us nowhere; private property is private property, I guess, until more than the roof falls in.) In Logan Square we have seen coyotes and in LaBagh Woods, just blocks to the north, we see owls, foxes and deer. Lucky for us, the local rabbits have avoided our garden thus far.

Living in the city, one can be surprised by the amount and diversity of wildlife. We have planted our garden with native flowers and shrubs and, as a result, in addition to our birds (9-week-old Delaware pullets) we get annual visits from an incredible breadth of migrants plus a summer-long show from goldfinches and the host of fledgling sparrows, finches, cardinals and robins who learn to fly and avoid cats in our garden. In or along the Chicago River there are beaver, muskrats, mink, groundhogs, skunks and several species of turtles including enormous snapping turtles visible on the banks near Diversey and anywhere in the woods. There are 70 species of fish, 60 species of birds and, recently, evidence of otters spotted by Cook County Forest Preserve officials downtown.

To me that river-edge trees are felled by beavers on Bryn Mawr, that coyotes eat goose eggs in Garfield Park or that big giant unidentified hawks can be hunting my chickens in the midst of a city neighborhood surrounded by dollar stores, taquerias and the Fullerton bus is a complete thrill. I wish them all well, except maybe that hawk, and look forward to sharing the adventure with you.

By Margaret Frisbie
Contact: [email protected]

Margaret Frisbie is the executive director of Friends of the Chicago River, a nonprofit organization that works to improve and protect the Chicago River for the people, plants and animals who share our watershed. A lifelong wildlife enthusiast who grew up hiking our forest preserves and canoeing our streams, Frisbie lives on Chicago's Northwest Side where, despite its urban environment, wildlife is never too far from her door.

Walking with wildlife -- Chicago's "go-to-guy" on nature

2009-10-04T21:04:00.001-07:00

(POSTED: 10/5/09) At first blush, Chris Anchor's job sounds a little like that of a police detective.

The late nights, the stakeouts, 60-plus-hour work weeks, even the occasional threatening character.

But Anchor isn't a cop, he's the chief wildlife biologist for the Cook County Forest Preserve District -- one of the top experts on wildlife in the Chicago area.

At age 46, he's held the post for 22 years, and shows no signs of letting up on tramping through woods and wetlands.

He said he still loves his job -- in part because of the diversity of his workdays.

"One day I could be doing a stream survey for fish, the next day I could be working with deer, and the next day I could be working with coyotes," Anchor said in a recent interview with ChicagoWildlifeNews. "Follow that with bats or bluebirds, and it's always a wonderful mix with something new popping up."

"Most of what I do in general deals with the wildlife that inhabits this part of the state -- monitoring their population levels and densities, and tracking the diseases they carry. That's the vast majority of my job."

For instance, Anchor is involved in a 10-year-old study that tags and tracks urban coyotes to better understand their behavior. (The above photo shows coyote pups, with tracking collars, in a den; below is an older coyote.)

"The thing that I've learned over the years is that urban wildlife behaves completely differently from their rural counterparts," Anchor said. "They have much different strategies for survival than their rural counterparts. There is very little written about it. It's all new."

(Readers may recall a coyote finding its way into a Quiznos a couple of years back in downtown Chicago.)

Anchor started with the forest preserve district as a naturalist in 1981 while still in school at the University of Illinois. His job entailed helping with outdoor education programs for the general public.

In 1987, two years after graduating, he became chief wildlife biologist -- a job that "had never existed before," Anchor said. "They actually offered it to four other people who didn't want it, and then they gave it to me. My interests have always been varied, and I thought it was a great opportunity."

The position has evolved over the years.

"When I first started it was a lot of, 'What do we have and where do we have it?'" Anchor said. "Now it's much more disease oriented. It's much more: 'What diseases do we have and where do we have them?'"

This disease work (in photo to the right, a bird is checked for avian influenza; below, a blood draw is done on a little brown bat) helps keep an eye on wildlife ailments that can be transmitted to humans.

"We use animals as bio monitors," said Anchor. "We collect blood and tissue samples from them. We work closely with public health departments to provide them with information about the prevalence or presence of diseases, particularly new diseases that have come onto the landscape that are communicable to humans."

Speaking of humans, they are what can make his job, well, let's say challenging.

