Year Round Guests

Tufted Titmouse - Fall 2012

We had heavy precipitation over night; seven inches of wet snow covering the drive and sidewalks. By the time I finished clearing the path to the bird feeders, it was deep into mid-morning. I refilled the bowls and tubes then went inside for breakfast.

There wasn’t much activity this morning; like me the squirrels and birds decided to stay inside until the last possible moment. That changed shortly after I finished my yard work when a crow found his way to the ground feeder. Shortly afterwards a red-bellied woodpecker swooped down from the trees, grabbing a sunflower seed and returned to the safety of the pines. Then the tufted titmice appeared; one after another, pausing momentarily at the tube feeders returning to the overhead branches to eat their seeds.

 Tufted titmice are a common sight at my feeders year round. Their soft gray feathers and large eyes are in strong contrast to their fellow Paridae (PAY-rih-dee) family member: the black capped chickadee. Tolerant of the cold, they remain here in Michigan during the winter months, feeding on the suet cakes and the rich sunflower and Niger seeds that I put out for them.

During the summer months, the tufted titmouse’s diet expands to include insects such as beetles, caterpillars, grasshoppers and ants in addition to the seeds left by neighborhood bird lovers. Their nests are found primarily in natural tree cavities although they will dig out nests in rotten wood. Inside the cavity, the female titmouse will creates a soft bed of moss, leaves, and wools and has been known to pluck hair from live animals such as woodchucks, squirrels and opossums. She prepares the nest in anticipation of her eggs that will come sometime between March and May.

As I write, the last of the titmice have finished their breakfast and disappeared into the trees. With their departure, the squirrels have finally emerged from their nest, taking the titmice’s place at the feeders. The daily routine has returned once again.

Taking A Stand

Grey Wolf - Photo Credit: Wikipedia

Having grown up a six hour boat ride from Isle Royale National Park, the grey wolf has always been played a role in my life. As familiar as the bright blue and white “Ranger” that ferried tourists and supplies to and from the island, the annual report on the status of the island’s wolf population was a regular reminder that true wilderness wasn’t far from my reach.

For most of my life the wolf was just another dog, only larger and less domesticated.  I went to Isle Royale, anxious to see the large predator and always returned home disappointed. The few live wolves I have seen were housed in zoos.  It was far more common to see a wolf, long dead, stuffed and on display in some museum or personal collection.

So my interaction with the wolf has been from afar but no less impactful. I have a visceral connection with the wolf; her expressive howl perks up my ears and brings shivers to my body. Her yellow eyes are penetrating, alert and clear, her body muscular and strong.  There are few animals that appear as self-assured as a wolf. The animal knows that it is a top predator and few will challenge her authority.

While I am intrigued by those characteristics, my fascination is not shared by all. Stories of the big bad wolf can be found in many cultures and in the stories of our youth. We humans often fear those creatures that are faster and stronger than we are for they show that despite our advanced intelligence we are physically the weaker species.

In December, I wrote about the lame duck legislation signed by the Michigan’s governor giving the Natural Resources Commission the authority to declare the grey wolf a game species, opening the door to an open hunting season. Wildlife experts in the state estimate that the wolf population is around 687 individuals almost all of them in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

I was upset that the bill was pushed through during the lame duck session, a time when the party in control can push through their agenda with little public input or discussion.  Given the fact that the grey wolf was delisted from the Endangered Species Act just months earlier (February 10, 2012) and the small population of wolves in the state, it didn’t take much imagination to figure out just who was behind this legislation. As wolves are typically not hunted for meat and there are regulations already in place for dealing with nuisance wolves, the only conclusion that I and many others could come to is that Michigan trophy hunters wanted to add the wolf to their collection.  

I am not much of a political activist; I have my opinions but normally don’t feel compelled to advocate publicly. But in this situation, I cannot sit quietly on the sidelines and do nothing. I attended the Keep Michigan Wolves Protected campaign meeting last night here in Traverse City and took home petition forms to gather signatures.  It is my hope that this campaign will bring to the public’s attention the absurdity of this bill and keep Michigan’s small grey wolf population protected.

