Come walk with me in the peak Autumn beauty of the Northwoods. To say that I love this time of year is an understatement. Most everyone can appreciate the colorful falling leaves---it reveals the 'true self' of a tree when its leaves are no longer producing chlorophyll. Their true colors are revealed, and there is something simple … [Read More...]
Archives for July 2014
A Posse of Turkeys
One bright morning while eating breakfast, I heard a car honk, so turned to look out the window. A posse of turkeys was walking up the driveway into our yard. Three adult females were herding countless young juveniles through the grass to a path by the blueberry patch that led into the cedar and oak woods. Turkeys have excellent day vision–three times better than that of humans–so I’m sure they saw me move to the window with the camera.
These mother/child groups of turkeys are known by many names–flock, raffle, gang, crop, and posse to name a few. After spring mating and laying a clutch of 10-12 eggs in a shallow dirt depression nest, they incubate the eggs for 28 days. The poults hatch and leave the nest within 24 hours, ready to travel with the posse and forage for food.
The young juveniles–male jakes and female jennies–eat grasses, seeds, nuts, insects, and fruit. Adults also eat small salamanders and snakes.
In the early 1930’s the wild turkey population was on the verge of extinction, but thanks to conservation efforts the range and numbers of turkeys are greater than ever.
Turkeys can run up to 25 mph and can fly for short distances up to 55 mph. They roost in trees at night.
An adult tom or hen has between 5,000 and 6,000 feathers, many with an iridescent copper, gold, and bronze coloring. Both sexes have a wattle under the chin and have a bare head that can turn red, white or blue with excitement or emotion. Males have long spurs on their legs and a stiff beard growing from the chest.
They walked into the woods, pecking at food as they went, with the females ever vigilant to protect their offspring. Benjamin Franklin wrote that the wild turkey was a ‘much more respectable bird’ than the bald eagle when discussing the choice for the National Bird. I feel privileged to have witnessed the families of both species in the last month. Both are beautiful and impressive with unique characteristics and a dedication to parenting. I’m glad this posse showed up at our home!
Leap of Faith
We checked in at Eagle Park to see if the young eaglets had ‘fledged’ or flown from the nest. At the beginning of last week, we went on a cool, windy day. The two eaglets were hunkered down in the nest with only their heads showing, and that’s where they stayed the entire time we were there. We didn’t see either of the parents.
So we wandered around the park trail looking at wildflowers, grasses, and rocks. One of my favorite wildflowers is the delicate Daisy fleabane. This common, understated member of the Sunflower family is so named because of its use to repel fleas. I wonder if the eagles use it in their nest.
I love the ‘potential’ in a flower bud. The following photo is the bud of a Turk’s-cap lily. The petals unfold and curve back to showcase the extended stamens and showy anthers. Isn’t it amazing that the bud contains all of that!
The Butterfly weed was still looking spectacular, also.
We returned to the park last evening. The Goldfinches were flying from the bare branches of a crabapple tree to the large sweeps of thistles that were going to seed.
And who was in the nest this time?
We found only one eaglet in the nest. He stayed there for most of the time we hiked around the trail.
I like this pink granite boulder and the tuft of wildflowers and grasses that are growing on the top of it.
We saw a Red-tailed hawk scanning the ground for glimpses of movement that might mean a tasty meal.
The goldenrod was blooming–is it trying to move us out of summer already?!
As we were talking about the flowers, I saw the young eagle jump out of the nest onto a branch.
And then he lifted his wings, and with a leap of faith he flew away! Just like that!
Not only is the goldenrod pointing us towards fall, but the eagles are also. They will all occupy the nest for a number of weeks more as the young eagles learn about hunting. The parents will continue to bring food back to the nest as the fledglings practice their hunting skills. Then they will begin their solitary life of four or five years to mature and change color before picking out a mate.
The Spring egg holding the potential young eagle. The lily bud holding the glorious Turk’s-cap flower. The flowering thistles holding hundreds of the favored seeds for the Goldfinches. Let’s all take our innate potential and fly!
