An Adirondack Naturalist in Michigan

Is they is, or is they ain't?

2012-01-25T11:59:00.001-05:00

Well, I stayed up late to try and photograph any potential northern lights Saturday night/Sunday morning. The closest we got was a reddish cloud to the north at 3:15 AM. I'm not sure if it is northern lights, or if it is the reflection of lights from the village of Grass Lake.

These are long exposures, so they look a brighter red than the actual sky. I'm guessing, though, that since the bright light directly on the horizon disappeared as the morning progressed, that it may not be Grass Lake.

Now, these next two shots were taken last night (24th) - the Earth was whallopped with a massive solar storm and there were supposed to be phenomenal auroras. Certainly the photos coming out of Norway and such were fabulous. All I saw was a bright greenish light hugging the horizon to the north.

Maybe?

[Update: Last night I made sure to look at the sky to the north while Toby and I were out for our walk. No lights. No haze. Translation: it's not Grass Lake! So, the lights pictured above must've been the northern lights as seen through the layers of clouds. Imagine what it would've looked like had the nights been clear!]

Northern Lights Alert!

2012-01-20T15:20:00.000-05:00

This just in from SpaceWeather.com:

Space Weather News for Jan. 19, 2011
http://spaceweather.com

EARTH-DIRECTED FLARE: Active sunspot 1401 erupted today, Jan. 19th, for more than an hour around 16:00 UT. The long-duration blast produced an M3-class solar flare and a CME that appears to be heading toward Earth. Forecasters say strong geomagnetic storms are possible when the cloud arrives during the late hours of Jan. 21st. High-latitude (and possibly middle-latitude) sky watchers should be alert for auroras this weekend. Check http://spaceweather.com for movies and updates.

DON'T MISS THE STORM: Would you like a call when geomagnetic storms are in progress? Storm alerts are available from http://spaceweathertext.com (text) and http://spaceweatherphone.com (voice).

I know I always want to know in advance if I should be on the lookout for northern lights, so just in case someone else is out there who'd like to know, I thought I'd share. Charge up those camera batteries and get out the tripods!

Year of the Bat

2012-01-20T10:12:00.000-05:00

It's the International Year of the Bat!

Get involved!

Animals at Play

2012-01-19T09:49:00.000-05:00

The following came to my attention via a cousin's Facebook page.

I had a professor who insisted that animals do not play. Well, you'll never convince me of that. This crow is just having the time of its life.

I also recall watching gulls riding the water over the edge of the falls at Niagara Falls. They'd sit on the water, and whoosh! over the edge they'd go, only to take wing after falling a few feet. They then flew back upstream only to sit on the water again and take another ride over the falls. No barrels required.

Here's one more - from PBS's program Nature.

I sure do miss ravens. We had them all over in the Adirondacks. No ravens here in southern Michigan - although I do have titmice instead, and just up the road there are indigo buntings galore in the summer. Some trade-offs aren't too bad.

A Slime Mold Grows Up

2012-01-18T17:07:00.000-05:00

Just in case you didn't really think that slime molds moved, here's nifty video of one as it goes from placid slime mold feeding on its log to producing its spore-producing appendages. Note the presence of the critters all around - that will give you and idea of just how quickly this thing moves!

Thanks to Phil over at Cabinet of Curiosities for posting a similar slime mold video - nothing like a nifty nature moment to capture one's attention and make 'em start searching for more!

WNS - more bad news

2012-01-18T16:25:00.000-05:00

"I’m writing today with tragic news about White-nose Syndrome (WNS), the disease that has been decimating North American bat populations for the past six years. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service announced today that White-nose Syndrome has now killed more than 5.7 million bats. The new estimate, which some biologist believe might be conservative, ranges up to 6.7 million."

This was the beginning of an email I just received from Nina Fascione, the director of Bat Conservation International. Just thought I'd spread the news.

However, I thought I had just heard (on NPR perhaps?) that the rate of infection of WNS was starting to slow down - scientists were hoping a plateau had been reached. Maybe I just dreamed that. I'll have to do some research to see if this is so.

In the meantime, the future isn't looking too rosy for my favorite mammal. :(

Feeding Your Inner Artist

2012-01-17T10:24:00.003-05:00

This weekend we had a soapstone carving workshop at work. Due to a few no-shows, I was able to sneak in and try my hand at this age-old craft.

When I think of soapstone carvings, I think of the Inuit, but it turns out that this art form dates back over 3000 years to the ancient Chinese. Even ancient Africans and artists from the Middle-east (Iran) were busily creating not only artwork, but also daily utensils, like bowls, plates, teapots and the like. Slowly soapstone made its way into Europe (1600s) and even the Vikings were using it to carve jewelry and containers.

My loon is the pale one - third from the front.

Apparently the Inuit didn't start carving soapstone until they met, and began trading with, white settlers across North America. Their traditional art involved carving whale bones, but they readily took to the soapstone the early traders offered them.

Soapstone is a form of talc, and is very, very soft. Actually, the more talc present, the softer the stone. Some quarries have soapstone with only a little bit of talc, and this stone, while equally as beautiful as the softer varieties, is much more difficult to carve.

If you'd like to see the process we went through to make these loons, visit Dirt Time at Dahlem, the Dahlem Center's blog.

A Day of Adventure!

2012-01-10T14:42:00.002-05:00

The word was out last week, and by Saturday, a plan was set to meet by 8:30 AM Monday at a car pool site north of 94. Ten of us showed up, passports in hand, and off we went to Canada. The sun was out and it was going to be a beautiful day.

In less than wo hours or so after we left, we were nearing The Site, as evidenced by cars parked along the roadside and people lining the the shoulder.

What in the world were we there for? Can you see it below? In front of the people?

It was a great grey owl. This bird had flown down from way up north in search of food and had been hanging around for a few days. So here it was, trying to find something to eat, and all these people were lined up literally within spitting distance of it to take its picture.

I confess, I was one of the perpetrators - but at least this time I had the right lens for my camera (the last time I went in search of a great grey, up in Montreal, I got to the site and was getting my gear ready only to discover I had brought my macro lens instead of the zoom).

This bird, however, was really quite focused on trying to find food. It sat there very patiently, turning its head this way and that, using that marvelous facial disc to listen for the rustle of any small mammal in the dry leaves on the ground. The constant clicking and beeping of upwards of 30 or 40 cameras seemed to be of little concern.

Great greys are probably my most favorite of the owls. Saw-whets are cute, but there's just something majestic about this bird, the tallest of the North American owls (snowy owls are the heaviest). Normally a denizen of the far northern forests, where it is often called the ghost bird, the great grey hunts in the deep silence far from the bustle and noise of civilization. When food becomes scarce, however, it heads southward in search of better hunting grounds. Small mammals make up the majority of its diet.

We got to watch some good behaviors, including a little grooming:

And for those who prefer action shots, here's a video of the bird taking care of an itch (I didn't have my tripod - who knew there'd be video opportunities - so be warned, it's a bit jumpy).

Finally, after what must've been a half hour or more, the bird started to take exception to our presence.

He flew down the road maybe a hundred feet or so and landed. The herd followed.

Again he took off.

A fence post across the road was a good perch...

but the paparazzi followed again, so he crouched...

...and launched. This time he went where we could not follow: into a thicket behind a wire fence. At last - some peace to hunt. Notice the really large feet. They are covered with feathers, which help this northern bird stay warm in normally subzero temperatures.

Next on our agenda was stopping by the ferry station along Lake Erie.

Our goal at the lake was to search for gulls. At the first stop gulls were few and far between.

So we headed off for our next stop: The Onion Fields. This area of very flat land was (and still is being) drained so the original settlers could access the very rich wetland soils. The resulting mucklands were used for growing onions. The fields didn't look terribly oniony when we were there, but it was for onions that we had come - we were looking for snowy owls. Luck was with us, we found two! Do you see it below? It's that tiny white dot slightly up and to the left of the center of the photograph.

Here's the cropped image - the bird is just above and right of center:

I'm afraid that's as good as it gets with the snowy. Unlike the great grey, which sat right along the roadside, the snowies were smack dab in the middle of these large fields that were surrounded by deep ditches.

After a quick bite to eat, we dashed back to another ferry landing, just in case some gulls or other interesting shorebirds showed up. By now the wind had picked up quite and we had a bit of a surf rolling in.

This didn't seem to deter the birds too much, for we watched a flotilla of Canada geese bob along unconcerned, and a raft of golden eyes were also floating nearby. We saw a couple redheaded ducks, too, but the big find along the shore was a greater black-backed gull.

By now the clouds were rolling in and it was time to head back to The States. On our way across the border, we had a little excitement as one of our vehicles was pulled over for having set off the radiation sensors. The officials came out and were using their hand-held radiation detectors to locate the source of the potential crime. Soon we saw bags and one of our people escorted into the building. It turns out that our friend had an old WWII compass that had been a gift from an uncle. This compass apparently has a slightly radioactive compound in the paint on the dial, which set off the alarms as being similar to the radioactive products used in "smart bombs." We all got a good chuckle out of this unplanned adventure.

When I finally was headed back toward the old homestead yesterday evening, a gorgeous orange full moon of impressive size was on the rise. I nearly floored the gas pedal to get home before it was up and drained of color. Grabbing the tripod and dog (who had been inside all day and needed respite), I dashed out back to snap some shots.

While I was out there, I thought I'd see if the camera could pick up more stars that my eyes could see. About the only constellations I could make out were Cassiopeia (below) and Orion (partly hidden by a tree).

The camera got this pretty good shot of Jupiter and two of its moons, though!

I haven't consulted any star charts yet, but this bright one was in the western sky (about 6:00/6:30 PM). Could it be Venus? I was fascinated by the effect I got from the plane that flew by, flashing its red light.

Every evening there is a smudge of stars that I can just barely see when I look directly toward it, but see much more brightly from the corner of my eye. I believe these are the Pleiades - the camera picked them up nicely, too.

As Calvin would say, the day was just packed. What a perfect way to spend a day off from work.

Red Sky in the Morning

2012-01-05T13:00:00.000-05:00

When Toby and I headed out for our walk about 7:45 this morning, there was a lovely pink glow in the sky.

We rounded the corner of the house and saw this:

Well, of course, I had to dash back inside for the camera! What a spectacular sunrise!!!

All too soon, though, the colors were fading. By the time we had gone about 0.3 miles up the road, the brilliance was gone.

Soon the sky was all grey and cloudy, and I thought "by golly, that old phrase about sunsets and sunrises is true." But here it is about 1:00 in the afternoon and the sky is mostly blue with the winter sun shining weakly through the trees. Temps are soaring up towards 40 degrees - it has turned into a nice day.

Food for Thought

2012-01-04T15:22:00.000-05:00

My friend Willow had this on her blog, and it was so moving that I decided to swipe the code and post it on this blog, too. Some of my readers are also her readers, but some of you are different.

Give it a think.

Christmas at Tick Hill Farm

2011-12-29T10:21:00.000-05:00

Christmas morning at the ol' homestead. Look at all that snow!

Okay, so it wasn't terribly winter-y out, but it was a beautiful morning. We headed out first thing to feed the birds and go for our morning walk. Here you can see one of the brush piles I've been building at my bird feeding area. It's practically a windbreak now, but, oh, the birds to love it. This is a classic case of "build it, they will come."

As we turned the corner and headed up Fishville road, Nino, the yip-yap next door, came charging out to greet us. He thinks this corner, including our yard, is his. Notice the ridiculous PJs he's wearing (covered with candy canes). He's an annoying little pooch, but essentially harmless.

Now here's something you don't see every Christmas: a spider headed across the road! Yes, it was that mild out. I wonder if Christmas spiders will become a tradition, thanks to climate change. Hm.

I had some time off this week - thanks to holidays falling on days off. So, to alleviate the boredom, did I work on the walls, removing the remaining wallpaper and wallpaper glue, repairing cracks and holes with new plaster? No, of course not - I rearranged furniture! My "front room" has this lovely bay-like window, which I immediately filled with houseplants when I moved in. I've had many visions for this room, but it is now my sitting room, with the sofa arranged so I have...

...Bird TV! Bird TV is what we call the big window at work, which faces our Wildlife Viewing Area, all delightfully arranged with bird feeders and pond. We often eat our lunch in front of Bird TV - it is great. Well, since I don't have TV at home, I decided to create my own Bird TV, for this window looks right out over the bird feeding area I put up. Depending on where I sit on the sofa, I have a great view of the feeders. And you just never know what will show up - I had a bluebird (not a blue jay) sitting at the feeders this very afternoon!

Here you can see one of the recent attractants at the feeders: the carcass of the Christmas Chicken. This is a GREAT way to utilize your leftovers. Let's face it - most of us don't do a great job cleaning the remaining meat off the carcass, so instead of wasting this largess, put it outside for the birds! They will love you for it, for it will provide them with much-needed winter protein, as well as fat.

I was very excited last night when Toby and I came home from our walk to find some opossum tracks in the driveway, going to and from the feeders. We have a 'possum! I hope to see him (her?) one of these days. Although 'possums are essentially nocturnal, they do wander around during the day sometimes. My neighborhood is rife with 'possums, based on the number permanently sleeping along the roadsides, so I shouldn't be surprised to have one here. I wonder if it lives in the garage (that's where the tracks were heading). Hm....

Happy Holidays!

2011-12-29T09:53:00.000-05:00

Here's hoping everyone had a wonderful holiday!

Thank you, Uncle Tom - they are my favorites!

Christmas Bird Count

2011-12-22T17:08:00.002-05:00

A hundred plus years ago, one of the big holiday experiences, especially among the gentry, was to go out on Boxing Day and shoot birds (and mammals). Teams were chosen and the one that came back with the biggest pile of fur and feathers "won." It was the sport of the time there in the late 1800s. This, combined with the growing penchant for birds and their various parts on hats, led to the nearly catastrophic decline in many bird species.

It was in 1900 that Frank Chapman, an ornithologist, proposed a new bird sport to replace this holiday tradition: a Christmas Bird Count. Teams would go out and look for birds, recording on paper how many they found of each species. That first year, Christmas 1900, the CBC had a total of 27 participants and logged in over 18,000 birds of 89 species. The 111th CBC (last year) tallied 2215 areas that had teams out counting birds: 1714 in the USA, 394 in Canada, 107in Latin America, the Caribbean, the Pacific Islands. How many people? 62,624! That's a long way from the original 27. I think Mr. Chapman hit on something. And how many birds were counted? 61,359,451. As impressive as that is, it is down over 4 million from the count two years earlier, and that was with more eyes looking and more areas surveyed than in 2009. Not good.

