Grounded

It's interesting how a word can have different meanings depending on your vantage point. Take the word "ground" for example. "Ground" (noun) can be many things--it's the surface of the earth; soil; land designated for a specific purpose, e.g. burial grounds or parade grounds; the land around a building; you can hold your ground; grounds are a foundation for something; background; underlying condition--grounds for dismissal; a subject; sediment, such as coffee grounds; we ground wires to limit buildup of static electricity. Almost every sense of "ground" (noun) is positive, basic, foundational. Earthy. Healthy. Connected to the Good Earth.

"Grounded" can be used as an adjective. An internet search gives us this: [more grounded; less grounded] -- used to describe a person who is sensible and has a good understanding of what is really important in life. Sensible and down-to-earth; having one's feet on the ground. "She's trying to stay grounded despite all the fame and praise. She and her husband have a very grounded family." It's good to be "grounded" (adjective). I like to consider myself this way. I try to choose my path carefully, avoiding (when possible) the material things, the petty and plastic things. I'm not always successful, but this is my goal. I pride myself on being close to the earth and connected to nature. I like being "grounded" (adjective).

One could also be "well-grounded" (also adjective). Merriam-Webster says: [more well-grounded; most well-grounded] 1: having good training in a subject or activity. "She is well-grounded in Botany and Lepidoptery." I wouldn't mind being well-grounded in any number of subjects or activities that I love. Photography, birds, travel, literature, gourmet food, Florida History, wildlife ecology, music, art...I could go on.

"Ground" can also be used as a (verb) [+ obj]. You "ground" something. Bring it back to the earth. Back to reality. Sometimes punitively.  You can "ground" your theories on solid fact.  You can "ground" a kayak on a sandbar, or "ground" an airplane because there is some danger, such as lightning storms in the area. You "ground" an electric wire for safety. Or in baseball, "ground" the ball right to the shortstop. Or "ground" the football to avoid a tackle. It's curious that "grounding" (verb) a child is a form of punishment. I say curious, because it should be a good thing to help children connect with the earth. Children who spend time in nature (closer to the ground, closer to the earth) do better in school and are happier and more "grounded" (adjective). But for a child, being "grounded" (verb) is torture. Especially for teenagers, who probably need help being "grounded" (adjective) more than anyone.

This week, I find myself "grounded" (verb) in the airplane safety sense. I've been forced to stay indoors for a while to avoid annoying and irritating allergens, aggravated by summer heat and humidity, and it's driving me crazy. In my mind, I am "grounded"(verb) in the punitive sense. I really want to go out to collect more bird sightings for my June Challenge bird list, or check out the summer flowers and bugs in my favorite ditch. But I will regret it if I do. So if I can just change my point of view, I might instead be happy to use the time indoors to work on my home "grounds" (noun). Or I could work on becoming more "well-grounded" (adjective) in one of the many subjects and activities I want to work on. I'm trying to stay "grounded" (adjective), to be sensible, with a good understanding of what's important in life. I should appreciate the opportunity to read, clean, cook and organize. But I can't wait to get my feet back out on the "ground" (noun). Sigh.

Grounded

The Power of Names

I recently returned from a trip back to my hometown of Salt Lake City. When I first made my plans, I thought I'd be able to fit in much more exploring than I actually had time for. I was hoping to take a trip to the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge on the north end of the Great Salt Lake, and maybe also fit in a trip to Antelope Island in the middle of the lake. But I was there on family business, and as it turned out, there was little time for exploring. Still, I managed to squeeze in a few nice walks and photo sessions and that took care of some of my yearnings. I took my journeys at points in the week when I really needed a break or relief from stress, and they really helped. I came home to Florida feeling like I'd reconnected a little bit with my birthplace, which felt nice.

California Gull--State Bird. I knew this one. (And I know people make fun of Utah for having a California Gull as its state bird, but there's a whole story behind it. Read here and you will understand.)

