OUT!! #7: Bugs of the Sun

You can hear them now. They starting coming out about two weeks ago and their ever present whining in the treetops is more commonly noted than their haggard appearance. More persistent than the hungriest mosquito, but more subtle and expected, the cicadas have returned for another summer of heat and humidity. This is only the second week I've worked at camp and I've already found several of these alien bugs in the bushes around Drumlin Farm. With their dark bodies, window pane wings, and hooked legs, they look weird even by bug standards, but are key indicators of summer in Massachusetts for as long as I've been here. The edginess that one feels in the heat is smoothed by the pleasant, but constant drone of these hidden musicians.

Upon first coming to the United States, my parents thought that the houses had electrical problems due to the constant buzzing in the trees around them. However, they were quickly assured that they were nothing more than whirring insects in the trees above. Despite their initial skepticism, they quickly came to accept these buzzing creatures as just another part of the American summer. The true beauty of these creatures is not found in their looks, but instead within their whining music played in those hot summer months. As inviting as a breeze on a humid day, their simple melodies are too precious to live without.

The Japanese, observant to the ways of nature, associate cicadas with rejuvenation and renewal and their renewed presence each summer illustrates this revitalization felt by those upon hearing of the relaxing buzz of the cicadas in the treetops. The life cycle of cicadas compared to many insects is lengthy, but dependent on the presence of trees. Without trees, cicadas are woefully unprepared for life above the soil's surface. Starting out as eggs in slits carved into tree branches by the females, the nymphs hatch out and drop to the ground where they promptly bury themselves into the soil. They remain here for up to 17 years, but often for much shorter periods. After emerging, their alien shells appear on branches, bushes, and any structure they can hold onto. They molt from these shells into their adult forms in a similar fashion to dragonflies and mayflies when they emerge from their watery homes. After climbing into the trees, the males start their buzzing serenade to females, all the while sipping on the sap found the xylem of the trees they sit on. So much like Jimmy Buffet himself "nibbling on sponge cake" and relaxing in the summer sun, cicadas provide the vocal backdrop to the essence of summer in Massachusetts and around the country.

OUT!! #6: Lessons from a Muskrat

A few days ago I visited the gem of the Metrowest wildlife areas of interest. Don't get me wrong, I love our other wild spaces like Heard Conservation Land, Drumlin Farm, and Walden Pond, but this is one of the few places where I can walk through one of my favorite places to walk, relax, and watch the natural world be. After going through job searches and looking for work for the summer (even this late in the game I know!), I was feeling particularly stressed about where life was going and what I should be doing about it.
This stress was immediately noticeable while I was walking the the main trail between the two marshes. My pace was quick and agitated. I wasn't really looking, but hurrying! It was almost as if I expected nature to show me the way immediately and just accept my presence and dare to calm me down. But then I stopped and thought "What am I doing?! You might get attention thrashing around looking for calm, but that way you ruin the calm that everyone else has come to seek. I looked up and down and breathed deeply. I was approaching this place the wrong way, as a harried adult looking for jobs would with stress on the brain and in the heart.

After I calmed myself down, I looked around at the world that I have visited for wisdom, solace, and insight. I love marshes because they embrace that element so important for life that exists here so beautifully. Here water is king and the water-loving plants know it with the marsh being dominated by cattails (Typha spp.), pickerelweed (Pontederia spp.) , and the ever-loathed purple loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria). Despite the water being controlled by a single set of drains and locks, the water remains most of the year attracting the host of birds it's famous for. I witnessed three Great Blue Herons (Ardea herodias) squawk and chase each other around the pickerelweed, vying for the best spots. They are a peculiar bird with their long necks and pointed beaks. So tall and perfectly designed for spearing fish and other aquatic creatures and yet so rail thin. They eat some pretty big fish and it's a wonder that they don't pack on more pounds.

