Western Great Lakes Bird and Bat Observatory

Headquarters at Forest Beach Migratory Preserve

Citizen Science


Article by Kate Redmond

Forest Beach Migratory Preserve was created to be a resting and refueling place for migrating birds as well as a productive habitat for breeding species. It turns out that what’s good for the birds is good for other wildlife, too. A number of rare dragonflies and damselflies have found their way to the preserve, and with more eyes on the place, it’s only a matter of time before others are discovered. Eight of the 42 species on the property list are rare visitors.

Late summer is both a great and a challenging time for dragonfly watching. Great because some of our larger species like darners and saddlebags dominate the air space. Challenging because these dragonflies often fly for a long time without stopping, and when they do rest, they perch vertically, down in the grass or on woody plants. And they’re jumpy; in order to get a picture -- or even a good look at them -- you have to see them before they see you. 

Saddlebags are called saddlebags because of the pigmented area on the wings on either side of the abdomen. Red, Black, and Carolina Saddlebags are in the “broadsaddle” group, so-called because their irregularly shaped saddles are wide. Black Saddlebags are common at Forest Beach from mid-summer on; Red Saddlebags are a little less common; and Carolina Saddlebags, rare visitors to Wisconsin from the eastern and southeastern United States, have been spotted at the preserve fairly regularly. 

On September 11, 2018, I photographed a fourth saddlebags at the preserve, a Striped Saddlebags (Tramea calverti), and two weeks later, I found another one there, a different individual. Striped Saddlebags, named for the conspicuous stripes on the thorax, is a tropical species. Individuals are considered vagrants or accidentals here, not regular migrants. (Only about 15 species of dragonfly are.) As a result, they’re a most-wanted species among dragonfly enthusiasts in Wisconsin. There are small, resident populations in far South Florida and along the United States-Mexico border, but the dragonflies are more at home through Central and South America, the Galapagos, and the Bahamas. The moral of the story is, “If you see a saddlebags with red saddles, look twice.” 

Striped Saddlebags are in the “narrowsaddle” group because the smooth-edged saddles don’t extend very far into their wings. Striped Saddlebags wander farther north than other narrowsaddle saddlebags.

As vagrants, Striped Saddlebags have some big flight years and other years when they stay home, but when they do travel, it’s not uncommon for them to move in small groups. A huge flight occurred in 2010, when an article on the Cape May Bird Observatory’s blog View from the Cape described the area, in New Jersey, as “Swimming in Striped Saddlebags.” Striped Saddlebags also appeared in Michigan, Minnesota, and Ontario. There were widespread sightings in 2012. 

The Wisconsin Odonata Survey lists 19 Striped Saddlebags sightings since the first records in 2012, when it was seen in five counties. Of the 19 sightings, 14 are from four southwestern counties along the Mississippi. Along with the individuals seen at Forest Beach in 2018, Striped Saddlebags were recorded Kenosha County in early September and in La Crosse County in late September. 

The life cycle of a Striped Saddlebags mirrors that of other saddlebags. Females prefer to deposit eggs in shallow, open, fishless ponds with lots of floating vegetation, and the young dragonflies (naiads) live under water, feeding on any aquatic invertebrates that they can tackle. Mature naiads crawl out of the water, often under cover of darkness in order to avoid predators, rest, and then split the back of their exoskeleton and pull their body out. When their wings are fully extended and hardened, the young dragonflies are ready for flight. 

Both male and female Striped Saddlebags were present at Forest Beach in the fall of 2018. Are there naiads waiting for the water to warm in 2019, or would these tropical dragonflies be too sensitive to survive under the ice? Stay tuned.

For more information, see the article “Rare Dragonfly at FBMP” in the Observatory’s May-June 2017 newsletter.


By Kate Redmond

When your property list tops 250, the next birds you add tend to be the unexpected species, and that was the case for Forest Beach Migratory Preserve’s 256th species.

In early April, a Trumpeter Swan was spotted on one of the Preserve’s ponds by Waterbird Watch Technician Calvin Brennan, whose usual beat is an observation blind on Lake Michigan at Harrington Beach State Park (http://birdbatclone.ecowebdesign.accountant/what-we-do/waterbird-watch). The swan’s presence celebrates an avian success story.

At four-and-a-half to five-and-a-half feet long, with a wingspread of more than seven feet, and weighing in at 15 to 30 pounds (females are smaller), Trumpeter Swans (Cygnus buccinator) are the largest waterfowl in North America and our heaviest flying bird. The Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources great kids’ website EEK aptly describes them as “a big, beautiful, white bird.”

