Stand Up, Speak Up, Take Action

A Mother's Love

It has become obvious to me that my mindset of late is too focused on the negative. Whether it is the result of all the bad news bombarded at me daily by the various media or that it is just my natural point of view I cannot say for certain. The events of the past twelve months could disillusion even the most optimistic person.

At times like these, I turn to my journal and write nonstop until the deep-seated truth rises to the surface. Today was no exception. After two handwritten pages, the words come flowing out. My passions have always been, in no particular order: animal welfare, human rights for all women and protecting the environment. What emerged was the wide gap between my intent and my actions. It is easy to sit back and point out the wrongdoings of others and not look within at my contribution or lack of, towards making the world a better place.

I see how my actions impact the natural world, making demands on a landscape already strained by pollution and human overpopulation. My overconsumption demands a market for low-priced products that generates inhumane working conditions for people in developing nations. My silence allows the voices and actions of the few to dominate the safety and welfare of the many.

The original intent of my blog was to write about the connection between nature and people. I wanted to share my observations about animals and their habitat so that my readers could see there is a common thread between all of us on this planet Earth. The more we know about the natural world, the less fearful we will be of it and the more compassionate we will be towards its survival. I still hold fast to that intent, even when my words sound foreboding and sad.

In the past, my new year’s resolutions were like most people. I wanted to lose weight, save money, devote less time to work and more towards family and friends. This year’s resolution is different. I’ve decided to live the change I want in the world. I want to know that the decisions I make affect others in a positive way making the world better for all.

I expect there will be people who will scoff at me as being naïve or oversensitive. That is okay. But I really believe positive change can happen if, we who have sat silent on the sidelines stand up and speak up.  Speak from the heart; then act.

Happy New Years.

Refuge

2012 has been a bloody year, one filled with civil war in Syria, mutilations in Mali, out of control wildfires, extreme weather and mass murders. Just when I feel safe again another story of horror reaches my consciousness. A young Indian woman brutally raped and beaten on a bus dies last night from her injuries. What was done to her was heinous and unspeakable giving me pause to wonder whether we humans are really the most intelligent animals.

 

This year has revealed more than ever that humans are not exempt from the cruelties of life, sharing that common ground with all other animals and plant life on this planet. Each one of us, be it a  wolf, a redwood tree or a human being, is born, matures, relishes in the pleasures of life, suffers and eventually dies. There are no exceptions.

These thoughts trouble me. I want life to always be cheerful, to believe that everyone has a roof over their heads, food in their stomachs, the love and protection of family and friends. I don’t want to hear that there are people in the world, so filled with hate that they will inflict harm to anyone or anything that crosses their path. Safe in my home, these stories haunt me. I have no way to understand the intense fear felt by those directly experiencing that hate and yet, I too, share their fear.

When I have moments like these, I seek refuge in nature. Listening to the wind, watching snowflakes fall to the ground, laughing at the antics of wildlife in play reorients my thinking. Gone is the anger, the fear, the worry. Given that each of us possesses only a finite number of days in which to experience this lesson called life would it not be a better use of our time here to devote our energies to bringing out the best in ourselves and those around us?

As we all move through the highs and lows of our lives, it would be useful to stop and appreciate the bond that connects us with each other and natural world. Understanding that inflicting violence upon our neighbors, our environment hurts us as well. Put in that framework, what can we do to bring peace to our world?

Safe Haven in the Middle of a Neighborhood

My Backyard Winter Wonderland

As anyone who has own a house can attest, being a homeowner includes an neverending routine of repairs, renovations and housekeeping. This is especially true when you have a house that was built in the 1970’s. Over the years, the quirks that made the house so appealing when we bought it are now just time consuming, expensive projects to fix.

There have been many times when I wanted to sell the house for something newer or in moments of pure frustration, wanted to tear it down and start over. Although the idea is appealing, tearing down a debt free house just doesn’t make financial sense. But I cannot bring myself to sell this house. Despite its lousy wiring, its leaking windows, what has always made this house so appealing is the land around it.  My yard, the largest on the block, still has many of its original trees. White pines, tall and straight, share the yard with mature red and white oaks and maples. Most of the trees are well over 40 feet tall and in the midst of summer, shade my house from the sun’s rays and nosy neighbors.

The house has the feel of being in the forest with all the benefits of a suburban neighborhood. My neighbors, who prefer to spend most days inside their homes, leave me to enjoy hours of solitude sitting in my back yard. Over the years, I have placed bird feeders, water dishes, nest boxes and brush piles throughout the backyard to encourage wildlife to visit. My efforts have paid off with a steady stream of birds and mammals, frogs and insects that frequent my yard throughout the year.