Animal rights activists are not always enamored with the way wildlife professionals operate, and Anchor has fielded the occasional death threat, he acknowledged.

Anchor doesn't want to get too specific about what has rankled different people, but said, "Anytime you handle an animal in an urban setting, you've got a very small group of people that think you're a saint, and another very small group of people that think you're Satan reincarnate."

That was evident when a wild cougar slinked its way into Chicago, and ended up being shot and killed by a Chicago cop. Some animal rights activists were enraged, and Mayor Daley received a threatening note after defending the shooting -- and an arson fire near his Michigan vacation home was believed to be connected as well to the incident.

Anchor has come to be known as a real expert on the natural world in Chicago and its environs, and he's often sought out by reporters looking for a knowledgeable source on wildlife (even a painted turtle, shown below.)

"Chris is knowledgeable about pretty much anything that's out there," said Chris Merenowicz, assistant director of the forest preserve district's resource management department. "Whether it's a plant or a deer, he knows where they're at, what they're supposed to be doing, and what they're not supposed to be doing. He's the 'go to guy.'"

And Anchor is just plain resilient, Merenowicz said, recalling a project they worked on together.

"One of the big projects that we did together was the Skokie Lagoons fisheries rehabilitation back in the early '90s," Merenowicz said.

"We worked on this thing for three weeks straight without any days off. . . . We could go three or four days in a row without sleep. . . . That's the kind of thing that makes him one of the top guys on the scene because of that work ethic and that tenacity to get things done."

By Lindsey Malkus, for ChicagoWildlifeNews
Contact: [email protected]

Photos courtesy of Cook County Forest Preserve District

More possible cougar sightings in suburbs

2009-09-14T12:04:00.000-07:00

(UPDATED: 9/17/09) More big cat sightings have been reported in Chicago's far western suburbs.

In Wheaton, there's now been a second report of large dark cat, possibly a cougar, on the loose, according to police.

And in the Naperville area, someone reported seeing a large wild cat.

So there have been at least three reported sightings in recent weeks. In the first one, a dog-walker told police that she spotted a large, dark "mountain cat" earlier this month in a Wheaton park.

The young woman was running with her dog at Northside Park in the far western suburb when she saw the big cat in the brush, said Wheaton Deputy Police Chief Tom Meloni.

The dog approached the cat, which then "hissed" and took off, Meloni said. The dog, at roughly 60 pounds, was smaller than the cat, the woman relayed to police.

The park borders a marsh area and is near the Illinois Prairie Path, so there's natural terrain for miles.

The woman apparently is from the western part of the country, and is familiar with cougars (that's a file photo above), so initially didn't think anything of it, Meloni said. But after relaying the story to friends, they urged her to tell police, which she did on Sept. 11, a week after the sighting, he said.

Police put out an alert so the public knew of the situation, Meloni said.

Experts examined paw prints found at one of the sites but don't believe they're from a cougar, also known as a puma or mountain lion.

Cougar sightings are rare in the Midwest, but are getting more common. There was one recently in Wisconsin, and several years back there was one in Lynwood. Of course, a cougar shot and killed by Chicago police made big news last year.

Below are copies of the news releases put out by Wheaton police:

Possible Cougar Sighting Update

WHEATON, Ill. ¬ Wheaton Police Department Evidence Technicians successfully lifted paw print impressions from the creek bed where the cat was seen on Sept. 15.

These castings were taken to Brookfield Zoo, where several experts familiar with different species of mammals examined the impression castings and photographs of the paw prints.

Results of the examination were inconclusive. The mammal curator ruled out the print being from canines (dog, coyote) or a fox. The print was consistent with a large cat, possibly a medium-sized cougar or other exotic cat.

The Police Department will continue its research and will continue to patrol the area. Residents are reminded to supervise children and pets, and leave no pet food outside.

The DuPage County Forest Preserve Police Department has been notified and is also patrolling the Forest Preserves, including Lincoln Marsh.

Should anyone observe a large cat, cougar or other exotic cat, they should avoid the animal and call 9-1-1.
####

Second Possible Cougar Sighting

WHEATON, Ill.--On Sept 15, 2009, the Wheaton Police Department received a second report of a possible cougar sighting that occurred during the daytime in the area of Cole and Bridle near a creek.

The cat was described as large and black in color. Officers checked the area and recovered a possible paw print and will have the photo of the print examined by a wildlife expert.

