By Wilma Young

Welcome to Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge. Today you will

be walking the Woodland Trail. We can’t know in advance all the things you will encounter on the trail, but we can give you an idea of the possibilities and probabilities.

Before you begin your walk, just as your car turns off the Beach Road onto the Woodland Trail, there’s a landmark on your right. Just a few slabs of concrete in a tangle of greenbrier vines. This is all that’s left of an old life saving station- probably a portion of the cistern. In the previous century there were four of these stations on Assateague Island. Two of them were here on the Virginia’s end of the island.

Imagine now that it’s the eighteenth century. You would have been near the shore line, hearing the surf; instead of which, you are hearing the sounds of the pine forest, nearly a mile from the beach. Barrier islands grow and change rapidly. They are always in transition.

The Assateague Beach Life Saving Station was established in 1875. It wouldn’t have been manned in summer weather, but between August and June, a keeper and six or eight men were on duty twenty-four hours a day. These surf-men got room, board and twenty dollars a month in pay. You won’t, be surprised to learn that they trapped Muskrats to supplement their incomes. They not only endangered their lives rescuing crew men and saving the ships, they also did beach patrol, returning lost property they found, giving assistance to hunters and fishermen who had gotten lost on the island and providing them with food and lodging. In times of storm and high tides, they evacuated families who lived on the islands.

As you walk through the forest, you may encounter a Delmarva Peninsula Fox Squirrel. You will recognize him by his unusual size. He’s the largest of the tree squirrels, weighing up to three pounds and tail included, may be up to thirty inches long. His coat varies in color from light grey with silver chest and belly, to nearly black. Smaller species of squirrel seem to dash recklessly through the tree tops, traveling on tiny branches and launching themselves through the air, catching a nearby limb as if they were trapeze artists. The Delmarva’s are more cautious in the tree tops, running on larger limbs more suited to supporting their weight. They spend a great deal of time on the ground.  Now and then a grey squirrel may share habitat with the Delmarva’s. We try to discourage this by transporting them to more suitable areas as it is the Delmarva’s who are endangered.

Once, the Delmarva’s were common on the Delmarva Peninsula, ranging into New Jersey and Pennsylvania. They depended on the Loblolly Pine for shelter as well as for the supply of seeds from the cones of the pine. Clear cutting of the forest denied them the advantages of food, shelter and space and moved them into the endangered category.

 By the 1920′s, they were extinct in all states except Maryland. Between 1968 and 1971, thirty of these squirrels were moved here to Chincoteague Refuge where they were released near the lighthouse and here on the woodland trail. They seem to be prospering here as they have not only loblolly seeds to eat but also acorns, and buds and flowers of trees.

The Maritime Forest provides loblollies for the squirrels to make nests in and the occasional Hardwood Hollow Trees for dens. The refuge provides nesting boxes as well.

 Odd name: Loblolly. One researcher writes that the early settlers were impressed with the ever presence of this versatile pine and named it for the common and ever-present breakfast food of England- their porridge known as Loblolly. Lob is of the Middle English origin and meant literally “thick” and Lolly was a dialect word for broth. Loblolly also means “a mud puddle” which doesn’t say much for the porridge- but perhaps we can justify it for the loblolly tree because this pine does like to have its roots in a damp environment.

As the Loblolly grows taller, the lower branches fall which gives the forest a relatively clear understory with not too many places for predators to hide.

The Great Horned Owl may silently sweep down in the dusk and pick off a young squirrel. Owls have special soft downy feathers at wings’ edge which eliminate the flapping noise most birds produce in flight. These owls haven’t large ears- just tufts of feathers on either side of the top of the head. Small creatures must be especially vigilant because the owls have eyes positioned on the front of their heads giving them better binocular vision than birds with eyes on the sides of their heads. The owl doesn’t have moonlight or starlight every night that he’s hungry, so he listens too for rodents rustling in the leaves. This is the owl whose haunting mournful call is often used on movie sound tracks.

The understory isn’t completely clear. Greenbrier is a thorny tangled vine with heart shaped leaves that gives the squirrel a hiding place on the ground and would trip the unwary human and would certainly impede other predators.

Trumpet Creepers and grape vines add to the tangle in some parts of the forest. Poison Ivy achieves spectacular growth in this environment with the stems reaching the thickness of your forearm and climbing to the tops of the pine trees. The fruit, twigs and berries provide excellent and abundant food supply for white tailed deer, sikas, possums, ponies and at least fifty species of birds.

If you see a small heart-shaped face peering at you from a thicket, it’s our Sika. You’ve heard about them if you’ve been on the refuge more than ten minutes. These are the small Asian elk with the distinctive white patch on their rumps – their trademark- the powder-puff behind. A few Sikas, probably less than twenty were released on the island in the 1920’s.  Present population estimate is somewhat less than a thousand.

When you reach the pony overlook you will be facing an area of marsh with groundsel and marsh elder, flea bane and seaside goldenrod in season.

In the distance is the red and white 142 foot horizontally striped lighthouse about a mile and a half away. This is surprising when you remember that when the original 45 foot lighthouse was built in 1833 it stood near open sea. Toms Hook, the curved sandy stretch of the island has developed since the mid 1800′s.

To both right and left are small stands of Loblollies on slightly raised land areas. Often there are ponies loafing under the trees.

Where did these shaggy ponies come from?  You may take your choice of fact or legend. The early islanders let their live stock graze on the Barrier islands. These may be the descendents of those horses who have adapted to the harsh environment. Or you may choose to accept the stories of horses shipwrecked in the 1700’s – which swam to the safety of the islands and established a colony here. If you have a romantic streak, you may blend fact and legend. In any case, enjoy these hardy little island dwellers.

After leaving the pony overlook, you’ll come into an area where pools of fresh water stand near the trail. Here the vines and small shrubs are thicker and here is where you’ll find a large amount of bird activity.

You may be thinking that if it’s damp there’s a chance of snakes and amphibians- and you’d be correct. But don’t panic. As far as we know there are no venomous reptiles in residence here. We do have Hognose Snakes. This fellow gets his name from an up-turned snout. If threatened, he puts on a brave front; hisses, puffs out his head, and if this fails to make you back off, he will lie on his back, tongue hanging out of his gaping mouth and play dead.

The Black Rat Snake grows quite long; possibly 5 feet and is an excellent tree climber – often living in tree cavities. He is not venomous either.

Here near the fresh water ponds and brackish marshes you may find southern leopard frogs. They come in green or brown.

 The other amphibians you’re likely to encounter on the refuge are Fowler’s toads. They appear on sandy trails or around buildings. Their skin is dry, usually in shades of brown or grey with pale chests.

There’s a slight possibility of meeting a Red-Backed Salamander. They are only two and to five inches long. Not threatening creatures.

As this site is on the Atlantic flyway, we have a great many species of birds who visit us. We can’t begin to guess which ones you’ll encounter…it’s all up to season, weather and chance. Over Three hundred have been identified on this refuge, and twenty that have been seen only once or twice. Would you believe that the common house sparrow, The English Sparrow… falls into the Latter category, having been seen here only rarely. Oddly enough they are commonly seen on the next island to our west on Chincoteague Island.

 Warblers are frequent visitors to our refuge, some of them like the Pine Warbler and Prairie Warbler nesting here. Yellow Rumped Warblers were formerly called Myrtle Warblers because of their preference for the berries of the wax Myrtle bushes. Those berries are wax like and few other birds are able to digest them.

Red Eyed and White Eyed Vireos both nest here. These little fellows hide in myrtle thickets which provide excellent camouflage. During breeding season they sing throughout the day.

Bald eagles may be seen soaring over the refuge. . They aren’t bald you know, they have white feathers on their heads.  Turkey Vultures, often seen wheeling in the neighborhood really is bald.

If you don’t see woodpeckers along this trail, you’ll probably hear them. They peck at trees to locate food and also do a good bit of hammering in lieu of song, to impress their mates and also establish territory. Downy, hairy and Red Bellied Woodpeckers are seen here as well as Pileated Woodpeckers. The northern flicker is common as well. The Red Woodpecker is an occasional visitor.

You may hear a great scuffling in the leaves, in which case, look for the Rufous-sided Towhee leaves; he is, as his name suggests, rusty reddish brown. He has named himself, shouting “see tow See” although some listeners say he is asking you to “drink your tea”.

You’ll not be surprised to see Starlings here. From a flock of one hundred birds released in Manhattan in 1890, they have spread across the continent.  Their consumption of insects may be the one favorable characteristic of this bird.

You see, we’re nowhere near covering the three hundred plus species you might encounter: Owls, Buntings, Cardinals, Chickadees, Juncos… the list goes on…but walk the trail with alert.

Wilma Young served as a senior volunteer at several national parks, coming to the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge three times. 

Her last stay at the Chincoteague refuge was just before her 80th birthday in 1997-98. On this third stay she served as an environmental education teacher for the Chincoteague Natural History Association. As a volunteer in her first two summers, along with the various duties she was given, Wilma found time to write. She spent hours reading about Chincoteague history and conducting research in the libraries. Some of her articles later found their way onto the Refuge web site, some were published in our local newspapers and some were used as trail guides for other volunteers. Today, at the age of 90, Wilma is as intensely interested in protecting our planet as she ever was. She can talk non-stop about the ways we humans have found to cause harm to our environment. She is passionate about things most people never take the time to learn. Years ago she wrote a story for her granddaughter, explaining why she often wasn’t home. “Every living thing depends on other living things and although we know a lot of the connections, we don’t know them all.” In explaining her work with the Refuge to her granddaughter, Wilma wrote, “…I help report the numbers on the goose collars…I answer questions our visitors have about all the wild creatures…I notify the biologists of any reports of unusual sightings of sick animal or creatures caught in nets…sometimes I pick up trash on the beach…I wander the trails, answering more questions…and best of all I look up a lot of stuff then write about it to help people understand how much we all need each other.” It is hard to find the words to describe this caring, kind and concerned grandmother. But her precise and accurate writing speaks for itself. We are pleased to publish her work in Wild Pony Tales. – Robert Boswell, publisher. 

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By Windy Mason

 Xiao Xiao Zhang of Herndon was the Best of Show winner for the Jr. Duck Stamp Art Competition held at the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge on Friday, March 19. Xiao studies art through Xing Art Studio.

Runners up, all of which took first place, are Elizabeth Kim from Vienna, schooled by Erae Art Studio; Anne-Sophie Kim from Chantilly, schooled by Erae Art Studio; Sally Zhou from Fairfax, schooled by Xing Art Studio; and Amy Ann from Fairfax, schooled by Erae Art Studio.

Winners were chosen by age group.

