A Winter's Ramble....

One thing that social media can do is bring together those who can share mutual interests.  And so it was last weekend when five otherwise bright people defied the winter cold  - even by Chicago standards - for a January hike along Lake Michigan.

Our merry band kicked off what will hopefully be monthly excursions to explore the natural world that sometimes seems hidden in our urbanized world. I thought that our leaders made a splendid choice for an inaugural trek, as the dramatic Lake Michigan shoreline is anything but hidden from a visual standpoint. We met at midday at the north end of Lake Shore Drive and headed south.

Totem pole :: Chicago (2016)

Cold cold cold cold cold.  So we shoved off - moving briskly. There seemed to be general agreement that the bright sunshine and the wind at our backs made for an overall lovely day.  One flock of gulls were tucked into snow covered sand - which was an odd sight that I had never seen before. The scene also included about ten pigeons who were foraging over the sand demonstrating that we were at least as clever and hardy as these avian neighbors.

Sun, surf, sand, snow, seagulls :: Chicago (2016)

Sun, surf, sand, snow, seagulls :: Chicago (2016)

The lake itself was choppy, and when we walked further south waves the color of weak cocoa were breaking over the concrete seawalls. Spindly plants that grew out of the fissures in the concrete were covered in new ice. We followed the path south, and soon we were upon Montrose Harbor where there were quite a few dogs (and their humans) cavorting on the dog beach.   We trundled through the dune lands around the Magic Hedge, and as we made our way around the harbor we spotted Buffleheads and Mergansers sharing the waters with the Canada Geese.

Chicago (2016)

The shoreline gradually swept away and the skyline of the city came into full view. There were times when I felt like we were exploring an alien world, but soon we would pass by various sculptures, giving us clues as to makeup of the civilization buzzing across the Outer Drive. 

Amidst frozen ripples :: Chicago (2016)

 ***

Urban nature, art, and great conversation w/ @Foot_and_Ink today! Photos: https://t.co/MUjCYgHHv7 pic.twitter.com/5PByrlfupM

— Jamie McCarthy (@jamersmcc) January 11, 2016

Urban wildlife encounters on #LakesideTrail today: goldeneyes, red-tailed hawk, robin with berry, and dinosaur. pic.twitter.com/JzK4ek5aOQ

— UrbanNatureWalks (@Foot_and_Ink) January 11, 2016

Living on the (H)edge

My latest #hedgerow essay >> Living on the (H)edge https://t.co/tVkk7QboWe via @humansandnature

— Dave Coulter (@Dav_Coulter) November 16, 2015

On Naming Trees...

A couple of weeks back we all journeyed out to northern California, where among other things we took in the mighty Pacific and mighty trees - specifically the coast redwood (Sequoia sempervirens). Such sights drastically confounded my normal sense of scale, and after a little while on the trail I simply abandoned the idea of trying to photograph these trees - and zeroed in on the scenery that was a little closer:

Forest floor, coast redwood grove.

Thanks to a kind tip from the folks at the hardware store in Mendocino, we hit the road to hike among old growth trees that were in the same general size range as the Hyperion tree - recently tweeted by the Biodiversity Heritage Library:

Tallest #tree towers over #StatueOfLiberty http://t.co/O8KRVTffHe Historical record in BHL http://t.co/bfz1fDf3Lx pic.twitter.com/hcQ9cVUxyZ

— BHL (@BioDivLibrary) September 1, 2015

It's difficult not to get swept up in the wonder of which tree (was, until 2010) considered the tallest tree on Earth.  However, these individual trees are not marked - and really, after about a mile or so in we lost count of the trees that may have been the local champ, as the trees seemed to just get bigger and bigger.

* * *

Upon returning home I began teaching a plant identification class.  I suppose I look forward to this more than my new students - some of whom are wading for the first time into the world of plant names.  I recognize the challenge of this, and so over the past couple weeks we have started with the basics.  I believe that everyone has some intuitive knowledge of naming plants, a knowledge that begins at childhood and accumulates in almost a subconscious way.  I think that we often underestimate this lifelong understanding - but having access to these personal memories of the plants of our past is a great foundation for any future explorations in botanic nomenclature.

* * *

All of this plant naming business came to a head today when I read this touching and funny tree-related essay about a recent memorial celebrating the life of the greatly missed writer Alexander Cockburn:

The Alexander Cockburn Tree, with celebrants. Image Credit CounterPunch.

Scientists have verified that this enormous Blue gum tree (Eucalyptus globulus) - near Cockburn's final resting place - has world-record circumference and will be known henceforth as the Alexander Cockburn Tree!  It's gratifying to know that to many, this particular (Very Big) tree will now occupy a place in their hearts and memories that goes well beyond a scientific name in a textbook or a random tree in a meadow. 

"This is where we walked, this is where we swam..."   

- Cuyahoga, R.E.M.