I found it interesting that although I was returning home, when it came to the specifics of birds and plants and butterflies in Salt Lake, I felt as much a tourist as I ever did in South America. I had to look up almost everything I saw. The Utah mountains, landscape and smells felt so familiar, but I was looking with a different degree of attentiveness than I ever had when I lived there. As a child, I knew Robins and Seagulls, but had no awareness of other birds. They were dots in the sky--sparrows, every one. As for flowers, I knew the yard plants--roses, tulips and lilacs, and also Sego Lilies, the Utah State Flower that I learned about in elementary school, but have still never actually seen. I caught Mourning Cloak and Tiger Swallowtail butterflies and pinned them to a styrofoam cooler lid after killing them in a jar with a turpentine soaked rag, but had never seen a chrysalis. I knew Black Widow spiders because they lived in our basement, and the Box Elder Bugs because of their yearly infestation of the tree outside my bedroom window, but for the most part, I didn't pay attention to the details or the names of things around me. I don't know why--maybe it was that they were all too familiar, or maybe I just didn't know how interesting they were.

Magpies were so common when I was growing up. I miss them here in Florida. 

California Quail run through yards and streets, often with their chicks following in a row

I moved away from Utah when I was 19, and only started really being interested in knowing plants and animals a few years later when my husband and I moved to the mountains outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico. We built a tiny cabin in the woods (maybe I'll write about that some day...) and we had much of the forest to ourselves. On our walks I found marvelous red, tubular flowers that I later identified with a field guide from the library as Scarlet Penstemon. Soon I identified the Blue Lupine and hot orange Indian Paintbrush that lit up the stark red dirt landscape, and I learned that you could smell the vanilla scent of Ponderosa Pine a lot better if you hugged the trees tight. Knowing what to call things made me feel like an insider, like they were part of my sphere. When I knew their names, I knew them. My introduction to naming the birds and other animals came several years later while camping in the Olympic Peninsula with family friends who pointed out the Cormorants, Murres and Porpoises. The same friend told us, when we were living in Wisconsin and struggling to identify the large hawk hopping around on our lawn gobbling earthworms, that if it had a red tail, it was a Red-Tailed Hawk. "But it has fluffy legs!" we complained. "Does it have a red tail?" he asked. "Yes." "Then it's a Red-Tailed Hawk." It seemed so easy for him. He knew the names.

Baby Robin gets a meal

I didn't even know there were Monarch Butterflies in Salt Lake when I was a kid.

Or Squirrels. How could I have missed squirrels?

Some Kind of Cottontail Rabbit 

Then we came to Florida 16 years ago, and this place was so unlike any other place we'd lived in. I was determined to learn as much as I could about our new home because it was all new to us. First I learned to identify the Azaleas and Live Oaks and other plants in the yard, and those were quickly followed by Palmetto Bugs, Banana Spiders and Black Racer snakes. Then the wildflowers caught my eye, and the butterflies that sat on them, nectaring, came next. As I learned the names of the plants and animals in our new home, the more observant I became. I learned their habits. It was as if I had new eyes that looked for the details that would help me get to know them better. I quickly came to appreciate and love the beauty of Florida. Later on I learned that there were names, and then there were names. This was when I was introduced to the power of the scientific names for organisms. I have given up learning the latin when it comes to animals, but with plants, I am a willing student of the botanical names because the names tell me about their lineage. Not only can I know who they are, but I can also know the clans that they come from. It all starts to make sense!

Showy Milkweed (Asclepias speciosa)

But the more I know, the more I know I don't know. I'm on a first name basis with many of the natural inhabitants of my city and county. The ones I don't know, I can usually figure out after a while with some detective work because they look familiar. (And also, I have a ton of my own field guides now.) But when I venture away from home, I get lost. I don't know the names, or even their families. Things look familiar, but I'm just not sure how they fit together. And some are not familiar at all and I don't even know where to begin. I feel unsure and tentative, aware that I am in foreign territory. That's how I felt in Salt Lake much of the time this past week, despite growing up there. I didn't know where to look or what to look for. But once I got looking, I saw a lot. And now I have the basic identification tools and know where to start to name what I see. It's a challenge, like a great puzzle. And this makes every trip, whether it's to another county, to another Country, or back to the state where I was born, a great new adventure. When I add a new name to my list, I know that plant or animal and I feel a new connection to that place. That's the power of names.

I knew the American Goldfinch because they come to my yard feeders

The Great Spangled Fritillary looks similar to the Variegated Fritillary in Florida

I know this is a Crescent Butterfly, but I haven't figured out which kind yet

Black Chinned Hummingbird

Black Capped Chickadee

Black Headed Grossbeak

Spotted Towhee (I knew it was a Towhee from its call, but it sounded so strange!)

Lazuli Bunting, male (I gasped when I saw this one. So pretty!)

