September 21

With the morning temperatures in the upper 50’s under sunny skies, I pause on Wing Rd in Isabella County before entering the dense woodland on the south side of the 3.5-acre Cotton Family Preserve, a new property acquisition of the Chippewa Watershed Conservancy. In the distance, it is easy to make out a white sphere sticking out of the leaf litter. Recognizing it as a newly formed giant puffball, I approach and find that it measures about eight inches in diameter. Its firm exterior and uniformly white interior is characteristic of a young puffball. Although some people eat properly identified raw giant puffballs, experts recommend cooking them—and absolute identification is essential before tasting any wild mushroom. Following a game trail, I first spot a ¾-inch scarlet waxcap mushroom and then a five-inch golden scalycap mushroom, neither of which I would consider eating. Up ahead, I come upon a cluster of wild turkey feathers, most likely leftovers of some predation event. Continuing downslope, I pause to scan a half-acre pond covered with duckweed while hearing the call of a blue jay. Along the muddy shore, I notice some pink smartweed. The “smart” in smartweed comes from an old meaning of smart: to sting, burn, or cause sharp pain. Many smartweeds contain peppery, irritating sap that may produce a hot or burning sensation that “smarts”. Nearby, I observe blossoms of the extremely poisonous water hemlock. Swallowing even a small amount of plant tissue can result in nausea, confusion, muscle twitching, violent seizures and even death. Turning back toward the car, I notice the sheet web of a funnel weaver spider, made conspicuous by the morning dew. These arachnids (stock photo) are fast hunters. When an insect lands on the web, vibrations alert the spider, which rushes out, bites the prey, and drags it into the funnel. Looking up, I notice the upper surface of a sugar maple leaf with slender, fingerlike projections, called spindle galls. These growths are caused by microscopic mites that feed on young leaf tissue, prompting the plant to form  galls. Back to the car, I think about the many stories gathered in this small place. Fungi, feathers, webs and galls each record a different episode. With the autumnal equinox arriving soon, this preserve seems poised between seasons, as summer’s abundance begins to yield to autumn’s quieter rhythms. 

Takes leaves of green
Gives us leaves of red
Takes a meadow’s green
Gives us gold instead

Takes a red-wing’s song
Gives us a cricket’s call
Takes away the summer
Gives us another fall

Each change of season
Nature gives and takes
After her long slumber
Lady Autumn wakes

 

D. DeGraaf

September 14

Back in early August I began my exploration of Sugar Creek at its source in northern Gratiot County. After five previous encounters, I begin my final hike to reach its confluence with the Pine River, east of Alma. The early morning sky is mostly cloudy with temperatures in the upper 50’s as I make my way east toward the Pine River. Arriving at the river I look in vain for the creek’s outlet. After re-checking my map and compass, I proceed north about a hundred yards and pause to observe an impressive looking, forty-foot-wide mouth of Sugar Creek where surprisingly clear water flows slowly under a large over-hanging willow tree into a slow-moving Pine River. Exploring the bank, I come upon a colony of ground-nesting yellowjackets. They commonly use underground cavities including abandoned animal burrows, enlarging it to hold a paper nest (stock photo) that can contain hundreds of workers along with a single queen. Knowing how aggressive this species is, I keep my distance. When disturbed, they can attack and sting repeatedly. Unlike honeybees, yellowjackets do not leave their stinger behind so they may sting several times when defending their nest. Nearby, I spot a milkweed leaf displaying a pile of monarch caterpillar poop, called frass. Sometimes frass can help locate a hidden caterpillar. However, after looking over the plant, I am unable to find one. Further down the bank, near the water, I spot a couple of blossoms of nodding beggar-ticks. Seen in late summer, the flower heads often droop or “nod” downward which is part of it name. The other part of the name comes from the idea that their barbed seeds (stock photo) are “begging a ride” from any animal or human that brushes past. On another bank, I notice at least four places where fragments of leathery eggshells surround a hole where a turtle had laid and covered her eggs. The likely culprit is a raccoon, an effective nest predator who can detect freshly disturbed soil, the scent of the female turtle, or odors associated with the eggs. After digging into the nest, the critter eats the eggs leaving the shells behind.  Finally, with wet shoes and tired legs, I head back to the car, knowing that my month-long effort has been worthwhile. Exploring Sugar Creek has helped me see it’s not as a series of separate places, but one connected riparian ecosystem that supports a remarkable variety of life despite the pressures and pollution imposed upon it. Following its course has reminded me that even a small and often-overlooked stream has a story worth discovering—and a future worth protecting. 

Outer edge of summer

Nature has her way

Swallows gather above

Wish they could stay

Queen Anne’s Lace

Folds up its flowers

Meadow shines golden

Through daylight hours

Fungi emerge

And berries abound

Frogs of the marsh

Surrender their sound

 

