Mark Johnson--Princeton's Animal Control Officer No More

Mark Johnson, who served as Princeton's animal control officer for more than twenty years, was recently offered a separation agreement by the municipality. Animal control services have been outsourced to Montgomery. The reason for the separation, according to articles at PlanetPrinceton.com, has nothing to do with his field work but instead with record keeping and his handling of rabies vaccines supplied by the state.

Other decisions about his employment remain shrouded in mystery, as far as I know. He was shifted from the health department to the police department a couple years ago for no clear reason, and within the last year or so I read that he was no longer allowed to make house calls to assist homeowners with animal control issues.

His house calls were a great service. My interactions with Mark were always positive. He helped us get raccoons out of the historic Veblen House attic, and his policy on keeping chickens in the backyard was a pragmatic one, allowing chickens (no roosters) as long as bordering neighbors approve. He was my go-to person for information on coyotes and other wildlife in Princeton. He also had to endure criticism coming from those who oppose Princeton's deer policy--a policy that, given that we long ago eliminated the natural predators necessary to control deer population, has greatly benefitted Princeton's forests, dramatically reduced car accidents, and insured a better balance between deer numbers and available habitat. His was not an easy job.

Egg Ideosynchrasies

One year into their residency in our backyard, our ducks and chickens continue an improbable output, with the ducks laying daily and the Aracana chickens somewhat less productive. Most of the duck eggs are only slightly larger than the chicken eggs, but now and then the large Pekin duck lays a double yolk whopper, like the one on the left in the photo. Next to it is a chicken egg (more pointed), and a miniature duck egg perhaps laid by the mother mallard whose chicks are nearly grown. The red oak acorn is included for scale.

The duck eggs have thicker shells, which may owe to the ducks' great interest in filtering through dirt and mud with their beaks, which no doubt increases their consumption of minerals. We try to keep the dirt in the backyard as clean as possible, for their eating pleasure.

The miniature egg laid by the mother mallard--the first since she had ducklings--had no yolk at all.

A friend tells me that duck eggs "taste like other eggs only more." In a frying pan, the duck egg on the right is barely distinguishable, with only a slightly larger yolk than the chicken egg.

Once we found a cache of eggs in a tight spot in the coop that was out of sight. Since eggs slowly dry out over time, with air displacing some of the eggwhite, the older ones will angle up or become completely vertical in water, depending on their age. The eggs we found make a series, with gradations of tilt and, presumably, age, starting at ten o'clock and going counterclockwise.

The large influx of eggs crowding our frig causes us, counterintuitively, to eat fewer of them, much like the spectacular production of sunchoke tubers can reduce the desire to eat them. It's a reflex that has to be consciously countered.

Healthy Children, Healthy Planet--2014

The Riverside Elementary PTO brought the country to the people last weekend, for their annual environmental fair and fundraiser. There was Dorothy Mullen--who with the help of many volunteers over the years has nurtured the Riverside gardens to their glorious state--announcing the winners of the raffle.

And a small herd of sheep whose wool was being spun into yarn just outside the pen. The sheep must have been wondering why humans don't just grow their own fur.

There were some fine exhibits by the Friends of Princeton Open Space and the Princeton Schools Garden Initiative, some crafts, a plant sale, a yoga clinic...

My table, despite being stocked with info-packed books and pamphlets with compelling names like Rain Garden Manual of New Jersey, the Princeton Environmental Resource Inventory, and Princeton's Guide to Leaf Management, lacked a certain charisma until Dorothy's chickens arrived.

Kids related to the chickens in different ways. This boy lingered and gazed at them with a deep curiosity,

while others took particular pleasure in holding one. This chicken, named Buttons, being held most happily by a girl named Muktaa, is one my daughter brought to the fair from our countrified backyard on Harrison Street. (Thanks to Karla Cook for this photo.)

The event, riding the tide of a perfect day, raised $6000 towards sustaining the garden education programs that have become an important part of school curriculum.

In the words of lead organizers Beth Behrend and Julie Capozzoli, the event helps "provide all of our children with lifelong lessons in nutrition, healthy living, sustainability, hands-on learning and much more"

The Hungry Hawk Pays a Visit

My daughter called to me yesterday from the family room that looks out on our backyard. She had just seen a hawk swoop down on our freely ranging ducks and chickens. Only the loud complaints of the largest duck, it seems, caused the hawk to veer back up to a nearby tree. In this dreary late winter time of tired snow and lingering chill, it's not surprising this beautiful, unsubsidized red tailed hawk, living by its wits through lean times, would take an interest in our backyard fowl.

Our first impulse, seeing it posing so nobly on distant tree branch, peering with less than noble designs at our small flock, was to take a photo. There was time, particularly given that the objects of its desire had taken cover behind a thick tangle of brush in the back corner of the lot. Brush piles have their uses in the winter, when the landscape is otherwise stripped of hiding places.

