March 23

The mid-day sky is sunny, temperatures in the mid 50’s with a gentle westerly breeze as I begin my hike on the disc golf course east of downtown Alma. Heading east, I first hear the song of a Northern Cardinal and then spot a leafless Wild Dog Rose shrub displaying large, ovoid fruit. While some of these “hips” have spoiled over the winter, others are soft, sweet and edible. Reaching the edge of the Pine River, I pause to hear a single male Redwing Blackbird mixed with sounds of Canada Geese.  Along the shore, I’m surprised to see recent Beaver activity, including a newly gnawed stump of a Hawthorn tree and another of a large Maple tree. These stumps are often left standing when a beaver is in the process of felling a tree for food, specifically the soft, nutritious layer of wood beneath the bark, or for gathering building materials for their dams and lodges. From the riverbank, I look through leafless branches to see and hear a mating pair of Canada Geese squaring off with others, wings spread and necks low, splashing and lunging in a dispute over nesting territory. While these displays usually work, ganders have been known to use their strong beaks and powerful wings to strike at intruders, including humans. Up ahead, I spot a few golf-ball size woody growths on branches of a Red Oak tree. Called Gouty Oak Galls, these growths house developing larvae. While often harmless, persistent infestations can kill branches and stunt or misshape the tree. A tiny, non-stinging wasp lays eggs in the twigs forming the gall, which serves as a food source and shelter for the larvae.  Continuing my hike on a path covered with dried oak leaves, I notice the shadows cast by the trees behind me and remember that since today is the Vernal Equinox and based on the sun’s elevation, these shadows are half as long as they were back at the Winter Solstice and will continue to shorten until the Summer Solstice in June. Heading back toward the car, my ears perk up to the sound of hundreds of tiny male Midland Chorus Frogs (stock photo). Pausing at a vernal pond where they congregate, the noise is so loud it’s hard to hear the squeaky call each one makes, described as the sound of running a thumbnail along the teeth of a stiff plastic comb. Near the car, I pause to bid farewell to a Black-capped Chickadee singing "good bye" to  me from a spruce tree. Today, the equinox did not arrive with fanfare. It revealed itself in birdsongs, in flowing water and the tension between seasons. On today's hike it was clear: the balance has tipped. Spring is no longer coming. It is here!

Star of the earth

You light the way

Sun of the heavens 

You warm the day

Source of life

None can deny

Sun of the heavens

Orb of the sky

Rays you send

Beams you bring

Sun of the heavens

Welcome to spring

 

D. DeGraaf

March 16

The early morning sky is overcast with temperatures in the low 40’s as I begin my hike in a section of the Maple River State Game Area, west of US 127. The entire area covers about 9,000–10,000 acres of public land stretching across Gratiot and Clinton counties. It forms the largest contiguous wetland complex in mid-Michigan, composed of floodplains, marshes, woodlands, grasslands, and agricultural fields along the Maple River corridor. Because of these varied habitats, the area serves as both a breeding ground and migratory stopover for thousands of birds each year. After noticing a Robin perched on a nearby tree branch, my ears perk up to the call of distant geese as well as the long, repetitious song of a Song Sparrow. These short-to-medium distance migrants (stock photo) have returned to nest and provide us with their lovely serenade. Up ahead, I pause to see and hear another migrant, a male Redwing blackbird that arrived to establish a breeding territory (about 0.5 acres). Redwing males are polygamous, actively defending their territories to host 2–5 females who will arrive in a week or two. On the shore, I come upon an 18-inch carcass of a Common Carp. This non-native fish was introduced in the USA in the 1800s as a food and game fish. By 1885, the U.S. Fish Commission was actively stocking lakes and rivers throughout the country. Since they can tolerate cold winters and low-oxygen water, their population thrives in this habitat. Soon, these wetlands will be churning with splashing carp as their annual spawning ritual takes place. Carp are a popular food source in Europe and Asia. Not so in the US, since they require specific preparation to manage numerous small bones and a potentially "muddy" taste. Overhead, I see and hear a pair of noisy Sandhill Cranes that are likely returning from their winter grounds in Florida and the Gulf Coast to nest in these wetlands or nearby agricultural areas. Out on the water, I watch a Muskrat swim north on the placid surface. Before turning around, my attention is drawn to the low hum of distant highway traffic drifting across the wetlands, a reminder that even here, in the middle of this marshy refuge, civilization lies just beyond the trees. Nearing the car, I spot a mating pair of Canada geese likely establishing their nesting area. These waterfowl are intensely territorial and protective during nesting season with the male (gander) actively defending the nest and female from threats. He will exhibit aggressive behaviors like standing tall, hissing, honking, and charging, and will attack humans or predators that approach too closely. 