D. DeGraaf

September 7

The midmorning skies are sunny, while the air is hot and very humid, with temperatures in the low 80s, as I make my way along the lush banks of Sugar Creek, getting closer to its confluence with the Pine River. Nearby, I spot a half-inch Goldenrod Soldier Beetle perched on a blossom of Canada Thistle. These insects contribute to pollination as they move from flower to flower. Their larvae (stock photo) are predators that live near the ground, feeding on small insects, insect eggs, and other soft-bodied prey. Up ahead, I come upon a one-inch Leaf-footed Bug resting in the tall grass. These insects feed by piercing stems, fruits, seeds, and other plant tissues and sucking out fluids. Neither adults nor nymphs (stock photo) normally bite or sting humans, although some can release an unpleasant odor when disturbed. Exploring the floodplain, I notice stems of Virginia Knotweed, also known as Jumpseed, displaying their reddish fruits. As the fruit matures, tension builds at the joint of the flower stalk. At the slightest touch, the fruit can be catapulted several feet from the stem—hence the common name “jumpseed. Continuing to follow the creek, I spot what appears to be a Great Blue Heron hunting near shore. As I carefully stalk the bird, hoping to get closer for a better photo, I realize it is simply an old tree branch. So much for my expertise at spotting wildlife. Moving away from the creek, my ears pick up the high-pitched whine of cicadas, while my eyes turn to the leaf litter, which consists mostly of Cottonwood leaves. Among them, I spot some bright red haws that have fallen from a nearby Hawthorn tree. Haws are an important food source for birds such as robins, cedar waxwings, and thrushes, as well as for some mammals. Down in the tall grass, I observe a few blossoms of Yellow Toadflax. Native to Europe and Asia, the plant is now common across much of North America, including Michigan. Its flowers have a long nectar spur, making larger bees (stock photo) especially effective pollinators. Its other common name, “butter-and-eggs,” comes from the flower’s two colors—the yellow “butter” surrounding its deeper orange-yellow “egg” center. As I make my way back to the car, I am struck by how much is happening at once. Summer flowers still bloom, insects remain busy, fruits are ripening, and fallen leaves are beginning to gather. Along Sugar Creek, the seasons do not change all at once. Instead, summer and autumn briefly share the landscape, each quietly making room for the other.

In golden fields

Crickets sing

In trembling Aspens

Chickadees cling

In native prairies

Bluestems grow

In vernal ponds

Water is low

Swallows gather

Migrations begin

Cycles of nature

Again and again

 

D. DeGraaf

August 31

The morning temperatures are in the mid-50s under sunny skies as I stand on the steep bank of Sugar Creek and look far to the west. The east branch (stock photo) of the creek flows beneath US 127, merges with the west branch, turns east toward me as the main branch, and then curves south toward Cheesman Road. Walking along the bank, once again a wide, well-developed buffer strip stands out as a good example of how streamside vegetation can help mitigate runoff from adjacent cropland. The grasses and other plants help trap sediment and nutrients before they reach the creek. Exploring the vegetation, I spot several yellow blossoms of Bird’s-foot Trefoil. The plant’s name comes from the way its slender seed pods spread from one point, forming a shape that resembles a bird’s foot (stock photo). Not everything is green. Bright red Virginia creeper leaves are scattered through the grass, another reminder that autumn is approaching. On the far bank, I notice an eight-inch opening to a Woodchuck burrow. A burrow may extend 15–30 feet or more underground and contain several chambers. Continuing south, I pause on the Cheesman Road bridge to notice the creek channel and watch the water flow quietly downstream. Next, I follow a path along the bank that takes me south and then east as the creek passes through a large culvert beneath Begole Road. Turning around, I notice a quarter-inch Spotted Cucumber beetle resting on a thistle blossom. Besides cucumbers, these insects feed on the leaves, flowers, and pollen of crops and wild plants. Their larvae (stock photo) live underground, feeding mainly on the roots of grasses and crops such as corn, which is why they are sometimes called corn rootworms. Nearby, I spot a three-quarter-inch Yellow-collared Scape moth resting on thistle seeds. Its name comes from the distinctive yellow band, or “collar,” just behind its dark head. Unlike many moths, this species is often active during the day. Its caterpillars (stock photo) feed on low-growing plants, especially grasses and sedges. Nearing the car, I listen to the sounds of cicadas. Males produce their calls with special vibrating structures in the abdomen to attract females. These insects are often called dog-day cicadas because their calls are such a familiar sound during the hottest part of summer. Nearby, I spot an adult Monarch butterfly resting among the creek-side grasses—perhaps one of the late-summer generation preparing for the long migration to Mexico. Reaching the car, I am reminded that late summer is a season of overlap. Blossoms remain, insects are active, and the banks are still green, yet red leaves, cool mornings, and a migrating monarch quietly point toward the season to come.

Wildlife wonders

Geese in a flock

Turtles on logs

Lichens on rock

Chicory blue

Aster white

Perching crows

Black as night

Meadow aroma

White sweet clover

Celebrating nature

Summer’s not over

 

D. DeGraaf

August 24

The early morning skies are overcast with temperatures in the low 60’s and a slight SW breeze as I continue my quest to explore Gratiot County’s Sugar Creek from source to mouth. Today, I start out by watching its water flow slowly under M-46 near Petticoat Junction and head south toward the Pine River confluence. This watercourse probably got its name because sugar maples—and perhaps maple-sugaring camps or “sugar bushes”—were common in the area. Also, this part of mid-Michigan is where early settlers encountered extensive hardwood forests and maple sugaring was already practiced by Native peoples long before European settlement. Right away, I realize the creek is part of the county drain system cutting through acres of ripening soybeans. Walking along its banks, I’m pleased to observe a very wide buffer strip containing a variety of wildlife, including this well- camouflaged Red-legged grasshopper. Blossoms that catch my eye include yellow Flat- topped Goldenrod and pale purple Field Mint whose leaves smell strongly of mint when crushed because they contain menthol-related compounds. Continuing to walk through the buffer strip, I spot a large patch of Queen Anne’s Lace. So, I stop, open up the folded umbels of one of the flowers to reveal a dotted, ½ inch Carrot Seed Moth caterpillar. These invasive caterpillars feed on developing flowers and seeds rather the leaves. Other plants they feed on, include parsley, dill, fennel, and parsnip. Continuing south along the steep bank, I watch the creek water trickle downstream while listening to a chorus of katydids. A little further, I gaze afar where the creek flows under the busy US 127 interstate highway. Turning around, I come upon a bunch gall on top of a Canadian Goldenrod stem. A gall forms when a tiny fly, midge or mite interferes with normal plant growth. Instead of producing a normal flower cluster, the leaves and buds become crowded into a tight rosette. Galls usually don’t seriously harm the plant as it often continues growing and flowering normally on other stems. Heading back to the car, I’m reminded that this small stream winds through a landscape heavily influenced by people. Still, there is plenty of wildness here. Grasshoppers leap, caterpillars hide and goldenrod spread their yellow blossoms quietly announces the approaching change of seasons. Sugar Creek may flow through farm country and within earshot of traffic, but along its lush green banks, nature continues to find room to flourish.

