The magic of Cranberry

Dawn on this early May morning was chilly. Frost warnings had been issued the night before, and at breakfast we heard about how snow had accumulated overnight in the higher elevations of the West Virginia mountains. Bundled in as many layers as I had packed, I still found myself shivering under the cover of the pavilion where we all gathered to share a hot meal, coffee, and a mutual lack of sleep. Soon we would load up our buses for another day of magnificent birding.

This was the day of the festival that I looked forward to the most. An entire day spent in one location: Cranberry Glades (or just "Cranberry," for short). At an elevation of 3400 feet in the Monongahela National Forest, Cranberry Glades is a cluster of bogs with habitat and boreal conditions akin to what you might find in more northern climes such as New England or Canada. As we drove into the visitor's center, we saw on the ground some of the snow that we had heard about at breakfast. Snow-capped trees were also visible on the mountain tops that formed a ring around us in the bog.

There is a quarter-mile boardwalk that allows for safe passage over the delicate ecosystem of the bog. It took our group 3 hours to cover this short distance. In that time we thoroughly examined every aspect of the bog that caught our attention, and probably could have stayed for many more hours without having even scratched the surface of the abundance of life that could be found there.

Ravens called and played overhead. We were accompanied by the persistent and plaintive YANK YANK YANK calling of a Red-breasted Nuthatch. Warblers were abundant, to the point where we were saying, "Oh, it's just another Blackburnian [Warbler]." Rare and intriguing flora surrounded us on all sides. We were in a biologically lush paradise.



Bog Rosemary

Green Hellebore

Bartram's Serviceberry

Lichen dotted tree branches at every turn.
The birds were relatively close, and mostly easy to spot. Swamp Sparrows popped up and sang on the first stretch of the trail. A sassy male Golden-crowned Kinglet flashed his firey head crest at us, incensed that we were intruding on his territory. And those darn Blackburnians were everywhere. I didn't bother keeping a list of the birds that day, though. There were too many strange things underfoot that I had to keep track of, things I'd never seen before.


Corallorhiza trifida - A coralroot orchid, commonly known as Early Coralroot or Yellow Coralroot.

These ferns may look like they are headed for the grave, but they are just emerging.

Others are more obvious in their emergence, looking as if they are dancing or preparing for an embrace.
After lunch, we continued exploring the area, taking part in some roadside birding and botanizing. The pace of the entire day was relaxed and peaceful, but each new plant or bird that we found left me feeling more alive and exhilarated. This, after all, is where the Black-throated Blue Warbler showed himself to us, and made me stop short. There was no denying that this place was magical.


Swamp Saxifrage, with the glittering diamonds of a running creek in the background.

Dwarf Ginseng
I'm guessing that most natural places would reveal themselves to be magical, if we were able to spend enough time getting to know them. It is wonderful to be allowed to take your time with a place, with a plant, with a bird. To move slowly through it, absorbing things at the pace your consciousness deems appropriate - for the consciousness knows that these things are meant to be savored. Walk for a while, and then be still. Walk again, be still again. Internalize all these wondrous items of unique beauty that abound - items to which we have given names, and items which we try to describe in superlative terms, but which, honestly, are beyond any description that we can dream up. Slow your breathing to the rhythm of the breeze, let your eyes glaze over, and begin to blend in and become a part of something beyond yourself.


I know a place has left its mark on me when I find myself not wanting to leave, and after I have left, I continue to think about when I might revisit it. Cranberry, we shall meet again.

Curious people are my favorite

For those of you who haven't been paying attention, I'm currently in West Virginia at the New River Birding and Nature Festival, a week long festival of blissful birding, botanizing and other enjoyments of nature, ecology and natural history.

There are many, many great aspects to this festival, one of which is that we all have one thing in common: a curiosity for the natural world. It might be just birds, or birds and plants, or birds and plant and moths... no matter what the subject matter is, everyone is here to learn something and see something new, and to experience nature in all her glory.

Since I am naturally very curious myself, it makes sense that I like to hang out with other folks who are curious, too. When the curiosity is over a shared interest, then we understand perfectly why a group of people would choose to stand around and look up in the trees for a long, long time in search of a bird.

But for all the time we spend looking up in the trees for birds, we spend almost an equal amount of time looking at the ground for any number of things. Insects. Plants.

Nina photographing cinnamon fern fiddleheads.
Poop Scat.