Lazuli Bunting, female

Thoughts on Stepping in Cat Poo While Walking Along My Garden Path

At the risk of offending friends and neighbors, this is an open letter to all the people out there with "outside cats":

Dear Cat Owner,
Before you judge me as a cat hater, let me assure you that I am not. My husband and I are the loving owners of one cat, two dogs, and numerous fish. Our previous cat just died at age 16 and we cried a lot. We take good care of them and feed them all high quality pet food, buy them cozy pet beds, keep them up to date on vaccinations and flea and heartworm preventatives, and exercise and play with them. When we go out of town, we hire someone to stay at our house and to make sure they are all cared for, but also to keep them company because we don't want them to feel sad. I love pets. I'm sure you also love pets, or you wouldn't have one.

That being said, I'm over you and your laissez-faire cat ownership. Your decision to let your cat roam free is not just your business. It affects the entire neighborhood, and indeed, the ecosystem of our neighborhood and beyond. I have gone to considerable effort to create a wildlife habitat with bird feeders and a pond in my yard and really enjoy the results. But I am so discouraged when several times every day I have to shoo well-fed, collared and ID-tagged cats away from the feeders and the pond. I pick up the feathers of the birds that were eaten by your cat and mourn the chicks in the nests that were eaten during the night. When the chicks fledge, I dread finding little puffs of feathers--leftovers from cat snacks. It's just a matter of time. I watch the brown thrasher that struggles to balance and fly because it is missing its tail feathers--most likely due to a cat. As we walk with our dogs through the neighborhood, we pass house after house after house with sweet and cute cats sitting on the sidewalk, under cars, and stalking birds and squirrels. They are everywhere. Some have homes, others are feral. We have a lot of students living in our neighborhood, and sometimes when they move, they leave their cats behind. Many of the neighborhood cats are not spayed or neutered, either. Our own cat is living proof--he was a stray, 5-week-old kitten that showed up in our yard, crying, hungry, full of worms, covered in fleas and with terrible ringworm. Being a stray is not a good life.

Cats in the Streets

I know what you'll say. You'll argue that it's cruel to cats to keep them locked inside because it's part of their nature to roam and hunt. But you could say the same thing about dogs. How would we feel if there were dogs running in packs, eating cats (and occasional children), pooping in yards and chasing bicycles, just because it was part of their nature to run in packs and be carnivorous? We don't allow it because it's dangerous and annoying, and so it's illegal to let your dogs run loose. We shouldn't allow it of cats, either. Domestic cats are not native to North America. They were brought here by European settlers. They come from outside of the existing ecosystem and have become invasive, exotic killing machines that murder birds and small mammals with such ferocity that it's startling. Recents studies have found that cats kill billions of birds every year and are contributing significantly to the decrease in songbird populations worldwide. If your cat is a pet, you probably feed it well, and yet it still has an instinct to hunt. I know mine would hunt if he could. Most cats that hunt don't need the food--they just want to catch birds and mammals. Cats that live outside do not live as long as indoor cats. In their roaming, they get in fights with other cats, get hit by cars, and are preyed upon by wild animals, dogs, and even bad people. They are more susceptible to disease and can even cause disease to spread to indoor cats when diseases are brought into the house on clothing and shoes. I'd say it's much less cruel to keep your cat in the safety of your house. When I see a dead cat on the road that was hit by a car (a pretty common event, I might add) I feel sorrow and anger at the same time. Unless it was a pet that ran away, it was an entirely preventable death.

Cat in the Park

You'll probably say that you hate to clean litter boxes and don't like them in your house because they smell bad. Well, thanks a lot. I just stepped in your cat's mess in my front yard. I got to clean up after your cat. Luckily I noticed it before I brought it inside and smeared it on the carpets and floor. I hate to clean cat boxes, too, but I know that this is what comes from having a pet. My cat is happy and safe indoors. He wistfully watches the birds through the window blinds as they feed and splash in the birdbath. He wants to be outside. But we don't let him go outside because we know that he will do what cats are born to do--hunt and kill. And we love him too much to risk his being hurt or lost outside.

