native hawthorns

with carmine-raspberry anthers, parsley hawthorn (Crataegus marshallii)

is perhaps the prettiest bloomer of all native hawthorns

The Rose family is impressively large, holding about 2,000 species comprising at least 100 genera worldwide. Of course the rose genus (Rosa) is the first that comes to mind, but the Roseaceae holds many others including the blackberries, peaches, pears, plums, cherries, and apples.

Most amazing of all the Rose family genera is Crataegus, the genus of the hawthorns. Hawthorns are small wiry-stemmed trees. Besides thorns (mostly on new-growth only) most Crataegus species possess smooth pale bark, fine white blooms in spring, a dizzying array of leaf shapes, and bear small, red, apple-like fruits. Most of the Crataegus species come from North America, indicating our continent as the primary evolutionary progenetor and epicenter of the group. There may be fewer Crataegus species in Asia, but Asians nonetheless love their hawthorns, using both the candied-fruits and foliage as heart medicine -- still quite popular today.

the barberry hawthorn (Crataegus berberifolia)

is a personal favorite.......

The whacky thing about the hawthorns lies in attempting to organize the members of the genus into discrete, distinct species. Hard to imagine! I mean, taxonomists have pretty comfortably named most all the plant and animal species in the world by now. But not all of the Crataegus, by golly. In their Manual of the Vascular Plants of Texas – which is an excellent botanical reference that includes most all of the species in Louisiana – authors Correll & Johnston mention “There are close to 1,000 specific proposals that have been made in this [Crataegus] . . . genus,” meaning that in many many cases no one is really sure about what individual groups or populations of hawthorns to call a species.

this hawthorn was on our property when we bought it......despite showing

it to a few professional louisiana field botanists, it remains unidentified.....

There said to be a lot of hanky-panky going on within the genus, as hybrids between known species are many. Moreover, there is rumor about that Crataegus hosts more than a few species capable – if I understand it right – of producing viable seed without the aid of fertilization. Within the genus Crataegus, this is sort of akin to hybridizing with one's self! As all of us fruit-growers out there know: it generally takes two (or more) of the abovementioned fruit trees for best fruiting to occur.

parsley haw foliage and fruits

(photo by Annette Parker)

Here in Louisiana, as late as 1998, botanists Dale Thomas and Charles Allen (Atlas of the Vascular Plants of Louisiana) counted up 13 hawthorn species for our state; perhaps the most widely-known of which is Mayhaw (Crataegus opaca/aestivalis), one of the few hawthorn species to produce fruit in spring. Most all other hawthorns produce fruit in fall.

depending on genetic strain, mayhaw fruits run between

dime and quarter-sized........

Birds, mammals, and some humans alike love hawthorn fruits. Of course, here in the South we love our mayhaw jelly just as dearly if not moreso than we do our muscadine grape (Vitis rotundifolia) jellly. And with good reason: where else are you gonna get something that's naturally sweet and sour, possessing a wonderful rose fragrance to boot?

Hawthorn blooms are outrageously fine, possessing tissue-thin white petals and numerous variably-colored anthers. Some species bloom singly, others in clusters. All bloom in spring.

mayhaw blooms

green hawthorn (Crataegus viridis; aka "hog haw") is a fairly common

bottomland forest edge inhabitant.....it occurs natively on our property

Small size tree, soil adaptable, gorgeous blooms, good fruit = great candidate for the garden, ya'll. The down side is native hawthorns are tough to find in nurseries. Don't be fooled by “Indian Hawthorn” (Raphiolepis indica), the Chinese native that most nurseries carry. Best bet is to wait on seasonal plant sales held by local arboretums, botanical gardens, master gardeners, etc. Several such sales occur throughout Louisiana each year during spring and fall.

eagle time down south...

one of North America's largest birds, an adult Bald Eagle can tip

the scales at nearly 10 lbs. and possess a wingspan approaching 7.5-feet



Toddy Guidry got these shots from the Bayou Black area during a recent Eagle Expo, a Bald Eagle celebration held in down in south Louisiana's St. Mary Parish each year.

Continent-wide, the Bald Eagle has been making a comeback over the past several decades – so much so, that it was taken off of the Endangered Species List back in 1995. The same holds true here in Louisiana, with steady increases in eagle sightings occurring statewide with each passing year. Louisiana annually hosts both the Northern and Southern subspecies of the Bald Eagle. Northern Bald Eagles nest far to our north, and visit Louisiana (mostly, the northern parishes) each winter. Southern Bald Eagles, on the other hand, actually nest throughout the U.S. Gulf Rim – including much of Louisiana – each winter, and spend their summer months far to our north.