Well, this year is the 112th annual CBC, and it was my second. Last year, three days after starting my new job, I headed out with two of my new coworkers to help tally birds around a section of the Waterloo Recreation Area. This year, I was asked to help out again, so I joined one of my coworkers and one of our volunteers as we drove around a smaller section, hoping to find some birds.

It was a chilly, grey, damp day. It snowed off and on, but I think that snow really wanted to be rain. Gary thought the weather would be in our favor, keeping birds low and from flying around. Well, the birds must've really been keeping low, because we were having a terrible time finding any! We drove by wetlands...

and walked down roads. Oh, we heard the birds chuttering to themselves, but they just weren't sticking their heads up.

We got out and walked the Hoffman Trail. This is great habitat for red-headed woodpeckers. We saw four (last year we had seven). A couple kingfishers were quite vocal, and one put on a really nice show for us. The trail out to the wetland, however, was a bit wet - only Gary forged across.

Paul was our official tally-man. After a while, we began to wonder if we really needed to add another blue jay. Blue jays were quite numerous - and vocal. They were elbowed out by mourning doves in number, though, but this was only because we came across two large flocks of doves snoozing on utility lines.

We found these wonderful woodpecker holes - fairly fresh.

The woodpecker (pileated) was not only drilling for insects, it was flipping off pieces of bark to look for food underneath. Can you see the horizontal scratch were the beak skidded sideways?

Partway through the day, we headed back to Gary's house for bathrooms and lunch.

Lucy was there to greet us and make us feel welcome (as was Gary's wife, who had a lovely pot of stew bubbling away on the stove to help us warm up).

Nancy joined us for the afternoon search. The temperature remained at the borderline level, and the air remained damp and chilly.

Since the birds were not offering themselves up for photography, I fell back on my usually photographic subjects: plants. Here we have a lovely white bush clover with its white snow caps.

Milkweed looks lovely regardless of the season.

Our final site was this stand of conifers. Gary was hopeful that we might find some owls roosting here: short-eared or saw-whet.

We looked around the bases of trees for pellets, and stared at trunks in hopes of finding some "white-wash" - both signs that an owl has been roosting there, but had no luck. Gary even crawled through some thick brush to peer into low conifer branches, just in case a saw-whet was hunkered down there. Nada.

We did find some lovely clubmosses, though. I haven't seen clubmosses since leaving the Adirondacks. My clubmoss ID skills are a bit rusty, and I don't have a clubmoss ID book. I'm hoping my botany buddies will help me out with species here. I think this might be prince's pine, but I'm not 100% convinced of it.

Update: These are ground cedar. Which ground cedear, though, I'm not sure. They could be Lycopodium tristachyum or L. digitatum. Of course, the details I need to tell them apart are not available in the photographs I took. I may need to make another trip out here. (I still don't know about the one climbing the trees, though - it could be the same species, just out for a stretch.)

And this one, with the long runners (some of which were actually climbing up the trees) I think is a new one for me. At least it doesn't look like any of the species we had at the Newcomb VIC.

It was nearing 4:00 when we decided to wrap things up. Our last new birds were kinglets - golden crowned.

All in all, it was a good day spent outside participating in a one-hundred-plus-year-old tradition. I haven't seen the tallies yet, but I hear we did pretty well.

Walk Around the "Block"

2011-12-22T09:34:00.000-05:00

A couple weeks ago Toby and I woke to a lovely sunny morning, and since it was my day off, we went for a 2.5 mile walk around "the block." This section of real estate includes rural houses, state hunting land, and a bit of farming.

When we first headed out, and were cutting across the yard, the neighbor's dog, Nino, came bounding across the road, yapping away, to greet us. Nino is very keen on Toby, but won't let me anywhere near him. A very nervous little dog.

Soon we were beyond the houses and McMansions and walking along the dirt road, with state land to either side. Normally I'd be very excited about all this state land, but it's not like the Adirondacks, where there are trails and hidden wonders to discover. Mostly this land is forested and full of invasive species, and it's primary purpose is for hunting.

Even in the summer, when hunting is pretty much not happening, I'm not going to be wandering these lands because the numbers of ticks are simply unbelievable. Michigan is home to 20 species of ticks. Twenty! About five of these are of concern: the black-legged (formerly known as the deer tick), the American dog tick (aka: wood tick), the lone star tick (not strictly a Texan, despite the name), the woodchuck tick and the brown dog tick. That's two dog ticks! Toby and I are steering clear of tall grasses during the warm weather.

I may have posted a photo of this place (below) this summer. I'm not sure what it is, but it does have "refinery" written on it. Last night when I was driving home, I saw a raging fire about two miles down the road from my house. The structure was behind a lot of trees and several hundred yards from the road, so I couldn't get a good look, but it appeared to me like I could see a door that was ajar and the whole downstairs glowing from the fire. "Upstairs" large gouts of flame were spewing forth, perhaps from a window, or a chimney, or a hole in the roof. After knocking on doors and getting no response, I found a driveway that went toward the inferno, and two truck were driving out. I stopped and asked if there was a house on fire - I was ready to dial 911 for help. The man told me it was an oil refinery and they were just burning off whatever it is they burn off at such places - nothing to worry about. There are a lot of small oil wells all around this area where I've purchased my home. I wonder now if this structure below was another oil refinery - the green "chimney" certainly suggests this might be so. Do they also have fires burning off "stuff?"

Tracking is pretty poor around here. No fishers, no martens. We do have coyotes - I've heard them calling. Maybe I'll see some tracks once we get some real snow. And weasels and foxes. About the only tracks I've encountered so far, though, are dog, deer and rabbit (see below). How small cottontail rabbit tracks look after ten years of following snowshoe hares!

I'm not sure what this gated road leads to. It looks like it should be a ranch somewhere out west. We do have a number of farms around here - mostly soybeans and corn. I've seen homes with sheep (not quite farms - just small holdings), and one place down the road from me has a handful each of Holsteins and pigs. A few places have chickens. It's certainly not dairy country like where I grew up. Oh, and there are horses - quite a number of horses. Up in the Waterloo area, just north of me, we have the upper crust horses that are attached to the country club and go on fox hunts, but down here we have rural horses, most likely family pets.

This part of Michigan is just starting to get bits of elevation - here we have a genuine hill! Mostly, however, things are pretty flat here.

And, as we come down the home stretch, we see the source of the tree-of-heaven saplings found on my property: full-grown trees on state land.

It's no wonder they are such prolific spreaders - just look at the amount of seeds still clinging to the upper branches! I wonder if anyone would really object if I girdled these trees. Hm. I guess that since they are on state land I probably shouldn't - but it sure would be tempting!

All too soon we were back home.

Time Flies

2011-12-21T16:25:00.000-05:00

It seems I never get around to posting stuff anymore...and certainly not like I used to! Even content-wise I feel I have slipped a long way from where this blog was back when I was in NY. Partly (mostly) this is due to time. At my last job, since we were closing down, I had plenty of time to research and write. Now my days are full at work - busy busy busy doing a bi-monthly newsletter, working on interpretive plans, doing weekly programs at the local middle school, attending meetings, etc. etc. etc. I don't have internet at home (can't afford it), so I have to make do at work or at hotspots on my days off (which doesn't happen very much - I do so miss the Crandall Library in Glens Falls).

Right now, however, I have misplaced my camera cable, so I am unable to download photographs. Photographs of exciting things like the annual Christmas Bird Count this last Saturday.

And I also neglected to post a major milestone: one year, one week and one day ago I moved to Michigan. Two days later I started this new job. It's been a whole year! Tempus fugit!!! Sometimes it feels like it can't possibly be a whole year already, while at other times I feel like I've been here so much longer.

With a whole year behind me now, I can no longer take advantage of "I'm the new person." I've now seen and done just about everything here, so there are no more excuses. Time to forge ahead and make my mark.

Today also marks another year completed in my own life - and for the first time, a birthday doesn't really seem like such a big deal. It was starting to feel that way the last couple of years, but this year it is truly so. Is this a sign of having finally grown up? Hm....can't have THAT happen!

But it is the Winter Solstice - a time of celebration around the world. I guess officially it isn't the Winter Solstice until 12:30 tonight, EST (or tomorrow morning, if one wants to be really correct). In my mind, however, December 21st will always be the Winter Solstice, just as March 21st will always be the Vernal Equinox, June 21st the Summer Solstice and September 21st the Autumnal Equinox.

I really kind of like the idea of this being the longest night of the year, where the community would gather around a roaring fire and keep it burning (Yule log) until the sun rose the next morning, ensuring the turn of the seasons and that light would return to this good earth. I imagine this was really a lot more significant in those far northern climes where daylight at this time of year only lasts an hour or two. While I may begrudge the morning darkness (I hate getting up before 5:30 and not seeing the sky lighten until after 8:00 AM), we still have some daylight here until almost 5:30 in the evening. A wee bit more light than we had in the Adirondacks.

So, enjoy your holiday this season, whatever it may be. And when I find my camera cable, we will once more be back in business here.

Cheers!

A Step Back in Time

2011-12-06T13:40:00.002-05:00

Sunday dawned chilly, grey and rainy. Bleh. But I wasn't about to let this keep me in. I called my friend Carrie and off we went to the Waterloo Farm Museum to see what they had to offer for their 1880s Christmas Celebration Weekend.

It took some hunting along the backroads around Waterloo to find the place, but find it we did. As you can see, things were a bit wet and muddy.

The fence was decorated for the season, and after we stepped into the barn, paid our $5 fee, and grabbed a homemade cookie and some cider, we went exploring.

Most of the buildings here are small. One was the gift shop, and another had wreathes and swags for sale. The rest, however, were set up to demonstrate their original uses.

For example, this was the bake house! What a wonderful oven, and along the sides were shelves where no doubt various grains were kept and loaves were set to cool.

Carrie moved some props around so I could get a nice photo.

Ta-da!

The floor housed an old grind stone. We pondered on this for a while. Why was it put here? Was this stone removed because it was worn out and subsequently installed here as a decorative floor? Had the original mill gone automatic? We didn't find an answer.

We were equally fascinated by the roof of the bake house.

What a wonderful collection of mosses and lichens!

One of the buildings was the original farm cabin. Inside they had three volunteers on hand to do some interpreting.

A toasty fire was crackling away and the lady of the house was cooking up some lunch.

They had decked out the place for the holidays. Their tree was decorated with various dried fruit ornaments.

I, of course, was drawn to the bed, with its three quilts!

The tall "barrel" you see just to the right of the door is a section of hollowed out sycamore. The story goes that one winter the folks who lived in the cabin rescued a native woman and her child from a blizzard. The family cared for them and when their health returned, they headed back to their people. The following year, people from the tribe returned to the cabin with this barrel, which was packed full of dried meat, to say thanks for taking care of the woman and child. The family kept the barrel (and apparently stored flour in it).

A few pictures up, you can see a windmill. It is attached to the well, and was the family's source of water.

It was a looooong way down to the water.

Next to the spring house (water pump) was a very short building...mostly under ground.

This was the milk house. Often these buildings were built on, or next to, the spring house, which provided natural cooling inside. The family's milk and butter were stored here. I'm thinking it might also make a pretty nice root cellar.

Next, it was on to the big house, which the family built after living in the little cabin a few years.

Before entering, we had to don blue booties over our muddy shoes - a pretty effective means for keeping the house a little bit cleaner on a wet and muddy day.

In the front parlor we were told all about the many ways folks of this era might have celebrated the holidays. I was most taken by the feather tree, a tradition brought over from Germany in the late 1800s and which became quite popular in the US by the early 1900s.

These little table-top trees are made from feathers, twisted and attached to the branches. The stiff feathers look very much like spruce or fir needles. Candles, of course, were the traditional way to light one's tree. If done correctly, candles on a tree are safe. One should just never leave the room while they are lit. My grandmother used to put candles on her tree (she was of German descent), but I don't recall her ever lighting them. I've only once seen a tree lit with candles, and that was at the house of the family of one of my classmates when I was a kid. It is lovely.

We toured through the second parlor, which was the domain of the woman of the house, and one could only go in there if invited. They had an old pump organ there and a woman played it for us as we passed through.

Continuing around the rooms, we came to a small one where a woman was making socks on an antique sock-knitting machine. The story behind this machine was that there was a woman who was married to a minister. She spent a lot of time knitting socks for her family, time that her husband would be better spent in prayer. So, he invented this machine that turned out socks in a fraction of the time it took to knit them by hand.

While I was quite taken by her socks, and interviewed her at length about her machine, I was also enthralled with the crazy quilt that was on the bed. It had a lot of wonderful embroidery on it, including some great phrases, like the one below ("Laugh and grow fat").

Feathers also featured in artwork upon the walls. This lovely framed arrangement of flowers was made entirely of feathers.

Things were cooking in the kitchen. Although it was a chilly and damp day, it was toasty warm in here. They had bacon frying on the stove and a stew going in the Dutch oven. Next to the stove, on the left, is the wash tub - it was bath day. In fact, one of the women in the kitchen was telling us how that was how her family bathed when she was a kid, and she couldn't have been older than her 60s.

The gentleman in the kitchen regaled us with tales of butter-making. They had a small table-top churn set up to make butter, and they also had this "machine" with some butter on it. The key, he said, to making good butter was to separate the buttermilk from the butter, otherwise your butter would spoil. This could be done in a big bowl, pressing the butter up the sides and pouring out the buttermilk, or in the machine below, which would force the butter up between the paddles, leaving the buttermilk in the pan below, from which you could easily pour it off.

By the time we got upstairs, it was after 3:00 and things were getting dark, thanks to the overcast day. But over all, I had a great time - well worth the price of admission. In fact, I was so taken by this place that I might even consider becoming a volunteer...after all, I love this period of history.

Raptor Musings

2011-12-02T16:24:00.000-05:00

Two nights ago, while letting Mr. T out for one final pee before we turned in for the night, I heard a not-so-distant hooting. It was a great-horned owl, with a not-so-great voice. A juvenile practicing, perhaps? It was out across the field behind the house and sounded like it was in The Tree on the far side. I listened for a while, hooted back a couple times (just to see if I'd get a reaction) and then heard a second GHO calling from the woods to the west. When I talked to our bird expert at work the next day, he asked if one of the birds had a higher-pitched voice than the other. If so, he said, that one would be a female and this might be a pair of birds that might "hook up." If not, then they might just be a couple males setting up territories. I hadn't listened well enough to note an difference in the voices, so I went out again last night, hoping they might be calling again. No such luck - but I will keep trying.