An Old Friend Returns

It has been several weeks since I last wrote. During that time, I became gainfully employed in not one but two jobs. Combined, the two positions became a forty hour a week job and I found myself lacking in time and energy to devote to my writing. Exhausted, I wasn’t even remorseful in my lack of creativity. That was until this afternoon.

Taking a break from my work, I walked into the family room to see what the cats were doing. I looked outside to see the usual contingent of grey and black squirrels noshing on the sunflower seeds left for them. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a small squirrel dash up the tree. To my surprise, it was a red squirrel.

The landscape around my home is ideal for red squirrels but for some unknown reason, it is a rare occurrence to see one in the yard. I cared for a few red squirrels during my rehabilitation days and found them to be noisy, energetic creatures in comparison to the more sedate grey squirrels. I love how they chatter incessantly, scolding everyone who crosses their paths.

I grabbed my camera and tripod and tiptoed outside in hopes of capturing a photograph of the little fellow. Not surprisingly, he quickly scampered up the maple and posed for a few second in the elbow of the tree. I got off a couple of shots until he scooted beyond the scope of my lens.

The wet snow soaked through my shoes so I returned to the warmth of the house. I picked up my binoculars and continued to watch the red squirrel as he sat on a horizontal branch 30-40 feet above the ground. After a period of sitting on the branch looking towards the house, he began to spin around the branch, body parallel to the limb. Around and around he went, pausing only briefly on the top of the branch before circling around again.

The work spell that had dominated my life for two weeks broke this afternoon. No longer do I feel compelled to fill up every waking moment with thoughts of making money and meeting unrealistic, self-imposed deadlines. Nature had tired of waiting for me to come to my senses and sent its most enthusiastic cheerleader to bring me back into the fold. And I am happy to be back.

Knowledge, the First Step to Change

Sumatran Orangutan - Photo Credit: Wikipedia

I have to admit, I was one of those kids who used to read encyclopedias for fun. When I grew up, my father purchased a set of Collier’s Encyclopedia to help with our homework.  So whenever I was bored, I would select a volume, randomly open it to any page and read.  I was captivated by exotic countries, the mysteries of science, events that made this country what it is today.

Years later, I do the same thing but now the internet has replaced those volumes of books. Random searches often glean ideas to write about and yesterday was no exception. While looking for natural history information about whitetail deer, I stumbled upon a website called EDGE – Environmentally Distinct and Globally Endangered. The organization, supported by the Zoological Society of London, takes a different direction in the protection of endangered species:

“Using a scientific framework to identify the world’s most Evolutionarily Distinct and Globally Endangered (EDGE) species, the EDGE of Existence programme highlights and protects some of the weirdest and most wonderful species on the planet.  EDGE species have few close relatives on the tree of life and are often extremely unusual in the way they look, live and behave, as well as in their genetic make-up.  They represent a unique and irreplaceable part of the world’s natural heritage, yet an alarming proportion are currently sliding silently towards extinction unnoticed.”  (http://www.edgeofexistence.org)  

I deliberately highlighted the focus of EDGE that distinguishes it from other wildlife protection agencies. Too often, we animal lovers focus our attention and money on those species that touch us emotionally. Who can resist the story of the Giant Panda or the Sumatran Orangutan especially when it includes a photograph of the animal? But what about the story of the Western Long-Beaked Enchidna http://www.edgeofexistence.org/mammals/species_info.php?id=1395&search=focal or the Long-Footed Potoroo. http://www.edgeofexistence.org/mammals/species_info.php?id=70  Bet you have never heard of these mammals. I know I didn’t until yesterday. But is the enchidna or potoroo any less worthy of protection?

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t support the efforts to protect the panda and the orangutan but we also need to remember the endangered species that fall under the radar because they aren’t as cute or photogenic. Endangered species aren’t limited to mammals either.  EDGE happens to advocate for mammals, but there are endangered birds, reptiles, amphibians, fish, plants and invertebrates throughout the world.

