April 25

I begin my morning nature hike alone in St Louis Michigan at the Emma Burnham Outdoor Center with temperatures in the low 50’s, mostly cloudy skies and a stiff west wind. Shortly after entering a dense, leafless forest of oak, maple and beech, I hear the distant call of a female Wood Duck as she takes off from one of the many vernal ponds. Soon thereafter, from a bare canopy, I hear the loud call of a Pileated Woodpecker and from the ground below, I see a tree stump that it had shredded earlier in searched for food. After walking over a thick layer of leaf litter, I come upon an oak tree with a large, 3-ft burl on its trunk. A burl is a collection of tree cells called callus tissue. Normally, this tissue is formed by a tree in response to a disease, insect or storm damage. As a burl grows, it incorporates the tree’s undeveloped buds that surround it and folds them into its expanding form. Although burls grow into weird shapes and sizes on trees that otherwise look normal, a burl itself is not diseased or contagious. Over the years, burl wood has become quite valuable for making unique furniture (stock photo). Up ahead, other subtle signs of the season include a few Trout Lily leaves on the ground and a Honeysuckle shrub beginning to leaf out. Nearby, I spot a patch of Wild Leeks. Also called ramps, these plants are one of the earliest wild edibles to emerge, and, for some, they're the holy grail of wild edibles. They're really a type of wild onion with a unique garlicky-onion flavor. Historically ramps were considered a spring tonic in the Appalachians. Early settlers looked forward to harvesting them after long, hungry winters, as it would have been one of the first vegetables they had eaten in months. Fungi that catch my attention include Oyster and Turkey Tail mushrooms. Looping back toward the car, I explore a small pond while noticing a perching male Redwing Blackbird establishing his nesting territory and the fuzzy nubs of a Pussy Willow. These soft silver tufts—as well as the plant itself—are named for their resemblance to tiny cats’ paws. These tufts actually are flower buds just before they bloom. The soft coating of hairs acts as insulation to protect these early bloomers from cold temperatures. On the eve of Earth Day, it seems fitting to observe through the trees a rotating wind turbine- a source of clean energy for our planet that reduces dependence on fossil fuels and resulting air pollution from their combustion.

 

Planet earth, child of the sun

You’re a very special one

Water to drink, air to breathe

Life abounds on land and sea

Some worlds, far too cold

Living things can’t take hold

Some worlds, way too hot

Does life exist? Probably not

Sphere of blue, sphere of white

Your place in space, just right

Mother Earth, this much is true

Human survival depends on you

 

D. DeGraaf

April 18

Sunny skies and temperatures in the lower 40’s greet Riley and me as we begin a morning hike on Lumberjack Park’s nature trail. Heading north, we take the boardwalk over a shallow wetland, accompanied by a welcome sign of spring, the familiar call of a Tufted Titmouse. Crossing the foot bridge over Mud Creek, I pause at mid-stream to watch the water flow gently west toward the Pine River while listening to a Robin. Following the trail through tall pines, I approach a large tree that had fallen to block our way. Upon a closer look, I notice meandering grooves in the cambium layer made by Ash Borer larvae that had killed the tree long before it blew down. Next, I come to the muddy shore of the Pine River and pause to watch the water flow gently past while listening to the clear birdsong of a Northern Cardinal. Following the sound to the treetops, I listen again. In most species, only the male sings. Not so for the talented Cardinal. Males and females sing equally well. These songs, an important coordinating behavior in the life of these birds, includes at least 28 different phrases. They sing during courtship and territory formation. In either context, while perched in different places, they countersing. One bird sings a phrase and the other responds, often with a repeat of the first one’s song. After a little while, the first bird changes the song and the other copies the new song. Cardinals’ call and response countersinging can continue for good parts of the day. Up ahead, I spot one of many patches of Common Greenshield Lichen growing on tree bark, being concerned that some display a pinkish hue rather than the normal green color (stock photo). Many lichen species, like this one, are sensitive to air pollution and develop structural changes, including reduced photosynthesis and bleaching. Air pollution can also cause the death of the lichen algae, discoloration and reduced growth of the lichen fungus, or kill a lichen completely. Nearby, I come to a favorite place on the riverbank where I stop to take in the beauty of this riparian landscape, Crossing the Lumberjack Rd. bridge, I make my way along the opposite riverbank where the morning sun glistens off the slow flowing water. Further along, we listen to the water surging downstream. After making our way through the campground, I pause one last time to look upstream at this colorless riverbank except for the colorful branches of a Red Osier Dogwood shrub.  