Officers will continue to patrol the area.

Should anyone observe a cougar, mountain lion or unusual animal, please phone us at 9-1-1 immediately. Officers will respond to investigate.
###

WHEATON, Ill. -- On Sept. 11, 2009, the Wheaton Police Department received a delayed report of a possible cougar sighting that occurred at about dusk on the evening of Friday, Sept. 4, 2009. A young woman who was running with her dog in Northside Park near the bridge area observed a large black cat that was larger than her dog of 60 pounds. As her dog approached the cat, the cat stood and ran off into the wooded area.

The department has received no additional reports of this or any other cougar sighting.

Should anyone observe a cougar, mountain lion or unusual animal, please call us at 9-1-1 immediately. Officers will respond to investigate. ###

Des Plaines River Journal: My good fortune

2009-09-07T19:06:00.000-07:00

(POSTED: 9/10/09) It is my good fortune to live very near the Des Plaines River in Park Ridge. From my living room in the northwest suburb, I may view through the seasons a wooded area of the Cook County Forest Preserve verging on the river. In early morning and evening twilight, deer (I've counted as many as 14 at a time) graze gently in a field near my condominium building. Deeper into the woods, I've also seen coyote, a fox, beaver signs, chipmunks, squirrels, as well as ducks and Canada geese that sometimes land on the river, swooping in -- like the planes at nearby O’Hare Field -- for graceful landings.

From ancient times until the industrial age, this river served as an important means of transportation, strategically merging its waters with those of the Kankakee River near Joliet. There, the two rivers become the Illinois River that flows into the Mississippi. Thus, a voyageur of olden times could journey without portage from the source of the Des Plaines, near Kenosha, to the Gulf of Mexico.

Just as importantly, those travelers willing to make a portage from the Des Plaines to the northern or southern branches of the Chicago River could access Lake Michigan, and the northern worlds to which it could take them. Touhy Avenue, near where I live, was a popular portage trail, extending from the Des Plaines River (near where the Tri-State Tollway passes) to the North Branch of the Chicago River near Caldwell Avenue.

Today, however, the Des Plaines seems not used much for anything other than recreational transportation, mainly canoeing in the northern sections of the river, and fishing boats on its southern, larger stretches near Joliet. Pollution levels, sadly, run rather high in the river, and I have never gone swimming in it. For me, it is mainly the pleasures of walking, and sometimes jogging or cross-country skiing, near the river that draw me and others to the foot paths that wind along it banks. It is also the pleasure of occasionally chatting with fellow walkers, sometimes for only a short time, that draws me.

In the years that I've walked the trails near my home, I've met a variety of folks at all times of years. We seem a congenial lot, at least while on the trails, perhaps calmed or grounded by nearness to the natural world. In a large field surrounded by forest south of Devon Avenue, a Boy Scout camp used to stand, and I recently I struck up conversation with a man and his metal-detector. "I am looking," he explained, "for old coins, left by the scouts way back when." He showed me a few that he'd found, dating from the early 1900s, so we guessed that "way back when" was likely the 1930s and '40s.

Earlier this summer, as I enjoyed lunch at a picnic table near my home, I observed two women picking leaves from large, verdant bushes on the edge of the preserve. Eventually I wandered over to them, asking what it was they were picking. They showed me bunches of green leaves they were transferring to plastic shopping bags, but, since English was apparently not their first language, they could not tell me what sort of leaf it was. Later in the day, after they had gone, I returned to the spot, picked from the plants and felt like I had been stung by a bee. "Ah, stinging nettles," I surmised, and recalled that I had seen, but not noted sufficiently, the gloves the women had worn as they went about their work. After some ice on the hand, a bit of Googling revealed that my identification was correct, and that stinging nettles, when handled and properly prepared, may be used for healthful teas, and work specifically as an astringent or anti-inflammatory treatment.

Another poignant encounter I recall was with a lady walking beside a miniature dog on a leash. The little dog curiously trotted in a small circle at the end of its leash. Endlessly. The dog, seemingly locked into a small orbit, looked only at the ground as it traced its inevitable route. "I obtained him," the lady said, "from a dog rescue shelter, where they explained to me that this dog had been abused. He was locked into a little box for over a year, and all it knows to do is walk in the small circle that a capture box would permit. I'm hoping that bringing him out into the woods, into these open spaces, will help him to recover."

