February 23

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 27 degrees and a light southwest wind blowing moderate snow flurries. Standing on the crest of the hill, I gazed west at a white landscape where five inches of snow fell yesterday. I descended the hill, passed Mallard Marsh and walked through Bobolink Meadow where a thin layer of ice under the fresh snow made the footing unstable. Despite my best efforts to step cautiously, I took an ungraceful spill. Fortunately, Remi was the only one around to witness this embarrassing tumble. After cleaning the snow off my clothes and checking for bruises, I continued west where I noticed a few crows perched high in a tree ahead in North Woods. Entering the woods, I followed the trail west and noticed how some of the recent snow had been blown and stuck to the east side of the trees. I exited the woods and continued around Succession Field where I spotted a Tufted Titmouse feeding on dried Goldenrod seeds. Entering South Woods, I spotted a couple of holes under the boardwalk where squirrels had retrieved their stored food cache. I strolled along and paused at picturesque Swanson Swamp. I exited the woods, headed east then south to Artist overlook where I gazed north at Willow Wallow. Instead of taking my usual route around Sora Swale, I headed due east down the hill and walked out on the ice of the pond. Along with Mallard Marsh, this wetland was created in 1999 when drain tiles were broken and a berm was built on the north end. A small pond formed and after further study of the topography and hydrology of the area, more tiles were found and broken which expanded the pond to where it is today. I continued east and got back on the south trail where I once again slipped and took a tumble. Fortunately, I held my camera up so no snow got on it. Turning at Frog Fen, I followed the trail south to Brady Cemetery. I followed Adams Rd. east for a short distance and turned into Native Grassland. Continuing north, I noticed the property to the east was empty since the house and barn had been demolished last week. Next, I got off the path and stepped on the ice of Grebe Pond where I followed the shoreline around to the north end and checked out the stand of Phragmites. I exited the pond, passed the observation deck and came to the Classroom Building where I noticed the bird feeders needed filling. Since birds are warm-blooded, they need to maintain their body temperature at around 100 degrees even when the temperature around them is freezing. To keep up a high metabolic rate, our resident birds consume lots of seeds and suet. Finally, we made it to the car for our trip home.

Dynamics of nature may seem cruel
Kill or be killed is a general rule
A life must be taken to help another
One will make it, but not the other
Animal lies dead on the ground
Food for the living has been found
I mourn the end of a creature’s life
I hope for no pain, I hope no strife
Cycle of life and death goes on
Ways of the wild of which I am fond

D. DeGraaf

February 16

Saturday would have been a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. However, I decided to travel to Riverdale and hike part of the Fred Meijer Heartland Trail instead. This trail is a converted railroad bed stretching 41 miles between Alma and Greenville. The early morning weather was mostly cloudy with a temperature of 18 degrees and no wind. We headed east on a snow-covered path where I noticed patches of dark green, segmented stems of horsetail or equisetum. Crossing a bridge, I gazed down at the Pine River flowing north to south. Continuing east, I spotted some White Cedar trees next to the trail and a few Chickadees fluttering among leafless branches. Looking up, I noticed a single, tall White Pine. Further along, I saw lots of Wild Turkey tracks crossing the trail. In winter, turkeys eat primarily mosses, buds, fern spores, seeds, and leftover corn found on farms. Turkeys eat nuts during fall to build up fat, which helps keep them alive when food is buried under the snow. Turkeys will sometimes eat the buds off twigs and stems. Hard-crusted snow makes it easier for turkeys to move and find food, while deep powdery snow hinders their movement. Also, I noticed tracks where several deer crossed over. Glancing ahead, I could see a large oak tree still had some leaves on it. Under the tree, clumps of dead, brown ferns could be seen sticking through the snow cover. Fresh Cottontail rabbit scat and tracks indicated this area was prime habitat for these mammals. Next, I came to a clearing and looked north at a snow-covered field where crops grew last summer. After hiking about a half mile, we turned around and retraced our steps heading west where I was surprised to see a White Oak leaf imbedded about and inch in the snow. So this is what happened. Earlier in the week, the leaf landed on the snow followed by sunshine. The leaf and the snow around it got the same amount of sunlight, but the white snow reflected more than the darker leaf did. Since the leaf absorbed or kept more of the light, it got warmer than the snow around it. That is why the snow around the leaf melted faster than snow further away from the leaf. As the snow under the leaf melted, gravity pulled the leaf down to form a depression. Continuing west, I spotted a few samaras of Box Elder that had recently fallen. Along the bank, I noticed a patch of leafless Prickly Ash trees. Looking up, I spotted a bird nest and thought about how exposed and vulnerable it was nestled in tree branches without the protection of leaves. Crossing the bridge again, I gazed at the open water of the Pine River. Finally, we made it back to the car for our trip home.

When winter's breeze goes dashing

It does some magical things

It gives the shadows dancing shoes

It lends the glistening snow wings

When winter's breeze goes dashing. 


It curls the hearths tail of smoke

And shares a small whispered joke.
With pines delighting in prattle

Lifting their cones to a rattle

When winters breeze goes dashing.