 

Nature trail stark

April breezy chill

Few signs of spring

Waiting for senses to fill

Atop a leafless tower

Against a grayish sky

Crested Cardinal sings

Lovely tune draws nigh

Robed in red

Loud and clear

Favorite season

Is finally here

 

D. DeGraaf

April 11

A gentle breeze, temperatures in the mid 40’s and overcast skies greet us for an afternoon hike in Alma’s Conservation Park. Heading west along a high bank of the Pine River, I can barely see a male Ring-necked duck swimming far off-shore. This duck’s common name refers to the hard-to-see chestnut collar on its black neck. While not a good field mark to use for identification, it was distinctive to nineteenth century biologists that described the species using dead specimens. Strong and fast fliers, these ducks can take flight by springing up directly from the water, without the take-off run of most diving ducks. This one is likely migrating from its winter-feeding grounds along the Gulf of Mexico or southern Atlantic coast to its summer breeding grounds in the upper Peninsula or Canada. Next, I pause to look at and listen to two harbingers of spring, a foraging Robin and a Sand Hill Crane flying overhead. Nearby, along the water’s edge, I come upon the feathers and flesh of an unknown bird, killed and consumed by a predator, perhaps an owl or fox. Turning inland away from the river, I watch a Black-capped Chickadee making a nest in a dead Ash tree trunk. Both males and females participate in cavity “excavation” which lasts 7 to 10 days. After completing about an 8-inch-deep cavity, the female makes a cup-like nest inside where she uses twigs for a strong foundation before lining it with softer materials like rabbit fur. Further ahead, I spot a patch of British Soldier lichens before stopping next to a small pond to hear a single Spring Peeper calling out. It won’t be long before this habitat will resound with a chorus of these tiny amphibians. Turning back toward the car, I listen to the song of an Eastern Phoebe making its presence known. This bird (stock photo) has return to its breeding territory after migrating from its wintering habitat in the southern latitudes of the United States and Mexico. After checking out the kiosk displays at the Eyer Learning Circle, I spot a subtle sign of spring; mottled maroon, hood-like leaves of Skunk Cabbage emerging from a shallow wetland. In a few weeks, these plants will carpet this area with huge, dark green cabbage-like leaves. Skunk Cabbage roots are toxic and the leaves impart a hot, peppery taste. Native Alaskans wrap-up fresh fish in Skunk Cabbage leaves and cook them on a bed of coals. The leaves keep the fish moist and give it a tangy flavor.

 

On the edge of April

Spring takes hold

Afternoon air

No longer freezing cold

New life emerges

Mother Nature’s pledge

From the forest floor

Green moss and sedge

From the cloudy skies

Falls a gentle rain

From the field afar

Calls a Sandhill Crane

 

D. DeGraaf

April 4

Under partly sunny skies and temperatures in the mid 60’s, we explore the 500 ft.-high hilltop park, called the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook, 10 miles west of downtown Los Angeles. This landmark is one of several dome-shaped hills running northwest to southeast along the coast (stock photo). Soon, I come upon a 1-inch, Desert Stink Beetle as it walks with its head down and then raises its rear end as a defense against my approach, thus its other name, “Headstand Beetle”. This posture happens as it discharges a foul-smelling secretion from the tip of the abdomen toward a would-be attacker. Also seen in skunks, this insect is also known as a Skunk Beetle. However, there is a field mouse predator that has learned to counter such attacks by holding the beetle's butt down to the ground while biting its head off. This beetle may burrow under the sand when intense sunlight overheats the ground and come out at night to look for food such as fungi, animal detritus, and plant matter. After pausing to watch a Red-tailed Hawk soar high above, I come upon a Mourning Dove gathering nesting material. While most birds spend several days, to as much as two weeks building a nest, a mating pair of doves can quickly throw together a loose platform of sticks in just a few hours. Their flimsy nests are made of pine needles, twigs and grass (stock photo). From this scenic overlook, I gaze through the haze at the Los Angeles skyline, 10 miles to the east. With a population of 4 million people, it’s the 2^nd largest city in the U.S. Further ahead, I spot lovely blossoms of Geranium and Bush Monkeyflower. The monkeyflower has an unusual adaptation to aid pollination. Before fertilization, the stigma is open, appearing like a white, lobed platter. When brushed by an insect the lobes fold together (stock photo). If pollen has been deposited, the stigma remains closed, securing the pollen, and initiating fertilization and seed development. Otherwise, it opens again. Other blossoms that catch my eye include, Beach Sun-cup and Mule Fat. The common name, mule fat, comes from the gold mining days when prospectors and cowboys would tie their mules to the shrub to browse. Native Americans had many uses for mule fat, including using the leaves as eyewash and to stop baldness. Some California tribes would use the stems as hand fire drill. Nearing the car, I notice a perching California Towhee and Anna’s Hummingbird. 

 

Was it flowery fields?

Or a craggy coast

Was it azure skies?

I remember most

Was it gullies green?

Or hills I climbed

Was it bird songs?

That stirred my mind

California memories

Loud and clear

Images of nature

I’m holding dear

 

D. DeGraaf