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A local view
Dec. 22nd, 2021 01:07 pmIt is now the night before the winter solstice. After that, the sun begins its symbolic rebirth and its northward march, and the days will grow older accordingly. Another cycle of the seasons will follow the steady ascension of the sun. But spring is still a long ways off. The wintertide is a period symbolic of endings and of new beginnings both. As such this is a very fitting time for a reflection. The phenomena of the natural world always seem to be an outward reflection of the soul of a particular moment in time. One of the realizations I had recently was that natural history used to be a common hobby of the common people of the United States. This is by and large fallen by the wayside. In particular, the writing down of the facts is not much done anymore, Even though it was a popular genre only a few decades ago. As I am right on the cusp of a new cycle of life myself, it is only fitting that I do my part to bring this cataloging of the pageant of seasons and life in the natural world back to public consciousness.
Last week, I discussed my recent peregrinations as an introduction to this new project. They brought me finally to the east bank of the St Croix River. I've already begun the process of mapping the space around me, and building a mental model of my new surroundings. My homeland was the area west of Minneapolis, a land of strongly glaciated topography and landforms. As such it was characterized by low rolling hills, woods, lakes and marshes. By contrast, the river valley, while being at almost at the same latitude, might as well be a different world. It is a part of the unglaciated driftless area. The bedrock is limestone, and there is a dramatic hill and valley aspect to the land, but wetlands apart from streams and rivers are hard to come by. This is a sort of landscape that would be more familiar to some Southerners than people from my neck of the woods, even though it's not a very great distance from where I grew up.
Along with the longitudinal change comes a change in the wildlife, though in this case the difference is more subtle than dense. Both areas belong to the hardwood belt, so oaks and maples are common, although on this side of the river there are more evergreens. Many of the same species that haunted the feeders in the Western Suburbs can also be seen here: large flocks of wild turkeys, deer in abundance, finches, woodpeckers, gray and red squirrels, blue jays, morning doves, and the ubiquitous nuthatches and chickadees. These are perennial forest dwellers no matter where you go in this corner of creation. One major difference though is that the numbers of crows in the western suburbs had sharply declined over time, while there are still large numbers of them here. I mentioned last week that I lived up north for a season, and I always heard barred owls at night. Here, the usual call is that of the great horned owl.
There are certain striking differences that stand out. In the area west of the twin cities, bald eagles had gotten steadily more common over time. There was a time when they were almost never seen in that area. But, everyday sightings of bald eagles can be expected in the St Croix Valley. The river valleys are now full of a species that were once rare in the entire United States. I should take a moment to note that this is the national bird, however due to environmental pollution and callous hunting practices, at one point in the last century there was a serious concern that it would go extinct. And yet here we are, in the 21st century, and they have never been more abundant in my lifetime. This is an illustration in real time of the principle of replenishment, which shows that in many instances the natural world if let alone it will recover in time.
In my native Minnesota there was a very famous bird watcher at one time Charles T. Flugum who wrote about[1] the many birds that visited his farm near Albert Lea, Minnesota as he went about his daily routine of farming. He kept a record for decades of the species that passed by, and I read the entire collection of columns that were made public, as it's kind of an encyclopedia for birds that might be seen in the north country. There were a number of species in this collection that I had never seen or saw only rarely in the suburbs. The East Bank of the St Croix River right now is like a transition zone between the exurbs of the Twin Cities and rural farmland. As such, there are farm species that would not be seen in the suburbs, including Brewer’s Blackbirds and Lapland longspurs. Other species that I never saw in the Western Suburbs include the cross bills and the tufted titmice, both of which can be routinely spotted on this side of the river.
It goes to show that one needn't stray far from one's land of origin before encountering novelty. The change in distance was not far, but the change in biodiversity is enough to be immediately noticeable to careful observation. I should add that the trend in my lifetime in all the places I've lived is toward more wild nature even in spite of very intensive urban development in certain parts of the country. Even the Western Suburbs, which got quite developed over the course of my life, still contained very luxurious woodland and wetland ecosystems. Though I abhorred the common practice of clear cutting woodlots and such in order to make room for new concrete steel and glass developments, there was still enough continuous wild land to support a considerable wildlife. Agrarian land can be about as bad an offender, with economic pressures tending toward optimum utilization, but in the driftless area, cutting the forests on the hillsides would lead to bad erosion, so in general it is not done and there are big refuges for wildlife as well. In the last century, very large preserves were also set aside to make sure that the biome was preserved to some extent.
2021 will probably be remembered as a time of crisis and troubles due to the wider political and economic context. But outside of the transient domain of human affairs, there is a wider world that we too often forget. It's there since long before we were, and it will be after we are gone too. What I find is that careful observation of the living earth is an antidote to anxieties and excessive self-importance. We are here but a short time, from the perspective of earth we're just flows of energies of barely a passing moment's significance. On this winter solstice, I wanted to adopt a new perspective, one that takes into account the eternal and timeless as well as the sound and fury of the folly of mankind. Noticing surroundings and recording what you see is one way to tap into this wider current of forces above and beyond the vanities of mere mortals. One can only hope that this increase of awareness leads to further enlightenment somewhere down the road.
