Beware of the Black Cat



Oliver



Today is Halloween and the bowl of chocolate sits on the table near the front door. Halloween is one of those holidays that I would completely miss except for the barrage of candy advertisements and horror films on TCM that overwhelms my senses. Being a good neighbor, I pass out the candy, oohing and aahing over the princesses, pirates and assorted cartoon characters that will cross my door way this evening.

My ambivalence towards this holiday has much to do with the impact trick or treating has on my family of cats. Frightened of the door bell, in mass they scramble and skid across the laminate floors, bolting down to the basement. This pattern of running downstairs is repeated until seven o’clock when I hand out the last piece of chocolate and turn off the lights. For some of my cats, the anxiety is so great that they hide for several days afterwards only emerging upstairs after bribes of their favorite food.

Cats, black cats in particular, are symbolic of Halloween. Associated with witchcraft, many cats have fallen victim to ritualistic cruelty and death. For their protection, many shelters prohibit the adoption of black cats during the month of October. Having three black cats in my home, I have seen little evidence of satanic behavior in them. For that matter, Mama, Gabriel and Oliver are first rate love kittens who take every opportunity to climb into my lap for cuddling. If kitty kisses are the work of the devil, I guess there won’t be a room for me in heaven. Hopefully there will be a sunny spot for me on the other side of the rainbow bridge.

Life In Color

The backyard this morning. The windchimes have twisted together but my pine tree is still standing strong.

There will be no going outside today. The effects of Hurricane Sandy have arrived, bringing with her hours of high, gusty winds. There has been no rain or snow so far, but the sky is onerous and may be just a matter of time before the precipitation falls.

Surrounded by trees, I choose to stay indoors rather than risk having a branch drop on my head. But it doesn’t stop me from thinking about the large pine situated right behind the house. An arborist friend cautioned me about the tree, remarking that the raised bed surrounding its base puts the tree at risk of falling over. I can only hope that if it does come down it falls to the east away from my house and the neighbors.

The landscape has the appearance of an old-time photograph of browns and golds. Even the sky has this monochromatic feel to it.  On a day like today, a little color is needed to lift the spirits so when I came across an email from the National Geographic Society, a smile came to my face. In the email was an article called Life In Color. It was a gallery of photos based on various color palettes. From silver to red to purple, the pictures were a fabulous reminder that life is not black and white but a vibrant rainbow of color. I’m sharing the link today so that you can enjoy the photos as much as I have.

http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photos/life-color-kaleidoscope/?source=email_photo&utm_source=NatGeocom&utm_medium=Email&utm_content=pom_20121029&utm_campaign=Content

Nature Doesn't Play Favorites

I admit that unlike most people I have an unusually keen interest in the complexities of the natural world. Many people live their lives inside whether it is in their office, their home or the local mall. I spend a fair amount of time inside too, but even then, I find myself looking out the window watching the interactions of vegetation, wildlife and the weather.

I bring this up because two significant natural events are occurring today. The first is the emergence of October’s full moon. In folk lore, it is known as the Hunter’s Moon, the time of the year when deer and other game animals are at their fattest, prime prey for the skills of hunters who want to fill their winter larders. I had forgotten entirely about the full moon until 3am this morning when my bedroom was unusually bright. I looked out the window and deep shadows crossed the front yard, separated by moonlight. I have been known to go outside on full moon nights to stare at the moon and stars, but on this cold, fall morning, I chose to revel from my warm bedroom.

Tropical storm Sandy, running up the Atlantic coast, has replaced the never-ending, nasty political commentary on television and in newspapers. First thought to veer right and out into the ocean, Sandy has twisted left, bringing rain, high winds and flooding to some of our largest cities. Stories on evacuation notices, runs on food, generators and water that empty store shelves and panicking residents boarding up their homes and seeking higher grounds lead the news.

There is something democratic about weather for it can’t be manipulated to benefit one person over another. Instead, weather has a way of bringing people together: rich and poor, educated and not. Whether it is sand-bagging rising river banks, shoveling snow out of clogged roads and sidewalks, opening homes to neighbors without utility service, weather does bring out the best in people.

I remember being confined to a dark house without electricity.  I played board games with my family in a room lit by candlelight. Despite the cold and dark, we all laughed and talked together. It brings back a slower, happier time when life wasn’t controlled by television and the computer. Those days are long gone and I mourn their passing. So today, in honor of those who face the uncertainly of Sandy, I will turn off my computer, leave my television dark and spend my day with my love ones; one on one, with laughter and love.

Being Part of Your Community

The Mouth of the Huron River and Lake Superior

It is still dark out and I’m finding it difficult to stay awake even with a cup of tea in hand. I got out of bed earlier than normal this morning as I will be going to the Freshwater Summit today and wanted to write my post before I left.

