Crow and cawing
Tag: Nature
Moose on the loose
This was going to be about squirrels, my nemesis in Dover, but now I’m thinking of Bullwinkle and his kin.
After all, I am living on Moose Island, not that I’ve seen any in town yet. But then I’m not seeing many squirrels here, either. Instead, it’s mostly deer.
Now, for the star of today’s show.
- Moose are the biggest member of the deer family and, unlike the others, prefer to be solitary rather than in herds.
- A bull can weigh in at up to 1,500 pounds, while a cow can be up to 1,000 pounds.
- Their broad, “open-hand” shaped antlers (not horns) can stretch up to six feet end to end.
- Calves stay with their mothers for a year or more but are weaned at five months.
- Their mothers are quite protective and have been known to kill bears with their kicks.
- They’re adept swimmers and can trot at up to 35 miles an hour, despite their slow-moving, sedentary, and dumb image.
- They’re a road hazard. They’re drawn to the pavement for the salt that’s been spread to melt snow and ice. And then they think they can outdo a car or truck, not that they don’t do some serious damage.
- A bull can eat up to 71 pounds of food a day – half of it aquatic plants needed to balance the bark in their diet.
- The fall mating season includes energetic fights between bulls over a desired cow.
- Their hide is often covered with a blanket of thousands of parasitic winter ticks, which stay attached for up to six months, sapping a moose of energy, blood, and hair. They’re the leading cause of death in moose less than a year old and diminish adult cow reproduction.
Crack of dawn
Nesting eagles
Point by point
“I looked out in the yard and seen a magnificent eight-point buck eatin’ apples.”
Wild ones, fallen from the tree between us.
“And the velvet was gone from his antlers, right?”
“Yep.”
With only a flash a few days earlier, I had noticed something different in its bearing. Like being a kid no more but a handsome young prince. One with a shiny sword ever so proudly.
Looking ahead to the year 2050
I’ve been part of a study group that’s been trying to envision a sustainable future for our small corner of the globe.
It’s been an exciting exercise, actually, looking for ways we can enhance what we have in conjunction with neighboring communities.
But it’s also terrifying, when we look more broadly.
Nine billion population, up from one billion when I was born. Can the globe really carry that load? I’m doubtful, but maybe.
Let’s start with increasing urbanization. I was blown away by the fact that 75 percent of Britain is considered urbanized today.
Add to that global warming. The regions where population is booming will be scrambling for food and water. Yes, water becomes essential. As well as ways to earn a livable income.
Now consider the automation of many jobs, something that points toward income readjustment, which is being largely ignored in public discussion.
Get political, and Republicans are in utter denial about all this, something I find deeply troubling. Engage, intelligently, will you? The future of humanity is at stake. Or are you really dinosaurs, just looking only for your next meal?
According to the projections, I’m in a good place to survive this – or at least my descendants are. Yeah, the ocean will be closer to our doorstep, even if we are higher than the downtown we adore. Still, the directions on the charts point to a lot of turbulence ahead, especially desperation and violence.
Here, in these workshops, we’ve been looking at the enhanced value of tourism, seeing our place as a pocket of natural wonder. As much as I love that projection, I doubt things will be that easy.
Will Florida actually be off the map by then, along with all of its reactionary politics? Or maybe those partisans will still be denying global warming would ever happen.
Where do you see the world in just 30 years?
Or even in just six, 2030?
It doesn’t always have to be spectacular
Let me be honest and admit that the most amazing fall foliage I’ve seen was in 1970 in the Susquehanna Valley of New York and neighboring Pennsylvania. I’m not sure how it would stack up today, if I had a way of reviving the actual color, but the experience was unlike any before or since.
I was fresh out of college – free of being cooped up on campus and indoors. I had my own wheels and a job that had me free by midafternoon, when the angular sunlight was kicking in. And the local forests blended the species of New England with those of the middle Appalachians. What I had known before was Ohio and Indiana, without the big foothills that propped the forests up before my eyes like giant canvases or, from the crests, arrayed them below me like vast quilts punctuated with villages and farm fields and meadows.
I suspect another major factor was a killing frost by late September, which would intensify the color and make, officially, Indian summer. With global warming, that frost has been delaying until all of the leaves have fallen.
All the same, living in New England for nearly half of my life now, I recognize how profoundly the autumn change strikes the region. My in-depth reflections and accompanying photos from New Hampshire are found in the archives of my Chicken Farmer blog. Do go there, if you can. The posts and slideshows appear in the New England Spirit category from August through October 2013.
What I’m now encountering is Coastal Downeast Maine, with its own variations. The forest is largely evergreen, which of course stays green. But it does provide a solid background for the deciduous trees as they change.
Having written that, I encounter an early morning drive across stretches where everything is perfect. The foliage is prime, a full range of the palette, nothing holding back. The temperature’s still chill, so maybe they’ve already had that hard frost up here. Better yet, the sunlight’s brilliant buttery and straight-on, rather than overhead, illuminating the leaves from the side facing me.
It reminds me of other “oh, wow!” epiphanies in northern New England that no doubt would equal or even surpass the year further south that set the standard.
So here’s a taste of how it happens around here.
One day, October
1, the hokku
Ripe orange descending
And then the sharp scythe new moon
With her consort, Venus
2, the long version
Orange-fruit globe ascending
Silvery lakes between fog-wisped forests
Many miles intervening
Same orange glop descending
And then the sharp scythe new moon
With her consort, Venus
Anticipating the fall foliage
It’s a common topic of conversation this time of year in New England.
How’s the foliage shaping up?
Are drought or wetness, heat or cold, or any number of other factors impacting it negatively?
Or is it going to be another banner month across the six-state region?
Vermont and New Hampshire tourism tries to capitalize the most from the colorful outburst, but they’re hardly alone in sometimes dazzling displays. New York and Pennsylvania can also be memorable.
So here we are, trying to make the most of the outdoors before winter cold sets in all too soon.
What’s it like where you are?
Urchins on a blue bench
Jnana's Red Barn 