December 29

Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. It was nice to be back in familiar surroundings. The early morning weather was partly sunny with a temperature of 23 degrees and a slight northerly wind blowing a few snow flurries. Pausing once again to gaze over the western landscape, I was filled with memories of another year gone by. I glanced to the north to notice the wind turbine and solar panel that were installed in January and used in the spring to teach the school children about clean energy. Descending the hill, I passed Mallard Marsh and walked through Bobolink Meadow where I recalled with joy the sights and sounds of Bobolinks as they returned to nest in June after a year absence. Meanwhile, a half dozen deer scampering north into the neighbor’s field and a dozen Mourning Doves flew silently overhead. I entered North Woods where the morning sun shone through the leafless trees. However, I was surprised to see a small Beech tree still had some dead leaves clinging to it. Exiting the woods, I glanced at the snow-covered vegetation and was reminded of the discovery in January of the button buck found lying dead just off the trail and the gradual decomposition of the carcass that was seen throughout the year. Circling Succession Field, I was reminded what a great job the Alma College students did in May cutting down lots of invasive Autumn Olive shrubs. I entered South Woods and noticed some Fox Squirrel tracks. I followed the trail next to Swanson Swamp and exited the woods. Next, I turned south, passed Artist Overlook and noticed a small tree with some of the bark scraped away. It looked like a buck rub. Some say these rubs are made primarily by bucks cleaning the dried velvet from their antlers. Others say they are made by bucks while mock fighting with a small tree, or that rubbing serves to strengthen the neck muscles in preparation for later fights with other bucks. Still others say they are visual and olfactory signposts that transmit territorial and breeding information to other bucks and does in the area. Next, I walked along the edge of ice-covered Sora Swale and followed the trail east to Frog Fen. There, I turned south again and headed toward Brady Cemetery where I remembered seeing the blackened ground after a grass fire in March. Passing the cemetery, I entered Native Grassland and recalled with pleasure of seeing the robust growth of prairie grasses and wildflowers during the summer and fall after a controlled burn in April. I walked north past Grebe Pond, passed the barn and noticed one of several new signs installed in August. Also, I noticed how nice the Classroom and Storage Building looked since the Alma College students painted it in May. Finally, we got in the car and made our final homeward trip for 2012.

Welcome winter to this special place
Much to observe, much to embrace
Snow has painted the ground white
Short is the day. Long is the night
Ice on the pond is solid at last
Sealing the water like the past
Ground is frozen. Snow will be deep
Creatures begin a long winter sleep
Some mammals found a retreat
In cozy shelters to conserve heat
Everyday throughout this year
Nature’s handiwork I did revere

D. DeGraaf

December 22

Saturday would have been a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. However, I was in California and Remi was at Happy Trails pet motel in Alma. Today, my daughter, Allison, my wife Caroline and I were planning to hike a trail in Zuma Canyon in the Santa Monica Recreation Area north of Los Angeles. The late morning weather was sunny with a temperature of 55 degrees and no wind. Before we started, I noticed a flock of noisy, green parakeets perched in a tree nearby. We followed the Loop trail where I noticed several Sycamore trees with their mottled trunks were shedding their leaves. Further down the trail I paused at an unknown tree, picked a leaf and smelled a very strong aroma that irritated my sinuses. Looking up, I gazed at the hilly terrain. Following the path, I came to a dry creek bed with lots of large rocks and was surprised to see a large piece of Pumice. We came to a wooded area where I saw a very large tree with Holly-like leaves. As the trail inclined, I spotted a few ferns and daisy-like wildflowers. We continued to climb up the trail where I noticed a Chamise shrub with its pleasant smelling leaves. Also, I noticed some Sage plants and smelled their leaves. Looking down at the dirt trail, I noticed several horse hoof tracks. Also, I spotted some California Mule deer tracks. These animals usually browse close to lakes or streams providing their water source. In summer, they mainly browse on leaves of small trees, shrubs and herbaceous plants, but also consume many types of berry. In winter, they may expand their forage to conifers, aspen, willow, dogwood, juniper, and sage. Near the end of the trail, I looked up to see the hanging nest of a Hooded Oriole. We finally returned to the car and took off for Redondo Beach where Allison lives.