For K-3, first place winners were Wen Ip from Herndon, schooled by Xing Art Studio; Rachel Eom from Burke, schooled by Erae Art Studio; and Jane Wang from Fairfax, schooled by Xing Art Studio. Second place winners in this group were Kathleen Li from Chantilly, schooled by Xing Art Studio; Annie Wu Burke, schooled by Xing Art Studio; and Elise Ong from Springfield, schooled by Hope Chinese School. The third place winners were Peter Kim from Burke, schooled by Erae Art Studio; David Sohn from Springfield, schooled by Erae Art Studio; and Victoria Ren from South Riding, schooled by Xing Art Studio.

For grades 4-6, first place winners were Vivian Aeyang from Oak Hill, schooled by Xing Art Studio and Nathan Luong from Burke, schooled by Xing Art Studio.  In second place were Janis Chen from Herndon, schooled by Xing Art Studio; Cynthia Zhuang from Herndon, schooled by Lu Wei’s Art Studio; and Beth Zhao from Fairfax, schooled by Xing Art Studio. Third place winners in this age group were Timothy Liu from Fairfax, schooled by Xing Art Studio; Helen Park from Lorton, schooled by Erae Art Studio; and Caroline Chen from South Riding, schooled by Xing Art Studio.

Grade 7-9 first place winner was Julia Yang from Oak Hill, schooled by Xing Art Studio. In second place were Virginia Hsu from Clifton, schooled by Xing Art Studio; Olivia Hsu from McLean, schooled by Xing Art Studio; and Rose Yim from Fairfax Station, schooled by Erae Art Studio. Third place winners were Yang Peng from Springfield, schooled by Hope Chinese School; Ashley Yoo from Herndon, schooled by Erae Art Studio; and Hillary Liu from Fairfax, schooled by Asian Pacific Art Institute of America.

In grades 10-12, the first place winner was Ray Zhang from Fairfax, schooled by Xing Art Studio. Second place winners were Eunice Wu from Vienna, schooled by Asian Pacific Art Institute of America and Keun Ji Lee from Centreville, schooled by Erae Art Studio. Third place winners were Ji Young Kim from Chantilly; Yeo Won Yoon from Burke, schooled by Veronica Art Class; and Xinyue Yao from Fairfax, schooled by Asian Pacific Art Institute of America.

Two Accomack County students won Honorable Mention. Matthew Annis, 15, from Parksley, a 10^th grader at Arcadia High School, was inspired by duck hunting and his art teacher, Mrs. Rosemary Gibbons. He entered an acrylic which he first drew and then painted. Sarah Fluhart, 15, from Pungoteague, who is homeschooled, was inspired by “her ducks.”  She entered an acrylic created from a picture that she had taken. Sarah also enjoys creating with water color pencil.

There were 229 entries from around the state. The competition was run by Jr. Duck Stamp Coordinator, Aubrey Hall, a member of the refuge staff. The judges were representatives from a variety of areas and backgrounds. They were: Bob Wilson, a former deputy manager of the refuge, and wildlife photographer who lives here on the shore; Merry Maxwell is a deputy refuge manager at Eastern Virginia Rivers National Wildlife Refuge Complex in Warsaw; Kim Check, an environmental educator at the Ward Museum of Waterfowl Art in Salisbury; Bear Starr, a birder and volunteer for Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge; and Wally Makuchal, Jr. the Maryland National Duck Stamp Contest winner in 2009, now from Worcester County. “The judges were selected for their familiarity with waterfowl, art and conservation as well as their connections to the wetlands of the Eastern Shore,” said Hall.

The Best of Show winner will go on to the national competition. The winning artwork in the national competition will be made into an actual stamp and sold to raise money which will be applied towards environmental education and to support the Jr. Duck Stamp Program. The Jr. Duck Stamp is sold for $5 by the U.S. Postal Service as well as the Amplex Corporation. The appeal of the Jr. Duck Stamp is for collection and support of environmental education. These stamps are prized by many stamp collectors.

The writer celebrated her 90th birthday in November. In the late 1980’s, she served as a volunteer and intern at several national parks, including the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. Along with her volunteer duties, she found time to make use of her research and writing talents. This is one of a number of articles and trail guides she wrote. Following a chance meeting with Wild Pony Tales publisher, Robert Boswell, four years ago on the Chincoteague Refuge tour bus, she made this article and others available to the website.

Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge was created for migratory birds in 1943 and is suitably located on the Atlantic flyway. The refuge is a major stopover and wintering area for waterfowl and spring migrations of shorebirds are tremendous, with the peak migration of songbirds through the area occurring during April. People often think of waterfowl, shorebirds and wading birds as the most important of the migratory birds, and these birds are, of course, seen in large numbers at Chincoteague Refuge.

Songbirds, also neo-tropical migrants, visit the refuge in huge numbers in spring and fall. Prairie Warblers, Red-eyed Vireos, White-eyed Vireos, Yellow Warblers, Indigo Buntings and all manner of colorful, fascinating song birds spend time feeding and resting in the shrubs and maritime forest of Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge.

Neo-tropical migratory birds are those species whose breeding areas and wintering areas span the Arctic and temperate areas of North America and the semi-tropical and tropical areas of Mexico, Central and South America and the Caribbean.

Some of our migrants do not go to the tropics, wintering instead at the southern limit of their range and to the Gulf of Mexico. The golden and bald eagles and the Black Crowned Night Heron make these shorter, though potentially hazardous, trips.

Migration is a particularly stressful time for birds; therefore, food and shelter take on added importance. Storms can lead to the deaths of migrants. Power lines can be killers of owls and raptors. Oil spills kill or endanger water birds. Poisons such as lead and mercury cause indirect or accidental death. Birds collide with spot lighted buildings, and TV and radio towers. Migrating birds are adversely affected by the destruction of stopover sites. Development on the coasts and the filling in of , wetlands have been contributing factors. As these staging areas dwindle, birds are more densely concentrated in small areas. The food supply must then be shared by more birds and the high concentration of birds increases the possibility of disease spreading among the avian population and also increases the opportunity for predation.

Even shore birds that appear to be abundant (Sandpipers, Ruddy Turnstones. Sanderlings, Dunlins) may be in jeopardy because of their dependence upon a few sites that supply super-abundant food
resources.

The long distances between presently existing rest areas may be prohibitive for such birds as the Piping Plover and many of the sandpipers. Disturbance of the migratory pattern may cause some birds to arrive so late that they can raise only one brood although ordinarily they might be able to raise two or even three.

Although all species of birds do not show the same rate of decline, it is known that at least one hundred and fifty species of North American birds are in jeopardy. There is no quick and easy solution to the diminishing of neo-tropical birds as each species may present a slightly different problem. These varied needs suggest the importance of attempting to maintain as diverse a habitat as possible.

Neo-tropical migrants make up sixty to eighty percent of all the breeding birds in the forests of eastern North America. These songbirds play a critical role in the eco-system both as consumers and as prey. Their breeding range consists of over fifteen million square miles, yet their wintering grounds comprise only two and three tenths million square miles.

Deforestation of this winter range has certainly been responsible for a percentage of the decline of many species. It is estimated that the tropical forests are being lost at a rate of one to three percent a year. Some countries such as Costa Rica and Cuba have lost eighty percent of their original forests.

While this can account for some of the decline of our song birds, we in North America must bear some of the responsibility. The Breeding Bird Survey has reported continuing decline of song
birds over the past twenty-seven years. The decline appears to fall under the categories of out-right habitat loss as well as the degradation of habitat. Prairie fragmentation in North American has caused us to lose numbers of grassland birds such as the Bobolink and Dickcissel. Fifty-four percent of our wetlands have been drained, filled and converted to other uses. It is possible that the Midwest has lost
as much as seventy to ninety percent of its wetlands.

Fragmentation of the forests results in birds being forced to nest in small woodlots where they are vulnerable to predators such as skunks, raccoons, jays, grackles, snakes and house pets as well as to the parasitism of cowbirds. Predators thrive on the edge of the woodlands.

Brown-headed cowbirds once favored open country west of the Mississippi using the open prairie for feeding and social display. As forests were cleared, their range extended. Now they range over the entire United States. They are not nest builders, choosing instead to lay their eggs in the nests of song birds. Cowbirds parasitize at least one hundred and forty-four species of birds, most commonly Vireos, Warblers and Flycatchers.

Although they depend on other birds to raise their young, they are an extremely successful species, doubling their population in eight years.

The refuge, created in 1943 to provide habitat and protection for migratory birds is an excellent site for both migrating and nesting birds. The fresh water impoundments on the refuge are managed for the benefit of waterfowl, shorebirds and wading birds. Water levels in some of these impoundments are slowly lowered in April and May to provide ideal conditions for the germination and growth of plants suitable as food for waterfowl which migrate through the refuge in the fall and those which remain on the refuge all winter. The receding water levels provide excellent feeding opportunities for shore and wading birds.

A recently completed habitat enhancement project on the refuge involved the planting of Wax Myrtle shrubs along a portion of the Beach Road. This grassy area is regularly frequented by brown-
headed cowbirds. The wax myrtle will eventually provide additional habitat for neo-tropical migrants and reduce the feeding area for cowbirds. This effort may reduce the number of parasitized nests in the adjacent Loblolly Pine forest.

Since 1973, we have had an Endangered Species Act which allows the USFWS to classify a species as Endangered when there is imminent danger of its extinction. Those species likely to be in danger
soon are considered Threatened. There are also candidates for Special Concern: those known to have suffered losses but still awaiting formal recognition of the severity of their decline. The National Audubon Society recognizes the un-official impairment to a species. This group, thought to be in a decline, is named in a Blue List. Some birds appear to be doing well in many regions of the country, but are of local concern.

Plans for the recovery of breeding populations include the effort to restore habitat, the use of captive breeding programs with release as a goal (as in the peregrine falcon programs), the introduction of nesting boxes for purple martins and blue birds and the closing of areas to public use at breeding time for such birds as the piping plover. There is also an effort to assist developing countries in the use of their natural resources without the concomitant effect of destroying wetlands, grasslands and woodlands.

There is no quick and easy solution to the diminishing of our birds as each species may present a slightly different problem. These varied needs suggest to us that we should attempt to maintain as many diverse habitats as possible.

So why do we care whether we lose a few species of bird? People come first, right? Remember that canaries were taken into the mines. If the birds died, the miner knew that his own life was endangered. We are now looking at birds’ reactions to give us a clue about our general health as related to the environment. What threatens the birds also threatens us. Ozone depletion may cause Cancer and it may damage food production. Our water sources are already showing the effects of acid rain. Fish productions are limited by this. Rapid climate changes damage our agricultural systems.

WHAT CAN WE DO?

On a global and national level, we can support projects which fight against environmental destruction and encourage environmental diversity.

On a local level, homeowners who are responsible for small yards may contribute by providing shelter and feeding sites. A bird bath is a simple addition to the yard. Pools or clean stream beds large enough to support plants that grow in and around water are an even greater asset. If your municipality has no local “weed” ordinance, and if you have no driving desire to own a “perfect” lawn, you might plant native wild flowers and shrubs. Standing dead tree trunks also offer nest sites and shelter.

WHY DO BIRDS MIGRATE?