A cautionary tail....

This tweet posted by DePaul professor Liam Heneghan stirred up some old memories: 

— Liam Heneghan (@DublinSoil) August 23, 2015

When I was a little kid, maybe 5-7 years old, I received a copy of the book The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin as a gift. The book was also accompanied by a little toy plastic squirrel, that was covered with fake fuzz to make it seem more realistic. I've read a lot of books, and forgotten many of them. However, Liam's tweet reminded me of how unsettling the owl character was to me in that story. 

It must be so, because after a half a century I can still recall (paraphrasing the character Quint in Jaws) the "cold dead eyes" of Old Brown. This owl had the all-black eyes that many species possess, and I think Beatrix Potter did well to cast and illustrate the malevolent target of Nutkin's teasing. Ultimately, the teasing goes too far, and Old Brown has had quite enough. He pins Nutkin on his back, threatening to open him up the way a fisherman would gut a bluegill.  Old Brown gazes at Nutkin with a sad, almost benevolent gaze:  

      

This is going to hurt me more than it is you....

Anyway, Nutkin survives this encounter and lives to see another day, less the better part of his tail. My exchange with Liam got me thinking about this book, and the message it sends to a young reader: Listen junior, don't jack around with authority too much, or there will be severe consequences.... Nutkin - now with only half a tail - is now clearly marked amongst his squirrel peers. But how? As a bad seed, battle scarred, or as merely unlucky? Don't you secretly wonder if he remained a smart ass?  

For the life of me, I cannot recall who gave me this gift when I was a boy. I think it may have been from one of our neighbors, but I can't be sure. In hindsight, it's tempting to wonder if I was being sent a message: Be a good boy David, or the man will cut you, and scar you!  And you have to admit, there is some truth in that message. Life, and nature has boundaries. Liam is currently working on a book about kid's books, and our folklore is full of examples of what can befall one when those boundaries are crossed - or if those silly kids wander too deep into the forest.

Be careful out there. Stay on the trail, and don't mess around with the owls!

Thanks, Mister Hess...

Over the course of the past month I have been monitoring birds in and around two roadside hedgerows in Cook County. I was doing this for my most recent master's course, but going out and counting birds in your neighborhood is a pursuit that I would recommend to anyone. These ideas seem to start out simply enough, but before you know it counting birds in old hedgerows may lead to some interesting places.

As I was tracking down articles about such topics, I came across an article from over 100 years ago that intrigued me. In 1910, Isaac Hess wrote an article that appeared in The Auk, titled "One Hundred Breeding Birds of an Illinois Ten-Mile Radius."  Hess was from the town of Philo,Illinois - in Champaign, County.  Hess was a merchant by trade, but a naturalist at heart. In this article, Hess summarized some 12 years worth of remarkable field observations taken within the confined radius of his homestead.

For my purposes, I was initially seeking out local references about birds and hedgerows - but ultimately, I was captivated by this glimpse of a landscape from a century ago. I loved reading Hess' writing - a style that was clear and uncomplicated. His local landmarks were groves of trees and local watercourses - geographical thinking that is virtually extinct in this Age of Mapquest. I have to wonder what, if anything, remains of these wooded parcels that he'd named.

John J. Audubon (American, 1785-1851). Whip-Poor-Will. Aquatint, approx.: 27 x 40 in. (68.6 x 101.6 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the estate of Emily Winthrop Miles, 64.98.17

And then, of course, are the birds. I hope you take some time to read his accounts, but here is one example that caught my eye:

27. Antrostomus vodiferus. WHIP-POOR-WILL.- Common summer resident. Arrives April 25 to May 1. Found only in the upland woods after their arrival from the south. Here they stay but a few days, leaving for the low damp woods for nesting. I have succeeded in finding but one set of eggs. This was a set of two taken May 16, 1901. A great deal has been written about this bird's night notes and the number of times they are repeated. At midnight on a moon-light night in May, 1905, I counted 175 repetitions of "whip-poor-will" before a pause was taken.  

No one writes (in scientific journals, certainly) about Whip-poor-wills calling in the moonlight any more. Hess wrote in a language of a different time that describes a bird that - one hundred years later - seems to be declining in numbers. Anyway, thanks, Mr. Hess, for committing to paper and ink years worth of field work that shows us modern folk what once was. If you were here today, you'd see that a great deal has changed.  Nevertheless, some of us are still out there poking around the field margins, following in those large footsteps of yours.

Hedgerow gap...

Just putting the finishing touches on a new paper about hedgerows and birds.... 

Cook County, IL :: June, 2015

Life in the Margins: The Role of the Post-Modern Hedgerow

Late last month a new essay of mine appeared in Solutions Journal.  It is titled Life in the Margins: The Role of the Post-Modern Hedgerow, and I hope you enjoy it!

Remnant hedgerow, Du Page County, IL.