Wildlife of DC: the White Squirrel?

Generally speaking, most eighth grade tours include a day, or a portion of a day, when we give kids time to explore the Smithsonian on their own, which is, of course, code for me to find one of my secret hiding spots and squeeze in a quick nap. Many, and at times most, of the students use this time to do take in some of what the Smithsonians have to offer and expand their horizions. Naturally, some choose at some point to hang out with each other and relax, which is quite understandable, as we put them through a full day, and then some, and everyone deserves some down time.

So last week, as I emerged from my secret lair, I ran into a group of my students hanging out by the kiosk on the Mall by Natural History, waiting for the appointed meeting time. This is a school I've worked with for several years now, and you don't want to enter into conversation with them lightly. Although only eighth graders, they are capable of penetrating questions, and won't be pawned off with platitudes. So forewarned, I waded in and chatted them up.

The conversation drifted, as conversations are won't to do, and I was holding court about the nature of squirrels in the nation's capitol. I went on in depth about my favorite: the black squirrel. Spellbound of course, as any person would be listening to me, one student then asked: what about white squirrels? I explained that you might see "white" squirrels, but as any fan of DC Like a Local knows, they are simply a genetic variant of the more common Eastern Grey Squirrel. Feeling quite pleased with myself, I was a bit surprised to be challenged when the kid continued: "but what about squirrels that are all white?" Well, simply put, I responded "if you did see one, it would have to be albino, and I've never seen one around here." To which he replied: "What about that one?"

Well, sure enough, right here on the National Mall, there was a white squirrel in all its glory, not fifteen feet away from where I was doubting its existence. Publicly. As I got over my seemingly weekly ritual of feeling like an ass, I muttered something about "rare opportunity to see an albino animal in the wild" and joined the rest of the thirteen year olds in snapping a picture with my cell phone. I was no longer in any position to lecture them.

So, if anyone else runs across this guy, let me know. I'm interrested in seeing how long a perfectly white squirrel lasts on the National Mall.

Wildlife of DC: Capitalsaurous

We've talked about wild animals that were pushed to the brink of extinction and came back, those that we've imported, and even those that couldn't make it in the world we've created. What do you all say, shall we take a break from how humans have interacted with the natural world and examine a creature who can't possibly blame us for its demise?

Somewhere over a hundred million years ago, in the Early Cretaceous period, a theropod walked a swampy, sweltering wetland in what is now Washington, DC. After managing to die, he was covered with silt and over the next few millenia he, or at least part of one vertebra, was preserved as a fossil. Then, just over a hundred years ago, in January of 1898, workers digging a sewer line in a swampy, sweltering wetland known as Washington, DC discovered said vertebra.

Excitement reigned, and the finder, one J.K. Murphy, donated the specimen to the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History, where, presumably, it rests to this day. Then, a little over a decade or so ago, Washington, DC decided to adopt Capitalsaurus as both it's state fossil, and it's state dinosaur. To cap it all off, we also named the intersection where the bone was found "Capitalsaurus Court". If you'd like, if you need a great place to take a picnic lunch to after your Capitol tour, stroll down 1st ST to the corner of 1st and F ST SE. After pausing at Capitalsaurus Court, continue across the street to Garfield Park, an excellent local park to take a break at if the kids are worn out and need a break.

And if you are wondering, Capitalsaurus would have looked like a somewhat smaller version of it's more famous distant cousin Tyrannosaurus Rex. And it would have totally kicked the ass of, then ate, its contemporary: Maryland's state dinosaur, Astrodon Johnsoni. So take that, Maryland.

Now, we've had a lot of fun with Capitalsaurus here in DC. In fact, we're quite proud of it. So I'll leave it to the kill-joys at the Smithsonian to tell us that this name is "not scientifically justified" and "has no validity". Ridiculous! Next you're going to try and tell me Pluto's not a planet.

Wildlife of DC: Passenger Pigeon

In yesterday's post (which despite its appearances was not edited by a poorly trained monkey) we talked about the Bald Eagle, a species that has traveled from the brink of extinction to the commonplace. Of course, not everyone was so lucky.

Let's talk about one of the species that once lived on the banks of the Potomac that will never be seen alive again, unless of course, we get that cloning thing up and running. It once existed in such numbers that they reportedly blocked the sun as they migrated overhead. The Passenger Pigeon was last seen in the wild around the turn of the last century and the last captive one, Martha, died on September 1st, 1914 at the Cincinnati Zoological Park. Incidentally, Martha is here in DC in the U.S. National Bird Collection at the Smithsonian, although not on display.

So what happened? How did a species that was once the most common bird of North America end up collapsing so completely? Many theories have been advanced, and it was almost certainly a team effort. Deforestation reduced it's habitat and of course played a part. It's entirely possible that infectious disease, such as Newcastle Disease helped them along. But mostly, the Passenger Pigeon was hunted extensively to provide meat to slaves in the South, as well as cheap meat for poor people in urban areas.

