December 28

Welcoming the winter morning sun, I’m taking the “River Walk” in downtown Alma. With temperatures just above freezing and a noticeable south wind, I pause on a footbridge to observe the gently flowing water of the Pine River as it passes north through a corridor of leafless vegetation. Also, I’m amazed by the collection of colorful lichens growing on the metal bridge beam. Along the snowless riverbank, I come across Bush Honeysuckle with its bright red berries and a stand of unfamiliar looking reed-like stalks that I discover are from highly invasive Japanese Knotweed. Sometimes known as "Mexican bamboo" or "Michigan bamboo," this plant spreads rapidly with reddish stalks and broad leaves.Referred to as the “Incredible Hulk” of plants, it’s hard to get rid of.  If you mow it down, it spreads. If you dig it up, it spreads. Tiny bits of it can take root anywhere. Toss "dead" knotweed into a compost pile and it becomes a knotweed patch. If you spray it with herbicides, it explodes with growth. Continuing on the paved path as it curves eastward, I spot a well-camouflaged fox squirrel moving through the brush and a few Mallards swimming downstream while a gust of wind sways samaras in a Box Elder tree. Crossing another footbridge, I pause to look and listen as the river flows eastward. Exploring the bank next to the Euclid ballfields, I notice a few patches of ice as well as green leaves of Prickly Lettuce. During its first year, this biennial plant overwinters as a rosette of basal leaves. Gazing skyward, I’m not surprised to spot a couple of Fox squirrel nests. Because these critters are constantly scurrying from place to place, it’s common for them to have a second and third nest located near their main home. These additional nests are often used in an emergency to hide from a predator, to store extra food and even as a temporary rest stop. Up ahead, I first hear some European Starlings, then look up to see them perching in a tall Cottonwood tree and then, watch them fly away. These birds turn from spotted and white to glossy and dark each year without shedding their feathers. The new feathers they grow in fall have bold white tips that look like spots. (stock photo) By spring, these tips have worn away, and the rest of the feather is dark and iridescent brown. (stock photo). It’s an unusual changing act that scientists term “wear molt.”

 

Senses and seasons of nature

Through the months, through the mind

Waves that crashed, rivers that flowed

Sun that shined, skies that snowed

Through the meadow, through the woods

O’er fields of summer flowers

Blooming in the daylight hours

Through the fog, through the rain

Paths of dirt, trails of sod

Up and down slopes to trod

Through the wind, through the wild

Memories held, far and near

Grateful for another year

 

D. DeGraaf

December 21

I’m at the south end of Alma’s Conservation Park, facing the early morning sun as it rises above the snowy landscape and distant treetops. It’s partly cloudy and cold as I pause to recognize this moment when the sun is at its winter solstice-the lowest altitude of the year (stock photo). Unfortunately, our closest star soon disappears behind a thick cloud layer. To celebrate this event, which is also the astronomical start of the winter season here in the northern hemisphere, I'm performing a Native American ritual of making and using a Prayer Stick. A few days ago, I located a Cedar tree in the park with a branch to be used for such a stick. As a way to honor all living things, I conducted a tobacco ceremony of thanksgiving to the tree before cutting and peeling the branch. Tobacco has been used by Indian nations for centuries as a medicine with cultural and spiritual importance. It was burned or smoked to promote physical, spiritual, emotional, and community well-being. It was used as an offering to the Creator or to another person, place, or being. In many teachings, the smoke from burned tobacco had a purpose of carrying thoughts and prayers to the spirit world or Creator. After adorning the stick with jewels, a feather and some fur, I now proceed through a wooded landscape to a special place along the Pine River, dig a small hole, attach a red bag of tobacco and plant it. Concluding the sacred ritual, I invoke the Great Sprit, Mother Earth and Father Sun by reciting a Native American prayer. Next, I continue ahead to the Eyer Learning circle where I sit and ponder the idea of celestial motions. Nearby, at the bird feeders, I watch a Downy Woodpecker feeding on a suet cake and a Tufted Titmouse searching for seeds. Titmice take advantage of a full feeder by storing many of the seeds they get. They carry them off one at a time, open and eat them, or hide them in tiny holes in trees or wedged behind bark. On the other feeder, I spot a White-breasted Nuthatch, another bird that often hides its seeds. These small agile birds creep along trunks and large branches, probing into bark furrows with their straight, pointed bills. Like other nuthatches, they often turn sideways and upside down on vertical surfaces as they forage.