The Freshwater Summit is an annual educational and networking event for people interested in issues facing the Great Lakes and other bodies of water in Michigan.  I attended the Summit for the first time last year. I learned about quagga and zebra mussels and the oligitrophic nature of Lake Michigan, details about the water quality program at the local community college and was entertained with stories told by local nature writer, Jerry Dennis.

I was pleased to see the participation of people not directly connected to public, private and nonprofit environmental organizations. In the past, those of us who wanted to be involved in addressing environmental issues were often dismissed by the professionals as amateurs and sentimental impediments to the real work. But that belief system is being dismantled by the emergence of citizen scientists. Citizen scientists are private citizens who collect and record observations and data to be used by universities, nonprofit organizations and units of government.

As funding for research becomes more difficult to secure, environmental organizations are finding a rich resource of volunteers who are committed and willing to help. Citizen scientists have the opportunity to learn more about environmental issues directly from people working in those fields in return for getting the satisfaction of knowing that their volunteering plays a role in improving knowledge and the planet.

We each can play a role in making a difference in our communities, be it volunteering in a soup kitchen, participating in “walks” for cancer, Alzheimer’s Disease or any number of diseases or causes, running for elective office or becoming a citizen scientist. Don’t be afraid that you have nothing to offer. There is something for all of us. You just need to ask.

Making the Most of Every Day

I spent most of the morning attending to my physical needs; blood drawn at the local hospital, eyes examined at my ophthalmologist.  The drive home was far from leisurely for my dilated pupils rebelled at the bright sunlight glistening off of buildings and pavement. Fortunately, there was little traffic and the stoplight gods were looking favorably upon me.

It is hard to believe that it is late October. Except for the heavy layer of leaves on the ground, everything about the day cries summer. It isn’t even noon and the temperature is already in the seventies and the stiff wind blows warm. There was no way I could stay indoors to write. Using a plastic lawn chair as my computer table, I sit on the back stoop, typing on my laptop.

I had raked last night clearing away the maple and birch leaves that had littered my small lawn around the house. Not unexpectedly, I awoke to find that my raking effort had been futile. The red oaks, resistant to the wind and rain of the past two weeks, have finally succumbed and dropped their burnt sienna leaves in rebellious fury.  The raked lawn is filled once again.

A solitary crow swoops back and forth across the yard, cawing out with no response from her companions. Long past the morning breakfast hour, the yard is empty of wildlife except for that crow and a handful of small birds chirping up in the tall pines. I wish I could say the day was perfect, but cannot. My neighbor, addicted to any yard tool with a motor, blows her leaves into a pile to be chewed up with a branch chipper. Why she does this makes little sense to me. She wears ear plugs, worried about her hearing yet have little concern for the impact those obnoxious tools have on her human and nonhuman neighbors.   I sit here indigent and self righteous, but know that I too am guilty of being an annoying neighbor and keep my opinions to myself.

The wind continues to knock down leaves and I’m constantly brushing them off of my keyboard. It is a small price to pay for such a beautiful work environment. Gracie has jumped off my lap and has wrapped herself in a bed of leaves. Her contented face tells me that I am not the only one who appreciates a day like today.

In less than seven hours, this special day will end replaced by an incoming front of rain and snow showers coupled with drastically colder temperatures. I tell myself that there will be more days like today, a lame attempt to ease into that truth called winter. A friend of mine recently wrote to say that a beloved teacher in her community died of an aneurysm at the young age of 59. She reminded me that we need to make the most of every day. Okay, so my neighbor uses irksome leaf blowers and my dilated pupils make it hard to see in the sunshine. But I am alive, healthy and the day is beautiful. What is there to complain about?

Taking Risks

I’ve lived a conservative life and I don’t mean in the sociological, political meaning of the word. Growing up in a small town, marrying right after college, following the profession of my father, I didn’t take many chances. I was successful at what I did and lived frugally, saving enough money to retire early. Yet, despite these outward successes, I have always felt a kernel of discontent with my life.  At an age now where questions about purpose and meaning rise to the surface frequently, that kernel has grown into the proverbial elephant in the room that I can no longer ignore.

There are times when I feel compelled to return to my career, picking up where I left off. I know that my skills and experience would contribute greatly to any organization in need of my talents. But when the moment arrives to make that contact, something inside me balks and I pull back.

Having the freedom to pursue other interests, I have thrown myself into writing and photography. My writing, once confined to a personal journal has expanded into this blog. Wildlife Outside My Window is now into its third month and is being read in ten different countries. Sometime in November, I anticipate reaching the 1,000 pageview count.

It took me six months to write my first post, fearful of what people would say and think about me. I kept telling myself I am not a writer and what I had to say would be of little interest to anyone else. I wavered for the longest time before I pressed the Publish button, sending my first post into the world. After 53 posts, I’m not afraid of the Publish button anymore.

