It's the Little Things

Many years ago, when I was a student at Cook College, Rutgers University, I volunteered to take children on tours of the working farm on campus and sometimes Helyar Woods, a forest on the property of the school. For the most part, the kids came from inner-city schools, with little exposure to either farm or forest. I was trained on the farm part of the tour--calling the pigs over to the fence so the children can feel their soft noses or bristley backs, playing the "Guess the weight of the entire class" game and then weighing them on the truck scale, and petting the calves while I explained how cows have multiple stomachs.

I wasn't given much guidance on what to do if the tour groups had chosen to do the hike in the woods, though. My brother suggested I might find some ideas in a book called Sharing Nature with Children by Joseph Cornell. Filled with suggestions on how to get kids interested in and excited about being outside, the book inspired me as well.  There was the Web of Life game, which uses a simple roll of twine to teach the interconnectedness of all living things, and the Know a Tree exercise, where one child in a pair is blindfolded, and learns about a single tree just through touching it--and has to try to find it later once she can see.

More than three decades later, I still find myself using some of the techniques in that book. For example, the other day, I took a micro-hike. Now, the way the book describes it--and the best way to do it with a bunch of unruly children--is to take a hula hoop and put it on the ground and have the kids look really closely at what they could see, just within the confines of the hoop. If you've never taken the time to explore a small section of the earth (and by small I mean one or two square feet), I highly recommend it--particularly in the spring and summer.

I used to do this exercise before we went into Helyar Woods, because it taught the kids to be observant--and to be excited about discovering things, even things that might seem boring. They would notice bugs, and ants, and sticks. They'd realize that all grass doesn't look the same, and there might be clover and dandelions and thistle mixed in. Someone would invariable find bird poop, but it was ever so much more exciting when we talked about what bird it might have been, and how you can tell things about a living creature from examining what it eliminates.

The other day, I was inspired to do a version of the micro hike in the woods behind my house. The hike was along a fallen tree--one that had come down a few years ago. Since I brought my  camera--and a macro lens--you can come with me.

The micro hike takes place here.

At first glance, even from a distance and in the dead of winter, you can see that the trunk is covered with moss of some kind.  It's when you take a few steps closer that you realize there's a lot more than moss growing here.

There's moss and fungus and lichen!

And here's where I wish I had a resident expert to help me a bit. I think most of us can recognize moss.

Moss

And probably we would know what a fungus looks like, particularly when we remember that a mushroom is a fungus.

But lichen?

Lichen! (and moss)

Actually, now that I realize it, what the heck is a lichen exactly? A little bit of research has helped me learn a little about these fascinating organisms.  For one thing they are true symbionts. A lichen is a composite of a fungus and a photosynthetic organism--usually an alga. Fungus get food from the algae's photosynthesis, and the algae get moisture from the fungus.

Lichens live in the most inhospitable environments--on rocks, logs, walls--and in harsh climates. They occupy a niche that other organisms can't survive. Though they also apparently are very sensitive to pollutants, and are indicators of poor air quality; no lichens = possible air pollution. I guess they're the plant versions of the canary in a coal mine.

On most of my other posts I can identify some of the plants and animals and insects in the photographs I feature. But in this case, I can just barely do that with lichens. But here's the thing, they sure are pretty.  And quite fascinating. And make great subjects for a micro hike with a camera.

To sit back, relax, and enjoy the hike. I'll identify where I can.

The bottom of the log, where it meets the ground, shows grass, lichens and moss.

Moss on the top of the log shows tiny stalks that have captured water droplets.

I believe this is called turkey tail lichen.

This is really young turkey tail lichen. Each of these little fruiting bodies are no more than a quarter inch tall,

These turkey tails are a little bigger. You can also see some moss--that's the dark green--and the lighter green is a common greenshield lichen, I think.

Here is a combination of all the mosses and lichens, young and old.

A close up of turkey tail lichen.

Seems like the turkey tail lichen can feature several colors...though I'm not sure.

The naturalist in me always wants to know, to identify, to understand what I'm looking at. In the case of this particular micro hike, I don't know. Instead, since I don't have a lichenologist or a mycologist on staff, I must sit back and enjoy canvas painted by capital N Nature.

And sometimes, that's enough.

It's Snow Time!

Winter has only just begun, yet we've had two snowstorms already. Like most dogs, my three love the snow. I don't know what it is about the cold flaky stuff that makes Lilah, Jasper and Tucker, well, flaky.