This morning, I had to be at one of the local schools early for a special "Forum" they were holding, with something like 20 speakers on hand to do presentations for the students. As I walked around the building trying to find the correct door, a small hawk flew overhead: sharp-shinned or Cooper's. All I caught a glimpse of was the belly and wings and an edge-view of the tail as it sped away. Not enough for me to make a definitive ID.

After the school program I stopped back home to let the dog out, since I will be late getting home tonight, and after doing my duty as a responsible pet-owner, I headed in to work to do my duty as a responsible employee. Just as I was leaving the driveway, I saw a bird struggling up to the utility pole across the street. Something was "wrong" with its shape. When it landed, the tail bobbed up and down - it was a kestrel, and it didn't perch for very long. As it took off, I saw what had made its shape so odd: it had a mouse clutched in one foot!

About fifteen minutes later, another hawk flew across the road in front of my car! I'm fairly sure this one was a Cooper's, just because of its size. Again, I didn't see enough of it to tell for sure; it's hard to see the shape of the head and such when a) one is driving and should be watching the road, b) the bird is flying rapidly away from one, and c) the sun is in one's eyes.

But it's been an amazing couple of days for raptors: owls, hawks and a falcon! Gee - that's almost a grand slam in my book.

Snow & Frost

2011-12-01T10:06:00.000-05:00

Tuesday it rained. And rained, and rained. The wind blew. And blew, and blew. The roof leaked. And dripped and dripped. And then it turned to snow. (Well, the precipitation turned to snow, not the roof.)

This is what the world looked like Wednesday morning:

This morning while walking Toby, I noticed all these wonderful long ice crystals on the plants - and the early morning sun hit them just so. I had to grab the camera and snap some shots before dashing in to work. Enjoy.

Happy December to All.

11-11-11 and Attacking the Alien Invaders

2011-11-16T14:11:00.000-05:00

On 11-11-11, we woke to a snowy world.

Okay, so it wasn't terribly snowy, but snowy enough to make things white. Toby always has to sample the snow. I keep telling him it's not really good until February, but he insists on forming his own opinion.

By afternoon the snow had melted away, but it was lovely while it lasted.

By the weekend the temps had soared back into the 60s. I have some time off coming to me at work, so I stayed home Saturday to take advantage of the balmy weather and attack the remaining woody invasives in my yard: honeysuckles.

Armed with a bowsaw, a set of loppers, a bottle of concentrated RoundUp and a paintbrush, I sallied forth and had at it.

Before long I was left with several piles of trunks and branches, and had my fingers crossed that the freshly painted stumps would not sprout come spring 2012.

This morning I was very pleased to find that juncos and sparrows (I don't know which ones) had already taken possession of the new brush piles (you can just see a junco to the left of center in the photo below - they all flew away when I came back out with my camera). Brush piles are highly underrated by homeowners. I suspect it is because most people are rather obsessed with The Perfect Tidy Lawn. Not me - give me a messy yard any day. I let the grass grow, I plant trees and shrubs in random locations, and I will probably leave these piles of brush lying about. They make terrific cover for small birds, who will flitter and flutter in and out of them in search of food and shelter. I may even move a pile over near the birdfeeders. I just hope the branches don't resprout (like the honeysuckle branches did back at my house in Newcomb).

As I was sawing and lopping my way thru the tangle, I discovered some stout stems growing among the shrubbery and trees. One thing stood out on these stems: the large, white leaf scars.

I knew this leaf scar. It was familiar. I wracked my brain trying to remember which species it belonged to. Ash? Walnut? The phrase "monkey faced leaf scar" kept teasing me. It was one we used in my dendrology class, oh these many years ago, to remember the species. Grrrr! It was dancing around the edges of my memory and I just couldn't come up with a definite answer, although I was leaning towards the walnuts.

There were two reasons for this. One: there are a LOT of black walnuts around. A LOT. And two: the ashes have been pretty much wiped out by the emerald ash borer here in Michigan.

I grabbed my copy of Harlow's Fruit and Twig Key and thumbed through it. No luck.

As I sit here at my desk, now, with various books littering the surface around me, I find myself still stumped. The one clue I need I don't have - a sample of the pith! This requires cutting off a twig and splitting it open to see the middle. The stems don't have any branches, so I am reluctant to cut, for I'd have to take the terminal end of the entire plant, and I don't want to do that.

Moving on, we next look at the bundle scars - the bits/spots inside the leaf scar. If this were one of the walnuts, there would be three bundle scars, one in each lobe of the leaf scar, and they would be rather horseshoe-shaped (making the scar look like a monkey's face). These are not - they dot the leaf scar all around the curved edge. Therefore, not a walnut.

Frustration sets in.

Finally, as a last resort, I Google "walnut leaf scar" and look at images. There it is! I open the image and take a closer look. Alianthus altissima - tree-of-heaven. Invasive species! I've never seen one of these. The leaf scar is the right shape, the bundle scars are in the right locations, and it sports a solitary bud at the top of each leaf scar.

So now I have to know what this tree looks like. I Google it and there it is. It looks like a sumac. Could it be that all these trees along the roadside that I thought were sumacs are actually Alianthus? Knowing how invasive this species is, it wouldn't surprise me.

I just popped over to Gary's office and we looked it up in his handbook of invasive plants, and there it is - a perfect match for my photo above. Looks like I've got a few more stems to cut and dab when I get home.

First Snow

2011-11-10T16:38:00.000-05:00

It's been a strange day weather-wise.

Burn, Baby, Burn!

2011-11-10T14:56:00.000-05:00

As I sit here this afternoon and watch the snow fall in great big flakes that are only just starting to turn the grass white, I think back to this weekend, when it was sunny and warm. I was putting up the last of the harvest (sweet potatoes, carrots), getting the garden ready for winter, and hanging out laundry, when the call came: they were going to do a burn at Haehnle Sanctuary - be there at 12:15. I still had a load of laundry in the washer, but as soon as it was hung, I grabbed my camera and drove north.

The burn was done by the same crew that did the burn last spring at work. Because of this, there was a chance that I might get to help out again.

However, because I was running a little late, the burn had already started. This was fine - I was able to kick back and just take photos.

There were two burns scheduled for this day. The first was this patch of prairie. The wind was quite strong all day, so the burn was started on the downwind side. Gary had been out the day before and mowed the firebreak, which served not only as a path for us to walk, but also as a barrier to help keep the fire under control.

There's nothing quite like watching a burn. The crackle of the flames when they hit of patch of fuel is really quite something.

This fire moved along quite quickly, leaving a smoking, charred field in its wake.

Next year, the native flowers and grasses should be great here.

Once all the smokers were put out and the site deemed safe, the crew loaded up and headed for the second burn site along the western edge of the sanctuary.

This site was a bit different. It started off along the edge of a wetland, where reed canary grass is invading the marshland. Fire won't do much to remove this invasive, but it will help keep it in check. High water levels are much more effective in controlling it.

As the fire burned southward, it entered a small patch of woods, bordered on one side by the road and on the other side by a small pond.

It was interesting to see just what didn't burn, like this pile of trash,

and the matted plants of this deer trail.

Occasionally the wind would gust and send billows of smoke across the road. This didn't slow down the traffic, though. It was such a glorious day that many folks were out for a Sunday drive. Lots of shiny, clean sports cars passed us, no doubt wondering what in the world we were doing.

As the fire passed through the woods, it gobbled up the ground cover.

A couple trees also caught fire. These were old snags, trees that were long dead and whose hollow centers acted like chimneys. The fire crew had to put these out.

Once on the other side of the woods, the fire came to another open field. Several lines of fire were set here to speed the burn along.

Prescribed burns are an important tool in maintaining open grasslands. They help rejuvenate fields and prairies, stimulating new growth in the spring and summer, and they can help keep some invasive species in check. Fire is one more tool in the arsenal of land stewards, and its one I never get tired of watching.

Beautiful Weekend, Beautiful River

2011-10-25T13:42:00.000-04:00

Saturday afternoon I had an email from my friend Kat asking if I wanted to join her and some friends for a paddle Sunday morning on the River Raisin. It was going to be a beautiful day, so how could I refuse? 9:30 Sunday morning found me hoisting the Spitfire onto the Prius and then driving over to Sharon Mills to meet the group.

When I was here a couple weeks ago, I visited the mill and walked along a trail upstream of the dam. Today we were putting in below the dam and our destination was Manchester, about a two-hour paddle away.

The put-in is quite nice - steps and all!

And we even start out with an interpretive sign, which tells us a bit about the River Raisin and the wildlife we might encounter along the way.

We ended up with about eight boats, most solo, but a couple had two paddlers. And one dog - Ernie.

The sun was just getting going as we launched, the trees still casting some pretty dark shadows.

It wasn't long, however, before the sun was high enough to brighten up the whole river. Having few leaves left on the trees helped.

This stretch of the River Raisin is really quite nice. I'd even say it's almost as nice as that stretch of the Kalamazoo I fell in love with this summer. There is a lot of deadfall, though, so maneuvering skills are definitely a plus.

We were very lucky that there was only one spot where we had to get out of our boats. Most of the group followed Ben's lead (below) and exited on the offending log, dragging their boats across and then relaunching. Three of us, however, took the safer route and disembarked along the shore, schlepped our boats through the briars, and then re-entered the water. Kayaks and Spitfires do not lend themselves well to easy egress.

The first, oh, two thirds of the trip goes through some pretty flat land, nicely forested on both sides. The current is pretty steady, so one really needs to pay attention, especially with all the trees across the water.

We passed under one bridge - I wonder where this road is. Hm.

Historically, this part of Michigan had a lot of white pines. There aren't too many around these days, at least not that I've seen, but here we have a small stand. I was so impressed I had to take their photo!

Some deadfalls we were able to paddle under, but most required some fancy paddle work to weave through without getting hung up on a submerged limb or trunk, or having the current swing your stern into the next branch before you got your bow aimed around it.

It's a good thing the water wasn't any higher than it was. There were four culverts here, and only the one on the far left had enough room for us to glide through.

And then we were in forest that had some topography. Banks!

Some of the maples still have a bit of color in their remaining leaves, but for the most part the recent winds and rains have stripped the leaves from the trees. Oaks are still holding on to their leaves, but that's normal: they'll still have them come March.

This one bank, which had a LOT of erosion, also had some interesting holes. I'm thinking these might be kingfisher nests. I will be consulting with our resident birder to be sure, however.

The day was just cool enough that we were comfortable leaving our sweaters and hats on, but warm enough that no one got a chill. Perfect paddling weather.

About two hours after we launched, we were returning to civilization. I put my camera away a bit too early - I thought we were at the end, but we still had another 20 minutes or so to go, through some lovely riverside neighborhoods.

As we hauled out our boats above the bridge in Manchester, we listened to various sirens and church bells. At first we thought it was the noon signal, but then we saw a rescue truck go by - hopefully it wasn't anything major. One of our group passed around some homemade brownies as our boats were placed on carriers and tied down, and six of us went for lunch at the Black Sheep Tavern (good food, great prices). It was after 3:00 when we all finally parted ways.

I'd recommend this stretch of the River Raisin to anyone looking for a nice paddle that isn't too difficult, but does require a little paddling knowledge. Thanks, Kat, for asking me along!

A G.R.E.A.T. Day on the Grand

2011-10-18T13:11:00.000-04:00

On Sunday, GREAT (the Grand River Environmental Action Team) hosted another paddling trip, this time on the Grand River. In fact, this trip was co-hosted by my workplace as well - the Dahlem Conservancy. Despite having a cold (which laid me up for 24 hours Thursday-Friday), I loaded my canoe on my car and drove out to the put-in site, which was north of the City of Jackson.

The weather report was not too reassuring. Overcast and chance of rain, but mostly sunny in the afternoon. So, I bundled up with a turtleneck and a new woolly jumper. I had raingear in my dry bag, and an extra pair of wool socks. Of course, just as we launched, the sun came out, so I packed my sweater away in the dry bag, only to regret it about five minutes later when the sun disappeared for most of the rest of the trip.

Still, weather aside, it was a very nice trip. A large number of folks came out for the paddle, the last one of the season to be hosted by GREAT. The Grand River had its beginnings just a bit south of Jackson, in Liberty Township.

The Grand lives up to its name, being the longest river in Michigan. It runs a whopping 252 miles, eventually depositing its load in Lake Michigan.

This stretch of the river was fairly wide and had a good, steady current. In fact, the current was just strong enough that it made for some interesting paddling, especially when it came to going under or around downfalls.

The area in general, along this stretch, is quite flat. In the spring, the river will rise about four feet, flooding these lowland forests. In many ways, this stretch of river reminded me of the Passaic down in New Jersey, where it flows from the Great Swamp National Wildlife Refuge. Back in the early '90s I worked for the Somerset County Park Commission at their Environmental Education Center there in the Great Swamp, and as one of the two canoe trip leaders, I did a number of paddles on the Passaic.

We had had a LOT of strong winds blowing Saturday, so many of the colorful fall leaves had been blown from the trees. These were about the only ones we saw this day that had any color left.

Near the end of our paddle, we came around a bend where there was a bit of a "cliff." It made for a nice change of pace in the scenery.

This old railroad trestle caught everyone's eye. I wonder if it is still in use.

About two-and-a-half hours after we launched, we were paddling up to our destination: a small county park where GREAT hosted a picnic for the paddlers.

The take-out site was a bit sketchy - no shallow, sandy-bottomed shoreline for easy egress.

We dodged the rain, had good food (thanks, Debbie & daughter), and introduced a few more people to one of Michigan's famous waterways.

Exploring the 'hood

2011-10-13T08:09:00.000-04:00

Sunday, on my way home from Ann Arbor, I finally decided to stop by this small county park that I've passed several times since moving here. It's only a few short miles from my home, and the day was beautiful - it just called to me.

Sharon Mills used to be a little hamlet, consisting of several homes and even a bit of industry. Today, what remains is the actual mill, the old store (now a private home across the street), and two other houses that are now rental units. The Washtenaw County Park System owns the mill, and they've done a lovely job preserving and interpreting it.

