April 27

With temperatures in the mid 40’s under mostly cloudy skies, I’m continuing my exploration of the main channel of the Pine River from its mouth, not too far from here to its source near the village of Remus, a journey of some 50 miles. I’m hiking in a 240-acre woodland in Midland County about 5 miles southwest of my last encounter in Gordonville. Despite being remote and undeveloped, this property, owned by the city of Midland, provides public access to the river. With no trail to follow, I head due west through a dense forest of oak and aspen where I check out the leaf litter as well as mounds of lush Sphagnum moss. Just ahead, I flush a female Woodcock from her ground nest and watch as she quickly flies a short distance, lands and begins to flutter her wings while scampering over the leaf litter. This behavior is known as injury-feigning or distraction display, aimed at diverting a predator from eggs or chicks. Like the female Killdeer, this mother bird stays just out of my reach, luring me away from the concealed eggs or chicks. Continuing toward the river, I pass through dense woodlands of immature white birch. In the process of natural succession, these trees, referred to as pioneer species, thrive briefly before the oaks, beech and maple take over and grow into a climax forest. About a half mile from the start of my hike, I reach the river’s edge where I pause to observe this springtime riparian landscape. Further downstream, I pause again to focus on the soothing sounds of this watercourse as it flows east. Nearby, my attention is drawn to an Ash tree whose trunk, weakened by the lethal infection of the Emerald Ash Borer, snapped off and toppled over. Leaving the river to make my way back, I notice an Eastern Phoebe perching and chasing small insects. Nearby, I spot a pattern of holes in a white Birch tree trunk called sapwells made by the Yellow Bellied Sapsucker.(stock photo) This species of woodpecker has an unusual tongue which has a fringed, spoon-like end suitable for lapping up the sap from the holes it makes (stock photo). Near the end of the hike, I come upon a partially decayed deer carcass that makes me think about the variety of scavengers and decomposers that are part of nature’s amazing cycle of life and death. Finally, I locate the car and head for home.

Between her earthen banks

where ripples texture the surface,

the artist paints the mirrored water

with colors and shades of foliage green.

Along with reflections of white cumulus 

and glistening gold of a midday sun,

she adorns the canvas with floating

leaves of oak and broken boughs of pine.

Admiring her handiwork, I realize 

that no gallery or museum of renown

can display such natural beauty.

D. DeGraaf

April 20

I’m standing on the edge of one of the many meanders of the Pine River about five miles upstream from where I began my exploration of this valuable watercourse, two weeks ago. I’m in Midland County near the former village of Gordonville. Only a combination grocery store and gas station with a sign that reads "Gordonville" marks the spot just west of here that once was a thriving village consisting of a church, a school, a grocery store, a garage and a restaurant. Lumbermen from Canada settled here in the early 1900’s to cut what was called "square lumber" after the huge white pines were depleted. It was then floated down the Pine, Chippewa, and Tittabawassee Rivers to Saginaw (stock photo) to the lumber mills where it was used in building boats. The midday weather is partly sunny and unseasonably chilly with a stiff west wind as I make my way along the densely wooded north bank where I pause to watch the river flow swiftly by. Up ahead, I pass a pile of deer bones and a patch of the highly invasive Garlic Mustard. Next, I descend the steep bank to the water’s edge where I take in the reflection of trees on the mirrored surface as well as one of the many versions of a Northern Cardinal song. Going back up the slope and continuing to parallel the river, I first notice that Aspen leaves make up most of the litter and then I spot a pile of Mourning Dove feathers, likely the leftovers of a predator’s meal. Soon after, I gaze skyward through a leafless canopy and welcome the sun as it breaks through the clouds to warm me up. As the river curves sharply to the north, I descend the bank once again to explore the edge where I come across a patch of green, straw-size reeds called Horsetail. Scanning the muddy shore, I notice what appear to be Bobcat tracks. Given the recent sightings of a Bobcat at the nearby Chippewa Nature Center, I’m not surprised to find them here. Turning around, I begin to retrace my steps where I see and hear a White breasted Nuthatch. Approaching the car, I spot several dried seedpods of Black Locust trees scattered on the trail. Finally, I reach the car and begin my journey home to continue social isolation.

