On wood floors and forests

As I vacuum the pine floors of our pre-Civil War home, I wonder who else has walked across these random planks in the past 150 years.  Their bourbon color is rich, unlike any of the wood stain colors on shelves of a DIY store.  They bear the scars of past visitors and their old edges are worn.  Think of all the conversations that these floors have been witness to.  And just how many paws and mice and children have scampered over them?

These were floors built to last, unlike the rapidly grown unnaturally soft oak in the parts of the house that are newer and trampled by fewer footprints.  The spaces between the pine boards have grown wide and now serve largely as troughs for gathering dust.  But sometimes while cleaning, the vacuum excavates an old hat pin or tack, and I ponder their stories.

Where did the pine come from?  If the walnut furniture left behind by previous owners or the chestnut beams in the barn are any indication, it was likely from the back forty.  There still is forest there, but it is an aged and unhealthy one.  Nowadays, these woods are overrun by invasive plants and Hayscented Fern (Dennstaedtia punctilobula) – signs of human disturbance and too many browsing deer.

Our windows and doors are framed by rough-hewn cherry boards.  The cherry trees of Pennsylvania are dying out now; the Prunus descendents have grown old and afflicted with disease and changing climate.  The gypsy moths and acid rain have taken their toll too; just ask any of the old oaks.  Some still stand majestically like Tolkien’s ents; others are favorite hunting grounds of the Pileated Woodpeckers, Dryocopus pileatus.  Still others are losing their large limbs, a slow, but certain death.  These insect-laden logs will not be turned into floor boards.

A few black walnuts are still around, and there are white pines, but they are relatively small in girth, nowhere close to the size needed to produce the planks in our house.  The chestnuts are, of course, long gone.  I love to lean against the chestnut beams in the barn, laden with holes from powder post beetles, but still as strong as steel.  I try to imagine the forests that once covered these ridges of the Appalachians providing chestnuts and acorns and cherries for all of the wildlife.  And, for this moment, I try not to think of the changes that are yet to come.

On the fierce green fire - one for Big T

Last night, I came to understand the famous Leopold line “the fierce green fire dying in her eyes...” in a most peculiar way. 

Ten days ago, we were wondering if it was time to put my horse down, and friends who knew more than I said "When it is time, you will know." He responded to our care, and I learned more about the bond of trust between an animal and human than in all of my 50 plus years of pet ownership over those next several days. (I will spare you the details.) By this past weekend, he was back out to pasture and while thin and certainly an old horse, I began to think that he might have another spring season left in him.

In 2009, a paper published in the journal Science reported that new archeological findings provided evidence that the horse (Equus ferus caballus) was likely domesticated about 1,000 years earlier than once thought.  The researchers traced the domestication back to the Botai Culture of Kazakhstan circa 5,500 years ago and their findings strongly suggest that horses were originally domesticated, not just for riding, but also to provide food, including milk.

Then in March, 2010, the Saudi Commission for Tourism & Antiquities began site survey and exploration at a newly discovered archeological site known as Al-Magar.[1] The 9000 year old culture is named al-Maqar after the site’s location.  Amongst the artifacts found were various stone figurines of horses causing some to hypothesize that equine domestication goes back even further in time.

The dog (Canis lupus familiaris) is believed to be first animal to be domesticated with some estimates ranging back as far as 30,000 B.C.  The first domesticated livestock came after the domestication of grains -- with sheep (Ovis orientalis aries) probably being first in the timeframe of 11,000 and 9,000 B.C.   Pigs (Sus scrofa domestica), goats (Capra aegagrus hircus), and cows (Bos primigenius Taurus – don’t you just love Latin names) likely joined the herds of our early ancestors around 8,000 B.C.  I wonder if those early pastoralists and farmers noted any changes in the eyes of the animals that became their possessions.  Did they learn anything new that had previously been known only to the animal and the mountain or the desert or the rainforest?  Or were our ancestors from long ago still wild themselves with fire in their eyes?

