Tag: wildlife observation

Juvenile Cooper’s Hawk at a Winter Feeder: A Backyard Predator in the Finger Lakes

On a frigid winter morning, a young Cooper’s Hawk claimed a backyard feeder roof, revealing how predators, snow, and survival intersect in an ordinary Finger Lakes yard.

MichaelStephenWills13 Comments

These four images and YouTube video document a winter visit by a juvenile Cooper’s Hawk (Accipiter cooperii) to our backyard feeder, captured on February 7, 2026, during a snowstorm in mid-morning light in sub-zero temperatures. The metadata places the sequence between 10:35 and 10:37 a.m., recorded on an iPhone 14 Pro Max with a 9 mm f/2.8 lens at low ISO (32) and fast shutter speeds—conditions that make sense for a bright, snowy day when reflected light is abundant and a moving subject demands short exposures. The bird itself, however, tells a longer story than the camera settings can.

Cooper’s Hawks are medium-sized accipiters, built for pursuit in cluttered spaces. Short, rounded wings and a long, banded tail allow them to thread through trees and shrubs with startling agility. In the Finger Lakes region in winter, they increasingly overlap with human habitats because bird feeders concentrate prey. The metal feeder roof in these images is mounded with snow, and the hawk has chosen it as a temporary perch—an elevated, stable platform that offers both a view of potential prey and a place to rest after a chase or to wait out a flurry of weather.

The bird’s plumage marks it as a juvenile, likely hatched the previous summer. Instead of the blue-gray back and fine rufous barring of an adult, this hawk wears brown upperparts patterned with pale, teardrop-shaped spots and a buffy, vertically streaked breast. In the first image, where the bird faces forward through a lattice of branches, those bold brown streaks on a whitish background are especially clear. The eye is yellow rather than the deep red of a mature adult—another reliable sign of youth. Over the next year or two, those eyes will darken and the plumage will transition to the cleaner, more uniform adult pattern.

In this first image, the hawk faces forward, squarely watching the yard.

The long tail, visible in the rear views, shows broad, dark bands and a pale tip. That tail is not just decorative; it is the rudder that lets the hawk brake, pivot, and surge forward in tight quarters. The posture here—upright, alert, feathers slightly fluffed against the cold—suggests a bird conserving heat while remaining ready to launch. In winter, energy balance is critical. Each failed chase costs calories, and each successful one must pay back the effort many times over.

In this second image, the hawk looks over its shoulder, scanning.

Cooper’s Hawks specialize in birds roughly the size of starlings, doves, and jays, though they will also take small mammals. Feeders unintentionally simplify the hunt by bringing many potential targets to a predictable spot. The hawk’s presence does not mean the feeder is “bad” for the ecosystem; rather, it shows the food web functioning in real time. Predators follow prey, and prey follow resources. In snowy conditions, when natural seed and cover are harder to find, that concentration effect is even stronger.

Click me for my Cooper’s Hawk photograph on Getty Istock.

The sequence of images reads like a brief behavioral study. In the first, it faces forward, squarely watching the yard. In the second and fourth, the hawk looks over its shoulder, scanning. In the third, it turns again, keeping its head in near-constant motion—classic raptor vigilance. Accipiters often hunt by surprise, bursting from cover rather than soaring and stooping like falcons or buteos.

In this third image the hawk turns, keeping its head in near-constant motion—classic raptor vigilance.

Winter also shapes the hawk’s relationship with humans. Juveniles, in particular, are more willing to explore unfamiliar structures and take calculated risks. A feeder roof is not a natural perch, but it offers height, stability, and a clear line of sight. Over time, many individuals learn the rhythms of a yard—when sparrows or doves are most active, where cover is thickest, where escape routes lie. Some succeed and stay; others move on.

In this fourth image, the hawk looks over its shoulder, scanning.

