Owls on a Night Hike

Have you ever hiked in the woods without a flashlight? Not through your back yard to gather forgotten items or to the curb to put out the recycling or even across the farmyard to tend animals, but deep into the unknown woods, just too see what it out there at night? Before I started working at the Ozark Natural Science Center, the only time I wandered through the woods at night without a light was during bonfire parties, in which we were a pack of loud drunken fool, uninterested in the night's sounds. At the science center, I take children on a night hike.

I begin the hike with my flashlight on and lead the children into the woods. An adult is also at the back of the line shinning flashlight. Once the center is completely out of sight, I stop and turn off the lights. We talk in the dark about the night. Often a few children are afraid and I ask them what they are afraid of. They always say the same things and a debunk their fears one at a time.

"Wolves," they said.
"We killed off all the wild red wolves. They exist only in zoos or parks, so don't worry."
"Mountain Lions."
"Same fate as the wolves."

"Coyotes."

"Cowardice creatures. As far as I know, no one has ever been attacked by a coyote."

"Bears."

Black Bears are about as dangerous as coyotes."

"Blood sucking bats."

"None of those around here, perhaps a few blood sucking mosquitoes though. And that is just about the only thing I fear at night. Mosquito bites and diseases." (I also fear copperheads, but only in the summer months.)

By the time I have finished quelling their fears, their eyes have begun to adjust. I have a bag of tricks over my shoulder and a do a few nifty nighttime tricks to get their mind somewhere else.

Then, if the moon is not completely dark, we walk without a flashlight. I ask of complete silence and (amazingly) I often get it. Though most of the time we walk without seeing or hearing anything but katydids, we sometimes sneak up on a noisy armadillo or hear a barred owl calling in the distance.



Barred Owl



Last week, we took an extra long night hike. We were in to dark woods for almost an hour. The moon was half full and the few clouds reflected the light to make it seen even brighter. I took the group to an abandoned house on the property. It is a hike I do often during the day, but I have never been at night. It looked spooky in the darkness. A few children did not want to creep up to the empty windows panes and look inside, but most braved the journey.

On our way back towards the center we paused near a cedar thicket and heard an Eastern Screech Owl. The children all gasped in horror at once. I prefer the name Ghost Owls for this little creature, because I have never heard it screech. It's typical call has a hoot and then an eerie trill, almost like a ghost howl from a Halloween cartoon. I explained in a whisper that they were hearing is one of the smallest owls. I showed them with my hands how tiny it is, only about 8 inches tall. They relaxed. After explaining that this tiny raptor was less dangerous than a hawk, we walked slowly into the darkness of the cedar thicket. Three times we snuck up on the owl and I quickly turned on my light to reveal the bird before it few down the trail on quite wings. My brave group of 10 years olds were excited and thrilled to have had such an experience. 

As I drove home the next day, around dusk, I spotted a barred owl swoop across my path. I stopped my car and we watched each other. It sat in a colorful dogwood tree, and watched me watching it. I snapped a picture and the flash frightened it away. 

Owls have a spooky reputation. Perhaps it is their eerie nightly sounds. Or their huge knowing eyes. Or the way they turn their head to look behind themselves. Myths and legends have associated owls with either death or wisdom for generations. I am in awe of their grace and song. This year, for Halloween, I am invoke the spirit of the owl!



This Year's Jack-O-Lantern



Stress Relief

Like most moms, with a million things to do and worry about, I suffer from stress. I know that stress is not good for my baby or me, so I have been trying to find ways to lower my stress levels. I took an herbal tincture during the day and drank a glass of wine at dinner until I got pregnant. Now I am struggling with more subtle stress reductions techniques. Of course, yoga and Tai Chi helps, but it is hard to find time and floorspace for that with a three year old. In fact, too many yoga positions say to him, "human jungle gym!"

The only thing that works every time is nature! I had a mental break down on Saturday. I just snapped. I couldn't handle life anymore. So I drove out to Owls' Knob, 50 miles from a streetlight, siren, or 24/7 store. Way out there I don't have a cell phone or Internet connection, the radio waves don't penetrate my brain and no one is calling me up to tell me their problems. I slept two nights listening to crickets and even a few hardy frogs. I took long walks during the day, through the tunnels of red, gold, and brown leaves. I started reading an old first addition copy of Gone with the Wind (old books are more relaxing to me somehow, written and printed in a slower paced world). For hours I just sat with my son, gazing dreamily at the colorful leaves and listening to whatever nonsense he had to say.