Southern Bald Eagles show up in Louisiana each September, with breeding pairs often returning to the same nest site used in previous years. Young birds hatch in mid-winter, fledge from nests by March, and head north with their parents by April or May.

Bald Eagles are primarily fish-eaters.....

big birds need big nests....breeding pairs usually reuse the same nest,

refurbishing it each year.....older nests can weigh up to a ton....

The cypress swamps of southeastern Louisiana – Morgan City eastward through Houma to New Orleans – have traditionally served as our state's epicenter for nesting Southern Bald Eagles, with the areas of highest concentration usually focused around the large, shallow, “swamp lakes” where the fishing is best. Further west, the Atchafalaya Basin also holds lots of nesting eagles. More recently, nesting Southern Bald Eagles have been spreading nicely to most all points north and west, up through the Florida parishes north of New Orleans, and northward along the Mississippi River; and westward into the Mermentau River basin of southwestern Louisiana.

spring 2013 at prairie basse

Alabama snow-wreath blooms. . .

February 24, 2013 dawned crisp and bright here on the southern end of Prairie Basse in upper Lafayette parish, Louisiana. From our backporch vantage, the early-morning sun had lit up the white blooms of the Alabama snow-wreath (Neviusia alabamensis) there about 15-feet to our east on the coulee bank. The plant shone like a beacon right through the old camelia that we were sitting behind, along the still-shady northeastern porch rail. Whoa! In-your-face spring wake-up call . . .

So I had to get some plant pictures; and while I was out there, ran across this “winter clan” of anole lizards, catching some sun and having a drink. Several such winter clans live around our house and barn – always directly adjacent to south-facing walls. The elders of each clan prospect for good sites, sites which offer good protection from predators (winter lizards are slow-moving and vulnerable) as well as from chilly temps; but also offer good basking surfaces for warmer sunny days. More often than not, the same clan returns to the same “wintering hole” each year.

let the basking begin . . .

This particular clan crowds into a crevice at the corner of the house; spreading out on the siding when the weather's right. Of course, once the chilly weather goes away for keeps, the clan will split up into each individuals' designated territories.

Anyway, back to Neviusia alabamenses. The Alabama snow-wreath is a rather rare stoloniferous (spreads via underground stems) shrub indigenous to parts of northern Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, southwestern Tennessee, and southeastern Missouri. It is officially listed as “Threatened” in Georgia, Tennessee, and Arkansas, where populations of it are scant.

In the wild, this rose family (Roseacea) shrub grows on thin, circumneutral (pH 6.8-7.2) soils associated with shale or limestone cliffs, ridges, or slopes – the same sorts of places where oak-leaf hydrangeas really like to hang out.

much like its cousin, the blackberry, Alabama snow-wreath

gradually spreads into a loose, stoloniferous shrub . . .

Lydia and I got our start of this plant many years ago, from Margie Jenkins in Amite, LA. Our thick black clay happens to be circumneutral (pH ca. 6.85), and the plant took to it like a pig to slop. They say the plant is short-lived in the wild, but I know that our plant is at least 20 years old.

Ecologically, Alabama snow-wreaths seems to be a vestigial species – a sort of left-over from maybe the late-Pleistocene. You can tell by the disjunct/spotty nature of its wild distribution range through the southeastern U.S. Moreover, the genus Neviusia pretty much disappears from sight as one goes northward and westward through the continent . . . until, that is, you get to California and find the Shasta snow-wreath (Neviusia cliftonii) pretty much endemic to the Mount Shasta region only. I'd bet that once upon a time, the Alabama snow-wreath and the Shasta snow-wreath were one and the same species; and as climate changed the species suffered, causing a huge series of geographical gaps to develop between populations – until today, where it is a downright massive gap. 

winter warblers

Common as pig tracks down here on the Gulf Coast each winter, the Yellow-rumped Warbler announces its presence with a dull, unemphatic "chip" call note, uttered almost ceasessly -- after a winter's worth of hearing a few thousand of these birds, come March or April, most birders are (secretly) glad to see them go . . . (photo by Russ Norwood  www.perceptivist.com)



Through sheer geographical happenstance, Louisiana is a fantastic place for winter birding. Situated alongside the mitigating warmth of the Gulf of Mexico, and possessing water-rich landscapes, we remain chock-full of all sorts of tasty food items (berries & seeds, insects & other invertebrates, crustaceans, mollusks, fishes, small mammals, etc.) throughout the winter months. Too, our position midway between eastern and western North America results in receiving migrants from not only the middle of the continent, but also from both ends.