Dedos in his Bird Watching Spot

I didn't always keep cats inside. I didn't know about the harm they did or the danger they were in. When I was younger we had to get a new cat about every 2-4 years. They died from disease, car accidents and one even fell off of a tall porch. But when I learned the facts and stopped to think about it, it made good sense to keep our cats inside. As I mentioned before, we had our last cat for 16 years. I probably won't change anyone's mind. Most people who let their cats run outside have heard this already. But please do some thinking. PETA says you should keep your cats indoors. ASPCA says you should keep your cats indoors. Vets say you should keep your cats indoors. The Audubon Society says you should keep your cat indoors. KEEP YOUR CATS INDOORS. You're not doing anyone any favors by letting your cats roam free.

Post Script:

Right after I posted this blog, my husband and I took a walk downtown to see a free concert outdoors. As we were walking, I was telling him that I had decided to leave out another aspect to my argument against outdoor cats because it was difficult to articulate. It's more of a personal issue. Basically, when I see cats (or dogs) loose outdoors I always feel concern that they might be lost or homeless and maybe they need my help. (When I was a little kid, cats used to follow me home all the time, probably because I pet them. I was never sure if they were lost or just friendly, and then I  didnt know how to get them back where they belonged. Eventually I learned not to pet cats outside because I didn't want to encourage them to follow me.) As we were walking, a skinny orange cat with a collar and tags stepped out from behind the bushes in a yard and started meowing at us and walking towards us. We walked on and it followed us. Even when we yelled "scat!" and tried to scare it away, it kept following. It crossed two small streets and one larger one with us, following and meowing. Finally we were able to get it to leave us just before we got to the corner of one of the major arteries through town. What if this cat had kept following us and had gotten lost, or worse, if it had gotten hit crossing that busy street? We would have felt horrible. It is not fair to put strangers in the position of being responsible for the safety of your overly friendly pet just because you like to leave it outside. And for some people (like me) it causes a whole lot of anxiety.

The Rosy Fingered Dawn

I'm not a morning person. Never have been. All my life I've been more of a night owl. I did an early morning stint when my kids were in middle school and I had to wake up at 5:30 to get them on the bus by 6:30 and it was very painful. I don't remember much about that time except being tired. Given my druthers, I'd prefer to wake up at 7 and have a leisurely breakfast as I read the paper and listen to the news. But now that I'm starting to hang out with birders, I may have to change. At least for the month of June. I'm participating in the 10th Annual "June Challenge" with members of the Alachua County Audubon Society. Local birders have a friendly competition to spot as many bird species as possible within our county limits in the month of June. You have to actually see the bird for it to count, so if you want to get Owls and Chuck-Wills-Widows, you need to be out when they are. This means mornings. I'm just not good at getting out early, and usually I don't have to. Flowers don't wake up at any particular time. Butterflies are active later in the morning when the sun is shining. 8 or 9 am is usually fine for my purposes. But birds get up early, and if you want to catch the good ones, you need to get out early with them.

This morning my buddy Maralee picked me up at 5:45 (such a good friend!) and we drove to the kickoff event for the June Challenge. We joined about 35 other dedicated souls at 6:15am at Longleaf  Flatwoods Preserve to get a head start on our checklists with a birdwalk guided by the June Challenge organizer, Rex Rowan.

Still Dark

Searching for Sparrows

The bugs weren't bad and we watched the rosy glow of the sunrise peek through the pines. A Chuck-Wills-Widow teased us from the edges of the parking lot, but no one saw it, so it didn't count. As the sun rose higher, dew dripped from the pine needles and the spider webs shimmered white. A layer of mist stretched across the tops of the palmettos.

Dewy Morning

Morning Mist

We called a Bachman's Sparrow and eventually, it answered, to the great delight of the whole group. You've got to love people that gasp and cheer when they see a sparrow fly up and perch on a branch!

Bachman's Sparrow

From the Longleaf Preserve, we headed to the Windsor Boat ramp on the eastern shore of Newnan's Lake, hoping to find Bald Eagles and some Gulls. In the parking lot we were greeted by 3 Wild Turkeys. But we heard a peculiar sound and high-tailed it down to the shore to investigate. It turned out to be at least 3 Limpkins! They make the strangest, most haunting call, and it was a wonderful treat to see them. They've been fairly rare in the county, due to the decline in their main food staple--the Florida Apple Snail. Invasive exotic Island Apple Snails moved in (possibly as releases from fish tanks) and out-competed the native snail. But apparently the Limpkins have adapted and are now feeding on the exotic Island Apple Snail and so we have Limpkins again. We also saw a Bald Eagle and some Laughing Gulls.