What is it about staring into nature that makes me feel so calm? It doesn't logically make sense. I still have to make food, wash dishes, and deal with my son's mood swings. In town I have a yard, my street is quite, and I have more modern convinces. What makes the dramatic difference? Research shows that sunlight boosts the levels of serotonin in the brain and fresh air (particularly air that is near a body of water) contains negative ions which are also necessary to balance the brain's chemicals. It is not just the quiet or beauty that the wilderness provides, there is something chemically going on in my brain that changes my mood when I am outdoors.

But that still doesn't explain why the back yard is not just as good at the deep Ozark wilderness. Why is the park or the bike trail not just as relaxing as a walk through the crunching leaves of the old oak and hickory trees? Perhaps science will not be able to answer that question. Maybe it will remain a mystery. However, I can feel it and I know it to be true. The remote Ozark wilderness is good for my soul and necessary for my sanity!  

Hello Trees!



"Hello tiny flower!"



Last week, Zane and I went many places to admire the colors of autumn's leaves. First we went to the park. There the falling leaves were mostly from Osage Orange trees. My son was more impressed by the huge Osage Oranges fruits than the yellow leaves. He is an observant young boy, and very curious. I stopped often because he was busy examining a stick, tree, bug, or flower. He also took time to say hello to many of these things.


The following day Grand-ma, her friend Zan, Zane, and I went to Yellow Rock at Devils Den state park. The round trip hike is about 3 miles long and it is categorized as moderately difficult trail on the Devils Den website. But Zane is a trooper, so we set off on the hike. At first the rough terrain kept him completely occupied and moving briskly. Every rock was an opportunity to climb a mountain and jump off a cliff. Often he stopped to greet a tree. I am not sure why he has decided he must greet the trees or what makes one tree so inviting while he passes so many others by. I have learned that it is pointless to argue, not worth the fuss. So we waited and watched him as he said hello and good bye to many a tree.

Half way through our journey we rested on a large rock and ate snacks. Then we descended the hill and rounded the mountain towards Yellow Rock. Upon the huge rock, in front of the amazing view, my three year old was not so impressed. A leaf or a tree is tangible, but a view is just vast. He does not recognize the size and scope of an entire valley and the mountains beyond yet. So we only stayed on the rock a short while, before walking back.
On the hike back, Grand-ma had to carry the boy often. As she became tired, she devise a game that encouraged him to walk. Grand-ma and Zane would hurry ahead and hide behind the biggest tree they could find. As we approached, they would jump out and scare us. It delighted the boy and kept him moving. Even after the long hike, the three year old was full of joy and energy. So we went down to the river at the Devil's Den picnic area to let Zane do what he loves most: throwing rocks in the water!

The next day, Grand-ma drove Zane and I out to Owl's Knob for a much needed visit. All summer, during the intense heat and drought, finding the time and energy to go out to Newton County was hard. But the colors of fall lured us deep to the wilderness. We drove out the long way, along highway 16, where the hills were dotted with color and cyclones of yellow leaves circled the car. All day we walked around the mountain. All around the cabin a halo of yellow glowed. Sunbeams turn golden as they were filtered by the wide compound leaves of hickory trees. As I walked through the forest to the north the rock, yellows gave way to deep reds of tupulo trees and joyous oranges of maples. Along the edge of the pond brilliant reds from the sumacs are set off among deep maroons of water logged sweet gums. I took a stroll down the long driveway and collected leaves. My favorites were oaks and maples that had just been touched with hues of red, as if fairies had come a painted their tips on the night. 

When the day was done, we said good bye to Owl's Knob. Zane said good bye to the trees.

Perhaps there is something to learn from the boy who talks to trees. I am not saying we should all go out and literally speak to trees, but maybe we would all feel better if we took the time to stop and silently greet the world around us, understanding and appericating it better in the end.  



"Hello, tree... Good bye, tree!"



Autumn...

After such a long hot summer, the cool winds of fall are refreshing. Color is creeping into the green forests as the days become shorter. Normally I would be inspired; I am very fond of fall, but I have been out of touch this year. I am currently 15 weeks pregnant and having a particularly difficult time so far. As summer has faded, so has my energy. I have also been incredibly sick. Therefore, I have not been spending enough time outside. My camera has been abandoned and my thoughts left with summer's energy. In the coming weeks I hope to find more energy to write about this fantastic season.