I am using this flush of self confidence to take another risk. This week, I placed five photographs for sale on the website, Redbubble.com. Friends have complemented my photography and suggested that I put my work out into the marketplace. Like my writing, I have no illusions about my photography skills; Ansel Adams, I’m not. But unless I take that chance, I will never know for sure if my photographs bring meaning to others in the way they touch me.

There are moments in my life when I was pushed beyond my comfort level and abilities. Sometimes I failed dismally and the pain of failure cut me deep. But I have had successes as well that motivated and pushed me into new and unknown terrains. Looking back on my fears, they are more often than not my mind spinning around the worst that can happen and not the best. It has taken me a very long time to understand that and I have no expectation that the next challenge will be any easier or successful. But what I have found is that the elephant in the room is beginning to shrink in size and that is good.

Nature's Quilt

We had a spell of unusually nice weather this past weekend. So late on Saturday afternoon I decided to do a little raking. The sky was a bright blue in color, allowing the sun to shine through the now orange and yellow maple trees. After a short time, I gave in to the futility of raking while so many leaves remained on the trees and settled in with Gracie on my garden bench. We sat there for the longest time, watching the breeze shake loose the leaves from the branches. It reminded me of large yellow and orange snowflakes that swirl in the breeze and land gently to the ground. There was little noise in the neighborhood, the ear piercing screams of leaf blowers and mowers had finally done their work and returned to garages and storage buildings. Only the chatter of squirrels and the singing of chickadees and woodpeckers remained.

My imagination ran wild. Lit by the bright sun rays, the autumnal colors in the trees and on the ground gave my yard a rich golden feel.  I felt like a princess in a castle adorned by colorful jewels of topaz, rubies and emeralds. As I reveled in the moment, I realized that this was a gift that no amount of money could have bought. I had done nothing special except to be open and present to the beauty of the moment.

My perspective about autumn has changed. The fallen leaves are no longer a nuisance to be daily raked and carried to the back recesses of my yard. They are nature’s quilt, there to provide insulation to the tender vegetation of summer and to the winter homes of insects, birds and mammals. Over the long cold months of winter they will decompose back into the soil, providing nourishment for the spring to come. What a beautiful and magical cycle of life.

Discovering a Sense of Place

"To know who you are, you have to have a place to come from."
—Carson McCullers

I have spent most of my adult life in Traverse City. For more than 27 years, I have established friendships, business relationships and a building that I call my residence. Yet, when asked where I am from, this city where I have lived in for all these years is not the answer I give.  My response is always the same, “I’m from a small town in the western Upper Peninsula”.

The ironic part of this answer is when I am “home” I am a stranger there as well. Except for my parents and a handful of relatives, my connection to this community comes from the towns and buildings that trigger the memories and stories of my youth. But the Karen of today is not the Karen that lived there so many years ago. I have grown beyond this place as well.

I have often written that I feel God in nature, but I can also say that I am my most authentic when out in the woods. All pretensions and societal expectations fall away, leaving a woman comfortable in her own body, living in concert to the rhythm of nature.  Who I am, my truths, my purpose, are inextricably woven in the fiber of the wilderness. I cannot separate myself from the natural world without feeling disconnected and lost. Simone Weil has been quoted to say “to be rooted is perhaps the most important but least understood need of the human soul.” For me that rooting comes from the coolness of the soil beneath my feet, the breeze in my face, the warmth of the sun on my body. Then I am home.

Avian Botulism Rears Its Ugly Head Again

Hooded Mergansers

A newspaper story crossed my desk this week that brought tears to my eyes. Avian botulism has once again returned to my community. I first heard of this disease back in 2008 when I attended a workshop on how to become a beach ranger. For a 4 year period ending in 2006, more than 52,000 Great Lakes birds were killed by botulism. The disease had appeared to run its course so when I read about the finding of dead birds along the Lake Michigan shoreline, it brought me back to images of dead birds strewed across the sand.

Botulism spores can lie dormant on land and in the water. The spores become active when environmental conditions such as warmer water and air temperatures, soil and aquatic substrate rich with large amounts of decaying plant materials and anoxic (oxygen deprived) conditions occur at the same time. Considering the hot, dry summer we experienced here in northern Michigan, it should have been no surprise that an outbreak would occur.

The sad theme in this story is the impact that active botulism has on the entire food chain. Botulism spores are consumed by fish and mussels that inhabit the warmer, oxygen-deprived water environments. As primary nourishment for waterfowl, the disease-laden fish transfer the botulism spores to the birds that will eventually kill the animal. The reality that most waterfowl carcasses are typically found on shorelines creates a scenario where the dead diseased birds become easy food sources for other birds and animals. The bacteria that had originated in the water can now impact land based wildlife and domestic pets.

Some of my favorite waterfowl are affected by this disease. The loon with its distinctive black and white markings and its mournful song is one such bird. Many of my favorite travel destinations are selected simply because they are home to loon populations. I love to awake to the song of loons filling the air and having the chance to see them floating across the water in search of food.