Limpkin

Scopes

Then it was off to La Chua Trail at Paynes Prairie. We pulled up in the parking lot at about 9am and already we'd seen so much! The group tried to call in a Yellow Billed Cuckoo and Summer Tanager as we gathered, but they didn't cooperate. Another Cuckoo appeared a little way down the trail and some of the group saw it. I didn't, so I can't count it. I'll have to go back later in the week. I'm a stickler for the rules!

Calling Cuckoos

The sun was shining by then and it was starting to get hot, but we walked the mile down to the viewing platform and back. The butterflies perked up in the sun we saw a lot of Swallowtail action as we walked by the tall Nuttall's Thistles. Highlights of the La Chua Trail trip were the Great White Heron, King Rail and Least Bittern. Oh yeah, and 2 Whooping Cranes. (!).

Great White Heron

King Rail

Nuttall's Thistle (Cirsium nuttallii)

So at the end of the morning, I had 54 birds on my list. A pretty good start for the month. And I had a lovely time in the cool morning air, communing with nature and interesting people. Excellent motivation and reinforcement for waking up early and getting out for the next 29 days. But who's counting?

A Sense of Place

I visited my favorite ditch yesterday and it was as full of life as ever. As we ease into summer, it is hotter and more humid and the afternoon rains have started again. The plant life is changing with the heat. The Skullcaps have finished blooming and now all that remains are the seed pods that give them their common name. The Lady's Tresses Orchids seem to be gone, but I found 2 Grass Pink Orchids, which is a marvel to me because I'd never seen them prior to this year. The carnivorous plants are enjoying the moisture and bugs. The tiny Sundews still cover the ground, although I didn't see any of their flowers. I cannot avoid stepping on them and I feel like a huge monster, leaving destruction in my wake. The Hooded Pitcher Plants were still blooming. One of these days I'll have to remember to look and see if there are any bugs or frogs inside. Pale Meadow Beauties have popped up in the last 2 weeks and there will be other varieties by the end of summer. The grass is pretty with splashes of pink throughout. There are still a few holdout Yellow Colic Root flowers and Oakleaf Fleabane. The Yellow Eyed Grass is blooming, now, and the ground is covered with teeny tiny Eryngium flowers, that I would have probably missed if it hadn't been for the heads up from my friend Bubba. There is an abundance of Blackroot blooming and the butterflies are very attracted to this strange flower with its winged stems. You can smell the strong aroma of Vanilla Leaf as you walk through the Flatwoods. The plants are growing tall and should bloom any day. The Little Metalmark Butterflies were there, as I knew they would be. I can always count on them. Rosettes of the Deertongue plants are growing everywhere on the ground and they should soon be sprouting taller with purple flowers that the swallowtails won't be able to resist. And I'll be watching all summer for signs of big orange Catesby's Lilies and hope that the county mowers won't come by and disrupt the whole scene. I'll have to be realistic and acknowledge that it may still happen, though, whether it's out of concern for fire danger, road visibility, or just force of habit. We'll just hope not.

Skullcap Seed Pods (Scutellaria integrifolia)

Grass Pink Orchid (Calopogon multiflorus)

Tip of My Boot Near the Tiny Sundews (Like Godzilla!)

Hooded Pitcherplant (Sarracenia minor)

Pale Meadow Beauty (Rhexia mariana)

Yellow Eyed Grass (Xyris difformis)

Eryngium baldwinii

Blackroot (Pterocaulon virgatum)

Little Metalmark on Polygala lute

It's great to have a place that you can watch and get to know really well. I have a few of those kinds of places around here in Gainesville, and I try to visit them as often as I can because I can't wait to see what will happen next. I've been visiting them for a while now and have a photo almanac of sorts that I can draw upon to compare year to year. I'd like to keep a journal. When did this flower first sprout last year? Where was I when I saw a certain butterfly? I know when I can see Bluebirds and Nuthatches at Morningside and Cranes and Glossy Ibises at Paynes Prairie, or when I can find hummingbirds at Kanapaha Botanical Gardens, and Poppy Mallow at San Felasco. I love going back over and over again, because they make me feel like I know these places.