Come with me for a short tour.

Now, like all good and proper mills of the late 1800s, this one was water-powered. The water in question here is the River Raisin (don't you love that name?). The River flows eastward here, and the builders promptly diverted a portion of it and used its power to operate a mill. On this site there was once a sawmill (they have an old movie clip inside that they acquired from the Library of Congress, which shows the elderly sawmill operator sawing a log here in the early 1900s), and a grist mill.

But ultimately Sharon Mills' claim to fame came down to this man: Henry Ford (who, apparently has quite a bit of history here in Michigan). Henry believed that every village could have a small factory that produced some useful product (namely for his automobiles). Several were set up in Michigan, and Sharon Mills was one of the first (in fact, I think it was #13).

And what did the Sharon Mills factory crank out? Cigar lighters!

Inside the mill today, all polished and shiny, is the water-powered generator. When a crowd of visitors gathers round, the interpreter on duty turns the wheel, lets the water in, and the generator starts generating. The two silver balls on top go round and round, and the lights in the ceiling suddenly begin to glow. It's a beautiful thing.

Downstairs the building is mostly empty. There are often weddings held on the grounds here, and I imagine this space is put to good use on such occasions, especially when the weather is inclement.

There were quite a number of folks out this Sunday. Two or three trails begin at the mill and take off for the woods and fields out back. I asked the proprietor if dogs were allowed (I'd say that in 99% of the parks and open spaces I've encountered so far, dogs are not allowed), and she said that yes, indeed, they were! She specifically recommended a trail across the road that went along the river.

Hooray! I drove home thinking that maybe tomorrow we'd come back for a walk. I put the groceries away, and washed the dog (he was starting to get rather ripe). And after a couple hours I decided not to wait - it was too nice today - we were going to check out the park. I rigged Toby up in his ski-jor harness and off we went.

It took a little scouting, but we finally found the trail, thanks to a woman named Mary who is renting the house across the street. The path runs up along the side of the property and into the field behind, where it takes a turn southward toward the river.

And there it is, the River Raisin. Looks like it'd be good for paddling.

I must say that over all the trail was unremarkable. One side was field, one side was river,

and the trail itself ran through the buffer strip of trees in between.

After maybe a quarter mile, the trail turned back north, and we left the river.

We zig-zagged up a small switchback, where I snapped a couple pics of the late-blooming flowers (some asters,

some yellow sweet clover,

and some goldenrod).

I could see the legs of the switchbacks weren't that far apart, so I decided to jaywalk across the field instead.

On the surface, this wasn't a bad plan,

until I felt something poking my leg. Sand burs!!! I hate these things. First discovered them a year or two ago in Johnsburg, where they had the kids from the school in tears and made our fingers bleed when we tried to remove them from our clothes. Luckily for me, these ones weren't completely stiff and hard yet, so they were painless to remove.

Now we were walking on the uphill side of the field, still in a buffer zone of trees. Lots of walnuts - poor Toby kept losing his balance as they rolled beneath his feet.

Overall, I'd guess this trail was less than a mile in length - a nice enough little loop. Although I imagine that it was just as tick-riddled this summer as the fields and roadsides around my house. Now that summer is gone, so are the ticks. Life is much improved.

The next set of sunny days we have when I am off, we'll be back at Sharon Mills to check out the trails behind the mill - I am looking forward to it.

Bay City

2011-10-13T02:40:00.002-04:00

This last weekend a colleague and I were sent northward to the annual MAEOE conference. That's the Michigan Alliance for Environmental and Outdoor Education. This year the conference was held up in Bay City, which is about 2.5 hours north of Jackson (and a bit east), right on the shore of Lake Huron, hard by Saginaw.

I was up by 3 AM on Friday (I couldn't sleep), so I baked some muffins, cleaned the house, and all that before driving to meet her a bit before 6:00. Then we had the drive north.

I had signed up for a full-day course about a hands-on forestry program for high school students, but when we got there, we found out it was cancelled. So, I signed up for two other classes, one of which was a sail on the river into the bay on a schooner called the Appledore. They failed to tell me, however, that the boat was leaving a half hour sooner than it was scheduled in our programs, so, as you can guess, I missed the boat. This was not an auspicious start to the conference for me.

So, I joined my coworker for a tour of the Saginaw Visitor Center instead. Here we are:

Now, I will say this - they had some great animal mounts.

This wolverine was the the only one known to have been in Michigan, and it was there just a few years ago. Now the stuffed animal is a bone of contention about who gets it for display. Poor thing.

I did like this one - a great horned owl carrying a fox squirrel.

Many of the poses were extremely realistic. Good taxidermy.

I especially liked this fox - what a great pose! So cat-like!

This center is the oldest nature center in the state. One of the things they do is teach fishing, and this is their fishing dock.

Since it was such a nice day and we had some time to use, we decided to walk out to the beach along Lake Huron proper. Along the way we passed this, well, gate (?) - it regulates the water (in theory) so the wealthy residents don't get flooded. In truth, the thing really isn't needed.

And here we are: Lake Huron. It's a lot larger than this shot portrays.

Now, this might look like an ordinary pile of sand, but in fact is it a very large pile of stuff that is dredged from the lake - every year! Lake Huron, you see, is very shallow. You could probably walk out half a mile and not get wet above your knees (or so the educator told us). It gets a lot of sediment washed into it, though, so they constantly have to dredge it.

We saw several turtles this afternoon - mostly painted, but this one was a nice spotted turtle. I used to see these a lot when I worked in NJ - they are like old friends now when I see them.

There were LOTS of these brilliant red berries - highbush cranberries. The birds love these.

Anyone want to guess what this is? It's a trap for wild boars. Yes, wild boars are a BIG problem in Michigan. Some idiot thought they were a great deal of fun to hunt and imported them for sportsmen. Well, pigs are clever, and they escaped. Now these animals are tearing up the woods and associated ecosystems, doing an tremendous amount of damage. And, they are dangerous to boot. Nice play, Shakespeare!

Meanwhile, back in the city, Carrie and I decided that the architecture really lent itself well to photography. Sadly, the really good light was in the morning, when we didn't have our cameras out. We had to make do in the late afternoon instead. There were lots of old stores - dating to the mid- to late 1800s.

This giant orange thing, which looks like an upside-down bucket of movie theater popcorn, is part of the planetarium, which is where the conference was held.

Some of the stores were empty.

While others sported some interesting decorations, like this in a cigar shop window:

From an interpreter's point of view, this sign was pretty cool. It was transparent - glass or plexiglass. It was historic images of the city, with the current buildings visible through the panel. Pretty neat idea.

And here's the boat that I missed. These shots were taken the next day.

That's a crow up near the crow's nest - couldn't resist.

The whole river front is very nicely developed with a brick walk way, nice railings and moorings for boats...very attractive.

We didn't quite get this tribute to the yolkless hard-boiled egg, though.

Loved this little tugboat!

One of the best parts of the conference was the Share-a-thon. Lots of good ideas, and lots of freebies.

Here are my two favorite things. One, the Wolpertinger:

And two, the creation of a solar system that each of us discovered. What a GREAT activity! First, you spray paint your white poster board with assorted colors.

Then you strategically place paper plates over the colored sections and paint the whole thing with black spray paint.

Finally, you remove the plates, sprinkle on some glitter for stars, add a squirt for a comet, and voila!

...you have some really neat outer space artwork. I could've done this all day! Creative folks had moons, gas clouds...you are limited only by your imagination.

On our way back home Saturday, we stopped by a school that has put in two gorgeous rain gardens.

These projects were solely the idea of the fifth grade class about six years ago, before rain gardens were "in." They looked outside one day and saw all the puddles and the vast amount of water that was pouring into the storm drain during a major rain storm and asked their teacher what could be done about it. Right then and there they trooped on down to the principal's office and, well, here's the result.

The original drain is still there, but now it only drains water once or twice a year, instead of hundreds of gallons with every storm. These kids did a wonderful thing for their local environment.

The insects and the birds agree.

So, it was a glorious weekend, and we got some good out of it. I also came home with a doozie of a cold, which I think was already incubating before we went up.

Things Falling from Trees

2011-10-02T13:21:00.000-04:00

Well...y'know, they don't call it "fall" for nuthin', nosiree. This time of year there's all sorts of stuff falling out of trees. Why, one might just be advised not to go out one's front door without wearing a hardhat!

Sure, we all know about the leaves turning color and falling to the ground:

And then there are the random assorted nuts that come plopping down:

walnuts

acorns

hickory nuts

And every so often a caterpillar may come tumbling out of a tree, or swing in the air as it lowers itself down on a silken line:

Sure, none of those should cause one trepidation - the worst that might happen is a walnut might conk you on the noggin, but it won't do any real damage.

But the other day, while Toby and I were on our evening stroll, I saw these:

Good gracious! What in the world are those? No...it can't be! Is it...really? Well, bless my buttons, by golly it is! It's an osage orange!

I haven't seen one of these since my dendrology days in college - 1985! And those were specimens planted as ornamentals in a cemetery near campus, and they were small trees (key word being "small," as in 6-8' tall at most). Where we were walking that evening, there were no "small" trees.

I looked around...and up. And there they were - up high in the branches!

The bark is characteristically deeply furrowed. And there were quite a number of them, all planted in a row along the road's edge. Their presence here was intentional.

I wracked my brain to see if I could remember anything about osage oranges, and nothing came to mind, except that one of my friends referred to them as brain fruit (the knobby green balls look sort of like brains). I asked at work - are osage oranges native to Michigan (I kind of had it in mind that they were southern trees)?

It turns out the answer is yes and no. The osage orange (Maclura pomifera), aka horse-apple, was apparently only found historically in parts of Oklahoma, Texas and Arkansas. How on earth did it end up here in Michigan, or anywhere else, for that matter? It's not like a squirrel is going to grab one of the fruits, run off with it and bury it somewhere - the fruit probably weighs at least three times as much as a squirrel! Ditto birds. And the wind certainly isn't going to carry it off to places unknown (well...maybe some of those tornadoes, for which Oklahoma is famous).

As with so many plants, it turns out that man was the agent of its dispersal. Not for the fruit (I'll get to that in a moment), but for the wood. Along with black locust, osage orange was highly desired for the making of fenceposts. It is a sturdy, hard wood, and it is slow to decay. It is also, apparently, fairly resistant to many insects. So, as people moved around the West and Midwest, herding their cattle and whatnot, they needed to mark their borders and keep the livestock contained. For that, they needed fences, and the wood of this tree was ideal. Therefore, it behooved these settlers to bring the trees with them as they moved - and seeds are a whole lot easier to pack than fence posts and whole trees (or at least they were over a hundred years ago, before haulage firms were around to cart massive loads from one part of the continent to another).

What about the fruits, though? Are they edible? They certainly don't look terribly appealing. Well, I was dying to know what the inside of an osage orange looked like, and I'm sure you are, too. So, I brought one in to work, where I just happened to have my hatchet. A couple good whacks, and here we are:

Ta-da! Not quite what you were expecting? I didn't know what to expect, so I would've been surprised by anything. Essentially, it is a solid mass of...well...stuff. The brown bits toward the center are the seeds, each of which is tethered by fibers to a lump on the outside. Sometimes the fruits have no seeds at all.
The very center of the fruit is solid, and as we stood there marveling at it, the center started to ooze.

The thick white sap is a sticky latex, not unlike that found in milkweed and dandelions (I know, for I stuck my finger in it).

For the most part, the fruits are inedible (no kidding). The literature says it's not, strictly speaking, a poisonous fruit, but if you attempt to eat it, you may end up with a serious case of vomiting. You've been warned. Sometimes squirrels will tear the fruits apart to get to the seeds, but I'll bet it isn't very often - even squirrels don't want to get covered with the sticky sap.

So what in the world is the evolutionary purpose of such a fruit? Like I said, nothing (really) eats it, the wind can't blow it, animals don't carry it off to bury - so how in the world can it spread? If the fruits just drop at the base of the tree, and maybe roll a foot or two, it isn't going to increase its range except maybe at a glacial pace.

Well...and this is very cool...a recent hypothesis has been put forth that this fruit was once eaten by (drum roll please) a giant ground sloth! And there were four species of these critters around during the Pleistocene, two of which (Jefferson's and Harlan's) called the Midwest home. These guys were about the size of an ox. Here's an artist's rendering of what one might have looked like:

(http://exhibits.museum.state.il.us/exhibits/larson/sloth.html)

And, amazingly, they ranged about the same part of the future US (sort of) as the osage orange trees!

(http://exhibits.museum.state.il.us/exhibits/larson/sloth.html)

These giant herbivores hung around with mammoths, mastodons and gomphotheres, all of which went extinct shortly after the first humans came on the scene. Hm.

Some think that there was a now-extinct horse ancestor that also might have enjoyed the fruits and spread the seeds around, based on the fact that modern horses sometimes gnosh on the fruits.

As for me, I'm just grateful that one of these massive fruits hasn't falled from the trees as I walk or drive under them. I imagine it could put quite a dent in a car roof, and likely break a window. It certainly would hurt if it hit one's head.

So, what did I do with the orange after we opened it up to see its innards? Well, the literature said they float, so I lobbed the pieces into our pond, just to see. Lo! and behold, they floated! Maybe Todd the Turtle would try sampling them.

Old Cemeteries

2011-09-26T11:36:00.000-04:00

In addition to old cars, I like old cemeteries. Okay - I like lots of old things. But, I digress.

On my way home from the Fall Festival, I stopped at this small, old cemetery that is down at the end of my road. There are fewer than 100 stones in this lot, and none are terribly recent. Most are from the 19th century, and most are in pretty poor repair.

Is the earth reclaiming this stone, or was it vandalized

and only this short piece remains?

It's always sad to see the stones of infants and children.

Several stones were embraced by trees.

And a good number of the stones had willows on them:

There must be some significance to this, because there so many. So, I did a little quick research, and it turns out that in the first half of the 1800s, there was quite a revival of interest in all things Greek (just look at the dresses and hairstyles of the time...and architecture). This carried over into cemeteries, with urns and willows featuring quite prominently on gravestones. Apparently willows were the symbol of the Greek goddess of the underworld: Peresphone. Not only that, but Orpheus was said to have carried a willow branch with him when he went into the underworld. Willows, it seems, were the most popular gravestone image up until about 1860. This certainly is supported in this cemetery.