From my kitchen window I have an up close view of squirrels hanging off my upstairs balcony in pursuit of the sunflower seeds in the tube feeders hanging from the deck floor. Not to mention the times I have awakened to the sight of whitetail deer bedded down on the hillside behind the house. Or finding opossum and rabbit tracks up and down the driveway after an evening of fresh snowfall. Or my favorite, investigating the reason behind my howling cats, noses pressed up against the sliding glass door only to find a family of raccoons staring back at them.

It seems that nature knows when I am fed up with the house. Those are the moments when I spot a pileated woodpecker climbing up a pine tree or the latest litter of babies making their first foray to my feeders. I have created a wildlife safe haven, a refuge in an area that is rapidly losing its natural feel. How could I walk away from that?

“Deep Water Passage”

The Mouth of the Huron River emptying into Lake Superior

“When we deliberately leave the safety of the shore of our lives, we surrender to a mystery beyond our intent.” Ann Linnea, Deep Water Passage.

Christmas is a low-key affair at my home. With just the two of us, the cats and Mr. Wendell, the day centers on eating and watching television. But I did use the day to finish a book I had started to read last week. During this time of the year I often pine for the community where I grew up and this book, Deep Water Passage, fills that void of homesickness. Written by Ann Linnea, it is an autobiography of her kayaking trip around Lake Superior. In celebration of her 43^rd birthday, Linnea used the trip as a pilgrimage into her psyche, using the power of nature and solitude to answer the nagging questions she had about her life.

I am drawn into her story as she faces the dangers of traversing the “She Who is the Biggest”. Having grown up near Superior, I understand the magical power of this large, cold body of water for it calls me whenever I feel disconnected from the world. But I have also experienced her fury; the huge waves that take even the largest ships on the Great Lakes and batter them deep into her bowels. Superior is not to be played with or treated with contempt.

Travelling clockwise from Duluth, Linnea writes of places she visits along the way. When she finally leaves Canadian waters to the Michigan side at Whitefish Point, I feel a sense of home. Her westward voyage along the southern shore of the lake talks of places I have visited often and I can see in my mind’s eye what she saw. I know the land, the people and it is comforting.

My most profound insights come when I am surrounded by nature. Removed from the noise of daily life, I am confronted with only myself. I cannot escape the big questions churning in my mind, fighting the inner conflict between my public persona and who I really am. No conflict exists when I’m on the trail or staying in an isolated cabin. In nature I know who I am.

Ann Linnea’s journey created a profound change in her life, a change that most of us push aside until it is too late. I don’t want to be one of those people who on their deathbed regret how they live their life. Do you?

A Creative Solution to a Bad Situation

Lola  - July 2012

With the onset of winter, I find myself spending my free time reading. I decided to start with the Journal of Wildlife Rehabilitation, a publication of the International Wildlife Rehabilitation Council (www.theirwc.org). An article in the November 3, 2012 issue on raccoons and rabies caught my attention.

New York’s Central Park is a unique urban environment, an 843 acre city park surrounded by roads and buildings. At any given time approximately 500 raccoons live within the confines of the park and during the period from December 2009 – 2011, 133 raccoons collected tested positive for the rabies virus.

The city of New York, state and federal agencies met to discuss ways to address the zoonotic disease that put raccoons, dogs and their owners at risk. Suggestions ranged from culling the raccoon population, oral vaccines and TVR (trap-vaccinate-release). Anticipating resistance from animal welfare organizations and the general public to culling the population, the group decided to use the TVR method.

Three TVR rounds were conducted: the first in February 2010, the second in September 2010 and the last in November 2011. Humane traps were set out nightly throughout the park. Raccoons that were found ill or injured were humanely euthanized, the healthy raccoons rabies vaccinated, ear tagged and released. The first TVR round trapped 11 rabies positive raccoons, none in round 2 and one rabies positive raccoon during the final round. At the peak of the rabies epidemic, 11 rabid raccoons were captured each week. Wildlife officials were pleased with the results of the TVR program but also recognized that without continual TVR activity it was likely that rabies would occur again. But the project did prove that in certain situations, trap-vaccinate-release programs were a viable response to rabies outbreaks.

What I found so interesting in this article was the decision to not eradicate the raccoon population but rather to find a nonlethal means to address what was a public health issue. In this situation, the raccoon population was confined to a geographic area where the introduction of new raccoons was limited. The risk to the human and canine population was minimal as the raccoons were live trapped and vaccinated by experienced wildlife professionals. The significant decline of rabies incidence occurred within a short period of time. Because the process did not include a wholesale culling, the program’s result was a positive wildlife/human story.

In Great Britain this year, a decision to cull badger populations believed responsible for an outbreak of bovine tuberculosis generated a country-wide petition signed by more than 150,000 people demanding that the British Parliament reconsider its decision. Responding to the public outrage, the Parliament delayed action until 2013.