Trumpeters can be mistaken for our native Tundra Swans (called “Whistling Swans” in older bird books) and for the non-native Mute Swan. Season (we don’t expect to see Tundra Swans in Wisconsin in the summer, but Mute Swans are present), size, posture, and bill color help distinguish the three. For identification tips, see http://www.trumpeterswansociety.org/swan-identification.html. The much-smaller Snow Goose is white, but it has black wing tips, and so does the somewhat-larger White Pelican.

The word buccinator in the Trumpter’s scientific name is Latin for “to trumpet,” and the swan’s call is described as a deep, resonant, and trumpet-like “oh-OH’.’” Swans have a variety of vocalizations that help them to stay in contact with other birds, advertise their territory, and signal alarm (http://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/trumpeter-swan). 

Historically, Trumpeter Swans bred from Missouri, Illinois, and Indiana through northern Canada and wintered as far south as Texas. John Lawson, exploring North Carolina in 1701, wrote, “Of the swans we have two sorts, the one we call Trompeters...These are the largest sort we have...when spring comes on they go the Lakes to breed. The sort of Swans called Hoopers; are the least.” Explorers in the Detroit River area of Lake Erie during the same period wrote, "There are such large numbers of swans that the rushes among which they are massed might be taken for lilies.”

In 1933, the known population of Trumpeter Swans in the wild dipped below 70, and concerned wildlife biologists swung into action. Trumpeters had been hunted nearly into extinction for their meat and feathers and for their skin, which was used for powder puffs. They were also harmed by the overhunting of muskrats and beavers, whose dams and lodges provide nest platforms for the birds. In the early 1950s, to the relief of conservationists, a previously unknown Pacific population of a few thousand birds was discovered in Alaska.

Trumpeter Swans, which had not been recorded in Wisconsin since 1937, were listed as a State Endangered Species in 1987. As part of the recovery plan, eggs were collected from nests in Alaska, flown to Wisconsin, and incubated at the Milwaukee Zoo. The young birds were then released after being acclimated to the wild. Wisconsin’s population numbers more than 5,000 today, mainly in our northern and central counties. For a great story about the early days of the Wisconsin recovery effort, see http://www.wisconservation.org/white-trumpeter-swans-make-impressive-comeback/.

Starting in the late 1960s, Trumpeters have been surveyed every five years in the continental United States. The 1968 survey found 2,572 birds; 6,206 were seen in 1980, 18,486 in 2000, and 34,249 in 2010. The most recent count (2015) tallied 63,016 birds, documenting a remarkable comeback. The swans now nest in the upper Midwest and western Great Lakes and in some areas of the Dakotas, the Rockies, and far northwestern North America.

Trump range map


The Miraculous Monarch

Monarchs by KR MonCat by KR

Monarchs by Kate Redmond  

By Kate Redmond

Ecologically speaking, putting almost all of your eggs in one basket is a really bad idea. 

Quick review: Monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus) feed on a variety of flowers but lay their eggs only on plants in the milkweed family. The bright, aposematic (warning) colors of both the butterfly and its caterpillar alert potential predators to back off. (Poisonous milkweed sap renders the caterpillar toxic, and it carries its toxicity into adulthood.) 

Monarchs migrate. Let’s unpack that simple, two-word sentence, because the biology behind it is complicated (and miraculous), and whole books have been written about it.

There is a Pacific population of Monarchs that migrate only as far as southern California in winter (though some free spirits have wandered as far as Hawaii and beyond), and there are year-round breeding populations in the Florida peninsula and along the Rio Grande. Historically, all of the migratory Monarchs east of the Rockies overwintered on a dozen or so smallish sites in the oyamel fir forests of the Central Highlands northwest of Mexico City. 

Monarchs usually return to Wisconsin by mid-May. Researchers don’t know whether the late migrations recorded in the past few years are random events or are due to climate change. Once they get here, there are several short-lived generations that serve to produce more Monarchs, but in mid-August, a generation is produced that uses its energy to migrate rather than to procreate. This final brood, called the Super-generation or Gen 5 (the fifth generation removed from Mexico), is exceptionally long-lived and is the only generation that is tagged for migration studies. Experiments suggest that “host plant quality” (Monarch caterpillars prefer tender, young leaves, not the leathery plants of late August), decreasing day length, cooler overnight temperatures, and the changing tilt of the earth combine to flip a switch in the Monarch’s brain (which is about the size of the head of a pin). Wherever Monarchs are, they are cued to start moving south when the sun recedes to around 57 degrees above their southern horizon. (They migrate along the shore of Lake Michigan.)    They navigate using an internal “sun compass” that allows them to adjust their orientation in relation to the sun’s movements across the sky, and they probably also sense magnetic fields with their antennae. This allows Monarchs in Michigan, Maine, and Montana to set correct (but different) flight plans for central Mexico. 

