Bad feather day

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There were rumors of a Golden Eagle on Long Lake. Our suspicion is that it’s really this immature Bald Eagle, photographed here at the top of  a dead red pine on the northern end of the lake.

Adult Bald Eagles wouldn’t be mistaken for Goldens. Adults aren’t bald, of course, but their white heads might look a bit like that at a distance. And they have distinctive white tails with dark brown bodies and wings. Immature birds, like this one, are mostly dark, with bodies and wings that are mottled with white.

It takes a Bald Eagle about five years to reach its mature plumage. This one looks a tad depressed that the process is taking so long.

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Definitely no beauty yet. Maybe the juveniles being so pokey about getting impressive plumage is what made Benjamin Franklin want the wild turkey as our national symbol.

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“…the voice of the turtle is heard in our land”

Ernie Harwell, the Detroit Tigers Baseball Hall of Fame announcer, began the first spring training broadcast of each season with a reading from the Song of Solomon, King James Version. “For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.” I have no idea why he did that.

I also have no idea about that voice of the turtle part. I’ve read that language scholars say that Old English “turtla” was a derivative of the Latin “turtur” and that the word that the King James translators read as turtle was really turtledove. So, maybe we have a mistake on that voice of the turtle part. Voice of the dove would make more sense. Some turtles hiss though.

Anyway, we’ve seen lots of turtles this year on Long Lake.

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This Painted Turtle was sunning himself in the narrows. It is a very cold-tolerant turtle. It’s been reportedly seen swimming under the ice of lakes in late winter. It emerges early in April, sometimes before full ice-out. Still, basking in the sun is a favorite thing for these turtles. In 1995, the Painted Turtle was named Michigan’s state reptile. Since the critter has been honored with that title, I figure I’d feature it first. A sure-fire way of identifying a Painted Turtle is by the red markings on its plastron. The plastron is a turtle’s lower shell.

Painted turtles can live 15 to 25 years.The females mature in 6 to 10 years. Painted Turtles are Michigan’s most common turtle.

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This ancient Snapping Turtle, complete with marine growth on his back, is the big guy that’s regularly spotted in Ghost Bay. If I am dangling my feet off the front of the pontoon boat and this guy surfaces, my toes will be out of there faster than two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Snapping Turtles are Michigan’s largest turtles.

Big head, long tail, and a thick neck so long that it extends half the length of its shell. So, watch out if you decide to help it cross a road because its beak has a very long reach. That upper shell, its carapace, is divided into scutes, like other shells in the hard-shelled turtle family. And along the edges of its carapace, the scutes have sort of a ruffled look. A Snapping Turtle usually feeds only underwater because it uses the water pressure to help swallow stuff.

Here’s another snapper, much smaller, but still a a substantial turtle.

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In the water, these guys can move remarkably fast–at least in bursts.

Snapping turtles, like turtles everywhere, lay their eggs in sandy soil. They will sometimes travel a long way looking for the right spot to lay eggs. The eggs are buried. Then the mother turtle gets herself back to the water. Any hatchlings have to try to make it to water on their own.

Here’s something quite rare to see on the lake. It’s the first time we’ve seen this guy. Gal, I guess. Two nights in a row she hauled herself out of the lake and walked across our lawn. The first night, when Steve photographed her and then Wesley (our neighbor’s grandson) approached her to about ten feet, she turned around and returned to the water. This is a Blanding’s Turtle. In some states it’s an endangered species. Here in Michigan, it is considered threatened.

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This was a very large Blanding’s Turtle. It’s shell was about 10 inches. These turtles can live for 50 years. Given her size, this one could be that old. The female will travel up to a mile to lay her eggs. And their nests are most successful in their fourth and fifth decades.

The evening after this photo was taken, she emerged again, from the same spot near our dock. She travelled hundreds of feet and headed into a wooded area behind our neighbor’s house. We figure she knew where she wanted to lay her eggs. Steve watched as long as she was visible, wanting to make sure that none of the dogs that might be about would mess with her. We didn’t see her return to the water.