A Boy Named Tree
When our son was three or four years old he started telling us and anybody who asked him that his middle name was Tree. Now in our family, trees are rather beloved things, so we didn’t object to his chosen name. His father is a modern-day Johnny Appleseed who can wield an A.M. Leonard spade like a surgeon’s knife and dig a hole and plant a tree with the same precision, so maybe he has trees in his blood. Our Tree Brake was a spirited nature person at a young age–he loved snakes, frogs, bugs, squirrels, mice, and just about any kind of critter. He caught snakes and brought them into the house. He took a live mouse from one of the outside cats and brought it inside where it hid behind the toy box until we let the cat in to finish her job. He and his sister would crawl under the corral fence and catch frogs in the muddy hollows of hoof prints. He agilely climbed trees, swung from trees, and played in the Lilac leafhouse and the tall treehouse in the spreading elm tree. He was a cute, fearless creature of nature.
Trees and lakes dominate the landscape in northern Minnesota. Pines, birch, and aspen create the backdrop of beauty in the area around the Pelican Lake camp we visited. When we drove through the woods close to the camp, we saw a deer munching on foliage under a huge white pine.
As we biked and wandered through the woods with our beautiful guide (who happens to be Tree’s girlfriend), we passed through an aspen cathedral. The light filtered through the dancing leaves and reflected off the gray-white bark of the trees. A feeling of reverence descended on me.
Further along the trail, we saw interesting fungi growing on fallen birch logs–another stage in nature’s cycle of tree life.
There are too many things to say about trees–they are so much more than their size, form, leaf description, bark texture, flower, seed, or fall color. I have been frustrated that I cannot capture in a photo the majesty of a pine or a cottonwood that has weathered decades of winters, storms, and droughts. Three pines at camp immediately caught my attention when we entered a clearing by the lake. They towered above the other trees, quietly demanding attention and respect. My photo does not do them justice.
As I returned to the clearing after getting some pictures of the lake, Chris and Michaela pointed down the mown path. A young fox was sitting there. It was clear that we were in his domain. He wasn’t old enough to be on his own yet, but he had obviously gotten permission to leave the den. Maybe he had wandered down to the lake to try to find a crayfish or perhaps he was tasting the sweet, ripe raspberries that lined the path.
He was curious about us–‘Maybe those are the creatures my mom told me to stay away from–they don’t look so bad!’
‘Is that my mom calling me?’
‘Still, they don’t seem too scary….’
‘But I’d better get home anyway!’
And he disappeared into the tall grass and trees. Trees and these woods–home to so many creatures. Often we claim the land and resources for our own without realizing how many living things call it home. The trio of white pines that watch over the fox family that eat the crayfish and raspberries–the web of life.
Aaron Tree Brake is now a senior in college at the beautiful and unique St. John’s University where he is surrounded by lakes, trees, and wildlife. Like Aaron, I believe we should all aspire to call ourselves something from Nature that stirs our soul, encourages our fearlessness, and inspires our life. As for the young fox, I think I will call him Tree.
Treasures of the Lakes
Minnesota is the “Land of 10,000 Lakes,” most of which are in the northern half of the state. Last weekend we visited a camp in the Brainerd Lakes area and explored three of those lakes by boat, bike, and on foot. We boated on Pelican Lake, which encompasses over 8,000 acres with miles of sandy beaches and cabins. As anybody who lives on a lake knows, the water reflects the sky and indicates the weather along with its overhead partner. The sky was cloudy and gray when we boated to Bird Island to entice the seagulls, and the lake water was dark and leaden. But later in the afternoon, the clouds moved out, the sun shone warm, and the lake glimmered blue.
On shore, the lapping waves had pushed up sand, sticks and shells where the sedge grass and dazzling swamp milkweed grew.
A delighted camper had collected a handful of striped shells, then left them in the sand by the dock as he hurried away to the next activity.
We biked to a nearby lake that was small and uninhabited by humans. From a viewing deck we watched a pair of courtly swans as they glided into the weedy cover across the lake. Their fine white feathers glowed in the sunlight and reflected off the smooth parts of the water.
Beaver lodges covered in logs that the master builders had gnawed down seemed to erupt out of the water.
At the third lake we discovered a carpet of lily pads close to the shore in green, yellow, orange and red held up by the steel-blue water.
Partners in Beauty–the sky and the lake, the shells and the sand, the graceful swans, the beavers and their logs, the lily pads and the water. In this tiny piece of creation, the beauty is overflowing.
Flying Dreams
Have you ever dreamed of flying? Not the airplane kind of flying, but the bird kind–where you are actually flying like a bird? It’s a common dream, especially among men. Most flying dreams are also what is called a lucid dream–one where the dreamer takes control of part of the dream. They are an escape from the pressures of the real world and represent freedom and rising above the concerns of the ‘ground.’