I pray you not to love classifications: 

The thing is like a river, from source to sea-mouth
One flowing life. We that have the honor and hardship of being human
Are one flesh with the beasts, and the beasts with the plants
One streaming sap, and certainly the plants and algae
and the earth they spring from,
Are one flesh with the stars. The classifications
Are mostly a kind of memoria technica; use it but don’t be fooled.
It is all truly one life, red blood and tree-sap,
Animal, mineral, sidereal, one stream, one organism, one God.

Robinson Jeffers

December 15

Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. The early morning weather was cloudy, hazy with temperature of 31 degrees and no wind. Today, I planned to repeat the Reflection hill circuit that I did back in late June. I planned to slowly circle the hilltop to take in sights and sounds of mid December. Passing the Classroom Building, I headed west and climbed to the top of the hill where my GPS showed an elevation of 840 feet above sea level. I gazed north and noticed how Mallard Marsh was now frozen and more exposed compared to last summer when a dense growth of Cattails and Reed Canary Grass made it hard to see. I followed the snowy trail counterclockwise and recalled out it appeared last summer. Next to the path I spotted some dried up seed pods of Milkweed and recalled last June when this plant was in bloom giving off a sweet aroma. I proceeded along the trail looking for any evidence of Timothy grass, recalling its abundance last summer. Next, I paused, faced west and noticed dead Orchard grass in front of me with Artist Overlook and South Woods in the background while remembering how this view had changed since last June. Continuing around the hilltop, I recalled how pleased I was last summer to see a few Bobolinks flying around up here. Next, I paused again and faced south where I observed the neighbors field and thought about last June when it was covered with a golden wheat crop. Continuing on the path, I noticed how a green Goldenrod gall from last summer had turned brown. Then, I stopped, faced east and looked down on Grebe Pond while recalling this scene from last summer when a family of geese was swimming together. With my binoculars, I counted six muskrat lodges and observed a single muskrat perched on the ice on the far shore. The muskrat is one of several North American animals whose name has Native American origins. Early American colonists originally called the animal a "musquash," which was the name for the animal in the Algonquian language. However, English-speaking Americans then combined the word "musquash" with their own familiar word for a rodent, "rat," to form the modern word "muskrat." In some Algonquin traditions, Muskrat is a female figure who becomes the mother of humankind. Muskrats are considered lucky animals in other tribes, and some folktales include muskrats bestowing wealth or hunting success on humans who treat them respectfully. Looking further east, I saw Native Grassland with its tall, dead prairie grasses. Next, I sat on a bench to scan the pond and listen to the silence of the season. Proceeding onward, I noticed how the dense growth of White Sweet clover had lost its leaves and flowers of summer. Finally, I completed the loop, descended the hill and headed back to the van for our trip home.

Soft as the fall of a beautiful thought, Or a leaf on the stream, White as the robe by purity wrought, Bright as the flow of a dream. Calm as a sleeping infant's breath, Cold as the brow just touched by death, Falleth in many a graceful wreath Gently, the beautiful snow. Caught like a robe on the leafless trees, With diamonds in every fold; Stepping like sprites where the fallen leaves Mingle their brown and gold. Covering over the graves of the flowers, And those other graves where gems of ours We laid away in summer hours, Now resteth the gentle snow.

