Part 1 of this series is here, and the event that led to my writing it is discussed here. I now expect to write 2-3 additional posts on this topic and may create a new page that summarizes the whole series. I’ve hidden the Bark Scaling Gallery page to be reworked later or incorporated into the summary.
This post will reiterate, revise, and expand upon earlier ones dealing with bark scaling and woodpecker anatomy. The next one will focus on certain characteristics of the scaling we think is being done by Ivory-billed Woodpeckers, on finer details that characterize it (based in part on comparison with work done by congeners), and on how to differentiate it from bark removal done by squirrels. The following entry will deal with bark chips in more depth, and from a slightly different angle than previous posts on that subject.
I had originally intended to address the next post’s planned content in this one, but as I started writing, I realized the long but necessary introduction would bury the lede. It soon became clear that I’d have to divide the post in two with this one for background.
The first important point is that woodpecker taxonomy is in a state of dramatic change, so much so that the American Ornithological Union is being advised to place Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers in separate genera and that their current genus, Picoides, should be divided into four. Notwithstanding the taxonomic upheaval, there’s no question that Campephilus woodpeckers and Dryocopus woodpeckers are only distantly related, that their similarities are the product of convergent evolution, and that these similarities are far more superficial – involving size and coloration – than structural or behavioral. Formerly, some incorrect taxonomic assumptions led to the lumping of Campephilus and Dryocopus into the “tribe” Camphelini, an idea that’s discussed and dismissed in the first paper linked to above. This has been one factor in perpetuating some fairly common and persistent misconceptions – that the two species are closely related, that they occupy or occupied the same ecological niche and might be competitors, and that hybridization might be possible (something I hear surprisingly often).
The following differences are relevant to this discussion:
- Bill size and shape. These are dramatically divergent as any comparison shot of specimens makes clear. It’s also worth noting that the three North American Campephili are closely related to each other. DNA analysis suggests the three are distinct species and the Cuban ivorybill may be more closely related to the Imperial Woodpecker than the mainland US species. This study suggested that divergence among the three took place between .08 and 1.6 million years ago. The southern members of the genus are more remote cousins, having diverged approximately 3.9 million years ago. At one time, the southern species were considered a distinct genus, and they have smaller bills, both objectively and relative to body size. Magellanic Woodpeckers have the smallest bills relative to body size in the genus, and their foraging behavior is more Dryocopus-like than their congeners’.
- Neck length. The much longer neck of the ivorybill allows for a broader range of motion.
- Foot and leg structure. Campephilus woodpeckers have a unique variation on what have been called pamprodactylous feet. (Wikipedia and David Sibley both miss the vast difference between Campephilus foot structure and that of most other woodpeckers.) In this genus, the hallux (first) and fourth toe (the rear toes) are both on the outer edge of the foot; the toes can be rolled forward for climbing and backward for perching in a manner that looks more zygodactylous. (The preceding links to images of Sonny Boy, the juvenile ivorybill, and Kuhn are great illustrations.) The fourth toe is highly elongated, the longest toe on the foot, and the hallux, (in the ivorybill, the outermost toe) is relatively longer than in any climbing woodpecker species. The second and third (innermost toes) are angled inward. This is shown quite clearly in a number of the images from the Singer Tract, including Plate 13 in Tanner.
- Dryocopus woodpecker feet are closer to being truly zygodactylous – two in front, two behind, with limited mobility and the hallux as the inner rear toe, although the fourth toe can be rolled outward to some extent; this provides less stability when making lateral blows.
In addition, Campephilus woodpeckers typically climb and forage with their legs both farther apart and higher relative to their bodies than Dryocopus. This enables them to keep their lower bodies closer to the trunk and move their upper bodies more freely, providing more stability for making powerful, lateral blows.
4. Tail structure: the ivorybill’s tail feathers are long, thin, barb-like, and stiffer than the pileated’s. The tail serves as an anchor and also helps allow for a broader range of motion.
