Categories
Cottage Life

Monarch butterflies move to “red list”, endangered, say conservationists

Summer may be a little less bright this year. Last week, the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) moved the migratory monarch butterfly to its “red list” of threatened species. Now endangered, the bright orange butterfly’s population has been battling habitat loss and climate change for decades.

This “endangered” classification puts monarchs just two steps from extinction, renewing the already high alert for the butterfly’s wellbeing. 

While the new report and label does not directly impact conservation law, it can inspire people to “take a look at monarchs—and other insects—and do more to conserve and protect them,” says Don Davis, who has been tagging, tracking, and observing monarch butterflies between Canada and Mexico since the 60s.

“Right now, this planet is in pretty rough shape. Species are on the decline,” says Davis, who personally has not seen many monarchs this year.“We had a cool, damp spring,” he explains.

Climate change, including droughts and extreme weather, is a huge factor, Davis says. Other threats, he notes, are “extensive” herbicide and pesticide use as well as land use changes, especially around Lake Erie, Lake Huron, and Lake Ontario, “which are important monarch migration paths.”

Couple that with modified plant species and degrading overwintering forests in Mexico, many factors are affecting the monarch’s ability to feed and reproduce peacefully.

“We’re planting more and more nonnative plants,” Davis says. The relationships between native plants and insects have developed over millennia and rapidly changing the ecosystem with nonnative flora is nearly impossible for native species to adapt to. 

“Our ecosystems are changing very quickly, breaking down, and not working as effectively as they once did,” he says.

The IUCN designation implores Canada, Mexico, and the United States to revisit their individual (national and regional) species at risk lists. In 2016, the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada recommended classifying monarch butterflies endangered, but in the U.S. monarchs await inclusion on the respective list.

How to help monarch butterflies survive

The great migration

Every summer, millions of monarch butterflies paint the sky orange as they migrate from the tropical forests of Mexico, through the United States, to Canada to breed and feed. The 3,000-kilometre commute is impressive but risky for the fluttering insects. The migration opens them up to threats from across the continent, from severe storms and droughts, to illegal logging and various pesticides. “Hundreds of thousands die along the way,” Davis says. “It’s a precarious journey.”

It’s important to look at monarch populations in terms of their wintering population, Davis explains. To maintain monarch numbers, we need to have a population of about six hectares of forest cover. (Often, monarch butterfly numbers are assessed in terms of how much area they cover.) “We have a long way to go to stabilize that migration population,” he says.

In Canada, specifically in southern and eastern Ontario, expect to see monarchs migrating from mid-August to mid-September. Their key routes are around the Great Lakes where there are flowering plants and large clover fields.

If you’re in the Toronto area, at Tommy Thompson Park (or the Leslie Spit) you can find monarchs treating themselves to the goldenrod fields. “It’s an amazing phenomenon,” Davis says. “You have to be there when they cluster in the fall. It’s pretty spectacular to see.”

How should we help?

Positive change is possible, Davis says, “but a lot of work has to be done.”

To start, “don’t mow just to mow,” he says. Correct management of private lands, crown lands, and municipal lands play an important role in preserving butterfly and other insects’ habitat and food sources. Besides monarchs, he says, “I’m finding very few species of other butterflies this year,” mentioning a lack of red admirals, viceroys and swallowtails in eastern Ontario. He mentions a drop in bee sightings too. 

Davis suggests and applauds homeowners and cottagers planting pollinator gardens that include goldenrod, milkweed—a monarch favourite—and other native flowering plants.

“When you benefit monarchs, you’re benefitting many other species,” he says.

He also suggests sharing with your kids, if you have them, and other people around you. “Study monarchs. Raise a few with your children,” he says. Exploring and reading are powerful ways to spark interest and raise awareness for butterflies. “I’ve always had an interest in nature,” says Davis, who grew up in rural Ontario around a family of farmers and developed an interest in nature at a young age.

Citizen science is vital and easy with apps like Journey North or iNaturalist. “Record sightings,” he says. “Teach others what you know. Donate to organizations that promote monarch conservation.” Davis is the chair of the U.S.-based Monarch Butterfly Fund

“There’s lots that people can do to contribute to improving the state of our planet,” Davis says. “Whether we’ll turn things around or not, we simply don’t know. But we’re gonna give it a good try.”

6 citizen science projects to get the whole family outdoors

 

Categories
Cottage Life

Wild Profile: Meet the greater yellowlegs

The greater yellowlegs has—wait for it—yellow legs. Good call, whoever gave this shorebird its common name. In March, the migratory bird begins to come home from winter U.S. digs in brackish wetlands, mudflats, flooded fields, and, ugh, sewage ponds, headed to Canada’s boreal wetlands and damp meadows. Greater yellowlegs parents seem to prefer shallow water and shrubby ponds where they can safely raise their kids. Who wouldn’t? During breeding season, the birds will sometimes fly up to and then perch on trees to watch for predators.

