Monday, December 27, 2021

December 27

Under mostly cloudy skies and temperatures in the upper 20’s, Riley and I begin an early morning hike on a snow-covered trail in the Forest Hill Nature Area, where I notice fresh deer and deer mouse tracks. Up ahead, I glance at the pinkish sunlit clouds above Mallard Marsh and overhead surrounding a gibbous moon. Passing through North Woods, I’m not surprised to see a leafless canopy and, given a recent windstorm, a large Ash tree that fell on the trail. Continuing through Succession Field, I spot more aged Goldenrod Bunch Galls than I’ve ever seen in all my years hiking here. Last summer, there must have been a lot more midge flies than usual to infect Goldenrod stems, forming the galls. Along the edge of South Woods, I glance at a row of White birch trees before scaring up an Eastern Cottontail rabbit that sprints out of sight. Following its tracks, I discover where it jumped about 6 ft. over the snow. These rabbits have been known to leap as far as 15 feet and run up to 18 mph. Approaching Willow Wallow, I can barely make out a female Goldfinch perched high on a leafless tree branch. Climbing to the top of Reflection Hill, I’m surrounded by patches of Little Bluestem grass that turn a lovely reddish color in the winter. Glancing eastward, I first spot a Crab apple tree where the only fruit remaining are above the reach of previously feeding deer and then ice-covered Grebe Pond. Following the trail south toward Brady Cemetery, I observe some fruit still hanging on including, Rose Hips and Wild Grape. Turning north into the Native Prairie, I immediately notice the familiar gait pattern of a coyote, called an overstep trot that leaves a line of straight and narrow tracks. This pattern means that the hind foot lands in the same spot as the front foot, creating an illusion that it was made by a two-legged creature which is a behavior practiced by coyotes to save energy and aid in survival. Domestic dogs don’t have to worry where their next meal comes from and don’t need to save energy, so they often walk sloppily with all four feet showing. Continuing north toward the car, I pause on the edge of Grebe Pond to watch recently installed flags flap in the breeze. Apparently these flags deter Geese from gathering to mess up the dock and shoreline with their scat.

 

No colored lights

On pines of green

No shiny tinsel

On spruce are seen

No carol music

Disturbs the peace

Only the wind

Call of the geese

No angels on high

No child is born

Nature awakes

Christmas morn

 

D. DeGraaf

Monday, December 20, 2021

December 20

The mid-morning weather is sunny with temperatures in the upper 30’s and a gusty east wind as Riley and I hike north through a broadleaf woodland in Montcalm County’s Camp Cutler, looking for two unexplored lakes. Soon, I pause and face eastward to recognize the rising sun as it nears its winter solstice and the astronomical start of the winter season here in the northern hemisphere. Moving ahead, the ground reveals a cluster of aged puff ball mushrooms with their dark central pores and dried leaf litter consisting mostly of oak, maple and aspen. Evidence of recent wildlife activity include a tree trunk shredded by a Pileated Woodpecker and another rubbed by the antlers of a whitetail buck. Approaching the first lake, I'm disappointed that thick underbrush and thin ice prevents me from accessing the shoreline for a good view. Unfortunately, the same is true of the second lake. Turning around and heading back, I spot the hairy, rope-like vine of Poison Ivy clinging to a tree truck as well as a deer skull.  Nearby, I notice a small depression on the forest floor next to a 5-ft mound of dirt. This landform is the result of a large tree falling over while uplifting its huge root ball. Identified as pit and mound topography by many, loggers refer to them as “cradle knolls”. The story is that they would use these natural depressions, or cradles, to curl up in and take a nap out of the eyesight of their bosses. Instead of heading back to the car, we turn east and make our way to the scout campground where I pause on a bridge to watch water from the North Branch of the Pine River flow southeast toward its confluence with the main branch, some 1.5 miles downstream. Observing a flagpole nearby gets me thinking again about the winter solstice with the sun being at its lowest altitude (about 11 degrees) and the casting shadows being the longest. It also gets me thinking about a math lesson on how to calculate the length of a shadow. First, I estimate the flagpole to be 20 ft high. Then, I imagine a right-triangle with the flagpole as the perpendicular side, the sun beam as another side (hypotenuse) that strike the ground at an angle of 11 degrees and the base side as the length of its shadow. (stock photo). So, dividing 20 ft by the tangent of 11 degrees (.194) gives a shadow length of about 103 ft. Since, I don’t have a tape measure, I pace along the shadow from the flagpole to confirm the results. Heading back to the car, Riley and I follow our lengthy shadows.