5. There other structural differences, including wing shape, but these are the main ones that point to how Ivory-billed Woodpeckers have evolved in a way that makes bark scaling their most efficient foraging modality, whereas Pileateds are far better suited to digging, using a perpendicular motion.
Much of the foregoing is based on Walter Bock’s analysis of woodpecker adaptations for climbing, which was also discussed in depth here. I’ve tried to explain Bock’s key points in straightforward and less technical terms. A longer quote from Bock appears at the end of this post.*
In addition to these structural differences, Pileated Woodpeckers (and to the best of my knowledge all their congeners) regurgitate when feeding young. Campephilus woodpeckers carry food to the nest and appear to be highly dependent on beetle larvae when caring for their nestlings. This means that Pileated Woodpeckers have to ability to take advantage of multiple food sources during nesting season, while Ivory-bills have a more limited range of options. While I don’t think this supports Tanner’s theory of old-growth dependence, it does point to a higher degree of specialization that would impact numbers, range, and suitability of habitat.
At the same time, the anatomical differences and degree of specialization convince me that certain types of feeding sign are beyond the physical capacity of a Pileated Woodpecker and are likely diagnostic for Ivory-billed Woodpecker.
There is a dearth of clear images showing Ivory-billed Woodpecker feeding sign. There are a handful of photographs, most of them very poor. The majority were taken in the Singer Tract and some showing work on pines were taken in Florida by Allen and Kellogg. Few of them depict the high branch work that Tanner described as being characteristic, and when they do, there’s virtually nothing that can be discerned from them. It is also not entirely clear that Tanner’s attribution of feeding sign to ivorybills was always based on direct observation, which makes us wonder whether some of the work might actually have been done by squirrels. Regardless, this makes it difficult to draw inferences from the existing body of imagery.
That said and with awareness of the perils in extrapolating, one lesser known image from the Singer Tract is worth comparing with the work on boles that’s been discussed in multiple posts.
“The Blind at Elm Rock”, Ivory-billed Woodpecker nest tree and detail showing scaling and excavation on trunk. Courtesy of the Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library
This is a view of the 1935 nest tree, which was a red maple. It’s taken at a different angle than the more familiar shots, so it shows some large areas of scaling on the bole that the others do not. While I can do no more than infer that this was done by ivorybills, it’s clearly old, and there’s an abundance of excavation in the underlying wood; nevertheless, the edges and contours of the scaling are strikingly similar to the work we’ve found on boles, especially the area at the lower right, just above the intervening foliage.
This is the jagged appearance I described in the previous post; the similarities are most evident in the picture below and on the home page.
Because there are so few informative images of ivorybill feeding sign, the best available option is to look at the work of other Campephilus woodpeckers. Even though they are not as closely related as the Cuban ivorybill or the imperial, their morphology and foraging behaviors are similar; even the work of the smaller-billed but oft-photographed magellanic can provide some clues. I’ll examine this and some probable identifying features of squirrel scaling in the next post, which will take a close look at scaled patches on trees.
*”. . . in most woodpeckers, as, for example, the pileated woodpecker, the legs are held more or less beneath the body,the joints are doubled up,and the tarsus is held away from the tree trunk. This position of the legs is disadvantageous for the bird, because the body is held away from the tree trunk and the muscles of the leg are working at a mechanical disadvantage; the analogy is to the mountain climber who is standing on a narrow ledge with hand holds only beneath his chest. In the ivory-billed woodpecker, the legs are directed away from the center of the body, and the tarsus is pressed against the tree trunk. This method allows the body to be held close to the tree, with the joints of the leg extended. Hence the leg muscles have a mechanical advantage, because they are at the beginning of their contraction cycle and are acting along the length of the segments of the leg. When the body is held close to the trunk, it not only decreases the outward component of gravity but allows the tail feathers to be applied to the supporting surface for a greater distance from their tips. If the bird is climbing on smaller limbs, the feet can encircle the limb and thus obtain better support. However, no matter what size the limb is, the disposition of the legs and the spreading of the toes of the ivory-billed woodpecker furnish direct and powerful resistance to both the lateral and backward motions of the woodpecker when it is at work and, with the tail, furnish a tripodal base of great strength against the pull of gravity.”