Nature's saga

Milkweed leaf

Tiny white egg

Stage is brief

Caterpillar's born

Yellow & black

Chrysalis next

No turning back

Orange emerges

Wings will dry

Monarch of summer

Ready to fly

 

D. DeGraaf

August 17

 

The early morning temperatures are in the low 60’s under overcast skies as I set out for a nature walk on the paved Cedar Creek trail near my daughter’s house in Sherwood, Oregon. Right away, I notice how peaceful my surroundings are, with a densely populated neighborhood waking up on one side of the trail and a protected riparian landscape for wildlife on the other. From the trail, I can see a pond covered with a thick mat of aquatic weeds; however, the slow trickle of creek water at the bottom of a steep ravine is well hidden by dense vegetation. Looking skyward, I get a quick glimpse of a Steller’s Jay (stock photo) and a few Black-capped Chickadees fluttering through a thicket. Some of the plants along the way are unfamiliar compared with those I regularly encounter in Michigan. One of the most impressive is a Bigleaf Maple tree. Its enormous leaves immediately catch my attention, and the paired samaras help confirm its identity. Closer to eye level, there are other unfamiliar species that catch my attention, including the bright white fruit of a Snowberry shrub and the bright red hips of Nootka rose that both stand out against green foliage. Also, I spot the pink blossoms of Fireweed, a plant often found on recently burned or disturbed ground—hence its name. Familiar Queen Anne’s Lace appears along the trail, and inside a folded umbel, I discover a tiny Asian Lady Beetle. This insect was introduced from Asia to North America to help control aphids and other crop pests. Turning around and heading back through this corridor of lush green vegetation, I come upon a familiar sight- a bumblebee feeding on blossoms of St. John’s wort. The plant name comes from its traditional association with St. John the Baptist. The plant often begins flowering around June 24, the Feast of St. John the Baptist in Europe. Near the end, I come upon an unfamiliar sight- vines of Himalayan blackberries. Despite the name, they’re not from the Himalayas, but from western Europe and were introduced to North America in the late 1800s. In Oregon and much of the Pacific Northwest, this plant is considered highly invasive, even though its berries are delicious and valuable to wildlife. Pausing at the trailhead, I realize that walking in a new landscape like this changes the way I look at nature. I couldn’t rely entirely on familiarity today. Instead, I had to stop, photograph, question, and look more closely. Perhaps that is one of the pleasures of exploring somewhere new: for a few hours, even an ordinary trail can make me a beginner again.

A hike to wonder, pause, and see
Quiet trail before my eyes
A perching bird, a buzzing bee
Waking earth and morning skies

Mother Nature’s handiwork
Unfamiliar shrubs and trees
Pink blossoms and white berries
Soft needles and giant leaves

Path through a corridor of green
No creek to cross, no hill to climb
My senses open to it all
Slow my steps and take my time

 

D. DeGraaf

Early morning skies are overcast with temperatures in the upper 60’s and a slight southerly breeze as I stand on Madison Rd. and look north at a portion of Sugar Creek whose channel had been straightened and incorporated into the county drain system to prevent flooding of cropland. The first thing I notice is how narrow the strip of vegetation is between the creek ditch and the cropland. Wider ones capture more runoff, remove more nutrients, reduce flooding impacts, and support a greater diversity of wildlife. Nearby, I spot a female Clouded Sulfur butterfly perched on a blade of grass. While females have paler yellow wings with lighter spotting, males are bright lemon-yellow with a bold black border around their wings (stock photo).. Up ahead, I come upon a large patch of Chicory blossoms. These blue flowers usually open shortly after sunrise and often close by early afternoon, especially on hot, sunny days. On overcast days like today, they may remain open longer. Before getting back in the car, I pause below a powerline to listen to the lovely song of an Indigo Bunting. Driving a short distance south on Begole Rd., I enter private property to observe the slow moving creek and listen to the continual high-pitch chorus of Katydids. At my feet, I watch what I thought was tiny white moth landing in the underbrush. Upon a closer look, I realize it’s a ¼ inch Flatid Planthopper, a species I’ve never seen before. These tiny insects feed on plant sap using piercing mouthparts, much like aphids and leafhoppers. Their nymphs produce fluffy white wax, making them look like little cottony tufts (stock photo). Overhead, I notice the ripening fruit on a Mulberry tree. More than 40 species of birds—including Robins, Catbirds, Waxwings and Baltimore Orioles—eat mulberries. Mammals such as raccoons, squirrels, foxes, and opossums also enjoy the fruit. For humans, ripe mulberries can be eaten fresh or used in pies, jams, and wines. From here, I drive a short distance south to observe the creek as it slowly flows along the eastside of the parking lot of the Petticoat Junction restaurant. Right away, I spot a drain pipe entering the ditch from the restaurant area, making me wonder about quality of the runoff water. On the opposite bank, I’m surprised to see a small feed lot occupied by a few cows and wonder what happens to their manure.. Finally, I watch the creek water as it passes under M-46 and heads south and east becoming another county drain. Back at my car, I’m reminded that even small creeks deserve our curiosity, our respect, and our care. Every visit deepens my appreciation for this overlooked watercourse. I’m already wondering what discoveries Sugar Creek will offer the next time.

