Winter Reflection

Winter is a natural time to reflect about life, nature and change of the seasons along the trails here at Wehr. The following comments, taken from my nature journal, center around one small tree, a wild plum, which has become a personal landmark over the years. The entries range from 1991 to 2007.
 
One of my earliest memories about the lake trail here at Wehr is a winter walk in 1991 with a friend and colleague, Jan Tyler. It had just started snowing tiny round crystals from a gray overcast sky as we headed to the waterfall. There perched very low in the tree line facing the lake, we spotted a beautiful adult male goshawk. He sat a long time so we could see dark feathers on his head, bright yellow legs, very white feathers under his tail, and red eyes. It’s an uncommon visitor in the winter in southeastern Wisconsin. Jan and I enjoyed our walk that day.
 
The wild plum has been a landmark to visit and see animal homes up close because it is a small fruit tree reaching about 25 feet. A year after the goshawk sighting I noticed a mourning dove nest just 15 feet up in among the trunks of the wild plum. The nest was a frail platform of sticks, not in use anymore. It seemed an unusual place for a dove to nest. It was the end of November when I noticed another type of nest in the top of the wild plum. It was the leafy nest or drey of the gray squirrel. There was another drey in the adjacent ash tree that was reaching higher than the plum though no squirrels were near that day. In the warmer part of the following year, there was a dainty nest, woven below a horizontal branch and lined with thin round grass sections. The nest book pointed us to the vireo, and I don’t mind if it is red-eyed vireo or a warbling vireo. I am glad both of these birds are here.
 
 26 Nov 92
  
 Wehr NC, lake trail. 39 degrees, clear. Found a new magic spot, watching spot in the rays of the sun… haven’t been out for all NOV. The mosses are standing out again; I see my breath as I sit here, my back against a tree. The magic still works. In less than 10 minutes, I spotted a napping squirrel sitting on a branch, facing east into the sun, head down, curled paws, and his tail clinging along his back. “Keep your balance,” I thought. Rust on the flanks, just a spot of white on the belly. Five minutes more brought the chatter of chickadees moving through the winter woods. Squirrel was just settling in. He opened his eyes, moved and then sunk back into his sleeping repose. I see movement below on the trunk, a female downy woodpecker silently grazing for grubs, moving at a brisk pace. The squirrel opened an eye but didn’t move as downy approached. Downy moved quickly past so as not to disturb squirrel. Ten minutes later squirrel is tightly asleep, head tucked under, his nose touching his toes. I noticed smells on the way here, musky and pungent mixed with moist soil, leaves and water, good earth. I listen to the rattle of dry leaves that drowned out people sounds. Time to go but I know I will come to this watching spot again.
  
A few years later, the wild plum was home to a paper nest of the bald-faced hornet. These insects went about their business of carving small pieces of wood from the split rail fence that marks off the fen on the shore of Mallard Lake. The nest was high enough to not alarm passers-by and let the hornets do their job of weathering wood and taking numerous caterpillars, often pests, to the nest for larval food. The same season, there was room in the many branches for a robin nest. With its sturdy mud layer, the nest weathered most of the winter long after the robin had flown south. 
 
 9 0CT 96
 Huge flock of starlings and other blackbirds flew over Tuesday as we listen to the loud chatter of migrating birds. I stopped near the wild plum and lifted a loose piece of bark and found a mourning cloak butterfly clinging to the bark, looking snug in its winter home. The leaf litter, another location it could have chosen, does not look thick but thin. This butterfly is hibernating and will fly again on an early warm day in 1997.
 
 6 Oct 98
 I stand at the five trunk wild plum listening to “pip pip” of the female cardinal. She once nested in this tree. With 100% humidity I hear the twitter of grasshoppers. The color change is starting, don’t want to miss it. Walking with my daughter, Anne, we spoke of the coming year. WOW, 2000, it won’t be long now.
 
During 2003 and 2004, I traveled the lake trail after hours at different seasons. As early as mid June, many fireflies can be spotted in the grass along this trail. Once I even found the glow of the firefly larvae right on the ground among the nearby grasses. In September I heard the snowy tree cricket in the wild plum. I noticed the wild plum has 2 – 3 inch slits with holes on the half inch diameter twigs. I recognized that these slits are made by tree crickets laying eggs just under the bark.
 
A year ago in 2007, there was no evidence of a nest in the wild plum, now a mature tree. Plums trees are old after 25 years and this tree is showing its age. Multiple trunks and dead branches crowd the lower levels. In 2008 the beaver found this area and trimmed a couple of trees just feet from the wild plum. I hope the beaver leaves my special wild plum alone and yet I know nature renews itself with young trees.
 
The trail overlooking Mallard Lake is a comfortable place to stop and reflect on the day, the year, or even a decade. The trails, trees, and plants are good landmarks for a memory hike and it’s one of my favorite trails. I continue to make discoveries along it today. I encourage everyone to keep a nature journal to note and record personal and special moments of nature watching.
 
Pat Fojut, Nature in the Parks