 

Earth slumbers

Winter draws nigh

Sun of the season

Low in the sky

Deep in December

First snowy days

Sun of the season

Cooler your rays

Wildlife in waiting

Nature’s content

Sun of the season

Begin your ascent

 

D. DeGraaf

December 14

On a cold, overcast morning, I proceed west along a paved path in Alma’s Conservation Park and pause to observe a pair of Mallards swim through the mirrored surface of the Pine River Millpond. Just ahead, a sun-less view of the watercourse from the deck is in sharp contrast to the sunny view from a week ago. Nearby, I notice a perching Fox squirrel and a thin layer of ice forming near shore. Turning inland, I proceed south past the Girl Scout cabin and stop to take a close look at a patch of British Soldier lichens growing on a stump. This lichen’s claim to fame, of course, is its bright red top, which some think is reminiscent of the red jackets worn by the British “Red Coats” during the Revolutionary War. In fact, this is the lichen’s fruiting body, its reproductive structure or “apothecia” that contain spores. Following a trail along the south end of the park, I enter a dense coniferous forest of mature White pine, Red pine and White spruce. After following the meandering trail that is also used by mountain bikers, I exit into a clearing where I spot some deer scat and a fresh Opossum carcass. Opossums are one of nature’s most misunderstood animals. They’re often thought of as dimwitted and dirty creatures. The truth is just the opposite: They’re smarter, cleaner, and more beneficial to humans than many of their woodland neighbors. In North America, the words “opossum” and “possum” mean the same creature, but in Australia the word possum refers to a completely different animal known as a Brushtail Possum (stock photo). Next, I walk over to the Eyer Learning Circle of six outward-facing benches to take in the late Autumn landscape and sit for a few minutes on the north-facing bench. My last stop is the bird observation hut where I pause to observe a Dark-eyed Junco on the feeder. While I’m not surprised to see this bird, a winter-only resident in the park, I am surprised to see it up on the feeder rather than on the ground where it normally forages for seeds that have fallen. Although still considered common, current data show that Dark-eyed Junco populations declined by over 40 percent in the last several decades. Like many other bird species, this one is vulnerable to habitat loss.

 

Deep in the woods    

Noises cease              

Sounds subdued

Nature at peace

Mid of December

End of the year

Mother prepares

Slumber is near

Tucks her children

Turns down the light

Covers them up

With a blanket of white

 

D, DeGraaf

December 7

Temperatures in the low 30’s and sunny skies greet me as I begin my hike in Alma’s 50-acre Conservation Park. My first stop is the Eyer Learning Circle that has been renovated to include outward-facing benches for patrons to sit quietly and take in whatever nature has to offer. Nearby. I enter the bird observation hut to look at one of the feeders as a couple of Black-capped Chickadees stop by. I watch while they grab seeds and quickly fly off. Unlike birds with stronger beaks, like finches that can immediately open seeds and eat them on the feeder, the smaller-beak Chickadees move to nearby perches, gripping seeds with their feet while pecking meat out of the hulls. Working my way west through a late Autumn landscape, I come upon an Eastern White Pine tree with a large, unusual growth. This diseased or mutated mass of dense, deformed twigs and foliage, caused by fungi, insects, nematodes or viruses is called a Witch’s Broom. The name evolved in ancient times when they were often found in old trees in old cemeteries. It was believed this was the spot where a witch had rested during her nightly travels. Following a meandering trail through the woods, I look overhead to see a feeding Downy Woodpecker and look downward to notice needle-like ice crystals on green foliage. Once out in the open, I pause as a wind gust from the west passes through the leaves of a Black willow tree.  Also, I’m puzzled as to why these green leaves have not turned yellow and dropped like the rest of the willows in the park. Just ahead, bright red berries, still hanging from  a Viburnum tree, catch my eye. Working my way north, I pause on a high bank of the Pine River to scan the clear, blue water of the millpond, a far cry from what it looked like in July when covered by choking algae and pondweed (stock photo). Not surprisingly, I see and hear several gaggles of Canada geese swimming about. Most of them are resident geese that will stay around here through the winter as long as there is open water. Following a path eastward, I’m surprised to spot a single Common Merganser swimming far offshore. After spending its summer in the far north, this migrant is heading for warmer winter weather in the southern and western United States. 

 

Dawn of December

Pulse of nature slows

Decaying leaf litter 

Dusted by early snows

Down earthen tunnels

Retreat meadow mice

Over the vacant pond

Brittle layer of ice

Creature sounds are few

No buzzing of bees

Only a Chickadee’s call

Heard among the trees

 

D. DeGraaf

November 30

On this mid-morning hike in Lumberjack Park, my senses awake to nature’s late autumn landscape. With the temperature just above freezing, I welcome the warming sun that now can reach me through the leafless canopy overhead. I can feel the chill of a westerly breeze that rustles through the towering pines. Stooping down along the edge of the Pine River, my fingers touch the cold, clear water as it flows by. Nearby, on the forest floor, I feel the cushiony soft surface of a moss-covered stump. Mosses have primitive roots that are simply used to cling to the stump. Their primitive leaves absorb all the necessary nutrients and moisture directly from the air. Looking around this late fall landscape, mosses seem to be one of few plants alive and green. Turns out this amazing plant not only survives cold weather but actually thrives. It can even grow in subzero temperatures by producing a type of antifreeze called arachidonic acid. In their role as a decomposers, mosses help in eventually breaking down the stump into soil. In the meantime, my ears welcome the quietude of the forest as I walk through a corridor of stark tree trunks and over a muddy, barren floodplain. I enjoy the sound of a distance crow, the river flowing overs rocks and the wind through the understory. As I follow the trail ahead, the sound of dried oak leaves crunching beneath my feet also pleases. My eyes welcome the artistry of the natural world along the way, such as the sight of sunbeams and shadows that adorn the path before me. Or reflections off the glassy surface water accentuated by the rippling current. Or the beautiful view from my favorite bench, secluded along the north bank. Or the blue sky beyond the needles of White Pine. Or the green of a sedge that colors the beige and browns of the leaf litter. Or a view of Mud Creek as it flows west into the Pine River channel. This 5-mile-long creek is a convergence of drains from farmland and 2 small lakes to the northeast (stock photo). Or the colorful Kingfisher as it perches above the river searching for prey. And then there are samples of leaf litter-wonderful collages of shapes, textures and colors. Sample 1 (Oak & Pine), Sample 2 (Oak, Maple & Aspen). Sample 3 (Mostly Beech).

