- Do you have questions about birds, bugs, bees, butterflies or other wildlife? Send your questions to Wild Things and we will try to find the answers.
Greg H. asks: “I grew up in Somerville. In the 1980s and 1990s, there were zero rabbits around here. None … From 2009-2013, I lived in Vietnam, where I worked as a teacher. When I came back, around the end of 2013, rabbits were everywhere. And they have been everywhere ever since. Do you know if the rabbits that are all around the city are native to the area? Were they reintroduced?”
First, let me speak to the easy part: The rabbits you see are eastern cottontails. They are not native to our region of North America. People introduced them to our area in the late 1800s, and they are now the most common rabbit in Massachusetts.
Our native is the New England cottontail, which prefer foods that grow in young forests: goldenrod, chickweed, wild strawberries, buttercups and so on. Dense old forests prevent these foods from growing, though. New England cottontails are becoming scarcer due to maturing forests and development of our remaining forests.
Eastern cottontails, on the other hand, are very adaptable and willingly move into open spaces such as parks and backyards. Over time, they have increased their range, and they outcompete New England cottontails in shared ranges.
Rabbit populations can fluctuate wildly from year to year. Harsh winters and heavy spring storms can kill many; favorable weather and abundant food can lead to explosive growth. But since rabbits are the fast food of the animal world, an increase in the population leads to higher reproduction among predators. This in turn leads to a decline in rabbit populations.
The fact that you didn’t see eastern cottontails before but you see them now may indicate that eastern cottontails have expanded their range into your neighborhood and others, where they once were absent. (Feral cats were once more common in urban areas than they are today, and these cats may have discouraged rabbit settlement.)
Ovenbird
The ovenbird (Seiurus aurocapilla) is an olive-colored warbler with the habits of a thrush. It prefers to spend its time rustling through the leaves on the ground rather than flying near the treetops chasing insects with the other warblers. It wanders along on the forest floor, scattering leaves to look for beetles, ants, spiders, snails, worms, ticks and caterpillars. Not surprisingly, this bird’s preferred habitat is woods thickly carpeted with dead leaves.
About the size of a sparrow, an ovenbird has a distinctive call. Males sing loudly and relentlessly during breeding season to claim a territory and to attract a mate. Many birders say the call sounds like “teacher, teacher, teacher.” I think the call sounds more like “teach, teach, teach, teach,” but maybe my ears are old.
Why call it an ovenbird? In my mind, a turkey could reasonably be called an ovenbird, since it is commonly roasted in an oven; this bird is too small for such nonsense. No, the name comes from the shape of its nest. A female ovenbird weaves a nest on the ground in a small depression. She covers the nest with a domelike lid of grasses, sticks and leaves. The birds enter and exit the nest through a small opening on the side. Early colonists thought the nest looked like a bread oven, also called a beehive oven because its domed shape reminded them of a beehive.
According to the Cambridge Chronicle of Aug. 10, 1901: “In May the golden-crowned thrush builds a nest of leaves and grasses on the ground, shaped like the snow huts of the exquimaux [Eskimo], or an old-fashioned oven – hence his other name of oven-bird.” (People do not call this bird a golden-crowned thrush anymore because scientists have determined that it is not a thrush – but it does have a golden crown.)
Because female ovenbirds build a nest on the ground, they must be careful with its placement. Chipmunks prey on young ovenbirds, so the female avoids building a nest anywhere near a location where she hears chipmunk calls.
Because ovenbird nests are not in trees, chicks do not need to learn to fly before they can leave. They have figured out how to exit by only eight days old. Soon they flutter about on the forest floor. In a few more days, they are able to fly. The parents feed the chicks for four more weeks, and then the youngsters are independent, hunting among the leaves on the forest floor.
Ornithologist William Brewster once described ovenbird habits:
The mixed flocks of small, insectivorous birds which roam our upland woods during the month of August seldom fail to include Oven-birds … They are among its least conspicuous members, for they spend most of their time on or very near the ground, rambling about among the woodland plants, often beneath the shelter of dense undergrowth. Apparently they pay no heed to the movements of the throng of Warblers, Vireos and Titmice which are actively foraging among the upper branches of the trees, but whenever the flock moves on, the Oven-birds are sure to follow. Thus, although they do not often actually mingle with the other birds – at least with the more arboreal ones – they nevertheless keep them close company.
Ovenbirds arrive in our area from their overwintering grounds in the Caribbean in April or May. Look for them in wooded areas. By late August some early migrants will be heading south, but others will wait until October to leave our community.
Reader photo
Thomas Purdy recently spotted this orchard spider in Lambertville, New Jersey.
Have you taken photos of our urban wild things? Send your images to Cambridge Day, and we may use them as part of a future feature. Include the photographer’s name and the general location where the photo was taken.
Jeanine Farley is an educational writer who has lived in the Boston area for more than 30 years. She enjoys taking photos of our urban wild things.
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