Watercourse

Hidden from view

Gathering runoff

Toxic stew

Polluted water

Human curse

Downstream

Getting worse

Creek’s mouth

End of the line

Merging and mixing

With the River Pine

D. DeGraaf 

August 3

The early morning air is still with temperatures in the low 70’s under partly sunny skies as I stand on Grafton Rd, in northern Gratiot County listening to the “chips” of several Redwing Blackbirds and one Catbird while looking east at a drainage ditch choked with lush vegetation that hides a small stream of water that is the source of the east branch of Sugar Creek. For the next few weeks, I plan to follow first the east branch, then the west branch and then the main branch as empties into the Pine River, east of Alma. Turning around on the road and looking west, I do see some creek water flowing ever so slowly downstream. Tracing the channel along a steep bank it was rare to see any open water. Up in a mixture of green foliage, I spot the remains of a silky web constructed by Fall Webworms. Unlike Eastern Tent caterpillars, which construct their tents in branch crotches during spring, these caterpillars (stock photo) spin these webs around the ends of branches enclosing both leaves and the caterpillars as they feed. Up ahead, I notice several blossoms of Sow Thistle. When a stem or leaf of this plant is broken, it releases a white, milky latex (stock photo). The name "sow thistle" comes from the old belief that feeding the plant to sows (female pigs) increased their milk production. Veering away from the creek, I enjoy the distinctive song of a Yellowthroat while down in the underbrush, I can barely make out a 2-inch Carolina Grasshopper. Although it's superbly camouflaged when resting, it reveals striking black hindwings when it takes flight. The sudden flash can startle predators before the insect disappears into the grass again. Reaching Jefferson Rd, I notice the water of Sugar creek flowing slowly underneath. From here, I scan the landscape to observe three species of plants with a lot in common. First, on the steep bank, I see a stand of Purple Loosestrife. On the far bank, I spot some Common Teasel and beside me some Spotted Knapweed. Beside their attractive pinkish blossoms, all three are nonnative, invasive species from Europe that are known to crowd out native species and damage habitats. On the other hand, their blossoms are rich in nectar and attract a wide variety of pollinators. So are these invasives villains or do they contribute to the wellbeing of this riparian ecosystem. Nature is rarely black and white. Driving home, I realize the calendar may say August but nature is already preparing for what comes next. Every one of my hikes offers more signs of this slow transition from season to season and I'm grateful to be a witness these changes. 

Manure that smells

Lagoons that leak

Onward you flow

Sugar Creek

Banks that erode

Waters that reek

Onward you flow

Sugar Creek

Healthy watercourse

Is what we seek

Onward you flow

Sugar Creek

D. DeGraaf

July 27

The midmorning skies are mostly sunny with temperatures pushing 80 degrees and a noticeable breeze from the west as I find myself at the Chippewa Watershed Conservancy’s Lake Steven Preserve. This 1-acre parcel is on the west shore of 25-acre Lake Steven, located in Montcalm County. Entering the first section, a small meadow, my eyes follow a small butterfly as it lands in the undergrowth. Getting closer, I see it’s a black and orange Pearl Crescent, opening its wings. This butterfly gets its name from a tiny, pale, crescent-shaped mark on the underside of its hindwing. (stock photo). Not too far away, I track a small moth as it lands.  Getting closer, I see a moth that I’ve never seen before, a 1-inch V-shaped Angel Shade moth. This one is famous for its remarkable camouflage. With its wings folded, it resembles a dried, curled leaf (stock photo). Next, I enter a wooded section of the preserve consisting of mature maples, hickory and white birch. Along the way, my attention is drawn to a tiny, 1/8 inch juvenile Harvestman scavenging, smelling, and feeling its way around a leaf with its elongated appendages.  Juvenile Harvestmen resemble miniature versions of the adults rather than going through a caterpillar- or larva-like stage. Nearby, on the frond of a Sensitive fern, I observe two Craneflies joined end-to-end while mating.  These adults live only a few days. After mating the male dies immediately while the female will die shortly after depositing her eggs. On the ground, I notice decaying birch bark filled with orderly holes once drilled by a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker (stock photo) to feed on tree sap. Reaching the shore of Lake Steven, I look around to see a body of water choked with Lily pads as well as 3 perching Great Blue Herons searching for a meal. Their eyes are specially adapted for hunting in bright sunlight and around water. They can accurately judge the position of prey even through the distortion caused by the water's surface. Down at my feet, I notice an old 5-inch empty shell of a Painted Turtle. When alive, these reptile’s neck and legs are decorated with vivid yellow and red stripes, giving them their "painted" appearance (stock photo). Returning to the car, I realize this experience has offered far more than a list of species to record. I’m reminded once again that nature doesn't demand my attention with grand spectacles during every hike. Instead, it quietly rewards me for slowing down, looking a little closer, and remaining curious. It provides small gifts that transform an ordinary summer afternoon into something memorable. 