~~

As I was taking care of my big ol’ grey gelding Tusker (named after a Kenyan beer with an elephant as the company logo), I thought of domestication and of our responsibility to care for the animals that we have been entrusted with.  Late nights in a cold barn do weird things to you.  Animals have given us food, clothing, protection, modes of travel, and companionship for thousands of years.  We now even share pathogens and new diseases with each other.  For all of this, we have a responsibility to take care of not only our pets and livestock, but to protect the habitat and well-being of all the other animals that we have not managed to tame (thank goodness).  It is the least we can do in return for all that we have been given on this planet.

Last night, when we came home, Tusker was down in his stall and I knew it was time.  I don't know what happened since he was fine in the morning when we left.  We called the vet and I went into the stall to give him some calming head and ear rubs -- something he loved.  He strugged to raise his head to nuzzle me; he did, and then he fell back.  He tried to stand, especially when he heard Corey and my voices, but couldn't.  

Then I saw the flash of light leave his eyes.  There was a strange glaze that I had never seen before and I knew that he was leaving us.  He died before the vet could get there.  I can't explain it, but I swear that he waited on dying until we got home so that we could all say our goodbyes. 

The human-animal bond is strong and basically unexplainable in terms of the science that I am most familiar with.  But it doesn't really matter, does it?  Regardless of whether horses and humans forged that bond 16 or 5000 or 9000 years ago, the union is deep and real and quite a gift.

---

[1] See http://www.pasthorizonspr.com/index.php/archives/08/2011/domestication-of-horses-may-stretch-back-9000-years .
   

Tusker - the Big "T"

Ponderings on Conservation

A series of recent events and two blog posts by my friend Gerry Ellis (see 
http://greatapediaries.wordpress.com/2012/01/26/save-the-apes-and-you-save-the-forests/
and
http://greatapediaries.wordpress.com/2012/01/17/conservation-eventually-it-must-all-be-local/)
got me thinking.  So tonight, I put these thoughts in writing.

Gerry, I am so glad that you are calling attention to the importance of habitat as well as the wonderful animals that live there.  Saving habitat does seem like a "no-brainer", but apparently, that is not always the case.  I have met plenty of people who don’t understand the most basic of ecological principles, in part, because they tuned out science at a very young age.  For these people, the charismatic mega-fauna are especially important so as to tug at heart strings and some inner DNA sequence deep within our cells that still connects us to that which is wild.

I am relatively new to the conservation circles, but admit to being most surprised that some who are not new to the field don’t seem to grasp this fundamental principle of habitat either.  I find myself sitting through too many meetings where the focus is on developing conservation models and strategies using fancy software or the time is spent arguing about what should be the best indicator species for forest health, climate change impacts, or a measure of success of the conservation outcomes.  For the work I am involved with, it is often a bird species.  That makes sense; we know about the canary-in-the-coal-mine sensitivity of birds.  But sometimes the mega-fauna icon of interest is a game species (i.e. of economic/recreation importance).  I guess that makes sense.  Unlike many neotropical migrant songbirds, however, I suspect that the wild turkey (Meleagris gallopavo) and the omnipresent white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) are quite good at adapting to most anything we humans inflict on them.  (Interestingly though, the microscopic infectious proteins-gone-wild known as prions can bring down herds of deer causing Chronic Wasting Disease otherwise known in the scientific world as transmissible spongiform encephalopathy.)

For the stretch of the Appalachian Mountains where I work, the habitat is forest – the mixed deciduous woodlands that represent the southernmost reach of some northern species and the northward expanding boundary of some southern varieties.  Do these people not see the proverbial forest through the trees?  A satellite image of forest cover does not tell you if the stand is healthy.  It doesn’t tell you if this truly represents a priority parcel to target for a conservation easement.  It tells you if there is tree cover.  A simple walk through the woods tells a very different story -- a tale of the damage caused by decades of acid deposition, gypsy moth (Lymantria dispar) outbreaks (and the rapidly approaching Emerald Ash Borer or Agrilus planipennis ), unsustainable deer populations that have destroyed all the understory, except where invasive Japanese exotic shrubs are rapidly filling in the bare spaces.  And climate change “adaptation” is creating a remix of species – both in terms of habitat and inhabitants.

