Month: April 2020

Bear in the Meadow

I saw a photograph that I want to describe to you. The setting is an American alpine meadow surrounded by tall conifers. The view is to the west. A forest of the conifers rings the far side of the meadow. There is a high but thick cloud cover wrapped around the sheer granite walls of the peaks. The morning sun is just now burning off the cloud cover and in places the cliffs are reflecting the sun’s glory. In the meadow not far from the observer is a brown bear, head lifted, looking towards the morning sun.

It is a beautiful picture. It shows the grandeur of the Yosemite valley. It leads me to believe in the grandeur of this park and of all National Parks. The bear in his meadow, in his home, moves me. Yet, the picture of the bear makes me somewhat scared. But being scared is not a bad thing. It makes you cautious, so you are able to make better decisions.

When the hair rises on the back of my neck, I know it is time to consider my position, assess the situation, and take appropriate action for my safety and that of the people who may be with me.

In the photograph the bear looks far away, but it is probably less than 50 yards from me. I believe that he, or she, could cover the distance quickly. Bears are known to be able to charge at speeds above 20 miles per hour, and up to 30 miles per hour. This bear could cover these 50 yards in less than 6 seconds!

So I don’t mind being scared as it makes me aware of where I am and ready to react when I go into bear country.

I have seen grizzlies and other bears at were minding their business, and I let them alone and minded my own business, which was my safety. I kept a safe distance, well beyond 100 yards. That is a minimum safety distance with bears. To quote from the Glacier National Park website;

“Approaching, viewing, or engaging in any activity within 100 yards (91.4 meters) of bears or wolves, …. is prohibited. … Never intentionally get close to a bear. Individual bears have their own personal space requirements, which vary depending on their mood. Each will react differently and its behavior cannot be predicted. All bears are dangerous and should be respected equally.”

Whenever I talk about bears, I must talk safety. Keep away. Enough said.

This brief article is about the bear’s place in the meadow and my place with him.

I must say that I have never been to Yosemite. However, one of these days I hope to get there.

About the bear, in the photograph I can tell from the bear’s alert stance that he is listening and sniffing the air. Something has caught his attention in this, his territory. This is his place. He lives here. And he has, although I don’t know what he would call it, a sense of place about it. He knows the routines of the other animals, where there is food, when the snow will soon fall. He knows his way in this meadow. He likely feels safe here and has what we might consider a level of comfort in this place. And he is jealous of this place and will guard it. For this meadow, the bear has a sense of place.

But I don’t live there. I have never been there. But I have heard stories and exciting tales of camping and hiking in Yosemite. And I have seen pictures and photographs of the place. I want to go there. I also have a sense of place for the park that includes this meadow and includes this bear.

In my mind’s eye, I see the valley below the granite walls. And I as a visitor in the bear’s home, have to respect the bear and his “belongings” and know that he will guard them jealously and violently if he feels it is necessary.

But when I imagine myself in this meadow, I have a feeling of wonder, a feeling of contentment. I feel as if I belong to this place, but not that this place belongs to me.

I feel the contentment of being in the right place. I feel a shared comfort with the mountains, and the woods, and the grasses, and the bear. I feel the desire to stand out at night and see the stars, and then see the sun come up and splay its light across the peaks.

And I will be cautious, as I am in the company of the Bear.

The Glacier Park information on bears ay be found at; https://www.nps.gov/glac/planyourvisit/bears.htm

The picture is based on a photograph at the NPS Yosemite website, El Capitan in Early Morning.Described as “Morning sunlight on eastern wall of El Capitan, Yosemite Valley, with Merced River in foreground. [RL001244].” The photograph may be found at; https://www.nps.gov/media/photo/gallery-item.htm?pg=110576&id=B1794C5D-155D-4519-3E4385AA40753AF0&gid=B17BC4E5-155D-4519-3EC6B73FCE2806A8 .

A New Hike

This week I did not go out to the hills of Virginia for a hike.

I didn’t go out the week before either.

Instead I went for a morning walk to a nearby city park.

Why the shift? Social distancing. Closure of state parks. The Corona Virus.

This virus is changing our lives.

I miss my hikes into the deep woods. But my walks in the neighborhood give me a new appreciation of the work my neighbors put into their yards. I’m not talking about grass being green. I am talking about the joy of standing on a sidewalk and looking at the arrays of azaleas that have burst open in their vibrant colors. I am talking about the vegetables gardens that peek around from the back of their houses or more prominently placed in the side or front yards in order to get better sun. I am talking about the joy I see in my neighbors’ faces as they see the joy in my own face at the beauty provided by their labor.

