Poverty Weed and Goldenrod

Two, new-to-my-garden native plants popped up this season, whether gifts from wind or wildlife, I won’t hazard a guess, but I’m pleased nonetheless. I was excited when I spotted the resplendent blooms of a Goldenrod, Solidago gigantea.

I then recognized its frothy neighbor, a Poverty Weed, Baccharis neglecta.

The plants actually belong to my neighbor and sister-in-law, as they’ve grown up at the base of the remains of her large Arizona Ash, which is now mostly bark, but full of life with insects and perching birds. I had no idea these two were plotting to play a role in the ensemble of the garden because they’ve been situated between my SIL’s tree and a group of my plants, including a large Plateau Goldeneye, Viguiera dentata, some Turk’s Cap, Malvaviscus arboreus, and a Mexican Orchid tree, Bauhinia mexicana, and so weren’t noticed until each grew tall enough and flowered bodaciously enough to demand attention.

Both plants’ blooms are providing plenty for pollinators; mostly I’ve seen bees.

In this photo, just north of the smeary honeybee, you can see a tiny, dark native bee. To the right of that bee, is another native, either bee or beetle, I’m not quite sure.

The Poverty Weed’s mass of snowy blooms reaches over a cluster of Goldeneye flowers; bees zip between the two plants.

Photos of the small flowers have been tricky, due to wind, rain, and photographer limitations, but in this photo, there are several tiny black insects–all native bees.

This honeybee is a giant compared to the little natives nectaring, but both species are enjoying the bounty.

I’m always tickled when new plants make their home in my garden and I appreciate observing and learning about them. I will need to cull any seedlings that these two produce (and there will be some…or plenty), but I welcome these native pollinator plants full of charm and beauty and appreciate their contribution to the diversity of my garden.

Yellow

There’s yellow,

…and then there’s yellow!

Autumn migration is in full swing! Year in and year out, a most dependable visitor to my gardens during both spring and autumn migrations are the eponymous Yellow Warbler, Setophaga petechia. Flitty, flighty birds, these little darlings are a treat to see. I nearly always have birds of both genders stop in for a time; sometime they come as couples, often, they visit separately.

A female Yellow Warbler bopped around the Rough-leaf Dogwood, Cornus drummondii, growing near the pond. I planted this small native tree in this particular spot to give both resident and migratory birds a quick hiding place up and away from the pond. It also offers creamy fall fruits for noshing, if that’s on a bird’s menu.

Ms. Yellow used the foliage wisely, cautiously peeking out before her forays to the pond.

There are plenty of spots for tired, hot, thirsty birds to settle in for a drink and a fluttery bath.

Later, her mate, or maybe a random Yellow dude on the same travel path, came by to check out the water feature.

In the avian world, the male birds are nearly always brighter and more colorful than their female partners. The Yellow Warbler male also rocks rusty streaking on its chest which the females lack.

The Yellow Warblers are heading to Central America and parts of South America, along with millions of other birds. They have treacherous travels ahead before they land in their wintering quarters. My garden, especially the pond, provides safety and respite for the stalwart wanderers and the maintenance of a wildlife habitat is a responsibility I’ve wholeheartedly accepted. Wildlife-friendly gardens are necessary in a world where buildings, roads, sterile lawns, and all manner of urbanization has damaged and reduced the natural world.

A Royal Visit

Migration season has arrived and the first bird that I’ve identified as a non-resident and stranger to these parts is this handsome Eastern Kingbird, Tyrannus tyrannus. According to Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s map, my area here in Austin, Texas is on the edge of its breeding range, but I’ve never seen an Eastern Kingbird before, though Western Kingbirds are fairly common.

This visitor perched in the Red Oak tree near my pond, fluttering occasionally over the pond itself, presumably snacking on insects. A flycatcher, Eastern Kingbirds eat insects, hunting them on the wing. They also enjoy small reptiles and fruit, especially in their wintering grounds in South America.

King then spent time in the smaller Roughleaf Dogwood tree, Cornus drummondii, which is full of ripe berries for the munching. I didn’t see the bird eat any fruit, but Kingbirds routinely nosh on fall and winter fruits, and that is exactly why I planted a couple of these hardy and attractive small trees: spring flowers for the pollinators, fruits in late summer/fall for the birds.

Cornell’s Kingbird information mentions a red crest that these territorial and aggressive birds flash as a challenge to a predator. This one didn’t exhibit any red that I saw, though it clearly has a defined crest. I’m guessing this is a female or juvenile male bird. As adorable as it looks, these birds are bullies! They have no problem going after bigger birds like hawks and crows, and are aggressive with other birds and small mammals. Apparently, this bird is appropriately named in both its common name (Kingbird) and its scientific name (Tyrannus tyrannus). The good folks at Cornell remind us that the term Tyrannus means “tyrant, despot, or king.”

The Hub and I are planning a wildlife/birding trip to Costa Rica in the not-too-distant future and in a phone call with the guide that we’ve hired for the trip, I mentioned that an Eastern Kingbird had visited my garden. He commented that Kingbirds were “good-looking birds” (I agree!) and mentioned that in Costa Rica, they travel in in big flocks. I wonder if this bird will be in Costa Rica at the same time we visit–maybe we can exchange travel stories!

The King looks cute-n-goofy in these photos, but it was hot outside, thus the open beak.

A resident Blue Jay popped into the scene, but kept its distance from Royal Highness.

Kingbird perched in the Dogwood, above the lowly Jay, no doubt lording over its temporary territory. The Blue Jay stayed near the bog area of the pond, just hanging out, being a Jay.

Bird migratory season has arrived. I don’t see either the variety or numbers of birds in fall migration as during spring migration, but it’s time to keep a keen eye on the pond and gardens for more than the usual suspects. It’s time to observe and appreciate their beauty and contributions to diverse ecosystems. My garden will serve as a respite for shelter, food, and water for these remarkable creatures during their long, arduous travels.