Once, creatures ran

Now, in lairs they lie

Once, meadows teemed

Now, drab and dry

Once, a dense canopy

Now, open and bare

Once, singing birds

Now, songs are rare

November’s final days

Autumn’s final breath

Gone, season of life

Comes, season of death

 

D. DeGraaf

November 23

The weather is unseasonably benign as I begin my morning hike on a paved path in Mt Pleasant’s Millpond Park. Along the way, I spot Oyster mushrooms growing in an oak knothole as well as a decomposing tree trunk with black spots from a fungus called Hypoxylon canker. This fungus colonizes and kills weakened or stressed oak trees. Across the path, I glance at a field of cattails as a west wind buffets their seed heads. Just ahead, my first encounter with the Chippewa River reveals a wide channel, a gentle flow and a mirrored surface, displaying large leafless trees. Following the river downstream, I pause near shore to observe it move rapidly to the north. From here the Chippewa River turns east for about 30 miles where it empties into the Tittabawassee River in Midland. According to the nearby USGS measuring station, the water today is 3.6 feet deep and flows at a rate of 292 cubic ft/second. Exploring the bank, I come upon the bright red fruit of a Winterberry bush. Also known as Michigan holly. its long-lasting fruit remains into mid-winter and is a food source for robins, bluebirds and cedar waxwings. Crossing a footbridge to the north bank, I continue on the paved path where I notice an American Bittersweet vine with a few remaining berries. As with Winterberry, this fruit is poisonous to humans but edible to wildlife. As the path takes me past a few scraggly Box Elder trees, a Blue Jay makes its presence known. Most people recognize this familiar “jeer” call. It’s a sound this bird uses early and often to stay in touch with other jays. The call helps mates keep track of each other and also serves to assemble others in response to a threat.  Most people do not know that these birds have an amazing array of other vocalizations, none of which sound at all like the raucous jeer. One such call mimics hawks, especially the Red-shouldered hawk. Back at the riverside, I pause to watch a flock of Canada geese soar overhead and a breeding pair of Mallards swim along the far shore. These ducks will soon migrate south to the mid and southern states for the winter. Retracing my steps back toward the car, I notice a fresh buck rub as well as a gathering of Canada geese swimming and feeding on the mill pond. Seeming to be comfortable around me, they are likely resident geese who will stay in the area as long as there’s food and open water. On the other hand, there are non-resident geese in the area that are leery of humans, breed in more remote places and migrate south for the winter. Finally, it’s back to the car for my trip home to Alma.

 

Not too far from the hunter’s gun

Run, river run

Your journey’s not over, only half done

Run, river run

By light of the moon, light of the sun

Run, river run

Ice floes have not yet begun

Run, river run

Keeping you clean is priority one

Chippewa River, run

 

D. DeGraaf

November 16

Partly cloudy skies, mild temperatures and a gentle southerly breeze accompany me on a midmorning hike along the edge of Isabella County’s Salt Creek as it flows north through the village of Shepherd.  Back in the mid 1800’s, a village called “Salt River” sprang up here (stock photo) that included a grain mill and sawmill, with the river providing power. After the Civil War, veteran Isaac Shepherd expanded the village and renamed it after himself. However, present day names and locations of the Salt River are somewhat confusing. Current maps label this watercourse, “Salt Creek” while some refer to it as “Little Salt River”. These designations are not be confused with the northern and southern branches of the Salt River (Big Salt River) that converge into the main branch in the northern part of the county. Observing the flowing creek, I note willow leaves carried downstream have backed up due to a dam of tangled brush and leaves. Further ahead, the current speeds up as it flows through a narrow gap of downed trees. Making my way along the east bank, I spot the dried 1-inch seedpods of Wild Cucumber and a leafless Multiflora Rosebush displaying lots of bright red hips. Noticing that many large Ash trees have died and fallen into the creek, I come upon one of them that clearly shows how the Ash Borer larvae tunneled under the bark to girdle and kill it. As a patch of blue sky appears above the leafless canopy, I make my way around to the west bank where I pause to watch a Fox Squirrel scurry through the underbrush. Next, I come upon a Japanese Barberry bush with its red leaves and red fruit. Continuing to explore the surrounding flood plain, I look east through the dense underbrush to barely make out the rotating blades of one of many wind turbines that have been recently constructed in the county. From here, the creek flows northeast about 10 miles into Midland County where it empties into the Chippewa River. Turning around, I’m pleased to spot a few dark-colored birds flashing their white wing patches as they flutter through the underbrush and realize, as one perches close by, they are Dark-eyed Juncos. A sure sign of late Autumn, these birds migrate from the far north to spend their winter here in Michigan. Further along, I pause to watch a female Downey Woodpecker pecking away on a twig. Females do not have a red patch on the back of their heads like males have (stock photo). Back to the car, I head for home.