Dogs who normally can't stand getting wet (that's you, Jasper and Tucker) romp around in the snow like it's the Best Thing Ever. A Gift From the Sky. And you can Eat It, too! Just an inch of white on the ground and my dogs turn into goofy puppies.

And I love it. I turn in to a kid as well, watching my four-legged friends romp and jump and pounce and bound. Sometimes I just run around in the snow with them. And then we all come piling back in the warm house, happy and tired--and wet.

Eventually, it all melts. And we're back to plain hard frozen ground--or worse yet, nasty thick mud that sticks to dog paws like Velcro. Until the next snow storm blankets our yard and we get to go out and do it again.

The first storm of the season came in the fall--November 7. This year, The Weather Channel started naming winter storms, and this one was christened Athena.  I'm sure our Athena felt she finally got her due.

"Wait! What? A snowstorm named after me? Of course. As it should be."

Tucker, Lilah and Jasper run through the snow as the storm just gets started.

Too much snow on your back and you have to Floppity it off.

By nighttime, we had more than six inches. The heavy wet snow covered everything with a soft white blanket, including our patio.

And the snow kept falling...

The next morning, a walk through the woods revealed nature's beauty at every turn. The heavy snow bent branches and trees already stressed from Hurricane Sandy's wrath a little over a week before, creating a new landscape--and in some cases breaking limbs that couldn't bear the weight.

Morning sun shines through the trees after Snowstorm Athena.

The wind blew snow against one side of the trees, streaking them with white.

The jagged jumble of fallen limbs was softened by the covering of snow.

I wasn't the only one walking in the woods after the storm. A deer had come through earlier.

Heading back toward the gate and my home. Leaves were still on some of the trees.

The front yard offered up its own beauty.

And in the back yard, the dogs explored their territory..

The second storm, Snowstorm Freyr, came just a few days ago. It was colder, and the snow was dryer. Only three inches fell, but that was enough for doggy fun and games.

With snow still falling, the dogs are ready to romp.

Ooh! A sniff under the snow.  All Noses report to duty.

Once the dogs get started, they play in all combinations.

Three dogs chasing each other. (That's Jasper's head in the corner.)

Jasper and Lilah

Tucker and Lilah

Jasper and Tucker

Tucker and his Ball. Doesn't matter how frozen or snow covered it is, we eventually have to Play Ball.

There are a few quiet moments, usually with one dog sitting it out while two others run around. It's at those moments that I like to try and capture a few Snow Portraits.

Lilah, with a snowy snout. I love how the snow decorates her fur like fine sugar.

Jasper, always looking regal, even as his fur is coated with snow.

Tucker, showing off his Snow Beard, acquired from digging in drifts.

And every once in a while, I capture something that just makes me smile. In the picture below, it wasn't until after I enlarged it on my laptop that I saw Tucker reflected in Jasper's eye. Cool.

Through a dog's eye's: Tucker reflected in Jasper's eye.

All of our cats are indoor kitties, though it doesn't stop them from watching us and wishing they could join in the fun. Though I would hazard a guess that one step into cold wet snow would have them turning around in a whisker's instant and heading back into a warm dry house.

Calvin, Elsa Clair and a partly obscured Athena peer out the window at us.

Once we head inside, we all play the Treats for the Feets game, where each dog gets a treat for getting his or her feet wiped. This also involves toweling off and removing snow clumps from furry paws. Of course all this activity requires Supervision by at least one of the cats.
 

Tucker and Lilah waiting for their Feets to be dried. Elsa Clair Supervises.

What IS this stuff? Calvin ponders snow brought inside and shaken off the dogs' fur.

The Winter Games have just begun, and we're looking forward to the season.

For the Birds

I like watching birds--though I'm not a bird watcher.

To explain: I'm not the kind of person who goes on birding treks to find exotic species. Instead, what I really enjoy is sitting in my family room--or outside when it's warm--and just simply watching birds.  To paraphrase Opus the penguin, I'm talking about "plain Jane, home grown, bare bone, two-part, Kmart, no frills flappers." Generic birds that don't mind hanging out in my back yard.

Some folks like to keep an aquarium and to watch the multicolored fishies swim 'round and 'round; I enjoy looking at pretty birdies as they fly, hop, flit, jump, eat, drink, bathe and fluff their feathers. I love watching them build their nests. I love watching them court, whether by singing a special song, offering gifts of food, or pecking on our gutters first thing in the morning. (Though Corinne hated that when she lived here, as the gutter of choice was by her bedroom, and mere inches from her head as she slept--make that attempted to sleep--in her loft bed. )

I love watching birds choose a nest site, move into our bird houses and set up housekeeping. I love watching them bring their young ones around in the spring. I love watching the "teenagers" still beg for food from their harassed parents.