Update: This post includes hard data about the extent of old growth in the Singer Tract (scroll down past all photographs) and in ivorybill home ranges. The general points made below remain valid, although some of the wording is perhaps too strong; Tanner overestimated the amount of old growth in the Tract ( at “over 80%” v. 72% in fact), and the Mack’s Bayou home range was predominantly second growth.
This post is a companion to the previous one and to others discussing habitat conditions in the Singer Tract. Those posts reference Richard Pough’s 1944 report to the Audubon Society. Pough, whose study was never published, noted that much of the Singer Tract had actually been under cultivation prior to the Civil War. But it’s worth taking a closer look at just how much.
Tanner characterized the Singer Tract as “the largest tract of virgin timber in the Mississippi Delta,” contending that it contained “120 square miles of virgin forest in 1934”. He also wrote that the largest plantation “had about 3000 acres under cultivation,” while suggesting that “some of the early settlers along the Tensas River cleared land along the river banks for cotton fields.” Thus, the myth of the Singer Tract as virgin forest was born.
It’s not clear where Tanner got his information, but some of his characterizations are not supported by the historical record; the language about “early settlers” almost seems disingenuous when one looks at the history of Madison Parish. (Rootsweb has many pages devoted to this subject, and I’ve drawn heavily on them for this analysis.) As should become evident, there was a great deal of human activity in and around the Singer Tract, especially prior to the Civil War. I will suggest that most, perhaps virtually all, of the arable land in the parish, had been cleared for agricultural purposes and that the Singer Tract was a mix of second growth and remnant old growth, most of which was in the lower-lying, wetter areas that Tanner deemed to be less suitable for ivorybills.
A 1937 Masters thesis in economics by Robert L. Moncrief, “The Economic Development of the Tallulah Territory”, provides a great deal of information about the parish and its history. In the post-Columbian era, the area was very sparsely settled until the 1830s. Madison Parish was established in 1839, and in 1840, steamboats began plying the Tensas River. A major population influx began in 1836, and the population kept growing until the Civil War, going from 5,142 in 1840 to 14,133 in 1860. The war led to a dramatic decline to a mere 8,600 in 1870. Over the next couple of decades, the numbers grew again to 14,135 in 1890. Changing economic conditions and the boll weevil outbreak caused another decline that was only reversed between 1920 and 1940, when the number of residents reached 14,826. By 2010, it had fallen to 12,093.
Cotton and the quality of the soil drove this influx. By 1850, there were 27 landowners in the parish who owned more than $20,000 (over $590,000 in 2015 dollars) worth of real estate. The largest holding was valued at $140,000 (well over $4,000,000 in today’s dollars).
According to Moncrief, “the newcomers cleared away the heavy forests and planted the new ground in the favored crop then, as now –– cotton. They cleared all the lands fronting water courses (which are the highest and most desirable lands for cultivation in this region) to form a continuous line of plantations along the streams.” Streams in this context refers not just to the Tensas but also to the smaller non-navigable bayous. Cotton raised along the smaller streams was brought down to the Tensas in flat-bottomed boats.
Moncrief’s thesis also includes figures for cotton and corn production in Madison Parish. Cotton production peaked at over 46,000 bales in 1858. (Pough was apparently incorrect in stating it was over 100,000 bales; he may have combined the total with that of an adjoining parish.) It had fallen to 1,830 by the end of the war. Production recovered between 1870 and 1875 and reached a postwar/pre-boll weevil peak of 25,981 bales in 1890, about the same level of production as in 1936. Corn production peaked at 618,620 bushels in 1859, falling dramatically after the war, peaking at 836,000 bushels in 1909, and then falling to 320,000 by 1936. My crude, back of the envelope estimate based on yields of 5 bales per acre for cotton and 15 bushels per acre for corn, suggests that between a quarter and a third of the total acreage in the Parish was under commercial cultivation prior to the war.