I also came across a reference that said that willows were used to signify the graves of Iroquois. Hm. This isn't Iroquois country, so I think we can rule this out. And I don't recall anything from Iroquois stories that suggested that the willow held any particular significance to the Iroquois nation. Does anyone know about this?

This last marker, well, I just thought the name was unusual. I've heard of Althea, but never Altha.

And she was all by herself - no other family around.

Clinton Township Fall Festival

2011-09-26T11:14:00.002-04:00

A friend told me that this last weekend was the Clinton Fall Festival. With autumn in the air, I was in the mood for a fall fest, so Saturday morning I decided to check it out. It was less than 20 miles away - a good deal.

Well, who knew it was such a popular event!

Upon arrival at the outskirts of town, I blew right by the first venue: the antique car show! Turned around and headed back. Good thing, too, because it was one of the few places where there was parking.

I love old cars. They have character. They are fun. They have beautiful lines. Today's cars, by comparison, are pretty darn dull and boring. Here are some shots of my favorites.

I loved the reflection in this tire, but had a hard time getting it -

people kept walking by!

Now, I think this window visor is great! Why don't we have these today?
From Dad: G'pa R had a car with the windshield visor. It helped to keep snow off (almost - there was a gap between the rear edge and the car body) but it never was designed to be raised or lowered.

This person obviously had a thing for tigers (how many can you count?):

Update from Dear Ol' Dad: Esso gasoline had an ad campaign re: putting a tiger in your tank -- and one could purchase tiger tail (imitations) to hang out of the trunk and over your bumper.

Fins! Lots of fins...and lots of land yachts!

I love these! So beautiful!

And how cool is this vintage van!

We had VW buses when I was a kid, but they didn't quite look like this one:

The placement of the license plate on this truck caught my eye. I've never seen on like that before.

After viewing the vehicles, I grabbed the shuttle bus to the rest of the festival, which was downtown.

There are a lot of neat old buildings here, including an old wool mill that I had a great view of from the bus, but when I walked back past it later on, I was too short to get any decent shots. Perhaps I'll try on another visit. Meanwhile, here is the clocktower downtown:

There were dogs of all sizes and shapes out and about at the Festival. Lots of puppies.

And, to wrap up, here are some shots of vendors - they capture the flavor of the season.

This last image is a booth of "Witches' Hats." And it was probably one of the most popular booths there! I saw many women, of all ages, walking around wearing their newly purchased black hats. And no, I didn't get one, but I was tempted...a little. No, instead, I bought an old-fashioned washboard. I got a lot of strange looks for that, but, well, y'see, sometimes you have to wash things in the sink, and, while doing just that this last week, I found myself wishing I had one of those old washboards. Ask and you shall receive, eh? I count myself very fortunate.

That's a Lotta Watta!

2011-09-23T14:31:00.002-04:00

I just received the Long Lake e-Newsletter and on it was this photo. It doesn't say, but I'm presuming this was taken after Hurricane Irene hit. (Update - nope. This was from the flooding this spring, back in April.) That's the Adirondack Hotel in downtown Long Lake - and that's Long Lake lappin' the front porch. Normally, about where the person is holding the camera is the town beach, which looks across Route 30 at the Hotel. Do you see a beach? A road? Nope - the lake flooded right over both! And here I thought Keene had taken the worst hit! Looks like Newcomb was surrounded by damage, but squeaked by with only a token amount of rain.

Here's a video I just found from when the water started to recede:

And here's another this one from the Long Lake, NY blog:

Random Stuff

2011-09-17T13:00:00.000-04:00

Earlier this week, while on our evening walk, I noticed a sulphur buttefly deceased along the side of the road. I didn't think much of it - we often find butterflies and moths who had terminal encounters with vehicles.

But then I found another.

And another.

And groups of them!

I only found two survivors, and this one I'm not sure actually made it. What in the world happened? On the way home, I counted 44 bodies in about a quarter-mile stretch. This was not normal. The only thing I could think of was puddling. This road is a dirt road, and we'd recently had a fair bit of rain. Could all these butterflies have been puddling, and then gotten run into by vehicles that either didn't see them or didn't care? I can think of no other explanation.

On a cheerier, note, however, we also saw this kestrel! It really liked this oak tree (lots of birds do, especially starlings, which nest in its many cavities). It soared around a bit, then came to rest in the tree. Took off, flapped around, returned to rest. I'm glad to see this bird - I haven't seen a wild kestrel for many years - just the merlins in the Adirondacks.

Meanwhile, at work, we had someone bring us this mystery caterpillar:

We looked and looked in our caterpillar ID books, but to no avail. I finally sent this shot off to BugGuide and the answer came back "dogwood sawfly." Not a moth or caterpillar at all! It turns out that this larva is quite a pest of dogwoods. The adult is a fly, but looks somewhat like a wasp, but it's the larva that does the damage. Now, I didn't see it listed as a non-native insect, so, although it does damage to dogwoods, it must be a native insect, and therefore, part of the circle of life for our native plants. If you have ornamental dogwoods, well, that's something else. Go native - the plants and their associated critters are used to each other. You will get some damage, but that is natural! Plants are food - not museum specimens.

Grab a Tissue

2011-09-10T11:37:00.000-04:00

Every day when I come home, and every morning when I leave, there is someone who is there for me - my dog Toby.

These days, however, his age is really showing. He's got quite a hitch in his get-along, stairs are a real challenge. He often stumbles when we walk, and tall grass is a nightmare. He drinks water like there's no tomorrow, which is unusual for him (when he first came to live with me, it practically took an act of congress to get him to drink). His bladder isn't what it used to be.

Despite all this, he is always there for me. Any pat on the head, any kind word, he appreciates it. Even if I don't toss the ball any more, and our walks are short, and I'm out of the house all day, come home late and soon got to bed - he still seems to appreciate the time we have together.

It is hard to know if "it is time."

Anyway, today I saw this video, and it beautifully demonstrates why we love our animals so. Sure, it's all anthropomorphic, but it is beautiful...and I challenge anyone to get through it with a dry eye.

Very Cool Caterpillar

2011-09-08T10:55:00.001-04:00

How cool is that!?!

You can read all about it on my other blog here. (I posted the video on this blog as back-up in case it didn't post over there.)

Examining Grasses

2011-08-31T18:39:00.000-04:00

Fall is when our native grasses come into their own. I am thrilled to live in an area where once tall grass prairies were part of the landscape, and, more importantly, where patches of this ecosystem still exist.

For years I have loved the russets, purples and subtle reds that the grasses display, but this is the first time I've had the opportunity to really examine grasses up close (outside the Ice Meadows on the Hudson River).

The colors are astounding. The shapes, the bits and pieces - they delight the eye.

Today I've been examining the photos I recently took of one of our native grasses: big bluestem (Andropogon gerardi). Just what are all those colorful parts...and why aren't the colors consistent from plant to plant? Does it have to do with degree of ripeness?

First up, we have a blurry picture of big bluestem (blurry because, as usual, the wind started to blow once I took out my macro lens - really must build a wind box if I'm going to keep at this). Note the pink feathery bits and the yellow or orange bits.

Here is another image. Pink feathery bits and yellow bits - not an orange bit to be seen anywhere.

And, finally, specimen three. Its feathery bits are a pale yellow, bordering on pale green. The other bits are pink with barely yellow tips - not yellow or orange at all.

What is going on?

First I had to figure out what all these bits are. These are flowers, after all, so the bits must be similar to any other flower: anthers, stamens, stigmas, ovaries, sepals, etc.

It took a while, but I finally tracked down a sketch of the parts of a grass flower. Here's what I found out.

The feathery bits are the stigmas - part of the female reproductive system. They are attached, via a style, to the ovary, which you cannot see in these photos as it is tucked inside. The stigma is the part that "receives the pollen." The feathery nature of the stigma sure makes sense, since grass pollen is blown about by the wind. I love these bits - one doesn't expect to find feathers growing on a plant.

The dangly bits, be they yellow, orange or pink, are the anthers. This is the terminal part of the male reproductive system, and it is here that the pollen is made. The thread-like bit attached to the anther is the filament, and that's what tethers the anther in place.

The long scales are the sepals, which are modified, sterile leaves. Sometimes sepals can be quite colorful and mistaken for flower petals. And as colorful as they might be, these grass sepals will never be mistaken for petals.

If you see what look like long hairs at the tips of the sepals, these are the awns. On some plants the awns act as triggers, which are activated when an insect (or a bumbling naturalist) brushes against them, sometimes (depending on the plant) causing an explosive release of pollen (see this post I wrote about bunchberry).

As for the colors, well, I still don't know. I suspect, though, that they reflect the age of the plant. I know my coloration is certainly changing as I age!

Do You Ever Feel Like...

2011-08-30T13:35:00.000-04:00

...you are being watched?

Me, neither, but yesterday when I was mowing the back forty I looked up and saw a huge silhouette perched on top of one of my bluebird nest boxes. I was being watched by an enormous praying mantis.

Fortunately, I'm too big for it to consider for a meal.

Zap! Pow!

2011-08-25T13:56:00.001-04:00

It was a dark and stormy night...

I am in Love

2011-08-24T10:39:00.000-04:00

...with a river.

This last Sunday GREAT (The Grand River Environmental Action Team) hosted another paddle, this time on a more southerly section of the Kalamazoo River. The previous trip took us through marshland and farmland, but this section, oh, it was beautiful! And we had a perfect day for it. There was some chance of storms, but, well, you'll see what happened.

First, we all met off Goose Lake Road, west of Hanover and Horton, south of Concord. GREAT provides boats and gear for paddlers who have neither, and the trips are free - what a deal! Of course, they hope you will join. I really must mail in my membership.

So, here we are at the launch site. Paddlers included newbies, old hands, and several pups.

Due to circumstances, we launched about an hour later than intended, but soon everyone was on the river and we were off.

For about the first third or so of the trip I coached this lady along. This was her first time in a kayak, first time paddling anything, so she had a bit of a learning curve. However, she rose to the challenge and did a fantastic job! We only passed a very few houses along the way - mostly we were in wooded lands, the only signs of civilization the sound of distant chainsaws and some trash in the water.

Already the leaves have begun to change. In fact, since this trip, I've suddenly noticed a LOT of color in the trees, especially the sumacs. Autumn is on its way.

I saw several more ruby spot damselflies this trip, but this ebony jewelwing was the only damsel whose photo I took. I've learned my lesson about chasing these insects in a boat just for a photo op.

Here are some views along the river...you can see why I fell in love with it. It's just a beautiful stretch of river, and I imagine in full fall colors it is spectacular!

We passed a few glorious patches of wildflowers.

Cardinal flower was in its prime.

At one point a couple of us pulled out for a break along a sandy stretch of shoreline. Everyone comments on my Spitfire, and this gentleman was quite interested in it, so I let him take it for a spin.

We weren't the only ones enjoying the river this day. No deer or cattle were dipping their toes, but this duck was having a nice swim. She was certainly keeping an eye on me - not completely sure I was harmless.

As mentioned above, the weather reports were off and on throughout the morning. They said mostly sunny, but there was a chance of thunderstorms, especially in southern MI. Well, here came the clouds.

There were a couple rolls of thunder, and it actually spitted a little rain, but it was hardly worth the effort of putting the camera away. As quickly as the clouds rolled in, they rolled back out. Whew!

We didn't have any culverts to shoot thru, but we did get to pass under a couple small bridges.

It was simply a delightful day on the river.

I'm not sure what was happening here, but this platform, with its steps to the river and its picnic table, was posted "No Tresspassing; Violators will be Prosecuted." I wonder where the security cameras were.

All along the river we could see the devastation left behind by the emerald ash borers. Dead ash trees blanket the whole state. It's very sad.

There is very little vegetation in the river along this route. We only passed a couple patches of spatterdock, and there was hardly any submerged vegetation, unlike the previous trip.

Bright red berries (cranberry viburnum, maybe? I was passing too quickly to do more than guess) added their color to the scene.

All too soon it seemed we were at our take-out near Twin Pines Campground. This stretch of the river is quite twisty - oxbows galore. It made for a pleasant trip with a few little challenges, but perfect for a laid-back paddle on a sunny afternoon.

I'd recommend this stretch of river to anyone who is looking for a beautiful, easy paddle. I know I'm certainly going to do it again!

Not Just Another Pretty Face

2011-08-20T16:42:00.000-04:00

This Hickory Horn Devil, or, more beautifully named Regal/Royal Walnut Moth, was brought in to us at work today at the close of our Birds, Blooms and Butterflies Festival. All squashed up, it measures about four inches in length. When it is stretched out and on the move, it is much longer.

This is the first one of these I've ever seen. (In fact, today had another first for me: not one, but TWO giant swallowtails, but I'll post that another day.) This caterpillar is so impressive that wherever we carried it, it drew a crowd.

Once a common species across bottomlands, woodlands and forests, from Florida to Massachusettes and westward to Texas, it is now disappearing across much of its range. No wonder I've never seen one!

This behemoth spends a good portion of its life in suspended animation. There is only one generation per year. When the caterpillar gets ready to pupate (between August and November), it burrows into the ground, where it spends the winter in a subterranean cell - they don't spin any sort of cocoon. Now that's different.

As the name suggests, these 'pillars eat the leaves of hickory trees, but they will also consume ash, butternut, cherry, cotton, lilac, pecan, persimmon, sumac, sweet gum, sycamore and walnut. This list, apparently, it not conclusive - other species may also make up the diet. This particular horn devil was found on the ground beneath a walnut tree, so that is probably what it was eating. Right now we have it in a large jar. We are hoping it is getting ready to pupate, based on its size and the fact that the folks who found it said its head was partially buried int eh soil. So, I've filled up its jar more than halfway with soil, just in case it feels like going underground.

If/when it does bury itself, we will dig a hole and bury the jar outside for the winter. This way the animal will have the greatest chance for survival. Come spring, we will dig it up and, with fingers crossed, wait for it to emerge as an adult.

As terrifying as this caterpillar looks, it is considered to be quite harmless. I noted that when touched, it swings its head sideways, and its tail end, making itself into a sideways c-shape. Perhaps this is to scare off potential predators into thinking they are about to be gored. However, when asked if she would hold it for a photo for me, so I could have a size reference, one of my coworkers said absolutely note. She said that these caterpillars have a "strong grip," and looking at those claspers, I don't doubt her at all.