In many cases, those constructing the models haven’t actually walked the ridge they are trying to protect.  I am reminded of your recent post entitled “Conservation – Eventually It Must All Be Local”.  How true.  Computer models have their role (I have spent many years doing either protein or climate change modeling), but in conservation, it cannot be in isolation from "boots on the ground" assessments.  How else will we truly know the state of the habitat with its ever important soil type and structure, primary producers, and the truly unglamorous decomposers?

I had a series of emails this week from a resident of the mountain and self-taught ecologist expressing concerns about some “restoration” work that is happening on a stretch of the mountain that sadly, is part of a Superfund site.  The “experts” (not local) seem to have forgotten some basic ecological principles but that is another long story for another time.  But to make matters worse, they are disturbing a rather large stretch along the Appalachian Trail to access the site that will undergo restoration.  So to reiterate:  New habitat fragmentation along an important hiking trail that runs through a unique scrub habitat/native savannah to do some reforestation work at a neighboring site where there is no topsoil, vegetation, or decomposers, but a lot of heavy metal contamination.  Right.  No-brainer.  They have now created an ATV trail on the AT.

But here are the words of the resident that provided a spark of hope for the future of the conservation work along the ridge:

 "I am not a butterflier, real birder, or botanist, but I do love this mountain...No matter what the long range plan for the plant community is though certainly I would not like it to be known as "the road most taken".......by anything other than foot.”

Yes, indeed.  All conservation should really be local.

Prosperity ≠ Fossil Fuels

One day last summer at the Wildbranch Writing Workshop, Sandra Steingraber had those studying with her use a zip code for a place important in our lives and the Toxic Release Inventory[1] as starting points for a writing assignment. We were to examine the selected location through a new lens and react to the toxic secrets that may belie that special place.  As someone trained as a chemist, I am by no means a chemophobe.  In fact, I am often frustrated by those who call for a chemical-free world as it is simply not possible.  But having run through this exercise several times now for places in the state of Michigan where I grew up (this is starting to become an obsession), I am having to come to grips with some very dark stories about the Upper Midwestern places I still call home, even though I moved to Pennsylvania in 1986.  I am wrestling with new truths about places that I long thought of as pristine retreats, places that seem wilderness-like compared to the East Coast, the Mid-Atlantic region.  I now have a series of draft reactions to the hidden legacies of the mining, agriculture, and chemical industries historically important to Michigan, some yet too painful to publicly reveal.  And some are still in too raw form; the writing comes slowly as I struggle with the sense of deceit I feel when delving further into these chemical realities.  Below is my most recent exploration, preliminary thoughts spawned by all the media coverage of tar sands oil and my growing frustration that that we have become a nation of addicts  -- fossil fuel junkies who will stop at nothing to get the next fix.

~~

In the summer of 2010, thousands of gallons of oil from tar sands spilled into a tributary of the Kalamazoo River and surrounding wetlands in Michigan.  The accounts vary, but numbers as high as 840,000 gallons have been reported.[2]  This spill, caused by a burst in an Enbridge Energy pipeline, likely didn’t catch the eye of the public – maybe because we were more focused on the BP oil spill disaster in the Gulf of Mexico that occurred earlier that year just months after the Deepwater Horizon drilling rig went into action.  Maybe the media coverage was scant in areas outside of Michigan.  Or maybe, given that there is already a Superfund Site on the Kalamazoo River[3] people figured it really didn’t matter anymore.  Nevertheless, this incident foreshadows what could happen if the Keystone XL pipeline is built. 

A year later, the waterway was still closed to the public and residents claim that there have been significant health impacts.[4] 

Perhaps even more troubling to me, as someone who spent almost three decades living in Michigan including my formative years as a child, is the fact that this oil spill was not an isolated event.  According to a 2010 report entitled Assault on America: A Decade of Petroleum Company Disaster, Pollution, and Profit, the state of Michigan ranks in the top 10 states with the most pipeline accidents.  And who thinks of this as an oil state?

Besides the risk of such nasty spills that destroy habitat, kill wildlife, and very likely sicken humans, the production and refining of sands oil is energy-and water intensive.  And, of course, burning of the refined product releases significant amounts of greenhouse gases.  A “game-over proposition for climate change” according to James Hansen of NASA’s Goddard Institute and a world renowned climate scientist speaking of the Keystone XL pipeline project to bring Alberta tar sands oil to Texas.