I was stunned by the story, and impressed both by the cruelty of the previous owner and the devotion of the current owner.

I could only hope that walks in the woods would bring to that dog the healing and straightening that many of us find here.

By Jeff Wagner

Jeffrey Wagner, a graduate of Northwestern University and Indiana University, is a Chicago-area musician and writer who has published numerous articles in Clavier Magazine, and other journals. Since boyhood, he has loved the outdoors, and has hiked, camped and back-packed all over the United States.

Contact: [email protected] or [email protected]

Never mind the cars -- a hawk and the Kennedy Expy.

2009-09-07T19:05:00.000-07:00

(POSTED: 9/3/09) It's understandable that some hawks like to spend their time near highways. After all, there often are trees or street lights providing good vantages to hunt along grassy shoulder areas.

Driving down I-80 to Utica every few months, I see at least two or three hawks roadside.

But the Kennedy Expy. qualifies as a good hunting ground?

Those who traverse this traffic-gnarled roadway know how busy it is, how modest are the parkways. And yet, there's a red-tailed hawk that spends a good amount of time perched on those towering lamps lining the pavement, between Addison and Foster.

So it's a North Side bird.

I've seen it (I'm presuming it's the same beast) for at least two years. Not every day, or even every month. But it always seems to return, most recently in August in the photo featured here. (Not the best picture I'll admit; I pulled over to snap it, but the wise bird kept moving further south when I approached from the ground with camera in hand.)

I wonder what the hawk eats, and whether plump city rats might be part of the diet.

Whatever the case, it's a welcome bit of wild in a city that's too often wild in the wrong ways.

By Robert Herguth, ChicagoWildlifeNews
Contact: [email protected]

Welcome to Chicago Wildlife News

2009-09-07T19:02:00.000-07:00

Welcome to ChicagoWildlifeNews, a just-launched free online publication providing news and commentary about nature and the environment -- with a special emphasis on the wild creatures of the Chicago region.

With eight million people in the metro area, and seemingly endless sprawl, there obviously isn't as much nature as there once was -- but there's also more than many people think.

Hawks and falcons now are not uncommon sights in certain parts of the city; coyotes make themselves known -- even in the Loop -- from time to time; and birds and fish with no real business in Chicago manage to turn up occasionally (through natural means, and irresponsible people.)

This site (www.chicagowildlifenews.com) is not agenda-driven, and it's not affiliated with any organization. It's an independent news site that operates as a subsidiary of Niche Chicago News Corp.

The purpose of ChicagoWildlifeNews is to educate, inform and entertain readers, and perhaps instill in them an appreciation for the natural world that exists amid the asphalt, skyscrapers and bustle of our city and suburbs.

We’d like to hear from you -- your thoughts on the site (which is a work in progress) and on the issues churning out there.

For general inquiries, please email [email protected]
To send a letter to the editor for possible publication on the web site, please email [email protected] and clearly mark the correspondence "Letter to the Editor."

To provide a confidential news tip or send along a press release, please use [email protected]

To reach a live person on the telephone, you may try (773) 706-3207.

We appreciate your readership as we move forward. We will strive to provide a quality product for you.

—Robert Herguth, editor-in-chief
September 2009

Corrections

2009-09-07T11:34:00.000-07:00

We strive for accuracy, but if you believe something is incorrect on the site, please alert us as soon as possible and, if needed, we will make a correction or clarification. The best way to notify us is by emailing [email protected] or calling (773) 706-3207.

Letters to the editor

2009-09-07T11:32:00.000-07:00

Those wanting a letter or comment posted on ChicagoWildlifeNews should email [email protected] and clearly mark the correspondence "Letter to the Editor."

The editor reserves the right to decide which letters are posted, and to edit them for space. Letters that are civil are most likely to be published. Please include your full name and a daytime phone number with your letter, but only first names will be put on the site accompanying the comments. Please try to condense your thoughts into 200 to 300 words.

Disclaimer

2009-09-06T21:32:00.000-07:00

Personal information about readers obtained by ChicagoWildlifeNews — including names and email addresses — will not be sold or otherwise disseminated to outside groups such as advertisers.

Content on this web site does not necessarily reflect the views of Niche Chicago News Corp., ChicagoWildlifeNews or their officers.