There are no simple solutions when it comes to zoonotic diseases. Trap-vaccinate-release is only practical when the wildlife population in question is small and in a confined area. Culling requires that a large percentage of healthy and infected wildlife be killed with no guarantee that the disease will be eradicated. But I am hopeful that the success of the Central Park raccoon program will guide wildlife experts to consider TVR and other nonlethal solutions when confronted with zoonotic disease outbreaks.

Welcome Winter!!

Rescued Young Pine

Day two of our first winter storm of the season. Yesterday brought rain interspersed with wet snow. Overnight, it changed over to all snow. By morning, there was 8+ inches of heavy, wet snow waiting for me to move out of the driveway.

The sight was reminiscence of last March’s blizzard. We didn’t get as much snow today as in March, but the storm’s damage was identical. After snowplowing the drive and a path to the back storage building, I surveyed the damage. The ground was littered with dead branches, some just a few inches long; others 5 to 10 feet in length. A large limb on the maple behind the storage building was split near the trunk and now hangs precariously over my compost pile and building. Taking the branch down will be a project to be attended to once this storm passes.

As in March the young pines were bent horizontal, laden with 4-5 inches of wet snow. I stomped through the deep snow to shake loose the branches, freeing the young trees from their white prison. I feel a personal responsibility to do all I can to help these young trees survive.

Afterwards, I unburied the ground feeder, refilling it with shelled corn, black oiled sunflower seeds and millet. The water container holds slushy water, just requiring only a brushing away of the snow on the container’s rim.

Exhausted, I went inside. Shedding the now soaked outerwear, I hung everything on the indoor clothes line to dry. When I returned back upstairs, I found mourning doves sitting on my ground feeder. Unlike the squirrels, deer and other wildlife that remain in the warmth of their winter shelters, the doves had ventured out in search of food.

It’s been an hour now since I finished my outdoor work. The young pine that began its day parallel to the ground is now standing at a 45 degrees angle, well on its way to again standing straight up. The wind has returned and the snow falls down not from the sky but from the barren tree branches overhead. The yard is still, the mourning doves have long moved on. Although I refilled all my feeders, I don’t expect any more wildlife visitors today.

My outdoor chores finished for the day, I enjoy the white scenery from the warmth of my living room. After weeks of no snow and dreary overcast days, it finally feels like winter. It didn’t have to come all on one day, but I am glad it has finally arrived.

By All Appearances

Wag-A-Lot - Summer 2003

It looks like we will have a white Christmas after all. The snow, heavy and wet, began falling early this morning. The weather people predict anywhere from 10 – 16 inches over the next 24 hours, so I decided to clear the driveway throughout the day rather than do one big removal.

I am quite a sight when I’m out shoveling. My apparel range from a paint-splatter pair of jeans, a men’s ugly green hoodie and whatever jacket I can find that will fit over all the layers of clothes and keep me dry. With a tuque (pronounced tu:k, what we Yoopers call a ski hat) pulled over my unbrushed hair, I look like some hermit who just crawled out of a cave. So I must admit I was somewhat embarrassed when a neighborhood lady stopped by to chat while I was out shoveling.

Coming from a family with all daughters, you would have thought I would have some sense of fashion. But ask any of my sisters or parents and they would say my clothing choices leave much to be desired. For many years, my outfit of choice was Oshkosh bib overalls, a t-shirt and a pair of Birkenstocks. I was comfortable but that didn’t stop my family from criticizing my clothes even to the point of telling me to change before I could accompany them. I often asked myself why people are so concerned with appearances.

Being around animals, I have witnessed periods of territorialism where members of a group will be pushed or chased away from a food source. But I have never witnessed animals chased away solely based on their appearance. One of the last litters of squirrels that I raised included a male whose tail was amputated when their nest tree was cut down. Wag-a-lot had a stump about 1 inch long with a furry end, much like a poodle’s docked tail. Despite his disability, Wag-a-lot was always accepted by his two brothers and in many instances was the dominant littermate. He climbed as well as the other two and although his jumping abilities lacked distance (squirrels use their tails for balance), Wag-a-lot overcame his limitations and was successfully released.

In my own cat family, there have been numerous instances of compassion for members who looked less than stellar. This was particularly true when Tristan, Max and Thomas had reached the end of their lives. These old guys, well into their late teens/early twenties experienced severe weight loss that accompanies kidney disease and diabetes. They had lost the vigor of youth, their fur now greasy, eyes sunken, and their movement slow and deliberate. But instead of ostracizing the old guys, the younger cats took it upon themselves to groom them. I would often find the younger cats curled around the older ones, keeping them warm and protected.  There was no ridicule, no rejection, only love in action.

I often think that we humans  put too much emphasis on appearances. How quickly we judge others by how they dress, their skin color, their weight and their physical or mental limitations. How many people have we deprived of our friendship simply because they don’t look like us? And what experiences have we denied ourselves because we didn’t take the chance to extend a hand of friendship to someone different from ourselves? Life, like nature is diverse, filled with sights and sounds, smells and experiences that woven together bring a richness and depth to our world. 

