Photo Essay: Spring at Noxubee NWR

Spending time in nature provides many benefits—not only physical ones, but intellectual and emotional ones, as well.  Let's take a look at one of my favorite natural places to visit: Sam D. Hamilton Noxubee National Wildlife Refuge.

It’s a warm, sunny day in late March.  Looking down from Goose Overlook, I marvel at how the surface of Bluff Lake reflects the blue skies and cottony white cumulus clouds like a mirror.

A Northern Cardinal chirps out his song from the spiky branches of a fallen cypress tree.  Breeding season is in full swing, at least for some species.

A Great Egret hunts patiently in the shallows.  Its black legs and toes are long and spindly, facilitating wading.

Splash!  Lightning-quick reflexes are a must.

On the prowl…

 “What’re you lookin’ at?”

The main food source here seems to be minnows.  This egret probably had a lot of success today. 

A crossvine (Bignonia capreolata) trails up the trunk of a tree near the boardwalk.  Note the red-and-yellow trumpet-shaped flowers and the long, unlobed leaves.

On Woodpecker Trail, which loops through a section of pine woods, a few common blue violets (Viola sororia) can be seen near the path.  Woodpecker trail is also a good place to observe endangered Red-cockaded Woodpeckers, but I don’t hear or see any today.  Pileated, Red-bellied, and Downy Woodpeckers make themselves noticed, though.  Songbirds, including Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, Carolina Chickadees, and Yellow-throated, Yellow-rumped, and Pine Warblers, sing and flit around in the lower forest canopy.

The delicate white blossoms of a flowering dogwood (Cornus florida) stand out against the subdued grays and greens of the forest behind them.

I go back to Bluff Lake, this time to the Cypress Cove Boardwalk, and observe a large American alligator basking in the sun.  Yellow-throated and Yellow-rumped Warblers are vocal here, just as they were on Woodpecker Trail.  Red-winged Blackbirds add their bugling to the mix. 

The Yellow-throated Warblers may be vocal, but they’re not necessarily easy to photograph.  One moves down to the lower branches of a cypress, but is backlit at first.

I try photographing it from another angle.  Yellow-throated Warblers are actually fairly subdued in plumage—the sunny yellow of the throat is offset by the subtle slate-gray back, white wing bars, black mask, and black streaks against white flanks.

As the sun drops lower in the sky, I take a look at a large cottonmouth sunning itself on a log at the edge of Bluff Lake.  Although I’m glad to be a safe distance from this very venomous snake, I do not begrudge it the space it inhabits here at Noxubee.  It fills a niche in the ecosystem that is no less significant than those of the more easily-appreciated things in nature—e.g., birds, flowers, and trees. 

It’s getting late.  Bird-voiced treefrogs begin calling from the cypress swamp, their whistling songs mingling with the piping ones of spring peepers.  I know that, later in the season, the spring peepers will be silent, but green treefrogs, gray treefrogs, cricket frogs, and others will fill in the chorus.  I will return soon.

Out with the Old, in with the New

Rainwater from the showers of earlier that day, March 25, spattered from the newly-emerged leaves on the neighborhood trees and flowed down the roadside drainage ditches.  Most of the low-lying yards in the neighborhood held puddles of at least an inch or two deep.  Still, it wasn’t raining now, so a couple of family members and I decided to take advantage of this lull in the drizzly weather to exercise a little.  As we walked along the roads, Brown Thrashers chattered from their secluded perches in the shrubby woodlots.  

Brown Thrasher

The thrashers had been doing this for the past month or so, actually; like their close relatives, the mockingbirds, they’re typically early nesters.  So are Eastern Bluebirds.  A couple of pairs of these birds displayed their gorgeous cobalt-blue plumage as they flitted around the open fields, probably seeking out cavities in the large oaks and sugarberry trees that might serve as nest sites. 