But on a more fundamental level, the Pigeon's problem was that it was a blithering idiot, evolutionary speaking (that's a technical term, by the way). It survived in great numbers because it needed to survive in great numbers. On an individual level, it had no defenses. It simply hoped that there would be so many other Pigeons that predators would be so full they couldn't possibly eat all of them. When humans ramped up hunting in the 19th century, they managed to kill in numbers never before seen, so many that the population collapsed. By the time zoos and naturalists attempted to save the species, they discovered that they would need breeding pairs in the thousands to resurrect the numbers required. Unlike the Eagles we discussed yesterday, it was not possible to bring them back with just a handful of pairs. So once the balance beam tipped, there was no righting it. Despite the best efforts of institutions such as the Cincinnati Zoo, the Passenger Pigeon never made it back.

But since it went extinct in an era with a madness for cataloging and categorizing nature, the Passenger Pigeon is not entirely absent from Washington, DC. While you cannot see Martha herself, a Passenger Pigeon is on display at the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History. It's a little out of the way, but worth a look. Head down to the ground floor, where the gift shops and cafeteria are, and head to the Birds of DC exhibit. Now, it's entirely possible that you have been to the Natural History Museum and have not seen this exhibit. It's even possible that you are a professional, licensed Tour Guide and not seen this exhibit. But that would be a mistake. It's one of those quirky, dated little exhibits that get passed over for dinosaurs, elephants, and giant whales. Go downstairs and spend five minutes looking at the birds in their wonderful, antique wooden display cases. And as you go in, look to your left. Right there at the top, next to the also extinct Carolina Parakeet, is an actual Passenger Pigeon. And to think, you came all this way and almost missed it.

Wildlife of DC: Bald Eagles

photo by Eric Kilby

Not so long ago, the only chance of seeing America's National Bird live in DC was a visit to the National Zoo. While still your best shot of seeing a live bird, the Bald Eagle is becoming widespread in wild around the Washington area, and if you keep your eyes open, you might see one.

What once was a sight to tell you kids about, has become almost commonplace. Just this weekend I saw several of them along the Potomac about an hour south of DC. And it's not unusual to sight one inside the city limits, either. Theodore Roosevelt Island in the Potomac is a popular place for sightings, and others have been seen throughout the city. My wife, who has no reason to lie, has even claimed to have seen one from our front porch on the eastern fringe of Capitol Hill, near the Anacostia River.

And as stirring as the sight is, it may become even more common in coming years. From only 417 nesting pairs in the Continental US in 19563, the population has rebounded so strongly that the Fish and Wildlife Service recently delisted them from the Threatened Species list. However, before you go out and grab a trophy, remember the Bald Eagle is still protected by the Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act. I'm looking at you here, National Harbor. So, with Federal protection and something like 10,000 mating pairs alive right now, can it be long before seeing a Bald Eagle is about as exciting as seeing a Squirrel?

Now, if you are not hung up on seeing a real one; catching a glimpse of a statue, engraving, picture, or some other impression of a Bald Eagle is hardly a challenge. In fact, the real difficulty may be taking a picture in DC without one. Thanks to their symbolic status, they're a very common design motif throughout the Federal City. My personal favorite: just up the way from the Bald Eagle Refuge at the Zoo, near the Bird House, is one of only fourteen original Eagles that once adorned Penn Station in New York City. And if anyone knows the story of how it ended up here, please forward it along, I've been wondering about that one for awhile now.

And no, before we close, Benjamin Franklin never proposed the Wild Turkey as our national bird, nor does the Bald Eagle shift his gaze on our Great Seal in times of war. But we'll talk more on that when we revisit urban legends later in the Fall.

Wildlife of DC: Black Squirrels

photo by geopungo

Yesterday, as we discussed the Grey Squirrel at great length, I alluded to the fact that they do not have a monopoly on DC, squirrel-wise. And a casual walk through DC, specially Squirrel-Central, Lafayette Park, will probably result in at least one sighting of the feared and dreaded "Black Squirrel of Death".

Breath normally though, these are simply a variant of our normal Eastern Grey Squirrels, a "melanistic variety" to use the proper terminology. It is thought that when the first settlers came to North America, the Black variant was the dominant one, greatly outnumbering their Grey cousins. In the shady gloom of a virgin forest, the darker coloring gave an evolutionary advantage to the Black ones. However, once settlers started clearing land, and more importantly, hunting squirrels, the darkness worked against them. Quite simply, in a sunny field, a black squirrel stands out.

So, outside a few pockets, the black ones were hunted and bred out of the entire Continental US. However, they retained their evolutionary advantage further north. In addition to the protective nature of the coloring, black retains heat better, giving them an advantage in colder climates.

But if they were all hunted out, how did they end up in DC? Well, in 1902, and again in 1906, the National Zoo received 18 Black Squirrels from the Department of Crown Lands of Ontario. Over time, they managed to spread from the Zoo into the surrounding neighborhoods. It's unclear if they were deliberately released or simply escaped. Presumably, breeding squirrels is much easier than, say, Giant Pandas, and so they may have just let the surplus go. Either way, they started to spread outwards from the National Zoo. The Smithsonian Museum of National History has a preserved specimen dating from 1917 from Cleveland Park. The 1923 Mammals of the District of Columbia notes that they can be found throughout the Cleavland Park area. Today, they've spread as far north as Ft. Meade, MD (30 miles), as far east as Annapolis (30 miles), and as far south Prince William County, VA (25 miles).

And not only have the Black Squirrels spread, they've become part of the local zeitgeist. Locals enjoy pointing them out, and visitors are fascinated by the, even more so than the ubiquitous Grey variant. Heck, there's even a bar named after them.