The butterflies move south in the fall, spending the winter some 1500 miles south of Wisconsin. Monarchs eat little on their wintering grounds, depending on fat reserves built up during their leisurely migration. (A newly emerged butterfly has about 20 mg of fat in its body, but a Monarch newly arrived in Mexico carries 125 mg of fat.) In spring, signaled by warming temperatures and the availability of milkweed, Monarchs become reproductively ready and head back north, being careful not to outpace the emerging milkweed plants. They lay eggs in the southern tier of states, and their offspring continue the journey.

The spectacle of Monarch butterfly migration is one that inspires international awe (and, not surprisingly, sometimes-invasive ecotourism), and the drastic decline in Monarch numbers over the past decade has resulted in quite an outcry. Some numbers: In the mid-1990s, an estimated one billion Monarchs migrated to central Mexico, with another million counted in California. Today, the entire population is estimated at 56.6 million—a decline of more than 80%. (A 2013 World Wildlife Fund count was 33 million.) During the winter of 1996-97, wintering butterflies covered 21 hectares (one hectare is just under 2.5 acres). In 2013-14, they occupied only two-thirds of one hectare of forest, and 80% of the butterflies were found on just a few sites. Predictions for this year, if all the ducks stay in a row, are more optimistic, but far from rosy.

What’s happening? In a nutshell:  


Monarch survival depends on favorable weather in their summer range, during migration, and on the wintering grounds. The extreme weather events associated with climate change will affect Monarchs negatively—cold, wet winters; a warmer climate in Mexico that may negatively impact the oyamel fir trees; large storms or stubborn frontal systems at the start of the spring migration; and prolonged heat and drought that shorten the blooming periods of flowers (and therefore the availability of nectar), especially in plants that the butterflies depend on during migration. (Remember 2012, when even the prairie plants looked wilted?) 

It’s cold up in the mountains, but wintering Monarchs can tolerate cold temperatures if they’re dry, and they burn fewer calories idling in cool weather. Rain or snow that wets the butterflies, followed by freezing temperatures, are a one-two punch, especially in January and February, when butterfly thoughts are turning northward and their fat supplies are waning. In the winter of 1995, snowstorms on the wintering grounds caused greater than 60% mortality. As the butterflies headed north in the spring of 1996, el Nino delivered heavy rains in the southeastern United States, and more died. In 2002, 2004, and 2010, huge Pacific weather systems brought heavy rain, hail, and frigid air into the wintering areas, decimating the Monarch population. The 2002 storms resulted in a 75% casualty rate.  


Although the Mexican government has banned logging in the area, illegal logging continues to nibble away at the oyamel forests, which affects the microclimate created by the trees’ canopy and allows greater temperature fluctuations within the forests. The trees are also threatened by bark beetles. North of the Rio Grande, commercial-urban-suburban development is replacing Monarch habitat at a rate, according to one source, of 2.2 million acres per year (6,000 acres a day). The biofuel movement accounts for some of this loss, with land being taken out of the Conservation Reserve Program to produce corn to make ethanol. The tricky part, of course, is balancing the needs of the Monarchs and the needs of the people who live in the area.  


The Corn Belt produces more than half of the Monarchs that migrate to Mexico. Common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) is their food of choice, but common milkweed is disappearing, largely due to today’s agricultural practices. Crops like corn and soybeans are genetically modified so that they can survive exposure to herbicides like Roundup, allowing farmers to spray more often. (Crops are in the works that will have multiple resistances.) Sprayed chemicals often drift past the borders of agricultural fields, and roadside flowers become collateral damage. Neonicotinoid insecticides kill agricultural pests, but innocent bystanders are also exposed to this neurotoxin when they nectar on adjacent wildflowers. 

The clean farming trend that advocates removing fence rows and non-agricultural vegetation between cultivated fields leads to the loss of native plants and wildlife, and roadside mowing takes a toll, too. Milkweed is slow to regenerate, and one study suggests that 60% of milkweed has been eliminated from the grassland ecosystem in the Midwest (http://www.mlmp.org/results/findings/pleasants_and_oberhauser_2012_milkweed_loss_in_ag_fields.pdf). The tricky part, of course, is balancing the needs of the Monarchs against our desire for inexpensive food.