 

Earth slumbers

Noon draws nigh

Sun of the season

Low in the sky

Deep in December

First winter days

Sun of the season

Cooler your rays

Wildlife in waiting

Nature’s content

Sun of the season

Begin your ascent

 

D. DeGraaf

Monday, December 13, 2021

December 13

The noontime weather is mostly sunny with temperatures in the mid 20’s and a gentle west wind as Riley and I begin our hike at the 14-acre, Stearns Preserve in the village of Riverdale. With an inch of overnight snow covering the landscape, we head east on the Meijer bike trail that transects the preserve. Officially called the Fred Meijer Heartland Trail (stock photo), this 42-mile paved pathway stretches between Alma and Greenville passing through farmlands, forests and a half-dozen rural towns. From the bridge, I gaze south as the sun glistens off the flowing Pine River. Within the last few years, after the state declared this section of the river highly polluted with human-based E coli, a dedicated group of Riverdale citizens successfully updated septic tanks and drain fields to clean up the water. Continuing along the snowy trail, I spot tracks of the small American Red Squirrel (stock photo). Unlike other squirrels that store their winter food caches in multiple locations, this one creates a central stash called a midden (stock photo) which it defends with its life. Over the course of the fall, it ascends conifers and cuts green cones from treetops. After dropping them to the ground, they are collected and carried them off to the midden. With Riley leading the way, I notice his tracks and reflect on how they differ from a coyote that often hunts in this area. While dog prints are often staggered and wander all over, coyotes typically run or walk in a straight line, with each paw print almost directly in front of the next (stock photo). Regarding individual footprints, dog toe pads are bigger with less space between them while the coyote have a lot of space between the individual toes, and between the toes and the pad (stock photo). Turning around, we pass through a corridor of leaning Box Elder trees where I spot a feeding Hairy Woodpecker. Approaching the trailhead, I pause by a dense colony of horsetail. These tough evergreen stems were used to scour pots, pans, and floors during pioneer days, hence the common name, Scouring Rush. These plants are closely related to ferns and both were common during the Carboniferous period (280-345 million years ago), when tree-sized horsetails and ferns occurred. Present day coal deposits were formed in large part from the ancestral plants of today's horsetails and ferns.

 

On the edge of autumn

Snow clouds of gray

Who will survive?

Predator or prey

Hungry raptor

Scans the field below

Perhaps a bird or mouse

Waiting for one to show

Sudden swoop 

From a leafless tree

Missed the mark

One goes free

 

D. DeGraaf

Monday, December 6, 2021

December 6

Riley and I are hiking in Lumberjack Park where 4 inches of overnight snow transformed the stark landscape into a winter wonderland. Under mostly cloudy skies and mid-morning temperatures in the low 30’s, I plod north on a boardwalk over a frozen wetland.  Pausing on the bridge over Mud Creek, I look downstream as the slow-moving water makes its way to the Pine River. Along the shore, a patch of green catches my eyes. From here, it looks like some invasive water lettuce. Across the bridge, we follow the snow-covered trail where I spot some dead leaves still attached to trees including, American Beech and Red Oak. Not surprisingly, some Red Oak leaves are easily seen scattered on the ground. Arriving at the edge of the Pine River, I can barely see the river flowing right to left. This upper third of the river is wooded and fed by drainage from springs, lakes, and wetlands. While the bottom is sandy, the water is clear (well-filtered) and cool.  This section supports a small population of brown trout—an indicator of a good water quality. Working our way along the steep bank. we follow fresh deer tracks and pause at a favorite overlook. Nearby, I notice some green leaves including, Autumn Olive, American Bittersweet and an unknown fern. After crossing the Lumberjack Rd, bridge, I head east and pause to listen as the river passes over some rocks. Following the Campground Trail, I locate fresh squirrel tracks as well a disturbance of the ground where a squirrel was digging up of its cache of seeds and nuts. Squirrels are "scatter hoarders," which means pretty much what it sounds like — they hoard their food and scatter it in locations where they can easily access it. It was long believed that squirrels simply relied on their sense of smell to find their food. But while smell comes into it, research suggests that memory plays a much more crucial role. Squirrels' spatial memory helps them map out the territory around them to find their food. Under certain conditions — like when their nuts are buried under snow — a sense of smell won’t always be effective in finding them. So, it makes sense that squirrels could be relying on other cues. Occasionally, they pretend to bury nuts when other squirrels are watching — and then scurry off to a secret location to hide them. Squirrels selectively move more valuable seeds/nuts to sites in the open where predation risks are higher but pilferage risks [from other squirrels] are lower.

Early December

Mostly leafless trees

Nature at attention

Mother Earth at ease

Beside a frozen pond

No frogs with spotted skin

Atop the snowy grass

No spider webs to spin

Squirrels of woodlands

Prepare for winter’s blast

Storing their food

Autumn breathes her last

 

D. DeGraaf