Native, Invasive: Wildlife Wednesday, April 2019

Looking out the kitchen window recently, I noticed that my little female cat, Astrud, was staring intently at something.  I assumed that what she was concerned about was the neighbor’s big tom cat who, at times, sneaks into my garden, so I went outdoors to shoo him away.  Well, it wasn’t the neighbor’s tom cat that Astrud communed with, but instead, this juvenile Virginia OpossumDedelphis virginiana.

The two of them engaged in a relaxed standoff, neither seemingly fussed about one another’s presence.  I sat down about 10 feet away to observe; Astrud casually glanced at me, while the opossum snuffled and sniffed.  Opossums have poor eyesight, but a refined sense of smell and I’m sure he/she was assessing the situation with the nose.  Within a couple of minutes, Astrud lost interest in the opossum, trotting away to investigate something new and different.  The opossum, on cue, bundled under a gate, waddling off to unknown places.

Am I staring at you or are you staring at me?

It was a cute encounter and fascinating to observe.

I take a benign view of opossums.  They amble through my garden during the night, sometimes I see them early in the morning. When I dump the day’s veggie remains in the compost (usually after dark and I always forget to bring a flashlight), I jump when I realize there’s a marsupial munching on a meal.  I fret when one moves into the owl house, but otherwise, I consider opossums as part of the garden and local environment.  Opossums bother no one and eat a variety of foods, which, upon expulsion of the seeds, helps the spread of native plants.  They sometime eat rats and mice and I’m all for that.

I’ve come across people who are creeped-out by opossums.   I think their squeamishness results from wariness about opossum behavior.  Opossums are shy and mostly active at night. They’re secretive, skulking, and mostly unseen; nighttime activity is intrinsically uncomfortable for some folks.  Opossums also have that bare tail and lots of pointy teeth, and they’ll hiss to be scary if cornered, though generally, they’re not aggressive critters.  And–let’s be honest here–in the looks department, they’re not pretty.  They’re certainly not as pretty as the average cat; Astrud would win a beauty contest, hands-down.  But why do most people favor their cute kitties, who are outdoor, invasive killing machines, over a less-than-gorgeous native critter, one who has a place in the ecosystem, who evolved here and belongs here?  Opossums are some of the oldest mammals inhabiting North America.

I wouldn’t dream of installing an invasive plant in my garden–not for a minute–and I have tut-tutted when others, who, usually in ignorance or in response to poor advice, planted something that is invasive.  I’m always (okay, usually) polite in correcting information about native plants versus invasive plants, employing a teachable moment policyUsing well-adapted non-natives in the garden?  Sure, I have plenty of those and encourage others to use them, but I’m careful not to promote or utilize recognized invasives in my garden and encourage others to go native or use non-invasive, non-natives.

However, my go native self-righteousness doesn’t apparently extend to preventing my cats from roaming the garden.  I allow my cats (I have two) outdoors, and they’re not a native species to North America, though there’s certainly a good argument that they’re well-adapted.

Astrud is primarily an indoor cat.  She ventures into the back garden for brief visits:  she loves to go out first thing in the morning for a few minutes, and then again near sundown for an hour or so.  My other cat, Nuri, is a true indoor/outdoor cat, though is spending more time indoors as he ages and since he was diagnosed with heart disease.  Originally, I’d planned to keep Nuri indoors only, but that one time that I let him out, well, he decided outdoors was a great place to be a cat.  Of course all cats, mine included, might catch birds, but until the past few years I wasn’t aware of just how much damage outdoor domestic cats inflict on native birds.  Using information from 2013, it’s estimated that the “free-ranging” domestic cat population kill 1.3-4 billion birds each year in the US.

That’s a lot of birds.  As well, these same cats kill a variety of  small mammals and other wildlife.

So why let them out at all if I’m so concerned about preserving native habitat in my urban environment?  Why the inconsistency? I guess it comes down to the oh-so-human practice of hypocrisy–and like most humans, I am a practitioner thereof.

Wild things have many obstacles to their survival: loss of habitat, agricultural and home garden chemical use, increasing urbanization…and domestic cats.  My cats have hunted and killed native wildlife in my garden; fortunately, only a few have fallen to their skills.  Still, some small snakes, lizards, and yes–birds have been killed by my pets and I’m ashamed that I allowed them outside to inflict harm to endemic species.  That said,  as I’ve learned more about our native fauna, I’ve worked hard to provide a safe haven for wildlife in my garden and my cats are only out when I’m home and can keep my eyes on their actions.

What to do?  Well, the best thing is to keep cats indoors.  They’ll live longer and wildlife will be safer.  Going forward, any cat I adopt will be an indoor cat, but my two are older and daily habits are tough to break. Astrud is basically an indoor cat, with a few minutes outside most days.  With Nuri, it’s more complicated, because he’s always been indoor/outdoor fella and it’s hard to teach an old cat new tricks–or something to that effect.

I limit the cats’ outside time–especially during spring and autumn bird migration, and when the resident baby birds fledge–to early nighttime and when I’m in the garden supervising their feline affairs.  Most of the time, both cats wear a BirdsBeSafe collar, which is made by good folks to help birds be safe from cats.   Doesn’t Nuri look handsome in his BirdsBeSafe collar?  And his bird companions don’t seem to mind him at all!

The theory behind the collar is that it’s not a bell on a collar (ahem–the dinner bell) which will protect a bird from a stalking cat, but the bright colors on the collar, which (specifically) song birds discern.   Cats are good predators in part because their coloring serves as camouflage and they move stealthily, so that a bell probably won’t sound in time for a bird to escape.  But with the BirdsBeSafe collar, songbirds are alerted by movement and bright colors, and will fly to safety.

For more information on this collar, check out this 2015 article from Science Direct about the effectiveness of the BirdsBeSafe collar.

While birds might be safer with a cat wearing the collar, the collar won’t help butterflies or amphibians from becoming victims.  The collar on the cats is only a partial solution to allowing my purry invasives out in the garden, but for now, it works: my fuzzy-butts have some outdoor time (with supervision) and wildlife is generally safe in my garden.

What wild critters are in your garden? Do you have workaround to make your garden safe for wildlife, while allowing pets some outdoor time?  Please leave your link when you comment here and happy wildlife gardening!

Good Morning, Sunshine

Golden groundsel, Packera obovata,  is a yellow-flowered perennial.

Its blooms are not orange-yellow, nor are they yellow-green.

Golden groundsel flowers are yellow.

There’s no ambiguity or ambivalence with these blooms: they are yellow, yellow, yellow.

One of the earliest of the spring bloomers here in the Austin area, this perennial pretty delivers a dab of sunshine to shady spots, and for the remainder of the year, carpets those same shady spots as a hardy ground cover.

I like the foliage.  The base foliage–the leaves that you see for 10 months of the year–are composed of oval, serrated-edged leaves which form a dense mat along the ground.  In late January, early February, the plant sends up slender stems along which grow more deeply lobed leaves.    In essence, the plant produces two styles of foliage.

It’s a plant with a two-for-one set of leaves!

As groundsel gears up for its spring show,  the slender flower stems develop clusters of buds which eventually open with radiant yellow blooms.  Viewing these beauties first thing in the morning is as good a wake-up as any strong cup of coffee.  In a garden or along a trail, you can’t miss these shards of sunshine–they demand attention.  Even before my own little patch of groundsel flowered-up, I’d spied a number of groundsels blooming along some urban trails where I hike.

These flowers are not shy and will not be ignored.

While Golden groundsel isn’t host to any particular insect, the flowers are good nectar sources for native bees and butterflies.  Somehow, I didn’t get any photos of the pollinators on my groundsel blooms, though I observed some tiny native Perdita bees.  In early March, I spotted this hairstreak on a groundsel flower at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center.

On a petal of the flower just below where  the hairstreak nectars, sits another insect. Bee, beetle, or bug, I can’t discern.

The patch of groundsel was growing in full sun and bloomed much earlier than mine.  On that early March day, the blooms appeared to be nearing the end of their cycle.

Just this week, some of my groundsel flowers have begun to seed out.

Snowy, fuzzy seedheads, clearly designed for wind dispersal, have replaced some of the sunny flowers, and many more will follow in similar fashion.  Golden groundsels are in the Asteraceae family of plants and demonstrate the pappus structure of seed development.  The delicate, hairy attachments carry the actual seed aloft on wind, planting themselves in other places and other gardens for future groundsel goodness.

Many of the native Texas plants that I grow seed out prolifically, but not the Golden groundsel.  Even though I allow mine to seed out, I’ve never found any groundsel seedlings in other parts of my garden.  What I have noticed is that my patch is leaning toward its neighbor, a group of iris, as the groundcover part of the plant is steadily creeping into their space.

Or perhaps, it’s the iris which are marching toward the groundsel.  Either way, I plan to expand the range of my groundsel. The groundsel leaves, presumably with roots attached, are outgrowing the original area that I devoted to it.  In late summer or early fall–once we’re out of our tough Texas summer–I’ll remove several of the abutting iris to make room for the groundsel plants.  I love my iris and they bloom for a longer time, but I have plenty of iris in my garden and not nearly enough Golden groundsel.  By transplanting a few more groundsel plants, I’ll welcome to more in my garden.

Native to Central Texas, Golden groundsel enjoys a wide distribution throughout North America.  As long as you can find seeds or plants, there’s no reason not to enjoy this lovely plant.  It’s a tough, easy-to-grow perennial with a bright disposition.

Just remember to don your sunglasses when they start blooming.

Elements

The Hub and I cleaned the pond this past weekend.  While unnecessary for the health of an aquatic environment (pond scum smell isn’t the least bit off-putting for the fish, plants, or insects), we start anew each spring with a thorough cleaning.  Occasionally, we’ve skipped the chore in favor of other demands.

Fish were removed and stored in containers for the day; water was drained into the gardens, which love the rich liquid;  lilies and bog plants were separated, then re-potted; leaves and pond-bottom gunk was scooped out, bucketed, and dumped into the compost bin.  The aquatic environment is now refreshed and renewed for a year of lush growth.

After the work–it’s a long day–I photographed the less foliage-covered, fresh watered pond.  I’m struck by what this shot shows.

Aside from the beauty and diversity that a pond (clean or otherwise) brings to a garden, what caught my imagination was representations of the traditional, though unscientific, four elements of the Western world: Earth, Air, Fire, Water.

Water:  it ripples and supports pond life. To the left of the photo, unseen, is the waterfall.  The force of the waterfall, combined with whatever breeze exits, moves the water across the pond, in gentle, incessant movement. 

Air:  the rippled water reflects the blue sky and white clouds.   In Air, but part of Earth, the overhanging trees are mirrored in the Water, bookending the clouds and sky.

Earth: limestone rocks border the pond.  These rocks are from the cemetery where our lily/our daughter, Shoshana, rests, and are as solid and permanent as our love for her.  The three pond lilies also rest–under water–which breathes life in each; rocks hug that source of life.

Fire: of a sort, in the sparkling Texas sun as its rays reach, and touch, Water.

Joining in today with Anna’s Flutter and Hum and her wonderful Wednesday Vignette.  Please pop over for garden, nature, and other musings.