Ophryocystis elektroscirrha (OE) (http://monarchparasites.uga.edu/whatisOE/) is a protozoan parasite that infects only Monarchs and the related Queen butterflies. One theory is that Monarchs pick up the protozoan from the leaves of tropical milkweeds that don’t die back in the winter and so have a longer period to harbor the parasite and its spores. Female Monarchs pass it on to their eggs and to the plants they land on, and caterpillars ingest it as they feed. Most of the damage is done during pupation, and emerging adults are covered with spores. Infected adults may simply be less fit (the long migration south is Darwinian natural selection in action), but a heavily infested Monarch may have difficulty emerging from its chrysalis and may have deformed wings. OE was first noted in South Florida and has been around for almost 50 years, and although it’s been found in all of the populations of Monarchs, the highest rates of infection are found in non-migratory groups (reaching 70% in South Florida). The infection rate in eastern migratory Monarchs is between 7% and 8%.  


There were three hurricanes and two tropical storms at the start of the 2017 fall migration period https://monarchwatch.org/blog/2017/09/15/forgotten-victims-of-harvey-the-pollinators/.. The fall migration of 2017 along the Atlantic Coast was late, with some butterflies lingering into late October and even early November, lulled by unseasonably warm weather, the late migrants left susceptible to storms and freezes.  

Chip Taylor at Monarch Watch (https://monarchwatch.org/) issues frequent updates about Monarch populations. As of March 18, World Wildlife Fund Mexico in collaboration with CONANP and the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve, announced the total forest area occupied by overwintering Monarch colonies. Nine colonies were located, with a total area of 2.48 hectares, a 14.77% decrease from the previous season. 

He also says, “we need a comprehensive plan on how to manage the fragmented edges and marginal areas created by development and agriculture since it is these edges that support Monarchs, many of our pollinators, and the many forms of wildlife that are sustained by the seeds, fruits, nuts, berries, and foliage that result from pollination.”  


The plight of the Monarch has energized people and organizations across the country. The Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve, which contains most of the overwintering sites, was created in 1980 and declared a World Heritage Site in 2008. The International Union for Conservation of Nature declared Monarch migration as a Threatened Phenomenon, and the US Fish and Wildlife Service is considering adding Monarchs to the Endangered Species list. Monarchs are expected to benefit from the 1,500-mile-long “Butterfly Highway” proposed by President Obama as part of his efforts to help native pollinators (http://www.csmonitor.com/Environment/2015/0522/How-Obama-s-butterfly-highway-paves-way-to-save-embattled-monarchs). 

The Monarch’s population plunge has been publicized by (among others) the National Wildlife Federation, the Defenders of Wildlife, the Xerces Society, World Wildlife Foundation, USDA Natural Resources Conservation Service, the Natural Resources Defense Council (suing the EPA over pesticide regulations), and a whole bunch of newspapers and periodicals. The US Fish and Wildlife Service is committing $20 million for habitat restoration over five years. The Monarch Joint Venture (http://www.monarchjointventure.org/) is a partnership of federal and state agencies, non-governmental organizations, and academic programs working together to support and coordinate efforts to protect the Monarch migration across the lower 48 United States. And there are many grassroots organizations. 

WHAT YOU CAN DO (among other things):

* Plant native milkweed. (You’ll be able to choose from three native species at our plant sale during our World Migratory Bird Day celebration.)

* Plant flowers for butterflies to nectar on. (At our plant sale, we’ll also be selling native nectar plants that adult Monarchs rely on.)

* Join the growing number of people who collect Monarch eggs from vulnerable locations (like the paths of mowers) and raise them indoors for release (instructions on-line).

* Refrain from celebrating a birth or death by releasing commercially raised butterflies.

* Be ultra-cautious in your use of pesticides.

  * And be a citizen scientist—that is, add your observations of eggs and adults to the data at Monarch Watch (http://www.monarchwatch.org/) and/or the Monarch Larva Monitoring Project (http://www.mlmp.org/).

Such a fragile balance. "The Monarch butterfly unites the three countries of North America in peace. It is an ambassador of peace which requires protected areas and ecosystems that are preserved through sustainable agricultural and forestry practices. Let us continue to work together to maintain a healthy and balanced ecosystem for all North America."—President Jimmy Carter








The Migratory Bird Treaty Act Is 100 Years Old!

