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| First
published in English in 1780, this traditional French medley glorifies the 12
days between Christmas proper and the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6. American
fans pay homage to Milwaukee’s Emily Brown who imported the tune in 1910 to brighten
a Wisconsin Christmas extravaganza. The lyrics of the traditional carol have been
variously interpreted as religious symbolism, examples of the bounties of each
month of the calendar year, and/or random accumulations of pastoral images. With
the academic jury still out on the “true” meaning of the Twelve Days of Christmas,
I’ve decided to reinterpret the song with a bit of Texas
flare: |
“Seven
swans a-swimming…” |
Tundra
swan "a-swimming"
Drawing
by Anton Wroblewski |
As
a silvery solstice moon reflects across the shimmering waters of a languid west
Texas river, a pair of tundra swans (Cygnus columbianus) eerily shimmer
as they glide along, “a-swimming” through their winter refuge as they have done
for possibly decades previous. The graceful couple began their avian marriage
in their third year of life: bonding to one another in a glorious “victory display,”
bowing heads and lanky necks while saturating the shallow brackish and freshwater
havens comprising their spring migrations northward with a harmonious duet of
melodious bugles. Their union fortified, the two returned to their natal grounds
amidst summer-flushed tundra ponds and lakes, which stretch across northerly arctic
climes, and set about the task of locating and defending a suitable territory.
Another cycle of autumnal and spring migrations separated the bonded birds from
their first attempt at nesting in this newly acquired breeding ground.
In the years to come, the ivory beacons of elegance persevere through early freezes,
delayed springs, and the predations of egg- and nestling-craving wolves, jaegers,
foxes, and gulls to generate the next wave of whistling-winged waterbirds. The
male swan staunchly guards his brooding mate as she tends to a solitary nest of
four to six creamy white eggs. Newly hatched signets are ushered to the safety
of bountiful pond margins and fatten on aquatic worms, mollusks, insects, stems,
seeds, and roots, all under the vigilant watch of two aggressively protective
parents.
As freshly molted swan feathers dance across the breezes that
whisper through July and August, the primary-lacking adults are grounded and pass
the days and nights afloat, surrounded by their quickly maturing offspring and
perhaps envisaging the sheltered tidal inlets and sluggish rivers that will chart
their journeys southward. In mere weeks, the magnificent pair, freshly feathered,
will sprint across the glinting waters, hoisting their 20 lb bodies into the cooling
Arctic air, and lead the youth of the year to their winter haunts, where they
will placidly “a-swim” as a family. |
Ant
maid tending to her aphid stock
Drawing
by Anton Wroblewski |
This
verse conjures up blissful images of pastoral scenes populated with lacey-bonneted
and ruffly-skirted young ladies merrily filling tin buckets with creamy pools
of dairy delight as black-and-white-blotched bovines placidly chew away at their
alfalfa-seasoned cud. Perhaps these dream-like visages of peaceful symbiosis between
dainty women and their dairy cow companions still unravel in some distant, organically-tended
rolling meadows buried in the countryside of a cooler-climated state, but the
residents of Texas are fortunate enough to have the
miniaturized versions of these farming customs at their front doorstep. The players
may not be as aesthetically pleasing on first impression, but their adaptive efficiency
and co-dependence is even more fascinating than that of their mammalian counterparts.
Free of the unnecessary accoutrements of frilly dress, the female workers of multiple
species of ants across the Lone Star state are master
milking maids…of aphids! Infamous as destroyers of household plants and vegetable
gardens, aphids are tiny insects that proffer sustenance by tapping into vegetation
and leisurely relying on the plant’s vascular system to pump its store of raw
sugars through the vampirous bug’s digestive system. Out the other end emerges
aphid poop oozing with excess sugars and wittingly referred to as “honeydew.”
The energy-supplying, fecally-distributed sugars are avidly sought after by ant
farmers, who gently stroke the bloated abdomens of their aphid stock to stimulate
the release of the sweetened, gooey droplets. Some aphid species have become so
dependent on their milking hymenopteran maids that they no longer possess the
ability to defecate on their own. Without the devoted attendance of their antennaed
ant keepers, the constipated aphids would perish.