Over the centuries, people have been fascinated by bird migration. Why do birds migrate? How do they manage to locate breeding and wintering sites? In fact, for many years the mystery was where they went. Aristotle firmly believed that some birds hibernated in hollow trees or perhaps buried themselves in mud. One of the more fanciful notions was that they flew to the moon for the winter.

A theory held until fairly recently was the transmutation of species. People thought that one species disappeared and a different one appeared in its place.

Most people found it easy enough to believe that large, obviously strong birds, could fly long distances; but they doubted that small birds would be able to endure long flights and so assumed that the little fellows must hitch rides on the backs of larger birds or on ships going in the general direction of their destination.

Some birds make spectacularly long flights. some manage remarkable continuous flights without rest as others achieve unusual speeds.

Dr. Robin Baker, in his book “The Mystery of Migration”, makes this startling observation: “Every year, as the summer wanes, willow Warblers weighing only a few grams undertake a journey of 8000
kilometers (5000 miles) to escape winter’s rigors. In human terms, this is equivalent to traveling ten times the distance from the earth to the moon or 38,625,000 kilometers (24,140,000 miles)”.
Weather may be a triggering factor in migration but the underlying reason is surely to ensure food supply. Birds do not migrate unless they are ready to do so.

HOW DO BIRDS KNOW WHERE THEY ARE GOING?

It cannot be assumed that young birds follow older birds during migration because in some species, the young migrate at different times. Sometimes preceding the adults.

Although birds have excellent vision and could possibly remember landmarks, this doesn’t explain how young birds can find their winter homes on their first unescorted trips. It is probable that birds use a number of clues including sight, smell, and the earth’s magnetic force. Possibly they take bearings from sun, moon and stars and even have an ability to recognize home after an absence of as much as eight years. Beyond these things they may use a number of clues that we do not even suspect.

If migration is so stressful, why do birds persist in repeating this hardship? Migration makes it possible for birds to have the best of all worlds: abundant food in an agreeable climate while they raise their families and warm homes in winter, with rich food sources during their resting period.

By Kate White

Co-Editor, Wild Pony Tales

Thanks to the efforts of the biologists and other staff members of the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, and those at other refuges, the fluffy tailed Delmarva Fox Squirrel, still on the endangered species list, continues to gain in population. Around 200 of them live on the refuge now.

But with mating season arriving in February and March, with young ones to follow in about 45 days, the refuge biologists want to caution drivers to be on the lookout for them as they scamper across roads and along the sides of roadways. As Joelle Buffa, senior biologist tells visitors about the Delmarva Fox Squirrel, she warns them to slow down and watch for the squirrels on roads throughout, the refuge. Three to nine squirrels are killed by cars annually. The first squirrel death this year occurred last week

 The Chincoteague refuge was one of seven sites designated by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service for fox squirrel recovery, first in 1979. In the following years habitat was established or altered to help build the population and information was collected on growth rates, movements, age and sex.

Ms. Buffa said along with efforts to protect the Delmarva Fox Squirrel, staff members work to educate the public. She said they have anniversaries, events, and sometimes even go to schools to tell kids about them and show them how to trap one. This is done by refuge staff only for population assessment.  Ms. Buffa said the biologists and other staff members will spend the same time monitoring and managing for the squirrel even if it comes off the endangered list, which is a long process

The Delmarva Fox Squirrel has a large, fluffy tail. It’s frosty silver to slate gray with a white belly. Females weigh more than the males, but they can grow up to 30 inches long and 15 inches tall.

 The breeding season peaks in February or March, but older females may breed twice a year. Places you might see them are in pines, marsh and shrubs, especially along the Woodland Trail, a popular trail for visitors, and at the end of the parking lots near forested areas

The female raises her young alone, taking care of a litter of 3 or 4. The young are born naked and blind, with their eyes opening in about five weeks. The refuge has built small boxes in several locations which some squirrels use as homes and for giving birth. The small wooden boxes are mostly made for protection from other animals and the weather. The squirrels also nest in hollows and cavities in trees. The fox squirrel prefers to move about in open areas under trees rather than dense undergrowth. Some wooded areas have been cleared of undergrowth to provide the fox squirrel with their preferred habitat. In moving around, the fox squirrel usually climbs down a tree then crosses on the ground to another tree, rather than jumping from tree to tree like the gray squirrel.

Their diet consists of insects, fruits, seeds, and flowers which are located in small forested areas. But during the harsh winter, they eat harvested nuts and hibernate in pines, oaks, and maples until spring. They can be seen on the ground nibbling on small buds starting to bloom or varieties of fungi. They especially like pecans but snack on other small things including mushrooms.

I have lived near Assateague Island in Virginia all my life. Most of my ancestors were born nearby, on Chincoteague Island and many have lived there for years. I have visited them often over the years and have been to the beautiful Assateague Beach many times. 

But today I got to see a part of Assateague that was new to me. I got to ride 7 ½ miles into a wilderness seen only by a few of the 1.5 million visitors that come each year not only from all over the U.S. , but all over the world. 

Along the way, as part of a group on a small tour bus that leaves from the information center, I learned a lot. The driver, Mrs. Joanne Lapole, carefully told us about everything that crossed our path including a snapping turtle, a Sika elk, the glossy ibis, which is a long-beaked wading bird; the nesting boxes of the endangered Delmarva Fox Squirrel, Canada geese and the snowy egret. She didn’t mind stopping, or even backing up, for us to get a clearer view. 

Our guide told us about the history of the Chincoteague Lighthouse which is a favorite stop for visitors. She said that at the bottom of the lighthouse there was a village, the families that lived there had to change the candles that provided lights for the ships and boats that came along. 

Joanne has two other jobs. She is a county school bus driver and is a teaching assistant at Kegotank Elementary here in Accomack County. “I love my job as a tour guide,” she said, and my other jobs.”She is the mother of two daughters, 21 and 24. The wildlife tours are not without some amusing incidents. “When grown men ask me to stop the bus so they can go to the bathroom,” she said. They had better hope she stops near a large tree because, other than the woods, there are no bathrooms. All of the birds and animals we saw share this wilderness in the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, with some pretty famous four-legged residents, the Chincoteague ponies. And boy did we see ponies. 

There were newborn foals, some sleeping and others bouncing along after their mothers. The older ponies were grazing and being themselves, only a few feet from us. Passengers are not allowed to get off the bus, but the bus has large windows that give everyone a great view. We learned from Joanne that the pony mares live in bands of six or seven that belong to a stallion who keeps a watchful eye on them. 

One colt came right up to us trying to figure out who these intruders were, looking at him through the bus windows. As we took photos he seemed to say, “Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” 
This colt and most of the others don’t have much time left to enjoy their freedom in the wilderness where they were born. On July 22 he will be rounded up with all the others and run into a large corral, where the next morning they will be escorted by the world famous Salt Water Cowboys along the sand of the Atlantic Ocean in front of several thousand anxious spectators. (See story, the Beach Run, on the story menu.) 

They will be moved into the corral on Beach Road to await the big day when they will swim Assateague Channel in front 30 to 40 thousand people. The foals, except for a few holdbacks and buybacks, will never return to their homeland, but will move on to new homes after being sold one by one to the highest bidders at the auction on July 26. Money from the auction, with some ponies going for $7,000 or more, supports the Chincoteague Fire Company. 

The ponies of the Virginia northern herd, not seen by most visitors to the islands, share a vast wilderness with other wildlife, including snapping turtles, Sika elk, white tailed deer, wild turkeys, the Delmarva Fox Squirrel and birds of all kinds.   On our way back we got to see a lone elk just springing across the shallow water of Chincoteague Bay near the shoreline. He went a long way before finally coming onto land just a little ways from us. There is just something about seeing an animal completely free in their natural surroundings that is hard to describe. These little elk are hunted, though, in the fall to keep their population under control.

 This was my first time on a tour, which is sponsored by the Chincoteague Natural History Association. This is a large organization mostly of volunteers that supports the educational goals of the agencies that run the national park. 

I had a great time with my friends on this trip, which took two hours, but it was not just a pleasure outing. I am one of the newest writers for this on-line magazine. So along with me were two other writers, Harley Gooldrup and Misty Thornton, and Robert Boswell, the publisher of www.wildponytales.info and our journalism teacher. Harley is a rising 8^th grader at Nandua Middle School here in Accomack County on the Eastern Shore.  Misty and I are both students at Arcadia Middle School where she is going into the 8^th grade and I am going into 7^th. 
      

For us it was a learning day, as Mr. Boswell calls it, with us taking notes and learning to use the cameras, especially the one with the 100-400 mm lens. As he tells us, we get to share what we see and hear with our viewers around the world. It is a good feeling to be able to do this, to tell people who may never come here, about this place so close to my home. 

If there is one more thing I want to say, it would be that if you are coming to Chincoteague, take this inexpensive bus tour, only $10 for adults and $5.00 for children. It is almost the only way you are likely to see the ponies up close in their natural, wild habitat. There are commercial boat tours that take visitors up to the shoreline where the ponies roam and sometimes you can see ponies from the southern herd up close, but not often. These tour buses are air conditioned, comfortable with big windows and the tour guides are the best. Just remember, use the restroom before you board the bus, two hours can be a long time.

I have lived near Assateague Island in Virginia all my life. Most of my ancestors were born nearby, on Chincoteague Island and many have lived there for years. I have visited them often over the years and have been to the beautiful Assateague Beach many times. 

But today I got to see a part of Assateague that was new to me. I got to ride 7 ½ miles into a wilderness seen only by a few of the 1.5 million visitors that come each year not only from all over the U.S. , but all over the world. 

Along the way, as part of a group on a small tour bus that leaves from the information center, I learned a lot. The driver, Mrs. Joanne Lapole, carefully told us about everything that crossed our path including a snapping turtle, a Sika elk, the glossy ibis, which is a long-beaked wading bird; the nesting boxes of the endangered Delmarva Fox Squirrel, Canada geese and the snowy egret. She didn’t mind stopping, or even backing up, for us to get a clearer view. 

Our guide told us about the history of the Chincoteague Lighthouse which is a favorite stop for visitors. She said that at the bottom of the lighthouse there was a village, the families that lived there had to change the candles that provided lights for the ships and boats that came along. 

Joanne has two other jobs. She is a county school bus driver and is a teaching assistant at Kegotank Elementary here in Accomack County. “I love my job as a tour guide,” she said, and my other jobs.”She is the mother of two daughters, 21 and 24. The wildlife tours are not without some amusing incidents. “When grown men ask me to stop the bus so they can go to the bathroom,” she said. They had better hope she stops near a large tree because, other than the woods, there are no bathrooms. All of the birds and animals we saw share this wilderness in the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, with some pretty famous four-legged residents, the Chincoteague ponies. And boy did we see ponies. 