So all this sets the stage nicely for a big ol' wad of winter birdlife here each winter. To start, we have our own compliment of local year-round birds like herons, egrets, ibises, raptors, woodpeckers, and songbirds present in all seasons including, of course, winter. Then we have a whole 'nother group of waterfowl, raptors, shorebirds, songbirds, etc. that nest far to our north and migrate south to spend the winters here along the Gulf Coast with us. These, we refer to as nearctic migrants.

Next, we have a group of birds which regularly nest here each summer and migrate still further south into the tropics each winter. These, we call neotropical migrants. With some species of neotrops, we always get a few individuals who regularly overwinter as far north as the coastal counties and parishes here along northern rim of the Gulf of Mexico; and a few others, which, for reasons unknown, remain here, choosing not to migrate to their respective species' usual wintering grounds to our south. These, we call “lingerers.” Lastly, we annually host a group of migratory birds native to both the east and west coasts of the U.S. who get blown off course and simply end up here instead of their usual wintering grounds. These we call “vagrants” (personally, I prefer the term, “waifs”...but hey....). Obviously, this one would be the most exciting category from a bird watching perspective.

Down here in south Louisiana experienced birders can amass daily species lists of 100+ species without too much difficulty on most any given winter day.

Recently I've been pondering the fine compliment of winter warblers that we entertain (or is it the other way around?) down here on an annual basis. Normally, we North Americans associate warblers with bright colors and sweet songs against the leafy backdrops of the spring and summer seasons. Yet, right off the top of my head, I came up with at least 20 species of warblers that I've personally seen down here in midwinter; not too bad, considering that there are 53 total wood warbler species native to the U.S. and Canada. Of course winter warblers wear dull non-breeding plumages, so the “visual” component is not as breath-taking as during spring and summer, but they're quite fun to watch and hear all the same.

In the common regularly-occurring nearctic migrant category, the list begins with the Yellow-rumped Warbler, by far the most ubiquitously abundant of all our winter warblers. Yellow-rumpeds can be found everywhere down here, from sparsely-landscaped urban/suburban parking lots to deep cypress-tupelo swamps and everywhere inbetween – just as long as at least one tree is present.

the Orange-crowned Warbler is about as dull as it gets -- to the point where no discernable field marks becomes a field mark itself....these skulkers often emit a squeaky but sharply-penetrating series of "Chit!" notes upon detecting your presence . . . (photo by Russ Norwood)

Of regular occurrence as well – and almost as ubiquitously distributed as the Yellow-rumped, is the Orange-crowned Warbler. This species is nowhere near as abundant as the Yellow-rumped, but it does inhabit the same array of situations, but usually working lower among the shrubs and the low branches of trees.

two white wing-bars, a thin eye-ring, vaguely-streaky sides, and a high-pitched, flat-but-musical "chip" note equal Pine Warbler . . . this one is a very bright male, whereas the plumage of females and immatures is dull brownish, featuring little if any yellow . . . (photo by Larry Amy)

The Pine Warbler is another winter species down here that occupies the same urban/suburban/rural/wild array of wooded settings as the abovementioned. Pine Warblers are the only warblers that regularly visit seed feeders (especially those equipped with suet, “peanut butter logs,” and other sticky, nutty things).

lil' bandit! . . . females and immatures lack the white-lined black mask of this adult male Common Yellowthroat; and they can be sometimes difficult to identify . . . the lanky, round-tipped tail on all ages and sexes is a dead giveaway, though . . . (photo by Matt Conn)

Another common nearctic warbler overwintering here is the Common Yellowthroat. We have our own year-round population of Common Yellowthroats, but each winter these are joined by massive numbers from our north. You've got to go to a fairly wild spot to see this species – the open brushy edges of lakes and streams, marshes, rice fields, and overgrown fields are perfect places to look.