The greater yellowlegs vs the lesser yellowlegs

The greater yellowlegs walks with a high-stepping gait, its limbs flashing. Its cousin species, the lesser yellowlegs looks (no surprise) almost identical. But the greater bird is literally greater—that is, larger—with a longer, thicker bill. Side-by-side, most folks could see the difference, but when each bird is solo, it can be hard for anyone but an experienced birder to ID each yellowlegs.

What does this bird sound like? 

The greater yellowlegs’ screechy alarm call is one reason why birdwatchers don’t love this guy. It tends to scare away other shorebirds, so its nicknames are “tattler” and “yelper.” The most common call is a chirpy, ringing cry: tew tew tew. (It sounds, at least to some people, that the bird is saying its name: “yel-low-legs”). If you want to hear the bird in real life, be prepared to spend some time in boggy areas. When it’s dry, head to muddy reservoirs or lakes; when it’s wet, you can spot them in flooded fields. Adult birds also tend to wade into deeper water compared to other sandpipers—one reason that birders call the greater yellowlegs a “marshpiper.”

Categories
Cottage Life

Wild Profile: Meet the red-throated loon

If you’re asking, “What the heck is a red-throated loon?” you’re probably not alone. This smaller, paler diving bird is a cousin of the Canadian-famous common loon. But the red-throated loon is far less known, and definitely less photographed. One reason? Red-throats breed in the north. The only time a cottager is likely to spot one is when the birds journey south in the fall, stopping along the way at large water bodies including the Great Lakes.

Like other loons, the red-throated loon is a strong swimmer but terrible at walking on land. This is because its legs are positioned far back on its body. No matter—fish-eating loons were designed to dive for their dinner. Or, in the red-throat’s case fly, then dive. They often locate prey while flying—sometimes in flocks. Then, they drop rapidly into the water when they spot a school of fish. Red-throated loons have thin, dagger-like bills (all the better for spearing a meal).

Red-throated loons are more masterful fliers than their common cousins. At least, they’re better at getting airborne. Other loons need a long runway of water to “patter” along before they can take off; red-throats can spring into the sky. This means that they can use small tundra and taiga lakes, or even ponds, for nesting.

Just like the common loon, a red-throated loon loses its red eyes and breeding colours—a rust-coloured neck patch—in the winter. Their generic greyness makes nonbreeding common loons and nonbreeding red-throated loons tricky to tell apart during the cold season. Look closely: a common loon still has a mostly-dark face and neck, with only a blaze of white down the front. A red-throat has more white on its face and neck, with a more black-and-white speckled back. The latter is smaller, with a sinewy neck, a slighter build, and pointier wings.

Cottage Q&A: Why are these loons gathering in groups?

Categories
Cottage Life

Wild Profile: Meet the belted kingfisher

Every Canadian should recognize the belted kingfisher—this guy’s been on the $5 bill since 1986. The Canadian Bank Note Company printed the cash as part of the Birds of Canada series. (Since now you’re probably wondering: the $2 note featured the robin and the $10 bill, a flying osprey. Fifty dollars went to a snowy owl, and $100, a Canada goose. The popular, and probably most coveted spot went to every cottager’s favourite bird: the common loon.)

But the belted kingfisher—with its huge beak and spiky crest—is easy to ID regardless of its monetary claim to fame. Although kingfishers migrate, they tend to stick around cottage country longer than other birds, often until mid-November. It’s only once lakes start to ice over and their food supplies dwindle that they’ll hit the skies. Some don’t go farther than Southern Ontario; others head to Central America and the West Indies.

8 ways to help birds during the fall migration

The belted kingfisher has a big, sharp beak for two main reasons. One, to dig. These pigeon-sized birds don’t build nests; instead, they excavate burrows into high sandbanks or beside lakeshores. It’s slow, hard work. It takes a pair three weeks to tunnel in, kicking sand out of the hole with their feet.

The second reason for the massive headgear…er, facegear? For fishing, of course. (King. Fisher.) A belted kingfisher will hunt, flying low, over shallow water. Once it spots prey—young fish, frogs, or tadpoles—it dives face-first into the lake. Ow! Except no: that large beak is designed to withstand the impact.

With a meal in hand, the bird will head back to a nearby perch (usually a standing, dead tree). It stabs the prey, flips it in the air, and swallows it whole; great blue herons use a similar, violent trick. Sometimes a fish is too big for the kingfisher to swallow in one go. In that case, the bird lets the unfortunate prey sit partway down its throat so that digestive juices can start to dissolve the swallowed portion. Sounds…uncomfortable. For everyone involved.

Spot the belted kingfisher! Go birdwatching at Rondeau Provincial Park

Belted kingfisher babies are gone by the time late fall rolls around. They’re born in May or June and only stay with their parents for about six weeks. But you can still find evidence of adult kingfishers in November. Look for piles of small bones and fish scales on the ground. The belted kingfisher regurgitates this stuff after it eats.