Migration

              I was driving home last night when I noticed a flock of Canada geese eating grass and sedges from the open field.  The sun was starting to set, but I could still clearly see them.  The unexpected presence of such a large number of geese was truly striking.  The flock consisted of at least twenty five strong adults.  I wondered if the flock plans to migrate next month or if they stay in this area year round.  It’s the end of summer and most birds are getting ready to migrate.  The Black chinned hummingbird that visits my feeder will leave.  The Mississippi Kite that frequently perches in the Oak tree near my parent’s house will depart too.  I like that birds are sentimental.  For example, they will return year after year to nest in a tree they like.  I like that different bird species send out scouts, because it makes them seem organized and methodical.  Recently, I learned more about the migratory routes of birds in North Texas at the Fort Worth Nature Center.   Do you have a favorite bird?  I recommend learning all you can about one particular species, then share the knowledge with as many people as you can.  If you haven’t been to the Fort Worth Nature Center, I recommend that too.  

Full Moon Paddle

           Full Moon paddle is not just a clever name.  It’s also a regular activity at the Fort Worth Nature Center.  I called and reserved a spot a month in advance.  After having booked it, I had at least 30 days to imagine the luminous, opaque, full moon from the vantage point of a canoe.  This was an all inclusive activity.  The nature center provided the paddle, the canoe and the guide.  This was going to be a night tour of the Trinity River which only allowed twelve participants.  I was hoping to see a beaver, an alligator, and no snakes.  When the day finally arrived I was bubbling over with anticipation.  I set out on this short expedition with a friend from work, my BFF and her boyfriend.  After the initial introductions, we all rode to the nature center together.  The bonding process started.  I had not seen my friend for a while so I tried to catch up with her.  

She asked, “Do I look any different?”

I did not detect any obvious change in her appearance so I guessed. “Are you engaged?”

Her bright smile flashed as she nodded her head, “Yes!” She raised her arm so that her hand and ring could be easily admired.

“Wow!”  I said, “Congratulations, that is wonderful news!”

Her ring was a simple band.  When we arrived at the nature center, no one was at the gate.  I did not know where we should go.  Luckily, at that moment, two women in a white Toyota drove past us.  

I pointed and said, “Follow that car.”

Luckily, that car lead us directly to the place we needed to be.  After checking in with our guide, we parked.  Everyone formed a circle and one of the leaders went over the rules, then instructed us on how to use our paddles.  We put on life jackets and made sure they fit.  Grasping in one hand my paddle, I gazed at the canoes.  They were full size.  

Once we got situated inside the canoe, my partner said, “Wow, you are so far away.”  

I sat at the front of the canoe which allowed me the greatest view.  My friend sat at the back.  The temperature was steadily growing cooler.  I debated whether or not to take my jacket but ended up leaving it in the car.  I was wearing a short sleeve shirt and hiking pants.  

Our group of 8 canoes started out heading East.  Our guide had spotted an Osprey and an owl earlier and he wanted to see if they were still there.  As we rounded the corner, I saw the Osprey perched high in an old tree.  His wing span was magnificent.  He lifted off from the dying tree that he had been perched on.  As we turned our canoe around I finally saw the moon.  It was huge.  It beamed and reflected on the smooth surface of the water.  With each passing moment, it was growing darker.  Looking around I felt like the tiny moth attracted to the flame, I was perfectly spellbound by the natural beauty before me.  At the front of our canoes, there was a pole with one tiny light attached to the end.  We looked like floating candles from a distance.  The reeds along the river were at least six feet high.  One of the ladies in our party had expressed an interest in seeing an Alligator.  We stopped at a male beaver’s bachelor pad.  Our guide, Chad, told us the brief history of the 4 year old male beaver that made the den.  Then we paddled down to the family lodge where we learned more about the mated pair of beavers.  They had been together for ten years.  Wow.  As Chad explained the beaver’s life cycle, my eye’s scanned the shore for any sign of movement.  Once we moved downriver, we saw a couple of baby alligators, heard two beavers slap their tail, and we kept upsetting a Great Blue Heron who was trying to fish.  

The water was very shallow at a couple of points and we had to follow our guide in a single file line.  Three times I heard the Great Blue Heron give us a warning.  It sounded ominous and scary.  We paddled vigorously for two hours.  My partner in the canoe kept trying to keep up with our guide.  It took me a while to figure out how to direct the canoe.  All the movements were foreign to me.  Several times we bumped into other canoes because I could not figure out how to steer us to the right or left.  When one of the beavers slapped his tail against the surface of the water, I couldn’t help feeling like an awestruck teenager.  It was so dark.  Looking up, I could see stars.  The light from the moon seemed to grow brighter.  It allowed us to see the stumps that were dotted throughout the river.

We eventually made it back to the dock.  By this time, I was shivering.  It took 30 minutes to unload the canoes.  Soon my engaged friend, her fiance and my friend were back in the car headed home.  I recommend the Full Moon Paddle at the Fort Worth Nature Center to anyone and everyone.