Geoff Heeter photographs Jim McCormac photographing bear scat.
Not only do we look at poop scat (we need to be adult and professional about this, right?), we get EXCITED about it. This was a big fresh black bear pie. Our field experts estimated it was a few days old, and it was mostly comprised of leafy green vegetation. It didn't take long for the serious investigation to begin. You will notice in the photo above that the fellow in the top left corner is coming at the pile with a stick. It was by prodding into the pile that we could get an idea of what the bear had been eating.

Of course, when you have a find this good, you have to share it with everyone!


Our intrepid scat sniffer and co-trip leader for the day, Rudy Gelis. If you ever want to go birding in Ecuador, Rudy's your man.

So, yeah... curious folk are cool. So is this festival. I'll tell you all the other reasons why in the coming week.

With, not apart from

I was on a mission. There was a flower I had seen the previous evening that I had never seen before, and I wanted to get a picture of it. I grabbed my camera and my binoculars, put on my boots, and off I went to get my pictures. I walked deliberately through the field and into the woods. I had a destination in mind, but I wasn't absolutely sure where the flowers were, so I would have to pay close attention. I was very much aware of myself, of my camera, of my footsteps, of my destination. There was separation between myself and my surroundings.

Ground Ivy (or Gill-over-the-Ground) - Glechoma hederacea
I tried to walk softly and quietly, because I wanted to be able to hear the birds. They were quiet at first. I did, however, hear the creek running - a soothing sound. A sound to help me slow down. I stepped on ground ivy and a wave of minty odor wafted up to my nose. I stopped to bend down and inhale it more deeply. The evening sun was starting to fade, so I had to keep moving, but my pace lessened. Stop. Look. Listen. Smell. Keep moving, but keep noticing. Be open, aware, and receptive. I began to meld into the landscape. I was soon rewarded for my noticing. No, I hadn't found the flower I was seeking, but instead I happened upon the business of creation.

Snowberry Clearwing moths, mating - Hemaris diffinis
My first reaction was one of awe and immense gratitude. How lucky was I to come across this scene? This is, after all, not something you see every day: a pair of insects mating. I felt blessed to be able to observe them in this amazing but fragile state. Then there was the work of documenting what I saw. Thank goodness I had my camera with me! As I took photos, my brain started to process what I was seeing, wanting to put a name to it. What I thought at first to be bumble bees were, upon closer inspection, most definitely moths. But which species? With no field guide at hand, I knew I would have to research it later, so I let it go for the time being. After taking a few more photos, I gave them their privacy.

white deadnettle and purple deadnettle - Lamium album and Lamium purpureum
A quick meander away from the moths I found the flowers I was looking for: white deadnettle. It was mixed in among stands of purple deadnettle and readily stood out. Even though I was using my camera to get close to this flower, I did not especially take note of this tool in my hands. By this time, 20 or so minutes into my walk in the woods, I had become my senses. Even though I was aware that I was this person, sitting in the woods taking pictures of flowers and moths, there was also a feeling of belonging with everything around me. I felt that I was with, not apart from, the landscape that I was in. I was invited to have a seat and continue with this feeling. So I sat - I listened to the birds, watched the bumble bees and let my senses take over. I allowed myself to just be for a bit.

I've said it before, and I will say it again: we should allow ourselves to do this more often. I know I should, at least. To take time to get away from politics and money and our goods and possessions and just blend into the world around us. To be one with it. It is uplifting and refreshing. I am very fortunate to have woods and fields nearby and at my disposal whenever I feel like stepping into them. I acknowledge that not everyone has this luxury. Even if it's just a small patch of yard, a local park, a playground, a bike path, a lake - find a place that resonates with you, go there as often as you are able, and drink it in. And let it drink you in, too.


Dutchman's breeches (Dicentra cucullaria) and white trillium (Trillium grandiflorum)
After finding the white deadnettle and realizing I still had plenty of sunlight left for a leisurely return trip, I took my time the rest of the way. I stopped to cross the creek and look at the white trillium growing on the steep hillsides. I found, with effort, the Dutchman's breeches that had obviously been in peak bloom when I had seem them the day before. As dusk began settling in, the birds became more vocal, and I heard for the first time this spring a Wood Thrush singing. This beautiful song holds a very special place in my heart, and it always stops me in my tracks the first time I hear it each spring. If someone had come across me at that moment, they might not have guessed that I was listening to a bird sing. My hands were raised to my lips in a prayerful gesture, I was smiling and there were tears in my eyes. All my attention was focused on the ethereal notes of that thrush, an angelic voice to be sure. It was pure bliss.

As I emerged from the woods and onto the road, there was a spring in my step and not a cloud in my heart. I was at peace. I look forward to returning to that state again soon.