Peaceful forest

A motor ran

Sounds of nature

Sounds of man

Scent of Milkweed

Trash in the can

Smells of nature

Smells of man

Cardinal flower

A beat up van

Sights of nature

Sights of man

 

D. DeGraaf

July 20

The early morning skies are sunny with temperatures in the mid 70’s and a refreshing breeze at my back as begin my annual monitoring hike of a 37-acre conservation easement east of Alma under the jurisdiction of the Chippewa Watershed Conservancy. Soon, I come upon a ¼ inch Flea beetle resting on the receptacle of an Oxeye Daisy. These insects have enlarged hind legs that allow them to leap like fleas when disturbed. Up ahead, I pause by one of the many ponds on the property where the breeze sways a stand of Reed Canary grass while a few Redwing Blackbirds make their “check” calls upon my presents. Nearby, I spot a 1-inch Cherry-faced Meadow-hawk dragonfly perched on a blade of grass. Both the aquatic nymphs and the flying adults are voracious predators. Throughout their life cycle, these dragonflies consumes large numbers of mosquitoes and other nuisance insects, making them beneficial to people and ecosystems alike. Up ahead, I pause to observe a 1-inch female Eastern Forktail damselfly clinging to a stem. Unlike the bright blue-and-green males (stock photo), a female like this one displays a blend of colors. After mating, the male often remains attached to the female in the characteristic "tandem" position (stock photo) while she deposits eggs. This behavior helps prevent rival males from mating with her before egg-laying is complete. Looking down, my eyes are drawn to a 1-inch Familiar Bluet damselfly. Adults feed on tiny flying insects such as mosquitoes, midges, and gnats. Females lay eggs in aquatic vegetation, where the aquatic nymph (stock photo) develops before emerging as an adult. Next, I come upon the tiny nymph of a Red-legged Grasshopper perched on a Milkweed leaf. Nymphs pass through five or six molts, shedding their exoskeleton as they grow. Adults (stock photo) developed wings allowing them to fly and disperse. On the ground, I notice the purple bell flowers of Hairy Vetch. This plant is native to Europe and western Asia but has become widespread across North America. Farmers often plant it as a cover crop because it fixes nitrogen in the soil, improving fertility. Turning back toward the car, I gaze up at a blue sky while listening to the melodious song of a seldom-seen Warbling Vireo (stock photo). By the time I get to the car, I realize that this walk was much more than identifying flowers and insects. It is a reminder that every stage of summer has its own story—from fresh blossoms to birdsongs, from young grasshoppers beginning life to dragonflies patrolling the wetlands. On mornings like this, all I have to do is follow the trail, slow my pace, and let nature reveal another chapter of its ever-changing season.

In the depths of summer

Senses reach their peak

Taste of a milkweed pod

Sound of a flowing creek

From the forest glade

Smell of a Yarrow leaf

Touch of a thistle thorn

Glimpse of a finch is brief

Nature in her prime

Sources all around

From the clear blue sky

To the verdant ground

 

D. DeGraaf

July 13

With temperatures in the mid 70’s under sunny skies and a welcomed westerly breeze, I begin my annual monitoring hike on a 25-acre conservation easement, east of Alma owned by the Chippewa Watershed Conservancy.  Right away, my attention is drawn afar to two Sandhill Cranes, a parents and a colt striding through the meadow foraging for grains, seeds and berries as well as insects, earthworms and frogs. Next, I watch a moth land in the lush grass. Upon closer inspection, I determine it’s a 1-inch Chickweed Geometer. Its common name comes from one of its favorite host plants, Chickweed (stock photo). Further along, I watch a butterfly as it lands and perches in tall grass. Getting closer, I see it’s a Common Wood-Nymph. The circular "eyes" on the wings may startle birds or divert attacks away from the butterfly's body. Veering off the trail and proceeding across a large meadow, I first spot blossoms of Swamp Milkweed and then a 1-inch Calico Pennant dragonfly perched on a seed head. As an excellent aerial hunter, it can capture mosquitoes and tiny flies entirely in flight. Nearby, I come upon a male 1 ½-inch Ruby Meadow Hawk dragonfly. Males become increasingly red as they mature while females are much less conspicuous, usually yellowish-brown instead (stock photo). Continuing to explore the meadow, I observe a 1-inch Delaware Skipper Butterfly perched on a dead flowerhead. This species was first described from specimens collected near the Delaware River, which is how it got its common name. However, it’s not found in Delaware at all but found across much of the eastern and central United States. Hiking east, I come upon a large Milkweed colony comprised of at least 100 healthy plants. This area turns out to be one of the most biologically active places here. It provides nectar for butterflies and dozens of native bee species as well as food for Red Milkweed Beetles. Milkweeds produce sticky latex sap loaded with toxins. This beetle has evolved to tolerate these chemicals and store some of them in its body, making it distasteful to many predators. Birds often learn to avoid insects with these bold color patterns. As I head back to the car, I find myself appreciating not just the individual discoveries but the way they blend into one memorable hike. Observing flowers, insects, grasses and Sand Hill Cranes, reminds me that nature rarely relies on a single grand spectacle. Instead, it quietly gathers many small moments that reward anyone willing to walk slowly, look closely, and let the landscape tell its own story.

 

Height of summer

Nature at her best

Pollinators aplenty

No time to rest

Beetles on blossoms

Monarchs on Milkweeds

Swallowtails on Daisies

Beside the cattail reeds

Finding flowers

Dragonflies perch

Seeking nectar

Bees on a search

 