Aphid-milking ants tend
to their insect herds as any human dairy farmer would oversee his/her fruitful
bovines. Honeydew-harvesters stand guard over their cattle, going as far as destroying
the eggs of aphid predators, such as ladybugs and other carnivorous beetles, when
the opportunity arises. As plant life withers under the pressure of gorging aphid
colonies, ant maids gingerly pluck the sucking insects from their vegetative attachments
and transport them to more fertile feeding grounds. When the chill of autumn escalates,
some sugar-milkers will ensure the health of their aphid flock by transporting
freshly-laid aphid eggs to their own winding tunnels. In subterranean safety,
the aphid germ are expertly stored in an environment with optimal temperature
and humidity levels, emerging within the protection and climate-controlled nursery
of the hymenopteran nest. Once the warm breath of spring creeps through the ant
colony, the freshly hatched aphid stock is ushered to host plants above ground
to begin honeydew production once again.
As with every seemingly mutualistic
biological system, one half of the equation may attempt to sway favor to their
own side to reap disproportionate rewards. On occasion, ant dairymaids resort
to physical and/or chemical manipulation of their stock rivaling BGH-wielding
factory farmers of the human world. Over the span of evolutionary time, aphids
have developed the ability to sprout wings amidst the stress of dense populations
and/or dwindling food sources. Flight appendages free the normally grounded insects,
permitting their mass exodus to the greener pastures of far off lands. Wings also
carry them away from their sugar-craving caretakers. Desperate to retain their
honeydew-producers, ant workers resort to ripping newly forming limbs of flight
from their aphid herd. Going one step farther, some ant species manufacture specialized
hormones to completely impede wing development and hamper the physical mobility
of the aphids under their supervision, preventing escape of their herd through
aerial and terrestrial means. Allelochemicals secreted from ant feet further placate
their aphid flock by acting as a narcotic and sedating the insect dairy into tranquil
complacency, ensuring an easy roundup and herding of any stock infected with wanderlust.
So, the next time you make a toast with your dairy-burgeoned holiday egg-nog,
know that you are not alone in your festive enjoyment of the back-end bounty of
a carefully tended flock. Somewhere, probably close at hand, are eight hymenoptera
maids a-milking and savoring the rich delights of their labor as well. |
Female
Wilson's phalarope foraging
Drawing
by Anton Wroblewski |
| Offering
a lesson to feminists the world over are nine Wilson’s phalarope (Phalaropus tricolor)
ladies dancing. These largest of the phalaropes are a polyandrous crew, the “ladies”
of the species coupling with several males, only to skip town when the parental
duties arise. However, it’s not all promiscuous fun for the girls. As the breeding
season approaches, the female phalaropes must abandon their saline winter refuges
warmed by a South American sun, flocking ahead of their prospective mates to cooler
freshwater marshes, shallow lakes, and wet meadows of northern Texas and other
sites throughout North America, whose grassy borders will soon shelter the next
generation of waders. Along the journey, their winter plumage will transcend to
brilliance as burgundy-hued feathers ascend along their necks and flanks. Already
physically larger than their masculine partners, female phalaropes in full breeding
coloration more than surpass the duller males as they stalk along vegetated banks,
searching for ideal nesting spots. Upon discovery of an idyllic natal crevice,
their dancing begins. Neck-stretching and feather-puffing displays ruffle through
the oestrogen-charged crowd as they defend their favored territories amidst the
arrival of their tardy beaus. “Up”ing their “game,” lady phalaropes take to the
skies in aerial pursuit of their mates of choice. Animated breeding displays ensue
as indomitable females compete through dance-offs for the favored fathers of their
future offspring. Both sexes accentuate the rhythm of the dance with nasal, soft
barking vocalizations that punctuate the spirited bowing and posturing of the
crimson-streaked females. Brazen lady waders claim their victory by copulating
with their manly prizes, an act that will ultimately culminate in the laying of
three to four eggs in a naked scrape hidden within a vegetated thicket adjacent
to watered abodes. While the male Wilson’s phalaropes tenderly adorn the natal
chamber with grasses and settle in for a future of incubation and precocial-child
care, the dancing ladies set their sights on alkaline lakes garnishing the backbone
of the Andes Mountains.
The migrating absentee mothers swap their seductive
gyrations for twirling aquatic ballets. Flanged toes propel the graceful hunters
as they whirl in vortex-generating circles, sucking up small crustaceans and hapless
insects from the bottom muck for easy surface consumption. Erratic mud-probing,
bill-snapping wading ventures, and aerial lunges for flying prey intermingle with
their pirouettes in the foraging maneuvers of these phalarope ladies as they dance
for their suppers.
To be continued ...
©
Bonnie Wroblewski, February 27, 2012 Column
http://www.dovekeywildlife.org |
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