To my readers. As of June 9, 2008 this nature
Blog contributor, Earl Plato, is taking a month off.
BUT keep searching the web for nature offerings.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Disappointed
Disappointed by Earl Plato
Disappointed? Yes. Very much so. A group of us are heading to Pelee Island this month. This southern most island in Canada is found in western Lake Erie. Beyond it and further south is a small unpopulated island. I will never see this Middle island. Yes, it has rare fauna and flora. The Nature Conservancy of Canada spent a few years ago circa 2 million dollars to purchase it. Will you ever see it? I don’t think so.
Case in point. Thousands and thousands have walked the Marcy Woods trails. This beautiful piece of land was accessible to nature lovers over the years thanks to the caring Marcys. What’s the cost? No comparison to me as to the relative value between Marcy Woods and that small uninhabited Lake Erie island. It’s obvious - the Ontario government must spear head the final effort lead by our MPP Tim Hudak. Fort Erie residents who love Marcy Woods know where Mayor Wayne Redekop stands. This is it! Preserve Marcy Woods for future generations or just have memories!
***
“Hey, Earl, you want to check out the Marcy Alvar?” Rob Eberly continues to amaze me. I like to think that I have some thirst for natural history. My writing should help to attest to that but Rob has an unquenchable thirst for our flora and fauna. More than I ever had.
Alvar? My mind tried to recall - What’s an Alvar? Look it up, eh?
Alvar is an Estonian word that describes a limestone plain covered with scattered vegetation that endures extreme wet and dry conditions. Rob was on the search for some relatively rare flora. Alvars have their own unique flora that takes advantage of the extreme variations in moisture and the highly calcified soil and bedrock openings.
The Marcy property has a strip of land fronting on Matthews Road on the east side of the farm. Exposed bed rock with old-field thickets - an ideal spot for a parking lot if the Nature Conservancy of Canada ever secures the property for nature lovers. Wait! This is Alvar country. According to Rob there are plant species that occur few other places in Canada. Yes, famed Pelee Island has Alvars too. Check the snakes and butterflies that live in the Marcy Alvar. Rob Eberly, Ridgeway naturalist, knows.
Disappointed? Yes. Very much so. A group of us are heading to Pelee Island this month. This southern most island in Canada is found in western Lake Erie. Beyond it and further south is a small unpopulated island. I will never see this Middle island. Yes, it has rare fauna and flora. The Nature Conservancy of Canada spent a few years ago circa 2 million dollars to purchase it. Will you ever see it? I don’t think so.
Case in point. Thousands and thousands have walked the Marcy Woods trails. This beautiful piece of land was accessible to nature lovers over the years thanks to the caring Marcys. What’s the cost? No comparison to me as to the relative value between Marcy Woods and that small uninhabited Lake Erie island. It’s obvious - the Ontario government must spear head the final effort lead by our MPP Tim Hudak. Fort Erie residents who love Marcy Woods know where Mayor Wayne Redekop stands. This is it! Preserve Marcy Woods for future generations or just have memories!
***
“Hey, Earl, you want to check out the Marcy Alvar?” Rob Eberly continues to amaze me. I like to think that I have some thirst for natural history. My writing should help to attest to that but Rob has an unquenchable thirst for our flora and fauna. More than I ever had.
Alvar? My mind tried to recall - What’s an Alvar? Look it up, eh?
Alvar is an Estonian word that describes a limestone plain covered with scattered vegetation that endures extreme wet and dry conditions. Rob was on the search for some relatively rare flora. Alvars have their own unique flora that takes advantage of the extreme variations in moisture and the highly calcified soil and bedrock openings.
The Marcy property has a strip of land fronting on Matthews Road on the east side of the farm. Exposed bed rock with old-field thickets - an ideal spot for a parking lot if the Nature Conservancy of Canada ever secures the property for nature lovers. Wait! This is Alvar country. According to Rob there are plant species that occur few other places in Canada. Yes, famed Pelee Island has Alvars too. Check the snakes and butterflies that live in the Marcy Alvar. Rob Eberly, Ridgeway naturalist, knows.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Reflections
The Green Dragon Earl Plato
“Remember now they Creator in the days of thy youth” The Bible gives much instruction for leading a worthwhile life. The memories of my father and his friend, Bert Miller, well up in my memory as I recall those many days when we rambled Lincoln and Welland counties. As e approach Father’s Day 2008 let us reflect on some of these relationships.
Some memories of your youth are not as clear as others. This one fits into the “fuzzy” recollection.
One Saturday ramble was close to Bert’s home in the north end of Fort Erie. Father, Perc, and I had examined Bert’s skills of grafting at his Highland home. Bert said to my father let’s go to the springs. We parked on Thompson Road and entered the thick, thorny underbrush and headed eastwards. We found a spring bubbling up with the malodorous smell of sulphur, A hundred feet further in from the bend of the creek we found a clear, flowing spring of fresh, cool water. It was so clear you good look far down into the opening. That was many decades ago. Guess what? Thanks to Rob Eberly we found that same bubbling spring and something more.
I had written recently about two Marcy Woods plants, Skunk cabbage and Duckweed. Here deep in the woods next to the bubbling spring was a rare plant. Rob Eberly had found it and I want to share a little about the Green dragon plant.
It is usually a solitary greenish plant a relative of our Jack-in-the-pulpit. Unlike the “Jack” the Green dragon has a small hood. As we looked at it we noticed that the spadix protruded several inches below the hood. This is what is called the “dragon’s tongue.” This solitary plant was about two feet high. We returned in the fall and all that was left of the tall plant were orange, red and green berries. No, I didn’t take any.
Writer’s Note: As with the Jack-in-the-pulpit, the tuberous taproot of this plant can burn the mouth severely if ingested uncooked. I still recall the cries of Jim who had bitten into the tuber of a “Jack” many years ago. Jim had been warned by our scoutmaster. Some of us learn the hard way, eh.
