Wednesday, September 22nd
10:00 pm
I've gone the past three days trying to decide what would be an important, meaningful, and lasting observation of nature, with the result that I have neglected to write much of anything down. I was so eager to find something amazing, I ignored the little things that make our campus beautiful. That make it nature. For instance, this morning I watched a duck perform his wake-up ritual. He began on one foot, slumbering happily in the Mill Stream behind Goudy. A shift in the breeze; his internal alarm clock went off, and stirred from his position. Then preening began. Now, I won't claim to know anything about mallards, but as far as ducks go, this one was definitely a player. He stood Jesus-like upon the surface of the water, although no doubt his foot was resting on a rock just below the surface. First his tail needed in-depth cleaning; his wing; his neck; his chest. My watch told me that a solid seventeen minutes had passed before he finally turned back to face me. I'd like to think I did not imagine what happened next: he looked through the window, and I looked out, and for a moment we made perfect eye contact. "Well, ya done yet?" my face said. The disdainful toss of his head was clearly meant to convey how little he thought of my opinion, but the next minute he did indeed fly away.
You may call me Kaliko, Duck-Whisperer.
Well, this encounter brightened my day and set me back on my track of observation. I gained many quizzical glances when I knelt down to test the water of the Mill Stream, and discovered it now covered my fingers and half my palm- yay! (I can't find my ruler, so if someone wants to loan theirs or take over the duty of measuring the stream, it would be fabulous. I'm afraid my measurements are a bit estimated.) Later, I was down by the stream once more. I had never noticed the saplings beside the Mill Stream, where it runs past Rogers' Music Center; so when I realized they were there, and tagged, I was quick to whip out my notebook and take a tally. I discovered two small Douglas Spireas, two Pacific Ninebacks, a Red Flowering Currant, and three rather sad looking Red Elderberries. The first two Elderberry plants were more of sticks than saplings. I scratched the away from the 'trunks' with my fingernail, but while I did find moisture, the cambium was a dry, brown in color, not the cheerful green I have come to expect from such young plants. The third was better off, complete with spiny little leaves. I have a good deal of hope for that little guy.
In the evening, I saw a familiar crow outside Kaneko. While I had at first thought his neck was orange, seeing him up close made me realized that the feathers there are in fact missing, and what I had thought to be discoloration is actually skin. This leads me to wonder- is my crow actually a female, and was this perhaps caused by some rather rough mating? Searching the internet for information on crow mating habits is very little help: they all say the same thing. "Crows dance, males fluff up, then after mating they fly off..." Oh well, I'll ask Dave on Friday.
10:00 pm
I've gone the past three days trying to decide what would be an important, meaningful, and lasting observation of nature, with the result that I have neglected to write much of anything down. I was so eager to find something amazing, I ignored the little things that make our campus beautiful. That make it nature. For instance, this morning I watched a duck perform his wake-up ritual. He began on one foot, slumbering happily in the Mill Stream behind Goudy. A shift in the breeze; his internal alarm clock went off, and stirred from his position. Then preening began. Now, I won't claim to know anything about mallards, but as far as ducks go, this one was definitely a player. He stood Jesus-like upon the surface of the water, although no doubt his foot was resting on a rock just below the surface. First his tail needed in-depth cleaning; his wing; his neck; his chest. My watch told me that a solid seventeen minutes had passed before he finally turned back to face me. I'd like to think I did not imagine what happened next: he looked through the window, and I looked out, and for a moment we made perfect eye contact. "Well, ya done yet?" my face said. The disdainful toss of his head was clearly meant to convey how little he thought of my opinion, but the next minute he did indeed fly away.
You may call me Kaliko, Duck-Whisperer.
Well, this encounter brightened my day and set me back on my track of observation. I gained many quizzical glances when I knelt down to test the water of the Mill Stream, and discovered it now covered my fingers and half my palm- yay! (I can't find my ruler, so if someone wants to loan theirs or take over the duty of measuring the stream, it would be fabulous. I'm afraid my measurements are a bit estimated.) Later, I was down by the stream once more. I had never noticed the saplings beside the Mill Stream, where it runs past Rogers' Music Center; so when I realized they were there, and tagged, I was quick to whip out my notebook and take a tally. I discovered two small Douglas Spireas, two Pacific Ninebacks, a Red Flowering Currant, and three rather sad looking Red Elderberries. The first two Elderberry plants were more of sticks than saplings. I scratched the away from the 'trunks' with my fingernail, but while I did find moisture, the cambium was a dry, brown in color, not the cheerful green I have come to expect from such young plants. The third was better off, complete with spiny little leaves. I have a good deal of hope for that little guy.
In the evening, I saw a familiar crow outside Kaneko. While I had at first thought his neck was orange, seeing him up close made me realized that the feathers there are in fact missing, and what I had thought to be discoloration is actually skin. This leads me to wonder- is my crow actually a female, and was this perhaps caused by some rather rough mating? Searching the internet for information on crow mating habits is very little help: they all say the same thing. "Crows dance, males fluff up, then after mating they fly off..." Oh well, I'll ask Dave on Friday.
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