From stillness of winter

To sounds of spring

Mother nature wakes

To birds that sing

Redwings shrill

Robins serenade

From Sandhill Cranes

Calls are made

From open water

Mallards quack

Noisy geese

Are welcomed back

 

D. DeGraaf

March 9

The early afternoon skies are mostly cloudy with temperatures in the low 40’s as I find myself in Alma’s Conservation Park beginning my hike on a re-designed “Trail of Trees”. Instead of the trailhead being north of the restroom building, the new trailhead starts and ends at the Eyer Learning Circle. Turning right, I follow a meandering earthen trail northward past trunks of Wild Cherry, White Cedar and Muscle-wood trees. Continuing north, I spot the ice-covered Pine River Mill Pond through the leafless understory. Curving left, I converge with an asphalt trail and head west where decaying leaves of Red Oak, Sugar Maple and Big-tooth Aspen are seen as well as a female cone of White Pine. Up ahead, as the sun appears, long shadows from tree trunks cut across the path. Continuing west, I pause near the base of a Bur Oak tree, where I’m not surprised to see a few “bur-like” acorn caps which gives the tree its name. Turning south along the edge of a dirt road, I look up to notice dried up seed pods of a Black Locust tree still hanging to branches and a Fox Squirrel perched on a horizontal branch. Nearby, I come upon another Fox Squirrel feeding on a walnut before scampering away. This time of year, squirrels are eating food from buried food caches they stored in the fall. Their memory helps them recover many caches, but they also rely heavily on their sense of smell. Turning onto a paved road, my ears perk up to caws of crows before pausing to spot two, well-camouflaged Whitetail deer staring at me through the dense underbrush. Right now, these deer are likely at their lowest body weight of the year. Since winter food was limited, they will spend a lot of time browsing heavily on twigs and bugs, eating remaining acorns buried in the leaf litter and foraging for early green plants emerging where snow has melted. Turning east, on the paved road, I spot a Pine tree trunk with neatly placed holes made by a Pileated Woodpecker. While most of the leafless canopy remains wide open, evergreen needles of White Pine and Norway Spruce provide some shade. After passing the Eyer Bird Hut, I turn left and follow a mulch-covered path north to my final stop which is the Eyer Learning Circle. After, looking at the kiosk displays, I sit on one of the benches facing east where I notice a variety of tree trunks. Then, I move around and sit on a bench facing west where I notice more tree trunks. Before leaving, I relax and reflect on signs of the waning winter and the waiting spring season ahead.

March is ready

Curtain opens wide

Green begins to show

Snow begins to hide

Props are in place

Stage is clear

Room for Redwings

Room for deer

Geese arrive

Right on cue

Robins appear

If only a few

 

D. DeGraaf

March 2

Under sunny skies and temperatures in the low 30’s, I begin my hike in the Little Salt Creek park, located in the village of Shepherd. As I watch the water flow north, I’m reminded that “salt” in the river’s name has nothing to do with the chemistry of the surface water. Instead, it's associated with underground brine deposits nearby that once were mined for valuable minerals. Following the riverbank, I pause as the water flows slowly downstream. Standing here, I feel a quiet certainty that winter is retreating and spring is taking hold. Up ahead, I come upon what could be the start of a bird nest. Having heard a Carolina Wren last week near Mt. Pleasant and knowing that they are early, sloppy nesters, I’m thinking this could be one of theirs. Moving away from the channel, I make my way onto a wooded flood plain where I spot a Melanistic Gray Squirrel scampering down a tree trunk. Nearby, I first hear the not-so-common call of a Blue Jay and then spot a cluster of red fruit of High-bush Cranberry. Down the path, I walk past some deer tracks on a patch of snow while listening to the call of a Northern Cardinal. Continuing to explore, I look down at a patch of Turkey Tail fungi growing on a decaying log and then look up at a wide-open forest canopy. Nearby, I hear a Robin singing from on high while at my feet, the litter consists of Cottonwood and Maple leaves. Before turning around, I come again to the creek channel where I disturb a flock of Geese. Heading back, I spook a few deer and watched them race across a distant ridge. Nearing the car, I encounter a few muddy mounds created by Eastern Moles (stock photo). These small mammals remain active all winter and do not hibernate. They usually tunnel below the frost line hunting for worms and larvae. As the ground thaws they push soil up from deeper tunnels creating these volcano-shaped mounds. Taking one last look as water flows toward me, I think about the identify crisis of this watercourse. While current maps label it “Salt Creek.”, maps in the 1800’s called it “Salt River”, which was also the name of the village that is now Shepherd. Likewise, the graveyard south of the village is still called Salt River Cemetery and this park is called “Little Salt River Park. However, there is another watercourse that runs through the middle of Isabella and Midland Counties that currents maps label “Salt River” (stock photo). To confuse matters even more, upstream this same watercourse meanders through a golf course that once named it “Winding Brook” and now names it “Maple Creek”.