Fat Turtle

I found a turtle between the compost pile and the garden. It was obese! I never knew that a turtle could become overweight. But the fat rolls that were unable to fit inside of this turtle's shell were disturbing. What's more is that I feel responsible! Three days in a row I looked for him when I took the compost out and I found him every time.
My compost pile is not well kept or protected. It is a heap of food that is covered with leaves and left for nature to do as it pleases. I never thought much of it before now. I figured that some wildlife might enjoy it, but I didn't see a problem with that. Most of my compost is fairly healthy. However, looking at this fat turtle I realize that he is addicted to what I throw out and because it is so easy to eat so much, he has become unhealthy. I don't think he can get all of his fat rolls into his shell; therefore, he is easy picking for a predator. I am ruining this turtle's life!
It makes me wonder how many other obese animals are hiding in the woods between our houses, waiting for us to take out the garbage or throw those scraps in the yard. How many dumpsters are all you can eat bars, tempting fat raccoons, foxes, rabbits, and yes, even turtles!
I will properly fortify my compost pile this weekend!    

Bark Scorpion Girl

Striped Bark Scorpion

At the Ozark Natural Science Center, before I take students on our first hike together, I always ask the students to each tell me what they want to learn more about. Most of them either name the first animal that comes to mind (bears, snakes, or deer) or they flip through their field guide and read a heading to me, even if they don't know what it means and are not interested in it. One cool fall day last year I got a surprising answer, "I want to learn more about the Striped Bark Scorpions," said a little girl with black hair and wide wandering eyes.
"Bark Scorpions?" I mused. "I'm not even sure we have them around here..."
"Oh yes, they are here. They live under rocks during the day and then climb trees at night in search for food. They hunt insects and stuff. They are only, oh, about this big..." she showed me a little over an inch with her fingers. "They blend into the bark, especially because it is night, so when you put your hand on a tree they sting you. But they won't kill you, its like a bee sting."
"Wow, I think you might need to teach me about them! Obviously you know quite a bit more about them than I do."
"I like to study them." Her gaze lowered and she seemed slightly embarrassed. Other students were snickering and rolling their eyes at her. At her age, being smart is NOT cool.
Throughout the rest of our time together, the girl continued to teach me things and I taught her what she didn't already know. She was full of questions and answers both. The bark scorpion did not come back up since I felt stupid not knowing anything about them.
This past week, while walking with fellow Ozark Natural Science Center teachers, during staff trailing, we flipped over a rock in the glade and found a stripped bark scorpion. Immediately I thought of the bark scorpion girl. As I asked teacher naturalist more about this species, I realized the girl had been right about everything she had told me, from its size to its habits.
"I knew a guy who picked them up!" someone said.
"I dare you to pick it up, Caleb," said Adam.
Caleb smiled.
"I will rub nose burn on my nose if you pick up the scorpion." Adam dared. (Nose burn is a plain little plant or weed that grows in Ozark glades. People who touch it get a stingy or burning sensation that rarely last more than 20 minutes. However, Adam found it not to be painful when he lost this bet and rubbed it on his nose.)
Carefully, Caleb crept up behind the scorpion and then quickly plucked it off the ground. The scorpion curled its legs in and froze in the giant's grip. While taking a picture of the only Ozark scorpion I have ever seen, I wished the bark scorpion girl was there to see it too.

Caleb Wardlaw Holding a bark scorpion

Shallow Water

 

Green Heron

Creeks and rivers are still very shallow. I went to one of my favorite swimming spots and found that the pools of water were not only shallow, but the water quality was poor. Perhaps this little branch of the white river has always been slightly polluted. It is beside a rural bridge where thoughtless people can so easily drop trash off the side of their truck and into the shadows below. Normally their trash is carried down stream. But this year's stagnant pools revealed every coke can and chip bag. Also, there was an oily or white shimmer of scum on the water's surface.

Blue Heron

Despite these signs of carelessness,  there was no lack of life in these waters! Turtles were thriving, basking on a log sicking up out of the water and floating near the surface ready to plunge into the depths at any moment. Fish filled the water so thickly I was afraid if I stepped into the pool they would come lapping onto shore.
Of course, herons were attracted to these fish filled pools. As we approached the river a small green heron perched and watched us suspiciously before flying into a nearby sycamore tree. Further downstream, a blue heron flew to the far bank and watched us from there. As I crept closer, the huge bird kept its eyes on my every move, but was reluctant to fly away from such a beautiful buffet of fish. After creeping very close, the heron opened its huge arching wings and lifted itself into the air. As it crested the trees it stopped flapping and began to soar.