***
April in Marcy Woods. Neil Reichelt, nature photographer, and I walked the Lower Trail of these beloved woods. Cool, too cool. At the entrance we listened for the sounds of frogs. Not a sound! We walked in and stopped while Neil took a shot of the two towering Norway spruces. This is where we saw a Southern flying squirrel glide from the top of one tree to the other. Neil took shots all along the way. We will use them for some articles.
We approached Marcy Pond this mid March and stopped and listened. No sounds of frogs at all. What gives? Were we too late? Just a little duckweed had started growing on the north edge of the pond. Birds? The caw of a crow and the very high trill of a Winter wren - that was it. We stopped at the cabin. Several trees had fallen along the Lower trail and cut up so you could walk. However, two trees that had fallen on the Upper Trail were still laying across the pathway. We descended the steps.
Marcy Woods is in a static state now but wait. To you who love nature, Marcy Woods will break out in colorful flowers and heart warming songs in just a little while. Believe me.
“Remember now they Creator in the days of thy youth” The Bible gives much instruction for leading a worthwhile life. The memories of my father and his friend, Bert Miller, well up in my memory as I recall those many days when we rambled Lincoln and Welland counties. As e approach Father’s Day 2008 let us reflect on some of these relationships.
Some memories of your youth are not as clear as others. This one fits into the “fuzzy” recollection.
One Saturday ramble was close to Bert’s home in the north end of Fort Erie. Father, Perc, and I had examined Bert’s skills of grafting at his Highland home. Bert said to my father let’s go to the springs. We parked on Thompson Road and entered the thick, thorny underbrush and headed eastwards. We found a spring bubbling up with the malodorous smell of sulphur, A hundred feet further in from the bend of the creek we found a clear, flowing spring of fresh, cool water. It was so clear you good look far down into the opening. That was many decades ago. Guess what? Thanks to Rob Eberly we found that same bubbling spring and something more.
I had written recently about two Marcy Woods plants, Skunk cabbage and Duckweed. Here deep in the woods next to the bubbling spring was a rare plant. Rob Eberly had found it and I want to share a little about the Green dragon plant.
It is usually a solitary greenish plant a relative of our Jack-in-the-pulpit. Unlike the “Jack” the Green dragon has a small hood. As we looked at it we noticed that the spadix protruded several inches below the hood. This is what is called the “dragon’s tongue.” This solitary plant was about two feet high. We returned in the fall and all that was left of the tall plant were orange, red and green berries. No, I didn’t take any.
Writer’s Note: As with the Jack-in-the-pulpit, the tuberous taproot of this plant can burn the mouth severely if ingested uncooked. I still recall the cries of Jim who had bitten into the tuber of a “Jack” many years ago. Jim had been warned by our scoutmaster. Some of us learn the hard way, eh.
***
April in Marcy Woods. Neil Reichelt, nature photographer, and I walked the Lower Trail of these beloved woods. Cool, too cool. At the entrance we listened for the sounds of frogs. Not a sound! We walked in and stopped while Neil took a shot of the two towering Norway spruces. This is where we saw a Southern flying squirrel glide from the top of one tree to the other. Neil took shots all along the way. We will use them for some articles.
We approached Marcy Pond this mid March and stopped and listened. No sounds of frogs at all. What gives? Were we too late? Just a little duckweed had started growing on the north edge of the pond. Birds? The caw of a crow and the very high trill of a Winter wren - that was it. We stopped at the cabin. Several trees had fallen along the Lower trail and cut up so you could walk. However, two trees that had fallen on the Upper Trail were still laying across the pathway. We descended the steps.
Marcy Woods is in a static state now but wait. To you who love nature, Marcy Woods will break out in colorful flowers and heart warming songs in just a little while. Believe me.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
oven bird -teacher,teacher
Ovenbird by Earl Plato
Deep into a wetlands with knee boots. Naturalist Ernie Giles, Debbie a botanist and me a nature lover sloshed along. South of Niagara Falls is an extensive wetlands called Willougby Marsh. No visible trails. Ernie our fauna nad flora expert stopped. There we three marvelled at the tallest Jack-in-the-Pulpit I had ever seen. Almost four feet tall! A Cooper’s hak soared over on this bright but very humid day. It was late June. Ernie Giles the complete naturalist. Keen eyesight, keen hearing and a wealth of knowledge makes up this man. Ernie stopped. He heard scratching sounds. He motioned to Debbie and I to stop. Look below. That was what we saw. An ovenbird was emerging from its nest. My first. This warbler gets it name from its peculiar ground nest. What we saw that day resembled a miniature Dutch oven. The ovenbird is olive-brown above and white below with dark streaks. Some call it a wood warbler. Ernie smiled at us two teachers. “Do you know its call?” it’s a loud staccato song - “teacher, teacher, teacher.”
We watched as the ovenbird oblivious to us entered its side entrance. A neat bird.
Deep into a wetlands with knee boots. Naturalist Ernie Giles, Debbie a botanist and me a nature lover sloshed along. South of Niagara Falls is an extensive wetlands called Willougby Marsh. No visible trails. Ernie our fauna nad flora expert stopped. There we three marvelled at the tallest Jack-in-the-Pulpit I had ever seen. Almost four feet tall! A Cooper’s hak soared over on this bright but very humid day. It was late June. Ernie Giles the complete naturalist. Keen eyesight, keen hearing and a wealth of knowledge makes up this man. Ernie stopped. He heard scratching sounds. He motioned to Debbie and I to stop. Look below. That was what we saw. An ovenbird was emerging from its nest. My first. This warbler gets it name from its peculiar ground nest. What we saw that day resembled a miniature Dutch oven. The ovenbird is olive-brown above and white below with dark streaks. Some call it a wood warbler. Ernie smiled at us two teachers. “Do you know its call?” it’s a loud staccato song - “teacher, teacher, teacher.”