Below is (hopefully) a video of this wee beastie as it took off across the desk during the photoshoot.

You Lookin' at Me?

2011-08-16T15:15:00.000-04:00

Quick Prairie Flowers

2011-08-09T12:14:00.000-04:00

It's a Tuesday morning, which means a group is here to walk the trails and get some natural history learning. I wanted to release the stinkpot (see update in previous post), so joined the group this morning. The group's goal this morning was to find more monarch butterfly eggs on the milkweeds out in the prairie, so I knew we'd be looking at flowers. Here are a few quick snapshots of what we saw:

First up, green-headed (or tall) coneflower.

I've been wondering how to tell the green-headed from the grey-headed, because to me, they both have sort of greenish centers. It turns out that the green-headed has shorter, fatter centers, and the petals don't "blow back" anywhere near as far as they do on the grey-headed. Mystery solved!

Tick trefoils are out and blooming quite well right now. A couple of us had out our Newcomb's and were trying to figure out which one this was. We think it is panicled, another native!

This lovely purple flower had us all scratching our heads for a while. It's not in Newcomb's. However, I took out my Michigan Wildflowers book when I got back to the office and there it was.

This is field milkwort. What a lovely, lovely flower. And it doesn't look at all like racemed milkwort, the first milkwort I met, which looks a lot like gaywings. The only similarity between this milkwort and that is the color! Still, they are in the same family, so there must be some other traits they share, like the narrow leaves.

Tall sunflower - not necessarily as tall as you might think from the name. These small-flowered sunflowers are quite beautiful and blend in with all the other coreopsises (coreposii?) and yellow-flowered prairie plants. One needs a keen eye, a good field guide, and a sense of curiosity to get out and find the differences.

We didn't ID this little sunflower.

Here's the coreopsis I noted last week (perhaps on the Dahlem blog). Turns out, it is called oxe-eye, and shouldn't be confused with oxe-eye daisy, which is an entirely different plant. Oxe-eye is also known as false sunflower (why, I don't know, because it is in the sunflower family). This one also had us on a merry chase to try and ID.

And, it turns out the ironweed is indeed New York ironweed, not common ironweed. Huzzah!

Wee Stinkpot

2011-08-06T16:39:00.001-04:00

It was after 9:00 last night when Toby and I headed out for our walk. I was hoping the heat and humidity would be down, but it was only marginally so. The sun was only starting to set, so there was plenty of light, but even so, I brought a flashlight along just in case.

We don't go very far these days, partly because of the weather, and partly because poor Toby is having some difficulty getting around. His get-along has quite a few hitches in it, and he stumbles more often than I like. So, we were only heading up about a quarter mile or so from the house. Just as we were getting ready to turn around, he caught a scent and began pursuing it across the grass. I noticed a small black lump in the grass, which I thought maybe was a bit of broken branch, or perhaps a chunk of asphalt. It turned out to be a small turtle:

As you can see, I brought it home. Partly for ID purposes, partly because I felt so sorry for the thing. Here's what it's shell looks like:

This poor fellow has seen some rough days! Encounters with lawnmowers? Combines? Who knows - but he's certainly had luck healing, even from this hole:

This is one of the musk turtles (Sternotherus sp), which share a family (Kinosternidae) with mud turtles (Kinosteron sp.). This particular musk turtle is the stinkpot (S. odoratum), also known as a common musk turtle, skillpot, and stinking Jim. Hm...must be they are smelly. My little specimen here isn't particularly odiferous, but according to the literature, they have "four musk-producing glands whose tiny pinpoint orifices may be seen on the underside of the marginal scutes of the carapace. Freshly captured individuals often produce a drop of the yellowish musk from each of the glands." (Amphibians and Reptiles of New York State, by Gibbs, Breisch, Ducy, Johnson, Behler and Bothner.) Apparently the stink is not enough to drive away predators - my specimen might be evidence of that.

Another book claims that these turtles are feisty little biters, capable of reaching their back legs with their powerful jaws. Hm! Awfully glad I didn't know that when I picked him up and carried him home. He pretty much drew himself into his shell (there is a hinge on the front end of the lower shell, or plastron) and stayed there. He pulled his front legs and head inside, and tucked up his back legs and tail - almost completely hidden.

The way to tell the males from females is based primarily on the size of the plastron. A male stinkpot has a very small plastron, which allows him greater mobility - his legs can move around a whole lot more without that shell getting in the way. Also, males have thicker tails that are tipped with a blunt nail. Females have thinner tails, and may or may not have the nail. My guy here hasn't given me a good look at his tail yet, so I can't confirm the nail.

My Audubon field guide to reptiles and amphibians claims that if you are walking along in the woods and a "rock" falls on your head, it is probably a stinkpot, for these turtles are quite able climbers. How 'bout that, eh?! Maybe that's why this one is so beat up!

I like the two little barbels under his chin. What purpose do those serve, I wonder.

This is a water turtle, not a land tortoise, which is why I was so surprised to find it in someone's yard last night. I'm in an agricultural area, with lots of fields. I'm also near some state wildlife lands, and there are shallow ponds around, but not all that close to where we stood there on the roadside. The nearest body of water was probably at least a half mile away. Seems an awfully long way for this guy to have come.

Normally, musk turtles are found in wetlands with shallow, muddy waters that have little to no current. My book claims they don't wander far. Once again, I wonder why he was where I found him.

One of the things I love about these little turtles is the nose. It's a little piggy nose, and makes a pretty nice snorkel when one is walking along the bottom of a shallow pond or stream.

For now this little guy is taking a well-earned rest in a terrarium at work. I was going to make it an aquarium, since he is aquatic, but there's a tag on the tank that says "do not fill with water." So, I filled an artificial pond for him and gave him a couple worms. Next week, when I get back to work, I will take him out on the property and turn him loose in our glacial pond - it is a good shallow wetland that is well off the beaten path and far enough from roads that he should have a good remainder to his life.

Turtle Update: When I came in to work this morning, the turtle was out and about in the tank. I was thrilled! I didn't see the worms, so I'm hoping he ate those. The Tuesday Morning group was going out for their weekly walk and I decided to join them, with the goal of releasing the turtle at the glacial pond. He was very active when I took him out of the tank - stuck out his long neck and pushed at my fingers and hand with his feet. He was rarin' to go! I placed him in a container and off we went. I didn't quite get down to the water's edge; it's quite marshy around the perimeter of the pond, and since the grasses were so tall I couldn't quite see where I was going, I went as far as I felt comfortable going (while simultaneously fending off hundreds of mosquitoes), and set him down with his face towards the water. The rest is up to him.

Ponderables

2011-08-05T11:16:00.001-04:00

I came across this video lecture today via a link in the Michigan Alliance for Environmental and Outdoor Education's e-newsletter. It is something, in my humble opinion, that everyone should watch.

Why?

This video addresses the history of the Weeks Act, which is what enabled the establishment of national forests, especially in the east. What makes it remarkable, is how issues of the mid-1800s are still the issues of today. The arguments for, and against, land preservation are amazingly similar.

Anyone today who advocates the "drill, baby, drill" mentality should take the time to actually listen to what Char Miller is saying in this presentation. And I do mean LISTEN. Don't listen with your mind closed and your agenda the only thing within your vision. The phrase "those who don't know their history are bound to repeat it" is so very true - and it is painfully obvious when it comes to our natural resources.

So, if you can, at some point, set aside about an hour of your day to watch this video. It might just open your eyes as to why preserving our natural areas is important.

Char Miller on the Legacy of the Weeks Act from Pinchot Institute on Vimeo.

The Larvae in My Life

2011-08-04T12:03:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I posted on my garden blog a photo taken a couple days ago of a tomato hornworm in my garden. It was covered with the white pupal cases of a braconid wasp that had parasitized it. Last night I went back into the garden to see if I could find it again, and I did. It wasn't looking too happy. Upon closer inspection, I noted that the pupal cases had all "hatched" - the wasps had matured, emerged and flown away.

According to the literature, the caterpillar should be dead by now, since the wasp larvae had mostly turned its innards into soup before pupating. Yet this fellow was still hanging in there. It raised it's head when I plucked its leaf from the tomato plant. By the end of the photo shoot, however, it was decidedly more limp. Bummer for the hornworm, but GREAT for the garden - more little pasarsitoidal wasps have entered the world to wreak havoc on the hornworm population!

Not all caterpillars are detrimental, at least from a human standpoint. Case in point - here we have a curled up leaf on a native spicebush plant. What could be inside?

Oo! Peek-a-boo! Look at that!

This green and yellow lovely is a spicebush swallowtail caterpillar. Like all caterpillars, it eats the leaves of its host plant, in this case the spicebush. However, it doesn't seem to destroy the whole plant like, oh, say, the tomato hornworms do. These are lovely black and blue butterflies when they become adults.

This beautiful little caterpillar was perishing on the sidewalk out in front of the office when I found it a couple weeks ago. I knew it didn't wasn't long for this world, so I brought it in to photograph and ID. We thought it looked similar to the cecropia moth caterpillar, so that 's where I started. Sure enough - it was on the page opposite the cecropia in my caterpillar ID book: a tulip tree moth larva. The tulip tree moth is a silk moth, like the cecropia, and as an adult it sports large brown wings with tan and white markings. According to this book, when the adults emerge, the main courtship flight takes place about 15 minutes before dusk high in the air near the tops of the tulip trees. It is something to look for!

Lazy Hazy Dayz of Summer

2011-07-19T09:28:00.000-04:00

Here in the Midwest we are stuck under a "heat bubble." Texas to Michigan, we are all suffering together in ridiculously hot and humid weather. Bleh.

So, what's a girl to do? Why, go paddling, of course!

On Sunday, GREAT (The Grand River Environmental Action Team) was hosting a paddle on the northern branch of the Kalamazoo River. I had my doubts at first, for it was in the 90s, with humidity in the 90s, and the paddle would go through the hottest part of the day (it began at noon). But, I loaded the Spitfire anyway and drove an hour to the put-in spot. They had a shuttle service set up, so after dropping off our boats, we drove to the take-out up in Albion and caught a ride back to Kings Road.

I was one of the last boats in the water, and because I was being a naturalist, I soon was the last boat.

How wonderful to see some old friends, like pickerel weed.

It was a day for damselflies. If I saw one, I must've seen a thousand this day, mostly ebony jewelwings and these little tiny bluets.

Most of the river passed through open land...no shade to be had.

There were plenty of wild roses blooming along the banks.

Another old friend, arrowhead, was blooming in fair profusion. Some were submerged, which was odd since we haven't really had any rain to speak of in a long while.

This damselfly led me on a merry chase. It's an American rubyspot, and when it flies, it flashes a brilliant red from its wings, as if the sun was glaring off a ruby. It is a very nervous insect and just wouldn't sit still for a photograph. I must've chased about a dozen of these before I finally got one decent shot.

There were quite a number of these blinds along the river. Somehow, I doubt they are bird blinds...unless they are for duck hunters. Maybe they are deer blinds?

Parts of the Kalamazoo were quite shallow. Twice I got hung up on a sand bar. According to Gary, this is a good river for brown trout, which apparently can reach some prodigious sizes.

By this time I was well behind the rest of the paddlers, so I had high hopes of seeing some wildlife. As I was drifting along (the current was pretty good), I started to hear this splashing and sucking noise. Off to my left, a tributary entered the main waterway. I saw some ripples on the water's surface and thought that perhaps one of the other paddlers had taken a detour to see what was up the channel. As I passed and turned around to look upstream, this is what I saw:

When she saw me, she froze. Then she decided that I was just too scarey and she took off - behind her was a second deer, who bolted around the bend before I could capture its image.

A short while later I also saw a sandhill crane's head peeking above the tall vegetation, but it ducked before I could get a photo.

I was now entering some farm lands.

The presence of electric fence on posts in the river was not reassuring. This must mean that cattle are allowed in the river. While on the one hand this seems to make sense, for the animals can drink and wallow to stay cool to their bovine hearts' content, but from a river health point of view, it is not so good. Cattle cause a great deal of erosion along riverbanks, and we won't even mention the "pollution" they add to the water.

Now, I've paddled down rivers when I've had to go around cattle (I'm thinking of the Raritan in New Jersey). It's interesting. But I was glad to not see any cows today. However, one of the trip leaders later asked me if I'd seen the cows in the water - apparently they were bathing when she went by.

It's milkweed season. I'm thinking this is swamp milkweed, with the narrower leaves.

Here we are at our first obstacle. One of the trip leaders was stationed here to guide boats to the left side of the river, so they could line up for a shot under the bridge and through the rapids.

Here's the line-up...

...and here we go! Woo-hoo!

Bank beavers! I guess this was the biggest surprise of the trip for me. I don't expect to see beavers down here in farm country. To me, beavers are animals of the northern wilderness. But, according to Gary, they are definitely here in the Kalamazoo.

Vervain. A very tall vervain. My wildflower book is at home (I looked at it before I left the house at 6:15 this morning), so I can't tell you which vervain this is right now. I'll come back to that.

More farms.

And another damselfly. This one is a river jewelwing. Like the ebony jewelwings, these damsels have beautiful metallic blue or green bodies, but only the tips of their wings are black. Just for the record, photographing damselflies who won't sit still from a boat that is drifting on a swift current is not easily done. I'm lucky this is as clear as it is!

Halfway there, Kenny, GREAT's president, was on the bridge to document each paddler's journey. Here's my photo of Kenny taking of a photo of me taking a photo of him.

Shrubby cinquefoil was in bloom in a few places along the river. HM...it seems like a good number of the plants I saw this day were species I saw every summer in the Adirondacks. I guess they do just as well in warm, alkaline areas (southern Michigan) as they do in cooler, more acidic habitats (Adirondacks).

My attention was grabbed by a bird flitting around this tree. Then I spied the hole. It was a bird with a nest in a cavity. I crashed into the bank, had to extricate myself and reposition the boat so I could get a photo. The sun, of course, was behind the bird, so everything is in silhouette, but I'm pretty sure it was a bluebird in its natural habitat! No nestboxes for this bluebird - it was nesting in a cavity in a tree. Huzzah!

Obstacle number two: the culverts.

For those who were unsure of their skills, Kathy, another member of the GREAT crew, was on hand to maneuver boats into position.

Some paddlers guided their own boats through.

I was among the latter group and got myself lined up to shoot through. Actually, the water wasn't moving too swiftly at this point. so it was a slow shoot.