Hatpins and Polygala in the Ditch

Every year at Memorial Day, for as far back as I can remember, my grandma would make the trip down to her home town, Moroni, Utah. She called it "Decoration Day" and she would visit relatives and bring flowers to the cemeteries in Mt. Pleasant and Nephi where her family and my grandpa's family were buried. It was an important time for her and when she got older she had my aunt and uncle or cousins take her. Somehow, I never made the trip with her, even though it was only a few hours from Salt Lake, where I grew up. But when she died, I finally did go to the cemetery in Nephi. It was a very moving experience, not just because I was burying my beloved grandmother, but because as I looked around at the headstones, I realized that I knew all the names. I've done a little genealogical work and was very familiar with the names of my grandparents, great-grandparents, and great-great-grandparents. The ancestors born in the harsh environs of pioneer Utah, and their parents and grandparents born in England and Denmark, Scotland and Sweden, who left their families behind, sailed across the ocean and made the arduous trek across the country by wagon train and hand cart to this new land. Here they were, right next to me. And these were actually only part of the family. This was where my grandfather's family was buried. Relatives in my grandma's family were in the cemetery in nearby Mt. Pleasant. My grandma often referred to family in Central Utah as "my people". And that is where she rests, surrounded by her people. My people. As I stood there in the cemetery, I felt this confusing rush of emotions. If these were my people, this must be my place. The names were familiar, and the town was a source of family stories, but it was also unfamiliar to me. I was connected through family but I did not know the place.

I've lived here in Florida, far away from "my people" for going on 17 years, which is getting to be a long time. But no matter how long I've been here, I do not have the ancestral claim to the land that  Florida Natives have. My ancestors came to Utah in the 1850's. My roots go back 5 generations. I don't have that in Florida. I still struggle to mentally place cities and towns because I don't have the geography of Florida in my personal folklore. The family stories we have here are limited to the ones my husband, my daughters and I have made in those 17 years.  But I have made a connection to the nature of Florida. I know that when I need to feel refreshed and rejuvenated, all it takes is a mere whiff of the ocean air. In the summers I crave the cool of the freshwater springs with their deep blues and greens and cypress knees.  When I've been away, returning to the heavy, humid air and buzzing cicadas feels familiar and comforting now. I have become enchanted by the world of Florida's wildflowers, insects, birds and mammals. As I have learned more about them I have also come to appreciate the complexity of their ecosystems, their variety and the changes brought about by seasons, drought, storms and fire. I am getting to know them. Knowing a place makes one feel grounded and connected. You get the inside references. You understand the jokes. You know what's happening. You know what to expect.

We are a nation of nomads who leave our histories and connections behind as we seek new lives--jobs, school, love and adventure. Change is exciting and good, but can also leave you adrift. I imagine that my great-great grandparents experienced this when they left everything they knew behind and started a new life in the desert of central Utah. But they came to that strange land with a purpose--building a religious paradise on earth. Some of them eventually brought their parents and other relatives and settled in. That focus and determination gave them connection. I too have settled in a new place and left behind my ancestral roots. But I have found connection to Florida by learning about its nature, and in the knowing, I feel my own purpose and sense of place.

Southern Hairstreak on Blackroot (Pterocaulon virgatum)

Time for Toads

The summer rainy season has started up again in North Florida. It's hot and muggy outside and the slightest exertion leaves one coated in a sheen of sweat. It takes a little more planning to stay outside for long periods at this time of year (hat, water, sunscreen, bug spray), but I love it anyway. Everything is green and lush and full of life. The birds are noisy and busy feeding their soon to be fledglings and the air is electric with insect life. We've been deprived of a proper rainy season several times in the past few years and it is a relief when things finally return to normal. A dry, parched Florida is a very sad thing indeed. Although the rains are starting up again, our water table is still low and counties south of here are still critically dry. But here, the afternoon rains are back.

For those with backyard ponds, swimming pools, marshes, lakes or creeks nearby, rainy afternoons mean that the Southern Toads will be coming. We have a small pond, and know this to be true. We built our backyard pond about 6 years ago. When I say "we", I actually mean my husband. I balked at first, believing that it would take a lot of work and would look tacky. Boy was I wrong! What a great addition to our home! It is so peaceful and beautiful to watch. And it's been fairly low maintenance, except for keeping the water levels up and cleaning the filters and the occasional equipment hitch. Otherwise, we've had relatively few problems. The koi we bought small because they were cheaper that way, have grown into huge and colorful fish. The water plants just keep reproducing and growing thicker. This beautiful water feature attracts species of frog and toad, as well as squirrels and birds. In the last few weeks I've seen Black and White, Black Throated Blue, and Common Yellowthroat warblers, and an American Redstart furtively making their way through the bushes to the water for a fresh drink. Dragonflies perch on the Horsetail and zip away for a quick bite. Every night some sort of long skinny orb web spiders weave their webs over the pond surface. Fishing spiders live in the skimmer, and somewhere in the mud there are a few Crayfish that I put in for fun. It's like a mini jungle paradise.