We watched as the ovenbird oblivious to us entered its side entrance. A neat bird.
Confronaton
Nature article by Earl Plato
Watching animals this summer? What happens when one species suddenly confronts another of the same species? Do you observe how each reacts to the presence of the other? Do they act friendly, indifferent, frightened or hostile? On the family farm where we had more than ample feeders a host of a variety of bird species would eat often paying little attention to one another. But wait! Remember the pairs of Blue jays! One pair of jays would take over the feeder then a second pair would appear. “Get out of here!” Then the dominating third pair of jays would arrive and for the next ten minutes they ruled. That’s a “pecking order” and we should not interfere.
What if the animals you are observing are natural enemies? My advice is the same as Jim Arnosky, free lance writer. When you see such enemies confronting or even fighting in a natural setting, observe and don’t interfere.
Different animals react to the sight of their natural enemies differently. So. Most flee. Still some react in rage especially at nest making and raising young times. At Stevensville Conservation area I saw angry crows circling and diving at a Great horned owl resting in a tree. The noise was tremendous. I watched with my glasses as the owl perched blinking at the black birds as they tormented him. Then suddenly the owl flew east and the crows followed him. “Get out of our territory!” And it did.
Note: The Great horned owl is the crows worst enemy/
Silently it flies at night and attacks the defenseless crow in its nest and quickly wipes out the family. Horned owls are a living nightmare to the crow species. Whenever crows spy a Great horned owl in daylight they immediately call for help. They “mob” the owl and thus help each other to drive the killer away. Remember that’s part of the natural law. Just observe. ***
Joanne Stevenson called to report seeing a beaver at Point Abino. She and her friends at Bertie Boatt Club watched a huge aquatic animal swim to shore near the Buffalo Yacht Club. Size? Large and with the tell tale tail. No doubt about it.
Some years back Tim Seburn and I investigated reports of beavers in that same area. We went behind the Buffalo Yacht Club abd found tell tale signs. Several small aspes had been “beaver gnawed.” The drainage ditch was not far away. Beaver dam? I never saw one perhaps Tim did at some other time. Beavers in the Point Abino area? Yes.
Thanks Joanne. Armed with a Timmy’s I have been out a number of times looking for the elusive beaver(s). No luck yet.
Watching animals this summer? What happens when one species suddenly confronts another of the same species? Do you observe how each reacts to the presence of the other? Do they act friendly, indifferent, frightened or hostile? On the family farm where we had more than ample feeders a host of a variety of bird species would eat often paying little attention to one another. But wait! Remember the pairs of Blue jays! One pair of jays would take over the feeder then a second pair would appear. “Get out of here!” Then the dominating third pair of jays would arrive and for the next ten minutes they ruled. That’s a “pecking order” and we should not interfere.
What if the animals you are observing are natural enemies? My advice is the same as Jim Arnosky, free lance writer. When you see such enemies confronting or even fighting in a natural setting, observe and don’t interfere.
Different animals react to the sight of their natural enemies differently. So. Most flee. Still some react in rage especially at nest making and raising young times. At Stevensville Conservation area I saw angry crows circling and diving at a Great horned owl resting in a tree. The noise was tremendous. I watched with my glasses as the owl perched blinking at the black birds as they tormented him. Then suddenly the owl flew east and the crows followed him. “Get out of our territory!” And it did.
Note: The Great horned owl is the crows worst enemy/
Silently it flies at night and attacks the defenseless crow in its nest and quickly wipes out the family. Horned owls are a living nightmare to the crow species. Whenever crows spy a Great horned owl in daylight they immediately call for help. They “mob” the owl and thus help each other to drive the killer away. Remember that’s part of the natural law. Just observe. ***
Joanne Stevenson called to report seeing a beaver at Point Abino. She and her friends at Bertie Boatt Club watched a huge aquatic animal swim to shore near the Buffalo Yacht Club. Size? Large and with the tell tale tail. No doubt about it.
Some years back Tim Seburn and I investigated reports of beavers in that same area. We went behind the Buffalo Yacht Club abd found tell tale signs. Several small aspes had been “beaver gnawed.” The drainage ditch was not far away. Beaver dam? I never saw one perhaps Tim did at some other time. Beavers in the Point Abino area? Yes.
Thanks Joanne. Armed with a Timmy’s I have been out a number of times looking for the elusive beaver(s). No luck yet.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
NATURE ARTICLE - NATURE NOTES - by Earl Plato
OAK LEAVES - A NEW YEAR'S LESSON
George Foss of Sherkston and I walked the trails of the Stevensville Conservation Park in December. We passed by various oaks, red, white and two large Burr oaks. They all had one thing in common. There were varying numbers of leaves still on each of their branches. A LESSON FROM THE OAK TREE
Have you ever noticed that in late fall and winter some oak trees retain crisp, dry leaves long after maples, the elms and the walnuts have become bare skeletons? When we return to the Stevensville site in spring we will find that the strong winter winds and the early spring rains have not stripped the oak branches completely. This is what I read recently in a devotional booklet,
"As springtime progresses, something wonderful happens. Tiny little oak leaf buds start appearing at the tips of the twigs, pushing off the dried remnants of the preceding season. What the winds and rains could not do without, the forces of new life do from within."
Now you don't have to wait to spring in order to make new resolutions for 1994. We all know that at times old habits, that are not essentially good for us, cling to our lives with the same tenacity as those old oak leaves. The message is: "The best way to get rid of a bad habit is to start a good habit." The writer also says, "Rely on God and he will give you the strength to push off our old habits." That's good advice.