Eastern Bluebird on wire

As I made my way down the road, multiple Carolina Chickadees and Tufted Titmice sang loudly from the woods all around the neighborhood.  In all likelihood, the bluebirds in this area compete with these two species and a variety of other animals, including squirrels and nuthatches, for nest sites.  I’m not sure that the forests here are quite swampy enough for another small, cavity-nesting bird, the Prothonotary Warbler, but since it’s nearly time for these yellow-and-blue birds to be winging their way back to their breeding territories, I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

A brief sequence of wheezy notes sounding from deep within the cedar thicket made me stop for a moment.  Was that a Black-throated Green Warbler?  I pished loudly for a few seconds, then heard the call again.  No, it was the first few notes of a Ruby-crowned Kinglet’s song, the entire phrase sounding like Sisisisi see see see liberTY liberTY liberTY—all things considered, a boisterous song for such a tiny bird.  Although kinglets start singing during March and April in Mississippi, they breed elsewhere, migrating to Canada, the very northernmost United States, or the western U.S. to claim nesting territories.  Unlike most of the other birds I saw on the walk, the kinglets will soon be moving on.  I’m glad to have them around for a few more weeks, anyway.  That also goes for the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker that gave one squealing call from the trunk of a large sugarberry tree and then quietly slipped out of view.

Ruby-crowned Kinglet painting

Obviously, migrating birds were not the only noticeable changes in the environment.  Vegetation flourishes at this time of year, and with new plant growth and rain typically comes an increase in insect abundance.  That seemed to be the case here.  A profusion of wildflowers—spring beauty, wild garlic, henbit, Carolina anemone, and others—covered the lawns, and new, green leaves showed on branches.   

Carolina anemone

The rain had also helped to dislodge wilting blooms from many of the flowering trees and shrubs; the redbuds were no longer fuchsia-colored, and stringy, greenish blossoms from the oaks dotted the pavement.  Eastern tiger swallowtail and cloudless sulphur butterflies darted out from the woodland edges where, only a few weeks ago at most, they had emerged from chrysalides.  Unfortunately, the rain and warmer weather also bring out less pleasant insects, such as mosquitoes and gnats, but that’s just part of life as spring rolls into the Southeast. 

Winter Chorus Frogs

If you live in the southeastern U.S., you’re probably used to the discrepancy between the timing of the seasonal changes that you observe and the "official" dates on your calendar.  During the winter, temperatures often climb to the 80s; brightly-colored flowers dot the lawns; resident birds start to seek out nesting territories in the woods and fields; and snakes, turtles, and (in some areas) alligators begin to stir in lakes and ponds.  Breeding frogs, taking advantage of the rain and the warmer temperatures, also put in appearances during this period.  While many frog species in the southeastern states hibernate through the winter and are not active until March or April, a few are commonly heard calling before the trees leaf out.  If you live in Mississippi, the species that you are most likely to encounter during the winter are chorus frogs, members of the Pseudacris genus.

The spring peeper (Pseudacris crucifer) is probably the most abundant of these “winter” chorus frogs.  I would venture to say that most people in the southeast are very familiar with the piping call of this tiny amphibian, but for those who aren’t (or those who would like a refresher), the U.S. Geological Survey has a recording.  From around late January to early April in Mississippi, you might hear this distinctive call in almost any wooded habitat near water.  Spring peepers spend much of their time in dense vegetation near the ground, so they are difficult to see—beneficial for them, but a pity for us, because they have very pretty, if subtle, patterns: dark brown leg stripes and a dark-brown x-shaped marking on a lighter brown background.  The camouflaging coloration and retiring habits are useful predator-evasion adaptations.

A close relative of the spring peeper, the upland chorus frog (Pseudacris feriarum) is fairly common in winter.  Despite their name, upland chorus frogs can be found in both lowland and upland habitats.  I would suggest listening for them in areas that are more open than the typical spring peeper habitat; old pastureland, fields, and meadows near sources of water are good places to check.  The trilling call of the upland chorus frog somewhat resembles the sound made when you run your thumb over the teeth of a metal comb.  In Mississippi, I have heard this species as early as the middle of December, and it may breed until April.  Like spring peepers, upland chorus frogs are secretive and extremely hard to spot.  One of their diagnostic field marks is a pale stripe above the upper lip, just below the dark stripe that extends behind the eye.  

Upland chorus frog - mixed-media painting

It’s worth pointing out that, in recent years, the range limits of the upland chorus frog and the very similar Cajun chorus frog (Pseudacris fouquettei) have been reevaluated.  Both species are found in Mississippi, but it’s likely that the Cajun chorus frog is restricted to the western portion of the state, while the upland chorus frog occurs farther east.  The call of the Cajun chorus frog is slightly slower than that of the upland.  

Happy listening!


Sources

The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species, http://www.iucnredlist.org/
USGS Frog Quiz, https://www.pwrc.usgs.gov/frogquiz/index.cfm?fuseaction=main.lookup
Wildscreen Arkive, http://www.arkive.org/upland-chorus-frog/pseudacris-feriarum/