Two features that help identify a Blanding’s Turtle are its high domed carapace and that big goofy grin on its face. blandings_wesley_lowres

Mallard brood

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This is a mother mallard and her brood in Ghost Bay. Anas platyrhynchos. Out of the water, the hen’s speculum is very clear. It’s that band of metallic blue wing color, edged with a bit of white. Well, the blue is clear anyway.

The mallard hen builds a nest near tallish wetland plants or under a shrub. Actually, mallards are quite adaptable and in cities they may even nest in a flower planter. The hen scrapes around a bit, lays her eggs, and then puts grass, reeds, and leaves around her to make a rim for the nest. It will be lined with soft down feathers. The clutch of between 9 to 13 eggs will take around 30 days to incubate.

The male mallard’s role in all this is pretty minimal. Only the hen sits on the nest. Only the hen looks after the ducklings. The male drake heads off to join a flock and sort of just hangs out and molts. Before the fall migration, his bright courting feathers will be replaced with dull brown feathers–his eclipse plumage.

The ducklings are out of the nest and into the water within one day of hatching. They won’t be able to fly for about two months and they will stick close to their mother until then. In the early days they are so small that big fish or snapping turtles will find them a tasty morsel. On our lake they might also be lunch for a Bald Eagle.

By mid-July, the ducklings have grown so much that it’s not easy to distinguish them from their mother. I think that’s mom bringing up the rear. By about 10 weeks, the young ones will leave the family group to join a flock.

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Beaverpalooza in Ghost Bay

beavertail_lowresThe big lodge in Ghost Bay is home to a bunch of hyperactive beavers. Really. There have been mornings this summer when they just won’t leave us alone. Or so it seems. They must have not gotten the message that they are supposed to be crepuscular critters–active at dawn and dusk. Because we’ve not been there quite so early, or late, but sometimes as many as three beavers have been circling Ghost Bay at the same time.

They don’t seem to be eating anything. No new birch trees have bit the dust. On only one occasion did we see the beavers obviously interacting. Two swam toward each other, seemed to touch noses, and then dove away.

But my my, what a bunch of alarm slaps we’ve been treated to. If you look closely you can make out the beaver’s nose, his right ear, and his tail.

beaversplash_lowresWhen critters signal that our presence is alarming, we keep our distance. But these guys can be on the other side of Ghost Bay from our kayaks, when we aren’t even near the lodge or near them, and they will send out the alarm. We are not alarming folks. Ghost Bay is where we quietly paddle in, drink our morning coffee, and drink in the natural drama that unfolds.

Tons of fish swim by. A few bluegills will be on their nests. We see pike–but only rarely. Lots of large and small-mouth bass. More perch than in the past. Rockbass. There are some small fry that I’ve taken to calling happy fish because they flip on the surface. We think they are munching water skimmers. As for the skimmers, sometimes it’s like we are herding them. As we move in the bay they seem to group in front of our kayaks. Dragonflies are abundant this year too.

This weekend while three beavers were swimming around and delivering a series of tail-slap alarm calls, we also watched a blue heron hunting. And there was a good-sized doe who continued to drink at the water’s edge even though she noticed us and eyed us warily. I guess when a body’s thirsty, a body needs to drink.

So, beaver, we are not worth your alarm.

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We are going to continue to quietly float around. And if it turns out that we also get to witness your antics–all the better!

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Close encounter

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This pair of loons doesn’t seem to be nesting. They were in Ghost Bay with us for a good long while last weekend. They showed a lot of interest in the kayaks and approached us, rather than the other way around.These are two individuals.

loonlooking_lowresUp very close and personal.

Steve has a special lens that captures a lot of detail even at a distance. But this pair was within 15 feet of the kayaks much of the time. This view shows off one of the loon’s characteristics that make them so good at catching fish: their binocular vision.

We watched this pair fishing in Ghost Bay. We watched them swim by in shallow water several times. Talk about streamlined! And they are amazingly fast and powerful swimmers.

Sue had one of them dive near her and swim under her paddleboard!

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