From a broader natural history perspective, this bird represents a conservation success story. Cooper’s Hawks suffered declines in the mid-20th century due to pesticide use, but populations rebounded after bans on DDT and related chemicals. Today they are again common across much of North America, including upstate New York, occupying forests, edges, and increasingly suburban landscapes.

Watch Cooper’s Hawk behaviors in this video.

The file metadata anchors this encounter in a precise moment—February light, a cold morning, a quiet pause between hunts. The images, however, capture something timeless: a young predator learning its craft, reading the winter landscape, and testing the boundaries between wild and human-made spaces. For the backyard observer, it is a reminder that even in the most familiar settings, the ancient choreography of predator and prey continues, written in feathers, snow, and a long, banded tail poised for flight.

Enter your email to receive notification of future postings. I will not sell or share your email address.

Explore Louisa Duemling Meadows: Nature and Conservation

The Louisa Duemling Meadows celebrate conservation and biodiversity, showcasing vibrant flora and honoring Louisa Duemling’s legacy as a steward of nature.

MichaelStephenWills11 Comments

The Louisa Duemling Meadows, nestled within the expansive embrace of Sapsucker Woods, offers a vibrant tableau of life, brimming with opportunities for exploration and a sense of wonder. This new trail, winding through golden fields and punctuated by bursts of wildflowers, whispers tales of the land’s natural and cultural heritage.

Louisa Duemling: A Steward of Nature
Louisa Duemling, the meadows’ namesake, was a dedicated conservationist and philanthropist who supported the Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s mission to protect birds and their habitats. Her legacy lives on in these serene fields, where her commitment to preserving the environment is reflected in every thriving plant and songbird.

Black-eyed Susans: The Meadow’s Golden Treasure
Dominating this summertime landscape with their radiant yellow petals and dark central disks, Black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta) are a hallmark of the meadows. These cheerful blooms are a delight to the eye, a cornerstone of meadow ecosystems. As members of the Asteraceae family, their composite flowers serve as a rich nectar source for pollinators like bees and butterflies, ensuring the vibrancy of these fields.

Historically, Black-eyed Susans have been used in traditional medicine by Native American tribes for their putative anti-inflammatory properties. Their ability to thrive in diverse conditions also makes them a symbol of resilience and adaptability.

A Symphony of Green and Gold
Walking through the trail, one is greeted by the harmonious interplay of goldenrods (Solidago spp.), milkweeds (Asclepias spp.), and asters (Symphyotrichum spp.). Goldenrods, with their feathery clusters of yellow blooms, are often mistaken as allergenic culprits, though it is the inconspicuous ragweed (Ambrosia artemisiifolia) that deserves this reputation. Milkweeds, with their milky sap and delicate pink or white flowers, are vital to monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus), serving as the sole food source for their larvae.

Among these botanical wonders, the birdhouse stands as a sentinel, a reminder of the intricate relationship between flora and fauna. These wooden structures provide safe havens for cavity-nesting birds like Eastern Bluebirds (Sialia sialis) and Tree Swallows (Tachycineta bicolor), fostering biodiversity within the meadow.

A Horizon Framed by Pines and Clouds
The open meadow trails, flanked by clusters of Eastern White Pines (Pinus strobus) and punctuated by the azure sky, invite reflection and renewal. This is a place where the human spirit can align with the rhythms of nature, where each step reveals new layers of beauty and discovery.

Embracing the Spirit of Discovery
To wander the Louisa Duemling Meadows is to immerse oneself in the timeless dance of life. The trail, carefully marked yet wild in essence, invites visitors to lose themselves in its beauty while finding solace in its quietude. This is not just a path through nature—it is a journey into the heart of conservation and a celebration of the life that thrives under Louisa Duemling’s enduring legacy.

As you leave the meadow, carry with you not just the memory of golden flowers and vibrant skies but the inspiration to cherish and protect the natural world. The Louisa Duemling Meadows are not only a gift to those who walk its trails but a reminder of the profound impact one can have in preserving our planet’s fragile beauty.