Watery world

When I make a blog post, it has to fill one of two purposes for me: it either has to be educational, or creative. When I'm lucky, it's both. Once in a while I struggle to make it either! When I take pictures, I try to sometimes try to compose a narrative to go with it. And sometimes, there just aren't adequate words to improve upon what the images say for themselves. I took some photos a few weeks ago after we had had some heavy rains. The local creek was running hard, and the color of the water was dreamy, and the mud told stories, and I felt like I was in another world. That's about all I can say.

Fields of gold

The frantic pace of working on the guestudio has finally slowed down. We have had our first official guests stay with us, and since their departure, we haven't felt the need to push so hard to get on with the finishing touches. Several weeks ago, though, we were still working hard on the place during our off-hours from work. One beautiful Sunday I decided I HAD to take time off and go enjoy the beautiful weather we were having. I needed to be alone with the wind and the sun and the crickets and the birds, to recharge my batteries.

I took my camera along with me, of course, and took lots of pictures of the beautiful golden grasses, but I also spent a lot of time just sitting. Absorbing. Appreciating. Admiring. Amazed.

There was a delightful breeze, and as I sat in the sunny field, I noticed the hundreds of cobwebs that were streaming to and fro among the seed heads of the grass. Not those big round-and-round shaped-webs you normally think of, but simple strands. The grasses, upon close inspection, were all encased in the delicate streamers, some of them even tied together by the webs.

I crawled around among the grasses, and spent long minutes on my belly taking photos at all different angles. My nose picked up hints of clover, and even though the grass had not been cut for many weeks, it smelled fresh despite its age.

While the notion of sitting alone - just sitting and being - in a field (or in the woods, or on the water) for any amount of time would seem strange to some, it is an activity that I relish, and I wish I could do it all day. The longer I sit, the calmer I feel, and the more connected I feel, both to the earth and to myself.

Sitting is a passive activity, but even though my body is not doing much, my mind is quietly churning and digesting. Depending on what I am contemplating, I might even consider it to be a form of play. I do, after all, consider it to be "fun" when I am doing it in this capacity. It's a type of fun I would encourage everyone to engage in.

A reminder to connect

You would think I would know it by now.

Know it, remember it, and practice it every day, no matter what. But it fades from my mind quickly, which is kind of a shame.

I should know by now that connecting with the earth is the thing that sets my mind right. After a stressful day at work (or, conversely, a less than stimulating day on the job), coming home and just walking around the property, slowly and deliberately, with my focus on the trees, the ground, the sky, the birds - it is enough to bring me up from wherever else I have been during the day. To bring me up to clearing thinking, calmer being. I do know this, but something about today's time outside made it really =click= in my head.

Today I came home and walked a simple loop through the woods and down the driveway, stopping to notice ice cycles clinging to moss, to ponder at the distribution of the trees, to check in with our ailing rhododendron, to examine some arboreal damage, to survey the lackluster leaves of the mullein plants. I heard the calls of 3 distinct Barred Owls, hooting back and forth. Mating season should be under way soon. I talked to that rhododendron, touched its leaves, looked for signs that it might actually make it through to bloom this spring (the odds are not good, unfortunately), and then I gave it some love vibes and blew it a kiss - maybe that will help it. I picked up a piece of Aspen bark that was left behind from the tree top that came down, appreciating the beauty of its color and texture - no artist's palette could be more perfect.


All of this took 10 minutes or less. Such simple actions, such little time - but the benefits were immeasurable. I came into the house feeling renewed, no longer feeling drained from the day. No dragging my feet about getting the woodstove going, making some dinner for myself, doing the dishes, preparing tomorrow's lunch. And would you look at that - I'm actually inspired to make a blog post for the first time in many weeks.

So I have to make a commitment to myself to truly spend more time outside, connecting. I know it will be easier come spring - as things come alive, the outdoors become so much more inviting! While the weather is cold and crappy, though, I know this will be harder to do, and so it will be that much more important to make the effort. I encourage you to give it a try too, if you're not already. I wish us luck!

Listening to the trees

While learing about the masting process in trees, I got to thinking about one of the multiple hypotheses that I came across regarding the "why" of masting: that the trees need time to regenerate in between bouts of highly abundant fruit/nut production. It's almost as if the trees are saying "We can't be "on" all the time... we need a little down time."

Time to recharge, and time to grow. Think of it as "me" time for the trees.

Similarly, we need times like this in human terms. Time to ourselves, time to recharge our batteries, time to tend to personal growth. There are times to rest, and times to flourish. We cannot expect to give continuously of ourselves without wearing thin, wearing out. The trees know it - why don't we?