Tunnel Vision

I was transferring my photographs from my laptop to my desktop computer this afternoon and came across this picture of an Eastern Chipmunk that lives under my parents’ back deck. All day long this little guy sits under the bird feeder collecting the uneaten seeds knocked to the ground by the birds. I can watch this little guy all day long scurry around the yard.

Over the years, I have saved more than my share of chipmunks. Most of the time, it is rescuing them from one of the neighborhood cats. Despite their skittish nature around potential predators, chipmunks appear to have tunnel vision or very poor eyesight. Too often, I have watched them run directly into the path of waiting cat. Not a very smart move on their part.

But one chipmunk episode remains embedded in my memory despite occurring more years ago. I was at my sister’s home on a cool fall day when she called out to say that a chipmunk had fallen into her in-ground pool. Using her screen paddle, I scooped the little guy out of the cold water. It was obvious that the chipmunk was in shock for he lay listless in my hands. I immediately began treating him for shock, knowing that the longer the chipmunk was traumatized, the more likely he would die.

The first step in treating for shock is to warm the animal in a dark, quiet environment. As my sister wanted no part of a chipmunk in the house, I carried the animal to the shelter of the front porch. I nestled him under my sweatshirt where my body heat could warm his cold, wet body. Within an hour, I could feel him moving around and I was able to safely release him back into the yard.

Feeling content about saving yet another animal, I went about the rest of the day ignorant of the side effects of being a Good Samaritan. At bedtime as I changed into my pajamas, I found that the entire length of my body from my waist to my feet was covered with raised red bites. In my own tunnel vision of saving the animal, I had forgotten that chipmunks are notorious for being flea infested. While the chipmunk warmed under my sweatshirt, the fleas decided that a dry warm human body was a better habitat than a wet, cold chipmunk. How I went through the entire day without noticing that I was bitten or even itchy is beyond me. But that didn’t last long. For almost a week afterwards, I had to cover myself in calamine and dressed in long pants.

Well, we all have tunnel vision at one time or another, making choices that in hindsight weren’t very smart. Guess I cannot fault the chipmunk for lapses in judgment when I am guilty as well.

Feelings of Helplessness

A Play on Shadows

It is difficult to write something upbeat after the events of the past three days.  I was initially upset by the expediency of the gray wolf bill passing through the Michigan legislature. It seems that whenever nature has the audacity to trespass into our space, the first solution is often to remove their presence permanently. Be it pesticides on insects, herbicides on vegetation, traps for small animals or in the case of larger wildlife, open hunting seasons, we humans take the position that who we are and what we want in life takes precedence over every other living thing on this planet.

Then came the news of the Newtown school murders. It is not enough that we indiscriminately kill wildlife, clear cut forests, pollute the air and water but we Americans have the ugly history of killing each other. Twenty six people died Friday morning, twenty of them children ages 6 and 7.

I don’t want to re-hash the issues of gun ownership and control. I have little doubt that there are many who share my position as well as an equal number who feel differently. What drags me down is the helplessness I feel right now compounded by pangs of anxiety stirring in my stomach.

For the second time this fall, I am overly cautious of what is going on around me. The first time it happened, I quickly remedied the situation by leaving the isolated cottage and felt immediately better. But today as I drove downtown, I found myself watching the other drivers for signs of aggressive driving. I checked out the parking lots looking for suspicious looking people. I made my purchases and went directly home.

My Facebook timeline is filled with comments and postings regarding the Connecticut murders. One post from a young mother spoke of possessing a concealed weapon permit believing that carrying a gun allows her to take action if the situation warrants. My anxiety, already shaken, now has me fretting about the number of local citizens who have guns neatly tucked away in purses, backpacks and diaper bags.

This is not how I want to live my life. I don’t want to be afraid of going to the theater, the mall, the office or even a park. Although there have been incidences of violence in the past several years, my hometown is overall a quiet, peaceful community. I want it to stay that way.

I don’t have all the answers but isn’t it time for all of us to sit down and discuss this issue, reasonably and with an aim to make our communities safer for its citizens? Don’t we owe that much for the children who have died?

A Sad Day for the Gray Wolf

Gray Wolf - Photo Credit: Wikipedia

This morning, the Michigan legislature approved the inclusion of the gray wolf to Michigan’s list of game animals. The final bill authorizes the Natural Resources Commission to review the status of the population statewide and determine what measures, including the approval of a hunting season, are appropriate to manage the number of wolves in the state.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service officially de-listed the gray wolf in the western Great Lakes region in December 28, 2011. In less than 10 months (October 17, 2011) after the de-listing, the bill was introduced into the Michigan Senate adding the wolf to the list of game animals. Given that the total Michigan wolf population is less than 700 (US FWS, October 2011), was it necessary to enact this legislation so soon after the de-listing?