And then we've got the Palm Warbler (have a look at Matt Conn's fine profile photos of this species on my facebook version of The Nature Dude); not quite as commonly encountered as the others, but if you know where to look (the same dense, shrubby, overgrown fields that the Common Yellowthroat likes) you can generally find a few. Though pretty common here, Palm Warbler is frequently missed altogether during some area Christmas Bird Counts, which feature intensive bird surveillance in given areas by numerous observers.

drab winter dress of the "western type" Palm Warbler -- the form that we usually encounter here in south Louisiana . . . "eyebrow," yellow undertail, and a constantly-wagging/pumping tail are things to look for . . . go to my facebook "short notes" version of The Nature Dude to see a pic of the brighter more yellowish "eastern type" . . . (photo by Matt Conn)

Things get a little more exciting with the next category – warblers which regularly overwinter down here in the coastal zone, but in relatively small numbers. Again, entire Christmas Bird Count areas (15-mile diameter circles), often fail to turn up even one of these species; so it's a big deal any time you see one. Included in this group is the woodpecker-like Black-and-White Warbler, and the pretty yellow Wilson's (see Matt Conn's Wilson's Warbler photo on my facebook version of The Nature Dude) and Prairie warblers. In the world of North American winter birds, the color yellow comes at a premium. So anytime a winter birder spies any sort of yellow bird, we immediately know that we've got something good . All three of these species are fairly shy, only popping into view – if you're lucky enough to find one in the first place – for very brief periods of time.

Last comes the most exciting category of all – the lingerers & waifs. Encountering one of these is always a big surprise, more so for a waif than a lingerer, but either one or the other will make a birder's day. Of the lingerers, I have wonderful memories of finding things like Ovenbird, Yellow-throated Warbler, Nashville Warbler, Northern Parula, and Yellow-breasted Chat. I can remember when, where, and with whom I was with in each case. Most of these instances were during Christmas Bird Counts, where the hardest of hard-core birding is the rule, and everybody's working pretty hard for 8-12 or more hours at a time.

the few Yellow-breasted Chats that i've encountered in south Louisiana winters have all been tucked deeply under Japanese honeysuckle thickets in very secluded areas...chats are large thicket-dwelling warblers...fortunately they retain their bright yellow underparts in winter, so when they briefly flash up from their hiding places, they're pretty easy to identify.... (photo by Rector Hobgood[?]....either him or Beth Erwin)

I can still vividly remember even the tiniest of details regarding the waifs that we've encountered – even many many years after the fact. I oftentimes of wish that I could remember meeting people in that way, but hey . . .

All of my winter waif warbler encounters down here in the Louisiana coastal zone were of western U.S. species – lost birds who were attracted to the relatively few tiny groves of oaks spread out through thousands of square miles of marshes and ricefields. In such a landscape, evergreen live oaks stand out like beacons amidst the surrounding grassy/watery gray/brown countryside. Coming to mind are two Townsend's Warblers; one at an old oak-studded homesite (house was long gone...) in the middle of the ricefields south of Welsh, LA in Jeff Davis parish, and a second in a fairly large oak grove at – where else?-- Oak Grove, LA in Cameron parish. And then a couple of Black-throated Gray Warbler memories from small chenieres (French for “oak grove”) like the Peveto Woods Sanctuary, nearly right on the beach just east of Johnson's Bayou, LA in western Cameron parish.

And then there are true biggies – of birds rarely encountered anywhere east of the 100th meridian – say the Trans-Pecos of Texas – birds like the Painted Redstart that two other guys had found in a woodlot in northern Cameron parish during a Sabine NWR Christmas Bird Count. Back then, there were no cell phones. Good thing; else ALL bird counters would have immediately abandoned their designated areas to chase that bird. So we did it the old-fashioned way, hearing the news that evening during the count compilation in a Cameron restaurant, and going out the next day to relocate it. Oh but that was a rare one, ya'll . . . if you've never seen one, go ahead and google it . . .

eye on the sparrow

Grasshopper Sparrow

(photo by Dave Patton)

“What is the price of five sparrows? A couple of pennies? Not much more than that. Yet God does not forget a single one of them.”

                                                                                                                         -- Jesus Christ


When most non-birders hear the word “sparrow” they think only of the “House Sparrow” – that common little bird of America's cities, suburbs, and farms. But the House Sparrow is not even a sparrow. It's a finch (yes Virginia, there is a difference...). And an introduced Old World Finch at that.

Here in the New World, we have over 150 native species of true sparrows, 50 of which live in the U.S. and Canada. Only six of these breed/nest in the relatively small and watery state of Louisiana. But come winter, these six are joined by 17 additional migratory species. And if you add in the rarer non-regularly-occurring species that have been recorded in Louisiana, the total tops out at 33 species – well over half of the total species native to North America (north of Mexico)! In all of the U.S., this degree of sparrow diversity is surpassed only by Texas, California, and perhaps Arizona.