Mary T. Lathrap

December 8

Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. The early morning weather was cloudy with a temperature of 30 degrees and a slight northerly wind blowing light snow flurries. Standing at the crest of the hill, I looked west over a white landscape as three inches of fresh snow blanketed the ground. Descending the hill, I paused at Mallard Marsh and counted five deer running through Bobolink Meadow. Entering North Woods, I noticed some water remained in one of the vernal ponds. I followed the trail west where I observed a fox squirrel scampering up a tree. Next, I scraped some snow away to expose some leaf litter and realized how important leaf decomposition is to the cycle of nutrients in a forest ecosystem. I exited the woods and noticed how the white snow as a backdrop made it easy to spot normally inconspicuous invertebrates such as one of several beetle larvae. Also, I spotted half-a-dozen tiny Winter Crane Flies-some flying around and some sitting on the snow. I continued to circle Succession Field where I saw two kinds of spiders crawling on the snow. Entering South Woods, I first stopped to observe the raccoon carcass after brushing off some snow. These nocturnal mammals are good climbers, are curious and intelligent. Their hearing and sense of 
touch are excellent. They forage for food in or near 
water or around the edges of crops. These omnivores feed on crayfish, insects, mollusks, rodents, bird eggs, fish, young rabbits, carrion and garbage. As plants become available in summer, they feed on fruits and grains. Like bears, raccoons do not truly hibernate. They sleep in dens during extremely cold weather, but can be 
aroused and their metabolic rate and heart rate remain nearly normal. After following the trail along the edge of Swanson Swamp, I exited the woods and headed toward Artist Overlook where I could see Remi’s footprints in the snow as I followed him down the path. Following south trail, I circled around to the east side of Sora Swale where I was surprised yesterday to see a partially submerged deer carcass. I suspect it was either killed by a hunter or died from Epizootic Hemorrhagic Disease. Caused by a midge bite, this disease drastically raises the body temperature. Often the deer seeks a pond to cool off where it becomes weak and dies. Continuing on to Frog Fen, I turned north, climbed Reflection Hill and scanned Grebe Pond where I recalled seeing lots of Muskrat activity this past week. So, I headed down the hill, turned south at the Classroom and walked down to the edge of the pond where I was pleased to see three muskrats swimming near their lodge and one perched on a log eating cattail. Finally, we passed the Classroom Building and returned to the van for our trip home.

I walked a league and o'er the moor;

I walked and walked as ne’er before,

And on to walk from dale to hill

And on again to claim the thrill.

Behold! that walking does for me:

The senses heightened, mind of glee,

While rolling vistas pass me by

To swell the ear, enthrall the eye.

Mark R Slaughter  

December 1

Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. It was nice to be back in familiar surroundings after a two-week absence. The early morning weather was foggy with a temperature of 32 degrees and a mild southerly breeze. Before starting out, I glanced west at the late-autumn landscape. I descended the hill, passed Mallard Marsh and hike through Bobolink Meadow where I heard a pheasant calling out from the underbrush. At the entrance to North Woods. I left the trail and wandered over to a pile of rocks lying on the forest floor, called erratics. Geologists define erratics as stones or boulders that have been carried from their place of origin by a glacier. Next, I returned to the trail, headed south past Willow Wallow and circled Succession Field where I heard a Chickadee in the distance. Also, I spotted some more erratics along the western boundary. When this area was settled, farmers were forced to clear fields of rock obstacles in order to plow and cultivate. Many erratics were used to build fences and foundations, while others were just piled along fencerows or unused field corners. Next, I turned east and left the trail again to examine some more erractics on the north edge of South Woods. The vast majority were igneous or metamorphic rocks, rather than the usual sedimentary rocks that constitute the bedrock of Michigan’s lower peninsula. I noticed a metamorphic rock called granite gneiss and another one with unusual quartz intrusions sticking out. Most glacial erratics appear worn and rounded like this one or beveled like this one. During the course of their journey, the rocks were jostled against other erratics or scraped against the underlying bedrock, rounding off corners and planing smooth surfaces, eventually producing their characteristic appearance. I entered the woods and immediately checked out the raccoon carcass that had not decomposed much in the last two weeks. I walked along the edge of Swanson Swamp and exited the trail once again to check out the largest erratic on the property weighing several tons. Rocks such as this one were transported great distances by the Pleistocene-age glaciers. The most recent, called the Wisconsin stage, retreated from Michigan between 9,500 and 15,000 years ago. I exited the woods, passed Artist Overlook and continued south along Sora Swale where I observed a large igneous rock called granite lying along the edge of South Woods. Following the south trail to Frog Fen, I turned north to climb Reflection Hill where I gazed down at Grebe Pond shrouded in fog. Descending the hill, I passed the Classroom Building. Finally, we made it to the van and left for home.