Wolf experts and the Native American community question the usefulness of a general hunt season.

"Wildlife biologist Rolf Peterson has studied wolf behavior on Isle Royale for more than 40 years. He says a public hunt could split the animals into smaller packs and actually increase reproduction.

"It's sort of if you kill one wolf, two come to the funeral," Peterson says. "I mean that's just a common sense way of expressing the ability of wolves to respond to any sort of increase in mortality."

Peterson says a hunt designed to reduce conflicts with humans could work, depending on what wolves were killed and how many. But he thinks it would have to be in a very small area.

And Peterson points out that, over the last decade trained professionals have shown that they can move in quickly to get rid of problem animals. "Wolf hunting by the public is not about solving problems. It's about people's desire to kill wolves for whatever reason that might be," he says." (a)

(a)  State Needs to Justify Wolf Hunt, December 4, 2012, Interlochen Public Radio, http://ipr.interlochen.org/episode/state-needs-justify-wolf-hunt/2012-12-04

The bill will be sent to the governor’s office and it is likely that Governor Snyder will sign the legislation. Despite claims from state representatives that this bill only gives the DNR authority to manage and study the gray wolf population, I would not be surprised that a hunting season for wolves will be approved next year.

Learning Something New Every Day

Eastern Cottontail - June 28, 2012

My first experience as a wildlife rehabilitator was caring for several litters of eastern cottontail bunnies. As I quickly learned, most bunnies (as high as 80%) do not reach maturity. Yet for a 20% survival rate, the eastern cottontail is a prolific wildlife species here in Michigan. During peak population periods, rabbit densities can be as high as 100 rabbits in a two-acre plot. (a)

So when I received an invitation to a webinar on the endangered New England Cottontail Rabbit, I must admit I was perplexed based on what I knew about rabbits in my own state. The webinar, sponsored by the Stewardship Network, a Michigan-based environmental organization (www.stewardshipnetwork.org), featured two wildlife specialists working on improving the population of New England Cottontails.

As with most threatened or endangered species, habitat destruction and fragmentation was the primary cause for the decline of the New England Cottontails. Unlike our eastern cottontails who have adapted to the quilt pattern of woody vegetation and open fields, the New England variety prefers early succession forest characterized by dense, tangled shrubbery as protection from predators. As the name implies, early succession forests are the first outgrowing of vegetation after a land disturbance as in the instances of fallow farmlands or utility-cleared rightaways. Over time the shrubs and pioneer trees (such as birch and quaking aspen) mature and die, replaced by longer-lived climax forests.  If a subsequent disturbance does not occur, such as fire, flooding or man-induced harvesting, the habitat needed by the New England Cottontail disappears and in time, the rabbit as well.

Federal, state and local governments in cooperation with universities, nonprofit organizations and landowners have developed conservation strategies to increase the overall population of the rabbit, keeping the New England Cottontail off the Endangered Species list. Some of the focus is on restoring and managing habitats that can sustain the rabbit population. Outreach and education to the community at large is always necessary especially when the cutting down of trees needed to create early succession ecosystems often meets with public resistance. One project of interest to me is the breeding program where young New England Cottontails are raised for future release into restored ecosystems.

It is opportunities like this webinar that remind me of the complexities of nature. As much as I scorned the cutting down of mature trees, there are wildlife and vegetation whose very existence is dependent upon the death and re-birth of forested areas. Interfering in the natural order of the wilderness always has its price.

(a)       Michigan Mammals, Rollin H. Baker, Michigan State University Press

Background Information:

New England Cottontail Rabbits, presented by The Stewardship Network. Featured speakers: Emma Carcagno, University of New Hampshire Cooperative Extension  and Ted Kendziora, US Fish and Wildlife Service, December 12, 2012, http://www.stewardshipnetwork.org

The Unsoothing Song

Great Lakes Freighter on the St Mary's River

I am one of twenty percent of all people who experiences tinnitus, the perception of sound in the ears where no external source is present. (a) Most of the time, the tinnitus doesn’t bother me but after experiencing a rash of ear infections this past summer, the noise is more pronounced especially at night.

Although I love music, the sound of rain pounding on the roof, the trees rustling in the wind, the ability to hear does not rate high as one of my favorite senses. I am particularly sensitive to loud sounds: televisions turned on too loud, firecrackers, cars without mufflers or the ever present booming of radios from cars at intersections. Quiet is my mantra.

So when I read an article in today’s New York Times about hearing loss in marine animals, my interest was pique. NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration) is documenting manmade noise in the ocean. The eventual purpose of the information gathered is to determine the impact of noise on marine life.