Enter your email to receive notification of future postings. I will not sell or share your email address.

A Bonnethead’s Final Moments on Cocoa Beach

The narrator discovers a dying bonnethead shark on Cocoa Beach, reflecting on its ecological role and the cycle of life and death in the ocean.

MichaelStephenWills22 Comments

The evening ebb tide had left behind more than just a fresh line of seaweed and broken shells. As I walked along Cocoa Beach, the cool sand beneath my feet, a small shape caught my eye near the water’s edge. At first, it looked like detritus tossed ashore by the restless ocean. But as I stepped closer, I saw the unmistakable outline of a shark—its pale, twitching body lay on the damp sand.

Stopping to bend and examine it, my breath caught as I recognized its flattened, shovel-shaped head. This was a bonnethead shark (Sphyrna tiburo), one of the smallest members of the hammerhead family. Its eyes, positioned far apart on either side of its head, stared blankly at the sky. A thin film of seawater still clung to its sleek, streamlined body, reflecting the golden light of the rising sun.

Its scientific name, Sphyrna tiburo, reveals much about its nature and form. Sphyrna comes from the Greek σφῦρα (sphyra), meaning “hammer,” a fitting reference to the distinct shape shared by all hammerhead sharks. The species name, tiburo, is thought to have originated from an indigenous or Spanish term for small sharks found in the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico. Together, these words encapsulate the bonnethead’s identity—a hammer-shaped predator of the shallow seas, yet one that stands apart from its larger, more formidable relatives.

Named for its distinctive cephalofoil—the flattened, bonnet-like shape of its head—Sphyrna tiburo plays an essential role in maintaining the balance of marine ecosystems. As a mid-level predator, it helps regulate populations of crabs, shrimp, and small fish, preventing any one species from overpopulating and disrupting the delicate food web. Unlike most sharks, the bonnethead is also partially omnivorous, consuming seagrass along with its usual diet of crustaceans and mollusks. This unique feeding behavior contributes to the health of seagrass beds, which serve as crucial habitats for many marine creatures.

Bonnetheads are harmless to humans, known for their non-aggressive nature and their surprising diet—unlike most sharks, they eat not just crustaceans and fish, but seagrass as well. Gentle foragers of the shallows, they are common in Florida’s coastal waters, where they glide just beneath the surface, their unique head shape helping them detect prey buried beneath the sand.

But this one would swim no more. It was too late. Whether it had fallen victim to a fisherman’s discarded catch, an injury, or something unseen—disease, pollution, or fluctuating ocean temperatures—it was impossible to tell. All I knew was that this creature, so perfectly adapted to the rhythms of the sea, had been cast ashore by forces beyond its control.

A wave surged forward, washing over the shark’s still body, as if the ocean itself fruitlessly nudged it to life. The rising tide swirled, lifting the bonnethead and carrying it back into its world.

As I stood watching the tide pull it away, I felt a strange mix of sorrow and reverence. The sea is full of life, but it also takes life in its endless cycle. The bonnethead had played its part in that vast, unknowable story.

And now, it was gone.

Enter your email to receive notification of future postings. I will not sell or share your email address.

Lessons in the Woods: A Grandfather’s Nature Walk

On a crisp September morning, a grandfather leads his grandsons on a nature walk, discovering the mysteries of the forest. Together, they encounter a curious caterpillar and uncover the wonders of the natural world.

MichaelStephenWills14 Comments

Unseasonably warm September morning air gently stirred the leaves as I guided my grandsons, Sam and Rory, through our woods near Freeville. Our boots crunched softly on the damp earth, and the sounds of nature enveloped us like an old, familiar melody. Today we were on a mission of discovery, with Mother Nature as our guide.

“Grandpa, look at this!” Sam called, excitement radiating from his face. Rory, always close behind his older brother, crouched down, his bright eyes scanning the ground for any movement. I smiled. Sam’s sharp curiosity and Rory’s quiet attentiveness reminded me so much of myself at their age, exploring the woods.

