Monday, December 31, 2012

Winter jaunts

Ahh, winter break.  I've managed to take some time off from lounging on the couch (in an attempt to ignore this mysterious headache that's been torturing me for days by watching old movies on cable) and get my caboose out the door.  The fresh air has helped a little.  Then I go back inside and hunker miserably under a down throw and whimper a little.  Most of the time, I feel I would be a scrappy, survivalist fighter when the inevitable zombie apocalypse or devastating plague arrives.  In this current funk, I'm pretty sure I'd get my sissy, myopic ass beaten to a pulp and the brains sucked out of my skull.

 The first trip was the day after school got out--my field trip to the North Branch solstice bonfire.  Sixteen of my best and brightest came out on a Saturday morning on winter break, without receiving any reward of extra credit or service-learning hours, to hang out with their teacher in the woods on a cold day.  Kids these days--they're not all lazy bums.  We hiked around Somme Prairie Grove for a couple of hours, then headed over to Somme Woods for the bonfire.  It's delightfully pagan, what with the bagpiper and drummer and flutes and all.




 

I also shot some videos, with the club's little flip-cam purchased with Climate Cycle funds.  I am not an accomplished cinematographer, as evidenced by the vomit-inducing video I captured of the bagpipe procession from the parking lot to the woodpile.  Not a good idea to videotape while walking a rugged woodland path, it turns out.  Instead, I will treat you with a short clip of the bonfire in full flame:


Next trip:  Christmas Bird Count at Gensburg-Markham Prairie (not on actual Christmas, but 12/29).  I have always wanted to do a CBC, but never quite got around to it, due to sheer laziness and lack of confidence in my birding skills.  This year, despite the snow showers, I decided to sack up and go, figuring I could just keep notes for the experienced birders and absorb some expertise from them, like a leech.  The bird show was, well, underwhelming.  I was easily able to ID the few species we saw, and actually was the first one in the group to pin down the ID of a flock of sparrows...American tree sparrows.  Other than that, there were a couple of flocks of Canada geese flying overhead, a pair of red-tails, a few crows, and a ring-billed gull.  Yawn.  The joint was eerily silent in the snow, except for the distant roar of traffic from I-294.  Beautiful lighting for photos, however.  It was a damned shame my fingers were so cold and I brought my small camera whose settings I still haven't bothered to figure out.  Despite this, I got some good shots of cream false indigo in its subtle winter colors, and a neat shot of the burned vs. unburned side of the firebreak:




Last outing:  workday at Bunker Hill yesterday, 12/30.  This was my and Rebecca's first stint as apprentice stewards.  It went acceptably well.  There was some grumbling, bumbling, and passive-aggressive jabs from the volunteers at the outstart, since we did not plan to burn brush piles and it was rather nippy at 9am.  The reason for this is that Bunker Hill is in the confrontational zone, where the anti-restorationists have their last meager foothold.  The special rule for this zone is that any brush piles have to be out cold--not just flame-free, glowing embers as at the other sites, but cold enough to sit on--before you leave.  This means either sticking around until sunset to let the coals burn out, or putting the fire out with snow or river water (which is undesirable in that it leaves permanent piles of charcoal that will stick around for decades, as opposed to piles of fluffy ash that dissipate in the wind).  I didn't want to leave a legacy of charcoal at my new site, so we opted instead to drag all the brush to the bike path and leave it for the district to put in the chipper.  This warmed everyone up pretty quickly, so things were friendlier after the first half hour.  We only had visits from 3 of the antis, who stood out on the bike path and accosted walkers and joggers with their misinformation campaign, but kept rather quiet relative to the noisy, offensive protests of their heyday.  Since I was busy keeping the show running, I just got a couple of post-mayhem shots...the little oak grove we cleared the buckthorn and ash saplings out of, and one of the impressive piles of brush waiting to be chipped:



May the new year bring more and better opportunities for nature-gazing...including my upcoming Lincoln's bday trip to Florida, spring break to see the sandhills in Nebraska and backpack in national parks farther west, and--dare I jinx myself?--possibly Thailand and/or Central America this summer?  I wipe my hands of you, 2012, and good riddance!

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Pop quiz--Bark!

