Nature Note: A Naturalist's Travels Through Nature

May-apples ( Podophyllum peltatum ) As summer steadily marches towards us, the countryside reminds us about the wonderful variety of wildflowers that flock the roadsides and dazzle the fields and woods. Flowers are a universal sign of nature and of her wonderful spread of colors, forms, and scents that blanket the landscape in the warmer months of the year. Many of the flowers we see along our roadsides and throughout our woods and fields are transplants brought over from Europe and Asia. Some like purple loosestrife ( Lythrum salicaria ) and garlic mustard ( Alliaria petiolata ) are nuisance species that take over areas of habitat that other native plants once thrived in. According to a report published in Ecological Economics , "an estimated 5000 plant species have escaped and now exist in U.S. natural ecosystems, compared with a total of about 17,000 species of native U.S. plants." (Pimental, Zuniga, and Morrison, 2004) This is damaging to many ecosystems found in

Mayapples ( Podophyllum peltatum ) When you're out for a walk in the woods, little details can sometimes be lost in the majesty of the trees towering overhead, while summer birdsong rings through the foliage. While the woods are some of my favorite places to hike and bird in, this time of year offers me a chance to see one of my favorite organisms. Plants have the uber important role in most ecosystems as the chief providers of shelter, food, and most importantly, oxygen. According to North Carolina State University's Tree Facts page , a single tree can take in up to 48 pounds of carbon dioxide per year, cementing their value as invaluable converters of this greenhouse gas into an important breathable one. However, the plants I was admiring were not the trees, but a ground level plant grows in what looks like a shrunken and out of place colony of palm trees.  The May-apple is a common woodland plant that starts to appear in the Northeast in early May and continues t

As with Friday, the weekend would prove to be some of the most productive time we spent both birding and networking within our rich community of birders, naturalists, and other lovers of nature observation and appreciation. Saturday was a whirlwind of warbler watching with several wonderful life birds thrown in for good measure. We started as we had the day before, rolling up in the car and into Magee Marsh. Before arriving on the boardwalk, Alison and I watched the optics tent slide past our windows. "I think it's time I bought a scope", I said as I gazed longingly at the rows and rows of tripods. "Well, we could do that now or come back later", Alison replied, smiling. "Later. I want to see if we can find more birds", I answered. "Ok", she said. After parking up, we noticed a huge exodus of cars from the parking lot. We are, in a sense, not the most timely of birders. Most birders are "larks", arriving at dawn or in th

Once in a while it is good to take a break and this past weekend was no exception. Alison and I planned on visiting northwest Ohio for the annual Biggest Week in American Birding festival. The last time we graced the shore of Lake Erie for some of the best birding in the country was in 2013 while Alison had been working in Columbus as a songbird technician. On a whim, she and her fellow techs decided to visit the festival to check out the birds. Her experience was so amazing that she nagged me into driving the eight hours from New Jersey (where I was working as a teacher naturalist at the time) to see the exquisite jewels that flitted from branch and twig. As we arrived in the darkness of Friday morning to our motel (which I will be calling the Rat's Nest for sake of brevity and because I don't intend to get into a Yelp flame war with the owners). Needless to say, the place was less than we had hoped for. While the continental breakfast at most motels leaves little to be desi

It's always wonderful to find a place where you can relax outside. After having lived in central New York for just over a year, I finally feel like I've found a natural area I can call my own. When I lived in Massachusetts, my sacred place was a bend in the Sudbury River along a trail on Heard's Conservation Land in Wayland. After a half mile walk through mowed fields and old farm hedges, I reached the edge of the thicket. The gnarled trail was often muddy due to its proximity to the nearby marsh and in the late summer, it was bordered by goldenrod, vetch, and asters. Sudbury River, Wayland, MA in 2014 As you continued along the trail, tree roots provided chances to trip and ensnare sandals, while low hanging branches gently brushed the top of my head. Occasionally, an overzealous one would batter me in the face as well, but after navigating this gauntlet, you would be met with a wonderful view. The river is old. Lazily it travels along the marshy edges, while red-w

When most people see birds of prey, it's usually from a distance as they soar overhead or as we pass them on the highway, perched high on a branch waiting for their next meal. Since they are wild animals, generally they aren't too keen to stay close when they are suddenly encountered by a surprised human. A few seconds of acknowledged exchange before flushing off to the safety of the woods. On those rare occasions where they will stay still enough for one to observe them up close, they watch us with those wild eyes that distrust anything that approaches too directly. A few years ago, I was lucky enough to photograph a young red-tailed hawk ( Buteo jamaicensis ) sitting on a telephone wire in Concord, Massachusetts. The bird eyed me warily as snapped some photos, but never moved. One could interpret it as stoic pride, but at risk of anthropomorphizing my subject, it seemed more likely that it didn't want to move from it's chosen hunting post. On Sunday, Alison an