One thing that's noticeable when trekking through this wonderland are the amount of business and cargo and personal aircraft that buzz like mechanical mosquitoes over the landscape. The nearby airport that they report from is busy enough on this day that in the two hours I spent there I counted almost 20 planes that flew over in a northerly direction. Even with this intrusion, life goes on. The birds, who have probably lived under this barrage of aircraft-generated noise. The Marsh Wrens that make their summer territories here certainly weren't bothered as they song their rattling song in the cattails bordering the main walkway. Their plucky presence is such a delight to see and one wonders whether their tail that stands upright so resolutely ever bows. I giggled as I thought of a wren with a stuck-up tail trying to fly and tumbling while doing so.

As I walked further, other signs of summer were making themselves known. A northern water snake (Nerodia sipedon) sunning itself on a muskrat house. Families of Canada Geese (Branta canadensis) and Wood Ducks (Aix sponsa) roamed the area looking for grass and roosting in the late afternoon sunshine that beckoned from the threatening storm clouds in the distance. Though it threatened to rain a few times, the clouds eventually kept their distance and brought for radiant sunshine for the world below.

Perhaps the most significant moment that made me realize I make my problems bigger than me and therefore let them get to me was when I happened upon a muskrat (Ondatra zibethicus). Muskrats aren't particularly well known for promoting philosophical thought about everyday life, but the muskrat pictured above did so for me. I took the right trail towards the woods that ringed the upper marsh. Before I'd gotten further down the trail I saw movement. The movement came from a brown patch of fur resembling a tribble (Star Trek fans will remember this as the fluffy, asexually-reproducing creature that nearly overflowed the Starship Enterprise that one episode). But it had the small eyes and ears of a rodent, as well as the trademark scaly, laterally-flattened tail that characterize this unique species. As I loomed over it, I noticed that it didn't pay me any attention and kept on nibbling at the grass and cattails. I pished and whistled at it, and loomed over it even more. It didn't react. It didn't acknowledge me at all and continued eating. I stared, amazed that this little creature so often seen as a prey animal and less impressive than other creatures was ignoring one of the most successful species on the face of the planet. The critter made no attempts to escape and continued about its day.

Upon my walk back, I pondered the muskrat and its habits. I've been able to walk up to muskrats before with them having little reaction. Have they simply gotten used to people or are they less persecuted here than they would be in other states. What amazed me most was how the muskrat didn't seem to trifle with me as I had loomed over him so menacingly. If I had done the same to a squirrel or a cottontail, they would have fled immediately. It was then that I realized that I could apply this to my own problems. I had come to the marsh with looming problems about future employment and my future as a student of wildlife management. I left feeling lighter than air and much calmer for what I'd seen. I thought of the herons, and the waterfowl I'd seen, the swallows that had swooped over the marsh, the tenacity of the wrens on their territories. I marveled at the diversity of life I'd witnessed in the marsh and each of the creatures preforming their roles with apparent ease and grace. Finally I thought of the muskrat who in my enormous presence kept going, doing, being. Keeping at the grindstone and moving forward and eventually your current crop of troubles will be whittled away. Fearing the looming cloud will not make it go away, but actively clearing the air will destroy the cloud. I'll try to keep that in mind from now on as I go. Forget "busy as a beaver" and go for a muskrat!

OUT!! #5: Woodchucks of a Third Kind

Woodchucks. Whistle Pigs. Gophers. Groundhogs. Love 'em or hate 'em, they are one of the most recognizable rodents in North America. Just behind the beaver in charming wildness and just ahead of the squirrel in mischievousness, the woodchuck has garnered itself a mixed reputation, especially in our backyard. You see, in our yard we keep chickens. Two Buff Orpingtons that provide us with semiregular supply of eggs throughout the year providing they haven't laid them elsewhere in the yard or have, God forbid, gone broody!