March commences

Lingering chill

Creatures hiding

Sounds are nil

Out of the silence

A song is heard

Morning melody

Nature stirred

High in the pines

Message to bring

Cardinal of winter

Beckoning spring

 

D. DeGraaf

February 23

The early morning temperatures are in the upper 20’s under partly sunny skies as I begin my hike in Bulger Preserve, CWC’s newest acquisition.  Established in 2025, this 1+ acre property is located along the Chippewa River, 5 miles SW of Mt. Pleasant. Soon, I pause to listen to the clear call of a Carolina Wren (stock photo). These birds are increasingly common year-round residents of the state, due to warmer winters. They are early nesters, sometimes beginning in April, and are known to nest in man-made spots like mailboxes, hanging plants, and garages. Exploring the flood plain, I come upon the skull bone of a Virginia Opossum. These common critters have a very short lifespan, typically living only 1.5 to 2 years in the wild due to high predation, vehicular accidents, and environmental stress such as extreme cold, which can cause frostbite on their tails and ears. Continuing through the woodland, my ears first perk up to the call of a Tufted Titmouse (stock photo) and then a Common Crow. The ground around me displays an oak, maple leaf litter as well as deer scat. Overhead, I spot branches of needles of Canadian Hemlock as well as branches of a Muscle Wood tree still hanging on to its dead leaves. Called Marcescence, dead leaves of this tree do not fall off in autumn but remain attached until spring growth pushes them off. The dried leaves may protect delicate overwintering buds from: drying winter winds, sudden temperature swings and browsing deer since those crispy leaves might make twigs slightly less appealing. When new leaves begin to push out in April and May, they physically shove off the old papery leaves. One windy warm day and suddenly the tree is clean again. Reaching the snow-covered edge of the Chippewa River, I look upstream as the water flows past. Then, I look downstream as the water continues to wear away the icy shoreline. The river here is about halfway on its journey from its source in Barryton to the Chippewa Nature Center near Midland where it merges with the Pine River. Turning back toward the car, I come upon an interesting bark trio of a Hop Hornbeam tree next to a White Cedar tree with a Wild Grape vine between them. Pausing near the car, I think about nature’s familiar late-winter duality of stillness and stirring. The ice will withdraw soon. The snow patches will fade into memory. Buds will swell among the trees. This morning beneath a partly sunny sky, the preserve shows both endings and beginnings as a scenic watercourse moves steadily along its edge.

No gathering geese

Or mallards in flight

No croaking frogs

To welcome the night

Nestled in mud

Turtles aren’t seen

Beige and broken

Cattails aren’t green

River wetlands

Covered and sealed

End of February

Nature revealed

 

D. DeGraaf

February 16

The mid-morning sky is partly sunny with temperatures in the low 30’s as I begin my hike on a paved path in Mt. Pleasant’s Millpond Park. Up ahead, I can barely make out a Red squirrel perched high on a limb. Unlike Fox and Gray squirrels that bury their food in caches under the snow, Red squirrels harvest green cones, carry them to a favorite perch and methodically strip them for seeds. Over time, the discarded cones accumulate into noticeable mounds called middens (stock photo). Following the trail, I notice some of the ice-covered surface of the Chippewa River has opened up revealing flowing water. Looking more closely, I spot a few members of a large flock of Robins drinking water and flying around. Most likely these birds have taken the risk of wintering-over in the park rather than migrate. They can survive by consuming winter foods like Winterberry, Hawthorn and Juniper. In cold snaps, they sometimes gorge on fermented crabapples — which can make them disoriented (drunk). Other cold weather survival techniques of Robins include fluffing their feathers to trap heat and roosting in the shelter of a Cedar swamp. Glancing out on an ice-covered section of the river, I spot tracks of thirsty animals converging on a watering hole. Continuing along the path, I pause to watch the river water flow rapidly north carving a narrow channel through the ice. After looping back across the river, I spot a tree trunk covered with several rope-like vines of Poison Ivy as well as a newly gnawed 6-inch Beaver stump. Nearby, I pause to hear the faint song of a Northern Cardinal. Just ahead, I’m surprised to still see a few reddish-orange berries on a Bittersweet tree while near the ground, I spot the winter remains of once-lovely blossoms of Queen-Anne’s Lace. Veering off the paved trail, I follow a snow-covered path through a dense stand of Box Elder trees.  Turning back toward the car, I look up to take in the awesome sight of the sun breaking through the clouds. Nearing the car, I pause to hear a rare muted whirring call of a Blue Jay. Most everyone is familiar with the “jay-jay-jay” or “jeer” call of this bird. However, Blue Jays have a large repertoire of calls including those that mimic hawks. When I turn toward the parking lot, I look back at my footprints in the snow realizing they will fade in a few days. Trees will remain. The river will thaw. Other tracks will appear. Driving toward home, I’m grateful for another winter morning communing with nature at Mill Pond Park.

Waters of life

Nourishes earth

Flows in her veins

River of worth

Wonder of nature

Beauty to inspire

Clean and clear

River to admire

More than a stream

More than a creek

Cherish the Chippewa

River unique

 

D. DeGraaf

February 2

Repost Jan 30, 2018