Kid Stuff
Nurturing Nature
By: Carol Suits
Liberty Wildlife Volunteer
Summer is almost over
Can’t think of fun things to do?
Kid Stuff has lots of ideas
We’ve picked a few for you!
BUILD – A – BIRD!
You can have fun building all the inside and outside parts of a bird.
It’s also a little weird.
Why? Check out the eye!
Click here to build your bird!
What do animals do to stay cool in the summer? Can you guess how these ospreys keep their chicks cool?
https://www.allaboutbirds.org/cams/how-the-hellgate-ospreys-stay-cool-in-summer-heat/#
Live cams are cameras that allow people to watch what’s going on and they’re fun to watch. The first link is to a busy feeder station and the second connects to live animal cameras throughout San Diego Zoo.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x10vL6_47Dw
https://zoo.sandiegozoo.org/live-cameras
Puzzles!
Animals need water to live. They also use it to keep cool in summer.
This fountain helps wildlife all year but especially when it’s hot.
The Cooper’s Hawk uses it during the day and the raccoon at night!
World Between Worlds
By Greg Martin
Liberty Wildlife Contributor
The descent from day into night, and the reemergence of the sun over the horizon, marks the passing of time wherever you are. In the Desert Southwest, it announces the wholesale transformation of one world into another. The desert by day and the desert by night might cover the same topography, but each is its own universe, with its own denizens, dangers, and opportunities. Brutal summers mean that most animals think twice before braving life beneath the merciless sun; gentle winters, by contrast, bring vibrant landscapes that flush with color as colder parts of the country fade into bleary gray. Sunset signals bedtime for diurnal birds of prey, while owls of all sizes rise to meet the night; they lord over the same terrain like mirror images of each other. An entire subset of Arizona’s Sonoran Desert wildlife patiently beds down to await the darkness, while others seize the chance to get what they need before more dangerous things – snakes and scorpions and coyotes – come out to hunt.
On the fringe lies a twilight realm filled with creatures all its own. Dusk and dawn unite a happy medium between visibility and temperature that allows myriad animals to flourish, if only for a few hours. Among them is a group of avian oddities haunting this transitory period: nightjars.
There may be no more confusingly named assortment of birds in the world. The Common Nighthawk, for instance, isn’t a hawk, and it distinctly lives a crepuscular, not truly nocturnal, existence. And it hunts more like a whale than a raptor. Following its nightjar kin, the Common Nighthawk loops through the air to feast on bugs, scooping them in with its over-large mouth. They’re both simple to spot and easy to misidentify because while they present a frequent sight in Arizona, they’re known to intermingle with bats. It takes some close observation during the feeding frenzy to realize that one is a bird and the other a mammal, though they’re both out and about for the same purpose. Common Nighthawks go by the nickname “bullbats” for that very reason.[1]
Though not terribly impressive to look at, nightjars possess outsized personalities. Besides their aerial acrobatics, Common Nighthawks are more than willing to fling themselves at territorial intruders, including humans. They funnel wind through their feathers while diving to produce a surprisingly unnerving boom sound.[2]They also have no qualms about feigning injuries to lure predators from nesting sites. It takes nerves of steel to flop around on the ground, hoping to pull away something that’s guaranteed to kill you if it closes the distance before you recover. It’s not the kind of bravado that one would expect from a big-mouthed bug hunter. The reality, though, is that most birds are strictly diurnal, and have no choice but to retreat as daylight fades away. But it should come as no surprise that confidence is one of their strong suits. Spending their lives waiting for the right hour to emerge means a lot of time isolated in comparative vulnerability. Nightjars have no weapons to defend themselves; yet by living a crepuscular lifestyle, they thrive during that rare crossover period between light and darkness that sees predators of all stripes coming and going. It’s a lucrative schedule, but not one for the timid.
Ultimately, nightjars go where the insects do: by winnowing away the hordes, they play a crucial role in organic pest control. It’s important to remember that every animal serves its purpose in the larger natural machine. Even the peculiar ones.
Especially the peculiar ones.
[1]https://www.britannica.com/animal/nighthawk-bird
[2]https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Common_Nighthawk/overview
Dancing Cranes are Winter VIsitors
By Gail Cochrane
Liberty Wildlife Volunteer
Sandhill cranes are a reassuring target for novice bird watchers; being large and loud and congregating in great numbers. In fact, tens of thousands of sandhill cranes flock to
wetland resting areas in Southeast Arizona during their long migratory journey. Drive to Whitewater Draw in January or February, head on out to the viewing platforms in the afternoon and you will see cranes.
They first appear as dark specks against the blue sky. Approaching in long ragged lines the gangly cranes begin to take shape, and then you hear the trilling cries. As they prepare to land near the marshes, the cranes transform from the classic wingspread profile to a more vertical expression of the bird, featuring a long neck and dangling feet. The landings themselves are graceful and assured.
In this wetland setting we are able to move beyond the mere identification stage of bird watching to the more interesting observation of the activities of the animals. The sandhill crane exemplifies animated grace. He stabs energetically at a great variety of food items, from grains found in fallow fields to insects, reptiles and plants. During mating ceremonies and sometimes just in random bursts of energy, a sandhill crane performs a funky dance involving leaps, twirls and exaggerated dips and lifts of the head. Other cranes nearby watch this performance in a bored manner. The distinctive red cap of the sandhill is not scarlet feathering but an area of red wrinkly skin. The crane announces excitement or alarm by flashing this red patch which can stretch back from the forehead to cover the entire head of the bird.
Sandhill cranes are thought to mate for life and to travel in family groups. Indeed, you can observe this as they prepare to settle at Whitewater Draw, where birds break off from the incoming flock as pairs to seek a space among the others. These cranes generally live to be about 20 years old, choosing a mate when they are between the ages of two and seven. Their nest is a large mound of sticks that may float in the shallows or be anchored bankside.
The population of sandhill cranes is healthy for now. People report sightings, take photographs and videos and come out to observe and enjoy the spectacle of the migration Cranes can be sighted across a broad band of the southwest in the winter to the northern reaches of the Rocky Mountains, the Midwest, Canada, Alaska and even Siberia in the summer months. You can enjoy them from the comfort of your own home of course, by pulling up YouTube and marveling at the dance of the sandhill crane.