I've been saving this entry up for a slump, to break the monotony of a long period of not being able to get outdoors.  Well, I did actually get out last Saturday, for our annual post-Thanksgiving workday, but I was too busy with the merry slaughter of buckthorn with my mighty chainsaw to take any photos or deeply contemplate the beauty of nature.  How I love thee, dear chainsaw (even though, after long stretches of time without you, you make my core muscles scream like I've been hit by a freight train)!  It was a great workday, with a small group of turkey-fattened troopers, ending with roasted apples and potatoes over the coals of a raging brush pile.  I learned an important lesson that day, as well--avoid coring an apple with a paring knife while said apple is held in your other hand.  I sliced all the way through the first layer of skin of my left hand, all the way down to the meat.  It looks like I have one half of a pair of stigmata.  The skin has healed nicely, but I have some nerve damage; I have pain shooting up my ring finger every time I brush the wound ever so slightly.  I am a fool.

Back on track--during my epic cage match trip in October, I took a bunch of photos of tree bark.  Since the winter was coming round (and by this point, is already here), I was testing my skills at identifying trees solely by their bark.  This is a handy skill to have.  This became even more apparent on the AP field trips (also back in October), when my kids were struggling mightily with tree ID.  Even when they could reach the branches and see the leaves and their arrangement up close, they still had trouble distinguishing them by drawings.  When the leaves were out of reach, they were hopeless.  I finally started showing them the tricks of tree bark...the burnt potato chip trick, the ski slopes trick, etc.  This was infinitely more successful.  So here is a representative sample of northern Illinois trees...can YOU identify them by their bark? (Answers at bottom)

 1a.  Sapling with smoothish, nondescript bark.  This one always stumps me.  It doesn't look like anything.

 1b.  Same species, older tree.  The bark gets a little rougher, but still not any interesting pattern.  Those yellow-bellied sapsucker holes, on the other hand...very telling.

 2.  Long, peely strips of bark are a dead giveaway for this one.

3a.  Anyone paying attention to earlier entries will get this one.  This one mystified me, because the leaves were so far overhead, until I saw some saplings nearby...

 3b.  A-ha.  This one has the characteristic warty bark I'm used to seeing in smaller trees lining city streets.  They just don't get that big in captivity.

 4.  Diamond-shaped bark pattern, if you have an active imagination

 5.  Oooo.  This tree is unusual around here.  Perhaps reminiscent of its cousin, #4?

 6.  Rough and stringy-looking bark, with a hint of orange color.  Okay, so maybe this is not so representative of northern Illinois trees.

 7.  Striiiiiiated, like cat scratches.  (That would be a hint as to its scientific name, and how I first learned to remember it)

 8.  Burnt potato chips!

 9.  A harmless fungus makes the lower bark of this tree fall off in patches, or so they say.

 10.  Thick, corky bark helps protect this species from prairie fires.  (The National Arbor Day sent me a survey about trees in the mail today, in a thinly veiled attempt to get me to make a donation.  They asked whether I thought the white oak was an appropriate choice for the state tree of Illinois [no, I don't].  Had they given me space to write a rebuke, I would have said that THIS tree should be our state tree, and those airhead elementary schoolchildren should never have been allowed to make such an important decision.  But they didn't, so I didn't send in the survey. [Northern cardinal, state bird?  Bluegill, state fish?  What are these kids smoking?])

 11.  Near the top of the trunk, this tree has long, smooth, lighter-colored strips of bark running down its length, reminiscent of ski slopes.

 12.  Smooth, straight trunks with thin, indented cracks.  Often multi-trunked.  

 13.  A rough patchwork of multi-colored bricks--grays, creams, reds, black, and usually with a smattering of moss or lichen to green it up.

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The answers! They're in alphabetical order by scientific name, because that's how my computer arranged them.  Hope that didn't make it too easy!

1.  Sugar maple (Acer saccharum)
2.  Shagbark hickory (Carya ovata)
3.  Hackberry (Celtis occidentalis)
4.  Green ash (Fraxinus pensylvanicus)
5.  Blue ash (Fraxinus quadrangulata)
6.  Osage orange (Maclura pomifera)
7.  Ironwood (Ostrya virginiana)
8.  Black cherry (Prunus serotina)
9.  White oak (Quercus alba)
10.  Bur oak (Quercus macrocarpa)
11.  Red oak (Quercus rubra)
12.  American basswood (Tilia americana)
13.  American elm (Ulmus americana)