While Moncrief’s paper evokes Tanner by describing the Singer Tract as 81,102 acres (126 square miles) of virgin timber, it also notes, “The tract includes several abandoned and grown up plantations, which after the Civil War, reverted to the state and were later sold to the present owners.” The ruins of one plantation house are still standing, deep within the Tensas National Wildlife Refuge.
While it was adjacent to and not strictly part of the Singer Tract, the story of the Frisby Plantation is illustrative. The plantation was established in the early 1850s with land acquisitions taking place over the next decade. Norman Frisby, the founder, was murdered by his nephew by marriage in an 1863 in a dispute over property. When Frisby’s widow was forced to sell the plantation in 1870, it totaled 19,479 acres, and its crops generated over $77,000 in revenue (the equivalent of $1.36 million in 2015). Tanner visited the site of the plantation and photographed one of its old fields. I haven’t been able to pinpoint the location of the old house; one 19th century survey survey seems to place it in Tensas Parish, near Fool’s River. Another account (from the history of the Sharkey Plantation discussed below) says it borders Disharoon (or Dishroom) Bend, much closer to the core of the Singer Tract. As shown on this overlay of 1875 land ownership on a modern map, the Frisby holdings included parcels adjacent to Mack’s Bayou and on Dishroom Bend.
The maps help flesh out the story. An earlier and incomplete parish-wide map of patentees shows that many parcels in the Singer Tract were purchased well before Frisby started acquiring land in the 1850s. Lands purchased in the 1840s include parcels along John’s and Mack’s Bayous, which makes sense since frontlands along streams were most desirable. This history of the Sharkey Plantation reveals that land sales began in the heart of Tanner’s search area during the 1840s. The author explains that the Sharkey plantation and others like it were more like communities, with a cluster of families (and presumably their slaves) living in close proximity, near a watercourse. The 1875 map shows that much of the Singer Tract remained in private hands even after many parcels were abandoned during the Civil War.
Perhaps even more telling is this hand drawn map of Madison and Carroll Parishes from 1862. It shows the locations of towns, roads, ferry crossings, and plantations in the Singer Tract area. While it is incomplete and John’s Bayou is not shown, Sharkey Road is there, cutting in a southwesterly direction from the Richmond-Carthage road, crossing Alligator Bayou, and the Swearingen parcel. Another road crosses the heart of the Mack’s Bayou home range and the Tensas itself. The map delineates abandoned plantations and appears to show that, except for those abandoned areas, some cotton was being grown in every division of the Singer Tract. However limited the agricultural activity may have been in these sectors, the area was hardly a primeval wilderness; habitat had been fragmented; and old growth conditions were likely restricted for the most part to areas unsuitable for farming.
This passage from an 1885 article from the New Orleans Times-Picayune sheds some additional light on conditions in the area both before and after the Civil War. “But little has been said about Tensas River and Joe’s Bayou as, but little interest is there as compared with former years. Before the war there was a continuous planting interest all along those two streams but overflows and the war left them to grow up into weeds and bushes. In 1870 Mason, and later Loyd bought cattle from other parts of the country and carried them to those bayou places for pasturage, wherein a few years they made large sums of money. This was in the neighborhood of Quebec, which before the war was a flourishing little city, shipping 7090 bales of cotton. It was at the junction of the Tensas River and the railroad. It is now a waste place and to pass there on the railroad you would never know that a town had been there.” (In The Race to Save the Lord God Bird, p.76 Hoose plays into the virgin forest myth by claiming that railroads “finally reached the Tensas River sometime around 1900.”) Quebec was just a few miles outside the tract, near Bayou Despair, where Tanner listed a pair from 1934-1936.
The Rootsweb pages provide a couple of additional and important pieces of information.