STEVENSVILLE CONSERVATION AREA
I had been here a few weeks before to see the Conservation Authority's new permanent display board. There's a map and some descriptions of what you'll see. George had never been to the conservation area before or walked the paths. He pointed on the map to the pickerel hatching pond and I was not sharp enough to tell him where it was. We started out. It was not the best day to do so for the sun never shone and I remind you that there were slippery spots along the trails. Black-capped chickadees greeted us and in the distance a Blue Jay hollered his recognition of us. We walked across the new bridge to Mount Stevensville ( the man made hill) and from its height looked out over the December landscape. George found some fox droppings on the hill trail. Once down the hill he asked me about one of the plants still green and growing close to the ground. Believe me, I had learned from Ernie Giles what it was but alas the old memory failed me. George identified some wild barley grass. I thought that it might be rye grass but my book on grasses failed to verify which of us was right. Looks like we will have to return again. I should have taken a sample home for study. He mentioned the pickerel pond again. I told him that the lagoon to our left was stocked with fish in May. I still hadn't caught on to where the pickerel hatchery was.
We returned and walked along the edge of the creek and crossed the bridge where the Black Creek gets one of its two main sources. This one branch had its head water from Humberstone Marsh in Port Colborne. We turned right and took the Inner Trail. This is a pleasant walk high on the bank. Below us and to our right, easily seen through the leafless trees was, the Creek Trail following the meandering of Black Creek. The two of us stirred up the debris under a large Bur Oak. Note: I apologize to the Fort Erie Conservation Club for insisting on spelling Bur with two "r's." Their sign is correct. As hard as we looked we found no acorns with the unique "bur" edges. We reached the junction of the three Trails, the Outer, Inner, and Creek. Along the way in this area someone had tied pieces of wool to the branches of trees in a haphazard fashion. Why? There is a little bench here and there once was a bird feeding station. Again chickadees flitted in the underbrush and sang their familiar song. We headed north along the outer trail. Someone had cut back the branches of encroaching evergreens. At first we thought someone had entered the Conservation area for some Christmas trees. Not.
George asked what the trees with the almost birch - like trunk colour was. I said aspen, trembling aspen. The "trembling" part was gone. I had seen these trees some weeks before when their leaves with their light under colour were plentiful and would move in the slightest breeze and give that "trembling" effect. There were three clumps of young aspens as we headed back into the evergreen growths. Now, I never admit to being lost. If we had continued and reached the inner trail we would have seen the little bridge and the way back to the car. Instead I told George we would have to backtrack. We did and reached the Creek Trail. This trail was a little slippery. The water was flowing freely. Someone had used railway ties to "shore up" the creek banks in order to slow down the erosion.
We arrived back at the little bridge and followed the hilly Cline Nature trail back to the car. Autumn olive and high bush cranberry bushes lined the creek here. A feeder station at the tree had plenty of chickadees and some slate coloured juncos.
We looked at the map on the Conservation Authority sign again and I then realized that the Pickerel Hatchery was behind the Club building. The pond was dredged and almost empty. Drain pipes from the two outer buildings led into the pond. Construction of an addition was underway.
Take some time to visit the Stevensville Conservation Authority Park. I am sure that once you enjoy the peacefulness of the setting you will return again.
THE SCHNEIDER'S HERONRY - THAT SAME DAY
I am looking at some photos I recently took of Great Blue Heron nests. I am not talking about five or ten roughly formed nests of sticks. At 11:03 a.m. on that same day of our visit to Stevensville Conservation Area we pulled into Don Schneider's old place on Bowen Road. Let me explain that the Schneiders no longer live here.
ASK PERMISSION FIRST
I asked permission to enter the wet area behind the property where the heronry was located. You can see about 18 nests from Bowen Road. Always seek permission when entering private land. A SIGHT TO BEHOLD
George walked on ahead as I fiddled with my camera and mini-tape recorder. We had to navigate bodies of water but the sight that was unfolding was amazing. I had seen perhaps 25 heron nests in the Alabama Swamp outside of Lockport, New York. George called out, "There's at least 40 here!" He was right. As we walked on we counted 20 more. I took my bird glasses and focused in on the nests. We both agreed that they were rough structures indeed and wondered how the young chicks could remain safe.
WRITER'S NOTE: Great Blue Herons have from 3-5 pale greenish-blue eggs in a nest lined with finer material on a platform of sticks.
We couldn't see this finer material in the nest but remember this was December. One tree had five nests in it. If you have had heard the hoarse, guttural squack of this giant bird you can imagine the level of noise in just this one tree if all the nests were inhabited. The question: When the herons return from the South do they use the same nest again? We hope to answer that question in Spring of 1994.
We drove down Winger Road past the Darleen Wildlife Refuge of the Schneiders. Hundreds of Canada Geese surrounded their pond. We looked to our right, eastwards, into the woods and spotted a few more heron nests. We estimated that in all there were over 60 nests. Amazing, and here in Greater Fort Erie.
Remember nature is at your doorstep anytime of year. Best wishes for the New Year and take some time to enjoy the outdoors in '08.
OAK LEAVES - A NEW YEAR'S LESSON
George Foss of Sherkston and I walked the trails of the Stevensville Conservation Park in December. We passed by various oaks, red, white and two large Burr oaks. They all had one thing in common. There were varying numbers of leaves still on each of their branches. A LESSON FROM THE OAK TREE
Have you ever noticed that in late fall and winter some oak trees retain crisp, dry leaves long after maples, the elms and the walnuts have become bare skeletons? When we return to the Stevensville site in spring we will find that the strong winter winds and the early spring rains have not stripped the oak branches completely. This is what I read recently in a devotional booklet,
"As springtime progresses, something wonderful happens. Tiny little oak leaf buds start appearing at the tips of the twigs, pushing off the dried remnants of the preceding season. What the winds and rains could not do without, the forces of new life do from within."
Now you don't have to wait to spring in order to make new resolutions for 1994. We all know that at times old habits, that are not essentially good for us, cling to our lives with the same tenacity as those old oak leaves. The message is: "The best way to get rid of a bad habit is to start a good habit." The writer also says, "Rely on God and he will give you the strength to push off our old habits." That's good advice.