Mobbing

          I was raised by an English teacher, so in my formative years vocabulary was a big deal.  Frequently I would hear Mom say, “Do you have a better word for that?”  Conversely, if I said, “During lunch, my conversation with Becky seemed aimless and trite.”  My mom would immediately cheer, “Good word!!”  

        Yesterday it was mid morning when I was driving through Hurst and witnessed one of my new vocabulary words in action.  My heart jumped with excitement.  The word is mobbing.  It is when a group of smaller birds gang up on a bird of prey.  They taunt and tease him until he leaves the area.  In the sky, the bird of prey looked like a White-tailed Hawk.  A group of at least eleven American Crow’s were charging, dive bombing him.  I have never been a huge fan of Crows, but in this moment I was completely enthralled.  Like Ice Cube, these small opportunistic birds were Steady Mobbin’.  It all happened quickly.  I was parked at the intersection waiting for the light to turn green when I saw them chase the unwelcome predatory bird away.

I thought of my mom and called to tell her about this teachable moment.  It’s true that I’m a city dweller, but I always enjoy being reminded of the natural world.  Whether it’s seeing a hummingbird, or a rabbit, regardless of the specifics, it makes me happy.

Spring Action

        According to an old Chinese Proverb, “A bird does not sing because it has an answer.  It sings because it has a song.” It was a sunny morning in North Texas when I took my Chihuahua out for a walk.  As we crossed the grassy knoll, we had gone about fifty paces when I noticed about twenty Mallard ducks walking in single file.  They left the safety of the pond to look for food.  Meanwhile, a single Canade goose did not follow them.  He merely waited beside the pond, looking like a security guard on duty.  Sure enough, when a Red-tailed hawk flew close by the Canada goose let out a series of harsh honking calls.  As I observed all this, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to his mate.  Canada geese are typically monogamous, but there are exceptions.  Is she dead?  How did she die?  These questions swirled around in my head as I moved from the grass to the pavement and back to my front door.  The Mallards finished their morning foraging session and returned to the pond for a swim.  Every time I walk out my front door I see something different.  

Happy Birthday Ansel

           Today was Ansel Adams birthday.  He passed away in 1984, right about the time that I gave up studying the piano and began studying boys.  As Walt Disney was faithful to a mouse named Mickey, Ansel was deeply committed to his craft.  If you never loved nature or mountains before, you could look at his photographs then fall hard and fast.  I admire Ansel for never needing a “focus friend.”  Whereas I sit down to write, then see a squirrel, then start chasing the squirrel.  Ansel wasn’t like that.  He spent 20 years churning out an amazing body of work.  Happy Birthday Ansel!  Unlike others, I did not need your pictures to love mountains.  However, I do appreciate and admire you.

Animals Surviving Winter

Happy New Year!  

Most of the country was hit by the polar vortex, an arctic airmass.  Temperatures dropped.  What do animals do when temperatures get that low?  During day two of icemaggedon, I saw a collection of House sparrows looking for food.  My bird bath was completely frozen, so I slapped a suet bird cake on top.  It did not take long for the hungry members of the species Passer domesticus to find it and start eating.  Passer domesticus is the Latin name for House sparrow.  A gang of Starlings huddled in a nearby tree where they frequently pumped their wings in order to puff up their feathers, which I imagine is something they do to warm themselves.  In nature, greater body mass equals more insulation.  In a few days, I will fly to Wisconsin where the temperatures are even colder.  I have not met the birds up there, but I already respect them simply for surviving.  I can recall in years past, when the Texas heat became unbearable telling friends or strangers, “If I were a pigeon, I’d be dead right now.”  The underlying message was I can’t survive in a tough environment. Some animals go underground.  The subnivean zone is a collection of open spaces and tunnels between the snow and the ground.  It’s created when the ground melts the ice directly on top of it.  The snow acts as insulation which helps the smaller animals survive.  Some animals sleep through the tough times: bears, bees, snakes, woodchucks, hedgehogs, chipmunks, bats, raccoons, and skunks etc.  MAD, migrate-adapt-or-die, is the saying that I used to teach my fifth grade students when we were talking about nature’s survival strategies.  I am hoping to see some evidence of life in the snow while visiting Wisconsin.   

Messner, Kate. Over and Under the Snow. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2011.

Seja, Ledan.  “List of Animals that Hibernate.” 17 Jan. 2014. Demand Media. AOL Inc. http://animals.pawnation.com/list-animals-hibernate-3236.html

The Big Tree Tour

In the beginning, I pulled into what looked like a tree farm.  I parked my Toyota close to the main building, and quickly started unloading my sleeping bag and suitcase.  A tall dark-haired man named Courtney greeted me and showed me to the van.  This hunter green van could safely carry up to 11 people.  I introduced myself to the other tree lovers.  We made a quick stop at Starbucks.  Gene asked for a tall bold, and Courtney, our leader and driver, was confused.  “A tall bole?”  

