March 30

Despite leaving behind warm spring weather and lush landscapes of Southern California, Caroline and I are back home enjoying a mid day hike at Lumberjack Park. Amid sunny skies, temperatures in the mid 40’s and a light southerly wind, we follow a familiar trail north through a dense stand of leafless maple, aspen and oak. The silence and seclusion we notice stand in sharp contrast to the urbanized oases we hiked this past winter on the west coast. Along the boardwalk, I spot a sure sign of the season, a few sprouts of Skunk Cabbage emerging from the mudflats. Turning east, we proceed along the edge of Mud Creek where I see a fresh beaver stump. Having seen several of these in the park late last year, it appears they are still actively building something close by. Turning north and making it half way across the footbridge, I pause to watch the clear, shallow water of Mud Creek as it flows gently west where it will empty into the Pine River. Past the bridge, we follow the pine needle-covered trail crisscrossed with shadows of mature Red and White Pine. Looping around and downslope we pass a decaying log covered with Oyster fungi before reaching the edge of a swollen Pine River where I stop to look and listen. Moving west along the high bank, I pause to take in one of my favorite river vistas. Next, we follow the trail to Lumberjack Rd, cross the bridge over the river and turn east where I notice the burgundy branches of Red Osier Dogwood along the bank. Just ahead, we pause again to take in the peaceful sights and sounds of the flowing water. Continuing south on the new campground trail, blanketed with dead oak leaves, my search for anything green reveals a few ferns and sedges. Nearby, a cairn is seen to guide my way. Reaching the Madison Rd., bridge, we take one last look at this river that is an important natural resource for wildlife and humans alike. From here the river flows south through the villages Riverdale, Elm Hall and Sumner before turning sharply northeast into Alma and St. Louis. Unfortunately, during that time, the water becomes more and more polluted with human and animal waste. Fortunately, state and county officials are taking steps to ease the problem.

Season commences

Come warmer days

Sun climbs the sky

Burning off the haze

Trails begin to soften

Creatures begin to stir

Calendar is ready

Nature’s still not sure

Sap begins to rise

Robins begin to sing

Bursting of the bud

Glad tidings of spring

D. DeGraaf

March 23

On a cool cloudy morning, Caroline and I find our selves at the 51-acre, George F. Canyon Nature Center, near our southern California rental. One of our favorite hikes, we follow an earthen trail past large patches of Brittlebush while listening to the strange call of a wild Peacock, a common pet around here that often escapes its owners. Just ahead, I spot some Poison Oak leaves that have changed colors, which is odd since they normally change in autumn. Working our way through a native flower garden, I notice blossoms of Silver Lupine, Hairy Skullcap and Coast Goldenbush. Following the trail along a ravine, I spot large patches of Black Mustard above and horse tracks at my feet. Next to the trail, are lovely blossoms of Nasturtium as well as ornate leaves on the rosette of a Variegated Thistle. This invasive plant, also called Blessed Milk Thistle can produce tall, dense stands (stock photo) that outcompete native species. Despite the cloud layer, I’m pleased to face a diffuse sun as tomorrow it will cross the celestial equator to begin the astronomical spring season in the northern hemisphere. Nearby, common sights off the path include flowers of Arroyo Willow while on the path, leaves and berries of the Toyon tree. Continuing on the muddy trail, I come upon a Wild Cucumber vine in blossom. The vine emerges from a large, hard tuberous root that can weigh over 100 pounds (stock photo). In times past, Native Americans discovered that, because of certain toxins in the root, it could be submerged in rivers to stun and capture fish. Next one of these vines I see also displays spiny, golf-size fruit. Despite also being toxic, the fruit is sometimes eaten by ground squirrels. They harvest the green pulp and seeds (stock photo) by gnawing a groove around the "equator" of the fruit until it falls into halves. Near the trail’s end, we pause at a dry creek bed where I spot a blue-gray rock called Catalina Schist. Exposed exclusively here in the canyon, this 150 million-year-old metamorphic rock forms the geologic base of the entire Los Angeles basin. Finally, we turn around and enjoy a leisurely stroll back to the car.

Star of the earth

Light you portray

Sun of the heavens 

Warmth of the day

Source of all 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

On a warm, cloudy morning, I accompany Caroline and my daughter, Allison on a hike in Hanauma Bay Nature Preserve, a 50-acre tropical landscape on the southeastern shore of the Hawaiian island of Oahu. On a steep descent, I pause to hear a familiar Michigan sound of a Mourning Dove mixed with a sound of ocean surf below. Exploring a strip of vegetation away from the beach, I watch some active Asian Mongooses. These invasive mammals are native to India and were originally introduced to Hawai’i in 1883 by the sugar industry to control rats in sugarcane fields. While rodents make up a portion of the mongooses’ diet, they also prey heavily on native birds, insects, and other fauna. They have been blamed for the extinction of ground-nesting birds including 8 federally endangered Hawaiian species. Walking parallel to the beach, I spot a few colorful perching birds including: a Common Myna, a Red-crested Cardinal and a pair of Red-vented Bulbuls. Flowering trees that catch my eye include Plumeria and Hibiscus while on the ground I notice a Beach Morning Glory blossom. Also, on the ground, I watch a Zebra Dove probing the pine needles and a Golden Plover prancing toward the surf. Up ahead, I’m surprised to see several friendly feral cats roaming around, being managed and fed by park personnel. Next, an odd looking tree, called a Screwpine draws my attention. The edible leaves have a floral-like aroma and are used for making sandwich wraps and teas. About the size of a football, the fruit is studded with about 100 protruding segments called cones that start out with a green highlight on the bud that then turns to orange (stock photo). The cones are sweet and yield a juice that tastes like thick mango nectar. Investigating the sandy beach, I come upon a washed-up chunk of coral, a snail shell and a coconut husk. Given the geologic history of Hawaii, I’m not surprised to see outcrops of volcanic rock. After coming upon some tide pools, I pause to see clusters of pea-size Periwinkles clinging to the rock face. Turning around, I make my way back up the slope toward the car where I take one final look at this unique cove that was once a volcanic crater that flooded so now snorkelers and swimmers can explore its coral reef.

