444 - The Sweetness of Death in Autumn

"Here is where the journey is," philosophized Doug Wood when I finally picked the book back up. "…why do I go through it? Because no one else can go through it for me." It's true. And I love going through the challenges of a canoe trip. Planning, paddling, portaging, wayfinding, camping, and even cleaning up once I'm back home all carry a satisfying amount of effort and reward. Plus, there are the sunsets.  I wonder, how do geese feel about their endless modes of misery?

"Something smells nice right here," commented my fiancé as we hiked over a rock outcrop strewn with sun-warmed, yellowed birch leaves. The sweet aroma of autumn comes when microbes break down sugars that trees manufactured in the height of summer. Before letting them go, the tree pulled nitrogen and phosphorus out of the leaves and into the twigs, where the molecules will remain on deck to fuel next spring's leaf growth. But the tree doesn't need to save every last molecule of sugar.

"Holy Moly Roly Poly!" This enthusiastic shout came from an adorable, towheaded 4-year old, standing on the far side of a log I'd just rolled toward me. Together, we paused to watch a dozen or more oval gray invertebrates with lots of legs scurry in confusion around their suddenly well-lit home. Just based on that boy's enthusiasm, I knew I needed to write about roly polies. As a start, I uploaded a few of my photos to iNaturalist. To my surprise, all three photos were of different species! 

Last week I attended the Outdoor Writers Association of America's annual conference in Madison, Wisconsin. At the conference, it was announced that my third book, Natural Connections 3: A Web Endlessly Woven won second place in the Excellence In Craft Contest's book category. Naturally, I'm thrilled. My essay, "Second Grade Tracking Stories" also won first place in the Family Participation-Youth Outdoor Education category for both blog and newspaper. This week I'll share that essay with you again!

My hands moved slowly over the pebbled beach as the waves of Lake Superior gently lapped the shoreline. I had found myself a nice spot to sit on the beach, close enough to the waterline to gaze at the rocks being gently tumbled by the waves, but far enough back to have a dry place to sit. As I surveyed the pebbles around me, I spotted what I was looking for. The waxy, red-banded surface of an agate poked out from the shore, beckoning me to pick it up. And though I had found the treasure I was seeking, I was determined to find more during my time along the beach. 

Rosie Wollums is about to start her Junior year as an Environmental Studies and Creative Writing major at Coe College. Being in the Northwoods for the first time as a Summer Naturalist Intern at the Museum, Rosie was excited to explore and visit Lake Superior. There she met a snapping turtle with mystery and empathy.

Late summer days are a kaleidoscope of vibrant flowers in all colors of the rainbow. Some of the blossoms have their perfect petals neatly arranged while their leaves form regular patterns up their stems. They are a testament to the precision that can be written into genetic instructions for growth.  I find myself drawn to the weirdos, though, like the pearly everlasting flowers woven into a new shape by black-spiked caterpillars, or the milkweed leaves whose tattered appearance hints at a feeding frenzy. These weirdos are great examples of how our relationships with other beings can be both messy and emergent. 

The flower head looked odd. Pearly everlasting—with their beautiful flat-topped cluster of white flowers with yellow centers—had finally bloomed. And now the petals would dry out and hold their shape for many months. Except, as I walked past the small patch of native plants between the Museum and the Forest Lodge Library, I noticed that one of the flower clusters was a shapeless blob of petals. Peeling open a corner, I spotted yellow stripes, red dots, and multi-tipped black spikes. Yikes! That's what this American painted lady caterpillar wanted me to think…and then to leave them alone.  Some gardeners might be frustrated to lose a few flowers, but hosting native insects is exactly why we plant native species in our gardens, instead of importing species from all over the world who don't play a positive role in our local ecosystem.  Walking slowly, I scanned the flowers for anything out of place, any disruption to the normal patterns. On the dark center of a black-eyed Susan, I found a small green anomaly. Crouching down, I found myself face-to-face with the fierce scowl, long horns, and serrated edges of a jagged ambush bug. Some people fly halfway around the world to witness the dramas of nature play out on the African savannah. I found plenty of action walking halfway around the yard. 

Katherine Woolley is about to start her senior year as an environmental education major at Western Colorado University. When Katherine arrived for her second round as a Summer Naturalist Intern at the Museum, she announced that she hit a certain age and suddenly became a birder! This week she shares a neat ornithological observation. "'Peep peep peep peeeep PEEP PEEEEEP peep peep' I rolled over in my bed and groaned. Spring had come early to Colorado's Gunnison Valley where I attend university. A flash of yellow on my window bird feeder caught my attention. There perched a male house finch sporting banana-colored belly feathers where the red normally is."

The Wild Wonders Summer Camp kids chattered away as they dug into their lunches, oblivious to the yellow-bellied sapsucker who skirted up and down the bark of the tree just a few feet away, in search of their own lunch. I watched as the sapsucker took flight, their speckled wings flapping quickly through the trees, until they landed on the bark of another tree and disappeared! It took me a second to realize that they had entered into a small hole hidden in the bark of the tree. Had I not watched them enter, I never would have noticed the hole high up in the bark, or learned of the nest inside. But I could not focus on the yellow-bellied sapsucker nest for long. My campers had finished lunch and were getting restless.