If you are a climate change skeptic, then think of the less-abstract-than-climate-change toxic implications.  The refining and burning of fuels from tar sand oils release poisonous mercury and arsenic at higher levels compared to conventional oil.  To put a human face to the impact of these contaminants, read some of the stories of people living the legacy of tar sand processing in Detroit.[5]  Multiple diagnoses and deaths of cancer.  Environmental injustices.  Nose bleeds, asthma, emphysema, hypertension, sleep apnea.

I am still not fearful of chemicals.  I understand that there are differences between statistical and perceived risk, and that there are precautions one should take when working around hazardous chemicals.  I know how to look up information on Material and Safety Data Sheets, and I am familiar with the Community Right to Know Act -- legislation aimed at protecting the public.  But many people, in fact most of the public, those community members most in need of knowing, do not know these things and have no ability to protect themselves.  They do not know to grab gloves or a mask or respirator; they cannot move to a safer place, if such a place still exists.

As I wrote recently in a Facebook response to an article describing how we are tearing up pristine places to secure fracking sand to blast underground to free natural gas:  We are tearing up the landscape for sand to blast underground only to allow the buried gases to escape into pipelines and water tables.  We blow the tops off mountains to get to coal buried underneath and extract oil from tar in sands in Canada to pipe to wherever.  We are drilling miles below the ocean for a few more drops of oil. Insanity.  But I am not sure we will ever stop defacing and rearranging the planet until it is gone, all gone.

Yes, oil (and the other fossil fuels) have become “the lubricant of the world economy” as was stated in a recent CNN article about Iran threatening to block shipping through the Strait of Hormuz.[6]  But when the industrial profit reports fail to consider the externalities, the costs to human health and welfare, and the damages to nature and our natural resources, things have gone terribly wrong with “the system”.  This is not national prosperity.  This is indeed insanity.

~~

I started down this dismal line of internet searching because I vaguely remembered there being dark, strange looking sands in the Copper Country region of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  I wondered if they could possibly be tar sands deposits.  They are not.  These are stamp sands, left over from the processing of ores; in this case, they are from the processes used to purify copper.  These sands typically contain traces of toxic heavy metals.  Reportedly, aquatic life in the Keweenaw Waterway (or Portage Canal) is diminished in the areas of these sands.  Sigh.  That is yet another zip code that I need to look up.

---

[1] http://iaspub.epa.gov/triexplorer/tri_release.chemical

[2] For example, see

http://www.nwf.org/Global-Warming/Policy-Solutions/Drilling-and-Mining/Tar-Sands/Michigan-Oil-Spill.aspx. 

[3] http://www.epa.gov/region5/cleanup/kalproject/index.htm

[4]For example, see  http://www.mlive.com/news/kalamazoo/index.ssf/2011/08/study_shows_no_long-term_healt.html

[5] Toxic Tar Sands stories from the state:

http://www.sierraclub.org/dirtyfuels/tar-sands/faces/michigan/default.aspx

[6] http://www.cnn.com/2011/12/28/world/meast/iran-hormuz/index.html?hpt=hp_c1

On Animal Prosperity - a nod to the Great Ape Diaries Project and the work of the MGVP

Gerry Ellis, a renowned photographer, has worked for a number of organizations including the National Audubon Society, BBC Wildlife, New York Times, and National Geographic.  (You can learn more about him at http://gerryellis.net/ellis.html.)  I had the great fortune to meet him through the Audubon TogetherGreen Fellows program (http://www.togethergreen.org/people/fellows.aspx) .  Gerry is currently refocusing his attention on the Great Ape Diaries project (http://greatapediaries.wordpress.com/about/) – a project that he began working on in the early 1990s. 


Like so many charismatic mega fauna, gorillas are highly endangered facing a host of threats.  They have the added bad fortune to live in areas that have a long history of poverty, war, corruption, and genocide.  Recently, media attention has been given to the topic of human rights and “conflict metals” – the technology industry’s equivalent of the blood diamond story (for example, see: http://www.npr.org/2011/12/20/143975840/new-law-aims-to-shine-light-on-conflict-metals).