Watermelon Sprout

Before we also decided to soar away, I spotted a watermelon sprout growing up from between the river rocks. There its seed had fallen after been spat from unknowing lips. The sprout reminded me that not everything humans carelessly discard is garbage, and even amongst the garbage, life grows onward!

Never met a stranger

Zane loves nature. He wants to be outside whenever possible, even in the heat or cold. If he sees a bug, he puts his palm out and asks, "hand?" Which means, "Will you put it in my hand?" He doesn't squeeze or poke at anything I place there. With a beaming smile, he just watches the creature crawl. When it is time to let the critter go, he waves and says, "Bye-bye!" Then he askes me, "Zane kiss? Zane hug?" If I tell him, "No," we don't kiss and hug worms, or frogs, or whatever, he will pout with his big sad bottom lip sticking way out. So I always cave, telling him he can, "Blow a hug and kiss." So he does. He blows kisses and hugs towards every snail, beetle, toad, and roly-poly we find. Of course, I won't let him put just anything in his hand. I have been pointing out spiders and wasps, explaining that these creatures might bite or sting him. I don't want him to be afraid necessarily, just cautious and aware.
When we are in the country we take lots of walks down the dirt road. It delights Zane that there are no cars in the road and it is safe to walk on. He is very observant, stopping to examine every ant. He is also learning which insects are ticks. When he finds a tick he knows to bring to me. He love for living things does not stop at sails or spiders, he has to hug and kiss trees or rocks too. It is almost like he just wants to show his love for life and the world. Maybe he is just trying to give thanks for being alive?
I am proud that he loves every thing so much. Love is much better than hate. But when we are in town, his kindness can be awkward. In the city, it makes people uncomfortable. Because he will hug and kiss nice old cars that he likes, or intersting holes in the sidewalk. Pretty much anything that he likes or finds interesting gets a hug and kiss. I have had to scold him for blow kisses to the lady in the check out line or hugging the random dogs in the park. And it just makes us both look crazy when he kisses the man hole cover in the sidewalk or hugs an street sign. He is passionate. I recognize the strength as well as the weakness in such passion.
Lately, he has become more reserved. His baby days of hugging and kissing everything he likes or enjoys is fading. Now I feel less embarrassed, now that he can be embarrassed. But when we are alone in the backyard and no one is watching, we hug the trees and kiss the ladybugs without an ounce of shame!

Zane letting a millipede walk on his hand.

Sprouts of Hope

 

I am trying to grow a fall garden. This week has brought cooler temeratures, a few summer thunderstorms, and a bit of hope. I know I am not the only species that is rejoicing in a change in weather. This summer has been the hottest and dryest on record, but lately the birds have begun singing again and the grass covered hillsides have changed from brown back to green. So I felt inspired to stick a few seeds in the ground. Only the bush beans seem to be thriving so far. Perhaps the spinach and lettuce knows that summer is not over yet. It may be too soon to start speaking of fall. But at least I can see a bit of greenery at the end of the tunnel!

 



Beside a dry creek

Blue Bird Fledging (taken in June)

An Amazing South American Amphibian

       In the gloomy forests of South America lives a tiny frog called Darwin's Frog (Rhinoderma darwinii), who has one of the strangest reproductive cycles. The female frog lays about 30 eggs in sheltered leaf litter, then she leaves. The male frog, however, stays and guards the eggs. When the tadpoles are just about ready to hatch their egg becomes transparent and their father can see them wiggling inside. The adult male carefully wraps his tongue around each individual egg, picks it up, and slips it into his vocal sac through a slit in his mouth. The eggs then hatch inside the male's vocal sacs. The young tadpoles live inside their father's vocal sac eating the egg yoke as well as a nutrient rich secretion (perhaps similar to milk) made by the male. The tadpoles go through metamorphosis and develop into tiny frogs, a miniature replicas of their parents. When they are mature the male frog sort of burps them up and his children come hopping out of his mouth, one by one!
Like so many amazing animals, this frog species is endangered.
What an amazing world we have! What an amazing world we are losing!