At any one time, I may have as many as a dozen different types of bird feeders stationed around my patio. I could sit and watch my winged visitors for a very long time. Though Dawn and Athena could probably watch even longer. The window is like Kitty TV for them, always tuned to their favorite channel.

Athena and Dawn watchin' birdies.

From the inside, looking out.

Lilah and Tucker are also bird watchers. Though I think Tucker is more interested in the squirrels.

I am also a fan of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, and have in the past participated in their Project Feederwatch, as a citizen scientist, counting the birds that have visited my yard through the fall and winter. Every year in February, the lab also supports the Great Backyard Bird Count, where, along with other organizations, they encourage anyone who can to simply count the different bird species that visit their backyards. As little as 15 minutes of bird watching is all you need to contribute. (Though I'm sure more is appreciated.)

The information participants gather is pulled together and analyzed to help scientists understand all kinds of things about our feathered friends. And I'm happy to help.

So, in honor of the GBBC that will be held this upcoming weekend, February 17 to 20, here are a few pictures of some of the birds I've seen at my feeders this winter.

Male and female house finches belly up to the bar to feed on shelled sunflower seeds.

A male Downy Woodpecker (you can tell he's a guy by the red spot on his head) hangs out on branch.

Nuthatches tend to skitter down a tree trunk head first. This white-breasted nuthatch is feasting on suet, which also attracts woodpeckers.

A yellow-shafted northern flicker--a type of woodpecker--sits on the ground below the suet feeder, pondering his next move.

Woodpeckers also eat seeds, like this red-bellied woodpecker who, along with a gold finch, is enjoying a sunflower seed snack.

Northern cardinals--a familiar sight in many northeast US birdfeeders--really like this type of feeder, as they prefer to feed head-on, facing the food. A house finch has his back to the camera.

A duller-colored female cardinal eyes the sunflower seeds spread out before her--sure to chose just the right one.

Unfortunately, it's not just featured creatures who like sunflowers--and I often have to devise ways to discourage the squirrely thieves who eat way too much.

While some of our feeders are squirrel proof, this one is not. Birds that like to eat from the ground--or on flat surfaces--love this hanging seed tray, so I make sure there is enough food for feathered and furry diners.

Many beaks--in this case all house finches--can sup at this feeder at the same time.

One of my favorite feeders, this one is made from old traffic light lenses. Female house finches dine beneath a green roof--that used to mean "Go."

Gold finches, wearing their dull winter dress, love this squirrel-proof feeder. And it truly is squirrel proof; anything heavier than a cardinal will cause those little perches to tip down. And squirrels are definitely heavier than cardinals, as they all learn when dumped unceremoniously on the ground. Some squirrels need a few lessons to really get it.

Blue jays are one of the few birds large enough--and sassy enough--to chase away the squirrels. Most of the other birds, too, will give way when they hear the noisy squawks as they come in for a landing. Jays will also harass any birds of prey that come by; mobbing the predators until they leave.

It's difficult to get a picture of a tufted titmouse on a feeder. These birds always grab a seed and quickly fly to a branch where they eat it.

Black-capped chickadees are tiny birds with a distinctive call that gives them their name.

A trio of mourning doves huddles on my garden wall, facing into the wind. When it snows, I often spread seeds there for the ground feeders.

Lots of sparrows come to visit, particularly after a snowfall. They can be a little tricky to tell apart. This one is a song sparrow; the black spot and streaky breast are clues.

A white-throated sparrow grabs a seed that has fallen from one of the feeders.

A ground feeder like the sparrows, the dark-eyed junco is also a common eastern visitor.

Though this little Carolina wren looks a little irritated, he's probably quite happy to eat the seeds scattered on my patio.

Even though it's still officially winter, you can tell spring is around the corner when the Canada geese start to fly north.

Another sure sign is the sighting of an American robin, this one taking a drink from a puddle on my table cover.

As the weather starts to turn warmer and the days get longer, fewer winter birds appear at my feeders; the spring and summer species begin to show up. The first songs of spring come bursting forth in the morning. Male goldfinches trade in their dull feathers for their dress-up bright yellow. Woodpeckers knock against our gutters, making as much noise as possible in the hopes of attracting a mate and scaring off competitors with the size of their sound. Hopefully, a few birds will like one of the birdhouses we've placed around our yard--and maybe they'll move in.

And I'll be enjoying the show.