Last week, a YouTube video about a troop of gorillas entering a camp near Bwindi National Park, Uganda and having close encounters with humans hit the social media circuit through Facebook and other channels.  It went viral due to the “oh wow” factor it had and most likely had a number of people looking into gorilla-sighting tourism opportunities.   Given Gerry’s familiarity with endangered apes, it wasn’t surprising that he would a) know about the video-gone-viral and b) have something to say about it.  What was surprising, to me at least, was the issue of concern was not one that would immediately come to mind – even amongst many conservationists.  You can read his blog post at: http://greatapediaries.wordpress.com/2011/12/29/gorilla-tourism-look-but-dont-touch-or-get-touched/#comment-46.

Gerry and I occasionally chat electronically about a range of topics.  I am deeply grateful to the TogetherGreen program for enabling these types of rich, inspiring, and hopefully lasting personal connections.  Anyway, Gerry’s blog posts and Facebook messages often prompt me to send him a message.  Today, his entry motivated me to draft a much longer response that I posted as a comment on his blog site.  But I thought I would also share these thoughts on my own too-often neglected blog.  It makes more sense if you read Gerry’s post first....

Gerry, I am glad that you posted this message of concern and wish there was a way to get the points you raise out to the masses who watched the YouTube video.  As like countless others, I did watch the experience with some awe and pondered what it would be like to see these extraordinary animals in the wild (not necessarily in the camp; I had that experience with a rogue elephant in the Maasai Mara once).  I even envied for a moment, my vet who is currently on a gorilla trek in Uganda.  But I kept thinking about a different sort of risk than you note; these animals are wild and, as such, unpredictable and possibly dangerous.  The person featured in the video might have been “lucky” to have such a close encounter, but he was also lucky that no harm came from it to him.  We don’t know how the apes were impacted.

You quote from the Mountain Gorilla Veterinary Project (MGVP) report that raises an important dilemma too seldom considered by the mega-fauna adoring public:   “Although human proximity to mountain gorillas is essential for their conservation, also crucial is minimizing the risk for human-to–great ape transmission of respiratory pathogens.”  I teach a course each spring entitled “The Impact of Technology on Diet and Disease”.  We talk about the origins of disease – often through the wild animal/human interface.  Students read pieces from Jared Diamond about the negative impacts of the domestication of animals on human health and from Laurie Garrett (“The Coming Plague”).  But I hadn’t previously discussed this in the reverse direction with these students; that is, the risk we pose to the animal populations.  I suppose if this was one of my conservation courses, I would have thought to do this.  But now I will be sure to call attention to this in this human-focused course too!

So how then, do we raise awareness of the dire need for conservation in general and, in particular, protection of endangered species?  Animals, especially ones that look and act like us or ones that appear too cute to resist, can tug at heartstrings in ways that scientific data cannot.  As a plant scientist, I also know that other species, no matter how beautiful or critical in the ecological web of life, do not have the same sort of power to capture the imagination and interest of the masses in the way that certain large vertebrates do.

I have a strong aversion to zoos, but many animal biologists claim that this is the only exposure to “wildlife” that many people have and thus, can be an important education and conservation tool.  A few years ago in a Conservation Biology course, we had a rather heated discussion about the value of taxidermy animal displays in mega stores like Cabelas.  (I am not opposed to hunting; just trophy hunting.)  And while a trip to Kenya years ago was a childhood dream come true for me, I remember being disgusted by some of the guides/tour companies chasing after animals for their clients, disrupting the animals at rest or in the midst of a hunt just for the rude humans to get a closer look or a better picture -- a trophy of a different sorts.  [I was pleased that on the game drive on my recent trip to South Africa (a Christmas present for my son who also attended COP17), the guide had the utmost respect for the animals and started by saying that we were going into their territory and had to remember to respect that.  No chasing but rather viewing with reverence in quiet, and often from a distance.  No radio calls to other vehicles. No rude interruptions.]

Ecotourism can be good for conservation, but too often caters to the elite, adventure-seeking people and doesn’t put habitat and wildlife protection as the top priority.  Game preserves in Africa can be well-intended, but humans will be humans!  I simply don’t have the answer to this one.  As someone who dislikes the propaganda that PETA uses, I doubt that we want to start showing videos of animals dying of human-transmitted diseases as an awareness campaign strategy!

I don’t know if you have heard of the play entitled “Tooth and Claw” by Pennsylvania playwright Michael Hollinger.  If you ever get a chance to see it – do so.  Set on the Galapagos Islands, the script is filled with environmental science and conservation biology (accurately described), and raises many complex questions including that of which species (including humans) are most important to protect. There is a wonderful debate about removing the "invasive" goats from the islands in order to save the Giant Tortoise from both the perspective of the scientists and the inhabitants of the islands who could describe all sorts of uses for goats, but no practical ones for the tortoise.  They also point out that everything on the island was an "immigrant" including the people. The descriptions of natural selection, species gone extinct, and the tributes to Darwin were beautifully worded.  The author weaves together themes of exploitation of ocean fisheries, poverty, extinction, culling populations, abortion, biodiversity, and the too often unheard voice of the people without power or money.  Ah, but I digress.

I must now go make a donation to MGVP!

A letter to my students

Greetings from Washington D.C.

I am surrounded here by a group of inspiring conservationists at my conference - my fellow Audubon TogetherGreen Fellows.  (For information on the program, see http://www.togethergreen.org/people/FellowsMore.aspx.  You can learn more about my cohort at http://www.togethergreen.org/people/fellowsArchive.aspx - the 2010 class.)  

Outside the National Museum of the American Indian where we are meeting, the Occupy D.C. protests are getting more unruly and the police are becoming less tolerant.  Over 12,000 people attended the protests on Sunday about the Keystone XL pipeline, joined by a lot of anti-fracking activists.  

 

I learned yesterday that of the $290 billion in philanthropy in America last year, more than half came from the middle class, working class, and poor people.  About 70% of households contribute tot 5 to 10 organizations per year.  The median amount contributed per household is $1300 to $2000 per year.  [Source:  www.givingusa.org]  Only 5% comes from corporations.  Bequests led to 7% of the donated money; in other words, dead people donated more than the rich corporations!  Will we ever be able to redistribute the wealth when poor people donate more of their money as a percentage of their income than the rich?

The docent at the museum gave us a wonderful tour and we had a rather emotional conversation about the ongoing misconceptions (and ignorance) about native peoples, the distortions of history that many of us have been taught, and the ongoing impact of discrimination and flawed policy on the lives of native peoples today -- so many examples of social and environmental justice.  I can't even begin to do the stories justice in trying to retell them.  The docent, probably in his early 30's, spoke honestly about his anger that people in his country from previous generations had done what they did - essentially genocide - and how difficult it can be to have no one alive to direct this anger at.  So instead, he has devoted his life to trying to educate the public, show the multiple "truths" about history (he had a great example of how native people view Presidents Lincoln and Nixon differently than whites), and dispel stereotypes.

I was part of wonderful discussion late into the night about the impact that these current activist movements will have (if any), how they compare to the civil rights movements and anti-war protests in the 1960's and 70's, and whether or not large conservation groups have also been bought out by corporate America.  One in our group has been a National Geographic photographer documenting impact on wildlife and landscapes across the globe.  He has documentation that despite all the environmental efforts since 1970, things are not improving overall.  We had a long discussion about whether sustainable development, or balance, are even possible given the ever-growing population.

From the news this week:

There are reports that the earthquakes in Oklahoma may be a result of fracking operations there, similar to claims that have come from Texas.  The state also was hit by tornadoes yesterday, after record-breaking heat this summer.

The National Climatic Data Center reports that Hurricane Irene killed 45 people and caused at least $7 billion in damage.  Tropical Storm Lee killed 13 and lead to at least $1 billion in damage.  This  makes 2011 quite a costly and deadly year for hurricanes and tropical storms, the 7th busiest for named storms since record-keeping began in 1851. And this added to the fact that by June that we had the record for extreme weather events.

The droughts in Texas continue.

Just a freak year?  Or part of a "new normal"?