But what, I hear you asking, do woodchucks and chickens have to do with one another? A mixture of shelter, food, and opportunity caused a woodchuck both this summer and the last to take up residence in our yard. The one this year has three young chucks with it and hopefully, unlike the one last year, won't start stealing my chickens food. The one last year dug under the shed and used it as a hidey hole when I ran at it trying to run it off and out of the yard. This tactic of course was doomed to failure since he would simply appear when we weren't looking and then vanish before we could properly realize that it had graced our presence once more. The summer ended and whether it left or went into hibernation was unknown to us. We did our best to try and bury its handiwork and plug the holes under the shed, but as we've learned this summer, burying the home of an animal that lives underground constitutes either the highest optimism or the lowest intellect.

The woodchuck (I don't particularly care if it was the same one or not) came back and is now raising its children in our nature haven of a back yard. I guess that's what we get for not trimming the grass more regularly, but it is truly a delight to see rabbits, chucks, squirrels, birds, and chickens mingling and living together in harmony. We've declared amnesty on the woodchucks now and it will stay that way so long as these ones don't touch the chicken feed. If they can avoid that, peace will be maintained and the lazy summer can continue.

OUT!! #4: Bird Song

Listening carefully outside the kitchen screen door, I hear the plaintive whistle of an Eastern Wood-Pewee (Contopus virens), a simple, but sweet "pee-ah-wee". I can vaguely hear the calls of other birds like robins, swifts, and sparrows. But the simple repeated message of the wood-pewee is a delightful sound to hear on a calm late spring day. Since it hasn't gotten to to solstice, it's still very late spring despite the temperatures we've seen on the East Coast lately.

A brief twittering indicates the presence of a hummingbird and a few seconds later, a jay calls it's scolding jaybird call. The wood-pewee has stopped. Although, I can hear other birds filling the vacancy left by this small brown bird of the trees, they don't do nearly as good a job of keeping my attention. The sharpness of the birds notes and the gentleness of its delivery reminds me of water in a stream. The song of late spring and early summer, easing us into the lazy, easy months of the year. What a joy it is to listen and appreciate these small things and their simple, yet elegant music.

OUT!! #3: Summer Blog Postings

I'm going to try and do this more regularly this summer so you guys can get a feel for the kind of work I'll be doing on Chimon Island which is part of the Stewart B. Mckinney NWR. I can't really say what I'll be doing yet, but I do know that this is going to be a fun and interesting summer that will probably be a door into a world that I until now had only really had glimpses into. To know that I'll be working with wildlife and their habitats this summer is a dream come true.


Now all I have to contend with are the ticks. :(


I thought I would be doing to following for the summer, but it didn't work out. I won't go into the details, but island stewardship wasn't really on my list of things to do. Put simply, I need to find something else to do in the mean time. I'll still post randomly as the blog title suggests, but I need to take some time to figure out what I need to do next. Finding another field position is top priority and doing so within the next few weeks is paramount to my getting experience in the ornithological world. I also need to find a part time job since all the summer positions have expectantly dried up. Oh well, I'm sure I'll find something.

Edit: I have returned to Drumlin Farm for a fourth summer as a camp counselor. This will certainly keep me busy and spice up my summer. Stay posted for more details.

OUT!! #2: A Duck From Wood

I have an interest in wildlife wood carvings, specifically ducks, that I've held for all my life. Ever since I got a copy of Duck Hunting by Dick Sternberg and Jeff Simpson, I have had in interest in the creation and design of duck decoys. Their unique forms coming from a solid block of wood and being transformed into beautiful works of historic art. The decoy makers of old such as Elmer Crowell, Mason Decoy Company, Harry V. Shourds, R. Madison Mitchell, and many others with their trademark styles, folk art roots as working objects designed for trickery and deception, and their simplistic beauty make them as an attractive of an art form as any of the fine arts.

A first time decoy. Hooded Merganser Female.

As a birder, wannabe hunter, and appreciator of the natural world, I can honestly say that I want this as a personal past time and as an art form. I tried several times through high school to get a grip on carving. My first attempts were to try to create a cardinal from a pine block. I didn't even get an outline done for the first few weeks and I tried to cut it out using a coping saw. "Too much work!", I thought at the time. This past Christmas, the gift of a Dremel and draw knife made the carving process much easier and as of last week, I have completed the first major phase of my Hooded Merganser decoy.