 

November’s leafless canopy-

bare branches, stratus gloom

view above the forest floor.

How I miss the dome of beauty,

splashed with scarlet and gold,

backlit with midday beams.

Low and behold the trail-

strewn with colors and designs 

is just as beautiful.

My feet welcome leafy aisles 

until early snows replace 

tapestries of autumn with 

blankets of purest white.

 

D. DeGraaf 

November 9

I’m west of Alma in the small village of Elwell ready to hike on the Meijer Heartland Trail. The early afternoon weather is sunny with temperatures in the upper 60’s and a steady head wind as my wife, Caroline, my daughter, Allison and I walk west on the paved path through a corridor of mostly leafless, broadleaf trees that only a few weeks ago displayed brilliant fall colors.  However, closer observations reveal that some trees still retain leaves, ranging from chlorophyll green to those lacking any pigments. Gazing skyward, I notice a few leaves still atop some tall White poplar trees as well as some on the path. This non-native tree, often confused with White birch, is rarely seen around here but does have some invasive traits. It outcompetes many native tree species and interferes with the normal progress of natural succession. Dense stands of White poplar prevent other plants from coexisting by reducing the amount of sunlight, nutrients, water and space available. Continuing west, I spot a massive White Oak holding many brown, papery leaves as well as some in the leaf litter. The name for this type of leaf retention is marcescence, from a Latin root meaning ‘to shrivel’. Like other types of oaks, this tree lacks enzymes responsible for producing an abscission layer (stock photo) at the base of the leaf stem that allows the leaf to easily be released from the tree. As to why this occurs, one commonly accepted belief is that by concealing next year’s growth; the tasty, nutritious, new-twig growth and buds that lie beneath them; the desiccated, bitter-tasting, difficult-to-digest leaves, which have little food value, may act as a deterrent to browsers, such as deer. Not surprisingly, up ahead I come upon a mature Red Oak holding its leaves as well as a Bur Oak with some of its leaves on the path. Still heading west, I pass by a Quaking Aspen holding on to some leaves while many are seen on the path below. Nearby, I notice some leaves of American Elm still hanging on. Also, I spot two trees not only holding on to their leaves but also their fruit: Crab Apple and Wild Apple. Turning around and heading east, I pass by a small Black willow tree and a towering Rock Elm tree with leaves that are still green. Nearing the end of our hike, the bright red berries of Viburnum catch my attention. 

 

Gone from the fields

Luster of gold

Warmth of summer

Has now turned cold

Gone are redwings

That ruled the marsh

Winds of November

Blow stiff and harsh

Gone is the green

Of leaves and vines

Revelations of nature

Mid-autumn signs

 

D. DeGraaf

November 2

Near the end of my journey to reach the source of the Pine River, I’m a mile south of the village of Remus overlooking Pine Lake, a private, 16-acre impoundment of the river. Under overcast skies and temperatures in the low 40’s, I follow a leaf-covered path to the water’s edge to view the mirrored surface of this secluded, private lake. Tracing the river upstream from the lake, I find a narrow channel of water slowly flowing from north to south. Exploring the surrounding area, I glance up a huge Maple trunk to spot some edible, Chicken of the Woods mushrooms. In the leaf litter, I spot some unusual looking Aspen leaves. These yellow leaves with patches of green are not quite dead. Residing in a tiny pocket of tissue near the base of the green patch is a translucent 2mm. caterpillar (stock photo) feeding on tissue. The larva secretes an anti-senescent hormone that keeps part of the leaf alive so that it can keep eating. Soon, it will pupate for winter and emerge as a tiny adult moth (stock photo) in spring.  Next, I drive about a mile north to Wheatland Township Park in Remus to search for the actual terminus of the Pine. Hiking south from the car, I notice the leaf litter has Maple leaves with dark patches called Tar spot-a fungal disease that attacks the leaves but does not kill the tree. Overhead, as a gust of north wind blows, I observe leaves of a Willow tree sway against the gloomy sky. Continuing south, I trudge through a large wetland that, in-fact, is the ultimate source of water for the Pine River to begin flowing. Along the way, some plants with lingering fruit catch my eye including: Winterberry, Privet and Virginia Creeper. Finally, I come upon what can be called the beginning of the river channel-a narrow stream of water covered with a green blanket of highly invasive, Water Hyacinth. This free-floating aquatic plant forms dense mats that block sunlight from what once was open water. This drastically reduces the number of native algae and plankton in the water, which in turn disrupts the food chain. Native to South America, Water Hyacinth was introduced in the United States as an ornamental pond plant in the 1880’s. Spreading through the southern states, it’s now reached Michigan, although its impact is less since it dies back in sustained freezing temperatures. With gratitude for a successful journey from end to beginning, I bid farewell to the Pine River.