Over the weekend Chris and I visited a camp in the Brainerd Lakes area where a young woman friend of ours works for the summer. The camp was spread out under stately pines and birch trees and bordered a clear, large lake. Mid-afternoon we boarded the pontoon boat with family, friends and a loaf of bread. The sky was cloudy, and it was cool enough on the water that wearing a sweatshirt felt good. We toured around the lake looking at charming cabins, an impressive log mansion, and miles of sandy beaches. And then we cruised by Bird Island! Birds meaning seagulls. Seagulls who knew that certain pontoon boats–usually filled with kids–would throw chunks of bread up in the air for them! The people in the back of our boat started throwing the bread, and the seagulls gathered behind us like a flowing train as we sped through the water.
The gulls were like flying acrobats–each trying valiantly to get a piece of that yummy bread! They dipped and dived, swooped and turned, and glided right above our heads.
It was a surreal feeling speeding along the water with this flock of seagulls flying with us overhead! It was like time sort of stopped–I was so in the moment. It felt exhilarating and joyful and awesome–in every sense of the word. There was an interaction with us and them–like a playful game–that left us feeling happy and liberated from worries. I guess we just found ourselves in a flying dream!
The Rescue
One day after mowing the lawn, I walked past our egress window well and heard some insistent chirping. Peering into the four-foot deep hole, I saw a fledgling bluebird staring up at me. She repeatedly tried to fly out but was only able to get about halfway up the corrugated tin walls. Run, fly, fall, run, fly, fall.
I don’t know whether she had flown/fallen from her nest in the maple tree straight past the soft landing of green grass to the rocky bottom of the window well or if she was scampering on the ground trying to get away from the scary mower. At any rate, she was uninjured, quite feisty, and determined to get out of there. But it was plain to see that she wasn’t going to be able to do that without a little help.
So I rummaged through the shed and found an old board and slowly slid it into the window well to make a ramp. She flew over it a few times, then landed on it and took a tentative step or two up the board. My presence at the topside was still too distracting for her, however, and she hopped back down to the rocks.
I decided I would watch her ascent through the window in the basement. She quickly turned to watch me watching her one more time! She clung to the board with her tiny claws but would go no further while the camera and I looked her way.
So I left. I walked into the laundry room to put something away. And she left. I didn’t see her walk up the board or fly from her open-aired prison. In less than thirty seconds, this determined little fledgling had made her way up and out to the place where she belonged–but she could not have done it without a little help from a friend.
Eagles Among the Granite and Wildflowers
We live in granite country. Quarries–some old and some still productive–are everywhere, and there are a number of granite warehouses within miles of our place. Commercial buildings are sheathed in granite of different hues. Our garden walls and steps are granite, and everywhere a person may want to dig, there will be granite. Eagle Park is strewn with granite boulders called core stones that have surfaced from the granite bedrock. The igneous rock in this area is made up of clear to gray quartz, black mica, with pink and white feldspar crystals and is called Rockville Granite. I’ll walk you around the park of granite boulders, eagles and wildflowers.
The milkweed was abundant, and each ball of buds or blooms was a shade of candy-confection pink. No wonder the monarch butterflies love this plant!
While I was looking at flowers, Chris spotted an eagle in the tree ahead of us. It is hard to differentiate the male and female bald eagle, especially when they are not side by side. The female is larger and has a deeper beak. The male generally has a sleeker head, so by comparing the pictures from the last post, I would say this is father eagle! He flew from this perch overlooking the floodplain back to the nest in the gnarled hackberry tree in the center of the park.
The path circles the park, skirting the immense granite boulders and winding past giant oak trees.
Thistles have encroached upon the park from an adjacent untended pasture, living side by side with the prairie grasses and wildflowers. The prolific seeders take over more ground year after year.
A trio of fuzzy-leaved mullein stands poised, ready to bloom.
Meadow rue and prairie phlox adorn the granite.
Leadplant and butterfly weed brighten the landscape.
Blue vervain and purple coneflower have prominent seed heads, insuring the propagation of their kind for another year.
And a lovely young oak puts on its yearly coat of new growth.
The granite has been in this place for eons. This pair of eagles has been here for ten years now. They have adapted to the circling of curious spectators as they raise their eaglets in their home high above the grasses, thistles, and wildflowers. We all take our place in the history of the eons, adapting to the changes that come our way. We learn from the hard times and the thorny issues that invade the beauty of our lives. We need to feed upon the candy-confection beauty of the world and let the seeds of that beauty–love, compassion, kindness, faith and hope–spread beyond our own selves. We need to view the world from that high home in the sky.
