The Madman And The Sun Angle
You can tell by the sun angle. It’s a month past the fall equinox. As much as the madman doesn’t want to believe it, fall is here. The sun is closer to the southern horizon so it doesn’t beat down like it has all summer. We haven’t reached the Persephone period yet, so we have more than 10 hours of sunlight. But, it’s not the quality sunlight of the summer.
Migrating Birds
Even the birds have given up and left for warmer climates. Sure, our best friends the Black-capped chickadees (Poecile atricapillus) will be with us for the winter, but others have left. The Ruby-throated hummingbirds (Archilocus colubris) are long gone. For the madman, that was the most noticeable. His feeders were full. His flowers were (and still are!) blooming. The weather was warm. Why would they leave? It wasn’t anything he did or didn’t do; their circannual rhythm said time to go south. And off they went. We know most of them leave around mid-September, but we leave the feeders up in case a straggler flies by. And, guess what? This year we actually saw one in October.
For Some Connecticut is South
No more hummingbirds until spring. But we did see the first Dark-eyed junco (Junco hyemalis) of the season. Like the hummingbird, he migrates south in the fall. But, south for him is Connecticut. His northern breeding range is way up in the wilds of Canada. Juncos will be joining us for the winter months.
According to an article in Scientific American, the White-throated sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) is another species that flies south to Connecticut for the winter. This fact surprised the madman, although, thinking about this, he can’t say that he saw a White-throated sparrow this summer. We know that migratory birds go south to find more food and probably stay warmer, but our friend the chickadee stays. How does he do it?
Not Just a Flitter
The chickadee really isn’t the delicate little flitter we all think he is. He actually is a dynamic metabolic fireball. While flitting around, the chickadee’s heartrate can increase to nearly 2000 beats per minute – the more he moves around, the hotter he is. In fact, the chickadee maintains a body temperature of 108˚. But, he has to keep that temperature going. So, in the fall he grows about 30% more feathers for insulation.
We see the chickadees flitting around our birdfeeders on cold winter days. All that activity has to keep them warm, but what happens at night? Several birds can huddle together in a hole in a tree, fluffing up their feathers and shivering (by contracting their chest muscles). This fluffing and shivering creates heat. But, the key to surviving a frigid winter’s night is their ability to lower their metabolism. Their heartrate drops to about 500 beats per minute, and they enter a controlled hypothermia. This burns up much less body fat. When dawn breaks, each bird may be 10% lighter and is ready to go about the day eating so they can survive another night.
An Impressive Brain
The thing about the chickadee that impresses the madman the most is their brain. The madman knew that the chickadees constantly hide food in tree cavities and behind bark, and always felt it was such a waste of time. Remember, this is the man who can’t keep his garlic straight without a label. He was sure that half of this food was lost forever. But, in the fall, the chickadee’s brain begins to produce extra memory cells. The increased memory capacity does in fact allow them to find their stashed food. Interestingly, in the spring the extra cells die off and the slate is wiped clean. The madman is jealous.
Other winter birds do much of the same, but we have a special affection for the chickadees. They seem to have adopted us. They even stop by for a quick visit and a drink of water when we dine on the treehouse.
Will the Catbirds Stay?
The other day, while watching the birds in the backyard, I heard the madman say, “There’s a catbird. No, there’s two of them.” They shouldn’t be here, it’s time to migrate. After a bit of research, the madman found out that we are actually on the very northern edge of the Gray catbird’s (Dumetella carolinensis) winter grounds. We’ll keep an eye out for them – they usually leave for the season: we’ll see if they decide to stay this year.
Speaking of garden sightings, we saw a Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus) the other day. She was such a fine looking specimen that we were sure she had just hatched. “This has to be a migrater,” the madman said. Sure enough, she did not hang around long.
Super Monarch Generation
The fall migrating monarch, often referred to as the super monarch generation, will live longer and travel farther than the summer generations. The one we saw has to make it down to Mexico, a trip of about 2000 miles. The southern migration of Monarch butterflies is triggered by several factors. The first is dropping temperatures – remember, it is fall, the days are getting cooler. Also, the milkweed is getting old and this is the only source of food for young caterpillars. But, perhaps the most important factor is the angle of the sun. Research has shown that migration occurs when the noon sun is between 57˚-48˚ above the southern horizon. Right now our sun angle is about 40˚ so this lady is a bit behind schedule. We hope she makes it. Although she never has made this trip she will use the sun to navigate and an internal compass will guide her.
The Sun’s Going Down
Our migrating friends might not like our sun angle, but the madman is comfortable with it. We need a decreasing level of sunlight to get ourselves and our plants ready for the coming winter. In our personal gardening, we have plant migrations, too. In our case they go from the garden to either the house, or the greenhouse, or the basement. We’ll be moving three different groups; cacti and succulents, citrus, and a hodge-podge of exotics from pomegranates to passion vines and brugmansia. Our native plants stay outside where they will easily survive the winter.
As you can imagine the next few weeks will be a flurry of activity. Before the frost we have to move our tender plants from outside to in. And that’s not just a simple matter of relocating. We’ve learned the hard way that just bringing plants inside is a recipe for disaster.
No Hitchhiking Allowed
Plants heading for the house are sprayed with an organic insecticide to prevent hitchhikers looking for a warm winter. Since we know that some insects prefer to hide in the soil, we drench the soil with an Ivory Liquid solution. Our soil drench is much like our bread making, measurements aren’t exact, but we aim for something close to 5 tbsp. Ivory Liquid per gallon of water. This will smother the insects, clear their eggs or simply drive them out. Two drenchings usually do it.
Before each plant is moved in, we pull it out of the pot for a quick inspection of the roots. This allows us to find and remove insects that have made it through the drench. We still remember an ant colony that snuck in at the bottom of a Bay laurel (Laurus nobilis) pot. The madman doesn’t like ants, especially in the house.
Decisions, Decisions
Deciding which plant goes where is perhaps the most difficult part of migration. At one time, all cacti were brought inside; some wintered in a southern window, others under lights in the basement. After joining the Connecticut Cactus and Succulent Society (CCSS), the madman realized that some of his cacti were tougher than he gave them credit for. But, a visit to the greenhouse of Chris Allen, president of CCSS, convinced him to overwinter his cacti in his greenhouse where the low temperature is 35˚-38˚. Succulents on the other hand are a little less cold tolerant, so they get a sunny window or a spot under lights in the basement.
Next the citrus. Since the madman feels that citrus can survive temperatures near 32˚, they also go to the greenhouse. However, his collection is so large that some have to overwinter in the house, hence the rigid inspection.
Finally, The Exotics
The exotics like the Mandevilla (Mandevilla sanderi), Passion Flower (Passiflora ssp.) and Papyrus (Cyperus papyrus) will go to the floor of the basement. Since these will be overwintered in a dormant state, we’ll cut them back severely after the soil drench. During the winter, we’ll make sure the soil doesn’t dry out. Other exotics like the Dwarf Pomegranate (Prunica granatum) and Avocado (Persea Americana) will spend their winter days under lights in the basement – they get a more frequent watering.
Sounds like an awful lot of work. But in the dead of winter the occasional bloom of a Crown of Thorns or the pleasant scent of a lemon blossom sure does lift the spirits – after all you can only look at so many seed catalogs before going bonkers. So, this work we gladly do.
Time for a break. Cocoa? Lemonade? With today’s temperature we’re not sure which.