D. DeGraaf

July 6

The early morning air is hot and muggy with temperatures already in the low 80’s under partly sunny skies and a welcomed southerly breeze, as I find myself on 70-acres of St. Louis School property off Jackson Rd. Established years ago as an over-night camp (Camp Monroe) for disabled students from the GIRESD, it changed to a day camp before closing all together. Noticing a few abandoned buildings nearby, I begin my hike hearing a Field cricket on a groomed trail designated as part of a cross-country racecourse for the school district. Right away, I hear the melodious song of a Rose-breasted Grossbeak perched high in a tree above me.. However, I cannot get a good photo of this colorful bird (stock photo). Along the trail I come upon a large Staghorn Sumac shrub displaying the greenish-tan flower clusters of a male plant. While these flowers will shrivel up and disappear, flowers from a female plant will develop into bright red fruit heads by late summer (stock photo). Scanning the lush vegetation next to the trail, I spot a 2-inch Widow Skimmer Dragonfly. Early naturalists thought their contrasting white and black wing markings resembled the black-and-white mourning clothes worn by widows in Europe during the 18th and 19th centuries, leading to the common name Widow Skimmer. Up ahead, I come upon a Black Walnut tree with its characteristic compound leaves and a single, 1-inch, immature nut. In early summer, it is common for some walnuts to stop developing and fall off due to a natural fruit thinning process. The tree "decides" which nuts it has enough energy to mature and sheds the extras. Turning back toward the car, I’m amazed to see a 12-inch diameter Giant Puffball Mushroom. While it takes about 2 weeks of growth to reach this size, it can expand suddenly overnight after a series of rainy days. Based on its color and texture, this puffball is quite edible especially upon slicing and sautéing it. Approaching the car, I look down in short grass and spot a few blossoms of Heal-All. For centuries this plant has been used to cure or aid the symptoms of almost every possible malady. Common folklore held that it was an herb sent by God to heal any ailment of man or animal. Driving toward home, I feel grateful for completing another nature hike. It reminds me that wonder doesn't fade with a new encounter.  Each walk becomes another quiet lesson that the richest experiences aren't measured by how far from home I travel, but by how fully I notice the remarkable world that has been waiting beside the path all along.

Nature in rhythm

July days ahead

Summer sky blue

Raspberries red

Creatures are born

Consume and grow

Vultures fly high

Frogs lie low

Vernal ponds full

Up to the brim

Neath the surface

Tadpoles swim

 

D. DeGraaf

June 29

On this summer solstice morning, the skies are sunny with temperatures in the low 60’s, as a long-time friend, Jeff Reynolds, our dog Riley and I start hiking through a dense cedar swamp in the Little Sand Bay Nature Preserve on Beaver Island. Reaching the lakeshore, Jeff spots a 1-inch Monarch caterpillar feeding on a Milkweed leaf. About 2-3 weeks from now, it will grow, transform into a sexually active adult butterfly (stock photo) and live 2-6 weeks as part of the summer generation. Although this adult is unlikely to leave the island, its great-grand offspring probably will exit in late August or early September and fly 2000 miles to Mexico, completing one of the most extraordinary migrations in the insect world Continuing along the beach, I notice the shadows cast by Jeff and Riley are the shortest they will be for the next 12 months as the sun reaches its greatest elevation today. Up ahead, I notice some yellow blossoms of Lake Huron Tansy, a rare, fragrant perennial native to Beaver Island. Because of its sensitivity to harsh environments, invasive species, and heavy foot traffic, this species is highly protected. Nearby, I come upon a patch of orangish-colored plants called Indian Paintbrush. These plants cannot survive entirely on their own. They are hemi-parasitic, with their roots producing specialized tubes (stock photo) that tap into neighboring host plant to steal water and vital nutrients. Exploring the back dune, I look down in dense grass where I see a 1½ -inch Northern Crescent Butterfly. Those crescent caterpillars (stock photo) that hatch late in the season hibernate over winter and awaken in the spring to finish feeding. Nearby, I spot a 1½-inch Little Wood-Satyr butterfly resting on a Wild Sarsaparilla leaf.  The small circular eyespots on its wings are there for defensive purposes. They can startle birds or misdirect attacks toward the wing edges instead of the butterfly's head or body, increasing its chance of escaping. These butterflies are not frequent flower visitors. Instead, they feed on tree sap, overripe fruit, fungi, and animal droppings, where they obtain minerals and nutrients that nectar alone doesn't provide. Heading back to the car, I pause to watch a ¼-inch Sweat Bee feeding on a Goat’s Beard blossom. Reaching the trailhead, I realize this morning has given me far more than exercise. Each blossom, butterfly and landscape has become part of a story that could only be written on this particular day. That's the gift Beaver Island offers so generously—it reminds me that nature is never the same twice and that's exactly why I keep returning.

Orb of the heavens

Solstice of June

High in the sky

Long before noon

Shadows are short

Daylight is long

Up in a Maple

A Vireo’s song

Lushness of green

Covers the land

Nature’s crescendo

Summer’s at hand

 

D. DeGraaf

June 22

Under partly cloudy skies, a gusty wind off Lake Michigan and temperatures in the low 60’s, my dog Riley and I leave our rental house on the west side of Beaver Island and I begin our morning hike. Right away, I spot several large vernal pools teeming with thousands of ½ inch American Toad tadpoles. Most of these baby amphibians will be eaten by aquatic insects, fish, salamanders, birds, snakes, and mammals. Others will die from diseases or when vernal pools dry up or overheat. Ultimately, well under 1% of the original tadpoles will reach breeding age as adults (stock photo). Walking along the beach, I’m surrounded by swarms of ½ -inch Midge flies. These clouds of non-biting insects are mating swarms where males gather and dance in the air before females enter. After mating, females return to the water to lay eggs. Adult flies (stock photo) usually live only a few days. Most do not feed at all as their primary purpose is reproduction. Up ahead, I pause to watch five Eastern Swallowtail Butterflies perch on the sand close to each other while fluttering their wings or taking short flights. Called Puddling, males use their proboscises to sip moisture from wet sand, mud, animal tracks, decaying vegetation, or even areas enriched by bird droppings. The water provides sodium and other minerals that are scarce in nectar. Working my way down the beach, I can’t help but notice a variety of large boulders scattered about. Called glacial erratics, these rocks were carried south by glaciers from the ancient Canadian Shield during the last Ice Age. First, I spot a metamorphic rock called Banded Gneiss, then a sedimentary rock call Tufa Limestone and finally, out in the water, I see an igneous rock called Red Granite. Arriving at my destination, called McCauley Point, I pause to honor the life of a dear friend who passed a few years ago and whose ashes are scattered nearby. While scanning the landscape, I spot High Island, 12 miles due west. This 3466 acre land mass is uninhabited and surrounded by sandy beaches, dunes and dense forests. This island was famously home to a "Kingdom of David" Mormon colony in the 1850's and later an extensive King Strang associated settlement, followed by an Israelite House of David agricultural community in the early 1900's. Turning around to retrace my steps, I observe some yellow blossoms, including Hoary Puccoon, Silver Weed and Stonecrop. Nearby, I see both a 16-inch Garter snake barely visible in the tall grass and a Killdeer standing near the water’s edge. Back at the rental house, I pause to reflect on another nature hike. For me, I feel less like a visitor and more like a small part of a much larger story—one that has been unfolding on Beaver Island for thousands of years and will continue long after my footprints have disappeared from the sand.