Land of the Free
Besides our bright, waving, stars and stripes flag, what best symbolizes America–the land of the free and the home of the brave? Yep, the Bald Eagle–our National Bird! Two evenings ago, we went to visit Eagle Park–the home of a pair of these great birds–not far from our house. It was our first outing there for the season. The nearby Sauk River was out of its banks with all the rain that had fallen in the month of June. The prairie surrounding the eagle tree was lush and blooming.
I had another borrowed camera with more powerful zoom (thank you, Aaron), a tripod, a gracious helper (thank you, Chris), and a beautiful evening. (We did, however, forget the mosquito repellant.) When I focused in on the nest, I was surprised to see the two fledglings, nearly as large as a mature eagle! And what a nest! Eagles usually return to the same nest each year, repairing and adding to it. Most are around five feet in diameter, while some get up to eight feet across and are estimated to weigh almost two tons.
Now using the term fledgling would imply that the eaglets have ‘fledged’ or left the nest. I don’t think these two have done that yet, though they must be close to the 11-13 weeks when that normally occurs. One eaglet stayed in the nest while the other perched on a branch, flapped his wings, and hopped from one side of the nest to the other. He looks like he is ready to fly!
Eagle chicks grow very rapidly and are almost adult size by six weeks old. By eight weeks, their parents are hunting almost continuously to feed them. This fledgling looked like he was waiting for one of his parents to return with a meal.
But look at how sharp his beak is! Once he has fledged from the nest, he will learn to hunt as the parents still provide food. It will take 4-5 years for the eaglets to mature. Gradually their head and tail feathers turn white while their eyes and beaks turn yellow. Eagles mate for life, and both parents can incubate the eggs, though most often the female stays on the nest, and the male hunts for food for her. After the chicks hatch, one parent stays on the nest or close by.
The sun was getting lower to the horizon but shone on the top of the tree where the young eagles were patiently waiting for the return of their parents.
Then as we were walking back, we heard the fledglings start to vocalize–and there was mother eagle! She came back empty-clawed–no food from this round of hunting.
The eaglet that had been in the nest and quiet the whole time was very excited to see the mother eagle!
Even after that wonderful display, the mother eagle didn’t pay much attention to the young ones.
With the sun going down, we left the eagles and their extraordinary habitat. I was so happy I saw the three of them and was hoping the father eagle had better luck with his evening hunt.
What a symbol of Freedom! We often look at freedom in the context of purely external forces on our lives, but I contend that a majority of the battles that individual Americans face actually come from within. Be proud and celebrate our country’s Independence today, but be brave and give some thought to what it is that is holding you back, what it would take to make your spirit soar!
Gleanings from June
One fall long ago, after the corn harvest, my Mom, Dad, siblings and I took the tractor and grain trailer out to the field to gather corn. We walked the rows looking for the bright yellow ears that were missed by the combine, so we could feed them to our four horses throughout the winter. Not all the ears were in plain sight, so I learned to watch for husks that weren’t pulled back and that were still full and round. I loved finding a long perfect ear of corn hiding in the stubble! We worked until my Dad thought we had enough for the winter, then climbed into the wagon on top of the corn and headed home with our gleanings.
I was reminded of this story when I was going through all the pictures I took in the month of June. I found some that didn’t fit in any particular blog post that I still wanted to share. So the monthly ‘gleanings’ will be miscellaneous photos that weren’t picked for a post but will still highlight nature’s treasures.
Water was in abundant supply in June with near record rainfalls that kept my birdbath full. It spurred the growth of many strange and wonderful toadstools.
We had a couple of visiting creatures–a tree frog and a turtle.
I found a spider with her egg sac on a sedum plant. When I got close with the camera, she scurried to the other side of the leaf carrying her egg sac. On the same plant, there was another spider about to lay her eggs and wrap them into a silky sac.
The bumblebees loved the perennial blue salvia.
I think this is a type of Hawkweed, a member of the Sunflower Family. I like how the flower stalks look like tentacles and how the leaves twist, looking like green barbwire.
And this last picture of a dewy, sunshiny morning when the grass looked like it was frosted, reminded me how very nice it was to finally be in this place called Summer.
Take a look at NorthStarNature Facebook page for additional photos that aren’t posted on my blog!