Unlike sunlight that can penetrate only the shallow surface of the ocean, sound waves can travel hundreds of miles before dissipating. That ability allows for submarines to operate in deep waters and oil and gas companies to perform deep sea explorations. Add the volume of commercial shipping fleets crossing the oceans and that is a whole lot of noise.

Can you imagine what it must be like to be bombarded continually with outside noise? Unlike people, whales, fish, invertebrates do not have the ability to insert ear plugs to deaden the sound. Their choice is to move to quieter habitats, if available, or tolerate the noise. Studies performed by the U.S. Navy estimate that more than 250,000 animals are injured annually by their sonar activity. (b)

Many marine creatures rely upon vocalization to forage and breed. As the oceans become noisier, will these animals be able to adapt? Or will there be evidence of profound deafness that will result in a reduction in the population through reduced breeding and inability to find food? Are there ways we can reduce the level of noise from human activity that will alleviate the problem underwater?

We are familiar with the whale songs, whose mournful tunes are haunting and beautiful. It would be a shame that the whale is forced into silence; first for the impact on its own survival and second for the pleasure that their songs bring to the world. To not enjoy this soothing sound of nature would be such a loss for all of us.

(a)   American Tinnitus Association – www.ata.org
(b)   A Rising Tide of Noise is Now Easy to See, William J Broad, New York Times, 12/10/12, http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/11/science/project-seeks-to-map-and-reduce-ocean-noise-pollution.html?_r=0

Another Cat in the News

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

On Saturday, a bobcat (Felis rufus) was videotaped walking along the freeway in Orange County, California. As a general rule, bobcats are reclusive, nocturnal creatures so the daylight sighting of an adult walking near a busy interstate was very unusual. Law enforcement determined that the cat was not endangering the public and allowed it to leave the area on its own.

We are fortunate in Michigan to have three wild felines: the cougar, the lynx and the bobcat. As you can see from the diagram below, at first glance, it is easy to tell that the three animals belong to the same genus, Felis.

Source: Michigan Department of Natural Resources

Bobcats are often misidentified with their feline relative, the lynx.  If you are fortunate enough to see a bobcat or lynx out in the wild, here are some of the key distinguishing characteristics to help you identify which cat you have encountered:

·         The bobcat has a longer tail with black coloration on the topside of the tail and white on the underside. The lynx’ tail is shorter (bobbed) with a black tip.

·         The ears of the bobcat are round with short black ear tufts; the lynx’ ears are pointed with long black ear tufts.

·         The lynx’ paws are large and broad; the bobcat’s are also large but narrower.

·         The fur on the bobcat is soft, fine and moderately long. In the summer, the guard fur is shorter and reddish in color transitioning into longer, more grayish fur in the winter. The fur on the upper body is characterized with regular dark spotting and splotches. Lynx’s fur is thick, long and silky. Their under fur is buff brown, the longer guard hair is gray-banded with black tips.

·         In terms of habitat, the bobcat prefers deciduous or mixed deciduous/conifer forests, mountains and deserts. You can often find them moving along streams and rivers. As for lynx, their habitat of preference is conifer forest utilizing dense white cedar swamps. Lynx avoid open fields and clear cut areas.

‘Wild Kingdom’? Brazen Bobcat Strolls Along 73 Freeway « CBS Los Angeles

‘Wild Kingdom’? Brazen Bobcat Strolls Along 73 Freeway « CBS Los Angeles

The Strange and the Unusual, Part 1

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

I am continually amazed and fascinated by nature’s strange creatures. From the blobfish who inhabit the dark depths of the ocean to the Philippine Tarsier, one of the smallest primates on this planet, the world is a never-ending source of the bizarre and rarely seen.

But strange creatures are not limited to the animal world. An exotic tree, the Baobab (Adansonia digitata) found in Africa, India and Australia, captures the imagination in its unusual appearance. I have often seen photographs of the baobab but until I took an ecology class, did not know much about the tree.

The baobab is a large tree, up to 100 feet tall and 35 feet wide and can live for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Adapting to its environment of a short, heavy monsoon season followed by an extended dry season frequented by wildfires, the baobab possesses a thick cork-like trunk that retains water to nourish it through the drought. Another adaptation is the sparse branches located at the top of the trunk. The tree has the appearance of being torn out of the ground and replanted with its roots extending upward.

The baobab provides the residents of the savanna with a wide array of useful products. Its bark is used for roping and cloth, the leaves and fruit, called monkey-bread, are edible. Its trunk has been used for shelter and the branches, homes for Galagos, (commonly called bushbabies), another tiny primate.

Like so many large trees, the baobab has been fallen prey to over-harvesting and clear cutting activity for agricultural purposes. In Madagascar where the baobab is its national tree, the government has established initiatives to protect and re-establish baobab forests. For the people, wildlife and the ecosystem dependent upon the survival of the baobab, let’s hope that these initiatives are successful.