This short-sightedness can also blind us to other needs throughout the world.  How many of us were aware of the Taliban’s crusade to prevent the education of girls until the assassination attempt on Malala Yousafzai or the cultural bias against women in India until the rape and death of Jyoti Singh Pandey?  Did any of us question the risk of deep water drilling until the BP Oil Spill in the Gulf of Mexico? Do we get a pass because it isn’t front page news? As citizens of this planet, it is our responsibility to be informed. The first step in taking any action is to learn what is happening in our back yards and around the world. Ask who needs help and what you can do. I guess all those hours reading encyclopedias weren’t a waste of time after all.

Me and the Moose or the story about how I learned to love nature

Female Moose - Photo Credit - Wikipedia

Between my freshman and sophomore years in college, I took a summer job with the National Park Concessions who ran the hotel and restaurant on Isle Royale. It was a summer of firsts for me: my first time away from home and my first long-term experience in nature. Being 18 at the time, I was too immature to truly appreciate the opportunity that this summer job offered. I had sought out the job but wasn’t prepared for the isolation that living on an island brings. Having experienced the party life and friendships that college life delivers, I found the time on the island boring and the guests annoying.

But the three months there wasn’t a total loss. With my new co-workers, I did some hiking and canoeing around the eastern end of the island.  But my most vivid memories were my encounters with the island’s largest animal, the moose.

My first encounter came on July 1^st, Canada Day. A friend and I decided to go to Lookout Louise, a spot that required a canoe trip down Tobin Harbor and a hike up to the lookout. From that vantage point, we could watch the fireworks in Thunder Bay.  When the celebration ended, we began our hike back down the hillside. The trail twisted back and forth and because it was dark, we chose our steps gingerly. Partially down the trail, we could hear rustling and we pointed our flashlights upwards. Looking down at us was a moose that was following us down the trail. We picked up our pace and soon we were back in our canoe, paddling back to home.

The second encounter came at the end of my stay on the island. My concession co-workers and I were invited to an end-of-the season party hosted by the island’s park service staff. I decided to leave the party early to return to my room. The distance from the NPS house to my building was less than a five minute walk so I set off alone. As I walked along the sidewalk, I looked up and in front of me was an adult moose no more than 10 feet from me. For a brief moment, we stared at each other. I stood there stunned, uncertain what to do next. Fortunately, the moose had more composure than I did, turned around and walked into the woods.

It was many years before I returned to Isle Royale. I had agreed to make the trip largely to relive my memories about the island stay, and to accompany my husband who had developed an interest in seeing the park. We stayed at the Rock Harbor Lodge and took day trips. The following year, we purchased backpacking equipment and returned to hike the eastern trails. We saw a female moose and her calf at Moskey Basin keeping our distance but close enough to watch.

That backpacking trip changed everything for me. I discovered that I loved sleeping in a tent, walking the trails carrying my possessions on my back. At that slower pace, I discovered wildflowers and lichen edging the trails, ate wild blueberries and appreciated the silence that comes from a place devoid of cars. Hikers are a friendly group of people.  We often shared campsites with total strangers where we exchanged stories of our adventures on the trail.

In many ways, I have to thank those two moose who at the time scared the living daylights out of me. My experiences with them taught me to appreciate and respect the wilderness. I learned to be observant, both visually and audibly. And I found an inner strength that comes when you challenge yourself and succeed. 

What defines your life?

BC - My Big, Beautiful, Boy Cat otherwise known as Butch Cassidy

I’m struggling to put my thoughts in order this morning. My mind is unfocused, jumping from one idea to another. I would like to think that these moments are opportunities to birth a new idea, but more often than not, it is simply a cluttered mind crying for relief.  My body in concert with my mind, demands to move so I find myself wandering aimlessly around the house.