 

Sandy path along a beach

Butterflies within my reach

Lake water’s cool and clear

Breaking waves I mostly hear

Cirrus clouds, a rising sun

Up ahead, Sandpipers run

Back dune, sedges & ferns

Overhead, gulls & terns

Just another quarter mile

Barefoot on Beaver Isle

 

D. DeGraaf

June 15

The early morning humidity is high under partly sunny skies and temperatures in the upper 60’s as I leave the car to start my hike at Stearns Preserve, a 15-acre parcel in Gratiot County’s village of Riverdale owned by the Chippewa Watershed Conservancy. Exploring the 1-acre meadow on the west boundary, I spot a 1-inch Common Ringlet Butterfly perched on a thistle leaf displaying its grayish underside wing pattern. An orange color and eye spot is revealed with the wings open (stock photo). After about 2 months as caterpillars (stock photo), adult butterflies emerge. Up ahead, I come upon a 1-inch frothy, white glob attached to a thistle stem. This substance is created by immature nymphs (stock photo) blowing air through their waste as they feed on plant sap. In mid-to-late summer, these nymphs mature into winged "froghoppers" (stock photo). Continuing to explore the meadow, I notice large patches of Field Club Moss dotted with white blossoms of Cranesbill (stock photo). Resembling miniature, evergreen conifer trees club mosses are extremely slow-growing and were historically over-harvested for holiday wreaths. Currently, all clubmoss species are legally protected in the state of Michigan. Proceeding east on the Meijer bike trail that bisects the preserve, I notice a tiny yellow blossom of Greater Celandine, a plant that I’ve never seen before. A perennial species in the poppy family, it’s known for its thick, bright yellow-to-orange milky sap- a latex-like fluid that oozes from broken stems, leaves, and roots. While historically used in folk medicine, it is highly toxic and can cause severe skin irritation, blistering, and corneal damage if it comes into contact with the eyes. Ingestion can cause severe gastrointestinal distress, nausea, and vomiting. Up ahead, I spot one of my favorite harbingers of summer-an Ebony Jewelwing Damselfly fluttering by and landing on a Honeysuckle leaf. While the adult is very attractive, the nymph is not so much (stock photo). Turning around at the boundary marker, I head back and pause at, once was a railroad bridge, to watch the water of the Pine River flow south toward Elm Hall, then Sumner before turning toward Alma. Near the car, I spot a 1-inch black Ichneumon Wasp perched on the underside of a Milkweed leaf. As parasitoids, females track down the larvae of wood wasps, beetles, and caterpillars, injecting their eggs directly into the host. When the larvae hatch, they slowly consume the pest host, eventually killing it. As I complete my walk and return to the car, I am grateful for preserves like this. Whether from an asphalt or earthen trail, nature is on display to those willing to slow down, observe and appreciate her handiwork.

A speeding car

Or Killdeer afar

Coo of a dove

Or airplane above

Buzz of bees

Or blower of leaves

Passing cloud

Or yelling loud

Babbling stream

Or sirens scream

Nature’s path of peace

Human noises cease

 

D. DeGraaf

June 8

Under sunny skies and morning temperatures in the low 60’s, I’m at Forest Hill Nature Area walking out on a dock to observe Grebe Pond. Kneeling down, I notice a 1/2 inch, Six-spotted Fishing Spider standing on the water surface, supported by surface tension. These spiders are impressive hunters. They can: Run across the water surface. Detect vibrations from struggling insects and tadpoles. Dive underwater when threatened. Also in this photo there’s a small insect on the water just below the spider, the sort of prey a fishing spider would be watching for. Continuing to examine the weedy pond surface, I notice a mix of Duckweed, Watermeal and Common Bladderwort. While being familiar with Duckweed and Watermeal, I’m not so familiar with Bladderwort which is a native, free-floating, carnivorous aquatic plant. It is completely rootless and features finely divided, submerged leaves lined with tiny, vacuum-sealed bladders that snap open to trap and digest microscopic aquatic insects. Its namesake "bladders" are tiny, modified leaves (stock photo) that act as vacuum traps. When a tiny organism brushes against the hair triggers, the trap springs open—faster than a camera flash—sucking the prey inside to be digested. Back on land, I’m pleased to begin a hike alongside Erika Kemler, the current director and very successful leader of this 90-acre outdoor education center. Walking north on a groomed trail, we take in the sounds of a variety of birds as well as sights of yellow and orange blossoms of Hawkweed. Scanning the meadow nearby, we spot a Tree Swallow perched on a Bluebird box. Swallows arrive in spring about the same time Blue birds do. Unfortunately, they often claim an empty nest box before bluebirds do or chase them away from a chosen box. Entering North Woods we follow an earthen trail through dense stands of Beech, Maple and Oak. Exiting the woods and making our way along the west boundary, we notice a Cottontail Rabbit as well as some yellow blossoms of Barren Strawberry, a plant I’ve never seen before. Continuing through lush South Woods, our ears perk up to a variety of birdsongs, especially the trilly and rattly song of a House Wren. Making our way back to the parking area, Erika and I reflect on the variety of wildlife we found on our hike. The Nature Area offered no dramatic spectacles today, yet the birds, blossoms, pond plants, a spider and rabbit combined to create something equally rewarding—a quiet reminder that nature's greatest gifts are often found in ordinary moments.