There were newborn foals, some sleeping and others bouncing along after their mothers. The older ponies were grazing and being themselves, only a few feet from us. Passengers are not allowed to get off the bus, but the bus has large windows that give everyone a great view. We learned from Joanne that the pony mares live in bands of six or seven that belong to a stallion who keeps a watchful eye on them. 

One colt came right up to us trying to figure out who these intruders were, looking at him through the bus windows. As we took photos he seemed to say, “Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” 
This colt and most of the others don’t have much time left to enjoy their freedom in the wilderness where they were born. On July 22 he will be rounded up with all the others and run into a large corral, where the next morning they will be escorted by the world famous Salt Water Cowboys along the sand of the Atlantic Ocean in front of several thousand anxious spectators. (See story, the Beach Run, on the story menu.) 

They will be moved into the corral on Beach Road to await the big day when they will swim Assateague Channel in front 30 to 40 thousand people. The foals, except for a few holdbacks and buybacks, will never return to their homeland, but will move on to new homes after being sold one by one to the highest bidders at the auction on July 26. Money from the auction, with some ponies going for $7,000 or more, supports the Chincoteague Fire Company. 

The ponies of the Virginia northern herd, not seen by most visitors to the islands, share a vast wilderness with other wildlife, including snapping turtles, Sika elk, white tailed deer, wild turkeys, the Delmarva Fox Squirrel and birds of all kinds.   On our way back we got to see a lone elk just springing across the shallow water of Chincoteague Bay near the shoreline. He went a long way before finally coming onto land just a little ways from us. There is just something about seeing an animal completely free in their natural surroundings that is hard to describe. These little elk are hunted, though, in the fall to keep their population under control.

 This was my first time on a tour, which is sponsored by the Chincoteague Natural History Association. This is a large organization mostly of volunteers that supports the educational goals of the agencies that run the national park. 

I had a great time with my friends on this trip, which took two hours, but it was not just a pleasure outing. I am one of the newest writers for this on-line magazine. So along with me were two other writers, Harley Gooldrup and Misty Thornton, and Robert Boswell, the publisher of www.wildponytales.info and our journalism teacher. Harley is a rising 8^th grader at Nandua Middle School here in Accomack County on the Eastern Shore.  Misty and I are both students at Arcadia Middle School where she is going into the 8^th grade and I am going into 7^th. 
      

For us it was a learning day, as Mr. Boswell calls it, with us taking notes and learning to use the cameras, especially the one with the 100-400 mm lens. As he tells us, we get to share what we see and hear with our viewers around the world. It is a good feeling to be able to do this, to tell people who may never come here, about this place so close to my home. 

If there is one more thing I want to say, it would be that if you are coming to Chincoteague, take this inexpensive bus tour, only $10 for adults and $5.00 for children. It is almost the only way you are likely to see the ponies up close in their natural, wild habitat. There are commercial boat tours that take visitors up to the shoreline where the ponies roam and sometimes you can see ponies from the southern herd up close, but not often. These tour buses are air conditioned, comfortable with big windows and the tour guides are the best. Just remember, use the restroom before you board the bus, two hours can be a long time.

 By Windy Mason

The thousands of snow geese and other waterfowl that each year take the Atlantic Flyway to the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge where they feed and rest in the pools of fresh and brackish water, delighting the visitors who show up to see them each Thanksgiving, this year found their feeding grounds covered with deep salt water, forcing them to relocate to places further north on the refuge.

In the pounding that the refuge and the Eastern Shore took for three days, November 17, 18 and 19, when it seemed like the wind and rain would never let up, the Atlantic Ocean roared ashore, sending water overtop roads, and filling the carefully managed feeding impoundments with salt water, that was too deep to allow the ducks and geese to reach the plants and bugs they eat. The unrelenting storm also dumped three feet or more of sand over the beach parking lots.

Joelle Buffa, senior biologist at the refuge, came back to work the Sunday after the storm. “There was water in a lot of places that didn’t normally have water,” she said. “A lot of the Wildlife Loop was under water so I was unable to drive on it,” said Buffa. “In the pools where there are normally dabbling ducks, mallards and shovelers which like water between six and 12 inches, instead there were diving ducks, like ruddy ducks, which normally only like the deeper water,” Buffa said. “There were shorebirds feeding on the water covered roads,” she said. “The immediate reason that the birds left the ponds was because the water was too deep.” These ponds are starting to have ducks in them again, because the water is low again, she said.

Amanda Daisey, the refuge wildlife biologist, said the habitat alteration and structure damage, from the November storm was very similar to changes caused by hurricane Isabel in 2003 and tropical storm Ernesto in 2006. Daisey has been at the Chincoteague refuge since 2002. Daisey said when she was sitting in the briefing given the Monday morning after the storm by Lou Hinds, refuge manager, she thought, “Here we go again.”

On Wednesday after the storm Daisey and others surveyed Assateague Island by helicopter. “Viewing the refuge and all of its islands from the air gave me a better understanding and appreciation of how Virginia’s barrier island chain functions in a natural ecosystem,” she said.

There was apparently little impact on the smaller wildlife on the island, or the wild ponies.

Hinds said they had found a few dead frogs. The turtles, and other amphibians, are believed to have moved out of elevated salinity ponds, said Daisey.

There are 14 fresh and brackish water impoundments covering over 2,623 acres. Going all the way to the Maryland line, they were constructed on the refuge 40 years ago to provide wetland vegetation as forage for waterfowl and habitat for other water birds and wildlife.

Impoundments are pools of water formed by dams or pits, to supply water for wildlife, protect their habitats and to control erosion. Fresh water impoundments are rich in soil nutrients needed for plant food growth for the wildlife. Impoundment water levels are controlled to encourage the growth of these plants and improve overall impoundment vegetation for winter feeding, nesting and other wildlife uses.

“My biggest concern was the integrity of the water control structures,” said Buffa. “Riding up Beach Road, I could see the waves coming up and over into Swan Pond Pool. There was the concern that some of the infrastructure that keeps these ponds fresh water ponds was not in good shape to begin with and it was getting worse.”

“One of the reasons we didn’t open the service road for Thanksgiving was because of damage to the road, as well as the fact that we couldn’t get people to the road because the Wildlife Loop was covered with water, Buffa said. “The service road was also closed to staff, because too much pressure could collapse it,” Buffa said.

“When we realize that there is a storm coming, there’s certain actions we take with our impoundments,” said Buffa. “As far as opening up the water control structures so that the water can flow out into the ocean, prior to the storm arriving here, we had done everything that we could to lessen the impact of the storm,” she said.

Despite opening up the water control structures prior to the storm, these pools were invaded by salt water pounding in waves up Beach Road into the impoundments, creating lingering problems with elevated salinity levels in the fresh and brackish pools. The impoundments are inhabited by plants with limited salt tolerance including linear-leaved loosestrife, swamp rose-mallow, rushes, umbrella-grass and Virginia button weed. These elevated saline levels are a danger to the composition of the plants and insects necessary to sustain the coming growing season beginning in March.

“Almost three weeks after the storm, the water levels are returning to normal. The salinity, however, is still elevated,” Buffa said. “This takes a longer time to go down than the levels; because the salt water is sitting on the bottom, meaning that the impoundments are getting rid of fresh water faster than the salt water,” she explained. “They cannot just be flushed out really fast,” she said, “This is a lingering effect of the storm.”

“Right now it has less of an effect because it is not growing season,” said Buffa.

Eva Savage, Biology Technician is the primary person in charge of water level management on the refuge. She has the heavy workload of removing or replacing the boards on the water control gates that allows water to flow in and out.

The refuge, which attracts about 1.5 million visitors a year, supports wintering snow geese, canada geese, black ducks, mallards, green-winged teal, northern pintail, ruddy duck, tundra swan and many other species.

Assateague Channel and Tom’s Cove provide critical winter feeding habitat for brant, who use refuge impoundments for fresh water and resting. The snow geese also loaf and rest in the protected impoundments. Mute swans nest in the impoundments. The geese rely on vegetation found in the impoundments and grain in mainland fields for nourishment. The ducks eat bugs that live on the plants and in the mud, as well as seeds from flowering plants. The diving ducks eat fish and dive for clams.

“The biggest effect was on the snow geese,” said Buffa. “We had like 3,000 and then they went down to zero,” she said. “That doesn’t mean that they left the refuge; they just weren’t in the places that they usually were.” They kind of adapted,” she said. “Snow geese normally like fresh or brackish water, she said, “Snow geese reach their peak in November when some of the migrants are here and also some of the wintering birds.” “The migrants just rest here and then move on,” she said, “We have a fairly high wintering population here.” Joelle explained, “We didn’t see the November peak this year; because of the storm.”

Management of refuge impoundments also enhances this habitat for wading ducks, egrets, heron and ibis which frequent the borrow ditches. Glossy ibis, black-crowned night heron, green-backed heron, tricolor and blue heron, several rail species, and great, snowy and cattle egrets all feed in the refuge marshes.

When spotted by editor-photographer Elizabeth Fread, along the Assateague Wildlife Loop, the Glossy Ibis appeared to be dark brown or black as it used its distinctive long beak to forage for a meal in the shallow waters along the road. It wasn’t until the photographs were pulled up on the computer screen that the painting-like coloring became apparent. As often the case, our long lens had captured what could not be seen with the naked eye.

The Glossies can be seen by visitors, not only along the loop, but other locations on the island as well. This Glossy paid us little attention, although with our telephoto lens we did not have to get up close. Also, Elizabeth has gotten quite good at moving about quietly when stalking a bird or an animal. This Glossy just went about his business of dipping his, possibly her, beak into the shallow water, then flying in little jumps, from one side of the small pond to the other, as the search for dinner continued.

 The Glossy Ibis is a bird that is about 20 inches tall, 19 inches long and has a wingspan of about 3 feet. This bird has a shiny, almost iridescent, green tail and wings. The rest of its body is dark purple or black. The most prominent feature of this bird is its beak, long and curved and yellowish in color. The Glossy Ibis is a bird that is about 20 inches tall, 19 inches long and has a wingspan of about 3 feet. This bird has a shiny, almost iridescent, green tail and wings. The rest of its body is dark purple or black.

 The most prominent feature of this bird is its beak, long and curved and yellowish in color.

During the spring and summer this bird can be found from Maine to Texas. So what better a place to look for them than Assateague Island?

The Glossy Ibis prefers to live in a variety of wetlands including marshes, coastal bays, swamps, estuaries or even a flooded field and that makes Assateague an ideal location.

The glossies make their nests out of the sticks and twigs, preferring to nest in colonies with other wading birds. With help from one of the park biologists perhaps we can bring you this photo sometime in the future. Glossy Ibis lay about 3 or 4 eggs. They prefer to make their nests to be either in a tree or in a bush but will settle for the ground if they need to. They prefer fresh water over salt water, making Assateague with its fresh water ponds, a special attraction. The Ibis eat aquatic insects and crustaceans.

There is little difference in the coloring and sizes of the males and females. Young Glossies do not have the coloring of adults. Both male and female parents feed and care for their young.