Let’s be real. A rough-barked Persimmon tree growing on the margin of a field of uncut hay has a stark beauty all its own. I know of the fruit I may find there in the Fall. There is wonder in the ancient Pear tree growing on the edge of a parking lot where a house stood 200 years ago. The tree may only have a few seasons left but in the Spring it blossoms, and in the Fall it still produces several hard, sweet pears. In summer the Chinaberry trees that line the old lanes provide their sweet fruit for me and the birds that usually get them first.

But here in our neighborhood, my pleasure in being outside is immediate. I see the daffodils growing nearly wild in more than one yard. I know that they will be gone soon, but they will be replaced by the later blooms of the flowering trees. I would see many of these same trees deep in the woods on my walks in past Springs. I have written about the pale green blossoms of the small Dogwoods that turn to a blazing white deep in the soon-to-be-shadowed depths of the hardwood forest.

These old places where I walk are like old friends. I know them well in all seasons. And likewise they know me. But now the sidewalks in my neighborhood are becoming my friends again. I had walked them when I was recovering from an illness two decades ago. I know the slender, twisted branches of the Quince bushes with their delicate pink blooms. There are several of these along my walk up to the park. I know the shade of Linden trees that are planted in the park at the end of these urban paths.

These places, the present and the past, all have a place in my mind. I derive pleasure in thinking about the old, and from walking the new. And when I get back home, I can relive those walks in the forest paths of years ago by telling tales of those paths. And the tales of today’s walk in the neighborhood? I can tell those stories as well, as together we build a sense of place for these, our shared sidewalks.

And there are the birds as well.

Bug on the Water

It is Spring. The rain is a bit warmer. The days are a bit longer. The early flowers are beginning to poke their heads up in the fields and in the yards.

And out in the woods the buds are showing on the trees and bushes.

In my neighborhood the flowers have paused for a moment. The Cherry blossoms were magnificent. Even the fall of the Cherry blossoms was nice; it looked like a late snow fall. Now we are awaiting the Dogwood trees which burst open, all in the same week, throughout the neighborhood.

Back to the woods the buds and nascent leaves are showing red and green throughout the undergrowth. The Persimmon trees still have tight buds. The blackberry vines are showing buds that promise a sweet treat in late summer. The Dogwoods in the deep woods are preparing, just as the ones in our neighborhood, to burst open in all their glory.

But what of the bugs. I have seen one or two of the bright yellow Cloudless Sulphur Butterfly (Phoebis sennae) of Virginia in the fields. And while on the trail I have been passed by several large bumble bees. But its not up, but down that I want to look.

In the stream that the trail crosses and recrosses I can see small bugs, True Bugs as it turns out, darting around as they chase and follow each other. They skate on the waters surface from the edge of the bank into the slight current of the small stream. These are Water Striders, insects of the Order Hemiptera, meaning “half-wing” due to their divided fore wings. But it is their feet that are the most amazing and which give them the ability to glide on the surface of the water.

These insects spend their life first beneath and later on top of the surface of streams and ponds. They are sometimes carnivorous and prey on smaller and less agile bugs that come into their territory. And they delight us with their quick movements as they sprint across the water’s surface. This ability is due to the size of their long feet/fore legs which rest on the water. Their long legs distribute their body weight across the surface of the water and at each foot they are amply supported by the water’s surface tension. They can glide across the water’s surface without breaking through. The Water Strider’s body and legs and feet are covered in tiny hairs which trap air bubbles when in contact with water. These hairs covering the little bug’s entire body are water repellent. These hairs not only help the Water Strider to distribute their weight on the water’s surface but allow them to quickly shed any water that might splash onto their body and weigh them down.

As I stand on the edge of the bank, I watch these Water Striders dart across the surface of the stream. Their quick movements are mesmerizing as the bugs chase each other across the surface.

These are not the only insects in the streams. Right now the nymphs of the Mayfly (Order Ephemeroptera) and the Stonefly (Order Plecoptera) are beneath the water’s surface. They remain there for several years after they hatch. Then as early Summer warms the air and the water, the oldest class of these insects will emerge as adults and fly up from the surface in clouds that can easily be seen. The nymphs of these two insects are especially important indicators of the health of the streams as the insects are very susceptible to pollution. The clouds of these insects above the water are indicators of a healthy stream. And these clouds provide a tasty treat to the fish of the streams.

Below the clouds the Water Strider skates across his territory.