The same could be said of the merganser, another bird impacted by botulism. Several winters ago, I spotted a pair of hooded merganser that had taken up residence in the protected waters of the Boardman River. Their unique coloration and head ornaments distinguished them from the families of mallards that inhabited the same area. Throughout the winter, I returned to that spot at the river to watch them swim and chase each other through the current.

There is very little that can be done once an outbreak occurs. How does one vaccinate a body of water as big as Lake Michigan? Or live-trap and treat infected waterfowl? The only possible solution is to look at the mitigating factors that cause the dormant bacteria to germinate. As our summers get hotter and drier and the winters lose their blustery punch, it seems likely that there will be more outbreaks of botulism. It is time for all of us to do what we can to address the ever increasing impact we have on our climate. The loons and the mergansers will thank us.

Doing nothing might be best management decision for forests destroyed by wind or ice

Doing nothing might be best management decision for forests destroyed by wind or ice - ScienceDaily, October 18, 2012

Sometimes it is better to do nothing



I-75 North of West Branch

I missed the only snowstorm during the winter of 2011-12 volunteering for a Japanese language competition in East Lansing. When my friend Wanda and I made the return trip that Sunday, we encountered little evidence of the storm until we reached West Branch, an hour and a half from my home. It was like someone had put up a snow fence along the road, for one minute there was nothing on the ground and the next, all the trees were heavily caked with snow. When we arrived in my neighborhood, a solitary lane was open for cars to pass through and less than a car’s width of driveway available for me to pull up to the house. It is difficult to describe the scene I found: trees were broken with their branches sagging low from the weight of the wet heavy snow. It would take a week of warming temperatures to reveal the extent of the damage done for it was impossible to move around the yard so buried with deep snow.

When the spring came, my sister and brother in law came up to help us trim the damaged trees, removing the branches that dangled dangerously over the driveway and house. The brush pile grew huge as the spindly side twigs were lopped off to create logs for the fireplace. The clearing process took weeks to finish.

I was reminded of this storm as I read this morning’s ScienceDaily. Harvard University scientists performed a study on the effects of clearing away weather damaged vegetation to the overall health of wooded areas. The study revealed that removing dead and broken trees reduced the biodiversity needed for growth of new vegetation and survival of woodland animals, particularly amphibians, in the area. Allowing the down trees to decompose naturally prevented the introduction of invasive plant species that thrive on disturbed land. The study also found that the untouched forest was able to reestablish itself faster than when cleared.

Science has once again proven that letting nature take its course is always the best solution. Not that my neighbors would like that alternative but I could have limited my clearing process to the front yard that is visible to the street. I did retain part of the brush pile in the back of the yard that has now become the home for sparrows and field mice. At least I did something right.

ScienceDaily - October 18, 2012. National Science Foundation (2012, October 17). Doing nothing might be best management decision for forests destroyed by wind or ice.

Lucy on the Loose

I got up early this morning to do some raking before the predicted rain this afternoon. Joining me as I raked was Gracie, my outdoor cat along with Lucy, my indoor kitty who enjoys going out. As my cats get older, I often allow them, under supervision, to be out of doors without a leash. Lucy being the ripe old age of 18 has now earned that privilege so as I walked out the back door, she cheerfully followed.

I began my raking with Luce sitting on the patio looking around. I soon became absorbed in my task giving the old girl the opportunity to do some exploring. It wasn’t long before I realized that Lucy was nowhere to be found. In a panic, I scour my yard and that of my neighbors in hopes that she hadn’t wandered far. Ten minutes later, I saw her walking across the neighbor’s back yard, now on a mission to check out the hillside. Needless to say, I quickly captured the intrepid wanderer and sent her inside.

Lucy is a smart cat so it’s not that she isn’t able to defend herself, but time has robbed her of her hearing. Neighborhood dogs and cats sneak up on her, startling and sending her into a howling frenzy. She even slept through the holiday fireworks that sent my other cats scurrying into the basement.

Lucy has been with me since she was 3 months old. I had adopted her as a playmate for my one year old Max who had decided that tormenting older brother Tristan was his purpose in life. By bringing home a kitten closer to Max’s age, I thought the two would become playmates, freeing poor old T from the constant harassment.

Well that plan didn’t quite work out well. Lucy, headstrong and feisty from the onset, took one look at the other two male cats in the house and set down the rules. “Mess with me”, Lucy showed and “I’ll kick your butt”. And butt kick she did and still does. With Max and Tristan passed on, Lucy now assumes the role of eldest cat, regal, proud and still queen of the house.

Am I Living My Purpose or Am I Just Doing?

Every morning between 7:30 and 8 am, I refill the bird feeders in anticipation of the day’s wildlife activity.  With the onset of autumn, the days grow shorter and I now find myself performing my routine while it is still dark. It doesn’t seem that long ago that the sun rose early and set late into the evening.

