Rub-A-Dub-Dub

Posted on February 13, 2019 by Tina

If you follow Bee Mama Missives, you might remember this contraption from the end of 2018.

Along with the new extractor is a frame knife for breaking the comb and freeing the honey during spinning and a mesh for catching the honey prior to bottling.

Its looks are fuselage-like, but is a sweet thing: it’s our new two-frame honey extractor and in the not-too-distant future it will be recruited into action. At the top, you see the nearly, but not completely, flat cover; just below and to the right, is the handle which turns the cage holding the frames of honey. The spout at the bottom–with the poetic name honey gate–is typically closed, except after the frames full of honey have been whirled and twirled. When the handle is rotated (more about that later), the freed honey will fling to the sides and bottom of the extractor, ready to flow out in glorious, golden goo. We’ll capture the honey in a bowl, first straining it through the mesh, then bottle it for friends, neighbors and ourselves. Yippee!

As soon as our weather cooperates–this coming weekend, I hope–we’ll open our two Langstroth hives, Buzz and Woody, to see how the ladies and their queens have fared since our last meeting in mid-October. In that last 2018 hive check, both hives had plenty of honey: each had one 10-frame brood box loaded for bear (no actual bears here, just frames packed with honey), plus a smaller box on top, full of the sweet stuff.

Lots of honey, which the bees probably slurped a fair amount of during these past chilly, wet months. But until we peek in, we don’t know how much honey, if any, is left. Plus, the honeybees could be (probably are) gearing up for action with the queen laying eggs and honey production ramping up. So it’s time to prepare our extractor for the removal of whatever honey is left, which will also allow the bees more room in the comb for the next generation.

This is a small, two-frame extractor. We’re hobbyist bee keepers and don’t need anything particularly big or extravagant. It’s a manual extractor, but there are plenty of Internet videos instructing how to attach a drill to the handle, thus converting to a less manual, more automatic honey-getter.

Hope it works. No doubt there will a Bee Mama Missive post in the future if it doesn’t.

Ahem.

Like any food equipment, it’s a good idea to wash before use, so wash we did!

Flat cover removed, let’s peer into the extractor bowels and look at its innards. The flat bar across the top holds firm the mechanism for the handle which spins the basket. As well, in the center of the flat bar is affixed a spindle which spins the basket-with-frames when the handle is turned. The basket runs much of the length of the extractor body.

Insides dismantled and removed, the lid and handle are washed and left to air dry on the counter.

Bee Daddy (flashing a double thumbs-up) displays the ready-for-washing frame basket. This is where the frames are placed in the extractor to remove the honey by centrifugal force, either by arm or drill force; we’ll figure that out when the time comes.

The chasm of the extractor’s body is deep. It looks pretty and shiny, but I don’t want any honey spilling and filling into it without a nice, soapy scrub and a good, hot water rinse.

You’ve probably noticed that we’re not in the kitchen where normal food-related equipment is washed. The extractor is too big, too tall, too weird for the kitchen. So the bathroom it is and the rub-a-dub-dub commences.

Inside.

Outside.

Once washed, we let basket and drum dry on a clean towel before reassembling the extractor. It now waits, clean and at the ready, for the bees, or more accurately, their honey.

As for the honey makers, each day’s march toward spring sees increased activity as they gather pollen and nectar. It’s early days in the season, but it has begun.

And the flowers? They’re opening up for business, too.

Giant spiderwort, Tradescantia gigantea

The Crown

Posted on February 7, 2019 by Tina

Americans profess a certain pride in living without royalty. We drool and gossip about entertainment favorites, whose only claim to fame is that they’re famous, but, gosh darn it, we don’t need royalty.

But here in North America, there are some who don crowns and in a few cases they live in, or visit, our gardens–like this fella:

Taking a bath, enjoying the great outdoors.

What’s that little smudge of rust on top of your head? Maybe it needs cleaning?

It’s a crown–an Orange-crown!