Yesterday afternoon we had a batch of thunderstorms. The sky grew dark and the wind picked up. The temperature dropped and thunder boomed while lightning lit up the sky. And then the rain began. It rained most of the afternoon until bedtime. As the storm let up, I could hear the first trills of Toad Songs coming from the corners of the yard. I went outside to take out the trash and nearly stepped on a toad hopping from the vegetable patch to the pond. The sound grew more intense as more toads came and joined in, and it continued all night and can still be heard, a day later.

At 6am I went out to the pond and counted about 15 toads perched on the edge, swimming and calling in the dark. By 9am many of them had paired up and were mating. Lone males called, hoping to entice females with their lilting arias, like tiny aquatic and operatic tenors. The males sing, and the larger females are drawn irresistibly by their love songs. The sound can be deafening. I counted 3-4 males calling, each trying to drown out the other. The sound is loud enough to hear it inside the house, a fact that our younger daughter made sure we were aware of when she was still living with us. I don't know how the neighbors feel about the sound, but other than filling in the pond, there is not much we can or would do about it. Toads gotta do what toads gotta do. As far as I know there are no statutes regarding nuisance toad noise violations. And besides, we live in a neighborhood called "the Duckpond" with a much larger pond that runs through the center, and some evenings the chorus of Southern Toads, Bull Frogs, Leopard Frogs, Numerous types of Tree Frogs, and other loud critters there is truly deafening. It's the nature of our neighborhood, and one of the reasons that we love living here.

Male Toad Beginning to Sing

The Pond at Night. See How Many Toads You can Count. I See 4, Maybe 5.

Pairing Up Begins

After a while, the females will start laying long strands of eggs and the male on her back will externally fertilize them with his sperm.  You can tell toad eggs from frog eggs because frogs lay their eggs in masses, while toad eggs look like strings of tiny black pearls. Each pair will lay hundreds, if not thousands of eggs in the water. Then they will leave and the eggs will transform. In 4-5 days the eggs will hatch and tiny tadpoles will emerge. The tadpoles are voracious algae and plant eaters and they set to work eating and growing as as much as they can, as fast as they can. Tadpoles that hatch in puddles must work against the clock to grow legs faster than the puddle can dry up. Our toads don't seem to know that they can take their sweet time in our pond with perpetual water, so they hurry anyway. It's a nice arrangement for us having batch after batch of tadpoles. The tadpoles perform a much appreciated pond cleaning. In turn, we give them a place to grow. Good deal all around.

Toad Pair with Eggs

Two Toad Pairs, Lots of Eggs!

This is the 2nd wave of Southern Toads to come to the pond this spring. I watched the last batch of tadpoles zipping around the bottom of the pond just last week. But the weather warmed up, they grew their legs, and just a few days ago I started to see tiny toadlings, the size of a peanut, hopping into the leaf litter. Just in time for the next wave.

Here's a short video clip with some toad song audio. Sit back and enjoy hearing the high pitched rock star ballades that drive lady toads mad.

This Land Was Made for You and Me

This Land Is Your Land
Words and Music by Woody Guthrie

This land is your land This land is my land
From California to the New York island;
From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and Me.

As I was walking that ribbon of highway,
I saw above me that endless skyway:
I saw below me that golden valley:
This land was made for you and me.

I've roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts;
And all around me a voice was sounding:
This land was made for you and me.

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling,
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling,
As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting:
This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."
But on the other side it didn't say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
By the relief office I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.