STEVENSVILLE CONSERVATION AREA
I had been here a few weeks before to see the Conservation Authority's new permanent display board. There's a map and some descriptions of what you'll see. George had never been to the conservation area before or walked the paths. He pointed on the map to the pickerel hatching pond and I was not sharp enough to tell him where it was. We started out. It was not the best day to do so for the sun never shone and I remind you that there were slippery spots along the trails. Black-capped chickadees greeted us and in the distance a Blue Jay hollered his recognition of us. We walked across the new bridge to Mount Stevensville ( the man made hill) and from its height looked out over the December landscape. George found some fox droppings on the hill trail. Once down the hill he asked me about one of the plants still green and growing close to the ground. Believe me, I had learned from Ernie Giles what it was but alas the old memory failed me. George identified some wild barley grass. I thought that it might be rye grass but my book on grasses failed to verify which of us was right. Looks like we will have to return again. I should have taken a sample home for study. He mentioned the pickerel pond again. I told him that the lagoon to our left was stocked with fish in May. I still hadn't caught on to where the pickerel hatchery was.
We returned and walked along the edge of the creek and crossed the bridge where the Black Creek gets one of its two main sources. This one branch had its head water from Humberstone Marsh in Port Colborne. We turned right and took the Inner Trail. This is a pleasant walk high on the bank. Below us and to our right, easily seen through the leafless trees was, the Creek Trail following the meandering of Black Creek. The two of us stirred up the debris under a large Bur Oak. Note: I apologize to the Fort Erie Conservation Club for insisting on spelling Bur with two "r's." Their sign is correct. As hard as we looked we found no acorns with the unique "bur" edges. We reached the junction of the three Trails, the Outer, Inner, and Creek. Along the way in this area someone had tied pieces of wool to the branches of trees in a haphazard fashion. Why? There is a little bench here and there once was a bird feeding station. Again chickadees flitted in the underbrush and sang their familiar song. We headed north along the outer trail. Someone had cut back the branches of encroaching evergreens. At first we thought someone had entered the Conservation area for some Christmas trees. Not.
George asked what the trees with the almost birch - like trunk colour was. I said aspen, trembling aspen. The "trembling" part was gone. I had seen these trees some weeks before when their leaves with their light under colour were plentiful and would move in the slightest breeze and give that "trembling" effect. There were three clumps of young aspens as we headed back into the evergreen growths. Now, I never admit to being lost. If we had continued and reached the inner trail we would have seen the little bridge and the way back to the car. Instead I told George we would have to backtrack. We did and reached the Creek Trail. This trail was a little slippery. The water was flowing freely. Someone had used railway ties to "shore up" the creek banks in order to slow down the erosion.
We arrived back at the little bridge and followed the hilly Cline Nature trail back to the car. Autumn olive and high bush cranberry bushes lined the creek here. A feeder station at the tree had plenty of chickadees and some slate coloured juncos.
We looked at the map on the Conservation Authority sign again and I then realized that the Pickerel Hatchery was behind the Club building. The pond was dredged and almost empty. Drain pipes from the two outer buildings led into the pond. Construction of an addition was underway.
Take some time to visit the Stevensville Conservation Authority Park. I am sure that once you enjoy the peacefulness of the setting you will return again.
THE SCHNEIDER'S HERONRY - THAT SAME DAY
I am looking at some photos I recently took of Great Blue Heron nests. I am not talking about five or ten roughly formed nests of sticks. At 11:03 a.m. on that same day of our visit to Stevensville Conservation Area we pulled into Don Schneider's old place on Bowen Road. Let me explain that the Schneiders no longer live here.
ASK PERMISSION FIRST
I asked permission to enter the wet area behind the property where the heronry was located. You can see about 18 nests from Bowen Road. Always seek permission when entering private land. A SIGHT TO BEHOLD
George walked on ahead as I fiddled with my camera and mini-tape recorder. We had to navigate bodies of water but the sight that was unfolding was amazing. I had seen perhaps 25 heron nests in the Alabama Swamp outside of Lockport, New York. George called out, "There's at least 40 here!" He was right. As we walked on we counted 20 more. I took my bird glasses and focused in on the nests. We both agreed that they were rough structures indeed and wondered how the young chicks could remain safe.
WRITER'S NOTE: Great Blue Herons have from 3-5 pale greenish-blue eggs in a nest lined with finer material on a platform of sticks.
We couldn't see this finer material in the nest but remember this was December. One tree had five nests in it. If you have had heard the hoarse, guttural squack of this giant bird you can imagine the level of noise in just this one tree if all the nests were inhabited. The question: When the herons return from the South do they use the same nest again? We hope to answer that question in Spring of 1994.
We drove down Winger Road past the Darleen Wildlife Refuge of the Schneiders. Hundreds of Canada Geese surrounded their pond. We looked to our right, eastwards, into the woods and spotted a few more heron nests. We estimated that in all there were over 60 nests. Amazing, and here in Greater Fort Erie.
Remember nature is at your doorstep anytime of year. Best wishes for the New Year and take some time to enjoy the outdoors in '08.
Bobolinks and Bertie
Bobolinks in Old Bertie by Earl Plato
I grew up with meadowlarks and bobolinks. The time was
WW2 and the fields to the west of our Bertie Township home were ideal for those two birds. No DDT then.
Here in 2008 daughter Allison and I saw bobolinks on the edge of Marcy Woods. Allison asked, “What are those birds with the white rumps? I looked at the birds which were black with white rumps. Bobolinks. That’s right in the fields on the Marcy farm Rob Eberly and I had seen bobolinks in previous years. This is the bird that winters in Argentina, South America! Here in late May he flies our fields again. I say that his flight is like goldfinches - an undulating graceful flight. Listen as they fly by. It is a series of joyful, bubbling, tumbling, gurgling sounds with each note I am told on a different pitch.