We stopped at a patch of earth, where the boys had found a small hole in the ground, evidence of something recently disturbed. “Do you think it’s a mole, Grandpa?” Rory asked, his voice a mix of wonder and uncertainty.

“Maybe,” I said, leaning down beside them. “Or it could be something larger, like a chipmunk. These woods are full of surprises.”

As they explored further, I glanced at the trees, their trunks coated in a rich tapestry of moss and lichen. Then, something caught my eye—a familiar white and black figure on the bark of a young tree, I’ll call it a hickory.

“Hey, boys, come over here for a second. I’ve got something to show you,” I called, my voice calm but laced with excitement. Sam and Rory, ever eager, bounded over. “Look at this caterpillar.”

Their faces lit up when they spotted it. “Whoa, it’s so fuzzy!” Sam exclaimed.

“Yeah, but don’t touch,” I warned gently, kneeling to get a better look. “This little guy is called a Hickory Tussock Moth Caterpillar. See those long white hairs? Some of them can irritate your skin. Always good to admire from a distance.”

Rory looked up at me, wide-eyed. “What does it turn into?”

I smiled. “That’s the magic of it. This caterpillar will eventually become a moth, a Hickory Tussock Moth, in fact. But right now, it’s preparing for a long journey. In just a few weeks, it’ll spin itself a cocoon and wait all winter before emerging as a moth in the spring.”

Sam squinted at the caterpillar, studying its every bristle. “So it’s it’s going to sleep for the winter?”

“Exactly,” I said, pleased with his understanding. “It’s one of nature’s ways of resting and preparing for something new.”

The boys stared at the caterpillar in silence for a moment, and I could tell their young minds were spinning with thoughts. Maybe they were thinking about their own journeys—how each season brought something new to learn, something new to experience.

As we moved on from the caterpillar, deeper into the woods, I couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of gratitude. These moments, small as they may seem, were the kinds of memories that last a lifetime. I was passing down not just knowledge but a love for the natural world, a connection to the earth that I hoped would stay with them long after I was gone.

We finished our adventure with planting two oak saplings. The boys dug in the rich soil, each working carefully as we prepared a young sapling to take root. I watched as they placed the sapling into the earth, their hands gentle yet sure. Together, we packed the soil around its base.

“You know,” I said softly, “these oaks will grow just like you two. Stronger every year. And one day, you’ll bring your own children here to see it.”

Sam and Rory exchanged a look, a flicker of understanding passing between them, and I knew the lesson had landed. Nature has a way of teaching us that growth, whether in a tree or in ourselves, takes time and patience.

As we packed up to leave, I glanced back at the hickory tree where the caterpillar still clung, a tiny, determined creature, preparing for the change to come. In that moment, I felt the same sense of wonder I’d seen in the boys’ eyes earlier. Even after all these years, nature never ceased to amaze me.

“Come on, boys,” I said, with one last glance at the woods. “Let’s see what other adventures await us.”

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Beachcombing on Cocoa Beach: A Moon Snail Encounter

Join me in reliving the enchanting evening on Cocoa Beach where my wife and I discovered a rare, intact Atrina rigida shell. Dive into the world of this fascinating bivalve through our story of ecological wonder and natural beauty.

MichaelStephenWills8 Comments

 

The first light of dawn painted the horizon in soft hues of pink and orange as I strolled along Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida, the heart of the Space Coast. It was winter 2017, and the cool breeze carried the salty scent of the ocean. My eyes scanned the sand for treasures, remnants of the ocean’s bounty washed ashore by the relentless rhythm of the tides.

The beach was a mosaic of shells, fragments of marine life that had completed their journey. Among them, a particular shell caught my eye – the Moon Snail or Necklace Shell, scientific name Naticidae, known for its smooth, spiraled form and glossy finish. The shell I found that morning was bathed in the early light, its curves reflecting the phases of the moon, hinting at the mysteries of the ocean from which it came.