 

End of the beginning 

Falling into springtime

Over months of weekly days

Flowing down upstream

Along narrow channel wide

On gentle current strong

Straight meandering course

With flooded shallow banks

Through vast fields of forests

Under clouds of sunny skies

Witnessing wildlife of death

Pine River with me, without

 

D. DeGraaf

October 26

Since last week’s Pine River encounter in Mecosta County’s village of Millbrook, I move about 2 miles northwest to find the river (left fork) flowing under 7-mile Rd. while converging with an unnamed stream (right fork). Under overcast skies, temperatures in the upper 40’s and a gusty west wind, I notice, as I get closer to its source, the river channel, that once was deep and wide, is shallow and only about 10 feet wide. Working my way along the west bank, I spot the leafless, burgundy branches of a Red Osier Dogwood shrub as well as the male catkins hanging from a Tag Alder tree. Further along, I observe a stand of dying Joe-pye weed whose flowers have gone to seed. In addition, my attention is drawn to a Nightshade vine with a few red berries and leaves with holes. The size and shape of these holes indicates prior feeding by a tiny insect that favors this plant -a 2 mm weevil (stock photo). Pausing at the river’s edge, I take in the sounds of flowing water and cawing crows. Turning around and making my way back to the road, I notice a Goldenrod stem with two fresh ball galls as well as a clusters of fern-like Wild Carrot leaves among the grasses. The life cycle of this biennial plant begins with the formation of these basal rosettes. Emerging now, they will stay green throughout the winter, covered with snow. During the second year, it produces a flower stalk that terminates in umbrella-shaped clusters of small white flowers called Queen-Anne’s Lace. Nearby, I see the folded-up flower heads of this plant as the cycle continues.  Back on the road, I first look north as the river runs under an overhanging Dogwood shrub with its reddening leaves and then look east at a Wild Apple tree with one remaining fruit. Working my way along the east bank, I come upon a dense stand of mature Yellow Birch trees whose inner bark contains oil of wintergreen. By scratching and sniffing a twig, one can enjoy the pleasant aroma. Scanning the forest floor, I spot some Oyster mushrooms and Amber Jelly fungi. At first glance, these jelly fungi don’t look like something you’d want to eat, but this species is edible. Nature foragers soak them in water and rinse them before cooking. However, they taste rather bland with a texture on the rubbery side. On the other hand, the blandness works in its favor as it absorbs the flavors of sauces and spices sautéed with them. 

Late October river flow

Before flurries of snow

Oak leaves lose their glow

Young buck seeks a doe

Turtles dive deep below

Water moves, fast to slow

Far away calls the crow

Redwings left long ago

Cattails cease to grow

Nature’s autumn show

 

D. DeGraaf

October 19

It’s a partly cloudy, chilly morning as I watch the Pine River flow east under 4^th street, a dirt road in Montcalm County’s village of Millbrook. Following a groomed trail down into the flood plain, I find myself in a dense stand of Black Locust trees, of various ages including mature ones with deeply furrowed bark. Considered invasive species, these trees with their compound leaves, reproduce rapidly by sending up new shoots from roots. Stands like this replace existing native vegetation, reducing plant diversity. They can also alter soil characteristics through their ability to fix nitrogen, facilitating the spread of other nonnative species, such and garlic mustard. Despite these problems, the high-density wood from Black Locust is extremely rot resistant, making it an ideal material for fenceposts, outdoor furniture, decks, and other projects that require weatherproof materials. Moving to the riverbank, I pause to watch the flowing water while listening to a Wild Turkey. This “assembly” call is used by the female to bring a scattered flock back together. Continuing on the leaf-covered trail, I’m not surprised to come upon a turkey feather mixed with mostly elm leaves, Nearby, I spot an old Goldenrod ball gall with a hole in it, most likely made by a Woodpecker or Chickadee who detected a small maggot developing inside and dug it out for a quick meal. Up ahead, I see the milkweed-like seeds of a Swallow-wort vine. This invasive species is a perennial climbing vine that can form extensive patches and smother native vegetation. Making my way back to the riverside, I notice the drooping seed heads of Foxtail grass as well as a decaying log covered with Whitewash lichen. Retracing my steps back to the road, I begin to explore the opposite bank where I notice a few colorful leaves of Sumac that remain on the branches as well as the familiar call of a Nuthatch. Walking back to the car, I gaze a short distance west at the old abandoned grain mill with its rusted-out waterwheel that was an important part of the history of this village and thus the name, Millbrook. Records indicate that the “brook” was indeed the Pine River (stock photo) that was dammed, creating an extensive millpond (stock photo). The rapid current thus provided energy to turn the waterwheel and grind the grain into flour (stock photo). 

