February 18

Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. The early morning weather was partly sunny with a temperature of 30 degrees and a stiff wind out of the north. Before starting the hike, I paused to gaze west and noticed 4 inches of overnight snow had whitened the landscape. I descended the hill, passed Mallard Marsh and walked through Bobolink Meadow where I was surprised to see 3, quarter-inch larvae crawling on the snow. Entering North Woods, I followed the trail west. I exited the woods and stopped to see the deer carcass that continued to decompose. I assumed the hawks and crows that I had seen around here earlier in the week had been feeding on the flesh. I walked around the edge of Succession Field and observed a few white oak leaves still clinging to a tree. Entering South Woods, I hiked along the edge of Swanson Swamp. I exited the woods and continued to Artist Overlook where I paused to observe Sora Swale. A solitary Mourning Dove flew overhead heading east. Following south trail, I noticed some twig galls on a small white oak tree. Galls are abnormal growths comprised of plant tissue found on twigs or branches. These deformities are caused by a tiny wasp that produces a chemical inducing the plant to produce large, woody twig galls. Most galls are aesthetically not pretty, but normally cause little damage to the tree. Gall formation begins when a female gall wasp injects her eggs into a stem. Upon hatching from the eggs, the larvae begin feeding on the host tissue surrounding them. The plant’s defensive reaction to this intrusive irritation is to isolate the toxins or activities of the invader in a tough, tumorous mass of tissue called a gall. Ironically, in doing so the plant provides food and shelter for the developing larvae. After completing their growth and metamorphosis, often many months later, the adult wasps escape by chewing an exit tunnel through the wall of the gall. Next, I turned south at Frog Fen and was surprised how close I got to a single crow perched high up in a leafless Cottonwood tree. Heading toward Brady Cemetery, I noticed clusters of dehydrated wild grapes on one of the white pine trees. Passing the cemetery, I entered Native Grassland and followed the trail north along the edge of Grebe Pond. I arrived back at the Classroom Bldg. to see lots of movement at the bird feeders . Finally, I got in the van and headed for home.

Winter lingers,
as though,
Mother Nature
is unfulfilled.
Snow falls insistently,
endlessly, it seems.
Insulating life within
a cocoon of purest white
covering our world
with a blanket of
coldness, aloneness.
Each solitary flake
securing its place
within nature's plane
securing solitude,
and timelessness,
within its icy touch.
Isolating, insular
encapsulating
Mother Nature's
chilling season.

Hazelmarie Elliott