There seems to be a difference of opinion how many of them stay through the winter. The Birds of Virginia Field Guide says most of them leave in the winter. However, the Assateague.com site says these beautiful birds are common in the spring and fall and abundant in winter.

There is also a White Ibis that has none of the distinctive coloring of the Glossy.

The Wildlife Loop offers visitors a variety of habitats to explore. It opens at 3 p.m., closes at dusk, during the summer months.

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By Windy Mason and Robert Boswell

Early last December when the eagles returned to their nest on the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, they found that high winds had damaged their home, causing it to fall about three feet. When the eagles returned a couple of weeks ago, after the November storm that pounded the Eastern Shore for three days, they found that the nest had this time been completely destroyed.

If the eagles were upset, no one could tell as they went right to work rebuilding, preparing the nest so they can lay eggs in late January. The nest is located high up in the Loblolly pine trees on the Wildlife Loop on the refuge. It is the same nest that drew thousands to the Bateman information center last year to watch live on a TV screen as the eagle parents rewove sticks and small branches to complete their structure just in time to lay eggs.

Visitors then counted the days, watching the male and female adults take turns sitting on the three eggs they laid, the first on January 25, the last on January 31. The excitement around the information center grew as time for the eggs to hatch grew near. Then, on March 2, the first eaglet used his “egg tooth” a point at the top, to break through the shell. The eggs hatched in the same order they were laid, the last by March 11.

Only one of the three eaglets survived, getting a daily diet of regurgitated fish brought to the nest from nearby waters. . The surviving eaglet left in early summer. The adults left soon after, returning recently for the new mating season.

The nest when rebuilt could be as large as 6 to 8 feet across, 12 feet deep and weigh over 1,000 pounds. But as of this week the eagles had a long way to go. Fresh, green twigs and pine needles can be seen on the screen. “They’re rebuilding it now,” said Michael Dixon, visitor services manager. “They’re both very active on the nest.”

The cable that carries the TV signal from the nest to the information center also needs repair. “We’ve had some trouble since the storm,” said Dixon. He said a repairman had been out in a kayak, trying to locate the problem.

Questions about the eagles can be directed to the visitor center through email at FW5RW_CNWR@fws.gov and by phone 757-336-6122. Other developments can be found on the at http://www.fws.gov/northeast/chinco/

While the eagles were at work on their nest, the refuge staff was also busy, restoring trails, roads, trying to reopen the park to visitors as soon as possible. Work has begun moving several feet of sand from around the circle at the beach and the parking lot to the north.

Before the full staff reported to work on Monday following the storm, Dixon came in on Saturday to take a new intern on a tour of the refuge. “There were some blue skies and the sun came out out and all looked somewhat right in the world,” said Dixon.

“But upon further discovery, when you go out to the beach and you see firsthand the three to four feet of sand which is covering the parking lots, one gets a true sense of what happened. I drove up the service road and went out and looked at the dunes that are on the north end and you could see where they had been carved out by the sea and the storm surge,” he said.

“The elevation of the dunes on the north end are much higher than the ones you see on the south end. So when you saw the erosion of the sand, there was a cliff-like drop off from the dunes being eroded away. The other dramatic change that occurred on the southern part of the island was the major over wash that cut through the Hook, creating another island”, said Dixon.

In the two and a half years he has been at the refuge this was the worst storm he experienced. “What surprised me most was seeing that from Beach Road to the Wildlife Loop was all covered with water,”

 “The wind gage at the National Park Service visitor center near the beach was destroyed at 70 knots,” Dixon said. Also, he said, out to the end of Swans Cove, hundreds of conch shells, not usually found there, were laying all around by the hundred.

Monday, November 21, was the first day the full staff reported to work. It began with a staff meeting conducted by Lou Hinds, refuge manager. “I was fielding calls from the Associated Press and other reporters who were calling in seeking information,” Dixon said. “The refuge manager and biologists were still assessing damage by going up in the helicopters, obtaining aerial photographs, coordinating with the National Park Service and other partners to really get a full sense of what was going on.”

Dixon said part of his job, along with other staff members, was to gather information so the refuge manager could make appropriate decisions about trail closures or public access. “It’s a challenge to keep pace with what’s happening on the ground and what people want to know,” said Dixon.

Dixon said he was struck at the resiliency of wildlife to adapt. “The birds, including snow geese which come at Thanksgiving, obviously were impacted. With salt water from the ocean covering their food supply, they relocated further north on the refuge.

“The other thing that amazed me was the willingness of people to help with the recovery effort. By that Monday, when we officially returned to work, the tree that fell over in front of the visitors’ center was gone, the boardwalk was repaired. The employees and volunteers immediately went to work. Dixon, who lives in Salisbury, said, “I felt bad being so far away and not being able to contribute to the effort; but at the same time, I felt relieved knowing that the community would come together for the sake of wildlife and this wonderful destination.”

The writer celebrated her 90^th birthday in November. In the late 1980’s, she served as a volunteer and intern at several national parks, including the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. Along with her volunteer duties, she found time to make use of her research and writing talents. This is one of a number of articles and trail guides she wrote. Following a chance meeting with Wild Pony Tales publisher, Robert Boswell, four years ago on the Chincoteague Refuge tour bus, she made this article and others available to the website.

Writhing boa constrictors, ravenous tigers and lethal stone fish have kept theirdistance from me up to this decade of my life. However small critters have intruded into my household and life style with some consistency.          

Wilma Young at her home in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Photo by Misty Thornton.

If you choose to live on federal sites in the wilderness as I have and trade your volunteer skills for housing, you may find that you have unusual housemates. My human housemates have been a delight. The small wildlife has been interesting, captivating and in some cases given to intimacies I could have forgone; as for example, the “kissing bug” known also as the assassin bug.  

For my first adventure I had chosen the desert. One late October evening I arrived at a national monument in the Southwest where I was assigned a vacant cottage that had not been inhabited for a season. The chief ranger explained that some of the outside critters might have moved inside during the absence of human tenants. “We do not use poisons or pesticides,” he warned me.

As I did not plan to do battle with any of the incumbent residents, I gave this admonition no further thought. Monte Carlo in the carport, duffel bag and suitcases in the room I had chosen for myself, I set about to make myself at home.

A hot shower seemed in order after the long drive across the Sonoran Desert; icy drops across my back were my reward. Ah well, a sponge bath in a gallon of water heated on the kitchen stove would have to do: locate maintenance personnel first thing in the morning.

For a single diner the dining room table was too expansive so I set up my light supper on the coffee table by the patio window. A cheese omelet, fruit and coffee would be enjoyed as I looked across the valley at the Sierra Anchos Mountains now bathed in alpenglow.

SOFT SOUNDS OF SOMEONE chewing caught my attention. Dismissing them as the odd noises of an unfamiliar house, I finished my omelet. No. Definitely this is someone chewing with open mouth. If I must have an intruder, let him have good table manners. Gently I put down my coffee cup. Stealthily I tiptoed to the kitchen door. At the far end of the kitchen I spotted an upright pipe which had evidently been the waste pipe for a washing machine. The top of the pipe was capped with a bit ofheavy plastic, secured by a rubber band. Extending through the plastic was a small head, jaws busily destroying the plastic. Field mouse? Deer mouse? White footed mouse? Though I was unsure of the species here in Arizona, a mouse is only a mouse and no threat.

When the wee rodent discovered me, he ducked out of sight. I retreated a step or two and waited. Soon the tiny face re-appeared and the plastic demolition continued. We executed this advance and retreat dance until I decided to return to my coffee. I have no problem with sharing the house with a mouse. “‘Wee slicket cowerin creature’ and all that Bobby Burns stuff” I mused.

By the time I was enjoying my second cup of coffee, it occurred to me that I was in the desert and had no idea where the other end of that pipe might be nor what other small creatures might use this passage to my domicile.

Putting additional plastic over the pipe was a useless endeavor. A wad of steel wool would do the trick as mice can’t chew through that and I was sure snakes, spiders and scorpions would be equally deterred. Exploration of the cupboards revealed no steel wool and I was 30 miles from the nearest store, which would most likely be closed at this hour.

My Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary lay in the trunk of my car and there, I realized, was my salvation. Balanced carefully on the top of the pipe, it removed the possibility of rodent, reptile or arachnid intrusion. It did produce a lifted eyebrow from the new housemate later that week.

THE HEAD OF MAINTENANCE explained the next day while restoring my hot water supply that he had routinely checked the empty house and had found desiccated corpses of mice. He was puzzled as to the mode of entry and once they were in, why had they not exited by the same route rather than starving to death. So was the mystery of the skinny little corpses solved.

“We never kill any creatures on the site,” the chief ranger had said. Although I had cheerily replied, “no problem,” I was forced, after considered thought, to amend my answer, “unless, of course, you have brown recluse spiders, in which case, I’m putting out a contract on them.”

This negative attitude can be justified. Twenty years ago while living in a garden apartment in the Yorkville section of Manhattan, I had met my first and only brown recluse. During a shower one night I noticed a small red spot on my thigh. The next morning I was unable to cover the inflamed area with my outspread hand. The medical folk failed to identify it immediately and for two weeks I was plagued with disagreeable tests as the wound deepened and the tissue became necrotic. At long last it was identified as the bite of a brown recluse spider. Those miserable weeks left an indelible memory as well as a scar.

The second night in the cottage I was happily involved in a P. D. James mystery when I noticed a slight movement on the davenport beside me. Sure enough…my nemesis! A brown recluse spider with the tell tale mark of a violin on its back. Inoffensive looking…wimpy, in fact. Before my tenure was over I encountered a dozen of these arachnids in my quarters. What happened to them? I wish to assert my Fifth Amendment privilege.

TARANTULAS SEEM TO ME more acceptable housemates. Lying on the floor one coolish spring evening propped up against a pillow, I was enjoying the scent of our juniper wood fire when a tarantula wandered by. When viewed from above, they scarcely seem menacing but in an eye to eye position the view is startling. From this vantage point, the advantage seems to be all on the side of the spider, he seemed to be stalking me on his long hairy legs.

I reminded myself of all that reading I had done. “This creature is not aggressive.” OK. “The bite is painful but not deadly.” OK. “This spider eats other insects which are more threatening to humans than he is,” the ranger had said. OK, Hoping my hairy friend had an appetite for brown recluse spiders I moved myself and my pillow and went off to make my always-consoling cup of coffee. I did leave the screen door open and as far as I know he went out into the desert twilight to share his experience with his chums.

In that same cottage, I was awakened one night by an appalling stench. Something, I was sure, had died in the living room and had reached a state of decay that passed all imagination. Javelinas lived on the site, I’d been told and they were said to emit a noticeable odor. Noticeable, indeed! Rank…fetid…malodorous!