Three of us yelled, “A tall B-O-L-D!”  

      Finally, Courtney the forester, got it.  

With coffee in hand, we rode to Benbrook to see a Memorial Bur oak.  After we parked, we walked to the spot.  Approaching this tree, I felt very small.  I found an acorn, and put it in my pocket.  The Bur oak acorn was about the size of a doll’s head.  I have never been one to pay much attention to trees, but this specimen was impressive.  The image would have been nice engraved on a coin, or tattooed onto some inmates calf muscle.  Instead, I enjoyed it in person, without whipping out my iphone to document it.  After a bathroom break, we piled into the van and set out for Granbury.  Granbury is a cozy town, especially when viewed from a climate controlled van.  I chatted with Sandy, my newfound BFF.  We stopped for chocolate, because according-to-proper-tree-tour-etiquette-you-eat-dessert-first.  Once we were all buzzing off our chocolate high, we disembarked to see the Texas Live Oak.  It was a Kodak moment for sure.  Conversation halted as we examined the tree.  In Paluxy, we yielded to the right-of-way of some escarpment Live Oaks.  Driving through Johnson City, we noted almost every place of business was named after LBJ.  The world’s largest Vitex tree was guarded by a malnourished coonhound dog.  When we approached, the coonhound barked and his tail was tucked completely under his legs.  It was sad to see.  I wanted to give him a treat and tell him that I’ve had bad experiences with people too.  In Comanche, we stopped for lunch.  We dined in a cafe that did not accept credit cards.  It’s weird being in a cash only business.  I kept thinking, are we in America?  What-in-the-ham-sandwich is going on!  Unfortunately, all the other tree lovers on this trip probably thought I had an eating disorder because I didn’t order food.  I told them that my food was in the van.  Once we left, I crawled into the van and pulled out the tortillas and string cheese in my backpack.  I inhaled the food like I was a starving refugee in Somalia.  The Fleming Live Oak tree had an epic story including a boy, some wild Native Americans, and a town trying to survive.  Now that I had eaten a tortilla, my view of the tree was much more optimistic and upbeat.  Our first day concluded in Fredericksburg.  We saw a Smoke Tree and a Deodar Cedar.  At the hotel, I forgot my luggage in the lobby, but luckily Courtney was the guardian who watched over my belongings until I finally came to my senses.  We went to dinner at a traditional German restaurant called Friedhelm’s Bavarian Inn.  Sandy and I split a plate of Sauerbraten Art.   Our waiter had dark hair and the pale face of someone who spends countless hours indoors playing World of Warcraft. Gene gave the waiter a hard time for forgetting Sandy’s lemons.  The waiter responded by bringing the lemons, looking at Gene, “Here Mr. Grumpy Pants.”  

We all laughed.  It was amusing to see this spirited exchange while all of us consumed a massive amount of food.  When we exited the restaurant, we hobbled to the van. It starkly contrasted with our fast walk upon entering the restaurant. We moved slowly and carefully, not wanting to upset our food babies.  

        On Saturday, we left by 9:45 am.  We stopped at Starbucks, my home away from home.  We were driving through the Texas hill country.  In Leakey, we saw a grove of Baldcypress trees that would have made the Orcs in Middle Earth look like ants.  In Rio Frio, we climbed on a Large Live Oak.  I imagined Gandalf would have scratched his head, bewildered by our actions.  In the van, things heated up.  Conversation went from deadly Oak Wilt to silly aerial sketch mapping to LBJ’s shaved ice and then back to Mr. Grumpy Pants.  We didn’t see any igneous rocks, but gosh darn it, we talked about them.  Words like contumacious and bilaterally frequently could be heard coming from our fragmented-one-size-fits-all-conversations.  We met a forester from San Antonio.  He talked about digging down to get the real dbh, which of course made me laugh.  DBH is tree talk for measuring the diameter at breast height.  We went to the Burditt Ranch to see a Baldcypress tree.  In the shade of that gentle giant, I saw several monarch butterflies feeding on flowers.  There was also a hog trap that I decided to climb into.  Looking back, I wouldn’t do that again, but at the time, climbing into the trap seemed logical and breezy.  We stopped for the night in Concan at Criders Cabins.  The current state champion tree was there.  It was a Baldcypress.  The owner of the property stopped by to ask how we liked the cabins.  She mentioned the Axis deer that roam the land. 

“The call of the deer sounds like a grown woman screaming.” She proceeded to demonstrate the sound.

As I drifted to sleep that night, I could hear the deer calling to one another.  Once asleep, I dreamed of deer and trees.  

The next day, we left by 10:00 am.  The van ride home was mostly quiet.  Once Sandy and I saw a hawk fly by.  

“What kind of hawk is that?”

Casually, I shrugged and said, “I think that was LBJ’s hawk.”  

We all laughed.  Gene said, “Hey, you’re awake.”

I learned many things on this big tree tour.  First, foresters are nice people. Next, take cash on a tree tour.  Finally, trees can get really big.