We went out into the yard expecting the hawk to fly away. Instead, and despite its clearly diminished prospects, it continued to look down at us, apparently having no better place to go. Finally it flew off and the runner duck and Buttons the chicken re-emerged from behind the woodpile.

And who do we have to thank for our birds' continued survival in a world of very hungry hawks? Why, it's the very clumsy but very brave Pekin "guard duck", with the keen eye and a voluminous quack she's not afraid to use when it is most needed.

Her quack has had no effect on the snow, however, which lingers despite the ducks' clear preference for a more liquid world.

We had another scare a few weeks ago when Buttons disappeared without a trace. Had a raccoon snatched her when we left the coop door open too late one evening? Strange that there were no feathers scattered around to indicate a struggle. It took me a couple days to break the news to my daughter, who went outside, poked around, and found that the chicken had somehow gotten trapped under the plastic cover on the bales of bedding straw. She had survived on a diet of snow until she was discovered.

Though the ducks clearly miss taking baths in the backyard miniponds, the birds have done remarkably well through a difficult winter, without any supplementary heat. The chickens stopped laying for a month or two during the shortest days, but then resumed, and the ducks continue laying eggs like clockwork, one a day, each, oblivious of day length, cold, and the lack of anything beyond chicken feed.

Cooper's Hawk Pays a Holiday Visit

Yesterday, I looked out the back window to see our Pekin duck, Daisy, rotating her head to look skyward (haven't managed to capture that in a photo). Usually, that means there's something interesting up there.

This time it was a Coopers hawk perched thirty feet up in a silver maple tree near the back fence. The hawk, who I assumed was not auditioning for the role of Santa Claus, appeared in no hurry to take any action, so I decided to take some photos before bursting out the back door to scare it away.

The ducks had already gone back to foraging,

but our chicken Buffy continued to stand stock still under a bush. A female duck, with its sizable bill, is much more confident about defending itself than a hen. Buttons, our other chicken, was nowhere to be seen.

Only after I stepped out back, and the hawk flew away, did I notice Buttons, hiding behind Buffy. The Pekin duck may have been sufficiently intimidating in size and manner to give the hawk pause, and my entry on the scene will hopefully discourage the hawk from returning for awhile.

Egg production lately has been an egg each day from each of the ducks. The chickens are laying off egg laying, probably because we haven't given them supplementary lighting.

The ducks and chickens require no heating in their coop, though the watering can freezes up if there's no heating plate underneath it.

Spotted Lanternfly in Princeton

Most people by now have heard of the spotted lanternfly, an insect native to China, Vietnam and parts of India that somehow showed up in eastern Pennsylvania in 2014. A leaf hopper with distinctive markings and colorful wings, it spread rapidly as it sucked the juices out of grape vines, orchards, and trees like Ailanthus, black walnut, maple and red oak.

Two years ago, local papers reported a sighting of spotted lanternfly in northeastern Princeton. Last year, the summer of 2019, a couple friends reported seeing it in Princeton--Mimi found a few in her backyard in western Princeton; Scott saw some in Herrontown Woods near the parking lot. 

For me, it didn't become real until I encountered this curiously tilted nymph on a butternut tree leaf near Veblen House in Herrontown Woods in early July. A Penn State Extension post describes the insect's colorful development from egg to nymph to the winged adults that emerge in late July.

For some reason, I had avoided writing about the spotted lanternfly. Maybe I was maxed out on the world's problems, and didn't really want to delve into the prospect of yet another introduced insect wreaking environmental havoc. 

Unlike the Emerald ash borer, which has gone largely unseen as it skeletonizes our vistas, quietly killing every untreated ash tree in Princeton, 

the spotted lanternfly sounded poised to make a highly visible and messy invasion. The PA Dept. of Agriculture published a pdf with graphic photos showing mildewed foliage and tree trunks covered with the adult insects. And because plant juice is very dilute, the sucking insects need to move a lot of juice through their bodies to get the nutrition they need. That means that both nymphs and adults expel large amounts of "honeydew", which drops down from the trees and vines, and coats foliage on the ground with sugary liquid, promoting the growth of mold. Their egg cases look like mud, affixed to trees or cars or most anything. It sounded like our habitat restorations and garden beautifications would be reduced to a tattered, moldy mess.

Below are compiled some research and experiences with spotted lanternfly this past weekend at Herrontown Woods. 

Ailanthus--the Spotted Lanternfly's favorite food

Turns out that the spotted lanternfly has a strong preference for sucking the juices of Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima). Native to China, Ailanthus is fairly common in Princeton and can be invasive, forming clones and sprouting aggressively from its roots if cut down. A stand of Ailanthus can be used for trapping the spotted lanternfly. Penn State extension offers tips for homeowners on this. 