Mid March day

Find my way

A scenic lane

Hawaiian domain

Late winter season

Have a reason

To hike these trails

Where nature prevails

The waves appear

My ears to hear

Flowering trees

Eyes to please

D. DeGraaf

March 9

With sunny skies and temperatures in the mid 70’s, Caroline and I begin a midday hike in Hopkins Wilderness Park, an 11-acre natural oasis near our rental in the heart of densely populated Redondo Beach, California. This elevated landscape was used as a radar site during the early years of the cold war with Russia to detect incoming missiles. Subsequently, the federal government donated it to the city that developed it into a nature park. After passing a man-made pond, stocked with turtles and Koi, we follow a stone-covered trail along the perimeter where the vegetation reveals a solitary Poppy blossom as well as a 3-inch grasshopper of unknown species. Just ahead, a newly established restoration area displays blossoms of California Lilac, Mallow as well as a perching Cabbage White butterfly. As the trail slopes downward, we pass a Mountain Ash tree with clusters of orange berries. Turning southward, I come upon a Mourning Cloak butterfly perching on a tree branch. Since these butterflies feed primarily on sap and ripen fruit, they are rarely seen pollinating flowers. Looking more closely at this Lepidopteron, I note its wings are frayed from age. Not surprisingly, their life cycle, that includes a brief caterpillar phase (stock photo), also includes an adult phase that spans 10-11 months, the longest of any butterfly species. As I continue to watch, it repeatedly flies around and returns to the same tree branch. This male behavior, called “territoriality” is found as well in other butterfly species. Continuing southward, I pass a Hawthorn bush loaded with pink blossoms. Often seen in residential lawns, this one is likely an offspring of a parent shrub from the local neighborhood. A little further up the trail. I pause to gaze through the haze at the snow-capped peaks of the San Gabriel Mountains, 30 miles to the northeast. Looping back toward the trailhead, I notice the leaves of a young Sycamore tree with their unusual leaf-like stipules. Near the finish, I catch a glimpse of a Bushtit perching high in a leafless tree. Throughout the hike, I’ve watched several of these small birds flutter through the canopy making their short “chipping” calls. Finally, we reach the car for a short drive home.

Azure skies 

Miles from drear

March memories

There and here

Barren earth

Blossoms all year

March memories

There and here

Frozen lakes

Ocean near

March memories

There and here

D. DeGraaf

March 2

Shortly after daybreak, Caroline and I meet a small group of fellow whale watchers on an observation deck at the Point Vicente Interpretive Center, situated on a sheer cliff, 125 feet above the Pacific Ocean on the west coast of the Palos Verdes Peninsula. As part of the Gray Whale Census and Behavior Project, we join other volunteers of the American Cetacean Society weekly to identify and count marine mammals, with a focus on Eastern Pacific Gray whales (stock photo) that swim by here on their lengthy migration route. During the first 2 hours, we only manage to see two “porpoising” dolphins off shore while near the deck, a perching Allen’s Hummingbird and on the deck, a few friendly White Crowned Sparrows. While waiting for whales to show up, I exit the deck and approach a nearby Palm tree to observe a singing Savannah Sparrow as well as a Northern Mocking Bird. Following an earthen trail along the bluff, I first spot a foraging Desert Cottontail rabbit and then a Honeybee feeding on blossoms of California Lilac. Looking down at the rugged coastline, I notice a rock formation near shore occupied by some perching Cormorants. Close to the trails edge, I come upon several webs of funnel-weaver spiders, made visible by morning dewdrops condensing on their silken strands. Returning to the observation deck, I notice more spotters have joined Caroline and the rest of our group. Also, I check the white board that is updated daily for the many visitors who stop by to inquire about our sightings. Despite difficult viewing conditions due to an incoming marine layer of fog, we finally spot the “blows” and “backs” of a pair of gray whales heading north. As we continue to track them, one flukes. These amazing creatures have the longest known migration of any mammal. They travel 10,000-12,000 miles round trip every year between their winter calving lagoons in the warm waters of Mexico and their summer feeding grounds in the cold Arctic seas (Stock photo). Around noon as the sky clears and the temperature reaches 70 degrees, we bid farewell to the Tuesday morning team and head back to our winter home.

Eying the ocean

Scanning for clues

Spouts of air

Not many views

Whale of gray

Instinct your guide

Miles to swim

Calf along side

Gentle behemoth

Much to admire

Safely get home

My one desire

D. DeGraaf