Theodore Roosevelt visited Madison Parish in 1907. Roosevelt’s descriptions provide added detail about conditions in and around the Singer Tract several decades after the Civil War. According to Roosevelt:
“Beyond the end of cultivation towers the great forest. Wherever the water stands in pools, and by the edges of the lakes and bayous, the giant cypress loom aloft, rivalled in size by some of the red gums and white oaks. In stature, in towering majesty, they are unsurpassed by any trees of our eastern forests; lordlier kings of the green-leaved world are not to be found until we reach the sequoias and redwoods of the Sierras. Among them grow many other trees–hackberry, thorn, honeylocust, tupelo, pecan, and ash. In the cypress sloughs the singular knees of the trees stand two or three feet above the black ooze. Palmettos grow thickly in places. The canebrakes stretch along the slight rises of ground, often extending for miles, forming one of the most striking and interesting features of the country. They choke out other growths, the feathery, graceful canes standing in ranks, tall, slender, serried, each but a few inches from his brother, and springing to a height of fifteen or twenty feet. They look like bamboos; they are well-nigh impenetrable to a man on horseback; even on foot they make difficult walking unless free use is made of the heavy bush-knife. It is impossible to see through them for more than fifteen or twenty paces, and often for not half that distance. Bears make their lairs in them, and they are the refuge for hunted things. Outside of them, in the swamp, bushes of many kinds grow thick among the tall trees, and vines and creepers climb the trunks and hang in trailing festoons from the branches. Here, likewise, the bush-knife is in constant play, as the skilled horsemen thread their way, often at a gallop, in and out among the great tree trunks, and through the dense, tangled, thorny undergrowth.”
The most salient point here is that Roosevelt’s “great forest” applied to low-lying areas in which there was standing water (something that Hoose glosses over). Roosevelt also saw three Ivory-billed Woodpeckers:
“The most notable birds and those which most interested me were the great ivory-billed woodpeckers. Of these I saw three, all of them in groves of giant cypress; their brilliant white bills contrasted finely with the black of their general plumage. They were noisy but wary, and they seemed to me to set off the wildness of the swamp as much as any of the beasts of the chase.”
A photograph from the hunt is here. Tanner seems to have been unaware of the Roosevelt encounter. Roosevelt’s visit came just 17 years into cotton farming’s second decline and 52 years after the end of the Civil War. Habitat conditions are likely to have been poorer in general than when Tanner was there 3 decades later. The relative ease with which Roosevelt saw three ivorybills (despite their wariness) suggests they were not uncommon in 1907 and calls Tanner’s assumptions (pp. 48-50) about fire, tree death, and population influxes between 1911 and 1930 into question.
There’s another gem in the Rootsweb pages. It’s not directly on topic, but it relates to Tanner’s later dogmatism. In arguing for extinction and dismissing post-Singer Tract reports, many of which involved birds being flushed from tree stumps or other locations near the ground, Tanner characterized this behavior as being characteristic of pileateds not ivorybills.
Rootsweb has a newspaper account of T. Gilbert Pearson‘s visit to the Singer Tract in 1932. Pearson (who was President of the Audubon Society at the time) was the first ornithologist to confirm the presence of ivorybills in the Tract. He saw, “The birds . . . feeding on stumps of rotting trees, the tops of which had been broken off. A favorite place for feeding is also on dead limbs at or near the tops of the very tall sweet gum trees found abundantly in this region.”
The evidence that relates directly to Tanner’s study area and its immediate environs suggests that claims about “virgin forest” and IBWO dependency on old-growth are based on flawed premises. The Singer Tract was no doubt a remarkable place, a huge area of contiguous and relatively undisturbed forest, but it’s clear that much of it was not old growth or “virgin”.
It’s more useful to think about what the Singer Tract is likely to have offered Ivory-billed Woodpeckers – some measure of seclusion, enough big trees for roosting and nesting, and an abundance of standing and fallen deadwood. The myth that the Ivory-billed Woodpecker required vast tracts of “virgin” forest may be emotionally compelling, but it’s not based on evidence; it’s time to put it to rest.
I’m looking forward to spending a week in the field starting just after Christmas.