Until this past weekend leaves in the backyard still glowed with various shades of green. Then overnight, as if someone spray painted the leaves, the maples had turned into an impressionistic painting of yellows, reds and oranges.

The families of deer that have passed through my yard all summer have changed as well. The spots have now disappeared and like the adults, the fawns’ coats have grown thick and dark. The bucks’ velvet stumps have been stripped away, leaving behind hard wooden antlers.

Why is it that I cannot see these changes as they occur? I consider myself an observant person. I’m adept at reading body language, identifying nuances in behavior among friends and colleagues. Yet I completely missed the transition from summer to fall.  Is it because it is such a gradual process that the mind cannot absorb and comprehend that minute a change? Or is it denial because I love the summer months so much that the onset of colder weather is too much to embrace? Or is it simply that I have multi-tasked myself so much that I miss the nuances that bring richness to everyday life?

I think all of us are guilty of trying to do too much. In a world where technology allows for instant gratification and action, we have become a society of doers not beings. When was the last time you had a conversation with your friends without the interruption of cell phones and computers? Drove a car without the radio blaring? Spent time with your family doing something other than watch television?

Looking back on the number of opportunities I have passed up because I was too busy, it begs the question: am I living my purpose or am I just doing? Only I can answer that question for it is a reflection of who I am and what is important to me.

So I ask you, are you living your life with meaning and purpose or are you just doing?

The All Pervading Presence of God

 

“All of life, from the universe as a whole down to the individual trees and seeds, every living creature and the very earth beneath our feet, expresses the inspiration of the souls that dwell within it and ultimately of the Great Composer whose creation it is.”

Ranchor Prime, Vedic Ecology, page 16

Monday morning. Awareness comes at the least expected times. I had simply wanted to write my Monday post the evening before. Sunday afternoon I had pulled the Vedic Ecology book out of my bookshelf to re-read and from the book’s words, brought back for me the relationship between life’s purpose and nature. Within an hour, the post was written and I went to bed.

Hours later, I awoke in my dark room. Outside, the rainwater glugged down the roof and the wind howled. No more summer breezes but a stiff northwest wind that even sounded cold. But for the first time in ages, my mind wasn’t racing. By writing about my spiritual connection with nature I had reset that awful fear message that had been running through my mind constantly since my trip home. I know what I need to do now to find peace in my life.

The following is that original post that I wrote Sunday evening.

Sunday evening. I’m not much of a shopper; but when it comes to bookstores, I’m an addict. Used, new, fiction or nonfiction, it really doesn’t matter to me. Over the years I have bought and given away hundreds if not thousands of books.

I read primarily nonfiction, in particular books of natural history and philosophy. So when I found a book, titled Vedic Ecology, Practical Wisdom for Surviving the 21^st Century I bought it on sight. It wasn’t a long book, only 155 pages on unusually heavy weight paper. Black and white drawings and photos were sprinkled among the thirteen chapters with each chapter prefaced with a verse from various Vedic philosophers. Needless to say, I sat down in the coffee shop of the bookstore and had worked my way through a third of the book in a short time.

Ranchor Prime, the book’s author, intertwined the Vedic (Hindu) religion with the environmental crises we face today. He discussed how consumption and materialism has led to a general unhappiness among people and offered an alternative in the form of nature and community. The heart of the Vedic religion is the relationship between Krishna, his followers and the natural world. In traditional Vedic communities, the tree represented patience and tolerance. Forests were a source of lumber, food and fuel but also the place where God’s presence could be strongest felt. When the forest was sacrificed, people lost their relationship with the Divine and each other.

Throughout my life, I have sought a connection with the spiritual world. I became a religious nomad moving from the church of my youth through various doctrinal and secular denominations. All had much to offer but they rarely connected my deep seated love of nature to their belief systems. I finally gave up the search to affiliate myself to a particular church but never stopped looking for God and the meaning of my life.

My journey continues. Some days I feel God’s presence in all that I do and other days, I feel so far away.  I’ve connected those distant feelings to days that focus on societal expectations of pursuing money, power and reputation. So draining are those distant days, I physically crave to be outside where I can re-balance my spiritual self with the physical me.

As autumn transitions into winter, I find myself inside more of the time with that uneasy feeling that comes from too much technology and not enough nature. It is time to pull out my gloves and hat, umbrella in hand and walk with God.

What's Happening to the Turtles?

Painted Turtle
Photo courtesy of Wikipedia and US_BLM_painted_turtle_picta_pic2.jpg

The biggest local news story of the past week was the breach of the Brown Bridge Dam located in southern Grand Traverse County. Along with the damage to homes and flooding threats to roads and bridges, the breach reduced the Boardman Pond’s water level by three feet, exposing fish and turtles living in the waters.