We are living in difficult, strange times. Many ideas that I've held my whole life such as principles of conservation and the common good are being turned upside down. Some days I feel like Alice in Wonderland as things just keep getting "curiouser and curiouser". Except that Alice woke up and it was all a dream, while our nightmare is real. In our crazy world, selfishness and ignorance rule the day while acting in the common interest and rigorous intellectual inquiry have become negative and suspect. And part of this mass insanity is the idea that publicly held land has been taken away from "the people" by the government and needs to be "taken back". In Utah, where I grew up, this attitude has been working into a frenzy that started in the 70's with the "Sagebrush Rebellion" among the western states. Some people out there feel that the government is infringing on their right to own land and to exploit it to its full potential. In Utah, nearly 80% of the land is under federal or state management, in the form of national and state parks, national and state forests, wildlife refuges and Bureau of Land Management land. Those who want to take back the land see Public Land as a power grab by the government and an unwarranted interference into their right to the resources (read "oil, coal, gas, grazing, recreational off road vehicles, development"). Never mind the fragile and unique nature of the lands in question, or that the western states never owned the land in the first place. (In "Living Dry", Wallace Stegner reminds us that the land was federal before the Western States ever came into existence, so there's no "giving back" to be done.) In this weird scenario, the idea of Public Lands has been turned around, distorting it into some kind of "governmental abuse". But the premise behind protecting public lands is to serve the common good. Public Lands as they stand belong to every citizen of the U.S., as well as visitors from all over the world. They will not be developed into towns or roads or oil refineries. The plants and animals are protected. The air is clean. It is quiet. There is enough land that there are wildlife corridors. Land that is protected now will be there for future generations. The energy (oil) lobby has been successful in whittling away at this land, however, and there are now roads and oil derricks all over BLM land. Fracking isn't too far behind. There is a constant fight to maintain the boundaries of the national parks and monuments. The battle in Utah and in the West over the fate of Public Lands is fierce and ongoing. I am increasingly thankful for all the hard work of the people fighting to protect our natural heritage.

Butte in Desolation Canyon, Utah, on BLM Land

Here in Gainesville, we have a related and potentially precedent setting problem. Gainesville has a vibrant program of purchasing and conserving sensitive natural areas and turning them into nature parks. They become Nature Sanctuaries, where the plants, animals and artifacts are protected, and they contribute to our city's greenway. There are pockets of protected habitat sprinkled all over the city, with attention given to providing nature corridors wherever possible. The problem is that a wealthy and politically powerful property owner has approached the City with a proposal to purchase a section of conservation land that borders his property. He has offered a significant amount of money. A million dollars for about 5 acres. This puts the City in the politically difficult position of possibly turning down money in a time when cash is short, or accepting it and selling out our shared resource to a wealthy person, just because he wants it. The land wasn't for sale. In fact, the City purchased it in order to protect sensitive land. It was an important tract or they wouldn't have purchased it. There are endangered plant species on the property and it connects with a larger protected area that runs through the heart of the city. The wealthy person says he wants a buffer around his property to keep strangers from walking through. Someone argued for him that he will be able to protect the land better than the City can, and others say that the City should take the money and buy an important parcel that would help add more protection to the same large piece of land. But this is not the point. If he owns the land, it becomes private. It is not part of the public holdings. He can do with it what he likes. He'll probably fence in the property, which means that he will cut off that land from other sections. Animals will not be able to travel freely from one end to the other. No one will be able to see the property or enjoy it. The City Commission agreed yesterday to consider this proposal. In our new political climate, and with a new conservative Mayor coming on board in a few weeks, there is a good chance that it will pass. There is still time to try to fight, though, and I think it's important to try.

Invasive/Exotic Air Potato Cleanup in Mason Manor, Next to the Property in Question

This brings me back to the topsy turvy times we're in. When did the Common Good become a bad thing? How can you give Public Land back to "the People"? The Government is us and we are "The People". It is already our land! I am just baffled over the twisted logic. But the fact is that once land is taken out of the "Public" control and given to "the People", it becomes private. Private land with no accountability. No visibility. No access. No constraints. In these science-denying times where it is predicted that we will lose thousands of species in the next century to loss of habitat and climate change it becomes ever more important to protect what we can. Someone once described land conservation in a way I hadn't thought of before. The person said basically that we tend to think of protected land as pieces of a pie. What difference does it make if we just cut off a small slice--develop just a little bit? What we forget is that the pie we see now is only a fraction of the original pie. The pie has been growing smaller and smaller as we have developed more and more. If we continue whittling away at that wilderness pie, pretty soon there will be no pie to take slices from.

Belted Kingfisher in Mason Manor, Next Door to the Property

Public Land is our Natural Heritage. It's our National Heritage. We need to fight to keep the Public Land public.