On that note, Good Solstice to you and yours, a very Merry Christmastide too if you observe those practices, and may your kindly aspirations be realized in the year to come.
[1] - https://www.amazon.com/Birding-Tractor-Seat-Charles-Flugum/dp/0690009712
Last week, I discussed my recent peregrinations as an introduction to this new project. They brought me finally to the east bank of the St Croix River. I've already begun the process of mapping the space around me, and building a mental model of my new surroundings. My homeland was the area west of Minneapolis, a land of strongly glaciated topography and landforms. As such it was characterized by low rolling hills, woods, lakes and marshes. By contrast, the river valley, while being at almost at the same latitude, might as well be a different world. It is a part of the unglaciated driftless area. The bedrock is limestone, and there is a dramatic hill and valley aspect to the land, but wetlands apart from streams and rivers are hard to come by. This is a sort of landscape that would be more familiar to some Southerners than people from my neck of the woods, even though it's not a very great distance from where I grew up.
Along with the longitudinal change comes a change in the wildlife, though in this case the difference is more subtle than dense. Both areas belong to the hardwood belt, so oaks and maples are common, although on this side of the river there are more evergreens. Many of the same species that haunted the feeders in the Western Suburbs can also be seen here: large flocks of wild turkeys, deer in abundance, finches, woodpeckers, gray and red squirrels, blue jays, morning doves, and the ubiquitous nuthatches and chickadees. These are perennial forest dwellers no matter where you go in this corner of creation. One major difference though is that the numbers of crows in the western suburbs had sharply declined over time, while there are still large numbers of them here. I mentioned last week that I lived up north for a season, and I always heard barred owls at night. Here, the usual call is that of the great horned owl.
There are certain striking differences that stand out. In the area west of the twin cities, bald eagles had gotten steadily more common over time. There was a time when they were almost never seen in that area. But, everyday sightings of bald eagles can be expected in the St Croix Valley. The river valleys are now full of a species that were once rare in the entire United States. I should take a moment to note that this is the national bird, however due to environmental pollution and callous hunting practices, at one point in the last century there was a serious concern that it would go extinct. And yet here we are, in the 21st century, and they have never been more abundant in my lifetime. This is an illustration in real time of the principle of replenishment, which shows that in many instances the natural world if let alone it will recover in time.
In my native Minnesota there was a very famous bird watcher at one time Charles T. Flugum who wrote about[1] the many birds that visited his farm near Albert Lea, Minnesota as he went about his daily routine of farming. He kept a record for decades of the species that passed by, and I read the entire collection of columns that were made public, as it's kind of an encyclopedia for birds that might be seen in the north country. There were a number of species in this collection that I had never seen or saw only rarely in the suburbs. The East Bank of the St Croix River right now is like a transition zone between the exurbs of the Twin Cities and rural farmland. As such, there are farm species that would not be seen in the suburbs, including Brewer’s Blackbirds and Lapland longspurs. Other species that I never saw in the Western Suburbs include the cross bills and the tufted titmice, both of which can be routinely spotted on this side of the river.
It goes to show that one needn't stray far from one's land of origin before encountering novelty. The change in distance was not far, but the change in biodiversity is enough to be immediately noticeable to careful observation. I should add that the trend in my lifetime in all the places I've lived is toward more wild nature even in spite of very intensive urban development in certain parts of the country. Even the Western Suburbs, which got quite developed over the course of my life, still contained very luxurious woodland and wetland ecosystems. Though I abhorred the common practice of clear cutting woodlots and such in order to make room for new concrete steel and glass developments, there was still enough continuous wild land to support a considerable wildlife. Agrarian land can be about as bad an offender, with economic pressures tending toward optimum utilization, but in the driftless area, cutting the forests on the hillsides would lead to bad erosion, so in general it is not done and there are big refuges for wildlife as well. In the last century, very large preserves were also set aside to make sure that the biome was preserved to some extent.
2021 will probably be remembered as a time of crisis and troubles due to the wider political and economic context. But outside of the transient domain of human affairs, there is a wider world that we too often forget. It's there since long before we were, and it will be after we are gone too. What I find is that careful observation of the living earth is an antidote to anxieties and excessive self-importance. We are here but a short time, from the perspective of earth we're just flows of energies of barely a passing moment's significance. On this winter solstice, I wanted to adopt a new perspective, one that takes into account the eternal and timeless as well as the sound and fury of the folly of mankind. Noticing surroundings and recording what you see is one way to tap into this wider current of forces above and beyond the vanities of mere mortals. One can only hope that this increase of awareness leads to further enlightenment somewhere down the road.
On that note, Good Solstice to you and yours, a very Merry Christmastide too if you observe those practices, and may your kindly aspirations be realized in the year to come.
[1] - https://www.amazon.com/Birding-Tractor-Seat-Charles-Flugum/dp/0690009712