The Spirit of the Season

My favorite ornaments placed high upon the tree, well out of the reach of my cats. ;-)

The warm, pleasant days of Monday and Tuesday gave way to a dark, overcast sky this morning. With a weekend forecast of snow and colder temperatures, I decided that it made sense to purchase my Christmas tree while the weather was reasonably good.

Over the years I had purchased trees from a variety of locations from cut your own (not recommended when the snow is up to your waist and you have to drag it a quarter mile to your car), a tree farm where you pick out the tree and some nice guy cuts it down and loads it into your car to the local tree lots with various levels of customer service. I opted for a farm market where I have purchased my trees in the past and is located close to the house.

I was not successful in my search for a blue spruce. It seems that a disease has been damaging the tree and the few on the tree lot were not very large or particularly well shaped. I found a Fraser fir, the tree that I had selected last year; but then discovered a fringed, longer needled tree named the Grand Michigan. The Grand had a pleasantly fragrant citrus aroma, unusual for an evergreen. It was large tree, well over seven feet. I walked back and forth between the two trees, finally deciding upon the Grand. I was sold by its aroma and the unusual needles.

As in years past, the poor tree’s top hung out the back of my car’s hatch. It was a safer alternative to tie down the hatch versus securing the tree to the roof of the car. Although I don’t live far from the market, the last thing I want to have happen is the tree slipping off the roof and having to lift it back on the car by myself.

The tree arrived safely and I pulled it into the house. Isabelle couldn’t restrain herself. As soon as I brought the trussed tree into the room, she sniffed the perimeter. Then, my official tree supervisor, Sundance arrived. Sundance has an affinity for artificial trees so he must have been disappointed to find that this tree could not be dismantled as easily as the fake ones. Gabriel, not to be outdone by the other two, checked out the netting that enveloped the tree. The remaining cats seem unfazed, opting to take their late morning naps.

The whole decorating process took better part of the afternoon. The glass ornaments were now safely secured on the top, the durable, cat-proof ones on the bottom. I poured water into the tree stand, hoping that this year Gabriel will refrain from lapping up the resin-tinged water.

This time of the year always brings back memories of Siegfried, my first cat. He would dig through the boxes of Christmas items, pulling out ornaments and dragging garland around the house. Siegfried embraced Christmas with childlike wonder.

Since Siegfried’s passing years ago, only Sundance has come close to sharing the same love of the holidays. But I cannot complain about the cats for I have to admit, I too, have become rather a Scrooge. There was a time where I trimmed the windows in lights, hung greenery over the railings and played carols ad nauseum from Thanksgiving to New Years. Although I have gotten my Christmas cards mailed out, I have yet to shop for gifts and the time is running out.

Where did the wonderment of Christmas go? In some ways, I attribute it to the lack of snow. Christmas as a child was shopping with my Father, bundled up in heavy winter clothes, slipping and sliding over icy downtown sidewalks. With all the green Christmases of late, it is difficult to recreate those memories I hold so dear. 

But Christmas isn’t about snow, or gifts, or trees or even carols. Christmas is the celebration of faith and family. So I’m going to listen to my albums of Christmas carols, pour myself a glass of eggnog and relax with my family in front of my newly decorated tree and reflect upon the true spirit of the season.

Cognitive Dissonance

Photo Credit - Wikipedia

Two coyotes were photographed in front of Wrigley Field last week. The story was featured nationally on television and on the web. While we are accustomed to seeing squirrels, raccoons and birds in urban settings, the sighting of much larger wildlife, especially carnivores, is often of concern to the general public.

The story, along with the photographs released raised two issues for me. The first, as always, is the recognition that we humans are intruding on the landscape needed for wildlife to live successfully. As we encroached further into wilderness areas, these exchanges will occur more frequently and often with fatal results for the wildlife involved.

The second and more introspective thought is the dissonance of the photo itself. The image of two coyotes walking across the front of an urban sports facility doesn’t resonate with the contemporary view of nature being separate from the human experience. How and why were those coyotes in central Chicago, located far from any natural area? Were the coyotes just passing through or had they set up a new territory within the confines of the city?

Over the past month, I decided to return to the workforce. I sent out resumes, contacted business colleagues and even took on a short-term contract project. The process was familiar and there was a comfort level in returning to the work that I had done for so long. But there is a kernel of discontent building within me. As soon as I made a commitment to the contract, I was inundated with opportunities more in alignment with my current life without work. Yes, the money, the frequent interaction with friends and colleagues and the energy of being back in the bustle of downtown does bring excitement to a life that has been devoted to quiet and reflection. But I have found myself entirely focused on the job, pushing aside what I had thought was important soul-searching work.