Morning in June

Edge of spring

Sun shines bright

Yellow Throats sing

In the meadow

New green shows

Cooling breeze

Comes and goes

Beyond the marsh

An earthen trail

Rarely heard

A Sora Rail

 

D. DeGraaf

June 1

The early morning temperatures are in the upper 50’s under partly sunny skies and a refreshing easterly breeze as I find myself hiking on private property on the southeast bank of the Pine River, between Alma and St. Louis. Up ahead, I look up to see some Silver Maple leaves displaying pencil-lead thin growths called spindle galls. These protrusions are caused my microscopic mites (stock photo) These mites spend the winter under tree bark before emerging in the spring, to feed on new leaves causing them to form the protective gall. These galls are purely cosmetic. Well-established trees are not harmed by them. Along the bank, I spot a lovely stand of Dame’s Rocket blossoms. While this plant produces fragrant, showy pink and white flowers it is highly invasive displacing native flora. Since a single plant can release up to 20,000 seeds, it can rapidly spread. Following an earthen trail, I pause to scan the river's floodplain marsh where I first hear a Song Sparrow and then the distant sound of a solitary Green Frog. Up ahead, I notice the eggshell of a new hatched Mallard chick on the ground while out on the water I see a mother Mallard swimming with three of her chicks. Also, on the water I spot some yellow Waterlilies beginning to bloom. While the steep bank displays a patch of Ostrich Ferns, out on the water, I notice three Canada Geese confronting a Mallard Drake. High overhead, I notice two perching Common Grackles. Breeding male and female Grackles frequently perch together. During the spring courtship and pair-formation phase, established pairs separate from the initial flock to fly, sing, and forage together. Turning around and heading back to the car, my eyes are drawn to a flower cluster from as Horse Chestnut tree. While they’re popular landscape trees, they produce toxic, inedible nuts. Nearby, I observe the leaves and seeds of a highly invasive Norway Maple tree. Widely planted as ornamental trees, they aggressively spread into natural areas, outcompeting native trees like the Sugar Maple by producing dense shade and inhibiting native seed germination. They create a thick canopy that blocks out the sun for understory wildflowers and plants. Their leaves are also largely unpalatable to native insects. Back to the car, I pause and realize spring is pushing forward — blossoms opening, seeds appearing, ferns unfolding and young wildlife beginning their lives along the river. I have the feeling that this stretch of the Pine is not simply a place to walk through, but a living landscape constantly renewing itself with breezes, blooms and birdsongs.

Signs of spring abound

Mother Nature thrives

Frog sits and watches

Duck swims and dives

Nests fill with chicks

Trees fill with green

Warbler on a branch

Heard, seldom seen

Seasons are changing 

Summer comes soon

Farewell to May

Greetings to June

 

D. DeGraaf

May 25

The early morning temperatures are in the mid 60’s under sunny skies and a refreshing south breeze as I find myself standing in St Louis Michigan’s Penny Park watching parent Canada Geese tending to their goslings on the grassy shore of the Pine River Millpond. Hiking west along the riverbank, I spot a patch of Field Peppergrass and a nearby patch of Swamp Buttercup swaying in the breeze along with ever present call of a male Redwing Blackbird. Further along, I notice some Wild Iris ready to bloom and a single plant of the highly invasive Garlic Mustard. Unless removed, this plant will spread very quickly forming dense colonies and outcompeting native plants for sunlight and moisture. Up ahead, I come upon a perching Eastern Kingbird. In the summer they feed on insects caught in mid-air ("flycatching"). Exploring the mowed path, my eyes are drawn to the tiny yellow blossoms of Wood Sorrel and the tiny pink blossoms of Herb-Robert. Looking back at the riverbank, I see a dried up stalk of an Adam’s Needle Yucca plant. This cultivated plant (stock photo) most likely escaped from a residential lawn. Walking close to patches of cattails along the shore, I’m not surprised to see and hear several male Redwing Blackbirds defending their nesting grounds. Likewise, I’m not surprised to see a few female Redwings perching above their nests, often located in the cattails close to the water (stock photo). Standing here, I look out at this millpond to the place where the infamous Michigan Chemical company (Velsicol) once stood and where since 1998 massive efforts have been made to remove toxins from the surrounding land and water. While water quality has improved, it remains polluted and has negative effects on wildlife populations, like Redwing Blackbirds. Redwings that live here feed at several levels of the food web — insects, aquatic larvae, seeds and small snails — so contaminants can move upward and accumulate. Effects on reproduction include thinner eggshells, reduced hatching, fewer fledglings and lower chick survival. Contaminated habitats may lose reproductive success yet display plenty of birds like this place because they move in from other wetlands. Turning around and heading back to the car on this beautiful spring morning, it is impossible not to think about the harrowing history of this part of the Pine River. Hiking beside the moving water, hearing blackbirds calling in the wind while blossoms open all around me, I’m reminded again of nature’s persistence. Spring does not erase the past but quietly insists on renewal anyway.

Duck on the pond

Bird on the wing

Green on the ground

Season of spring

Flowers that bloom

Nettles that sting

Crows that caw

Season of spring

Sun to welcome

Rain to bring

Seeds to grow

Season of spring

 

D. DeGraaf