These wild pigs had escaped my notice before. Now was my chance to catch them in full scent, as it were. Barefoot and in the dark, I reached the front window through which I could view a dozen or so pigs scuffling around the garbage can. When I turned on the patio light each porker attempted to go in a different direction. They are said to be near sighted and easily panicked. This rugby scrum surely bore out that theory.

“Hey! This way, guys!” they seemed to be saying.

“No…no…that’s the people place! The desert is this way! I’ve told you and told you and told you…toward the saguaro.”

EVENTUALLY THEY SORTED themselves out and disappeared into the night. Essence of javelina clung to the prickly pear in the morning. The pads of the cactus were scalloped with teeth marks, portions of the pad bitten out. Javelinas devour pad, spines and all.

An early explorer had written home that a pig existed in this part of the world and was unusual in that “its navel is located on its back.” In truth, the scent gland and not the navel is located on its back, a bit above the tail. While a skunk emits scent only as a means of defense, the javelina seems to have an on-going problem with body odor.

I had not wished to appear threatening to any of the indigenous wildlife but my first coffee time on the patio at six a. m., struck terror into the heart of a raven. Or perhaps it was indignation. He had perched on the top of a utility pole, evidently his chosen site for over view of the cafeteria possibilities on the desert floor. For a season no human had infringed on his territory. Now a diminutive white haired creature in flapping ivory colored pajamas was intruding.

After lengthy and nervous inspection of the interloper, he flew off. By the time I’d reached my second cup of coffee, he’d returned with his mate. When I reported the ravens’ apparent concern to a ranger later in the day, I learned that the staff referred to the pair as “Rodney” and “RacqeL” After a few days of morning inspections, the duo accepted my presence and we shared morning meals harmoniously in what I now thought of as “our” territory.

The raven family proved not to be as gracious toward picnickers in front of the visitors’ center. Closing time was five o’clock in the afternoon and it was evident to me that the ravens were operating on an efficient inner clock, as they would do a discreet fly-by at four, assessing the dinner possibilities. Returning to a near by cottonwood tree, they’d supervise each mouthful of hamburger as it disappeared down human gullets. Four thirty would elicit another fly-over, this time at a lower altitude and with a touch of menace. From then on until five, they stomped around the picnic area looking for all the world like impatient diners at your local restaurant. Five o’clock came and all patience was exhausted. The ravens would hop about on the picnic table gobbling up the scraps before picnickers could get their utensils packed into hampers. Perhaps pepperoni and pasta salads are interesting additions to the desert menu.

THE ONLY WOUND I received during that stint was from the assassin bug. This insect looks a bit like a cockroach with a long neck. (Having lived in Manhattan apartments for many years, I have an intimate knowledge of cockroaches in all their variations.)

The assassin attacked in the night, as is his habit. They do like to approach the human head, biting in the hair or near the mouth… hence the sobriquet, “kissing bug.”Having read up on desert wildlife, I knew that the initial bite was not painful. The bite produces a blister and only when the blister is broken does the victim suspect foul play. The fluid within the blister has the effect of a weak acid.

I wakened to find my head damp and burning. My first kissing bug! Not serious unless one is allergic. Like many other insect bites, they give no indication of trouble for about twenty minutes. Checked my watch, made coffee, estimated how long it would take to get help if I began to exhibit symptoms. No reaction except for the burning sensation. “And so, “as Mr. Pepys might have said, “to bed.” A single bite is a mere annoyance but if one were kissed by several, it could be a painful experience.

As spring arrived and the desert came to life, so too did the scorpions. My first encounter was in the bathroom. As I prepared to turn on the hot water tap in the tub, I found myself facing a scorpion.

“D.M.”, I called to my housemate, “if a scorpion is just sitting still in the tub, is it dead?”

Now this is plainly a call for help but my housemate recognized sheer cowardice and responded from the kitchen with only one word, “No.”

OK. Now I try for stupid. “What do I do with it?”

“Hit it with a shoe.”

\No help from that quarter and no recollection of the “Don’t kill.” dictum. I walloped it with a sturdy hiking boot.

A scorpion really looks like a shrimp walking around your house, except that the tail of the scorpion turns up in a threatening position. That’s what he’s going to get you with…that’s where the stinger is located. The sting of the standard run of the mill scorpion is not as likely to produce pain and poisoning as that of the little bark scorpion. This devious rascal is given to lurking at the back of dark shelves or underneath the piece of stove wood you’ve picked up without first examining the area.

IT’S WISE ALSO TO SHAKE OUT your shoes before slipping feet therein and it’s also a good idea to shake out all garments before putting arms, legs or other body parts into aforementioned clothes. I make it a practice to throw back all bed coverings and inspect the landscape of the sheets before entrusting my body to its nightly resting spot.

I found an odd tool on my patio. It appeared to be about the length of a golf club but had a jaw on the nether end, which could be closed by clasping a device on the handle.

“What’s that object on my patio that looks like a golf club?”

“That’s a snake snatcher.”

“Why do I want to snatch a snake?”

“In case he’s gone to sleep on your door sill, you’ll want to move him.” I doubt that seriously. I figure that any individual representative of the four varieties of rattlesnake which call Arizona home will be most thoroughly annoyed at being moved mid-nap. I made it my routine to leave by whichever door (and, thank God, I had two doors) did not have a snake guarding its portal.

A local paper carried the woeful tale of a man who owned a pet rattlesnake. Owner, in an alcohol induced haze, decided to kiss the pet rattler. This in view of Old Buddy whom he expected would be impressed with the close relationship he’d established with the rattler. Rattler took exception to the display of affection and struck…full in the mouth and tongue. (We don’t know, maybe the rattler objected to the aroma of “Jim Beam” or perhaps that just wasn’t his drink of choice.

Stunned at the rejection by his pet, but recalling the theory that a small jolt of electricity will negate the effect of the venom, he instructed Old Buddy to run out to the pick-up truck, get the battery cables, attach one end to the battery and the other to his damaged mouth and start up the truck. He had to go to the hospital anyway.

I know nothing of the efficacy of this treatment, but in the event that I ever have an altercation with a reptile, I have requested a quick trip to my nearest health care provider and I do not want to stop off for treatment with battery chargers or stun guns.

TO GIVE RATTLESNAKES their due, they are normally nonagressive and will not attack unless they consider that their space has been invaded. In my judgement a boozy kiss counts as invasion of space.

The bull snake, another desert dweller, puts on a stunning performance, hissing when annoyed. A membrane at the opening of the windpipe vibrates, exaggerating the small hiss to a hoarse threatening roar. (No, you’d not believe it was a Black Angus bull giving voice, but it is a startling sound coming from a source just in inch in front of your sneakers.) The bull snake isn’t venomous and his appetite for small rodents makes him popular with farmers and ranchers.

Spring brings to the desert not only scorpions and incredible flower displays; it also brings the delightful delicate lizards. These miniature dragons are hide and seek specialists. As I walked the trails, I’d watch the lizard move from the shelter of the teddy bear cholla to the protection of a prickly per cactus. Just once I wanted to hold the darting creature in my hands. Now and then they’d be motionless mid-trail, but at the slightest movement from me, there’d be a bare spot where late I saw a lizard.

Handsomest of the lizard family is the Gila monster. Like the tarantula and rattlesnake, he is not aggressive but if threatened will attack. Indiscriminate playing about with this fellow can bring painful and serious consequences.

A visitor enraged the staff when he was found throwing rocks at a dignified Gila monster making his way slowly and thoughtfully from burrow to outside world, bent on nothing more vicious that seeking out a late lunch.

The visitor defended his action by saying, “I was only throwing stuff at the thing so my wife could see it run.” Excuse unacceptable.

A summer spent in the North woods of Wisconsin brought no new creatures into my life as I am a mid-westerner, though it did afford an opportunity to see some old friends at close range. There was a resident great blue heron who hung out at the foot of our dock in the Elk River and spent his mornings fishing for breakfast. I often took my own breakfast to the dock to share the morning with him and to appreciate his infinite patience.

ONE RATHER COOL DAY I chose to sit inside by the window and was astonished to discover that the light from the window was suddenly extinguished. The lower half of the window was completely covered by the outspread wings of a great blue who was clinging frantically to the narrow windowsill. Looking out the other window, I saw our resident heron stalking this interloper and he was bent on violence. The visitor, caught between an irate peer and a small though questionable example of some alien species, took off with great flapping, never to trespass again.

Those mornings on the dock were sometimes shared by river otters scooting enthusiastically down the bank and into the river. A smaller face peeked at me through the marsh grass one evening and I realized it was a juvenile of some sort. Furry pint-sized guy was as curious as I was so he slipped closer and I knew him to be a baby mink. Mom showed up quickly and supervised the encounter. Baby kept circling me, never closer than four feet but never farther from me than six feet. He hung around till Mom called dinner hour.

Little black bears are not unknown in Eastern Ohio, as young males will often wander over the line from Pennsylvania in search of a suitable mate. The days on the Elk gave me my first chance to watch the fishing prowess of a hungry young bear. My favorite spot on the river was only fifty feet from his fish supply, making it possible for me to observe his skill.

The true gift was the sight of three golden eagles on a dead pine tree snag across the river. At first glance I had believed them to be young bald eagles…too young to have the distinctive white head feathers of an adult. A closer look through glasses convinced me that they were my first golden eagles as the golden head feathers gleamed in the sunlight.

THERE WAS ALSO THE CASE of the Phantom Beaver of the North Woods although I never actually laid eyes on him. The radio and newspaper reports carried the story of a truck driver who had been losing gasoline for miles and had finally pulled into a truck stop miles south of the first spill. His explanation was that he had “run over a great big beaver.” This monstrous beaver had put a hole in the bottom of his gas tank. Sure.

Let’s think about this. I have never actually looked at the bottom of a tanker truck from the vantage point of the road so I’m not sure of the actual clearance. However, given that the largest Wisconsin beaver probably won’t be heavier than fifty pounds and has relatively short legs, I find it a stretch of the imagination to believe that the gas tank was ruptured by a beaver collision.

Of course there is the ancestor of the present day beaver which, if fossil remains do not mislead us, weighed nearly four hundred pounds. We can be sure our trucker didn’t meet him. I drove to the site of the supposed disaster and found no remnant of bone or pelt… no blood.

The Upper Peninsula of Michigan brought me into closer contact with the bear clan. I left my cabin one early dawn and skidded on what I thought to be a rotten apple. Looking more closely, I realized that the apple had gone through the digestive system of a large quadruped. Likely to be a bear. Not to worry, too late in the season for small cubs to need protection so Mom probably wouldn’t be in an irascible mood. Besides, I have better sense than to get between Mom and the kids.

If bear lore is correct, I’m in no danger from the “unexplained bear attack” as old wives’ tales suggest that women who are menstruating have been injured or killed by bear. I’ve been safe from that peril for rather a long time. We had glimpsed the bear helping herself to apples from time to time.

Sandhill cranes had a parade ground near my cabin where they were assembling for the trip south. The rattling and trumpeting cries provided a convincing wake-up call every morning. Sleepers a full mile away must have been roused as well.