We meet again river called Pine

Who did you pass along the way?

Was it an angler casting a line

Or on the shore, children play

Maybe a hiker over a bridge

Or a farmer plowing the bank

Maybe someone photographing

Or crop duster emptying its tank

Maybe an owner treating his lawn

Or canoeist going with the flow

Or picnickers littering the edge

Human being, friend or foe?

 

D. DeGraaf

October 12

For the last Pine River encounter in Isabella County, I leave my car off Chapman Rd., just east of the village of Millbrook. It’s mid mourning under sunny skies and temperatures in the upper 50’s when I pause on the bank to watch the river flow eastward through a scenic autumn landscape. The muddy shoreline reveals a leaf litter of maple and hickory as well as green Starwort pondweed. Gazing skyward, I could barely make out a gibbous moon through the leafless branches of a towering dead Ash tree. Hiking through dense underbrush, I pass by Virginia Stickseed and Burdock where, not surprisingly, several of their seeds and burrs stick to my pants. In 1948, Swiss engineer, George de Mestral duplicated the hook and loop fastener inspired by the Burdock burrs. The result of his new invention was Velcro ® brand fasteners, a name that came from the French words for velvet (“velours”) and hook (“crochet”). Looking down, I spot the posterior of a 4-inch Leopard Frog, noting its skin is darker than the usual green-mostly like a genetic variation. Back to the water’s edge, I look overhead as a gust of wind moves through a stand of colorful, mature maple and then look down to see a couple of never-before-seen Ditch Stonecrop plants with their colorful seed capsules. Continuing to explore the bank, I observe two plants with ripe fruit of nearly the same color and size, namely Wild Grape and Virginia Creeper. Despite these similarities, there are critical differences. Fruit of Wild Grape can be eaten as a trail snack but tastes better after the first frost. Making juice from the grapes is a great way to benefit from their goodness. Also, since the grapes freeze well, they can be used for juice throughout the winter. The leaves are also edible. They can be eaten in a salad (they have a tangy citrusy taste) or cooked. On the other hand, Virginia creeper berries and leaves are toxic. They contain tiny crystals called oxalate crystals.  If chewed, they can cause irritation to the lips, mouth, tongue, and throat. Although rare, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and difficulty swallowing can occur. Heading back to the car, I pause to notice Timothy Grass is in bloom before taking one last look at the river as the morning sun reflects off the water.  

High in a canopy

Touching a cloud

Leaf of scarlet

Lost in the crowd

Time to let go

Time to break free

Tis the season

Fall from the tree

Waft thru branches 

Without a sound

Welcome to earth

Adorn the ground

 

D, DeGraaf

October 5

With a chill in the air and the early morning sun at my back, I’m standing on Isabella County’s Roland Rd. bridge as the Pine River flows gently under me. Descending the roadbed into the floodplain, I make my way gingerly toward the channel through a very wet stand of matted down Reed Canary grass. This cool-season perennial grass thrives in conditions like this. However, it’s highly invasive and spreads rapidly through rhizomes to produce dense stands, preventing the growth of native wetland species. Arriving at the bank, I look around to see the delicate web of an orb weaver as well as seed pods of Swamp Milkweed. Nearby, decaying tree trunks display rarely seen Liverwort and Elegant Sunburst Lichen. Also known as the “space lichen”, this species was sent to the International Space Station and exposed to the vacuum of space. After surviving for 18 months by drying up and going dormant, it began to grow when given water upon returning to Earth. Moving along the bank, I first hear the faint call of a solitary Chickadee and then spot a few berries of Bittersweet Nightshade. There is much disagreement over the toxicity of these berries. Some say that paralysis can result in humans that have eaten as few as six berries. Cases of poisoning in cattle, horses, and sheep have been documented. Concentrations of toxic compounds within plants may vary with growth stage, and chemical components may vary from one individual plant to the next. Working my way back to the road, a Maple tree with leaves changing colors catches my eye. After crossing the bridge, I begin to explore the far bank where I observe a Crane Fly resting in the undergrowth, a few berries still clinging to a Silky Dogwood bush and a Curly Dock plant loaded with seeds. As a relative of buckwheat, Dock seeds are edible. Nature foragers strip them from the stem and grind them into flour that is high in fiber and gluten free. Along the way, I notice lots of Joe-Pye weed fully seeded out and a decaying tree trunk loaded with aging and browning Oyster Mushrooms. Turning around, I make my way back toward the car where I’m surprised to see a few colorful blossoms, including White Sweet Clover and Red Clover Also, the colorful leaves and hips of a Wild Rose vine catches my eye. Back in the car, I take off down the road noticing “road apples” deposited by a half dozen Amish horse and buggies that I saw during my hour-long river encounter.