On my blog, I put a quotation from Bertrand Russell as a permanent feature. The quote “It is the preoccupation with possessions, more than anything else that prevents us from living freely and nobly.” I came across this quote over the summer and it resonated so strongly with me that I have set it up as a daily message on my calendar. I have become a victim once again to the preoccupation of possessions, in my case: money, recognition and sensory excitement. Perhaps that is why I now see soul-searching opportunities everywhere. My soul is reminding me to seek a balance between the material and the spiritual.

Where’s the Snow?

December 14, 2011 - A rainy days in the woods. Will 2012 be another mild winter?

I went outside this evening to put out the dumpster for tomorrow’s garbage pick-up. At this time of the night (7:30 pm) the temperatures should be dropping. Instead it has climbed two degrees to 58° over the past hour. All the Thanksgiving weekend snow has melted as well. This weather wouldn’t be unusual if the calendar showed October, but today is December 3^rd. At the very minimum, the ground should be blanketed with a layer of the white stuff and evening temperatures hovering in the 20’s.

It looks again like another mild winter. Of course, Mother Nature has a way of making me eat my words and this spell of unusually warm temperatures could change overnight into a blizzard. But for this late in the year, I am appreciative of the warmer than normal temperatures. No boots, mittens or heavy coats are required. I don’t have to scrape ice off my windshield or turn up the car seat heaters.

But it does give me pause to wonder what this strange weather is doing to the wildlife and plant life outdoors. Are the bears, chipmunks and bats hibernating? If they are not, will they be unprepared if and when winter does arrive? What will happen to their life cycles if they don’t get the requisite 3-4 months of deep sleep?

Many animals time their breeding seasons to correspond with spring births. With a warmer winter, will babies be born in January and February, rather than in March and April? And will they survive if the weather returns to its normal blustery pattern?

I recall last winter when all my forsythia bushes began to bud in February. Many of the buds dropped off the branches, unable to grow in the colder temps that returned after the warm spell. The local orchard crops took a beating as well when unusually warm March temperatures accelerated the flowering of cherry and apple trees. Then April came and the temperatures plummeted, killing the blossoms, ruining most of the year’s crops.

As I write, heavy rain has started to pour down. I am grateful for the high temperatures for there will be no icy roads tomorrow. But it is winter and living in this area of the state, snow is expected. Businesses here depend upon it and the employees whose livelihoods rely on tourism and winter activities will pay a large price as well. With a sigh of resignation, I have to admit, it is time for snow and winter to come.

12-1-12

I like the symmetry of today’s date. For the next 31 days, each date will follow the same pattern, twelve, the day, and then twelve again. By the time we reach January 1^st, it will be another 88 years until that date pattern returns. I will be long gone and its symmetric beauty will be for others to embrace.

For symmetry to exist, yin must be accompanied by yang. After a week of focusing on money issues and methodically attending to household chores, I received an e-mail from the University of Michigan’s Center for Japanese Studies where they announced that their archived noon lecture series was now available to view on line. I scrolled through the three years of lectures and stopped at the title Rashomon’s Shadow. A Columbia professor in Japanese Literature spoke about the 1950 film, Rashomon and its director, Akira Kurasawa’s use of personal history to craft his films.

I listened to the lecture intently. As a fan of Kurasawa’s movies, I didn’t know much about his personal life so the story about how the destruction of his hometown, Tokyo, first by an earthquake, then at the hands of Allied bombers, followed by the suicide of his beloved brother had replayed itself through his films was a revelation to me. Thoughts filled my head, so I took to my journal. How has my history impacted who I am?

Each of us colors our lives with pieces of our past. The current psychology of reframing the missteps of our youth, rewriting it so to speak to make our present existence more palatable seems to run counter to the life of the artist. The artist doesn’t attempt to whitewash the pain but rather holds it tighter as if reliving it daily brings purpose to her existence. Through that pain beauty and vulnerability emerge, expressing itself visually and audibly. It is little wonder that many artists are emotionally fragile, a large price to pay for creativity.

Is that why I am drawn to the arts? Does listening to Beethoven or viewing a Picasso tap that intense vulnerability that permeates every cell in my body? My own creations are often utilitarian and devoid of emotion. Am I afraid of exposing my true self to the world, fully aware of the risks that come from being so exposed? To be that open you must be willing to sacrifice everything.

When I published my first post this past August, I began the journey of tearing down the walls that have shielded me from the pain that comes with growing up. Despite decades of life, I am still afraid of criticism, even from those whose respect and opinion hold little meaning for me. I cower and regress into myself where I face the ugliest critic of all: myself. But like the closing scene of Rashomon, I too am the woodcutter who sees redemption in the finding and embracing of a baby. My baby is my writing, still young, vulnerable and open to all that life can give.

Rashomon’s Shadow – University of Michigan, Center for Japanese Studies, September 23, 2010

http://www.umich.edu/~iinet/media3/cjs/10-11/anderer_20100923/

Biography - Akira Kurasawa - http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000041/bio

Rashomon - http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0042876/