As a youth I uncovered a bobolink nest in our field. There were five spotted with red-brown and purple. They were well nestled in a cup of grass, stems, and small rootlets. It was not as well constructed as its neighbour the meadowlark. Migration? Apparently they flock together in large numbers for the migration flight south. In southern United States they are called “Rice birds”. That makes sense. They have to fuel up for they still have a ways to go. Like fir the white rump.
I grew up with meadowlarks and bobolinks. The time was
WW2 and the fields to the west of our Bertie Township home were ideal for those two birds. No DDT then.
Here in 2008 daughter Allison and I saw bobolinks on the edge of Marcy Woods. Allison asked, “What are those birds with the white rumps? I looked at the birds which were black with white rumps. Bobolinks. That’s right in the fields on the Marcy farm Rob Eberly and I had seen bobolinks in previous years. This is the bird that winters in Argentina, South America! Here in late May he flies our fields again. I say that his flight is like goldfinches - an undulating graceful flight. Listen as they fly by. It is a series of joyful, bubbling, tumbling, gurgling sounds with each note I am told on a different pitch.
As a youth I uncovered a bobolink nest in our field. There were five spotted with red-brown and purple. They were well nestled in a cup of grass, stems, and small rootlets. It was not as well constructed as its neighbour the meadowlark. Migration? Apparently they flock together in large numbers for the migration flight south. In southern United States they are called “Rice birds”. That makes sense. They have to fuel up for they still have a ways to go. Like fir the white rump.
Monday, June 2, 2008
I remember the Meadowlark
The Meadowlark of Years Past by Earl Plato
I remember it well. Just a young lad at our Garrison Road home
My cat “Whitey” had brought back a dead bird and laid it near our chicken house. Thanks to the late naturalist Bert Miller I recognized the beautiful bird. It was a meadowlark. In the open fields to the west of us we had many meadowlarks and bobolinks.
You could hear the meadowlarks clear, mellow whistle - see-ya, see-your.
As we walked those fields we would hear a loud rattling warning note. Soon a meadowlark would rise up. I learned that the local farmer who cut the fields that had lots of clover destroyed many nests by mowing. We were told unless it was too late in the season they might nest again. Come fall migration time our meadowlarks would ban together in groups of around ten, Remember the bird’s breast, bright yellow crossed by a black “V”. See any lately? I did.
I remember it well. Just a young lad at our Garrison Road home
My cat “Whitey” had brought back a dead bird and laid it near our chicken house. Thanks to the late naturalist Bert Miller I recognized the beautiful bird. It was a meadowlark. In the open fields to the west of us we had many meadowlarks and bobolinks.
You could hear the meadowlarks clear, mellow whistle - see-ya, see-your.
As we walked those fields we would hear a loud rattling warning note. Soon a meadowlark would rise up. I learned that the local farmer who cut the fields that had lots of clover destroyed many nests by mowing. We were told unless it was too late in the season they might nest again. Come fall migration time our meadowlarks would ban together in groups of around ten, Remember the bird’s breast, bright yellow crossed by a black “V”. See any lately? I did.
Mud Turtles
Six Mile Creek and Mud Turtles. By Earl Plato
We parked our car on Centralia Avenue and walked the Friendship Trail to the bridge on Six Mile Creek. I do this once a week or so. My goal to listen to bird songs and to see basking mud turtles. This bright sunny morning June 2nd, 2008 no turtles. Often we would see a pair resting on a floating board. From late April to October our turtles thrive along this creek. So stop and take a look.
In other re creeks and ponds dry up. That’s when our mud turtles may move overland. I have seen dead and injured mud turtles on Erie Road over the years. I have encountered angry Snapping turtles. No fooling with hem/ The Audubon guide reads as follows: Mud turtles are mild-tempered, while others are feisty and do not hesitate to bite. So enjoy our Mud Turtles up close. Underside yellow to brown as I recall.
We parked our car on Centralia Avenue and walked the Friendship Trail to the bridge on Six Mile Creek. I do this once a week or so. My goal to listen to bird songs and to see basking mud turtles. This bright sunny morning June 2nd, 2008 no turtles. Often we would see a pair resting on a floating board. From late April to October our turtles thrive along this creek. So stop and take a look.
In other re creeks and ponds dry up. That’s when our mud turtles may move overland. I have seen dead and injured mud turtles on Erie Road over the years. I have encountered angry Snapping turtles. No fooling with hem/ The Audubon guide reads as follows: Mud turtles are mild-tempered, while others are feisty and do not hesitate to bite. So enjoy our Mud Turtles up close. Underside yellow to brown as I recall.
Bluebird Country
Bluebird Country by Earl Plato
Where do I go to see one of my favourite birds, the
Eastern bluebird? I could dive to Beaver Meadows south of Buffalo, N.Y. I could go west to Wainfleet near the lake where I have seen as many as ten at a time. Look at Wendy Booth’s photo below. When Elaine and I go to church in Sherkston we sometime drive to he Beach cemetery. Elaine’s relatives are buried there. Someday we will be too. Near the end of the drive going in is a bluebird box erected by Rob Eberly of Ridgeway. There often perched on a fence post this past spring were a pair of bluebirds. This is the nearest and best place to see these birds. What’s your favourite location?
Ever hear a bluebird call when flying? As they flit around the Beach cemetery grounds e hear a liquid and musical “queedle” sound. Those who have heard it know what I mean. It is an unmistakable bluebird signature.
Audubon guide says, “ Its song is a soft melodious warble.”
