Whatever Mother Nature does, she does it with all her heart. She
dishes out recovery with blooms and new leaves, songbirds, butterflies,
and bees.
The mountaintop reeled under the devastation of the Easter weekend freeze. The Quantum Cherry tree is still struggling to put on new leaves as if the star magnolia. There aren't enough leaves to provide a canopy for the tender pot plants from the greenhouse. I fear the Clendendron trees, one of all time favorites, are dead. There is no sign of life after six weeks since the freeze. They were not only my favorites, but butterflies covered them from the time they bloomed until fall. The oldest stood 30 feet tall, and provided shade for the Pilgrim geese during the heat of summer. Their demise is much like losing an old friend on the mountaintop.
A few of the Iris are showing buds, and the late blooming peonies are opening. What a luxury to have flowers in bloom again. Spring without blooms is hard to imagine, after waiting months through winter for them to arrive. Some of the lilies are nodding in the warm spring breezes with heads full of buds. Others did not show buds this year.
The laurel is in bloom, and it is a welcome escort down the mountain each morning. Bees are back out and humming, and at evening the whippoorwills call. Although it is past mid-May, it seems that is was March only yesterday. Every year we worry about if spring is early or late, and we fear for plants, blooms and buds. But the plants don ' t
forget, because their memory is not like ours. Plants have a fundamental memory, a response to the rhythms of time. It is part of the order that keeps days and nights, season and years in their immutable sequence.
The scarlet tanager has found the mountaintop again. Some call it a black-winged redbird or firebird. Nobody ever forgets the scarlet tanager, once one visits. Beside the tanager, the cardinal' s deep red seems a bit dull. Only the males are clothed in the vivid red, and then only in the spring and summer. The females have yellowish
olive-green feathers. Her wings are a brownish-gray. When winter approaches the male tanager will look much like the female.
May' s air holds the golden dust that sends many humans hurrying for the tissue box. The air itself is dusted with the substance of life, the pollen crop of the trees. The hickories, oaks, walnuts, and all the conifers spread clouds of sulphur-yellow pollen. It is one of the
oldest fertility rites on earth. Some of the pollen reaches the female flowers and produce the seeds that keep the planet green. It will be over soon, and red noses and eyes will be able to return to normal.
The day begins early now. At first light, the birds begin to celebrate the dawn. The dawn chorus swells into a full cathedral choir by 7 a.m. No one complains that May is a noisy month.
Wisps of silver mist still hug the hollows with memories of midnight coolness at daybreak. The busyness of the day hasn' t intruded yet.
You can hear the breeze whispering through the treetops. The sunrise is the day's beginnings. Perhaps that is what the birds are celebrating. Those who know another dimension of time can, for a little while, participate in genesis itself.
June bugs are already on the back walk. They are blundering beetles
that appear at dusk and linger well into the dark.
Fawns are beginning to appear in the woods. Leave them where you find them. A fawn lacks scent and with their dappled coloring, they are well camouflaged, and usually remain safe from predators. The doe returns to the fawn several times a day to nurse it and clean it. Staying only a few minutes each time, she leaves again to seek food. Most
fawns do not do well in captivity. Leave nature where you find it.
Bees are in serious trouble in the Valley. They are suffering "bee hive collapse." The bees leave the hive in search of nectar and pollen, and never return. This is drastic, because man depends on bees to pollinate crops to produce food. Man cannot replicate what the bees do. There is no substitute for trillions and trillions of honeybees
worldwide, pollinating hundreds of thousands of square miles. If
honeybees become extinct, man may not be far behind. Mites and pollution, including pesticides, had already compromised bees and now a new plague has struck.
"We don't know what is causing the hives to collapse," Edd Buchanan, master beekeeper says," We are meeting and we are studying, but we simply don't know yet."
Researchers have decided to call the latest bee plague "colony collapse disorder." A Cornell University study estimated that honeybees annually pollinate more than $14 billion worth of seeds and crops in the United States, which includes fruits, vegetables, and nuts.
"Every third bite we consume in our diet is dependent on a honeybee
to pollinate that food," Zac Browning, vice president of the American Beekeeping Federation, said.
Some beekeepers on the east coast report losses of more than 70 percent of their hives. Beekeepers consider a loss of up to 20 percent in the off-season normal. Colony Collapse Disorder is not just a United States problem. It is occurring in Spain and Poland as well.
With global warming threatening many species, and now bees seriously endangered, it may be later than we think.
May you always hear the whisper of wings.
© Copyright North American Wildlife Health Care Center
P.O. Box 155
Black Mountain, North Carolina, USA 28711
A non-profit 501-3-C organization dedicated to wildlife research and education
Showing posts with label may. Show all posts
Showing posts with label may. Show all posts
May is busy putting the icing on the season’s cake
From mid-May to June reminds me of being in a bakery where cakes are being decorated with frothy pastel colored icing. It is a confectionary time in nature.
There are apple blossoms and lilacs It is time between new leaf and full leaf canopies. It is a time of anemones and roses. May is a dainty time in nature.
The day starts early on the mountaintop with birds singing from their hearts. Soon after first light they begin to celebrate the dawn. It is easy to wake and for a few minutes listen and identify who is up and about. There is one male tufted titmouse that begins to call and announce his territory before the light arrives. Obviously he wants everyone to know who and where he is, especially the opposite sex.
The trees shimmer in the early light with their fresh new leaves that are still celery green. As the season matures, the leaves will become shades of darker green. Roadside grass is lush with newness, and hurries toward June's maturity. For those who suffer allergies to grass, it is not a comfortable season.
