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

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

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

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

November 29

The early morning is sunny with frigid temperatures in the low 20’s, as I begin hiking along the banks of the Pine River in Alma’s Conservation Park on my annual quest to find what vegetation still retains the green pigment of chlorophyll. Heading west on a paved path, I spot a small willow tree and a Honeysuckle shrub with some green leaves. Turning into a dense woodland of broadleaf trees, I notice all the chlorophyll is absent from the leaf litter. Present in all green plants, chlorophyll’s job is to convert sunlight into nutrients and oxygen in a process called photosynthesis. Because food webs in every type of ecosystem, from terrestrial to marine, begin with green plants, chlorophyll is considered a foundation for all life on Earth. Continuing west, I pass through a patch of evergreen Horsetail before pausing at the edge of the Pine River to see some floating duckweed that is still green. Away from the river, I follow a road lined with large evergreen trees including Norway Spruce and White Pine. Up ahead, I look more closely at some green needles of White Pine. These evergreens have very strong leaves that are rolled up as long, thin needles. This special needle shape, along with a waxy coating, allows evergreen trees to conserve water during summer and winter, which is needed to continue the photosynthesis process. So because they can conserve more water than their deciduous counterparts, their leaves stay green and remain attached longer. However, I do notice dead White pine needles fell and scattered on the road. Nearby, I come upon a grass-like sedge plant that still has green leaves. Just ahead, I first enter the Eyer bird hut to check out the feeders and then proceed to the Eyer Learning Circle. Continuing east, I follow an earthen trail into a dense woodland where I spot some recently fallen green Mulberry leaves along with lots of green moss, including some growing at the base of trees. The idea that moss only grows on the north side of a tree is a little misleading. Moss grows anywhere where the ground is moist and shady. Along the ground, I see frost-covered Motherwort and Plantain leaves that remain green. Other green vegetation that catches my eye include ferns and wild ginger. Heading back toward the car, I pause to see other vegetation with chlorophyll including: wild carrot, some fescue, blue and rye grasses, thistle as well as wild raspberry.

 

Peaceful forest

Whitetail of fall

Graceful creature

Stealth, above all

Blind is warm

Coffee’s hot

Pile of bait

Covers the plot

Powerful scope

Powerful gun

Ready to shoot

Run, deer, run!

 

D. DeGraaf

November 22

Under mostly sunny skies and mid-autumn, noontime temperatures in the upper 30’s, Riley, Caroline and I begin our hike in Mt. Pleasant’s 90-acre Millpond Park. Heading south, we walk beside a large pond where I spot a mating pair of Mallards swimming near shore and a gaggle of Canada Geese swimming out in the middle. Nearby, I notice some floating leaves of water lilies have changed color. Turning east, we make our way through a dense grove of Boxelder trees with their divided trunks and crooked limbs spreading in all directions. Along the path, I spots some green leaves of Motherwort, an herb in the mint family that was used medicinally by the early Greeks, who gave it to pregnant women suffering from anxiety, which is how the herb reportedly got its name. Native to central Eurasia, this plant has now spread to North America as an invasive weed. In herbal medicine, its leaves and flowers (stock photo) contain antioxidants and anti-inflammatory compounds as well as leonurine, a compound for treating heart palpitations. Soon, I’m face-to-face with a large, decaying trunk of an Ash tree displaying serpentine grooves made by larvae of the infamous Emerald Ash Borer, the killer of millions of these trees across North America. Arriving at the Chippewa River, I turn north and follow the slow flowing water downstream while passing a few lingering patches of snow from an earlier accumulation. Following the river, as it meanders through the park, I pause and watch it surge through a partial dam and over large rocks. Crossing a bridge, we turn around and head back on a paved path where I spot a patch of Periwinkle in the leaf litter. This evergreen groundcover is a common invader throughout most of the United States. Native to Europe, it was commonly known in folklore as the “flower of death” because its vines were woven into headbands worn by dead children or criminals on their way to execution. Up ahead, colorful berries of American Bittersweet catch my eye. This fruit is toxic to us mammals but highly sought after by birds. Despite their toxicity, humans nonetheless covet these fruits. Entire vines are cut down and used in fall flower arrangements. Continuing back to the car, I notice dried, dead leaves still hanging on branches of a Blue Beech tree as well as colorful Sugar Maple leaves displaying a fungus called Tar Spot. 

Season to hunt

Season to kill

Seeking quarry

Seeking a thrill

Lethal weapon

Bullets release

Finding their mark

Ending the peace

Preserving life

Is not the plan

Trophy buck

Pleasure of man

 

D. DeGraaf

November 15

Under mostly cloudy skies and temperatures in the mid 40’s, Caroline, Riley and I are hiking in Isabella County’s 590-acre, Deerfield Park. Right away, I spot lots of wispy seeds of a Clematis vine, referred to as “Old Man’s Beard.” A few months ago, this plant displayed fragrant white blossoms (stock photo). Also called Virgin's Bower, it is believed Clematis blossoms grew in abundance within the castle occupied by the virgin queen of England, Elizabeth I during the 1500’s. Just ahead in a clearing, I come upon a rosette of Common Mullein with felt-like leaves as well as a dying stalk of another Common Mullein that was topped with a cluster of yellow flowers only a few months ago (stock photo). The rosette represents the first-year growth of this plant while the flower stalk is produced in the second year. Nearby, I spot a dried-up rosette gall on a willow sapling. The process begins when a tiny female midge (stock photo) lays an egg on a shoot tip. Elongation of the shoot is suppressed but leaves continue to develop and become crowded together, forming the rosette. A midge larva develops inside the rosette, feeding on the leaves. Presently, inside this dried-up gall, the larva has pupated and will overwinter there. Next spring an adult fly will emerge in time to lay eggs and start the process anew. Continuing to the Lewis Pontiac Bridge, I look and listen as over-flow water from a small, man-made lake to the north surges into the main branch of the Chippewa river. This brings back memories of a similar scene last winter. While crossing the bridge, I look westward as the river flows under me. On the far side, I pause to take in the lovely autumn patterns on American Beech leaves. Proceeding along the south bank, I glance skyward to see that oak leaves still linger in the broadleaf canopy while at my feet, the fading leaf litter contains mostly Cottonwood and Aspen with a smattering of Oak. Following the Wildwood Pathway, I recross the river on the suspension bridge which reminds me of a similar crossing last summer. Heading east, we explored the edge of a bayou where Riley takes a dip.  Approaching the car, I pause one last time to examine the trunk of a huge Maple tree where I notice a mixture of Whitewash Lichens and moss. 

 

Not too far from the hunter’s gun

Run, river run

Your journey’s not over, only half done

Run, river run

By light of the moon, light of the sun

Run, river run

Ice floes have not yet begun

Run, river run

Keeping you clean is priority one

Run, Chippewa run

 

D. DeGraaf