Where do I go to see one of my favourite birds, the
Eastern bluebird? I could dive to Beaver Meadows south of Buffalo, N.Y. I could go west to Wainfleet near the lake where I have seen as many as ten at a time. Look at Wendy Booth’s photo below. When Elaine and I go to church in Sherkston we sometime drive to he Beach cemetery. Elaine’s relatives are buried there. Someday we will be too. Near the end of the drive going in is a bluebird box erected by Rob Eberly of Ridgeway. There often perched on a fence post this past spring were a pair of bluebirds. This is the nearest and best place to see these birds. What’s your favourite location?
Ever hear a bluebird call when flying? As they flit around the Beach cemetery grounds e hear a liquid and musical “queedle” sound. Those who have heard it know what I mean. It is an unmistakable bluebird signature.
Audubon guide says, “ Its song is a soft melodious warble.”
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Wainfleet. Ontario
nn3802 Earl Plato
Wainfleet, close and yet so far. The four of us put the boat in at Dunnville’s public dock about six p.m. this past August evening. John moved his good-sized craft easily down the runway and into the calm waters of the Grand River. This was to be a sight and fishing expedition of a few hours.
It had taken us about twenty minutes from the O’ Brien’s of Wainfleet located on the Welland River to reach Dunnville and our launching place, Close and not so far.
The Grand, that great river from the northwest, was our waterway to Cayuga. Yes, we had been on the river in past years but not for some trolling. This night we counted but three fishermen in their little boats. John has a depth measuring device, “14 feet here - a good place for pickerel. we’ll fish here on the way back.” he commented.
I had my camera and took plenty of shots. Remember the time - growing shadows and some good reflections. Weeping and river willows - plenty of them. We passed the trailer site. Plenty of trailers and docks but few people. Think! It’s dinner time, eh.
We eventually approached the bridge at the town of Cayuga. Time to head back downstream. John set up out trolling poles. He told me that he had given me a good lure. Diane took over the wheel and we trolled.
A hit! A fair-sized hit for john. A two foot gray-coloured fish came to the surface. “The net!” What a strange fish. Unlike anything I had ever seen. Elaine snapped some shots. John weighed the creature - two and a half pounds. This fish had a rounded tail like an ancient coelacanth. It had a large head and a mouth equipped with strong sharp teeth. It’s back was covered with a series of small fins. No keeper this! Back into the water but we had some photos. You regular fishermen know the species- the Bowfin.
It was growing dark when we arrived back at the Dunnville dock. It was a great trip on a great river. To be exact a Grand river.
***
I didn’t intend to lie but the response from cat lovers made me add another cat myth tale.
Cat lovers there are in Niagara. No doubt about it. One old friend questioned the existence of ‘Whitey’. Brother, Ed, confirmed to him that my pet cat did live. I have only fond memories of that favourite feline. Yes, my mother had no great love for cats but she never discouraged us from having them as pets as long as they stayed outside. She was always faithful in feeding them when we forgot our duties.
From the Buffalo News “Debunking some old cat tales.” Cats are a danger to babies. With two pregnant daughters should we be afraid?
Only one daughter has a pet house cat - a beautiful black and white feline named Daytona. She is truly a house cat. Here’s what Gina Spadafori of the News wrote. “Cats do not maliciously smother or suck the breath out of babies, as the myths hold. That doesn’t mean some considerations aren’t in order, however. Pregnant women have to take special precautions when cleaning the litter box - or have someone else do it - because of the risk of disease. Yes, even animal advocates remind new parents that common sense dictates no animal be left unattended with a small child - for the protection of both.”
Wainfleet, close and yet so far. The four of us put the boat in at Dunnville’s public dock about six p.m. this past August evening. John moved his good-sized craft easily down the runway and into the calm waters of the Grand River. This was to be a sight and fishing expedition of a few hours.
It had taken us about twenty minutes from the O’ Brien’s of Wainfleet located on the Welland River to reach Dunnville and our launching place, Close and not so far.
The Grand, that great river from the northwest, was our waterway to Cayuga. Yes, we had been on the river in past years but not for some trolling. This night we counted but three fishermen in their little boats. John has a depth measuring device, “14 feet here - a good place for pickerel. we’ll fish here on the way back.” he commented.
I had my camera and took plenty of shots. Remember the time - growing shadows and some good reflections. Weeping and river willows - plenty of them. We passed the trailer site. Plenty of trailers and docks but few people. Think! It’s dinner time, eh.
We eventually approached the bridge at the town of Cayuga. Time to head back downstream. John set up out trolling poles. He told me that he had given me a good lure. Diane took over the wheel and we trolled.
A hit! A fair-sized hit for john. A two foot gray-coloured fish came to the surface. “The net!” What a strange fish. Unlike anything I had ever seen. Elaine snapped some shots. John weighed the creature - two and a half pounds. This fish had a rounded tail like an ancient coelacanth. It had a large head and a mouth equipped with strong sharp teeth. It’s back was covered with a series of small fins. No keeper this! Back into the water but we had some photos. You regular fishermen know the species- the Bowfin.
It was growing dark when we arrived back at the Dunnville dock. It was a great trip on a great river. To be exact a Grand river.
***
I didn’t intend to lie but the response from cat lovers made me add another cat myth tale.
Cat lovers there are in Niagara. No doubt about it. One old friend questioned the existence of ‘Whitey’. Brother, Ed, confirmed to him that my pet cat did live. I have only fond memories of that favourite feline. Yes, my mother had no great love for cats but she never discouraged us from having them as pets as long as they stayed outside. She was always faithful in feeding them when we forgot our duties.
From the Buffalo News “Debunking some old cat tales.” Cats are a danger to babies. With two pregnant daughters should we be afraid?
Only one daughter has a pet house cat - a beautiful black and white feline named Daytona. She is truly a house cat. Here’s what Gina Spadafori of the News wrote. “Cats do not maliciously smother or suck the breath out of babies, as the myths hold. That doesn’t mean some considerations aren’t in order, however. Pregnant women have to take special precautions when cleaning the litter box - or have someone else do it - because of the risk of disease. Yes, even animal advocates remind new parents that common sense dictates no animal be left unattended with a small child - for the protection of both.”
