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Crane Viewing

12/31/2013

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HiwasseeTrip

December 21, 2013

                I joined the Tennessee Wild organization for some Sandhill Crane viewing at the Hiwassee Wildlife Refuge this morning. With rain most of the way up Highway 27, I was not confident in having much opportunity for observation at the refuge.

When I arrived at the viewing platform and greeted the rest of the group, the crowd of people was smaller than expected. The flock of cranes also seemed smaller than in past years. There were a few thousand, but not the tens of thousands I expected.

Fog shrouded the landscape and enfolded us. It cut visibility of distant parts of the refuge. Close up, we saw cranes on both the near and far side of a small bay. As always seems to be the case with fog, the sounds enveloped us as well. The rattling call of cranes, which I have elsewhere compared to doves on steroids, greeted our ears as flock upon flock flew across our field of vision. Many circled and landed as we watched.  An immature Bald Eagle flew over as well.

We saw one endangered Whooping Crane, cloud white against the gray of the Sandhill Cranes, and representing a species back from the edge of an abyss called extinction. There were once fewer than 100 Whooping Cranes left in the world and they now number nearly 600. This is still a small enough population to be vulnerable.

I thought of how I once saw an even rarer species in the days when I lived on Cape Cod. I boarded a whale watch boat in hopes of viewing the antics of Humpback Whales. That hope was not realized, but I was lucky to see an even rarer sight, three Northern Right Whales. A pair of adults swam side by side, as a calf acrobatically rose out of the water and sank back down. The calf energetically waved its tail flukes and flippers.

Human prejudice would label this a family group, but whales are not human, despite their phenomenal intellect. The trio certainly included a mother and calf, but the third was not likely the calf’s father. As the ship’s naturalist explained to us, a mother Right Whale always has another adult accompanying her and the calf. This third whale is known as the escort, and may be either gender. No one is exactly sure of the escort’s purpose, but they are always there.

With only three hundred Northern Right Whales remaining, the three I saw comprised one percent of the world wide population. They became rare because they were easily followed by whaling ships and floated when dead. This made them easily retrieved. Their name comes from the days of Whaling. They were “the right whale to kill.”

Overhunting may have contributed to the demise of the Whooping Crane as well. Despite their rarity and protected status, Whooping Cranes were shot in Georgia and Texas last year.

The Sandhill Cranes we witnessed this day were once considered a rarity as well. Storyteller Jim Pfitzer recited portions of the essay “Marshland Elegy” from Aldo Leopold’s book, A Sand County Almanac for our group. This essay comprises a major portion of his one man show, Aldo Leopold: A Standard of Change.

Sandhill Cranes were rare enough in Leopold’s day that he was certain they would soon be extinct. The essay was his farewell to the cranes. Only careful management brought them back to the large and growing population that graces our wetlands and skies today. I hope we can see such success with the Whooping Crane and the Northern Right Whale.

I also noticed a phoebe perched on a wire at the viewing platform. Though birds in the flycatcher group are difficult to distinguish one from another, Phoebes have a characteristic tail wagging that makes them easier to identify. In his delightful book, The Forest Unseen, David Haskell of the University of the South describes the Phoebe’s hoarse call as a “whiskey and cigarette voice.”

When I returned to Chattanooga via route 27, it was nearly 1:00. I had planned more bird watching for the day, but needed a break. I took route 153 south to Hixson and stopped at Books-A-Million to pick up the Writers Almanac: 2014 and a copy of the New York Times, a paper I like to read once or twice a year. My lunch had been two apples, so I grabbed a cup of Joe Mugs coffee and an oatmeal/raison cookie as I recorded the morning’s events in my journal.

I left Hixson by crossing the Chickamauga Dam, and turned left onto Amnicola Highway. At the Tennessee River below the dam, the fog was heavier than at the refuge in Meigs County. Any birds present were obscured by the fog.

I moved on to a side road where nests of Great Blue Herons adorn a large tree beside the banks of a stream. Two weeks ago, none of the gangly birds perched in the tree, but today they were actively investigating the nests. Two launched off and circled behind me. They returned to the tree and spooked two others as they landed. I have, in past years, seen a heron come in to relieve another who sat on the nest. Incubation calls for continuous warmth from an adult bird’s body, so they must take turns in order to hunt and feed themselves. I have also watched an adult bird gently turn an egg, so that it was warm on all sides. These activities will take place later in the year.

At Amnicola Marsh, the fog obscured the center of the pond. A few Mallards swam in the shallows near the shore. They lifted off to land just beyond the vegetation and then glide out of sight in the mist. I didn’t wee the Canada Geese until I walked around to the other side of the pond. Coots and more Mallards also came into view.

The Snow Goose I saw on recent visits was not visible. It either hid from me in the fog or had moved on to other grazing. None of the Northern Shovelers, Green-winged Teal, or Hooded Mergansers greeted my view either.

As I prepared to return home, I noticed a large winter flock of American Robins. They have abandoned their solitary lives of summer nests in favor of gregarious winter behavior. The seasonal changes in their behavior are recounted in A Field Guide to Bird Behavior: Volume I by Donald and Lilian Stokes.