Now the barrier islands of the Southeast…there is where my heart lies. Never mind the ticks. I know they’re a nuisance and a threat to health but the islands are so enchanting that I don’t mind the regular night time pre-shower tick check.

TICK SPECIALISTS TELL me that nudists suffer the least from tick attacks. Why? Because there are fewer places to hide. Ticks like the warm coziness under bra straps, panty edges. Musing over this, I realize that the nudists do run risks because the ticks are also fond of the hairy places of the body. So I follow the standard protective measures…long sleeves… long pants tucked into boots…cap…and the protective spray as well. The ticks don’t loiter at the beach which gives the rest of us a break.

The nicest snake I’ve met lives on my island. He’s the hog-nosed snake. His snout is turned up like that of a young pig. The production put on by this reptile is impressive. If molested, he’s capable of puffing up his head and the upper part of his body and hissing. The enemy who doesn’t get the message may find that the snake will now strike. The mouth is usually closed during the strike, not that it matters, as he isn’t venomous.

Enemy unconvinced? Hog nose now flops down, rolls around, open mouthed. “I’m dying…I’m dying…I can’t hurt you,” is the message. After a death scene that Sarah Bernhardt would have envied, he now stretches out on his back dead…dead…dead. Try to call his bluff and pick him up and he’ll do the death scene all over again. That’s my kind of snake. One liked to pop into our library at the refuge. Removed and left under the autumn olive tree, he’d rest a while and then return to the library to further his education.

Just before the refuge closed to the public one evening, a biologist trucked in a seal from the beach. There wasn’t a mark on him but he’d been found in the sand in evident exhaustion. Frequently we’d find dead seals and dolphins with propeller marks on them or entrapped in nets. The biologist was unable to identify the species but said that the creature was too weak to be returned to the water. Decision to keep him over night. I volunteered my bathtub but was reminded that my length… not quite five feet…was somewhat less than the seal’s. He spent the night in the boathouse barking if a human came near.

In the morning he was trucked and ferried to a re-hab facility. The following day a technician from the first aid for sea critters center placed a call to let us know that he was “up and eating on his own” after a few hours of intravenous feeding. The specialists there reported that he was a hooded seal and his neighborhood was Greenland. He should not have been south of Nova Scotia.

Anybody’s guess as to how he got so far from home. Perhaps, as a young male, he had been driven from the pod by the older males. As he wandered he could have been caught in a storm. The nor’easter that hit our shore had probably buffeted him about and tossed him up on our beach. What happened to him? I didn’t check but I have to hope that a fishing vessel headed north might have let him stow away until they got to colder waters. Sometimes it’s better not to ask.

IT WAS A STORM that brought us a European visitor. This was a European Little Egret. He should have crossed the Mediterranean from Africa en route to a nesting site in southern France. My theory is that he made a left at the intersection instead of a right. As none of us was there, we really don’t know. We do know that he arrived on our shores bedraggled and weak after the storm. The news hit the birders’ hot line. (Yes, they really had a hot line prior to the Internet. I’d like to think that the answering machine had been scarlet tanager scarlet or goldfinch yellow, but I never saw it.)

I do know that we had calls from all over the country to confirm the presence of our immigrant. I personally took calls from Florida, California, Michigan and Wisconsin. Each birder, eager to add this egret to his or her life time list was prepared to board the first plane leaving the local airport and come to our site to view the exotic visitor. Some callers wanted to be assured that he would be present when they arrived. As the creature is winged and has perfectly usable legs, one can’t make guarantees.

After days of egret mania, one of the staff and I suggested that we kidnap a snowy egret who resembles the ELE closely, and make a few alterations in appearance. We might add a bit of blue eye shadow on the lores of the snowy, add a much longer plume to the back of the head as the ELE had a spectacular set of feathers there at breeding time. Then, we announced, we could secure the impersonator out in the pool so that every visitor would be assured of a sighting. Our whimsy was overlooked.

I had a notion that we might convince an international airline to return him to his native shore. Great publicity for the airline but nobody picked up the idea.

The ELE was remarkably cooperative and stayed in the same fresh water pool all summer. “Waitin’ at the church” and not even one of his species closer than the Riviera. Never even picked up a casual date with a snowy egret although I, a matchmaker at heart, kept muttering that with a bag over the head of the snowy, neither of them would have known the difference. Reluctantly, I did admit that even if we achieved an inter-egret offspring, it would have been sterile and the breeding would have been for naught. But at least he wouldn’t have been lonely.

WE WERE CONCERNED as winter approached. Obviously the ELE couldn’t survive our cool season. Snowys left for Florida and still the ELE was in our pool. I returned to the Midwest but was heartened to learn that he did leave with the last of the snowy egrets. The next summer there were reports from the beaches to our north that he had returned. I suspect that this was wishful thinking.

Ponies probably don’t qualify as “small wildlife” but the first wild pony foal of the season was born behind my house…the house of the former lighthouse keeper. A winsome, wobbly legged buckskin colt. Great temptation to smuggle him into the back seat of my car so we could escape together. No, no… now that I’m a “professional vagabond,” I don’t have pets. I just enjoy the wild creatures and share the wild places with them.

The smallest of the small wildlife I encountered was on a darkened beach in springtime. Dinoflagellates were rampant! These one-celled creatures produce a cool green light when disturbed. The phosphorescence of the sea. Great rollers came in edged with Fourth of July sparklers. Eerie and lovely. I walked in the sand and looked behind me to see my own footprints glow briefly with an ethereal light. A hand drawn leisurely through the sand left incandescent lines of delicate green.

“Why do they light up?” I asked the biologist. “They’re afraid of the dark,” he said. As mentioned before, sometimes it’s better not to ask.

“E. T.” came to visit. Really he was a red-bellied turtle someone found in the midst of traffic on the island to our west. Good Samaritan brought him over so he wouldn’t be crushed by civilization. We let him loose in the office to wait for a ranger from the national seashore to get off duty and come over to pick him up. We suspect he may have been a pet because he spent most of the afternoon walking from desk to desk, staring at the staff members. He bore a startling resemblance to in the extra-terrestrial of movie fame. He gazed so thoughtfully at the telephones that we expected him to announce at any moment that he wanted to “call home.”

NO SUITOR FOR THE LOVE of a female can be more reckless or dedicated than the woodcock. Not prepossessing in a appearance this small bird has courting rituals that demand respect and admiration. I had heard his pre-flight comments often. He mumbles “peent…peent,” to get his lady’s attention. Oddly enough I never saw the female in the vicinity. Does she hide modestly in the undergrowth?

Although she wasn’t in evidence, I thought his ceremony deserved at least one captivated on-looker so I stayed quietly in attendance. While he emits his plaintive “peent” he walks around on the bare ground. Poor little guy, his legs are so short we probably wouldn’t notice him if he were walking in the grass. His beak is over long for his pudgy body and he’s really rather popeyed.

After he had my attention with the marching about and peenting, he few upward into the night sky. In pale moonlight it was difficult to follow his flight but he seemed to be flying skyward in a spiral, all the while making soft twittering sounds. How high does he go? Out of sight of this observer.

When he reached the peak of his flight I could hear only the sort muted whispers of a call and then when he must have been breathless with the effort, he flung himself earthward. Back in my view he came tumbling, recklessly and all the while making hushed whispering love calls. Heart in mouth, I was certain that he’d be unable to level off, that he would plunge his lovelorn impetuous body directly into the unforgiving earth. Just at the last possible moment, he leveled off and sank to the ground. Brave small soul, and so in love! The object of all this lovemaking^never appeared. I hope she was impressed, I certainly was.

He repeated his celebration of love several more times that evening. I’m told he may do it again in the early hours of the dawn. What does it take to convince a girl?

The highlight of my first season on the island was to be the squirrel census. Romantic setting… moonlight…sea mists tangled in the banches of the loblolly pines…sounds of surf as the Atlantic piles up against our barrier island. It couldn’t be a better night to fulfill my small dream. The Great Squirrel Census.

The Delmarva Peninsula fox squirrels are large members of the squirrel family weighing up to three pounds and nose to tip of tail, sometimes reaching thirty inches in length. They have rounder heads, shorter ears and neck than your average back yard squirrel from Ohio. In general, a sweeter look. Soft grey backs and silver on the underside. They are seriously endangered, now living only in Maryland and Virginia.

WE ARE GOING TO SNEAK UP on these guys while they’re asleep, weigh them, sex them, count the number of family members at home and take blood samples. Vital information as our residents are probably all of one gene pool and an illness could wipe out the entire population.

Six nests and nobody home. Night warm, we think everybody may still be out socializing. At nest seven, I realize that my legs have turned into cooked spaghetti. I’m breathing with difficulty. Cold sweat is soaking my shirt. I’m trembling. It dawns on me that I am an old party and I’m probably dying of a heart attack. There’s no chance to say good bye to my kids, my lover. I’m going to die out here on a sand dune in a maritime forest.

I tell the group leader that I can’t continue Pride prevents me from actually voicing the lines in my mind…lines from old desert adventure movies. “Leave me here…save yourselves…tell them I died bravely.”

Leader suggests I take the truck back to headquarters and the rest of the team can walk back. I can’t see to drive what with the sweat pouring into my eyes and besides I’m shaking too badly to steer.

The biologist offers to take me home. This person is four foot six but I have to admit she’s a game kid. She drives through the night standing up although she swore in the days to follow that her bottom was actually on the seat. I know better.

Raccoons, ‘possums, wild ponies, sikas, skunks, red foxes, every island dweller darted in front of the truck, intent on suicide. The mist closed in, difficult to tell where road ends and sea begins but I don’t care. I’m dying anyway.

Twenty-four hours later I wake up in my bed where once the lighthouse keeper’s wife slept and I’m fine. Now I remember that one of my housemates had suffered a particularly nasty virus. His parting gift before leaving for Vermont had obviously been his own special brand of virus.

The tragedy is that never did I get to have in my hands an infant DPFS (Delmarva Peninsula fox squirrel) nor did I get to count even one of our thriving population.

By Robert Boswell and Rebecca Carro

Just imagine what a shock it would be to be preparing your home for the arrival of new babies, then have your house hit by a big wind storm, causing it to sink a few feet.

That’s what happened to the two bald eagles that became stars, seen by thousands, on the eagle cam at the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge last summer. The Refuge includes more than 14,000 acres of beach, dunes, marsh and maritime forest located on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.

Barry Brookshire holds a section of a limb from a Loblolly pine that was damaged in tropical storm Ernesto
After returning to their nest, high in the Loblolly pines on the Wildlife Loop, in early December, the pair began touching up the nest in time for new eggs to be laid in late January. But soon the nest needed more than a touchup.

The high winds that blew so hard across the Eastern Shore on December 31 knocked the nest off its supporting branches, causing it to drop several feet. Barry Brookshire, a roving park ranger, said he went to check on the nest by looking at it on the TV screen in the refuge information center and noticed it didn’t look right. “I said, Ho, what happened here?”

