A shocking and magical moment in the woods today: June 26,
2012.
Linda, the Steward of Somme Woods, had enlisted me to help broadcast seeds
of wood rush (Luzula multiflora). We also bagged seeds of the invasive reed canary grass, to removed before they spread.
The show started when we paused in awe by a scene neither of us had
ever witnessed – a stand of more than thirty Michigan lilies blooming in this
open woods. While we admired the plant jewels, an animal gem swept in. The female
humming bird paused at each lily to slurp nectar and catch a bug or two before
shooting almost faster than the eye could follow to the next flower – to hover
below, then above, then try another angle, then move in to drink and eat.
The first hummer we'd seen in the gradually recovering Somme Woods. But then the whole scene went up for grabs as a male hummingbird joined the nectar party, then launched a spectacular courtship dance. He swooped like a feathered roller coaster. The U-shaped flight path took his tiny self repeatedly from the tree tops, down through the lilies, and back up to the tops again.
The first hummer we'd seen in the gradually recovering Somme Woods. But then the whole scene went up for grabs as a male hummingbird joined the nectar party, then launched a spectacular courtship dance. He swooped like a feathered roller coaster. The U-shaped flight path took his tiny self repeatedly from the tree tops, down through the lilies, and back up to the tops again.
Over and over he careened, back and forth, up and down, filling the entire
opening, making this bit of woods a work of art, a happening. He owned it.
During the swoop he’d turn his brilliant ruby throat into the sun for
iridescent explosions. And sing a metallic song both faster and octaves higher
than Charlie Parker.
Then the two hummingbirds vanished, perhaps for love, a
nest, two eggs and babies. And even in their absence, our two human hearts and
minds continued to swell.
Those lilies and hummingbirds were bursting with life here
for a reason – and because of us. Don’t look today in the average woods for
such birds and flowers. For millennia such life filled oak woods by the millions. But in recent decades, lilies have declined almost to nothing. Invasives have made the woods too
dark for them. Once nesting principally in open woods, hummingbirds are
almost unheard of in tallgrass woodlands these days. Hummingbirds are
co-evolved with some of our most impressive flowers – mostly red or orange ones –
lilies, fire pinks, columbine, wild coffee, cardinal flower, figwort. You don’t
see great stands of these in the woods any more – for the same reason the oaks
are not reproducing. Too dark. The malignancy of invasives – and lack of fire – and too many deer had indeed driven out most
species of flowers, and grasses, and butterflies, and birds, and so much more.
Thus, our emotions is being privileged to witness this breathtaking performance: we
felt gratitude from the forest. This drama meant success. Linda and many
volunteers have for decades cut the invasive trees and burned them in bonfires,
stamped out the herb invaders, gathered and broadcast the seeds of hundreds of
displaced plant species, many of which barely survive in today's "preserves." Here
we planted lilies, fire pinks, columbines and all.
With this performance, the woods thanked us for the controlled
burns, which helped the fire-adapted species to thrive, and thanked us for
fewer deer. Our advocacy supported the deer-control programs that are
increasing in the forest preserves. But for most sites, the lilies and hummingbirds are still gone.
Most of this region's scattered reports of humming birds during the breeding season are of vagrants, hanging around
for sugar water from red plastic dispensers on patios. Today's ruby-throats were fully natural (and much less subject to neighbors’
pesticides) in their ancestral place.
We thank the forest preserves, the hummingbirds, the
lilies, and you too, assuming, dear reader that you're a steward or supporter. What a pleasure and an honor, to share such victory!
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NOTES
Despite a zillion ruby-throated hummingbirds on YouTube, I
can’t find a video of the mating dance. Can you? We’re reduced to diagrams. Too
fast to follow without radar? Still, in this age, the hummingbird acrobatics is a drama where "you have to be there."
This blog subsequently posted later reports on hummers, for example in 2019.
3 comments:
Perhaps it would be possible to attract more ruby-throats by starting more active programs of propagation and planting of those species which attract rarities? I know that time, money, and space are limited, but couldn't we "move along" some restorations that were not taking place in remnants (which may already have a seed bank containing, for example, Michigan lily) by creating somewhat conservative communities and actively caring for them? Or does the artificiality of the community, without true tests of adaptation and survival, essentially spell out its eventual failure?
Where does one draw the line between "letting nature do its own thing" and human intervention?
@Daniel. Good questions. Many of us try to take into account the needs of rare butterflies (larval plants and nectar sources) when we restore. There's talk of restoring the larval foods of the hawk-moths that pollinate the prairie white fringed orchid, since lack of pollination is one of the threats to that species. We could certainly do the same for hummingbirds. Every initiative like this attracts some great new people to the cause, and puts back another component of the whole. Once all the "cogs and wheels" are back in the mix, the ecosystem has a better opportunity to "be all it naturally can be."
Stephen, I enjoyed reading your latest blog post, I always learn something new and interesting. I was referred to your blog by Daniel Kielson and with your permission I would like to add a link to Vestal Grove on our website. Please contact me at kdevogelaere@backyardnaturecenter.org
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