With Fog obscuring more of the landscape, I passed on additional stops and returned home to make a hot dinner and another cup of coffee. Although the visibility had been disappointing, I was happy with the opportunity for time in the field observing the birds. 

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Environmental Literacy

12/22/2013

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Naturalist Readings

A number of years ago, some organization or other circulated a questionnaire asking what a person in the environmental field should read.  They were attempting to establish a basic literacy framework, and the answers they got were pretty basic. Most respondents listed history, literature, philosophy, and sacred texts such as The Bible. Some listed The Federalist Papers – to which I would add The Antifederalist Papers to do justice to two great and competing trends in American Government.

Aside from that provision, I find this answer appropriate on one level, yet bemusing. How sad that we cannot count on modern day professionals to have basic literacy. At the same time, none of the listed texts, aside from a few obscure passages in The Bible, deal with conservation at all. Therefore, I have reimagined the process. After one has a basic literacy in literature, history, science, the humanities, etc. what works make a person environmentally literate.  Here are my top ten, and they are approximately in order of importance. Feel free to comment, suggest your own list, etc.

Walden (or Life in the Woods) – Henry David Thoreau

The American Seasons (four volume series) - Edwin Way Teale (Pulitzer Prize)

A Sand County Almanac - Aldo Leopold

The Future of Life – Edward O. Wilson

Desert Solitaire – Edward Abby

The Snow Leopard – Peter Matthiessen

The End of Nature – Bill McKibben

Refuge, An Unnatural History - Terry Tempest Williams

Silent Spring – Rachel Carson

The Forest Unseen – David George Haskell (Nominated for Pulitzer Prize)



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The Legacy of Luna

12/14/2013

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The Trees for the Forest

November 2013

Yesterday, a bright morning sun pierced the woods near my home. It illuminated my drive down Lookout Mountain with views of yellow Hickories and Sweetgum as well as red Maples and Dogwood.  Trees were much on my mind as I had just finished Julia Butterfly Hill’s remarkable book about her two years lived on a platform nestled in the heart of a giant Redwood tree. Her book is titled The Legacy of Luna: The Story of a Tree, a Woman, and the Struggle to Save the Redwoods.

When I reached the valley below, a large oak appeared backlit, sunbeams turning its brown leaves a translucent red. I thought of this woman who named herself Butterfly and of the tree, already named Luna when she arrived. She revealed her sudden illuminations on page after page, and I realized that very little in my personal experience prepared me for her remarkable story. Despite the alien nature of her adventure, analogies appeared, stories not beckoned. My stories are, for me, the best way to understand the stories of others.

            My own experience with giant trees is limited to a few eastern old growth forests, most recently the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness named for the author of the beloved, though often satirized poem, “Trees.” Though small by comparison to the ancient Redwoods of Northern California, these trees tower above hikers on the trail. Some would say that the feeling of Creation and Creator is tangible in these forests. These old growth trees certainly set the mood  of being in a special place.

            I have been told that it is the kiss of death to be labelled a Nature Poet, and this was certainly the case for the bard who authored the poem “Trees.” Poetry aficionados show scant regard for Kilmer and his works. The forest got its name at the request of a group of veterans and commemorates his service and death in World War II, more than his poetry. In a twist of irony, this commemorated man is ignored by fellow poets, a group who find themselves generally ignored by the larger society. He is commemorated by a grove of Tulip Trees, not logged because the company railroad could not reach them. In unprotected zones, these trees are highly valued as timber. Tulip Trees (also known as Tulip Poplar, even though they are a kind of Magnolia) grow fast, straight, and large. They are a favorite of lumbermen, which was likely a factor in helping them to become the State Tree of Tennessee.

              This morning, the moon, for which Luna was named, has crossed the sky and shines round and full, just above the trees which surround my porch. A faint pink line, like that on the side of a Brook Trout, edges the Eastern horizon, squeezed between the dark line of trees below and iron gray clouds above.

            This woman named Butterfly, was similarly squeezed between her love for the forest, her sympathy for the residents of Stafford, victimized by a mud slide after a clear cut on land adjacent to the grove where Luna stood, and a larger society which was at times hostile, supportive, and indifferent to her struggle to save the trees.

            While buffeted by winds, hail, and cold, she suffered and recovered from frostbite. She clung to the platform and later the tree itself, fearing the wind would knock her loose and send her plummeting to the ground. She faced an oncoming lightning storm and prayed to the Creator and Creation for strength and survival.  She referred to the tree as a Goddess and says that the tree itself taught her how to survive the first winter.

            Meanwhile, Pacific Lumber, owner of the land on which Luna stood, tried to get her to come down. The state government tried to get her to come down. Some activists, who saw her as an intruder and an outsider, tried to get her to come down. Company guards tried to starve her out of the tree by blockading her supply chain. News media saw her as a commodity to exploit.