 

Back by your side, riverflow

Favorite season? Hard to know

Now it’s time for autumn’s show

Midstream mirrors the dazzling sun

amid maple red and aspen gold.

But, what about winter, riverflow

when drifts adorn the frozen shore.

Or, what about spring? When 

blossoms decorate barren banks.

And then there’s summer when

emerald walls line your channel wide.

Riverflow, back by your side.

 

D. DeGraaf

September 28

The midmorning temperature is 63 degrees under sunny skies as I turn west off Isabella County’s Britton Rd., onto a 2-track, drive for a ¼ mile along a powerline easement, park and walk another 100 yards to view the Pine River as it converges with Pony Creek. This creek is one of 20 tributaries included in the 425 square mile Pine River watershed. Midstream, I spot a large irrigation pipe hooked to a pump. There are several of these along this river system, supposedly sanctioned by the state DEQ, permitting farmers to draw out millions of gallons of water and raising questions about the long-term impact of such practices. From the bank, I follow the river down stream where I come upon several mature Musclewood trees with their fluted and tight bark resembling muscle tissue, hence the name. This slow-growing understory tree is also called Blue Beech or American hornbeam. The name “hornbeam” derives from its extremely hard wood that takes a “horn-like” polish and was once used by early Americans to make bowls and ox yokes. The “beam” in hornbeam refers to the beam of wood that separated the ox bows. Also, the strength of the wood and resistance to cracking makes it a useful for toolmaking, such as axe handles. Pausing again to take in the surroundings, I notice some signs of early autumn, including a maple leaf at my feet, Virginia Creeper leaves on the far shore as well as a few fallen leaves being carried downstream. Other signs of the season include dying bracken fern fronds, bright red stems(pedicels) on a Gray Dogwood shrub and a few ripe Autumn Olive berries (Autumn berries) that I pick and eat. Not only is the fruit edible but it is also rich in vitamins A, C, and E. While most people know Autumn Olive is highly invasive, some realize that using the berries for sauces and jam requires boiling the berries, killing the seeds thus reducing its spread. This method of control is much more adaptive than dousing it with herbicides. Continuing to explore the landscape, I notice a Bumblebee feeding on Aster blossoms and a Honeybee feeding on Goldenrod blossoms. Just ahead, I come upon some unripe fruit of both Ground Cherry (Husk Tomatoes) and never-before-seen, American Beautyberry. Before heading back, I make my way over to the edge of Pony Creek to take in the sights and sounds. Finally, back to the car for my trip home where I pass a few horse-drawn buggies and several large Amish farms that often include lumbermills. This Old Order Amish settlement that began in1983 when families moved to the area from Ohio grew to 60 families by 2014.

Tell me your secrets

River of worth

What tales untold

Meandering earth

What of your water

Is it toxic or clean

Can flora thrive

Can fish convene

What of autumn

Now on display

Do aspens and maples

Color your way

 

D. DeGraaf

 

September 21

For my second Pine River encounter in Isabella County, I find myself standing on the Pleasant Valley Rd. bridge as a gentle current moves south through a lush landscape. The midmorning temperature is in the mid 60’s under partly sunny, but hazy skies due to smoke being blown from massive wildfires on the west coast, some 2300 miles away. Nearby, while listening to a chorus of Orthopterans (Grasshoppers, Crickets & Katydids), I spot some bright red berries of Maple Leaf Viburnum and Clematis vines seeding out to where it gets the name, “Old Man’s Beard.” Next to the bridge, I notice a 1/8-inch Leafhopper on a Knapweed blossom as well as some honeybees moving among blossoms of white Aster. Climbing down along the bank, I come upon some Smartweed, displaying two different color blossoms, most likely an example of genetic polymorphism. Further ahead, I pause to scan a patch of Cinnamon ferns with dying fronds. Upon a closer view, I spot some of their dark spore stalks. Approaching the river’s edge, I stop to take in the scenic riparian landscape. Near my feet, I can hardly see a Green frog resting in the mud. Despite their name, these amphibians are not always green but come in a range of colors from beige, black, brown, yellow, blue and of course green. Working my way back, I come upon two plants with sticky burrs, Burdock and Cocklebur. Also, I notice some Ragweed that is seeding out. Despite its reputation as a source of hay fever, ragweed is surprisingly edible. There's evidence that Native Americans actually planted it and harvested the seeds. The seeds have a large percentage of crude protein. This would have been an important food source during long winters. A nutritious oil was also produced by crushing and boiling the seeds in water. Plant-based fats were almost unheard of, so ragweed oil was definitely anticipated and harvested each season. Interestingly enough, ragweed was also part of the early herbal pharmacy. The crushed leaves are astringent, so that makes them effective in treating bug bites and rashes. Modern science has also discovered that ragweed can help remove toxic heavy metals like lead from the soil. The plants can help clear up industrial waste and improve the soil. Finally, another visit complete, I head for home.

 

I welcome these days

When Egrets pass through

Creeper leaves glow red

Their berries shine blue

I welcome the sun

On its annual descent

Geese are gathering

The meadow is spent

I welcome the morning

Cool and clear

I welcome autumn

Happy it’s here!