Woo-hoo! And out the other end!

Everyone made it through safe and sound.

Farming has a long history in this part of the state, and evidence of older claims still dot the landscape.

Shade! This was the only bit of shade the whole seven miles of the trip (not counting the three bridges and the culvert). Ahhhhh.

I was quite taken with this bridge. Something about its architecture just appealed to me.

And here I just couldn't believe my eyes - bat houses! Not one, but two, side-by-side, and of good size! Someone here likes bats and knows the proper way to build and erect bat houses! The river was moving right along here and I was well past them before I was able to get the camera up for a shot. I wonder if any bats are using them. It's certainly a good location, right here along the river.

We were definitely nearing civilization now, for some lovely homes were perched right along the river banks, we could hear traffic, and we saw construction. Still, at this spot the river entered a bit of a marsh.

I'm thinking it's probably quite buggy along here at night.

And suddenly, we were at the take out! How quickly the trip went by. I didn't think I'd been paddling all that fast, but the current moved us right along, so seven miles passed in only a couple hours or so.

I highly recommend this trip. It was a very pleasant paddle, and even with the heat and humidity, it wasn't too bad on the water. Sure, the sweat was dripping off my chin when we took out and began loading boats and gear, but on the river there was just enough of a breeze to keep it tolerable, and with a big floppy hat and my three-liter camelbak hydration system, I was quite comfortable.

Thank you, GREAT, for a terrific trip! For more information about GREAT, visit their website. These are good folks who have done a LOT to clean up the Grand River, and who sponsor paddling trips around much of the greater Jackson area.

A Morning En Route to the Fen

2011-07-11T12:54:00.000-04:00

Friday I decided it was high time I went out on the trails, especially since I had heard of some good finds out in our little fen. So, camera in hand, I hit the trails.

My first stop was the native plant gardens around the end of our building. These gardens have been established to show visitors a) what our native plants look like and b) how they can be just as lovely in our gardens as any horticultural plant from overseas.

The showstopper right now is Queen of the Prairie, which is blooming beautifully! I had one of these show up in the "wild area" of my yard back in Newcomb - no one knew what it was, for it isn't a native plant for the Adirondacks. How it got there, we will never know.

In the woods and along the ways pokeweed is just starting to bloom. This is a plant I learned a year or two ago from my friend Jackie, who introduced it to me along a canal near Schuylerville, after we stopped at a cider mill for apples, cider and homemade donuts.

We have quite a healthy population of pokeweed here. In fact, here is a shot of me in front of our most robust population of this plant. I am just under 5.5' tall, and these plants, as you can see, are well above my head. They are a native plant, which produces purple berries later in the season. These berries are hugely important to our birds, so this is a great plant to have on your property if you want to attract wildlife!

The small pond out along the trail is carpeted in green. The hot weather and lack of rain seem to have done the pond plants well.

My goal, however, was the prairie and the fen. What was blooming? I was wasn't surprised to find butterflyweed flowering, since it is in bloom all over the place. This member of the milkweed family does very very well out here in southern Michigan.

The spiderworts are starting to fade, so soon there will be seeds to collect. This fella, though, wasn't after the seeds. When I tried to look this caterpillar up, I came across two possibilities: salt marsh moth and yellow bear. I sent the image off to BugGuide and it immediately came back identified as the salt marsh moth. Really? But there are no salt marshes around here. Turns out, we have to look at the history of this critter to understand how it got its name. It was named in the 1770s, when it was "discovered" by early settlers, who first found it along the eastern coast, in the salt marshes. This moth, however, lives in other habitats, but the name stuck.

Bee Balm! Monarda! Here we have our native monarda, which is such a lovely lavender color. I had some of this in my gardens in Newcomb, but it is so nice to see it growing in the wild, where it belongs. A favorite of butterflies, bees and hummingbirds, it is a native plant we should all encourage.

I was a bit surprised to see a lobelia in the prairie. This is spiked lobelia, and while it is a native prairie plant, in my mind I still see lobelias as wetland species.

Another new plant for me was blooming out on the prairie: flowering spurge. Like so many of the plants here, it had a difficult time identifying this, but one of our staff sat right down with me and worked it out. "I'm pretty sure its a spurge," he said, and sure enough, with some intense thumbing through books, we found it. Apparently once we reach mid- to late summer, these plants will make the prairie look like it is covered with baby's breath.

Black/brown-eyed Susans are just coming out now, too. Nothing says summer quite like these lovely sunny flowers.

Here we are at the fen, my target. I was surprised by just how much water was out here. We haven't really had any rain of any significance for about a month (writes she, as a humdinger of a thunderstorm rolls overhead), and yet there were channels of water still out in the fen.

This was my target: sticky tofieldia. It was "discovered" out here last week by a fen specialist from The Nature Conservancy, making it a new plant for our native plant list. I know this plant from the Ice Meadows along the Hudson River in the Adirondacks, so I was delighted to find it here.

Now, this plant really threw me for a loop. I thought "loosestrife" when I saw it, but it wasn't swamp candles and it wasn't fringed. Nothing else matched it in my Newcomb's Field Guide. I was frustrated. When I came back to the office, Mark took one look at it and said "Oh, that's prairie loosestrife." Which, just for the record, is NOT in Newcomb's! Whew! I was beginning to lose all faith in my favorite flower book and in my skills at keying out plants!

It was definitely a dragonfly sort of day. This lovely twelve-spotted dragonfly obliged me with a perfect pose on a twig in its territory along the edge of the trail.

My favorite, however, was this one. When I saw it, what caught my eye was a flash of copper - metallic copper. The flash washed across the wings and body alike. I tried to sneak up on it to snap a photo, but the flighty thing just wouldn't stay still in one place long enough. It was frustrating. But, then I discovered that there were quite a number of them darting about the prairie. With extreme patience, I was finally able to get a couple shots good enough for ID: it is an immature male widow skimmer.

Finally, when I was back in the woods, I ran across a couple populations of these small, woolly insects. I thought they were some kind of woolly aphid, but when I sent the photo off to BugGuide, it turned out to be a juvenile flatid planthopper - Anormenis chloris.

So, it turned out to be a great day of discovery. Several new plants, some new insects - what more could a girl want?!

Odds and Ends

2011-07-11T12:14:00.000-04:00

Thursday, while cutting food for our caterpillars at work, I found this egg case. It was difficult to photograph because the outside was hard and shiny. It turns out that it is the egg case of the eastern tent caterpillar. HM...now what to do? Tent caterpillars are certainly destructive, but I believe they are a native insect, so it's hard to be totally against them.

Meanwhile, our search continues for monarch eggs and larvae. It's been a poor year so far for monarchs. These things tend to go in cycles, but down years are always so sad. The wee caterpillar I brought in perished, and so did one of the two older ones we had. The survivor, however has become a crysalis, so we are very happy about that.

We were even happier when Carrie (one of our naturalists) found these three monarch eggs out in the Children's garden.

Monarch eggs are very small - it takes a good eye to find them.

My walks along the roadside have turned up another new plant! This one is a wild four o'clock, which took us quite some time to ID. It's another native (whoo-hoo!) and is rather lovely. In some areas this plant can become a weed, probably because it does so well in dry, sandy soils.

It's gotta be summer, for the chickory is blooming!

All around this area we have wild grapes. Dare I compare it to kudzu? Wild grape vines are draped over almost every surface: trees, shrubs, and even just the ground. They are native, so that's a plus, and it means the fruits are good for our native birds. And, it turns out there is more than one variety of wild grape out there. This one, I think, is summer grape, but I need to go and take a closer look at it to be sure.

I finally found some saint johnswort! I was looking for this plant last month to use for my summer solstice walk, but could I find even one? Nooooo. Now, however, it seems to be blooming everywhere. Apparently no one told the plants here in Michigan that they are supposed to bloom for the summer solstice.

Where to Start?

2011-07-08T16:55:00.000-04:00

It's been a while since I've posted, and my thoughts are all scattered. I'm sitting at the Toyota dealer, car getting a full checkup, and I have plenty of time to post. I just can't decide what to do. So, I suppose we'll just start going through photos.

Okay, here we go.

First, I want to start with a very special thank you, going out to the wonderful ladies of Newcomb's Mountain Quilters. I came home from work the other day to find a package on my porch. When I opened it, it was this lovely friendship quilt made (and signed) by my quilting friends back "home." How sweet is that?!?

Some new flowers are blooming along the roads where Toby and I walk. Here is night-flowering catchfly, a non-native plant, but one that is blooming quite profusely right now.

There are a couple plants blooming right now that to the casual eye look a lot like bladder campion, and this catchfly is one of them. The flowers, however are a bit smaller, and the "bladder" (the green pouch behind the petals, made from the sepals) is long and slender, whereas on bladder campion it is a bulging bladder (hence the name).

Meanwhile, back at work, the leaf-legged bug eggs hatched!

Unfortunately, no one was there to feed, water or release them, so they perished in the jar. Still, I was able to photograph them. What lovely babies they are.

And this,

is a fossilized mollusk I found while putting in the veg gardens at home. I'm not sure what species it is/was, so I am hoping some fossil enthusiast out there might have a lead for me. This part of the country was all underwater a few thousand years ago - Lake Michigan, which preceeded the current Lake Michigan and was larger than all the Great Lakes combined.

Yellow goatsbeard is going to seed. These seedheads are about the size of a baseball.

And they make amazing subjects for a nature photographer!

Just down the road from me, in any direction, actually, is state land. In this particular direction (north), we have some great habitat. Indigo buntings nest here, and at night the air is filled with the calls of whip-poor-wills. This particular evening, though, the light hitting this tree caught my eye. The golden glowing is the sun lighting up the flowers.

And what is it? Basswood! I've seen the tree plenty of times before, but I've never seen it in bloom, so this was a pleasant surprise. I've heard stories of how the bees love it, how it fills the air with its sweet scent, and that it makes great honey. I'm not a connoisseur of honey, and only use it for baking, so I'm the wrong one to make declarations on the virtues of basswood honey.

Here's another bladder campion look-alike for those not in the know: bouncing bet. This is a fun plant , even though not a native one. Bouncing bet is also called soapwort, and the name is well-earned, for this plant, when its leaves are crushed and mixed with water, forms a very gentle soap, which was terrifically valued in the middle ages by those in the fabric business.

And "bouncing bet" as a name? Well, Bet was a popular nickname for Beth, Betsy, Elizabeth, and one that might've been common. Picture a washing woman named Bet, bending over the wash tub, scrubbing away at a load of laundry, and her skirts and underskirts bouncing away as she scrubbed, scrubbed, scrubbed. It's said that this flower looks like her bouncing skirts.

A Different Morning Chorus

2011-06-30T11:06:00.000-04:00

Yesterday morning Toby and I passed this pair of cranes down the road from our house. When Toby started to bark, they took objection. The one crane started to bob its head, open its wings with a powerful whump, and lift both feet off the ground - jumping in place, suspended by its wings. It was telling us that it was big and powerful and capable of defending itself should we decide to come any closer.

Of course, I didn't have my camera.

This morning I took the camera and the cranes were back. But Toby decided to control his barking, so they did not feel threatened. No dancing today.

Still, there is nothing quite like the prehistoric calls of cranes.

I've often held turkeys up as the example that dinosaurs still roam this planet. If you don't believe it, just watch a turkey as it walks along a field. Better yet, watch a whole flock of 'em. Then recall the scene from Jurassic Park where a herd of dinosaurs goes galloping past the camera. You will easily see the similarities.

But the calls made by these cranes...there's just something about them that echoes through time. Close your eyes and listen to this video. Then tell me if you can picture pterodactyls.

Morning Walk

2011-06-29T15:45:00.001-04:00

We have had just a string of glorious days - temps in the '70s, nice breeze, low humidity. It's been wonderful.

So, of course, Toby and I took a long walk "around the block" Sunday morning. Lots of things are in bloom, some of which are old friends, and some of which are new ones.

First up we have what I suspect is purple giant hyssop (another case of uncertain ID because I didn't have my field guide in hand on the walk, and photographs don't always do the trick). I've only seen purple giant hyssop once, so I can't rely on memory. I will take my book home today, however, and have it on hand for my next foray. Update: my botany buddy back in NY (who is originally from MI) identified this as hoary vervain (Verbena stricta), which amazingly is is a native plant!

The first flush of yellow goatsbeard has come and gone,

but the next generation is coming in strong.

'Tis the season for mullein, and here we have moth mullein, a mullein about which I have heard (it is considered up and coming on the list of bad invasives), but have never seen until moving here to Michigan. It's been in Michigan since about 1840, so it's hardly a new plant, but these last few years it has been on the list of unwanted alien invaders.

Another non-native, ox-eye daisy has naturalized across much of the country. We like it, so we don't think of it as an invasive, but, well, there it is. Sometimes the truth hurts.

Spiderworts were in full swing in this field. And they are a native!!! Happy day. I am simply tickled pink by these flowers, for I had them planted in my gardens in Newcomb, and it is a joy to discover they are a native wildflower. I will be trying to gather seeds from the plants in my neighborhood later this season, collecting them for planting in my field after I have it burned. Local genotypes, don'tcha know.

Okay, back to non-natives, we have the first Queen Anne's lace in bloom.

I smelled them before I saw them: wild roses. So much nicer than the invasive multiflora rose, and they add such a lovely color to the landscape.

Catalpa trees are in bloom, although they peaked a week or two ago. The somewhat orchid-like flowers are really quite lovely, and they stand out next to the giant heart-shaped leaves. Catalpas are not native to Michigan, but they are native to North America. A more southerly species, they were planted here by early settlers for use as fence posts (after they grew up and were chopped down).

And it is milkweed season. The flowers are only juuust starting to bloom, and soon the air will be filled with their cloyingly sweet scent.

Butterflyweed, a member of the milkweed family, is also just starting to flower. Monarch butterflies will utilize both of these plants, so I've begun flipping over leaves in search of eggs and larvae. So far I've found one caterpillar (another post for another day).

There's one plant that is growing and blooming everywhere, and it is a thistle. Back in the Adirondacks I was familiar with Canada and bull thistles, both non-native species. This thistle didn't match either description. It turns out it's nodding or musk thistle (Carduus nutans). It is, of course, a non-native species. Here is a series of photos of its flower in different stages of blooming.