Savannah Sparrow -- Acadia Parish

(Photo by Matt Conn)

In general, sparrows are small, shy, wary birds, more often than not secreting themselves within dense grassy fields and brushlands; that's why so few non-birding humans are even aware of their presence. But once you get to know them – and that takes a lot of time, patience, and ideally, a good spotting scope – you too will be blown-away by the exquisite intricacy of their color patterns, and the sweetness of their lifestyles. Sparrows are indeed wondrous things to behold – easily as wondrous as a fine collection of gemstones – actually, more so in most cases.

White-crowned Sparrow -- a favorite of all Sparrow Freaks

(photo by Russ Norwood www.perceptivist.com)

Because they are so small in size and retiring in habit, sparrows give fits to those of us who are learning to identify them down to species. Newbie-to-intermediate birders often simply throw up their hands, and refer to them collectively as “LBJs” – Little Brown Jobs.” For birders and erstwhile birders alike wishing to marvel/study the sparrows, here are a few tips:

First, get yourself a spotting scope. When you're trying to learn the sparrows, in most real-life situations binoculars are too shaky, too clumsy, and limited in magnification to adequately see the fine, delicate, and detailed – almost like studying a mosaic – color patterns inherent to each species. That's where a 20-30X spotting scope comes in. Mount that sucker on a lightweight but good-quality tripod and you're ready to rock. You'll be surprised at how easy it actually is to manipulate and learn to use such a rig. And remember the fact that you're generally not going to be slithering through the woods 'n twigs n' branches n' vines with it (sparrows don't live in such places) but more often than not standing (or better, comfortably seated on a portable field seat rig or on the tailgate of your vehicle) at the edge of a forest or field or brushland.

Leconte's Sparrow -- Jeff Davis Parish

(photo by Dave Patton)

Next thing you should know is, the early bird gets the sparrow. You've got to get out there at the crack of dawn to optimize your chances to study sparrows with any degree of leisure. With the rising of the sun, they all jump up to the tops of grasses, shrubs, fenceposts, utility lines, etc. and sit there for minutes at a time, casually preening and allowing the sun to dry the dew off of their wings. With the angle of the rising sun to your back, you'll snag some fantastic “studys.” For photographers, dawn/early morning sessions such as this are a must – not an option.

Seaside Sparrow...occurs only in salt-marsh habitats;

this one from just north of the Gulf shore at Sabine Pass on the TX-LA border

(photo by Matt Conn)

A fool-proof modification of the above scenario would be to approach your friend/family member who lives on a farm and/or owns a big expanse of brushy/weedy land – maybe YOU already live in such a place – and in an open area adjacent to the grass/brush where you see a bunch of sparrows hanging out, place a series of seed-feeding stations in a row (spaced every 25' over 150' is optimum). You don't have to get elaborate. A simple board or piece of plywood on a cinder block will suffice. Buy 50lb sacks of the cheapest “wild bird seed” you can find. Faithfully refill the seed stations when they're empty. You'll be in sparrow-studying heaven from November through March. That's five months, kids! Oh and keep this rig portable as possible, for if you “strike out” in one place, search out a better place. In these parts, it won't take long to “hit it.”

White-throated Sparrow, our most common/ubiquitous winter species

(photo by Russ Norwood www.perceptivist.com)

Obviously, you'll need a good field guide. Try National Geographic or Sibley's guides to the birds of North America. Don't get an “eastern” or “western” version, for both eastern and western sparrows hang out in Louisiana. We're lucky that way.

Nelson's Sparrow

Very Site-specific species in cattail marshes in coastal parishes

but this one was caught red-handed in fall migration in northern Louisiana

(photo by Jeff Trahan)

Lastly, for those of you who enjoy traveling out in the field, work on creating a solid “search image” series of the specific habitat types which sparrows frequent most. Certain sparrows are very site-specific. White-crowned Sparrows want dense shrub thickets. Clay-colored and Grasshopper sparrows like “spaced brushlands” where big shrubs and small trees are dotted rather than tightly-bunched within a grassy field. Henslow's and Bachman's sparrows are all about long-leaf pine savannahs – grasslands dotted with long-leaf and other pines along with the occasional shrub thicket. Other sparrows such as White-throated and Song occupy all manner of brushy and forested (especially forest-edge) situations, up to and including densely-landscaped urban backyards.

Henslow's Sparrow -- Rapides Parish

(photo by Dave Patton)

Over time, you'll learn which sparrows to expect in which types of landscapes. Then the fun begins. And the cool cultural thing about this sport are your sparrowing-surroundings: Hanging out in tiny, convenient parking spots along quiet, gravel farm roads. The occasional friendly conversation with the local farmer (after you explain that you're not some terrorist spying on his house). Farmers are, like Donald Sutherland once proclaimed, “the finest kind.” All the while, ducks, geese, blackbirds, wading birds, and who knows what all else are all flying and hollering overhead. Hawks are on every telephone pole. Country stores are selling boudin and beverages and giving away awesome conversations for free.

Swamp Sparrows -- Iberia Parish

(photo by Matt Conn)

Have I convinced you?

I mean, think about it. What do you have to lose? Main thing is you'll be out in Nature; where the Big God lives.

Sparrow Freaks, unite!

nuthatch year

Red-breasted Nuthatch

(photo by Larry Amy along Bayou Vermilion in Lafayette 11/21/12)

Nuthatches are warbler-sized woodpecker-like birds, five species of which collectively inhabit much of North America. Here in Louisiana two species – the Brown-headed Nuthatch and the White-breasted Nuthatch – live in pine and hardwood forests, respectively.

And then there's the Red-breasted Nuthatch, a bird of the far northern and western sections of the U.S. and Canada. Each winter, a small population of Red-breasted Nuthatches migrates down to take up residence in Louisiana. During normal (if there is such a thing anymore) winters, a birder would be lucky to see/hear a single one. Down here in south Louisiana along the I-10 corridor, any of the Christmas Bird Counts, for example, considers the addition of even a single Red-breasted Nuthatch to its day-list a great stroke of fortune.

But this year is different. Beginning way back in early October if not late September we began getting Red-breasted Nuthatch reports. Normally, we don't get such reports until late-November/early-December. This year we got 'em early – and from everywhere, all the way down to the coast. This is an “invasion year” for this species, perhaps the biggest invasion year in Louisiana's ornithological history. Biologists refer to those certain animals (birds obviously included) whose fall/winter migrations are strongly tied to the condition of their primary food crop as “irruptive species,” who will travel however far it takes to locate that primary food source. In the world of North American birds, a number of seed-eating species that ordinarily overwinter to our north – crossbills, finches, and nuthatches included – fall into this category.

As they generally live and work, woodpecker-style, very close to larger branches and trunks, tiny nuthatches can be difficult to detect. Fortunately, they're even more vocal than woodpeckers; so with a decent ear, you can tell when they're around. All nuthatches make very nasal, squeaky, toy-horn or toy-rubber-mouse-like noises. In the case of the Red-breasted Nuthatch, it's like a “ink-ink” or “yenk-yenk” vocalization, uttered a lot when they are foraging along the crevices of tree-bark or around pine cones or when disturbed.

Ordinarily, Red-breasted Nuthatches hang more in urban/suburban pine groves and forests; and moreso in northern-central Louisiana. But this winter, dozens upon dozens of Red-breasted Nuthatches have been reported from towns, cities, parks, and forests of all makes and models throughout the entire state. Back in late-October, I spied one working in a large live oak all the way down at Avery Island right above Vermilion Bay. Reports have been emanated from New Orleans and Cameron parish as well.

Look for Red-breasted Nuthatches in a tree near you! I'm still waiting for one to turn up in our poor-pineless bottomland woods at my place.....dear Santa, etc etc etc........ 

louisiana hummer plants

eastern coralbean (aka "mamou plant") in bloom

As a follow-up to the previous post regarding the Louisiana hummingbird phenomenon, here's a little primer regarding best nectar plants for hummingbird garden use. Due to space limitations, I'm focusing on only the best/most essential hummer plants for our region. Here along the Gulf Rim, “our region” includes horticultural planting zones 8b-9 (google “U.S. horticultural zones, if you're not familiar).

The Major Players

First and foremost is Tropical Sage (Salvia coccinea), native to the immediate Gulf Coast and southern Atlantic Coast from Texas eastward through South Carolina, where it resides in coastal forests, often in association with coast live oaks (Quercus virginiana). In garden settings, tropical sage often verges on weediness; but that's precisely what hummingbird/butterfly gardeners need. And ultimately, it is so shallow-rooted that pulling it up is a snap.

this pink-flowered form of tropical sage popped up in our garden

from a nominate red-flowered plant that we obtained from

cheniere au tigre on the central louisiana coast...over the years

it has actually out-competed the nominate form in places........

This species grows 12-60” depending on sunlight exposure, soil type, soil moisture, genetic strain, etc. The cool thing about it is that you can maintain it at any height you want. I've seen it maintained as a ground cover beneath live oaks; kept at 4-6” via weedeater, and happily blooming away. As with most all New World salvias, the more you deadhead (prune off the spent bloom spikes) the more they bloom. Tropical sage is happy in just about any sunlight regime, from full sun to rather deep shade; and most any soil type except highly acidic (pH < 6) soils.

here's a mix of the nominate red-flowered tropical sage

(see why another common name for it is "blood sage"?)

and its pink-flowered progeny (which we dubbed, 'chevrette'....dat's "shrimp" in French, ya'll)

True native strains (from seeds or cuttings collected in the wild) of this species are prolific self-seeders; so this plant will travel about your garden. To control it, simply pull it up where you don't want it, and allow it where you do want it. Note that several cultivars (horticultural selections) of tropical sage are offered in the nursery trade. For the most part, these are various color forms of the species, are rather short-lived, and do not self-perpetuate in gardens via seeding.

Down at my latitude (cusp of zones 8b & 9), tropical sage blooms at least nine months per year – 12 months(!) in years with warmer winters. In this regard, it simply cannot be beat. Ask any hummer.

anise sage

Anise Sage (Salvia guaranitica) is a South American native which has proven itself to be a very long-lived perennial in Gulf Rim gardens, even though it does not self-seed. It is a clump-former, growing to heights of 30-50”. Like S. coccinea, you can maintain it at shorter heights by pruning. The nectar produced by this species possesses the highest sugar content (~ 30%) of all nectar plants, and is cherished by hummers. Bloom season: April-November. It is root-hardy to at least 20F. In our garden we have clumps that are at least 20 years old, which have survived many floods, dry spells, and sub-freezing nights.

turk's cap

Like tropical sage, Turk's Cap (Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii) is native to the forests of the immediate Gulf and south Atlantic Coasts. It is a creeping, sprawling shrub, and is tough, adaptable, and long-lived. Grown under direct sunlight, it will run wild, covering large areas and growing to heights of 5-6'. Grown in shade, it behaves itself, averaging 20-30” and limiting its spread to 6-8' areas. I like to use it over the immediate root zones of shade trees, where most other plants would have a difficult time surviving. There, it definitely behaves itself, producing only ~25% of the blooms that a full-sun specimen would; but hey, that's still plenty enough flowers. Bloom season is about six months: April-September.

sultan's turban....note that blooms hang downward....

turk's cap blooms poke upward, and are much smaller

 For those living on the I-10 corridor and southward, also consider Sultan's Turban or “Giant Turk's Cap” (Malvaviscus penduliflorus), native in the U.S. to only the Rio Grande Valley of Texas and peninsular Florida (also, possibly native at Grand Isle, LA). It's a big 6' X 6' herbaceous shrub that blooms only fall into winter at this latitude. Down close to the coast, it blooms throughout the entire winter. Sun or light shade.

“Flowering Maple” (Abutilon pictum) is native to southeastern Asia. This is a large herbaceous shrub (15' X 7') from the Hibiscus family. When sited correctly – no more than 4-5 hours direct sun; eastern exposure; protection from winter winds – it will bloom continuously for at least nine months out of the year. Once it grows large, its stems do tend to flop; and in strong winds the whole plant can easily topple, so I reinforce the stems by loosely encircling all of them together with one wrap of green garden tape at a height of about 5'. It's also a good idea to tie the plant to a deck rail, porch post, or whatever in order to prevent wind-toppling. Courtyards are fantastic locales for this plant! It is “bloom hardy” to about 28F and root hardy to about 16F.

Cuphea 'David Verity'

Cigar Plants (Cuphea spp.) are native mostly to the New World tropics, and several species are commonly used in zones 8b-9 hummer/butterfly gardens here in the U.S. The best two performers for our region are Mexican cigar plant (C. micropetala), and C. ignea selection 'David Verity'. The former is mainly a fall-bloomer, whereas the latter is yet another nine-month bloomer for our region. Both make neat sun-loving shrubs that you only have to cut back once per year in order to maintain neat shape. C. micropetala grows to about 65” X 60” and is root-hardy down to the sub-20F range. C. 'David Verity' averages 36” X 30” and is root-hardy to about 24F.

trumpet honeysuckle

Native Trumpet Honeysuckle (Lonicera sempervirens) offers excellent nectar in both spring and fall months, totaling at least 5-6 months per year. Give this well-behaved, 8' vine a half-day of sun and something to climb on. Grows in most soil types. Keep its roots well-mulched – moist and cool.


The Minor Players

These plants ended up in the “minor player” category because they're either less-used (comparatively speaking) by hummers or they possess notably short bloom seasons. Regardless, they're still valuable, beautiful, tough/adaptable, and very useful plants.

First is Lantana (Lantana spp.), native to the American tropics/sub-tropics, and certainly as decorative and long-blooming as tropical sage and flowering maple. Of course lantanas are known for their longevity of bloom, but hummers look upon them as second-rate nectar sources, going to them only when better options are not available. I'm not much of a fan of the hybrid and trailing lantanas, but the nominate shrub species “West Indian Lantana” (L. camara) and “Mexican Lantana” (L. horrida/urticoides) are both excellent performers around these parts. Once established, you couldn't kill either one if you tried. I consider both of these species native to Louisiana's coastal zone. Both are outstanding butterfly plants, and are visited with varying degrees of frequency by hummers.

Next comes a trio of native spring-blooming species, all of which doubtlessly evolved right alongside of the spring migration pattern of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds in the eastern U.S. Red Buckeye (Aesculus pavia) is a gorgeous shrub to small tree, grown best in shade, or in only a few hours of direct sunlight. Full-sun specimens get very large (25-30'). Because this deciduous species is on a rather whacky foliage schedule (leafing out by late January; defoliating by July), you'll want to keep it in unobtrusive locales/planting sites. Bloom season: March-May.

copper iris

Copper Iris (Iris fulva) is the earliest-blooming of our native iris species, and is the only species pollinated by Ruby-throated Hummingbirds (the other species are mostly bumble-bee pollinated). Bloom season: March-April.

Eastern Coralbean (Erythrina herbacea) is a perennial shrub from the bean family (Fabaceae). Bloom time: April-May.


The Cover Plants

With the winter hummingbird thing (see previous post) happening here along the Gulf Rim, it is essential that winter hummingbird gardeners provide these birds with some protection from cold winds and temperatures. This is where densely-foliaged evergreen plants come in. Oh....and here would also be a good place to reiterate that regardless of the lushness of your hummer garden, most all of us winter hummer gardeners pretty much have to commit to maintaining at least a couple of artificial nectar feeders throughout the winter season. Eventually, winter will take its toll on winter hummer gardens, with fewer and fewer blooms surviving after each successive blast of cold air. The last thing you want is to strand one or more winter hummers who've taken up residence in your yard once a freeze has occurred and suddenly there are few to no blooms available. Again, see the previous post for tips on how to maintain artificial nectar feeders.

Winter Honeysuckle or Bush Honeysuckle (Lonicera fragrantissima) ranks high as a winter shelter plant because not only is it a large evergreen shrub, but it also produces blooms – even down into sub-20F weather! This Oriental native grows up to 7' X 6' in loamier soils and under about a half-day of direct sun (it will put on acceptable growth/blooming in lightly-shaded spots as well). Blooms all winter into spring. Blooms smell exactly like fruit loops cereal. Joy!

Hollies (Ilex spp.), both native and Oriental species, are mostly evergreen, very adaptable, and thus provide good shelter for winter hummers and other birds, not to mention food for songbirds.

Last but by no means least are the Oriental evergreen Camellia species/cultivars. You absolutely cannot go wrong with these. Most important are the Camellia sasanqua cultivars, as they are the toughest, most adaptable, largest, and tightest-foliaged of them all. The C. japonica group is important as well. They prefer light shade (or no more than 4 hrs direct sun) in order to be happy. Oriental Camellias bloom in winter. Winter hummers routinely hunt around Camellia blooms of all types, but we're still not sure whether they are nectaring or bug-hunting. Regardless, Camellia flowers are definite bonuses for hummers. Note: Do not select dwarf Camellias as hummer cover plants. You want the old-timey, standard-sized stuff.

For more detailed information of Louisiana's hummingbirds and hummingbird gardening, I highly recommend Louisiana hummer expert Nancy Newfield's books: Hummingbird Gardens (1996) and Louisiana Hummingbirds (2011; http://www.btnep.org/BTNEP/resources/downloads/publications.aspx).