Birches are bare silhouettes in the air

the frost is so cold that it burns

a spider web's gold in the sun’s pale glare

asleep until Summer returns.

Jackets of white that have formed in the night

the air is a shock to the lungs

the tinkling mock of the fresh stalactites

as sharp as a rapier’s tongue.

Cuddled up under a star-strewn wonder

the firelight glows flickering flames

and buried below, Summer’s blossoms in slumber

awaiting till Spring calls their names.

The leaves drifting soundlessly float to the ground

quite like boats on a to and fro sea

the multi-hued coat that is woven around

whispers “Winter is Coming” to me.    

Unknown          

November 24

Saturday would have been a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. However, due to the continuing deer-hunting season, we stayed in Alma and hiked through Pine River Park and Conservation Park. The early morning weather was mostly cloudy with a temperature of 30 degrees and a steady west wind. I started out at the boat launch and followed a paved path west along the river where a half- dozen Juncos fluttered through the leafless vegetation in front of me. I paused to look at a bright red male Cardinal perched on a bush. Next, I stopped at an Eastern Red Cedar tree and noticed the tiny blue berries on its branches. I smashed one between my fingers and smelled the pungent odor. Close by, I saw a Northern White Cedar tree with its tiny, woody, mature cones. Turning south, I entered Conservation Park and followed the path through a forest where the leaf litter next to the trail indicated the presence of oak and aspen trees. I exited the woods and spotted a large rock with a plaque on it commemorating the establishment of this 53-acre park. I followed a dirt road south past the Girl Scout cabin and continued on a path that turned east toward Riverside Cemetery. Before reaching the cemetery, I turned northeast and followed a path into dense woods where I spotted a Bittersweet vine with its bright red berries high up in a spruce tree. All parts of this plant are poisonous, but songbirds and fox squirrels eat the fruit. Native Americans once used the roots to induce vomiting, treat venereal disease and tuberculosis. Continuing through the woods, I observed some large White Spruce trees. The tough, pliable roots of this tree were used by Native Americans to lace birch bark canoes and to make woven baskets. Continuing along the path, I heard the familiar song of a Nuthatch and a Chickadee. Also, I noticed several slightly reddish trunks of tall Red Pine trees. The wood of this tree is used for telephone poles, lumber, cabin logs, railway ties, pulpwood and firewood. Further along the trail, I saw the mottle-textured trunks of Scotch pine trees. Many of us think of these trees as small, well-pruned Christmas trees set up in people’s homes this time of year. However, the older ones growing here look scraggly with contorted branches. Native Americans filled their sleeping mattresses with Scotch pine needles to keep away fleas and ticks. Presently the needles are distilled to make essential oil. The oil has a strong, fresh, resinous aroma and powerful antiseptic properties. It is used in steam inhalations for cough and sinus problems. The oil possesses warming properties that help with rheumatism, arthritis, gout and muscular pains. Exiting the woods with the skies clearing, I retraced my steps back to the boat launch where we got in the van and took off for home.