Tundra Swans by JT

Tundra Swans by Joel Trick

By Kate Redmond

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, a landmark piece of legislation aimed at protecting birds.

To set the stage, at the beginning of the 20th century, bag limits on waterfowl and other game birds were generous (if they existed at all), sometimes allowing hunters to take as many as 75 ducks daily for 150 days. Birds were killed, an estimated five million annually in the late 1890’s, for their feathers, used in women’s hats and other fashion items (https://www.npr.org/sections/npr-history dept/2015/07/15/422860307/hats-off-to-women-who-saved-the-birds). 

In some areas, it was a tradition to see how many birds you could shoot on Christmas Day. (This “Christmas Side Hunt” inspired Frank Chapman to launch an alternate tradition: the Christmas Bird Count, in 1900.) Wood Ducks had disappeared from much of their historic range. The Passenger Pigeon, which darkened the skies in uncountable numbers into the mid-1800s, was gone, the victim of habitat destruction and massive overhunting. (Pigeons were shot even while sitting on eggs, and the plump fledglings were killed before they could leave the nest.) The last Passenger Pigeon had died in the Cincinnati Zoo in 1914.

The Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 (MBTA) united the United States and the United Kingdom (on behalf of Canada) in an effort to protect migratory birds, dead or alive, by making it illegal to “pursue, hunt, take, capture, kill, possess, sell, purchase, barter, import, export, or transport any migratory bird, or any part, nest, or egg or any such bird, unless authorized under a permit issued by the Secretary of the Interior;” and the Act also established the government’s role in codifying hunting regulations. It had its roots in the Weeks-McLean Migratory Bird Act of 1913, which attempted to protect songbirds and other migratory birds because of their value as controllers of insect pests. The MBTA passed with bi-partisan support, which it has enjoyed ever since. Like Passenger Pigeons, the number of birds that have benefited from the MBTA in the last century is uncountable.

There have been revisions of the MBTA since 1918. Mexico, Japan, and Russia have signed on; the law was broadened to provide protection for habitat; bird species, including some that don’t actually migrate, were added (and some, like the non-native Mute Swan, were removed); eagle feathers may be possessed by Native American tribes for religious ceremonies, and feathers may be used in Alaskan native artwork; and, controversially, an exemption was made for inadvertent killing of birds during military training and testing exercises. http://www.audubon.org/news/the-history-and-evolution-migratory-bird-treaty-act. Permits are issued for activities like hunting, falconry, taxidermy, education, research, and killing/removal of nuisance birds. 

Technically, the law makes it illegal to possess last year’s nests (though songbirds do not re-use them) and even feathers, potentially putting nature centers, Scouts, science teachers, and nature-lovers afoul of the law. Knocking down an occupied robin or swallow nest above your back door is also illegal, and MBTA protection even extends to 19th-century bird dioramas and to old nest and egg collections.

  Not everyone is in love with the MBTA. Birds face threats today that didn’t exist 100 years ago—wind farms, power lines, communications towers, oil spills, industrial wastewater ponds, etc. The MBTA allowed wildlife agencies to charge individuals who willfully took birds illegally, and it also provided an incentive for companies and utilities whose operations result in accidental kills (called “incidental takes”) to adopt “best practices.” The historic intent (and proven track record) of the MBTA has been threatened since 2015, when the US Fish and Wildlife Service, the agency that enforces it, announced their plan to reconsider prosecution of “incidental takes” caused by industry practices. In 2017, utilities and other businesses were exempted from accountability and enforcement under the MBTA for killing non-game, migratory birds. As the National Audubon Society points out, this removes any incentives for companies to protect birds.

  As of mid-April, 2018, the Interior Department announced that corporations or individuals whose actions result in the accidental killing of birds will not be prosecuted. In an article in the Washington Post, reporter Darryl Fears quotes from the new Interior Department guidelines: “the take [killing] of birds resulting from an activity is not prohibited by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act when the underlying purpose of that activity is not to take birds. ‘For example,’ the guidance said, ‘a person who destroys a structure such as a barn knowing that it is full of baby owls in nests is not liable for killing them.’ All that is relevant is that the landowner undertook an action that did not have the killing of barn owls as its purpose.”

Here’s the full list of protected species: https://www.fws.gov/birds/management/managed-species/migratory-bird-treaty-act-protected-species.php (the first half of the list is “alphabetical,” but if you scroll down about half way, the same birds appear listed taxonomically – ducks, loons, grebes, etc.  

For more information, see: