We’re excited to welcome our 2021 seasonal stewardship crew! Katri Studtmann, Max Dunn, and Parker Maynard joined us mid-April and will be out in the parks doing much-needed ecological restoration work until the end of September. Since starting a few weeks ago they have already helped with prescribed burn, pulled garlic mustard, spread native plant seed, and maintained our native plant landscaping. Each has written an introduction, so keep reading to learn about the unique background and skills they bring to our parks. Drop a comment to help us welcome our crew!
Hi, my name is Katri Studtmann, and I am one of Oakland Township’s Land Stewardship Technicians for the summer! I graduated from Michigan Technological University in May 2020 with a degree in Biological Sciences with a concentration in Ecology. During college, I played for the Women’s Soccer Team, and I also was a part of a Fish Biology and Ecology Lab.
During my senior year, I did an honors research project in that lab. My project looked at the effects of removing the upper maxilla bone of brook trout to see if it was a viable alternative bone to complete microchemistry analysis. Microchemistry analysis is important for species of conservation concern like brook trout so that the researchers can know which streams and creeks they need to protect where brook trout spawn. A few summers ago, I worked for the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center of Minnesota as an Avian Intern taking care of sick, injured, and orphaned baby birds. During this internship, I had the chance to work with many different bird species and learn what many baby bird species look like. This past fall, I worked for the University of Minnesota as a Research Forest Ecology Intern working on their B4WARMED project, which looks at the future effects of climate change on the native trees of Minnesota through artificially warming the soil and air.
I hope to go to graduate school soon studying direct and indirect anthropogenic effects on the environment. As a kid, I was curious about anything and everything outside. This curiosity led me to study ecology in college which allowed me to learn and explore even more outside. In my free time, I enjoy mountain biking, skiing, camping, hiking, running, and playing soccer.
My name is Max Dunn, I am currently studying Crop & Soil Science at Michigan State and will be graduating with a bachelor’s degree in December 2022. I spend most of my free time hiking through the meadows and woodlands of Lake Orion in search of various native organisms, with most of my attention spent on wildflowers and birds. My passion for these topics stem from a geology class I took in high school with Mr. P. He would guide us into the seemingly uncharted territory of Bald Mountain State Park twice a week to reveal and teach us about the biotic/abiotic diversity in nature. Up until this class I spent my time outdoors in areas such as the quaint lake I live besides, my yard, or an athletic field, so these natural woodlands were completely new to me. I was amazed at how much there was to see and experience when you simply slow down and increase your awareness.
I started exploring different parks on my own time and soon realized I preferred meadows over woodlands and began spending a lot of time in Orion Oaks County Park. I took up the hobby of identifying Michigan’s native forbs, dazed by all the different plant structures and searching for new ones whenever I could. To my dismay, I realized that there were as many invasive species as natives, and that the natives were not as diverse as I once thought. Realizing these natural areas were lacking in diversity and being invaded by non-native species pushed me to get involved with organizations that value these topics and work at restoring the meadows and woodlands near me.
After attending a presentation by Ben two winters ago I set a long-term goal to get employed as a Natural Areas Steward to learn about the restoration process and bring native diversity back. I completed this goal in April and will be working along the Oakland Township Parks and Rec crew until August! I am grateful to be given this opportunity and look forward to maintaining and restoring the beautiful nature areas of our township.
I have always been particularly interested in the power of plants. When I was young, I was fortunate enough to learn about the wonders of gardening right from my own backyard. I was amazed at the process of creating food simply from planting and taking care of seeds. I couldn’t believe that produce didn’t just come from the grocery store, but from the earth itself!
Growing up in Oakland County has afforded me many other opportunities to appreciate the outdoors and our state’s many great natural resources. I learned many practical skills and made some great memories while camping away from home. I particularly took interest in the many trees and other plants I had never seen in the suburbs. These experiences helped solidify my passion for nature and later lead me to realize the importance of working in the field of conservation.
While attending college at Eastern Michigan University, I reignited my love of gardening by helping to manage the community garden on campus. It was here that I met some students who introduced me to the university’s Environmental Science program. Originally planning on studying music, I had never given a second thought to a bachelor of science. However, I realized I would love nothing more than the opportunity to pursue a career to help preserve our planet’s natural wonders for future generations.
Since graduating, I have learned a lot through working with a variety of conservation-based organizations and professionals who share my passion for the environment. I have experienced conservation work in many forms, from helping manage parks and natural areas to leading educational interpretive nature programs. I am especially glad to be back working with the Oakland Township Parks and Recreation stewardship crew for my second season. With this experience, I hope to give back to the state that has provided me with so many great outdoor memories and recreational opportunities, and better help determine my future path towards graduate school and beyond.
In mid-April, I got a tip from Dr. Ben VanderWeide, our township’s Natural Areas Stewardship Manager, that he’d come across a yellow haze floating above the ground in the woods at Stony Creek Ravine Nature Park. Ben identified it as a large colony of Spicebush (Lindera bezoin), the biggest number of these shrubs together that he had ever seen. That was enough enticement for me to don my hiking shoes and head out the door!
Ben gave me rough directions – head west into the woods from the north fenced wetland until you come to several vernal pools where the land begins to rise. No trails exist in that very wet woods, so I hopped over rivulets, climbed over logs, skirted small vernal pools and finally saw a yellow band of light in the distance. Once I got closer, I was enchanted. A wide arc of soft yellow floated and nodded against a cold, gray sky, like a gentle golden light in a dim room.
I’d seen photos of Spicebush flowers but never seen them myself. As I came closer to the bushes, I realized that thousands of tiny yellow puffball blossoms along hundreds of Spicebush branches were the source of the golden cloud.
Of course, I had to learn more about this native shrub! Those tiny yellow blossoms, looking much like well-buttered popcorn, evidently smell sweet. Drat! I’d neglected to sniff them! And when crushed, their scent is described as aromatic and spicy, hence its name. In moist understory, they most often multiply from their roots as they did in this location, forming large colonies.
Before I ever saw this native shrub, I had seen a creature which counts on it to raise its young – the Spicebush Swallowtail Butterfly (Papilio troilus). This dark swallowtail can be mistaken for the Eastern Black Swallowtail (Papilio polyxenes) or the Pipevine Swallowtail (Battus philenor). The field marks that identify them for me are the blue blush on the top (dorsal) side of the hind wings and a double row of orange spots on the hind wings’ lower (ventral) side. According to Wikipedia, the males do a lively courtship dance for the females which I’d dearly love to witness! Maybe I’ll catch the performance here when the weather warms up.
Female Spicebush Butterflies are wildly attracted to Spicebush and lay their eggs on the leaves more often than on other shrubs. Once hatched, a small, brown first instar is protected from predators by closely resembling bird droppings! The tiny caterpillar chews into the leaf, settles on its midrib,and exudes some silk. As the silk dries, it curls the leaf around the caterpillar, providing daytime protection; the caterpillar exits its tubular abode to eat, but only at night.
The later instars use much more dramatic mimicry to avoid predators like birds, dragonflies and spiders. These larger caterpillars turn green and orange and have a design on their thorax that makes them look something like a snake. To add to the effect they have an osmeterium, a structure on the first sections of the thorax that they can raise to look like the forked tongue of a snake! (Check out the link!) They then move to the lower branches of the Spicebush to spin a silk pupa.
Many thanks to the inaturalist.org photographers below who shared their photos, since I’ve yet to spot a Spicebush Swallowtail caterpillar. These butterflies generally produce three generations each year, so I’ll be looking for them along with the dancing males!
On my way into and out of the woods, I came across a wonderful collection of early spring woodland wildflowers. Many of our forest wildflowers have been decimated by White-tailed Deer(Odocoileus virginianus), so seeing large patches of Spring Beauty, sunshine spots of Marsh Marigolds and other native flowers sent me home with a smile.
When I returned to the woods ten days later, the golden haze had disappeared and the glorious Spicebush colony had become just another green-leaved denizen of the woods. But soon the first butterflies will appear. They’ll flutter and forage in the woods and the fields beyond. And we can hope that they’ll leave behind some young to keep the life cycle going. I’m cheered on a gray spring day that this native shrub thrives at Stony Creek Ravine Nature Park, and that its golden haze will host its namesake butterflies for years to come.
Once in a while, I come across something that I’d love to share but that doesn’t call for a longer blog. So I decided to try out shorter pieces that I’m calling “Footnotes,” i.e. a little extra nature information that might intrigue or delight you as it did me. Here’s a discovery Dr. Ben VanderWeide, our township Natural Areas Stewardship Manager, shared with me in the last ten days.
Native “spring ephemerals” are wildflowers that surge up out of the earth in early spring before the trees leaf out so they can capture as much sunlight as possible. On April 13, at Ben’s prompting, I hiked to the crest of the sledding hill at Lost Lake Nature Park to see one of my favorite ephemerals festooning the landscape with dashes of lavender blue. Hepatica blossoms (Hepatica americana) don’t last long and the snow this week may have shortened their season. But I wanted you to know about them so we can all look for them again next spring.
Fortunately, some species of native bees emerge from their winter nooks and crannies at the same time as the ephemerals and buzz directly to their favorite wildflowers. As they forage for nectar, their bodies become dusted with yellow pollen. Once they mate, they stash some of that sticky, nutritious food in their nest to feed the next generation of native solitary bees. Despite their short adult lives – most live only 4-6 weeks above ground – these native bees do a fine job of pollinating as they rush from blossom to blossom, shedding bits of pollen as they go. Nice reciprocal relationship evolution came up with, eh?
The little bee above is a solitary bee from the genus Ceratina called the Small Carpenter Bee. Solitary bees are not aggressive, because unlike European Honeybees (Apis mellifera), they don’t need to defend a colony filled with honey, workers, larvae and a queen. So our native bees rarely sting and provide crucial pollination services for native plants like Hepatica.
In our region, these native bees usually produce only one generation. Adult solitary bees emerge from last year’s nest and once mated, the female buzzes the area seeking a pithy, upright stem from one of last summer’s perennials. They chew the pith from the center of the stem and use it to make separate cells within the stem, provisioning each with a pollen packet to feed the larvae once the eggs hatch. If such stems aren’t available close by, they may excavate small cavities in rotting wood. I’ve learned lately that those of us who value native plants and bees should leave hollow, dry, sturdy stems standing after the flowers die back. If we cut off about one-third of the stem and leave the rest, we’re creating nesting material for next spring’s hatch of harmless and very beneficial native bees!
Despite its name, the larger Carpenter Bee above (genus Xylocopa) is not a relative of either the Small Carpenter Bee (genus Ceratina) or the Bumblebee (genus Bombus) which it resembles. The shiny and hairless abdomen of a Carpenter bee lacks the stiff hair and fuzzy appearance of a Bumblebee’s abdomen. A Bumblebee flicks out its very long tongue to reach into deeper flowers. But a Carpenter Bee’s shorter mouth parts make it a very effective pollinator for open-faced, shallow flowers like Hepatica. Like most of our native bees, the Carpenter Bee rarely stings. The males will occasionally buzz around us while looking for a mate but have no stingers. The females only sting if handled or hassled. But Carpenter Bees can present us humans with a different challenge.
These bees nest by drilling neat round holes on the undersides of wood – like a limb or the cedar railings on our deck, I’m sorry to say! Once inside, they excavate a tunnel which runs with the wood grain and then construct separate chambers stocked with pollen for each egg they lay. Woodpeckers eat Carpenter Bees (ouch!). According to Wikipedia, if Bluejays (Cyanocitta cristata) detect the sounds of bee larvae within the wood, they may further excavate the bee’s neatly drilled hole in their search for another snack – doing more damage than the bee did! We’ll try to encourage our Carpenter female to move her linear nursery to the plethora of trees in our woods. I’ve read that she may object to the scent of citrus oil so we may spray some beneath our railings this spring. Wish us luck. I think we’ll need it. If it doesn’t work, oh well. Killing native pollinators isn’t an option for us. So I imagine that we’ll fill the holes beneath the railings once the young have left and go on with our lives.
So that’s the first “Footnote.” I hope you enjoyed this inaugural foray into a new format. Many thanks to Dr. Gary Parsons, Collection Manager and Bug House Director at the Entomology Department at Michigan State University for helping me again with bee identification. Please watch for these shorter pieces sprinkled between the longer blogs throughout the year. I’m sure Ben and I will come across many more small wonders to share!
At Blue Heron Environmental Area, a Moist Patch Becomes an Impressive Pond!
Last fall, Dr. Ben VanderWeide, Oakland Township’s Natural Areas Stewardship Manager, worked with with the US Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) to restore a wetland in the north section of Blue Heron Environmental Area along Rochester Road. Ben had noted a significant wet area in the current agricultural field and guessed that years ago, a farmer working there had drained a wetland. The hope was that building a small berm would capture and hold the water running off the field, filtering out nutrients and sediment before it entered the beautiful wet forest immediately to the west. Meri Holm, a wildlife biologist with USFWS, designed a small berm that was installed in late September 2020.
Well! On March 31, I stopped by to see what that smallish excavation at the north end of the field looked like now – and here’s what I saw!
Needless to say, I was astonished! This graceful expanse of water now stretched far beyond the original excavation site! As my binoculars swept across this blue expanse, I thought I saw two small lumps on a log near the pond’s center. I approached slowly and discovered that the two lumps were two sleeping ducks and not only ducks, but ones I’d only seen once before, American Black Ducks (Anas rubripes). Though I stood near the road’s edge, they moved off the log to swim slowly down the pond. Once there, they tucked their heads beneath their wings and went back to sleep while floating.
American Black Ducks have traveled a hard road to survive. According to local birder extraordinaire, Ruth Glass, their numbers plummeted during the 1930’s when southern Ontario, Canada converted large areas of wetlands to agriculture. These changes meant a loss of habitat for the Black Ducks but created favorable habitat for Mallards. Mallards and Black Ducks can interbreed and since Mallards evidently have the stronger genes, biologists feared that the Black Ducks would slowly become extinct. Mixing with Mallards as much as they do, Black Ducks also were taken in large numbers by duck hunters until 1982. At that time, the Maine Audubon Society and the US Humane Society sued to protect the Black Duck and as a result, today their numbers have stabilized! A victory for conservation and the American Black Duck! So here they are now enjoying the new wetland envisioned by Ben and supported by our Parks and Recreation Commission. Excellent news!
I came back several times to watch from a distance to see if the Black Ducks stuck around. A week later, they were tails-up in the water, eating greedily while being watched by a pair of Canada Geese (Branta canadensis) who’d stopped by that afternoon. The ducks may ultimately search out a more secluded wetland in which to nest, though. Cornell’s All About Birds website says they prefer a “well-concealed site” and this lovely wetland is too new to have developed much cover for them this spring.
A few days later, I noticed some smaller shorebirds at the north end of the pond. I thought at first they were Killdeer but as I began to pull away in my car, I realized they were much taller birds. And then I saw their bright yellow legs and quickly pulled off the road to investigate. To my delight, two shorebirds had discovered this new wetland – what appeared to be a Greater Yellowlegs (Tringa melanoleuca), possibly accompanied by a Lesser Yellowlegs (Tringa flavipes) to the left in the stubble. (It’s camouflaged quite nicely so look carefully!)
I consulted with Ben VanderWeide and Ruth Glass and we all felt confident that the one standing on the log is a Greater Yellowlegs. It’s a larger bird with a long sturdy bill and now, in its breeding plumage, it has bars extending behind its leg. The one to the left in the stubble may be the Lesser Yellowlegs because it appears to be smaller, a bit daintier and has a slimmer bill – but we can’t be sure when so much of its body is hidden. Both birds spend the winter in marshes along the southern edge of the U.S. and pass through Michigan on their way to mosquito-rich bogs and fens in or near the boreal forests of northern Canada. They are partial to shallow wetlands in fields as they travel, so keep an eye out for them as they migrate through our area.
On each visit, I saw other water-loving birds hanging out at the new wetland as well. In the cattails near the road, a pair of Red-winged Blackbirds were doing a bit of foraging and courting. The male of course burst forth periodically in his signature trill to announce his territory. He used a lot force to do so, plumping himself up, raising his red epaulets and shouting out his call. The female listened calmly from a stalk a bit farther down the road. She looks very different from the male – richly striped in dark brown and white. [Click photos to enlarge.]
Much of the area south of this restored wetland is still being planted by a local farmer. The crops prevent the growth of invasive plants until the area can eventually be restored to prairie. But a diverse prairie seed mix with native grasses and wildflowers will be installed in the uplands around the restored wetland later this spring! Down in last year’s stubble near the pond, several Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus) scooted about, probably negotiating territory, foraging and getting a look at potential mates. Killdeer prefer to nest on bare ground near a wetland, so we’ll see if they can find a suitable spot at the wetland this year. I’m fond of the Killdeer’s dapper look and its orange eye rim that matches the splash of orange over its tail in flight.
I’m excited that we’re seeing waterfowl and shorebirds in this wetland during the first spring after its restoration! It looks like Ben’s idea is already bearing fruit.
Restored Wetlands at Stony Creek Ravine Nature Park Become a Waterfowl Sanctuary
Back in 2019, the Oakland Township Parks and Recreation Commission used its Land Preservation Fund, with a matching grant from the Michigan Natural Resources Trust Fund, to extend Stony Creek Ravine Nature Park by 208 acres of former agricultural fields and forests. The Michigan Department of Environment, Great Lakes and Energy (EGLE) holds the wetland “conservation easements,” there. They began the project by constructing low berms and breaking the agricultural drainage tiles, allowing water to again flow to the surface. They also planted thousands of wetland shrubs grasses, sedges and wildflowers within the protective fence that they installed to protect the young plants from voracious deer and us humans. Once the wetlands emerged within the conservation easement, water-loving birds wasted no time in making use of them. When I arrived in early April this year, flocks of birds were scattered across the ponds.
Through my binoculars, I was delighted to see at least four species of ducks in the flocks. I walked down close to the fence and thrust my 400mm lens through an opening, trying to see which species were visiting. The first ones I saw that made me grin were the Northern Shovelers (Spatula clypeata). Their large bills reveal the origin of their name. These dabbling ducks swish their heads from side to side under water to filter out seeds, tiny crustaceans and invertebrates with the comb-like edges of their very large bills. Once they rest and recharge, the Shovelers will head north to breed in Canada. It’s wonderful that these wetlands that were drained long ago have emerged again to provide these striking birds with a safe stopover on their way north.
Three other species of dabbling ducks cruised about the conservation ponds, but some were far off within the protected area and too small for me to take a decent photo. So I’m grateful to the generous photographers at iNaturalist.org who shared their photos with me below.
The Green-winged Teal (Anas carolinensis), the smallest duck in North America, is such a beautiful little bird. I watched a flock of these little ducks flow down to a distant pond within the fence. The small patches of florescent green on their secondary wing feathers (not visible below) sparkled brilliantly in the late afternoon sun. The vertical stripe on the “shoulder” of the male Green-winged Teal also helps identify them from a distance.
Blue-winged Teal (Spatula discors) also joined the the flocks of ducks exploring these restored wetlands. The males’ large, white crescents on either side of their bills make them easy to spot from a distance. Aren’t those speckled bodies amazing, too? These small ducks breed in our area before returning to the southern coasts or the Caribbean in the fall.
Out in the tall grass within the conservation easement, a flock of Sandhill Cranes (Grus canadensis) foraged quietly together. One lone crane stood near me in the plowed field. As it kept an eye on me, I wondered if it was a sentinel or perhaps was just a less social member of the flock. Eventually, though, it flew down to join the others. Ruth Glass thought perhaps one pair that she saw here were looking for a nesting site. I’ll keep an eye out for that! I’d love to see a young crane start its life at Stony Creek Ravine Nature Park.
Recreating Lost Habitat
Time after time I’ve read that the numbers of various insects, birds, native plants and animals are declining dramatically. And most often the first reason given is “loss of habitat.” Native plants are being crowded out or even actively killed by invasive species that take over their habitat. Pollinators and other insects are in severe decline worldwide partly because the native plants on which their young must feed are disappearing from their habitats. The numbers of many birds are in a nosedive and what do scientists think is the cause? Right, one of the factors, along with climate change, is habitat lost to cultivation, drained wetlands, development and the proliferation of non-native plants.
But here in our little corner of the world, we’ve begun to recreate habitat. Abandoned farm fields full of non-native flowers, trees and shrubs are being reclaimed and transformed into rolling meadows of native wildflowers.
Residents are gradually introducing more native plants into their gardens, providing crucial sustenance for caterpillars which either mature into butterflies, moths and other pollinators or provide the best of baby food for hungry little nestlings who rely on them each spring.
In the wetlands that Ben and his stewardship team are restoring in the township, land once drained of its water now hold glistening pools that provide a haven, a food supply, a safe nesting area and a cool drink on a hot day to the creatures that share our landscape with us.
Nature spent eons carefully refining complex and closely interdependent native habitats. We humans have changed them dramatically, especially in the last two hundred years. The result has not been good for thousands of the creatures and plants that live with us here. Maybe we can’t reverse all the habit destruction around us. But here in Oakland Township, thanks to our Parks and Recreation Commission, the Land Preservation Fund and stewardship efforts, we are doing what we can. If we all continue to “do what we can,” who knows what we might be able to accomplish in restoring the environments that nature designed for us.
Will you forgive me if I take you back to February for a few minutes? Today it’s 60 degrees, the snow is melting even in the shadows and longer days remind us that the spring equinox is less than a week away. But I’d like to take you back for a few minutes to those days when, for me, walking the trails meant staring downward at icy ground to keep my footing. Calf-deep in February snow, I found myself prompted to recall a summer visitor. I took a turn toward a woodland pond and discovered a hidden world. And I saw and heard the harbingers of spring. Three snowy walks at Cranberry Lake Park lured me out into another realm for a few hours, where I mentally traveled to the past, through the present, and into the near future. So I hope you’ll strap on your mental snowshoes and join me for one last winter outing.
A Warm Memory on a Snowy Day
The trail into the park in February was a bit of a trudge one afternoon, negotiating my way among the icy footprints of visitors who’d come before me. But luckily near the first trail intersection, I looked up long enough to notice an exquisite little piece of architecture. A small, sturdy nest had been securely anchored in the upright fork of several branches of a small shrub. Though the nest was about four inches long, it was only about an inch and a half deep and about two and a half inches wide inside – a nest for a very small bird! [Click photo to enlarge.]
I know that Black-capped Chickadees nest in cavities rather than in cup nests out in the open. So my mind wandered back over the small cup-nesting birds I’d seen there last summer. Consulting both Cornell Ornithology Lab’s All About Birds website and my Peterson Field Guide to Eastern Birds’ Nests, I discovered that the depth of the cup was too shallow for either the Song Sparrow or Field Sparrow, which were my first guesses. But then I remembered a small spark of sunshine that frequents that corner of the park each summer, a lemon yellow visitor who arrives from the Caribbean. This nest met all the measurements my sources listed for the nest of one of my favorite warblers. The female Yellow Warbler (Setophaga petechia) is my candidate for architect of this little marvel. She needs only four days to gather materials and weave her nest of plant fibers and spider webs, lining it with plant down. If this nest is hers, it’s survived a tough winter remarkably well! It probably won’t be reused, though; most birds build a fresh nest each year. But what a warming memory of last summer! Since I’m no expert at nests, I’m open to input if any of you have a different candidate for the creator of this little nest.
Nearby on the Hickory Lane on another afternoon, my husband and I stood admiring a very shaggy Shagbark Hickory (Carya ovata) with long shards of bark angling off its trunk. These wonderful trees can grow as high as 100 feet and can live as long as 350 years, according to Wikipedia. Shagbark Hickories reach maturity and start producing nuts at age 10. They don’t produce large numbers of them until they are 40 years old, but can continue until the ripe old age of 100. I remembered walking the lane last autumn with the crunch of hickory shells underfoot. Getting a wild hickory nut isn’t easy for us humans. They are too favored by squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons, rabbits and birds, including wild turkeys, wood ducks and mallards.
In late winter for the last few years, I’ve ventured out to Cranberry Lake on the east side of the park to see whether the Beavers (Castor canadensis) have been restocking their food stores. Some years if they have not stockpiled quite enough leafy branches thrust down inside their lodge or in ice nearby, they come out on warm winter days to add a bit more. Beavers consume the leaves and the outer layers of bark from trees, along with some rhizomes (underground stems) and other plant material stored inside the lodge when the weather was warmer. This year I remembered those pointed stumps that I noticed a few years ago and headed out to check near the lodge. But I didn’t find any newly gnawed tree stumps near the edge of the lake. So this year, the beavers’ larder must have been stocked enough to get them through this snowy season..
Wintry Adventures in the Present
Readers may remember my fondness for imagining how tracks get left in the snow. Noticing some at the edge of the Hickory Lane conjured a possible small drama. My husband and I came across a set of mouse prints leading to a small nook created by overhanging bark at the base of a tree. The tracks were blurry and seemed to be going in two directions. I wondered if perhaps a White-footed Mouse (Peromyscus leucopus) had scooted across the trail, turned back for a moment, spotted a potential threat and dashed toward this hiding place again. In any case, its tracks back out of the nook looked to be at a more normal pace, leaving tiny leaping footprints and tail marks in the snow. Of course this is all guesswork on my part. If you have another interpretation, please share it in the comments!
During the January walk with the birding group, a few of us ventured out onto the ice of a small pond along a trail that we take back toward the parking lot. I keep an eye on this pond in the summer because it’s frequented by Wood Ducks regularly and sometimes by Great Blue Herons as well. But on this trip, the ice was plenty thick enough to permit me to explore a bit further afield.
Doing what a friend calls “boot skating,” I slipped across the ice to find a vantage point from the middle of the northern part of the pond. Instead of the narrowed strip of water I’d peeked at from the forest in the summer, a second large section of the pond expanded out before me!
Dr. Ben VanderWeide, our township stewardship manager, brought up a map of this area on his cellphone to show me that this pond actually had three sections, the farthest south connected to the others by a narrow stretch of water. I was instantly intrigued! After six years of hiking here, I was seeing something that I hadn’t know existed!
I couldn’t investigate that morning but my husband Reg and I returned several days later to begin exploring these unseen sections of the pond. What fun to shuffle and slip across the icy surface! Near the eastern edge of the pond, a giant tip-up loomed at the water’s edge. It turned out to be the combined roots of 3 tall trees that had been uprooted by a strong wind at some point in the past. I’d never seen a tip-up this big before!