Things are not looking good for the upcoming U.N. climate negotiations (COP17):

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kelly-rigg/climate-politics-grow-cur_b_1079147.html?ref=green

One difference that came up in our late night conversation is that in the late 1960's, people protested to save their lives (they had a draft card and didn't want to go to Vietnam).  Paul Ehrlich's book "The Population Bomb" had come out warning about the perilous impact of growing population back then, but many didn't believe they would live long enough to see that doom and gloom if they went to war.  Not surprisingly, if you are from that generation, you look at the Occupy Movement a bit differently than young people today since you, my students, haven't seen major activist movements and have grown up in calmer times.

I don't have the answers, but hope that we can continue to ponder these issues and collectively discuss our options for the future.  I would love to hear your thoughts on some of these issues.

DWH

On the eve of the end of daylight savings

Tusker (the "Big T") enjoying a fall day earlier in the season - Photo by Corey Husic

Surrounded by a pile of grading, I decided it was time to have some “me-time" this afternoon.  It was simply too beautiful a day in late autumn not to.  So after a long grooming session, my aging gelding and I took to the trails for a leisurely saunter through meadows filled with the glistening gray seeds of Little Bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) and goldenrod (Solidago spp.).  The ashen seed color was akin to that of my horse before I brushed the field dirt and dried mud off.  Flea-ticked grey is the official coat term, but when clean, he looks pretty white to me.

The sky was unmarred with clouds, that beautiful pristine kind of blue.  The remnants of the anomalous snowstorm of last weekend were gone except for the new brush piles already inhabited by sparrows and some downed trees across the trails.  The “Big T” and I approach the first of these new barriers slowly.  Although he hasn’t jumped in years, he was trained as a hunter, so I am always conscious of the fact that he might not simply step over a log.  And he was the type that jumped all fences as if they were at least three feet.  But today, he turned and decided to reroute through the greenbrier (Smilax spp.).  He didn’t seem to mind the spines.  I did.  I could do without this plant even though it is a native and oddly enough, closely related to Daylilies, Lilies, and Yucca.  Even the deer rarely eat it.  But it is my neighbor, so we tolerate each other.

I could hear Bluebirds, but could not see them against the matching sky. Numerous Golden-crowned Kinglets were playing unusually low to the ground today – some in the new brush piles and some eating wild grapes off vines that had fallen from the weight of last week’s snow.  Fourteen inches we had, even before the first hard frost of the season.  Odd weather, especially for October, but that was not the case today.  A flawless early November day for plants to go on with their transition to dormancy, for Downy Woodpeckers to rummage for insects in the newly exposed vascular cambium where large limbs snapped off, and for me to find a sort of mental renewal.

Gone are most of the tree leaves on the north side of the mountain.  But yesterday, I noted quite a range of reds and golds still decorating the south-facing side of the ridge and, in town, in the valley, the leaves were almost at peak color condition.  That is on the trees which are still standing.  A few oaks in our woods are still holding on to their rust-orange ornamentation.  Normally, even more of these oaks would still have their fall foliage, but these too fell victim to the storm.  But other plants, non-natives mostly, still have green leaves.  The lilacs, along with the invasives—honeysuckle, olives, and barberry—are amongst these.  A lack of a killing freeze to date, this November 5^th.  By the barn, one of my lilacs even has a few blossoms!  Confused shrubs indeed. 

Tonight, we turn the clocks back, so my time outside in daylight will become increasingly limited for a few months thanks to the demands of the academic workplace.  Up early, home late on too many days.  But today was about a gentle big soul and me meandering through new routes to avoid obstructions, listening to the high pitch sounds of winter resident birds, marveling at the yellow Witch hazel flowers (Hamamelis virginiana).  Witch, from wiche or wice, meaning "pliant" or "bendable”, but Wikipedia tells me that hazel twigs were once used as divining rods, possibly influencing the name of this shrub.  Even though Witch hazel is not a true hazel.

Pliant and resilient – these woods and fields.  Tolerating snow and cold and hot and drought, always changing, but always remaining—remaining for me, enabling a bit of solace after a frenzied week.  Pliant.  Not the “easily influenced” definition, but rather, as the antonym of inflexible, rigid, stiff.  If only nature could teach us all to bend a little in our lives, our daily routines, our attitudes.