Rondeau
Rondeau Park Ontario Earl Plato
Take a little walk with me? I am often a repeat visitor to certain places in nature. I mainly like to return to settings I have enjoyed in previous walks. I have numerous albums with photos to refresh memories. This memory walk was realized this summer when Elaine and I returned to Rondeau Park on the shores of Lake Erie. This time we did not have our deceased little Sheltie with us. No staying for a few days as before. This was an afternoon stroll. on he Tulip Tree Trail. It was a perfect August summer day at Rondeau. If you have been there no need to read on further. This is my attempt to lure Niagara readers to his great sand spit.
Rondeau lies at the meeting place of two lake water currents. Look at your map and you can asceratin that one is from the east - the other from the west. As these two currents meet they slow down and drop the sand and gravel in parallel sandbars off Rondeau’s shore. Eventually a sandspit was formed.
The Rondeau spit grew over thousands of years and the sand bars once off shore now here in 2001 are found in a series of ridges along Tulip Tree Trail. That’s right we were walking on the old lake bed.
***
“What are you doing Earl? “What are you doing George?” Tuesday, October 9th Rob Eberly called me and George Sherk and asked the above question.
No problem, we two old timers were ready to go.
Noontime we headed northwest from Ridgeway. We three are bird watchers and we kept our eyes open. First destination- Rob is a tree lover. He laments when apparently healthy trees are cut down. As we approached our nature site I could see the towering branches of the giant maple, The Comfort maple is believed to be Canada’s largest Sugar maple (Acer sacharum). Believe it. All three of us had been here before. Rob and I tried to capture the full dimensions of the Comfort maple. Step back. Step back. You know the story. Where was my wide-angle lens? We took snaps from different angles. Like trees? Visit the Comfort maple and thank those who have preserved rhis great tree.
We headed formtheVineland Experimental Station but first made a detour into the McKeever Owl Foundation Centre. This is a private setting on the west bank of Twenty Mile Creek. Rob spotted a Snowy Owl in one of the structures as we drove out.
Next stop. Into theVineland station. Purpose to see Rhododendrons and Azaleas and their seed pods. This Rob acomplished. This place is worth the visit during the flowering season. Remember to walk the tunnel to where the magnificent Rhododendrons will be blooming. No charge and plenty of parking.
Jordan Harbour and Jordan Station not far away. Let’s see if the salmon are running. We walked down o the water;s edge. We found one lone fisherman casting his line. I asked if he had seen any of the large fish. “Five or six.” He said in two weeks they should be heading up the Twenty-Mile Creek in force.
Final stop. This is Paw paw time. These trees develop fruit the size of a large plum. On this side road near the Queenston Golf course Rob retrieved a half dozen of the fruit of the Paw paw tree. Ever smell the fruit? It has a custard-like odour at least in my description.
Thanks to Rob we accomplished this Niagara Peninsula outdoor survey on a sunny afternoon.
Take a little walk with me? I am often a repeat visitor to certain places in nature. I mainly like to return to settings I have enjoyed in previous walks. I have numerous albums with photos to refresh memories. This memory walk was realized this summer when Elaine and I returned to Rondeau Park on the shores of Lake Erie. This time we did not have our deceased little Sheltie with us. No staying for a few days as before. This was an afternoon stroll. on he Tulip Tree Trail. It was a perfect August summer day at Rondeau. If you have been there no need to read on further. This is my attempt to lure Niagara readers to his great sand spit.
Rondeau lies at the meeting place of two lake water currents. Look at your map and you can asceratin that one is from the east - the other from the west. As these two currents meet they slow down and drop the sand and gravel in parallel sandbars off Rondeau’s shore. Eventually a sandspit was formed.
The Rondeau spit grew over thousands of years and the sand bars once off shore now here in 2001 are found in a series of ridges along Tulip Tree Trail. That’s right we were walking on the old lake bed.
***
“What are you doing Earl? “What are you doing George?” Tuesday, October 9th Rob Eberly called me and George Sherk and asked the above question.
No problem, we two old timers were ready to go.
Noontime we headed northwest from Ridgeway. We three are bird watchers and we kept our eyes open. First destination- Rob is a tree lover. He laments when apparently healthy trees are cut down. As we approached our nature site I could see the towering branches of the giant maple, The Comfort maple is believed to be Canada’s largest Sugar maple (Acer sacharum). Believe it. All three of us had been here before. Rob and I tried to capture the full dimensions of the Comfort maple. Step back. Step back. You know the story. Where was my wide-angle lens? We took snaps from different angles. Like trees? Visit the Comfort maple and thank those who have preserved rhis great tree.
We headed formtheVineland Experimental Station but first made a detour into the McKeever Owl Foundation Centre. This is a private setting on the west bank of Twenty Mile Creek. Rob spotted a Snowy Owl in one of the structures as we drove out.
Next stop. Into theVineland station. Purpose to see Rhododendrons and Azaleas and their seed pods. This Rob acomplished. This place is worth the visit during the flowering season. Remember to walk the tunnel to where the magnificent Rhododendrons will be blooming. No charge and plenty of parking.
Jordan Harbour and Jordan Station not far away. Let’s see if the salmon are running. We walked down o the water;s edge. We found one lone fisherman casting his line. I asked if he had seen any of the large fish. “Five or six.” He said in two weeks they should be heading up the Twenty-Mile Creek in force.
Final stop. This is Paw paw time. These trees develop fruit the size of a large plum. On this side road near the Queenston Golf course Rob retrieved a half dozen of the fruit of the Paw paw tree. Ever smell the fruit? It has a custard-like odour at least in my description.
Thanks to Rob we accomplished this Niagara Peninsula outdoor survey on a sunny afternoon.
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