November 13

It’s a mostly sunny morning with temperatures in the low 40’s as I hike west on the paved Heartland bike trail near Montcalm County’s village of Vestaburg. On both sides of the trail, I see several Tag Alder shrubs, displaying their reddish male catkins and dark female cones. Nearby, I pause to examine a small, nearly dead, needle-less Red Pine tree with woody, tumor-like galls on some of its branches. Called Pine-pine gall rust, this disease is caused by a fungus that infects the vascular cambium and can kill young trees. Continuing west, I enter the northern section of the Vestaburg State Game Area, consisting of nearly 3000 acres of wetlands (stock photo). Amid the stark landscape, colors that catch my eye, include the pink, terminal twigs of Gray Dogwood and the red fruit of High Bush Cranberry. This fruit will soften and sweeten over winter to provide food for Cedar Waxwings and Robins. Up ahead, I come upon a dense patch of tall Phragmites with their feathery flowerheads, in the background mixed with a few cigar-shaped cattail flowerheads, in the foreground. Over the past few years, I’ve watched this patch of invasive reeds expand rapidly into the wetlands and overtake acres of native cattails. Along the way, I begin to see shrubbery having recently been cut down by Beavers. Up ahead, I come to the place where the water of a narrow Wolf Creek is supposed to flow freely under the bike trail, only to see that the beavers have built a dam of branches to block the flow and created an acre of flooded wetland. In addition, I notice they constructed a dome-shaped lodge just off the trail. Since the lodge can only be accessed by underwater entrances, it gives them protection from predators such as bobcats and coyotes. High above the flooded wetlands in a leafless tree, I spot a Mourning Dove (not Morning), named after its call that is often found to be sad or mournful. This call is generally referred to as the “perch coo”, sung by an unmated male on a perch. Surprising to me, this bird is hunted across much of the United States, 41 states in all. Thank goodness it’s protected in Michigan. It’s hard to imagine harvesting this bird for meat since an average adult weighs a mere 4.5 oz. Each breast fillet is about as long as a thumb and weighs one ounce or less before cooking. Turning around, I retrace my steps back toward the car, where I notice a decaying log displaying orate Turkey tail fungi and the paved path at my feet displaying a leaf litter of Maple, Oak, Aspen and Pine. 

Gone are the days when

Maples turned gold

Now is the time for

Winds to blow cold

Gone are the days when

White Asters bloom

Now is the time for

Gray clouds of gloom

Gone are the days when

Log turtles lie

Now is the time for

Juncos to fly

 

D. DeGraaf