Days after the breach, the local television station showed a segment where wildlife biologists from the Michigan Department of Natural Resources sought out and captured painted and snapping turtles from the dewatered pond in an attempt to rescue as many possible. Turtles burrow into the pond’s bottom during their winter hibernation using the layer of water and ice above their burrows as insulation.  With the winter season now approaching, the dried pond would not adequately protect the turtles, exposing them to freezing and death over the winter.

Turtles hold a special fascination for people. As one of the few survivors of the prehistoric dinosaur era, the turtle has changed little over the millennium. In Michigan, we have ten species of turtles:  Blanding's Turtle (Emydoidea blandingii) , Common Map Turtle (Graptemys geographica) , Common Musk Turtle (Sternotherus odoratus) , Common Snapping Turtle (Chelydra serpentina) , Eastern Box Turtle (Terrapene carolina carolina) ,Painted Turtle (Chrysemys picta), Red-eared Slider (Trachemys scripta elegans), Spiny Soft-shell Turtle (Apalone spinifera spinifera), Spotted Turtle (Clemmys guttata)  and Wood Turtle (Clemmys insculpta). None of the Michigan species are considered endangered; but as with all wildlife should not be removed from their native environment to be taken as pets.

If you ask any child to describe a turtle, the first characteristic they would mention is the shell. The shell serves as a unique defensive system, a two part self-contained armor in which the turtle can pull in its head and legs for protection. The upper shell, known as a carapace can come in two forms: a hard helmet-shape shell found in land-living turtles and used as protection or a flat, soft skin-like carapace for turtles that live their lives exclusively in water. Like the carapace, the lower shell or plastron’s shape can also be adapted to allow ease in walking or as a hard protective barrier.

Most turtles are omnivores meaning that they can eat both meat and vegetation. But the shape of the turtle’s mouth has adapted to the primary type of food it consumes. Some turtles have a hook mouth that can be used to shred flesh while other has a wide, flat mouth that is better for gnashing vegetation.

In the week since the dam breach, it has been difficult to get updates on the status of the wildlife impacted by the draw down. As with all incidents of this type, the media focus has been primarily on the people displaced by the flooding and the damage to personal property. Emergency efforts have been targeted on securing the breach and assisting displaced families. Except for the one brief news story, little has been said about efforts to assist wildlife or how many animals died as a result of the breach. I will write again on this story, when more information is known.

Living a Richer Life

I’m having writers block this morning. Since I began writing this blog, I have stopped my daily personal journal where I process on paper the daily events in my life. But with all that has happened in the past month, I returned to my journal to express thoughts not appropriate for public consumption. After 30 minutes of journaling, I have a better perspective on the day but find myself devoid of ideas for this blog.

So I went in search of ideas and stumbled upon National Face Your Fears Day. Technically, I missed the official day, that was this past Tuesday, October 9^th. But the concept behind the day was so intriguing:

“Take a moment to consider what your life might be like if you conquered some of your greatest fears. What would you do differently? Face Your Fears Day gives you the chance to stand up to your fears, overcome them, and to seize the day.”  http://www.daysoftheyear.com/days/face-your-fears-day/

Taking this premise, I looked at various lists and came up with the following fears and phobias:

The Dentist

Dogs

Flying

Thunder and Lightning

The Dark

Heights

Other People

Scary places

Creepy Crawlies

Snakes

http://www.livescience.com/13434-phobias-fears-acrophobia-heights-agoraphobia-arachnophobia.html

Another list:

Spiders

Heights

Open Spaces

People

Flying

Dogs

Night

Thunder and Lightning

Closed Spaces

Death

http://realityplex.com/top-10-most-common-fears-and-phobias/

What I found was that half of the top ten fears originate in nature. Why are humans so afraid of animals and the natural world? To me, it is the lack of control. It is not in my power to stop night from coming or to prevent thunderstorms. Death is inevitable no matter how advanced medical technology has progressed. As for those phobias I confess to, such as snakes and heights, I go out of my way to physically avoid situations where I may encounter either or both.

But the point of Face Your Fears Day is the question of whether my life would be richer if I faced these fears head-on. If I overcame my fear of heights, I could scale mountains and have the opportunity to see the world from a different perspective. I could experience firsthand, the lives of eagles and condors, the wolverine and the mountain goat instead of watching them on television or reading about them in books.

Fear of snakes and blood, not on the top ten lists above but on my personal top ten, prevented me from going to veterinary school. My life would have unfolded so differently had I faced these fears and followed my heart.

Living life in hindsight is easy; living in the moment is not. I’m at a point in my life that to begin veterinary school would be financial foolishness. But I can return to wildlife rehabilitation, a healing profession that gave me so much satisfaction and pride.  I can learn techniques to overcome my fear of heights with the goal of climbing a tall tree or a mountain. That is well within my reach and only requires me to take that first step.