Checking with another staff member, he learned the nest had indeed been damaged. “Some staff members were afraid we would lose the whole nest,” said Michael Dixon, refuge visitor services manager. “We were happy the camera was still in focus. We could not have sent a tree climber back up because it would have disturbed the eagles.”

But if the eagles were surprised or upset, they didn’t show it. They went right back to work. By Monday, four days after the wind damage, you could see where the eagles had brought in two large foundation sticks, and then placed additional foundation on the existing nest, said Mr. Dixon. “It was rebuilt within a week, faster than we expected,” he said. But the work continues.

On Saturday, December 10, the eagles were still adding sticks, twigs and pine needles to their nest. The eagles took their time, but worked steadily, carefully placing each piece of material. It was all being done in clear sight of visitors to the information center, thanks to the technology of the camera, powered by a solar panel. Mr. Dixon said he hopes people will come to see this reconstruction going on this week and become interested enough to follow along as the eggs are laid, sat on and then hatched. The Refuge itself is open 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. and the visitor center from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m.

The eagles last year laid three eggs, the first on January 25, followed by a second two days later and the third January 31. The parents took turns sitting on the nest and then on March 2, the first eaglet used his “egg tooth,” a point at the top, to break through the shell. The eggs hatched in the same order they were laid, the third by March 11. As each event occurred, word would spread around the Michael Dickson information center and staff members and visitors would gather to watch.
The third eaglet to hatch was quite weak and only lived a couple of days. Of the other two, the first born was much stronger. A bad storm most likely got the second one. Because parents tend to eat their dead young ones, the camera was turned off for a few days. The surviving eaglet left in early summer. The adults leave soon after until they return for the next mating season.

The nest when rebuilt could be as large as 6 to 8 feet across, 12 feet deep and weigh over 1,000 pounds. The eggs appear to be laid on top, but are actually in a small cavity.

“With the camera on the nest, the public can witness the drama that occurs,” said Mr. Dixon. Visitors can see the struggle for life, one larger, one smaller both trying to get fed. You can clearly see that.”

The TV screen is located right next to a replica of a massive eagle’s nest which is part of an entire exhibit dedicated to the bald eagle, the national symbol. This is one of only two or three eagle nests on the Chincoteague refuge. There have been eagles seen flying in and out of the pines on Woodland Trail. A study in 2001 found 20 active nests on the Eastern ShoreVisitors who travel the Wildlife Loop, which opens to vehicles daily at 3 p.m., can possibly see the eagles, from a distance, flying in and out of the nest area. “Eagles are territorial,” explained Mr. Brookshire. “They will drive away other eagles and I saw one chasing an osprey.” The loop is open to hikers and bike riders during all the hours the Refuge is open.

There isn’t much about the eagles that Mr. Brookshire doesn’t know. A native of Texas, he came to Assateague 18 months ago after teaching world geography and earth science at the Navaho Indian Reservation in northern Arizona. “I was tired of teaching and I saw an ad for a park ranger at the Chincoteague Refuge. It was something I always wanted to do and I remembered Chincoteague from reading ‘Misty’ to my daughter years ago.”

But Mr. Brookshire has not escaped teaching all together. He just has a large, outdoor classroom now. As a roving ranger he gets to answer questions, spending most of his time on the Wildlife Loop and the Woodland Trail. “In September,” he said, “I saw two eagles eating an egret.” As people stopped to look, he was also able to show them a Peregrine falcon nearby, then a Caspian tern and a variety of other birds, all in one little area.”

Mr. Dixon has his own font of knowledge about eagles and, it seems, everything else on the Refuge. Originally from Louisiana, he came here from the Eastern Massachusetts National Wildlife Refuge Complex where he was also visitor services manager.

Mr. Brookshire said 30 percent of all the eagles in North American live in Alaska. Mr. Dixon said, “I have seen 300 eagles at a time, but only when they are feeding,” he said. This was in the Midwest, along the Mississippi River.

Mr. Brookshire described the two Assateague TV stars as resident eagles. “They don’t migrate. As long as they have plenty of food, they will stay here.” There is plenty of food on the Refuge. The eagles here mainly eat fish they catch in the marsh behind the beach, near Toms Cove. But they also eat egrets, ducks, rodents and snakes. They will also drive other predators away from a kill and take over that meal.

Mr. Dixon said when the young leave the nest, the parents do also. “They stay in their territory, but abandon the nest until next mating season, when they will start work on the nest again.”

Mr. Brookshire said when they do migrate, they catch a thermal, a vertical wind caused by temperature change, and don’t have to flap their wings much to soar to great distances. He said eagles mate for life but if one dies the one living will find another mate. In the wild an eagle can live for 30 years. They get their white tail feathers in their 4th or 5th year when they mature. Mr. Brookshire said once a pair of eagles moves into a nest they come back year after year. Whether the eaglet survivor from last year will come back is unknown. “It could come back, but some don’t,” said Mr. Brookshire.
Another nest was damaged in 2001 by hurricane Ernesto, also knocking out the camera. That camera is still attached to a section of a branch and kept at the information center.

By 1963 pesticides had taken their toll. A U.S. population of 100,000 had dropped to about 850 eagles. After President John F. Kennedy wrote to the Audubon Society, the eagle was placed on the Endangered Species list in 1978. The Chincoteague Refuge was selected as one of the recovery sites. In 1994 the status was changed from endangered to threatened.

Visitors to the Refuge should report to the Herbert H. Bateman Educational Center for directions on seeing the eagles, both on the live camera and perhaps the eagles flying in and out of the actual nest.
The writers are publishers of www.wildponytales.info, an online magazine covering the wildlife, ponies and people of Chincoteague and Assateague, Virginia.

‘You Could Tell, Love was in the Air’

There was good reason why the pair of eagles on the live camera at the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge was working to repair their nest following the December 31 wind storm. It was time to expand their family.

The repairs were made just in time. The first egg appeared in the nest January 18, then another three days later.

Barry Brookshire, a roving ranger for the refuge, said it isn’t hard to tell when mating season arrives. He said he had seen the eagles flying around together. “So you know love is in the air.”

In one of the two, possibly three, nests on the refuge, the eagles hatched three eggs last year but only one survived. This year the eagles had begun work patching up the nest in early December but the heavy wind that blew limbs and trash cans all over the place the last day of December also damaged the live cam nest, causing it to drop about a foot and a half from its perch high in the Loblolly pines just off the Wildlife Loop.

It took patience to get photos of the eggs this past weekend. The female sat on the eggs for a long time, changing her position, once in a while. Suddenly the male flew in and they both sat alongside the eggs long enough for this photo to be taken. Visitors to the center, some who came after reading about the rebuilding eagles in the Chincoteague Beacon and Eastern Shore News, tried to take their own photographs.

Onlookers could tell the latest construction from the green color of pine needles that had just been added. Due to circumstances this nest is fairly small but they can be built 6 to 8 feet across, 12 feet deep and weigh over 1,000 pounds. The eggs appear to be laid on top, but are usually in a small cavity.

After spending some time together the female eagle flew off, no doubt going to get something to eat. The remaining eagle then took over sitting duties.

Brookshire described the two Assateague TV stars as resident eagles. “They don’t migrate. As long as they have plenty of food, they will stay here.” There is plenty of food on the refuge. The eagles here mainly eat fish they get in the marsh behind the beach, near Toms Cove. But they also eat egrets, ducks, rodents, and snakes. They will also drive other predators away from a kill and take over that meal.

Eaglets Break Through Shells for First Feeding

By Leslie Adkins

Early morning visitors to the Bateman Educational Center at the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge got to see a rare sight Saturday.

Looking down at the eagle’s nest shown on a live camera mounted high in the tall pines off the Wildlife Loop, they could see a newly hatched eaglets hold up their beaks, as their mom tends to the feeding while waiting for her third egg to hatch tiny eaglet emerge from his shell and soon after take his first meal from the beak of one of his parents. The new eagle’s brother, or perhaps sister, had broken out of his shell just two days earlier and both of them, no longer than the third egg in the nest due to hatch any day now, pointed their beaks upward, competing for a serving of regurgitated fish, or was it duck?

It is unlikely all three eaglets will survive. It is just as unlikely they have made it this far.

The parents returned to the nest in early December to make the usual repairs in time for the latest additions to their family. Building and maintaining a nest, according to the eagle experts at the refuge, is an on-going task for “resident” adults who return to the same nest year after year. But then came the high winds of December 31, that blew everything around on the Eastern Shore. The nest dropped about a foot and a half from its perch in the branches of the Loblolly pine. It did not drop any further, the camera remained in focus, and the first egg was laid January 18.

As this writer was setting up her tripod Saturday, one eagle was sitting on the nest, no eggs or eaglets showing. He sat boldly, warming his young despite the blowing winds, carefully observing its surroundings. He picked at one branch that apparently had gotten in the way, moving it over a little. After a few moments, its mate swooped in to the view of the camera. At this point, the male eagle who had been watching the nest, swooped out of sight, no doubt off on a short hunting trip.
Then, along with visitors who had stopped by, we could see these eagle chicks getting one of their first meals. The female took the meat and ripped it off into small pieces, chewed, then regurgitating, carefully feeding both of its young. Some viewers grew concerned because it seemed only the first hatched was getting fed. This private moment of the eagle’s got murmurs from the watching visitors, everyone appreciating the technology of the live camera that was fed by a cable running a half mile down the pine and across the woodland. The camera gets its power from a solar panel.

While they were being fed, you could see both of the small chicks, both moving, their little heads bobbing, their eyes still closed, as they went beak to beak with their mom.

After their feeding, which lasted for about 10 minutes, the mother sat on the chicks again. She carefully nudged them under her belly to keep them warm, all the while keeping a sharp eye on her surroundings.” There is plenty of food on the refuge. The eagles here mainly eat fish they get in the marsh behind the beach, near Toms Cove. But they also eat egrets, ducks, rodents, and snakes. They will also drive other predators away from a kill and take over that meal, according to ranger Barry Brookshire.
The camera is located in the Bateman Educational Center, just beyond the entrance gate. The viewing area around the camera is filled with eagle information and includes an actual nest about 12 feet across. There is also a notebook filled with some brief eagle facts, and photos. “We want to encourage eagle watchers to peruse the information while observing eagle activity,” said Michael Dixon, visitor services manager. “We’ve even provided a community journal for those who like to blog the old fashioned way. In this journal, visitors may write or draw about their own eagle watching experience; or read about the feelings and expressions of others,” said Dixon
Editor’s note: The second eagle hatchling was found dead in the nest Monday morning. Wildlife officials were doubtful the third egg would hatch.

The camera is located in the Bateman educational center. The refuge itself is open from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. The visitor center is open from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Telephone: 757 336-6122

The writer is co-editor of a website about Chincoteague and Assateague, www.wildponytales.info.