Flowers weren't the only things we saw on our walk. This striking butterfly posed for quite a while, a welcome change! An eastern comma (one of the punctuation butterflies), it is a member of the brush-footed clan. And for those who wonder what good nettles are, here is an animal who needs them: nettles are one of the host plants for its larvae.

Now, this butterfly I did not see on my walk. This one was hiding in the shrubbery yesterday as I walked along one of the trails at work with a string of 4th graders behind me. I believe it is a little wood satyr (Megisto cymela), a fairly common and abundant species that likes open woodlands, which is exactly where I found it.

Summer is now in full swing. I've discovered sassafras growing in tree form (I've only ever seen it as a shrubby thing), smooth sumac growing as full fledged trees (with dbh of 10 or more inches), indigo buntings nesting down the road from me, meadow larks singing in the nearby fields, and whip-poor-wills calling in the fields at night.

This morning I watched a pair of sandhill cranes in a neighbor's hard - one of which was dancing and jumping in front of its companion - either a defensive posture meant to intimidate me and the dog, or a courtship display intended to impress its friend.

And two nights ago, just as I was about to step in to the shower, I saw a brownish blob in the tub. I wasn't wearing my glasses, so my first thought was that one of the cats had left me a reminder that the litterbox needed changing. However, as I bent over to get it into focus, it resolved into a grey tree frog! How in the world a tree frog found its way into my house and tub, I have no idea, but a few moments later it was back outside where it belonged.

Add to all this the hundreds of fireflies that sparkle across the landscape each night, and it is easy to say that this move is turning into a very pleasant path of discovery.

Roach Patrol

2011-06-22T17:09:00.000-04:00

One day last week, Gary and I headed over to the Falling Waters Trail to some naturalist stuff. Along the walk, this little brown insect went zipping across the pavement (I believe I mentioned it in the post about our walk). I stopped it with my foot (blocking its path, not squashing it) so I could snap its image. Voila:

I then sent the photo to the trusty folks at BugGuide and lo! and behold! it turned out to be a cockroach. And not just any old cockroach. It is a female wood cockroach (Paroblatta sp.). According to the fellow who identified it for me, female wood cockroaches are very difficult to identify to species, but that's okay - I'm just thrilled to know that it is a female wood cockroach!

Armed now with this information, I set off to do some research.

It turns out this is not only not a pest 'roach, it is a native roach! A denizen of moist woodlands (under logs, under rotting bark, etc.), this roach would not survive in most homes because they are just not moist enough for its tastes. And, unlike many of its roach relatives, the wood cockroach is an active critter both night and day. No hiding in the shadows or lurking behind toasters, nosirree; these guys will zip about in the open as bold as brass.

If a wood cockroach or six should accidentally end up in your house (someone must've brought them in), they won't really stay long enough to become pests - the habitat just isn't right for them. And even if they did stay, they are no threat to the structural integrity of your home. In fact, the only problem would probably be psychological: you would no doubt freak out simply because you have a cockroach in your house.

Storm's Rollin' In

2011-06-22T15:56:00.000-04:00

This was what was happening at my house when I got home last night.

More Books!

2011-06-18T11:56:00.000-04:00

>sigh<

So many books, so little time.

As previously mentioned, I was up at a conference (the No Child Left Inside Summit) up in Midland, MI on Thursday. On my way home, I stopped at the Chippewa Nature Center, briefly, to see what it looked like. I stopped in the gift shop...just to peek at the books...not really intending to purchase anything...not really.

Twenty minutes later I left with four new books and some t-shirts for my friends (they were on sale, after all - a real bargain).

First up, we have a nice little pocket guide of Butterflies of Michigan. This handy little book has just enough information, and photos of adults as well as larvae. It is a good one to add to any field kit.

Next, a Field Guide to Grasshoppers, Katydids and Crickets! The world has been waiting for this book! Or, at least I have. General insect field guides are great, but they are limited. If every insect was to be placed in them, one would need to hire a whole village of Sherpas so carry them around. Not really convenient for a field guide. So, I have usually had to content myself with "it's a grasshopper" and leave it at that. Now, however, I can start to identify one grasshopper from the next, and ditto with crickets! I've only encountered katydids in the tropics, but hey, I am now ready should I see one here in Michigan!

And finally, a two-volume set for identifying grasses. Grass ID guides are few and far between, especially one(s) written for the layperson. These two are still not written for the layperson, but they seem to be pretty comprehensive. With a little studying, I should now have no excuse not to be able to identify grasses.

Look out world - she's armed and dangerous now.

And...Speaking of Invasives...

2011-06-18T11:46:00.000-04:00

Driving in my car...put on the radio...

As I was cruising home two nights ago (6.5 hours on the road - I was at a conference up in Midland), I saw these large, blooming plants along the side of the road...MY road.

I did a double take.

No.

Could it be?

I asked Gary yesterday: is giant hogweed in Michigan? He said yes, but not too prevalently, yet. Well, I said, I think I saw some yesterday along my road.

So this morning I stopped and took photos. As you can see from the first image, it is large; the only thing I could think to use for scale was the road sign (I didn't want to go near it). Y'see, giant hogweed, another invasive species, is also highly dangerous. Any contact with this plant can cause severe "contact dermatitis" that is exacerbated by exposure to light.

Huh?

Have you ever had a rash from poison ivy? Well, this is many many times worse. Here, I'll show you (I swiped these off the internet):

This plant has been used to poison (kill) people. It is a baaaad plant. If you see giant hogweed, do NOT approach it (unless you are heavily garbed in clothes you are willing to throw out).

It can, however, be controlled, especially when the infestation isn't too large. Here is a notice on eradication put out by the NYS DEC.

Still, I wasn't 100% sure that this was giant hogweed. After all, I do have a tendency to rush headfirst to conclusions only to bash into a wall of misidentification. So, I continued to look, for I know there are some look-alikes for this horrid plant.

Sure enough, I was right - I was wrong! The leaves were the key for correct identification of this plant. It turns out that what I found is cow parsnip (which I erroneously thought had yellow flowers). Cow parsnip (a native plant) can also grow to monumental heights (up to ten feet), and also has enormous leaves, but the leaves are more like a maple leaf than, oh, say a fern leaf. They are lobed, but not deeply lobed. Take a look at the bottom leaf in the second photo. Now compare it to the giant hogweed leaf below.

These two plants are related, and although cow parsnip is not as dangerous as giant hogweed, it, too, contains a phototoxin that can cause some pretty bad contact dermatitis (burns) for those who choose to tangle with it. Like poison ivy, though, it seems that not everyone is sensitive to the chemical, so it is possible that one can contact the plant without any adverse reactions. But why take the chance?

I'm just glad to know that it isn't the highly invasive giant hogweed growing along the sides of my road. Whew! Dodged a bullet there.

Lime Lake

2011-06-18T10:45:00.000-04:00

Shortly after I rolled in to work yesterday, Gary asked if I'd like to accompany him on a jaunt over to Lime Lake, a local park that is part of the Falling Waters Trail. He'd taken the Tuesday Morning Group out there and had see so many terrific things, but had left his camera at work, so he wanted to go back and get photos of some of the nests they found. How could I refuse? So, of course, I said "Sure!"

Here we are at Lime Lake, which is actually two smallish lakes, sort of man-made. On the far side here there is a fen, so there was definitely water in the area prior to man's involvement. And why did man get involved?

Here you can see some of the remnants below the water's surface of the once rather prolific marl mining operation that was here.

Only a few feet from the shoreline the lake's bottom drops dramatically to a depth of 30 feet or so. This was the mine pit.

Marl, which is a limestone, was dug up here for use on the agricultural fields all around. The soils in this part of Michigan are no the best in the world, as I've noted before (especially on my gardening blog). Some parts are acidic, others are alkaline. The marl, which is a crumbly substance, was used to help balance the pH and make the soils a bit more fertile. The sign below tells all about it.

But, our primary reason for this trip was the nest below. It's the nest of a warbling vireo, a small grey bird with an oriole-like song. Sort of. Gary described the song as "squeeze me, squeeze me, squeeze me 'til I squirt." We did see the bird, and we definitely heard one or two, but no one was at the nest when we stopped by. If it weren't for Gary's eagle eyes when it comes to all things bird, I don't think anyone would have seen this nest - it is very well hidden. (It is in the center of the photo.)

I was happy to see this familiar-looking plant: sumac. To the untrained eye, this looks like it could be staghorn sumac, the species I am familiar with from back home. However, it has no fuzzy coverings on its stems, and the leaves are very smooth. This is smooth sumac, another native, and one that is quite prolific in these parts. I may, in fact, already have some on my property. It is certainly a species to cultivate for a) it is native and b) it produces fruits that are important to our native birds. I need to acquire some more.

Now, this fellow was a surprise. It was zipping along the paved path in quite a hurry. It's rather cylindrical shape and striking coloring made me want to photograph it, but I had to slow it down first. Voila! My foot made a great barrier. I snapped a couple shots and off it dashed again. Gary thought it looked rather cockroachish. Hm. The only cockroaches I've ever seen were the Madagascan hissing cockroaches we had at the zoo where I worked. I've written about cockroaches, I have a great book about cockroaches, but I've never lived where cockroaches lived. I sent this image off to BugGuide, and within minutes I had an answer: it is definitely a cockroach, but it's been forwarded to the appropriate experts for species ID. Will keep you posted. On the one hand, it's rather exciting to add a new critter to my life list of things I've seen, but on the other hand, shudder, cockroaches! I'm not sure how I feel living where these guys exist.

There are many (and I do mean MANY) bluebird nest boxes along the trail, quite a number of which are there because of Gary's involvement with the creation of this trail. We didn't see any bluebirds, but the boxes were all in use. This one was stuffed full of plant material - house sparrows. Invasive species - Gary removed the nest.

Most of the residents, however, were tree swallows, and there were tree swallows by the dozen flying around. In fact, there were so many that it seems they'll nest in any available box, including boxes in need of repair,

and kestrel boxes, which are built for rather larger birds.

The general rule of thumb when putting up bluebird boxes is to pair them. This is because tree swallows are rather territorial and will evict bluebirds in order to have the nest box. If the box is paired with another, the theory is that they swallows will keep other swallows from nesting next door, allowing the bluebirds to move in in peace. Well, here are two bluebird boxes and a kestrel box, all in a row, and each one had a tree swallow family in residence. Many of the swallows had fledglings that had either a) just been kicked out of the house and the parents were now rebuilding for a second brood, or b) were in the process of coaxing the kids out for their first flights.

This turtle nest didn't make it. Raccoons, skunks, foxes...they are all known to dig up turtle nests to have a fresh egg meal. These eggs seemed a bit on the smallish side, so the nest probably wasn't the usual snapping turtle nest. It could be a painted turtle's nest. When Gary and the group were out here on Tuesday, they saw a large softshelled turtle (think pancake with legs, tail and head) laying eggs. This is why one should always bring a camera along.

There were plenty of insects flying around, including this little European skipper - yes, a non-native butterfly. It was "accidentally" turned loose 101 years ago in Canada, and is now taking over North America. Skippers in general have a rapid and rather erratic flight, and they usually fly close to the ground. This makes sneaking up on them a bit of a challenge.

And speaking of sneaking up on insects, I had some fun trying to sneak up on this calico pennant dragonfly. It seems that every time I about had it lined up for a shot, it took off (I swear it was thumbing its nose at me). Eventually, however, it perched for a few seconds allowing me to get a few nice images. This is the male of the species. The female would look similar in pattern, but instead of red and black, she would be yellow and black. This seems to be a rather common trend in dragonflies.

We found a small patch of Deptford pinks in bloom. It's a pretty little plant, native to Europe, and although it is found rather extensively here in the US, it doesn't seem to be a problematic plant. Although, Gary did point out that even though it isn't really "invasive," he wonders what native plant would be blooming here instead if this plant hadn't come over. It's an interesting question.

While not all non-native species are problematic, too many wreak havoc within our native ecosystems. All along the trail ash trees were marked for cutting. Some were dead, some still had leaves, but all were impacted by the emerald ash borer. Back in New York, this highly destructive insect is only starting to get a hold on the landscape, but here in Michigan it's work is already done. There are no (or nearly no) mature ash trees left. The adult beetle bores into the trees, lays eggs and leaves. The larvae eat the tree, and when they emerge, they leave these rather large holes behind (see below). The end result: the tree dies. It seems that, like the American beech, young trees (saplings) are unaffected, but as long as this insect remains here, we will not have any more mature ashes in this country.

Some places are taking action by cutting down all their ashes before the beetle arrives: if there is no food, the insects will die off (that's the theory). They did the same thing with chestnuts back in the day. It's a nice idea, but I don't know how effective it is in the long run.

I suppose some folks may think that we naturalists harp a bit too much on alien invaders/non-native species. The truth of the matter, however, is that with this highly mobile global world today, insects, plants, fungi, etc. have easy access to new frontiers. When they arrive on foreign shores, if they are able to find food or a host, then they go to town unchecked, for their natural predators/control agents stayed back home. There's nothing to slow 'em down. People who are not in touch with the outdoors may think this is a non-issue - there are plenty of other plants (etc.) around, so what difference does it make if one or two species disappear. The things is, it's not just one or two species.

Remember the food web? We all learned about it when we were kids. Everything is attached to everything else in nature. If you wipe out all of a particular native plant, for example, what happens to the insects that depended on that plant for a food source? If those insects now die out, what happens to the birds who depended on those insects to get them through the first days of spring, for even seed-eating birds rely on insects for their young? Like ripples on a pond, loss of native species have far-reaching impacts that we many not realize until it is too late.

This is why we naturalists go on and on about eradicating non-native vegetation and replanting areas with the native plants. We don't want to lose all those things that make North America, Michigan, New York, Alabama, Oregon special.

End of rant.

Meet the Neighbors

2011-06-15T10:23:00.000-04:00

There's nothing quite like waking up to the prehistoric calls of sandhill cranes. These birds are considered about the oldest species (of birds) on Earth, displacing the loons, which have traditionally held this coveted position.

Yesterday morning there was quite a ruckus coming from the neighboring field. Baby cranes are now on the move, so I was hoping to see some juveniles (saw my first ones the day before), but when Toby and I sallied forth across the field, it turned out that it was a group of adults making all the fuss.

They tolerated our presence for a few minutes, and finally decided that we were too much of a threat. Off they took.

There's a pond over yonder, not too far from my house as the crane flies, and we think this is where these birds are hanging out. I often hear them calling from that general direction.