Head details including eye holes. Originally was going to be male (from the pencil marks on head), but decided to make it female to better fit the profile that the head presents.

Being a first time carving, there isn't much to look at. It's rough shape formed from the draw knife's repeated waves and strokes over pine 2x4s. I hope to work with cork next time for an easy supply of multiple bodies. My attempt at New Jersey style decoys (hollow as opposed to solid blocks) failed as my Dremel didn't seem to appreciate the idea of burning through several inches square of pine board. I tried drilling the holes demonstrated by many enthusiasts of this medium to speed the process. I even contemplated using a Native American technique called bowl burning to create the depressions needed for the hollow deek. The idea fell apart. Now I had two perfectly shaped sides (top and bottom) and a head piece I had created earlier. The head piece is made of basswood and looks fairly lifelike, though it resembled a Pileated Woodpecker earlier in the process than that of a hoodie. The pictures I've provided below should give a better impression of what I have come up with.

OUT!! #1: Arrow Bend or Why Carbons are Infinitely Better Than Aluminium Arrows

The victim with pen for scale.

After returning home for my two week spring break, I got the itch to shoot my bow. I've had it since high school, but every time I've said that I would go hunting, I always found something that would get in the way. Over the past semester and semester before, I discovered a love of carving and for this past Christmas, I received the Dremel I'd asked for. Boy did that make carving much easier. Now with this tool in hand, I finally had a new incentive to interact with the outdoor world.

Archery has also been an outlet for me as well. I've always enjoyed the feeling of the arrow leaving the bow, the swiftness with which it strikes its target, and the power the arrow has once contact has been made. As the title suggests, I'm here to talk about the power. I own a PSE Impala recurve bow that has a 50lb draw. This allows me if I wanted to (I don't, but there you are), to pursue the big game animals within my state such as white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) and black bear (Ursus americanus). It's also a good weight for general purpose shooting and for a man of my stature and size that works well.

As I was shooting today however, I ran into a familiar problem of mine. Aiming. While I've improved my overall accuracy (I can hit the target), my precision is so wacky, it's almost laughable. I was taking mostly kneeling shots as I wanted to simulate a hunting scenario where the game would be on alert, but still vaguely unaware of my presence. I've found that it's easy enough for me to be able to hit the target. I vaguely register where I want to hit the target, aim briefly, and with fairly good accuracy (70-80% in a hopeful guesstimate). On this occasion, I was using my Tough Bag® target and to prop it up, I had secured two aluminum arrows into the soft earth near where an old chestnut (Castanea sp.) used to stand. After several practice shots at 10 paces (baby steps still, I know), I backed up to about 15 paces or what looked to be 15ft away. After several more shots, I was nearing the end of my shooting session. I released an Easton® carbon arrow from my recurve, expecting it to hit the target or maybe even glance off. It was carrying a G5 Small Game Head® and what happened next was totally surprising, but completely expected.

The damage is done.

The noise the head made as it collided with the lower section of the planted arrow was akin to a small "tink". The devastation caused however, belied the small noise made by the small game head. The "tink" left (as the pictures demonstrate) a crippling bend on the hollow shaft. The arrow buckled, as the carbon arrow with its bludgeoning tip, ricocheted off and landed about a foot away. I laughed. I knew that aluminums were prone to bending due to glances and bashes, but having just witnessed the crushing power of a small game head mounted on a carbon shaft, I was all the more impressed by the performance of such a light, yet durable material. Certainly lighter than wood and infinitely more durable. As I picked up the mangled arrow, I remarked at the severity with which the arrow had been crippled. I knew that I wielded a very powerful weapon, but seeing its devastating power up close gave me all the more respect for such a primitive, but still clearly dangerous weapon. As for the hunt I thought; that would have to wait until I could hit a target with precision enough to warrant a clean kill. After all my target is waterfowl, not deer.