 

D. DeGraaf

September 14

It was last April when I began to follow the Pine River from its terminus in Midland County. While traveling upstream through Midland, Gratiot and Montcalm counties, I made 20 stops to explore the channel and its ecosystems. On this chilly, overcast morning, I’m at stop 21 in Isabella County pausing on the Fremont Rd. bridge to watch the river flow gently south along the edge of Coldwater Rd. Working my way along the bank, I notice some red Virginia Creeper leaves and a young Cocklebur plant. Since its burs get hopelessly tangled in the hair and fur of mammals, this is a plant to be avoided. Also, every part of it is extremely toxic to mammals and has caused many a death to livestock. Further along, I spot some Common Nettle plants loaded with green seeds. Despite the leaves causing skin to itch and burn if touched, the seeds are quite edible. They are tasty, crunchy and full of oil high in polyunsaturated fatty acids - predominantly linoleic and linolenic acids that our bodies use to make essential fatty acids. Just ahead, as a gust of wind from the north passes through, I observe the swaying blossoms of Joe-Pye Weed, some seeding out and a contracted flower head of Queen Anne’s Lace (Wild Carrot) that has a cage-like appearance. Grabbing the flower head and spreading it open with my fingers, I’m not surprised to find a ½-inch spotted caterpillar, larva of the Carrot-seed Moth (stock photo). This moth was first noticed in Midwestern North America in 2002. Some researchers suggest that it may have hitchhiked on a trans-Atlantic vessel that ended up at a Great Lakes port. Other sights along the bank include blossoms of White Turtlehead and Blue Vervain as well as the spiny 2-inch fruit of Wild Cucumber. Although this plant is related to the familiar, domestic vegetable, the prickly “cucumbers” are not edible. Nearby, I spot blossoms of Sky-blue Aster among Canadian Goldenrod and a large Goldenrod flower or bunch gall. This dense leaf growth is caused by a midge larva that disturbs normal leaf development. Continuing along the bank, I notice a Michigan Lily plant that once displayed its colorful blossoms (stock photo) has gone to seed, now displaying 1½ inch pods. Venturing off the main trail, I pass an Autumn Olive bush with some ripe fruit and then proceed through dense undergrowth back to the river’s edge. From here, I find my way back to the car and head for home. 

Seasons are changing

Nature gives and takes

One landscape fades

Another one awakes

Takes leaves of green

Gives us those of red

Takes away the flowers

Gives us seeds instead

Takes a redwing’s song

Gives us a cricket’s call

Takes away summer

Replaces it with fall

 

D. DeGraaf

September 7

Within a remote section of the Edmore State Game Area in Montcalm County as a bright morning sun and cool temperatures accompany me, I descend a steep, wooded bank toward another encounter with the Pine River. At the water’s edge, I pause to take in the quiet beauty of this riparian landscape as well as spot bird tracks on a small sandbar midstream. Based on the size, shape and location of the tracks, they appear to be those of a Bald Eagle. Away from the river, I come upon tiny blossoms of Virginia Knotweed, Blue-stem Goldenrod and the web funnel of a Wolf spider near the top of a Canadian Goldenrod plant. As the wind picks up, I gaze skyward at the dense, broadleaf canopy while in the lush understory I notice blossoms of Blue Lobelia and Cardinal flower. Next, I move into a soggy, peninsula-like floodplain, created by a sharp curve in the channel, where I observe a clump of Panicle Asters beginning to bloom and scattered blossoms of Nodding Bur Marigold. Nearby, on a small patch of mud, animal tracks catch my attention including raccoon and a meandering beetle. Another patch reveals a sitting, 1½-inch Wood frog, well-camouflaged against the muddy ground. Further along, a ½-inch Robber fly and a 1-inch Crane fly are seen basking on separate leaves. Despite rumors to the contrary, the Crane fly is neither a predator of mosquitoes nor a colossal mosquito. They spend most of their life as larvae (stock photo) living underwater in streams and rivers. These insects emerge as adults for a quick mating spree before dying. Since they have no mouthparts, they do not eat during their short, 2-week life. Turning around, I climb out of the floodplain and begin making my way back toward the car when I spot the red berry cluster of False Solomon Seals. Next, I witness a Crane fly flailing mightily to escape a spider web. This struggle to survive applies to all life forms and plays out constantly in the natural world. After watching it for about 20 seconds, the Crane fly gets away. Near the car, I notice some Ragweed, whose pollen is a major source of air borne allergies this time of year even though most people blame it on Goldenrod. Back in the car, I reflect on my river journey so far as I leave Montcalm County and soon move upstream into Isabella County.

They brought the river and me 

out of the doldrums of winter 

with their shrills of delight, 

and flights of flashing orange.

Perching, nesting in the cattails

brought beauty to our summer.

Today, a void, sadness of heart,

our blackbirds headed south,

heeding nature’s call.

I long for their return next year

so, we can share our lives again.

 

D. DeGraaf