We walk a different path today

Our favorite spot is far away

Tis the season to hunt deer

They’re shooting guns near

It’s unsafe to walk that ground

Too many hunters around

I hope the whitetail runs away

Escapes the bullet of death today

I hope these creatures find a place

Where the pursuer cannot trace

Hunting season will soon end

So we can hike our trail again

D. DeGraaf

November 17

Saturday would have been a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. However, due to the potential danger of hiking at the Nature Area during rifle deer hunting season, we drove up to Mt. Pleasant and hiked around Mill Pond Park, a 90-acre park located between Broadway and High Street, intersected by the Chippewa River. The early morning weather was foggy with a temperature of 25 degrees and no wind. I started out and followed a paved trail along the river where I heard the familiar song of a Chickadee. The main stem of the Chippewa River begins in northeast Mecosta County from an impoundment in the village of Barryton and flows east southeast 92 miles through Mt. Pleasant and ends in Midland County where it joins the Tittabawassee River. Just off the trail, I saw a patch of dead, golden Reed Canary Grass. Further along, I descended the bank to see and hear some rapids. According to city records, the river flows with a mean discharge rate of 254 ft³/second. I crossed a footbridge and saw a large gneiss boulder next to the trail. I circled back along the other side of the river where I spotted a White Oak tree with a few dead leaves still clinging to the branches. Continuing on the trail, I noticed a frost-covered Velvetleaf plant. Following the trail southwest along the river, I noticed the fluffy white seeds of Old Man’s Beard. Also called Traveler's Joy, this import from Europe and southwestern Asia is an aggressively spreading woody vine that can grow up to 100 feet long and can completely blanket trees and other plants. Creamy white flowers in summer are followed by feathery seed heads in the fall, giving this vine its name. Also, I was pleased to see a delicate, frost-covered spider web. Next, I looked up to see a male Cardinal fluttering through the dogwoods. Further along, I spotted some bright red berries hanging over the water and large bracket fungi on a tree trunk. Pausing at an overlook, I was amazed by how smooth the river’s surface was. I retraced my steps, crossed another footbridge and followed a dirt trail along the other side of the river where I observed a Junco darting through the brush, a sure sign of the season. The trail took me past many downed logs covered with moss and lots of Box Elder tree trunks growing in all directions. I came to the Mill Pond where I notice some duckweed along the shore as well as two hens and a drake Mallard swimming nearby. Finally, we headed for the van to return to Alma.

Have you ever noticed a tree
standing naked against the sky, 

How beautiful it is? 

All its branches are outlined, and in its nakedness 

There is a poem, there is a song. 

Every leaf is gone and it is waiting for the spring. 

When the spring comes, it again fills the tree with 

The music of many leaves, 

Which in due season fall and are blown away. 

And this is the way of life.


Krishnamurti

November 10

Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. The mid- day weather was cloudy, hazy with a temperature of 50 degrees and no wind. Today’s trek included my annual quest for chlorophyll. I planned to focus on the color of late autumn plants and leaves, especially those that retained the color green. At the crest of the hill, I gazed west at a brown and beige, green-less landscape. Descending the hill, I paused at Mallard Marsh for a stare down with a doe, nearly hidden in the cattails. I walked through Bobolink Meadow and entered North Woods where I spotted a small green Christmas fern sticking up through the leaf litter. Several North American Indian tribes used this plant to treat a variety of medical conditions. A tea made from the root was used in the treatment of chills, fever and pneumonia. A decoction of the root was massaged into rheumatic joints. The powdered root was inhaled and then coughed up in order to restore the voice. Further along, I noticed most of the leaves on a clump of Nut sedge were still green. Exiting the woods, I hiked along the edge of Succession Field where I noticed some Autumn Olive plants still had a few green leaves on them. At the west end, I saw some green leaves left on Multi flora rose. Continuing around the field, I spotted a patch of green Goldenrod plants tucked back in the shelter and shade of trees on the edge of South woods. I entered South woods and was surprised to see a dead, adult raccoon lying next to the large White Oak tree. After examining the body, I was unable to determine the cause of death. Walking along the edge of Swanson Swamp, I was surprised to see some Cattails still had green leaves. I exited the woods, passed Artist Overlook and followed the trail along the edge of Sora Swale where a few Black Raspberry plants still had some green leaves. Following the south trail, I looked closely at the path where there was a mixture of cool season grasses, green clover and broadleaf weeds. I turned south at Frog Fen, followed the path to Brady Cemetery and then walked over to the neighbor’s plowed field where lots of unknown weeds were green and growing. I turned and hiked past the cemetery and entered Native Grassland where I left the trail and found lots of green moss growing on an old cement slab where a barn use to be. Without a complex vascular system, mosses can photosynthesize at temperatures down to just above freezing and thus maintain a lush green color throughout the fall and winter. Heading north toward the barn, I spotted a Cottonwood sapling with some green leaves on it. I arrived at the Classroom Building where I spotted some green Hoary Alyssum growing over the drain field on the east lawn. Finally, it was back to the van for our trip home.

The stripped and shapely


Maple grieves


The ghosts of her


Departed leaves.

The ground is hard,


As hard as stone.


The year is old,


The birds are flown.

And yet the world,


In its distress,


Displays a certain


Loveliness


John Updike