We've heard all this before... from self-help books, from Oprah and Dr. Phil, from therapists. But maybe we would be better off to let nature teach it to us. To observe her cycles and rhythms, and to learn how to honor them and incorporate them into our own lives.

"When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe." -John Muir

Is nature drawing this turtle out of her shell?

During the summer I shared some facts about myself (see all 7 random things about moi), one item which surprised some of you: I am an introvert. In addition to that, I can be quite shy, especially around people I don't know. So I surprised myself a few years ago when I attended a weekend-long overnight camp for grown-ups known as Becoming an Outdoors Woman (BOW for short). I had been aware of the existence of such activities for a few years prior to that, but I had to really work up my courage to sign up for and actually attend this event. There would be lots of ladies there I didn't know. We would have to share sleeping quarters. I would be there by myself, with no "buddy" to lean on. =gulp!=

The driving reason that got me out the door and to the event was being close to nature, and perhaps more importantly, learning new things about nature (and about myself). And you know what? This introvert survived, and had a lot of fun in the process. So much so that I attended a similar event the following year (this one hosted by the National Wild Turkey Federation). More fun and learning ensued. Another great benefit: an increased sense of self-confidence and independence. I've never found myself to necessarily be lacking in these two areas, but I have found that I am stronger than I had first thought. And both events were held in great outdoors locations, which made me feel quite at home.



Ladies gathering prizes after skits at the BOW event in September 2006.


Some ladies refining their canoeing skills at the Women in the Outdoors (WITO) event in September 2007.

This time last year I was still reeling from my first visit to the Wilds, where I attended their first-ever Photography Camp (a program that was so successful that they offered it on 2 separate weekends this year!). It was an incredible experience on many levels. Due to the nature of the program, we got a slightly closer look at the animals than one might on a normal "public" excursion at the Wilds. We got to spend more time with the animals than I think is the norm, and the buses stopped whenever we asked them to (photo ops are unpredictable with wild animals, you know). I was truly moved by the majesty and beauty of all the different animals we got to experience and photograph. On top of that, I learned quite a few things about photography. Nothing earth-shattering, I will admit, but enough to make me more comfortable with my camera and to give me more "shooting" confidence in general. Oh, and I was around more people I didn't know. But by this point, I didn't care. I didn't have to think twice about signing up for this camp. I had finally gotten the "being with strangers" jitters out of my system. Thank goodness!


Herd of bison ambling along in front of our bus at the Wilds, September 2008.

Close encounter with a bison. (Julie, if you're reading, these pictures are for you.)
In an effort to continue my outdoors education, I attended the Birding by Ear camp at the Wilds in May of this year. Yet again it was information and sensory overload, but in the best way. We were a MUCH smaller group at this camp (10 plus the group leaders), so it was harder for me to keep to myself as I have learned I can do in larger groups, but that was okay. We were all there for a common purpose, so that made it a little more comfortable.

Our group of like-minded birders, trying to find who is singing in the trees (the Wilds, May 2009).
There was a new element to this outing though - I would be meeting a fellow nature/bird blogger for the very first time (Jim McCormac was one of our group leaders for the weekend). So, in a very small sense, there was someone there I knew, albeit it only via the miracles of the interwebs. Jim (and Al Parker, our other group leader) made sure we all left there entertained and with lots of facts in our brains.

My most recent nature-loving/nature-learning experience, as you may have guessed, was the Midwest Birding Symposium held up at Lakeside, OH several weeks ago. This is the first time Dave has accompanied me on one of these trips, and I was delighted that he had such a good time. There was so much to see, and more bloggers to meet, and lots of really nice birding folks to be around.

A packed house in Hoover Auditorium at the 2009 Midwest Birding Symposium.

So to answer the question posed via the title of this post, I guess nature is slowly pulling me out of my shell. It is the common theme for all of these outings, and I have been so glad that I attended each and every one of them. Who knows where my love and nature and pursuit of knowledge will take me next!

What has your own love of nature inspired YOU to do that you might not have thought possible?

Nature: it's what the doctor ordered

I recently came across 2 separate links to the same article about a University of Michigan study that shows that nature is good for you! Not much of a surpise, right?

"University of Michigan psychology research in the December issue of
Psychological Science explored the cognitive benefits of interacting with nature
and found that walking in a park in any season, or even viewing pictures of
nature, can help improve memory and attention."

I will direct you to the full article, and a great related article, in a moment. But first I will share some soothing nature pictures that may benefit you cognitively...

Read the full article here. And a related, slightly more detailed article here.

Credit to Wren and the ODNR's WildOhio eNewsletter for leading me to this article.