At the Herrontown Woods botanical garden, next to the parking lot, we have an Ailanthus growing, and sure enough, some adult lanternflies were found clinging to its bark.

Looking up, the Ailanthus leaves appear to be getting eaten, though the lanternflies are said only to suck from the trunk and the stems, not the thinner tissue of the leaves themselves. 

In a sense, the preference for Ailanthus is good news. An invasive tree is being attacked by a newly introduced insect from a similar region of the world. But the tree is also helping the insect expand its numbers through the summer, and toxic compounds in Ailanthus, when ingested by the lanternfly, may confer some protection from predators.

The lanternfly's honeydew is causing sooty mold to grow on the plants underneath the tree.  The NJ Dept. of Agriculture info sheet reports that the sap dripping from "weeping wounds" on tree trunks can attract stinging insects. 

Probably the best thing to do is to take down the Ailanthus, using techniques described here.

More advice for homeowners

There's an enjoyable and clever article on various tactics on the MercerMe site. For instance, the adults are very quick to jump if you try to squash them. The article says their reflexes slow down with persistent efforts, however. Will test that next time. 

Utilizing more finesse is a trap a Pennsylvania teenager came up with after watching the lanternflies climbing the trunks of trees. She ringed the tree with tin foil to channel the ascending insects into a bag, where they would die within 24 hours. Another thorough read for homeowners is at this link, including a test to see if chickens would eat them. They didn't,

but something is clearly eating them, as these wings at Herrontown Woods show. 

Longterm prognosis

Will the spotted lanternfly prove to be a longterm calamity, like the Emerald ash borer, or fade into the background as a passing problem? Will it be a lasting plague for vineyards and apple orchards? An article reports that few lanternflies were seen this year in the area of Pennsylvania where it was first discovered five years prior.  Local Princeton arborist Bob Wells is quoted in the Town Topics as saying that though vineyards and apple growers have reason for concern, for homeowners the insect "won't be much of a threat at all." I inquired on a listserve that includes land managers in Pennsylvania who have had the insect around for several years now, and got mixed responses. One observed reduced numbers one year, then a rebound the next. 

It can be hard to know if you have spotted lanternfly in your trees. My friend LisaB, who lives near Herrontown Woods, had a couple black oaks fall near her property in late July, and was surprised to find numerous SLF nymphs on the leaves that until then had been elevated 70 feet above the ground. She had seen none in her yard up to that point. Her photos show the last nymph stage (red), 

  

and a beautifully captured example of what a newly formed adult looks like. Documented in past posts on this blog, insects like cicadas, butterflies, and apparently spotted lanternflies as well, must hang down as they unfurl their new wings. If the wings brush up against any obstruction, they can easily become misshapened. 

Update, Aug. 6: Walking through Quarry Park, closer to downtown, I noticed some Ailanthus trees near Spruce Circle,  looked up at the leaves above, and saw them there as well, a few scattered adults sucking juice from the rachis of the compound leaves. Will the spotted lanternfly be background or foreground, a quiet addition or serious pest? Time will tell. 

In the meantime, it looks like removing Ailanthus trees would be the most straightforward way to limit this new arrival's numbers and impact.

Reporting: I tried reporting the Herrontown Woods and Quarry Park sightings. The email address bounced, and the telephone number is always busy. It may be that the state doesn't want to hear about sightings in counties where the insect is already present, or maybe it's so widespread by now that the information isn't helpful.

Does milkweed kill lanternflies?

On the leaves of common milkweed growing near our Ailanthus tree, I found several lanternflies belly up or immobilized, leading to speculation that the insects sucked juices from the milkweed and died from the toxins therein. Apparently, as an introduced species, they have yet to evolve an aversion to the plant.

Rescuing Carrots On an Organic Farm

Even grey, drizzly weather can have a warm feeling of victory to it, the day after helping to save a crop of carrots from an impending freeze. The urgent call for help came via forwarded email yesterday, from Chickadee Creek Farm, run by Jess Niederer, just down the road from StonyBrook/Millstone Watershed Association. Nothing like a deadline to get the juices flowing.

A field of carrots was ready for harvest and a potentially damaging snow was forecast. It was a good excuse to get out of Princeton and see where some of the food for the Thursday farmers markets comes from.

Go to a farm, they say, and you'll be greeted first by animals. The chickens were happy to see us, though we had little to offer them, compared with the windrows of leaf compost they had been scratching at. During the mass urban rejection of leaves in the fall, it can be healing to visit a farm, where the wealth of nutrients in leaves are welcomed and put to use.