Nearby, an old Black Willow (Salix nigra) slanted up out of the soil at a precarious angle. The roots appear to have been alive last year since a whole series of suckers protruded from the tree’s surface. But it was the amazing pattern of the aging bark that fascinated me, like the wrinkled skin of an ancient face.
Moving south, we arrived at the narrow outlet that led to the third part of the pond.
Stepping out of the narrow, tree-lined passageway, I felt a little thrill, as if I were entering a small, hidden world all its own. There was nothing spectacular about this shallower third pond really, except that it seemed more isolated , fringed with forest and farther from the trails that I normally take in and out of the park – a secret place ripe for discovery.
We walked tentatively around the ice because it looked softer, perhaps shallower, and the edges gave way to water underfoot. I wondered if the pond would disappear in summer heat, sinking back into the wetland that lay around and beyond it. In warmer weather, it will be more challenging to reach this pond through dense trees, shrubs, tall grass and the mud that will surround it – but I hope to try.
We left by gingerly stepping from clump to clump of Tussock Sedges (Carex stricta) at the western edge of the pond. Sedges can look like grasses, but their triangular stems are different from the hollow, round stems of grasses. During the summer, the two-foot stems of Tussock Sedge produce seeds which, when carried by the wind, end up feeding Northern Cardinals, Wild Turkeys, Mallards and those Wood Ducks that I see in the spring.
They also spread vegetatively into colonies through rhizomes. As the leaves wither, they drop onto the live plant below forming what look like plump, brown cushions during the winter.
Looking Forward to Spring and Beyond
Two harbingers of spring greeted me on the way back to the parking lot last month. Despite the snow, the buds on a Silver Maple tree (Acer saccharinum) along the path were already swelling.
And nearby two male Northern Cardinals (Cardinalis cardinalis) participated in a singing competition, probably establishing their territories. One was perched off in the distance in a marsh, but the one near the trail paused his singing and posed for a moment.
Here’s an older recording I took of two cardinals doing the same thing.
The Tussock Sedges near the third hidden pond are host plants for the caterpillars of three butterflies: the Eyed Brown (Satyrodes eurydice), the Black Dash (Euphyes conspicua), and the Dun Skipper (Euphyes vestris). I’ll be looking for them next summer nectaring on native wetland wildflowers and shrubs like Swamp Milkweed, Button Bush or Joe Pye, though some also get nutrition from bird droppings or tree sap. Knowing who might be there makes going next summer even more inviting!
The Thrill of Discovery in Another Realm
My friends will tell you that I’m fascinated by the new rover that landed on Mars recently. Watching the NASA video of the Perseverance robot being lowered to the surface or listening to the recording of the wind blowing on Mars completely delights and fascinates me. But really, we have a largely unknown world available to us right outside our doors. When I step into a new environment like the hidden pond at Cranberry Lake Park, I’m in another realm, too – a wild one very different from my human habitat. And that immediately delights and engages me. I wonder “What grows here and what part does it play in this habitat? Which creatures make their homes here in the summer months? Which birds will nest in this secret wetland out of sight from the trails? Could I find an active Yellow Warbler nest near the pond next summer now that I’ve learned to recognize one? What can I discover that I’ve never before seen, or if seen, not noticed?”
Maybe the impulse that drives NASA researchers to Mars is, in some small way, the same impulse that pushes me out the door on a snowy day to see what I can discover. For a few hours, I leave behind the warm, safe, enclosed human realm to experience the wildness of the other realm that surrounds me. In this nearby “outer space,” trees, wildflowers and grasses thrust themselves out of the ground, using sun, water and earth to grow and reproduce. In the cold, heat, rain and wind, wild creatures scurry, soar, leap, run, crawl and swim day and night year ’round. And when I leave their world behind and arrive back in my human one, I feel awake and alive. Thanks for traveling to nature’s “outer space” with me. I love having you along to share what I’m learning.