Being an introvert, I thrive best when the environment around me is calm. Manmade noises jar my senses to the point that even the buzz of florescent lights irritates me. After two weeks of home time, I walked joyfully into my client’s office Wednesday morning. I dove into my work: paying bills, handling payroll questions, meeting with staff to discuss projects. In my typical efficient manner, I had completed my tasks handily. But by day’s end, my head and ears were throbbing; I couldn’t get out the office fast enough. After dinner, I took a couple of aspirin and went to bed.

Today, I am in my home office, doing research and writing. Here the pace is slower.  I decide when to start my day and what projects I choose to work on. I am not as efficient or knowledgeable about this work, but I am certainly more passionate about it. It requires me to process information more deliberately, a task difficult to do when your mind is racing.

Giving in to my inner turmoil, I decided to sit by the window. With binoculars in hand, I study the squirrels hovering around the ground feeder. I watched as the dominant squirrels chase away the intruders who retaliate by sneaking around the feeder to enter from another direction.  As the day progresses, more squirrels wander down the hillside, leaping across the tree branches to avoid the deep powdery snow. There is plenty of food in the feeder, enough so that everyone can have their fill.

Sitting on the rocker with elbows resting on the window ledge, my body has created a v-shape shelter. Butch soon spots it and leaps onto my lap. Cat and human merge into one, keeping each other warm. It didn’t take long for my body to relax, my mind now focused on the activity outside.

Doing the same work for so many years brings a depth of knowledge that cannot be gained through pure book learning. I have become an expert at “doing my job”, but in the process frequently lose that sense of wonder that comes from sitting and observing in silence. Unlike most people, I have the luxury to combine my career with work that ignites my passions. But the onus is on me to not allow the pursuit of money to interfere with that which fills me with so much abundance.  A life without wonder and passion is empty and not worthy of this gift of life that is given to me.

Isn't He Beautiful?

Occasionally an animal passes by my window that catches me by surprise. That was the case of an adult skunk who decided to vacation under my storage building several summers ago. I wasn’t totally surprised by his appearance for there are many mornings where the not-so-sweet aroma of skunk waifs across the neighborhood. And one incident many years ago had my black and white cat, Tristan foolishly think that the skunk on the patio was a relative and tried to be friends. The skunk vehemently objected and promptly sprayed the back of the house and my poor old cat. Quick thinking rid Tristan of the pungent smell, but the house shingles retained the faint stink of skunk musk for the rest of the summer.

Many years had passed when the little fellow in the above photograph decided to visit. Skunks typically come out at dusk and after dark, so the sighting of him during the day was unusual. Aware that skunks are categorized as rabies-vector animals and to avoid a repeat of Tristan’s episode, I sent the cats into the house and closed the screen door.

Sitting quietly with camera in hand, I watched the skunk waddle across the patio. He appeared oblivious to my presence; focused on the cats’ dish of water I had left outside. The skunk took his drink and quietly returned to his summer lodging under the storage building. Throughout the rest of the summer, I periodically saw him come and go, quietly and without incident. Finally I saw him no more.

Despite its smelly reputation, skunks are mild-mannered creatures. Skunks are omnivorous in eating habits, consuming a wide array of foods from fruit and nuts to insects, eggs and meat. This varied diet allows the skunk to inhabit a diverse area; as long as there is a water source, the skunk can make his home in any agricultural, woodlot or neighborhood environment. Skunks often will commandeer underground dens built by woodchucks, fox and badgers. Leading a solitary existence, male skunks avoid other skunks except during mating season; female skunks, however, are amiable to sharing winter shelters with other female skunks, woodchucks and raccoon.

I was curious about the scent glands and read that even baby skunks as young as eight days old are capable of emitting the musky smell.  By four weeks old the baby skunk has learned the adult defensive position of raising his tail and spraying. Adult skunks can accurately spray its adversaries to a distance of ten feet but will do so after giving you ample opportunity to escape. Should you encounter a skunk who is stomping his feet, and making a quick short charge at you, get out of the way and fast.

As for my summer guest, there was no reason to run and hide. He was well-behaved, keeping to himself and not a bother to me, my cats or the other wildlife that frequented the yard. I would welcome him back anytime.