The scientific name of the Moon Snail, belonging to the family Naticidae, finds its roots in the rich tapestry of classical languages, reflecting the distinct characteristics and historical context of these marine gastropods. The family name, Naticidae, is derived from the genus Natica, which in turn originates from the Latin word “naticula,” meaning “a little buttock.” This whimsical etymology is thought to describe the round, smooth, and somewhat globular shape of the Moon Snail’s shell, which can resemble a small, rounded form akin to a buttock.

The genus Natica was first described by the French naturalist Jean-Baptiste Lamarck in the early 19th century. The suffix “-idae” is a common ending used in zoological nomenclature to indicate a family level in taxonomy. Moon Snails are known for their distinctive appearance, with large, rounded shells that often have a glossy surface and intricate patterns. The family’s name not only captures the physical traits of these snails but also highlights the historical practice of using descriptive and sometimes playful terms in the classification of organisms.

As I admired the shell, memories of previous beachcombing adventures flooded back. The Moon Snail’s elegant design has always fascinated me, symbolizing both beauty and predation. The shell’s form, with its deep umbilicus and polished surface, is a testament to the life it once harbored.

 

Shell of the Moon Snail (Naticidae) found in the surf wash. Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida

 

This winter past, January 2024, I enjoyed a rare sight – a live Moon Snail washed up on the shore. The small, compact form was nestled in the sand, its body partially retracted into its shell. I carefully picked it up gently. The snail’s soft, pale brown body contrasted with the hard, glossy shell, a perfect example of nature’s duality.

Observing the snail closely, I could see its large foot, a muscular organ that it uses for locomotion and burrowing into the sand. The foot’s underside, called the sole, was slightly sticky, aiding in its movement. The snail’s head, with its small, retractable tentacles, peeked out cautiously. These tentacles are equipped with sensory organs, allowing the snail to explore its surroundings and detect prey.

Moon Snails are predatory creatures, and their diet consists mainly of other mollusks. The snail’s mantle, a fleshy part of its body, secretes the shell and also houses the snail’s siphon. The siphon is used for breathing and detecting chemical signals in the water, crucial for hunting. The snail’s radula, a toothed, tongue-like organ, is a formidable tool for drilling into the shells of its prey. The Moon Snail wraps its large foot around its victim, creating an acidic environment that helps it bore a hole into the shell. This process can take several hours, after which the snail consumes the soft tissue inside.

Can you spot the work of the Moon Snail on these waves washed shells? Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida

Aware of the snail’s delicate nature, I decided to return it to the surf. I tossed the creature far into the surf. It was a small act of conservation, a gesture to ensure that this remarkable creature could continue its journey.

Reflecting on the encounter, I felt a deep connection to the natural world. Beachcombing is not just about collecting shells; it’s about understanding the lives they represent and the intricate ecosystems they are part of. Each shell tells a story of survival, adaptation, and the relentless cycle of life and death in the ocean.

Cocoa Beach, with its endless horizon and rhythmic waves, is a sanctuary for these stories. The Space Coast, known for its technological achievements and space exploration, also offers a window into the ancient, natural world that thrives beneath the waves. The juxtaposition of human advancement and natural beauty is striking, reminding us of our place in the larger tapestry of life.

As I left the beach that January 2024 morning, the sun climbing higher in the sky, I carried a renewed appreciation for the ocean’s wonders. The delicate balance of predator and prey, the seamless integration of form and function, and the ongoing dance of life – all captured in the spiral of a Moon Snail shell.

 

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Watching with the Willows

On a brisk day at Stewart Park, I stroll alongside Cayuga Lake, observing Canadian Geese and white willows. The tranquil, interconnected scene proves an enduring memory despite everyday worries.

MichaelStephenWills9 Comments

Continue reading “Watching with the Willows” →