That's Jess on the left, with lots of bags scattered about, already filled with carrots. Harvest was made much easier by a machine that had loosened the soil's grip, but also made the crop more vulnerable to a freeze. Carrots grew so densely, in five foot swaths separated only by enough room to accommodate a tractor tire, that the soil seemed to be solid carrots.

The density made for a big harvest, and occasional promiscuity among the carrots.

The field had a well-coiffed look, coated with ferny carrot foliage. One nifty technique for weeding Jess described is to walk through the field with a propane torch just before the carrot seeds germinate, and knock out any early weeds.

After harvest, the foliage is left on the ground. One of the concerns going into the winter months is to have as much of the soil covered as possible--with crops or annual rye. Otherwise, the wind can secretly, invisibly carry topsoil away. This field won't rotate back to carrots again for at least three years.

Elsewhere, many shades of kale led veiled lives,

and an allee of miniature kale palmtrees lacked only Playmobile people for scale.

Today, a followup email arrived from Jess with a report:

"By my calculations, that's 4649 pounds of rainbow carrots and 500 pounds of watermelon radishes that we snatched from the jaws of the weather beast. Great work! Thank you, thank you, thank you. As Karla said yesterday, it takes a village to raise a farm!"

That's a warm feeling to carry us through a chilly Thanksgiving weekend.

Hawk-Duck Standoff

A typical day in the backyard, the ducks hanging out, inbetween swims in the miniponds and forays to glean whatever they glean from the lawn when it's moist. The largest is the white Pekin duck on the left, with four mostly grown mallard chicks back under the lawn furniture with their mother.

But one afternoon a few days ago, I saw the Pekin chasing the young ducks into the bushes, as if it were bullying them--something I'd never seen the big duck do.

Five or ten minutes later, my daughter looked out the window to see the ducks gone and a hawk perched on the lawn furniture. Never a good sign, if you have urban poultry, but at least it wasn't giving chase to any of the ducks.

It seemed puzzled about what to do next. We ran out, and the hawk flew off, a little smaller than others, and with a beautiful fresh look to the feathers--all the more beautiful because it was flying away without any dinner.

Judging from how the white Pekin duck quickly spots soaring birds overhead, I'd guess it hadn't been bullying the younger ducks but instead herding them to cover, having spied the hawk before any of the rest of us. The big Pekin lumbers about with an exaggerated waddle, and its periodic attempts at flight are reminiscent of the flying machine the chickens build in the claymation film Chicken Run, but it may be playing the role of guardian, just vigilant and intimidating enough to keep the hawks at bay.

Seeds for the Spreading

Hibiscus seedheads act like baseball mitts, catching snow in this winter-come-lately weather. There's been some seed collecting this past fall and winter for a couple projects of the Friends of Herrontown Woods. At Smoyer Park, we're partnering with the Princeton Rec. Dept. and Partners for Fish and Wildlife to convert a detention basin to a native wet meadow.

And at the Veblen House, Kurt Tazelaar has been restoring an area where Elizabeth Veblen likely had her daffodil nursery. Over the intervening fifty years, wisteria had spread from the house to climb the trees, obscure the fenceline and claim the sunlight in this woodland opening.

Both of these spots have a combination of wet ground and sun favorable for some favorite native wildflowers that could bring some color to the neighborhood in late summer.

Many of the seeds come from my backyard, which has become a contained riot of local genotypes of cutleaf coneflower,

wild senna,

ironweed, and many others. Leaving last year's stalks up until spring provides cover for our free-ranging chickens, food for the birds, and a superstructure for overwintering insects.

Here's a Eupatorium, with a name only a botanist could love--late-flowering thoroughwort--

and the clustered seeds of buttonbush.

Ironweed seeds have some beauty to them, leaning out over the DR Canal, which was the original source for most of these floodplain species that I've been spreading across Princeton over many years. The canal's sunny openings and lack of past farming provided a place these species could live to bloom another day.

One doesn't need to be near a stream to have floodplain habitat, as many yards around town have low ground that remains wet for long periods, and downspouts create miniature floods of water that can be made to linger in a raingarden. The more places these wildflowers grow in town, the more resilient is the overall population, not only of various wildflowers but also the pollinators that depend on them for food in late summer, when woodlands offer little nectar. Think of it as repopulating the local food desert, ecologically speaking.

Sometimes, seedheads find their way indoors, in this case, Hibiscus and Culver's Root. The Culver's root this seedhead comes from was bought, for lack of a local population.

The slow-release saltshaker-like capsules of Hibiscus moscheutos in early winter, before the seeds have been eaten or shaken out by the wind.

Some hearts a bustin' berries in autumn (Euonymus americanus). A favorite of the deer, only two wild populations of this native shrub have been found in Princeton, both at Herrontown Woods. Because deer find this shrub so delicious, fenced-in backyards become its best chance for reaching maturity.