            Through all this, she stayed in the tree and learned the lessons of the forest. She grew spiritually yet relied on others. She was supported by activists through the environmental movement, by celebrities such as Joan Baez, and by school children who sent stamps. Native American activist Leonard Peltier, supported her from his prison cell. Other generous people sent hats, winter clothing, and food. She had a ground support crew that never gave up on her. She emerged transformed and dedicated to a struggle that continues today. 

The Legacy of Luna

The Story of a Tree, a Woman, and the Struggle to Save the Redwoods

Julia Butterfly Hill

Harper Collins Inc., Publishers, New York



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December Means Christmas Bird Counts

12/8/2013

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This year, birdwatchers across the nation and right here in Chattanooga will participate as citizen scientists in a nature watching and research tradition which began 114 years ago. .Nationally, the effort is coordinated by the National Audubon Society. Local bird watchers have three counts in which they may participate, and the activity is open to all. Learn more about Christmas Bird Counts at the December meeting of the Tennessee Ornithological Society, Chattanooga Chapter. Details about the meeting and the three local counts, appear in the December issue of the Chattanooga Chat, local chapter newsletter and are reprinted below. View the full text of the newsletter at http://www.chattanoogatos.,org

December Meeting

Ascension Lutheran Church

720 S Germantown Rd

Thursday,  December 12, 2013
5:30 p.m.  Executive Board Meeting 7:00 p.m.  Monthly Meeting

Program:  Kevin Calhoon of the Tennessee Aquarium will present the December 12 program on "Stats And Christmas Counts". Kevin has been the count compiler for Hamilton County for many years. It should be interesting to hear what trends have emerged. 

After the meeting Starr Klein, Linda Kelley & Katherine Broyles will provide refreshments.

 

DECEMBER 2013 FIELD TRIPS

 

THURS., DEC. 5:   STANDIFER GAP MARSH AND POSSIBLY OTHER LOCAL SITES – Leader:  Hugh Barger (605-3131 or hbvol50@centurytel.net) – Meet at the Marsh at 8:30 AM.  There is no telling what may be found with all the recent weather changes.

SAT., DEC. 14:  61ST CHATTANOOGA CHRISTMAS COUNT – Contact Kevin Calhoon (423-785-4070 or kac@tennis.org) if you are interested in participating.

SAT., DEC. 21:  29TH ANNUAL NICKAJACK CHRISTMAS COUNT – Contact David Spicer (423-894-5310 OR birdsnbflys@gmail.com) if you are interested in participating.

SAT., JAN. 4:  47TH ANNUAL HIWASSEE CHRISTMAS COUNT – Contact Kevin Calhoon (423-785-4070 OR kac@tennis.org) if you are interested in participating.

Kevin Calhoon will be discussing the counts and getting teams together at our TOS meeting on Dec. 12 



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Urban Wild

12/4/2013

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I have collected my two published articles about the Brainerd Levee along with some journal entries into a zine that I intend to release before the end of this year,. Here are the introductory paragraphs. 


Introduction

 
The Brainerd Levee is certainly not a wilderness area. It is, in fact, in the midst of a busy urban neighborhood. On a given day, the casual walker encounters bird watchers, joggers, cyclists, dog walkers, and a whole variety of other people using the space. My adventures there all began at the Moore Road entrance. This portion of the Levee has a private school and developed neighborhood on one side, a commercial trucking depot on another, an airport on the third, and more pond and wetlands on the fourth. It is a remnant place, with a few wild creatures. Sometimes rarities appear there. It has, nevertheless, delighted me when the opportunity to spend a morning there has come my way, It is, in some sense, urban wildlife habitat.

When I decided to write the first of the two previously published articles, it was on a whim. I had invited two friends to go bird watching with me and we recorded the list of birds we sighted there. A long journal entry for that March 1 day, many years ago, became “A Walk on the Levee.” I submitted the essay as a feature article to Hellbender Press of Knoxville and it was published through a fortunate accident. A Real Estate developer planned a building near the levee,  and the editors published my article about the birds and the habitat next to an editorial condemning the planned development. I actually had no political intent when I submitted the essay. I then joined the group resisting this development and “The Levee Revisited” resulted from my desire to assist them.


The third and final portion is a later addition. I like it, because it is just me enjoying the natural world. No politics, just relaxing days on the levee. One fall season I spent several days out at the levee and recorded my observations. The final essay, including the description of the Kingfisher, is perhaps my favorite part of the whole story. I hope you enjoy reading these essays as much as I enjoyed gathering the experiences that generated my words.

 


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A Surreal Pantoum

12/3/2013

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Blue

Accelerate toward Speed of Light.
Giggle as incoming waves shift blue.
Avoid quantum singularities where
Even electromagnetic rays bend.

Giggle as incoming waves shift blue.
Vision Brackets man in blue coat.
Even Electromagnetic rays bend.
He flies a blue kite, drops blue crumbs.

Vision Brackets man in blue coat.
Growing heat invigorates storms.
He flies a blue kite, drops blue crumbs.
On seas where blueish men fish.

Growing heat invigorates storms.
You approach a blue planet
On seas where blueish men fish.
For blue salmon served with squid.

Avoid quantum singularities where
You approach a blue planet
For blue salmon served with squid.
Accelerate toward speed of light.

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