A few birds from the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta.
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Lapland Longspur:Lapland Longspur Mararmiutaq If you like sexy “little brown birds,” this is the one for you. It is known in English as a Lapland longspur because of its unusually long rear toenail and the area of Europe, Lapland, where it was first described. Lapland is located in the northernmost region of the Scandinavian Peninsula, and is inhabited by Lapps (who actually call themselves Saami, by the way). Its scientific name, Calcarius lapponicus, means much the same as the English, although some might be tempted to translate it as, “long-nailed Laplander.” Longspurs (not Laplanders) are members of the finch family, which is the largest of all bird families in North America, with 83 species. Names are fascinating, aren’t they? So while I’m on the topic, let me tell you what I’ve learned about the Yupik names for this little brown bird. As far as I know, “Mararmiutaq” is the name most commonly used to refer to the Lapland longspur in the Yukon Delta region, although in Hooper Bay I was told the name was “Nacaukuparaq.” “Mararmiutaq” translates as “lowland tundra dweller,” which perfectly describes its nesting habitat. During my spring walks on the open tundra, both in Marshall and on the coast, I always found these handsome birds showing off their colorful plumage. This is where the Hooper Bay version of the name comes in. “Nacaukuparaq” refers to the male’s attractive “parka hood” outlined by the flowing shape of a river. Look at it closely in a bird guide, or through a pair of binoculars, and you’ll see what I mean and also why I’m partial to this poetic name. Now that you’ve seen a picture of the male longspur (or the real thing), you’ll have to agree that he is absolutely the sexiest of all the little brown birds in the neighborhood. Check out the rusty-red and black and white colors of his hood, and also his black apron while you’re at it. Even the much drabber female has prettier coloring than most of her cousins. But I don’t want to mislead you. As soon as the breeding season is over, the male becomes a Cinderella and loses his sexy plumage, eventually taking on the camouflage colors of his mate. Let’s not end this tale so soon, though. In the spring, as the males arrive and quickly stake out their territories on the tundra, the females take note as potential suitors tear after each other and feathers begin to fly in the establishment of nesting boundaries. After territorial ownership has been established and successfully defended, the feisty males, their testosterone flowing, begin their courting. This is when I most like to watch them. The male repeatedly flies up into the air for about 100 feet or more, tucks his wings in like a falcon in a dive, then gently sails down to the ground, landing in the same spot each time. As he begins his downward trajectory, he sings his musical courtship song, a sweet tinkling sound that often continues after he lands on his tundra home. Once the female has been impressed enough to accept his overtures and finds a good hiding place for a nest, the male starts the second phase of his courtship and offers her nest materials in his bill. If she accepts, he knows he’s got it made, and the third phase of courtship I leave to your vivid imagination. The nest is made comfortable by the female with materials like grasses and mosses; hairs of lemmings, voles, dogs, caribou and rabbits; and feathers of raven, ptarmigan and other birds found in the tundra. Things now begin to move especially fast, since summers in the north are brief. In short order, Mrs. Longspur lays 4-6 pale green-white eggs marked with what look like hieroglyphic black scrawls, which she broods for only 13 days, when, presto!, little featherless beasties with bulging skin-covered eyes break out of the shells and begin gobbling a never ending feast of mosquitoes, caterpillars, spiders and other insects supplied by both mother and father. Within ten days, the young have left the nest, and two days later they stretch their wings and take their first flight. What a great feeling it must be for them to defy gravity -- and so rapidly, compared to larger birds like cranes or geese. Finally, after another week or so of intense coaching, the longspurs are on their own. At this stage, both male and female young resemble their mother, except for her more anorexic shape. Having been so busy feeding and tending her fledglings, she hasn’t paid much attention to her figure. She must now gain back all of her lost weight, however, so she can soon make the long migration south to warmer climes, where she and the rest of her species will enjoy the winter months ahead.   |