The Orange-crowned Warbler, Oreothlypis celata, is a migrating bird who winters here in Central Texas. Each winter, I enjoy the charm of a few of these busy, quiet but occasionally chirping, little warblers. This winter, I’ve identified two regulars to my garden, though the female is the more frequent visitor. How can I tell the difference? It’s hard with this warbler, as both genders’ coloring is similar–a muted greenish-yellow. According to Cornell Lab and Audubon Society, there are four subspecies of Orange-crown, differing in color, size, and molting patterns. In reading the descriptions of where each type of warbler lives, I’m guessing that it’s the western Orange-crowns, the lutescens, who winter here, as the other breeds either sport more grey, drab plumage or are found only in certain areas. My Orange-crowns are yellow-green, all the time, except for the male and his unsparkly orange crown, which appears when he’s excited, irritated–or taking a bath.

Orange-crown Warblers rummage through trees and shrubs, and fluff plant detritus along the ground in search of variety of small insects, spiders, and any source of protein smaller than they are. As Automatic Gardener demonstrates on a recent post, they’ll also visit a hummingbird feeder if given an opportunity. Each fall, winter, and early spring, Orange-crowns visit at my suet feeder; this year, it’s been the female enjoying suet snacks.

We all like fat, I guess.

I see her almost daily at the suet, nipping at sunflower seeds fallen to the ground, or in the garden, working the shrubbery.

I haven’t seen the male in a while, perhaps he headed further south, or maybe he visits a different garden? Was he offended at my catching him at his bath?

Stop looking at me, lady!

Orange-crowned Warblers are early arrivals during fall migration and hang out in my garden through May. They breed in far north Canada, so they have a long way to go from my Central Texas garden to the neighborhoods where they raise their families. In late summer, after the chicks have fledged, Orange-crowns embark on the big trip southward to their wintering spots. Like other migrating birds, their seasonal treks amaze me: tiny birds who travel thousands of miles, back and forth over continents and sometimes large bodies of water, and that’s normal life for them. How can I not appreciate and admire that?

So it goes with birds.

Orange-crowned Warblers, crowned, or not, are royalty in my eyes.

Bird Feeders: Widlife Wednesday, February 2019

Posted on February 5, 2019 by Tina

This is a bird feeder.

Left, American Goldfinch (Spinus tristis); right, House Finch (Haemorhous mexicanus)

This is also a bird feeder.

Lesser Goldfinch (Spinus psaltria)

The first feeder, purchased at Wild Birds Unlimited, is filled with black oiled sunflowers, and many birds, not just the two in the photo, love the seeds. It’s a popular dining establishment in my back garden. The second feeder is courtesy of two native plants (Frostweed, Verbesina virginica, and Plateau goldeneye, Viguiera dentata), both of which bloomed during summer and autumn, and have since been rendered dormant by a couple of light freezes. I’ve pruned neither this winter because these plants, and others in my garden, are currently providing meals, cover, and (eventually) nesting material for a number of bird species.

In the past 50-70 years, the paradigm for home garden beauty has been the swath of green turf, augmented with hedged, tidy, and typically non-native, evergreen shrubs lining the foundation of a home. Additionally, spots of decorative flowers, dictated by season, are popped into designated beds. At the end of a season, those flowers are unceremoniously ripped out and replaced by a new batch of bloomers. The bedding flowers, often sterile, are cultivars which are mass-produced for their beauty to the human eye, rather than for any importance to pollinators, birds, and other endemic wildlife. This garden model is high maintenance, requiring frequent irrigation and chemical intervention to feed the thirsty and hungry plants. Herbicides and pesticides often partner with the chosen plants because problematic insects thrive in landscapes which rely on non-native plants. This garden mode certainly enjoys a kind of beauty: it’s neat, with colors and textures that are controlled, expected, and predictable.

But I find this–a native plant, post-freeze, crinkly of leaves and tawny in color, providing a wintering American Goldfinch food and cover–an exemplar of garden beauty.

I know many people prefer the neat hedge, loud bedding colors, and trim lawn over the bare bramble of limbs, “dead” foliage, and spiky seed heads that define native plants in winter. But wildlife–birds, insects, reptiles, and mammals–require native seeds and decaying plant material that nature provides; it’s a process that is part of the seasonal norm and is how living, self-sustaining environments evolved. The symbiotic relationship between a plant and its animal or insect mark both biological balance and eternal beauty.

While growing wildflowers, and native trees, shrubs, and perennials never entirely disappeared from home garden practices, the native plants movement has enjoyed a renaissance in recent decades. This back-to-native plants movement has bolstered wildlife in urban areas. As urban areas encroach into and limit wild spaces, native plant additions to home and commercial gardens serve as a respite for wildlife. Yes, non-native plants can provide food, but fauna benefits most when the flora it evolved alongside is present.

Not a great photo, but I like the stair step of the three male Lesser Goldfinches. They and several buddies were all over this collection of dormant Frostweed and Plateau goldeneye.

While it may look “messy” to the human eye, dormant plants, with their prickly sticks and complex seeds, are a boon to birds. I don’t prune my garden messy until late in winter, the exact wacking-back dependent on the unique the weather pattern of a particular winter-into-spring. I also pay close attention to whether there are any birds feeding at the plants. Once the plants are bird-free and days have lengthened and warmed, pruning time in my garden has arrived.

Both the American and Lesser Goldfinches are migrants who overwinter here in Austin, Zone 8b. They travel in groups from available seeds source to available seed source, in a sort of avian progressive meal train. Flocks will flit and nosh in my garden one day, and be gone to another gardening establishment the next. Some stick around to snip insects from the trees and shrubs, bathe in the pond’s bog or bird baths, and eat seeds, either from the feeder or the plants.

Other wintering birds, like this Orange-crowned Warbler, Oreothlypis celata, are daily visitors to a variety of plants in my garden. This female (I think!) enjoys the seed from a dormant Frostweed. During the blooming seasons, it serves as a rich buffet for many kinds of pollinators; in winter the seedheads splay on strong limbs, high enough to protect tiny bird diners.

The Orange-crowned also regularly stops at the suet feeder. Purchased suet (like mine) or the homemade kind is nutritious for birds in winter, as it provides needed fat.

It’s not only migratory birds who enjoy plants or suet, but also residents. The year-rounders, like this Carolina Chickadee, Poecile carolinensis, regularly partake of the suet offering. In my warm climate, I only hang the suet feeder from late October to April, or at the latest, early May. Central Texas summers are far too hot for suet–it becomes rancid quickly.

I’m not against feeding birds, but I aim to plant at least some of what they’ve been eating for millenia, and pair that with supplementary sources. I’m pleased to offer both.

Achieving a wildlife friendly garden doesn’t require radical changes, nor does it have to be all wild. With relatively simple modifications, gardeners can easily transform their gardens to wildlife habitats; even a formal garden can serve as a wildlife habitat, with some thoughtful plant choices and particular plant practices. Choosing native plants (when available) over introduced species, and leaving plants to their natural state are key drivers to the goal of a wildscape. Birds and mammals nibble from natives and utilize limbs and leaves for nesting and cover, so deadheading and over-pruning should be limited. Available water sources, some leaves and limbs left in discreet areas to decay naturally over time, and eliminating chemicals from the garden are all equal good wildlife gardening for restoring a healthy ecosystem for our wild brethren–and ourselves. The National Wildlife Federation and your local Native Plant Society are great resources in the how-tos of creating a wildlife habitat.

Roughly 40% of Americans feed birds and we do it for a variety of reasons. Those who study birds suggest that for people, feeding birds is a simple and satisfying way to connect with the natural world. Audubon Society and Cornell Lab of Ornithology both suggest that bird lovers exercise caution in what they feed birds and where feeders are placed. Development of aggressive behaviors, deformities caused by poor nutrition, diseases passed through contaminated feeders, and dependence on humans as food sources are all serious concerns in the long-range interests for birds. Because the plight of birds is precarious, certainly for some more than others, it’s wise to learn about the birds who live in or travel through your region, and then make appropriate food choices. For interesting information about how feeding birds impacts their populations, read these two articles, one by the Audubon Society and the other by Cornell Lab.

All that said, it is fun to watch birds and part of the watching is the feeding.

“Three little finches, sittin’ on a feeder….” Okay, it doesn’t quite have the same ring as the original ditty.

Share, and share alike! Three wintering male American Goldfinches dine with a resident female House Finch.

For myself, it was a love of Texas native plants that led to an appreciation of the wildlife that followed those plants.

If you plant them, they will come.

Minor tweaks to the traditional 20th century better-living-through-chemicals garden practices will change your garden, your perspective on your part of the Earth, and will lead to new learning and adventures in the garden.

I like birds, so much so that I’ve added a section to my menu bar which will link you, dear reader, to past (and future!) articles about birds in my garden. Enjoy!