Oodles of Babies

I write often about squirrels so when I decided not to write about them for awhile, of course they emerge in every corner of my life. Yesterday was squirrel day at my home. It appeared that all of the neighborhood squirrels had converged in my back yard to clean out the feeders that had been refilled that morning.

It was an active scene with plenty of chases, skirmishes and chattering. What really caught my attention was the number of very young squirrels. By their size they were likely summer babies born in August and now around 7-8 weeks in age. Their fur and tails are fully developed just like the adults but they still possess that baby tummy that first appears when they are 4-5 weeks old. Four of them descended upon the bird feeders close to the house. Only one, the grey squirrel had figured out how to jump onto the large feeder to feast on the bonanza of sunflower seeds. The other three stayed on the ground, benefiting from the scattering of uneaten seeds by the grey baby.

Seeing them reminded me of my first litter of squirrels that I wintered over due to their age. [See September 12, 2012 post] Unlike my little guys, these babies knew their way around the neighborhood, where to find food and how to defend themselves from the older adults. I have to assume they have learned how to build their winter nests although I have seen no nest building by any of the squirrels to date. With the colder nights and the dropping of the leaves, I should be seeing activity in my pine trees in the next week.

I decided last night to pull out my Woodworking for Wildlife book to find the plans for squirrel nest boxes. Most of the plans only require one piece of ¾ inch lumber or plywood and are easy to assemble. I think I will build a couple of them over the weekend to hang up in the back yard. Maybe one of my new babies will decide to make the box its home for the winter.

The Healing Power of Work and Nature

What has seemed like an endless parade of medical emergencies, long days, sleepless nights, relief finally came in the form of an email from my friend Misaeng. She had invited me to come to a house building event for a local couple active in the sustainable living community. The house is being constructed with straw and a clay-based mortar and will be powered off the grid. I was intrigued to say the least and agreed to go.

So early Monday morning, I packed up my gloves, boots and a change of clothes and drove up to Misaeng’s home where she and her young son, Noah were waiting. On the drive to the house, we exchanged our tales of woe for I was not the only one who had had an eventful September. When we arrived at the homestead, the crew was already at work, mixing the mortar, setting the frames and stomping the straw into the walls. We quickly jumped into action, toting wheelbarrows of heavy mortared straw and shoveling the mixture into the frames where the younger guys packed it tightly within the walls. With no roof on the house, above us was a beautiful cloudless blue sky, framed with maples, evergreens and oaks.  One of my co-workers talked about how great a zip line would be on the property, where you could sail above the tree line, seeing all the trees in color. I had to agree.

We were served a simple lunch of soup, bread, brownies and warm apple cider. It was delicious and so appropriate for this autumn day. I had the chance to talk with the homeowners about the house and their plans for completion. They had much to do before the snow comes, but the key was completing the side walls so that the roof could be installed.

After lunch, the pace accelerated. We were now operating on a deadline; the various crews had to leave at designated times (including my group) and the young crew of men would not be available after Monday. The work now involved packing the straw into the top of the walls where they meet the roof frame. Being scared of heights it was not a job for me so I packed pails of straw that were lifted to the guys on top of the frame. It didn’t take long for my arms to tire from all the lifting and shoveling so when the time came to leave, my body was spent.

As we drove home, Misaeng, Noah and I were tired but happy. For the first time in weeks, I had forgotten all the drama that had encompassed my life and I had used all that pent up anxiety to help other people in the community. The sunshine and wind had burnished my face, bringing a healthy glow to a pallid skin. My arms, back and legs were tingling from the energy exerted, and I felt so relaxed.

I often walk in the woods when I am distressed for the fresh air, trees and wildlife reset my anxious mind back to calm. But given the severity and length of my experiences of late, no simple walk would have done the job. I needed to work it out of me strenuously surrounded by the woods that I so love. So when I woke up this morning, faced with a long list of tasks to be done, my anxiety rose then quickly dissipated. I may not have resolved all the issues of my life yesterday, but at least I can face them with a calmer mind and a healthier perspective.

P.S. I am grateful for Brad and Amanda for giving me the opportunity to help them in their house construction. I wish them much love and happiness in their new home.

Rethinking How Best to Help

On numerous occasions I have had to defend the work of wildlife rehabilitators from people who believe that rehabilitation was interfering with the natural selection of wildlife. That same argument has been made for bird and squirrel feeders, water containers and nest boxes. Let nature take its course and don’t meddle.

I looked at my rehabilitation work and the placement of feeders, birdbaths and nest boxes as my contribution to offset the destruction of habitat cause by my actions. I choose to drive a car. In order to have a safe transportation system, roads must be built and maintained that may cut across wildlife corridors or destroy habitats in their entirety. My home requires construction materials such as wood, plastics and metals whose manufacturing processes involves logging, extracting and chemical treatments that can alter the landscape and potentially leach toxins into the environment. The list goes on from food I eat, the electricity I use, the clothes I wear to the activities I participate in. I felt that my rehabilitation work and feeders/nest boxes I provided are actions that are ethical and appropriate.