Through fertilized fields

Meandering flow

Past urban drains

Onward you go

Nitrates and Phosphates

Have poisoned you

Combined with coliforms

A toxic stew

Your water is tainted

Polluting the earth

Time to heal you

River of worth

D. DeGraaf

April 13

It is mid morning when Caroline and I venture to the Emma Burnham Outdoor Center, a 20-acre preserve in the neighboring town of St. Louis, MI. With sunny skies and temperatures in the low 50’s, we wander around a mature forest of leafless Beech, Oak and Maple punctuated by several vernal ponds. First thing I notice is some new spring greenery including: young Honeysuckle leaves in the understory and Tiger Lily leaves in the litter. Glancing eastward into the rising sun, I can barely make out the rotating blades of one of many wind turbines that are now common in the rural landscape of Gratiot County. The sight of moss patches growing on the east base of some large tree trunks reminds me of a misconception that they always grows on the north side. Next, I follow a tiny brown moth as it lands on a wooden surface where it is well camouflaged. Sounds of nature that break the quietude of our surroundings include: a Tufted Titmouse, a Wood Frog and several Chorus Frogs. With no defined trail to follow, we continue to meander over a heavy blanket of leaf litter where I pause to spot a sprinkling of Red Maple flowers in a shallow pool. Up ahead, I come upon a decaying stump that apparently was used as a dinner table for an acorn-eating squirrel. Exiting the woods, I spend several minutes exploring the edge of a small pond where I spot a partially submerged Leopard Frog hiding in the tangled vegetation. Nearby, I watch an 18-inch Garter Snake slithering near the shoreline. From the footbridge, I notice some willows beginning to seed out while others display pinecone galls. Slicing the galls open lengthwise at this time of the year will reveal a single midge fly larva (maggot) nestled in the center (stock photo). On our way back to the car, I come upon a mound of mud, called a crayfish chimney, produced by a burrowing crayfish that digs a tunnel to the water table and forms a chamber where it spends most of its time. This variety of crayfish is seldom seen, exiting its burrow only in spring and summer on rainy or very humid nights to forage for food or search for a mate. Finally, we reach the car and head for home to continue our social isolation.

First woodland flower

Gentle morning shower

Curious whitetail doe

Distant perching crow

Pussy willow seed

Broken cattail reed

Spring Chorus frogs

Decomposing logs

Placid pond scene

Lush moss of green

Middle April day

Nature’s grand display

D. DeGraaf

April 6

After suffering from cabin fever for several days, I’m pleased to escape the confines and find a cure in the natural world. With the early morning sun shining bright and a temperature just above freezing, I stand at the mouth of the Pine River as it completes its eastward journey and converges with the Chippewa River (upper right channel) at the Chippewa Nature Center, near Midland. During the next six months, I plan to follow the Pine River upstream to its source some 50 miles northwest of here in the tiny village of Remus, exploring and describing the natural history of access areas along the way. With no humans in sight, I’m not worried about social distancing as I hike along the south riverbank while spotting a male Redwing Blackbird perched high and a Junco, perched low. While the Redwings have recently arrived from the south, the Juncos will soon depart for the north. Continuing to follow the river channel, I pause to catch a glimpse of a male Common Merganser riding the current down stream. Along the way, I recognize two bird songs that speak of spring: a Tufted Titmouse and a Northern Cardinal. Exploring the bank more closely, I notice patches of moss and a muskrat hole. Just ahead, a fallen Ash log reveals a pattern of serpentine furrows made by Ash Borer larvae that girdled the tree and killed it before it fell. Also, another fallen log displays the reddish color resin found in its core. Glancing skyward, I look and listen to a few noisy geese soaring over the river. Further along, I stop at an observation deck to scan the river channel revealing a narrow islet in the middle. Next, I come upon a 3x5 ft. wood and metal structure on the ground placed there by the Nature Center to harbor a variety of warm and cold- blooded creatures. After lifting it up, I’m not surprised to find nothing alive due to the near freezing temperature. As I move ahead, I first pass under the open canopy of deciduous trees and then the closed canopy of conifers. Turning around to face the sun, I follow a paved path through the tree shadows to a small cattail marsh that has yet to show evidence of spring. Finally, I reach the car and head home to hunker down like most humans on earth.

Out of the barren winter
Comes a time of birth
Mother Nature’s offspring
Emerge from the earth
Out of softening soil
Ants scurry around
Out of decaying litter
Sprouts from the ground
Out of the swollen river
Mallard ducks appear
Out of a burgeoning forest
Comes the hungry deer 

D. DeGraaf

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