Valannia Incendarious

February 9

Saturday was a good day at Forest Hill for a hike with my dog, Remi. The early morning weather was sunny with a frigid temperature of 9 degrees below zero and no wind. Since the parking lot was not plowed after yesterday’s 10-inch snowfall, I drove to the end of Adams road and parked by Brady Cemetery. I followed a snowmobile track north through Native Grassland where the vegetation sparkled with a thick layer of hoarfrost. Continuing along the path, I thought of how important this snow cover is to certain critters. I could imagine small mice and voles scurrying about through a network of tunnels just under the snow. Without this protection, they would be easily visible to predators. One tunnel may lead to a meal of grasses or seeds, or the bark of woody plants. Another passageway may lead to a cozy nest. These animals don't have the fur or fat required to keep their bodies insulated. The snow provides that insulation. Ground temperature under a blanket of snow stays at about 32 degrees even if the air temperature is well below freezing. I continued along the edge of Grebe Pond toward the barn. Passing the barn, Remi and I trudged through two-foot snowdrifts to the Classroom Building where I filled the feeders, much to the delight of hungry birds. Next, I proceeded to the crest of the hill and gazed west at the snowy white landscape. I descended the hill and glanced at Mallard Marsh as I hiked through Bobolink Meadow. At the entrance to North Woods, I turned south and hiked to Willow Wallow and thought about the history of this wetland. Back in 1995 as part of the Fish & Wildlife Service wetland restoration efforts, this area was excavated while some tiles were broken. A long, deep trench was formed as dirt was pushed up to form the berm on which the path is now located. A pond formed almost immediately but some water continued to seep away from the west end. After several years, the seepage naturally stopped and the pond expanded into the large wetland that is seen today. Next, I circled Succession Field where I noticed some fresh rabbit and deer tracks. Some tracks may tell a story of creatures walking, running or hopping to find food or escape predation. They may tell if the creature was alone and vulnerable or in the security of a group. Other tracks may tell a of a human hiking alone or with a dog to enjoy nature in the winter. Entering South Woods, I hiked next to Swanson Swamp and thought about another resident creature that depends on snow for its survival. It is the rarely seen Least Weasel whose fur turns white in the winter to blend in and avoid predation. I exited the woods, headed east and then turned south past Sora Swale where I spotted an Eastern Bluebird perched in a tree warming itself in the morning sun. Finally, I followed the south trail back to the cemetery, jumped in the car and headed for home.

Faithful companion who hikes with me
Little white dog named Remi
Sometimes in front, sometimes behind
As long as I see him, I really don’t mind
Sometimes he’ll walk. Sometimes run
Along with me, he’s having fun
He’s there in winter, there in fall
He always returns whenever I call
His smell is acute. Sniffs everything
Ears perk up when the birds sing
My four-legged friend will stare
To see what’s stirring over there
He frolics in snow with such glee
Little white dog named Remi

D. DeGraaf

February 2

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 14 degrees and light snow flurries falling in calm air. At the crest of the hill, I gazed west at the landscape where an inch of fresh snow covered the bare ground as warm temperatures and hard rain earlier in the week had melted everything. Descending the hill, I passed Mallard Marsh where five deer took off and headed across the neighbor’s cornfield. I continued through Bobolink Meadow where I spotted a newly dug Vole tunnel. Also, I noticed fresh tracks of a large buck with its splayed hooves and prominent dewclaws. Entering North Woods, I headed west and exited into Succession Field where I was surprised to see some dead leaves still clinging to a White Oak tree. I entered South Woods and walked along the edge of Swanson Swamp where I stopped to view a Downy Woodpecker hammering away on an Aspen tree. Exiting the woods, I headed east, turned north and hiked east along the edge of Willow Wallow. I climbed the west side of Reflection Hill and glanced down at Grebe Pond to reflect on the history of this wetland. Prior to 1983 this low area was indeed a marshy wetland. At that time, Richard Recker who owned the Forest Hill property and farmed it, tiled this section and drained off the water so he could grow crops. In 1995, the Soil Conservation District, who then owned the property, in partnership with the Fish & Wildlife Service broke some tile to restore this wetland. The first attempt only partially filled the area with water. After further investigation, more tiles were discovered and broken. So by 1996 the area filled up completely to form a 3-acre pond. Gradually, the pond evolved into prime habitat for aquatic flora and fauna that we see today. Next, I descended the hill to the south where I saw how the amber tips of willow branches added a colorful hue to the somewhat drab Frog Fen vegetation. I continued past Brady Cemetery and entered Native Grassland where I was pleased to see that the dead prairie grasses sticking up added a golden hue to the stark meadow. I continued north past the barn and arrived at the Classroom Building to view the feeders where I saw a Chickadee eating peanuts and a Goldfinch eating thistle. West of the feeders, I spotted a couple of elliptical Goldenrod galls. Whereas the round gall is made by a fly, this gall is made by a moth. The moth eggs hatch out in the spring and the larva finds a goldenrod and burrows into the stem where it develops during the summer inside the gall. By late summer, the larva tunnels out and changes into an adult moth. Finally, I filled the feeders before we returned to the car and took off for home.

When I tread,
in secret, untrodden snow
with Winter
I shuffle beside the low sun,
through crisp, golden chestnut leaves
of Autumn
and dance with daisies
in the wild meadow
of Summer.
Underfoot,
the birth of Spring
is difficult.

Sally Plumb