But I do have some reservations. If my ultimate intent is for wildlife to live and thrive in natural habitats would not a better option be to restore my yard into a natural wildlife environment? Am I creating and promoting a situation where birds and other animals depend upon commercially grown seeds and suet cakes rather than their native food? Am I promoting wildlife overpopulation in my neighborhood by providing an artificial food source far in excess of what nature would provide?  

Wildlife experts caution against the use of shelled corn for wildlife. Acidosis (Grain Overload) and Enterotoxemia (Overeating Disease) have been found in whitetail deer populations. Both diseases can cause digestive and intestinal distress resulting in diarrhea, failing coordination and death. Yet corn is a frequently found food in feeders and sold in large quantities at feed stores. In addition, poor maintenance of feeders and bird baths allow for the establishment and growth of e-coli and other pathological bacteria detrimental to a healthy wildlife population.

When I think about the potential risks involve, plus the large sums of money spent annually to refill feeders and replace equipment, perhaps applying that money towards landscape improvements would be a better alternative. Many local conservation districts, land conservancies and extension services offer workshops on native landscaping. Greenhouses and landscape designers have stepped up to offer native plants and garden design alternatives to attract butterflies, birds and small animals. Even the National Wildlife Federation sponsors a Certified Wildlife Habitat program that provides resources on making your yard wildlife friendly.

With the advent of fall, it is too late to stop the filling of feeders and water bowls, depriving my wildlife with a known food source for the upcoming winter. But the winter does afford me months in which to plan changes to the backyard, researching and ordering appropriate shrubs, trees and flowers to plant next spring.

When Bad Weather Strikes

Michigan Weather - Heavy Cloud with alittle Sun!!

One of the running jokes if you live in Michigan is if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes and it will change. The past several days it has been a comfortable 70 degrees with sunshine, warmer than your typical October day and very pleasant for being outside. Even last evening with temps in the low 60’s, I could refill my bird feeders without wearing a jacket. Well, all that has changed this morning. Now, the skies are overcast, the winds blow strong and it’s a not so balmy 50 degrees. Even Lucy, my intrepid 18 year old cat who loves to sit outside on the back patio insisted on coming back inside after only a few minutes.

I’m one of those people who will find any excuse to be outside even if it means wrapped in a blanket sitting on a lawn chair holding a cup of hot coffee. But today, the wind just makes it too uncomfortable so I have resigned myself to finding indoor activities.

When I am not watching and photographing wildlife, I devote many hours a week to reading about animal natural history through the numerous daily e-mails I receive and magazines I subscribe to. But one avenue that I have discovered in the past year is the webinar. For those unfamiliar with them, a webinar is simply a seminar offered over the internet. You register for the event, and then on the day of the seminar, a link is sent to you gaining access to the meeting. Most webinars last about an hour and are typically held during the noon hour or early evening allowing participation by all. The webinars I attend are usually hosted by universities or national wildlife organizations who secure noted experts in the field as speakers. It is like a college class on-line. Most webinars are free to participants and many are archived for future viewing. All you need is a computer with internet connection.

In addition to webinars there are distance learning courses available also through the computer. Some of these courses are free such as those offered by Coursera.org. I’ve signed up for the Animal Behaviour taught by two professors from the University of Melbourne in Australia. The course begins in February and is six weeks in length. If biology classes aren’t to your liking, Coursera offers a full array of courses from business to literature.

Other noncredit online classes may require a registration fee. That is the situation with a course I recently enrolled in through Cornell University. Call Courtship & Rivalry, Cornell University Lab of Ornithology offers a five week on-line course on avian behavior taught by university instructors. The class begins next week, and I will keep you up to date on my progress.

Many local environmental and wildlife groups host their annual conference in the fall and winter too. I will be attending the October 16^th Freshwater Summit here in Traverse City. Sponsored by the Watershed Center of Grand Traverse Bay, the Summit brings in speakers to discuss issues related to the Great Lakes and freshwater ecosystems. I attended this conference last year and it was so fascinating.

For people interested in wildlife and rehabilitation, both the International Wildlife Rehabilitators Council (IWRC) and the National Wildlife Rehabilitation Association (NWRA) host their annual symposiums in the fall and winter. The IWRC symposium is titled “The Science of Rehabilitation” and will be held in Appleton, WI from November 12 to 18, 2012. ( http://theiwrc.org/symposium). The NWRA’s annual symposium will be in Portland Oregon from March 5-9, 2013. Both symposiums are education based, giving participant hands-on and lecture information on current trends and protocols for wildlife rehabilitation.

So, in spite of the weather, I can still use this time to learn more about wildlife and their habitat. When the nicer weather returns, I can apply what I’ve learned to my time in the out of doors.