Wisps of silver mist hug the Valley. The busyness of the day has not intruded yet. One can hear the breeze whispering through the treetops as it tussles the young leaves. It is the sunrise hour, the beginning of another new day. June bugs are already out. These big, blundering beetles respond to spring with a hum all their own. They appear at dusk and linger into darkness, buzzing a greeting to
porch lights and lighted windows. They come from soft white grubs in the soil, but to look at their armored bodies and oddly stiff wings, one might think they are a product of a whimsical workshop.
If you stand outside near a light, one of the beetle bombers is likely to land on you, craw up your arm or crawl under your hair. Many young boys who didn't know any better used to tie a string to a leg and have their own beetle flying machine. Such behavior is much too boring for young boys today. I'm sure the June beetle is thankful that boys find it boring.
When a June beetle finds its way inside, it doesn't take long to hear it blundering against a wall or scratching with its six pairs of claws. The beetle lays a few dozen eggs in June or July with each egg tidily enclosed in a little ball of dirt. The eggs are placed in a shallow burrow in a garden or field and lawn. Each egg hatches into a white grub that as trouble crawling because of its large abdomen curled under the body. The grubs feed on roots of grass and other plants, often damaging crops and lawns.
Raccoons, skunks and bears enjoy a snack of beetle grubs when they can find them. In the fall the grubs burrow down to two feet in depth to spend the winter. In spring they surface to continue feeding and growing until fall arrives again. Once again they burrow deep in the ground.
In June or July of the following year the grubs become pupae, and in August or September the adult beetles hatch. Obviously, in the world of June beetles, Mother Nature takes her time.
The adult beetle continues to stay buried in the soil and does not emerge until the following spring. On a warm late May or early June evening, it emerges and flies to a close tree where it chews on the leaves and waits for mating and egg-laying time to arrive.
The June beetles have many predators. What raccoons, skunks and bears don't get, shrews, blackbirds and crows move in for a snack. It is the grubs that attract predators not the mature beetle. Black wasp burrows and paralyzes a grub by stinging it. Then the wasp lays an egg on the paralyzed victim's back. The wasp egg hatch and the larva fed on the body fluid of the living grub-finally consuming all of it. Surely the grubs and wasps would make great characters in a horror movie. Fishermen discovered long ago that a big fat white grub with a brown head makes good fishing bait.
When you see a June beetle in flight, it makes one wonder how the insect accomplishes the feat. The beetle shares the category of nature's impossibilities with the bumblebee.
When a beetle lands on its back, it is almost helpless, looking much like a tiny mechanical toy. They blunder into walls and furniture inside, and make a buzzing fuss that drives house cats insane until they locate the beetle. The claws make cats step back and ponder the bug. I have a Maine coon cat, Minnie, that can ponder a June beetle for at least an hour, before she gives up her beetle prey to one of her brothers, who is too lazy to do more than stare at it. It is the buzzing sound and the flailing claws that entice a cat to at least touch the bug.
The June bug persists in nature. They aren't pretty like butterflies, and wasps and bees are more industrious, but the beetles hold their own in nature's hierarchy.
May Mother Nature always be kind to you, and grant you the whisper of wings.
© Copyright North American Wildlife Health Care Center
P.O. Box 155
Black Mountain, North Carolina, USA 28711
A non-profit 501-3-C organization dedicated to wildlife research and education
There are apple blossoms and lilacs It is time between new leaf and full leaf canopies. It is a time of anemones and roses. May is a dainty time in nature.
The day starts early on the mountaintop with birds singing from their hearts. Soon after first light they begin to celebrate the dawn. It is easy to wake and for a few minutes listen and identify who is up and about. There is one male tufted titmouse that begins to call and announce his territory before the light arrives. Obviously he wants everyone to know who and where he is, especially the opposite sex.
The trees shimmer in the early light with their fresh new leaves that are still celery green. As the season matures, the leaves will become shades of darker green. Roadside grass is lush with newness, and hurries toward June's maturity. For those who suffer allergies to grass, it is not a comfortable season.
Wisps of silver mist hug the Valley. The busyness of the day has not intruded yet. One can hear the breeze whispering through the treetops as it tussles the young leaves. It is the sunrise hour, the beginning of another new day. June bugs are already out. These big, blundering beetles respond to spring with a hum all their own. They appear at dusk and linger into darkness, buzzing a greeting to
porch lights and lighted windows. They come from soft white grubs in the soil, but to look at their armored bodies and oddly stiff wings, one might think they are a product of a whimsical workshop.
If you stand outside near a light, one of the beetle bombers is likely to land on you, craw up your arm or crawl under your hair. Many young boys who didn't know any better used to tie a string to a leg and have their own beetle flying machine. Such behavior is much too boring for young boys today. I'm sure the June beetle is thankful that boys find it boring.
When a June beetle finds its way inside, it doesn't take long to hear it blundering against a wall or scratching with its six pairs of claws. The beetle lays a few dozen eggs in June or July with each egg tidily enclosed in a little ball of dirt. The eggs are placed in a shallow burrow in a garden or field and lawn. Each egg hatches into a white grub that as trouble crawling because of its large abdomen curled under the body. The grubs feed on roots of grass and other plants, often damaging crops and lawns.
Raccoons, skunks and bears enjoy a snack of beetle grubs when they can find them. In the fall the grubs burrow down to two feet in depth to spend the winter. In spring they surface to continue feeding and growing until fall arrives again. Once again they burrow deep in the ground.
In June or July of the following year the grubs become pupae, and in August or September the adult beetles hatch. Obviously, in the world of June beetles, Mother Nature takes her time.
The adult beetle continues to stay buried in the soil and does not emerge until the following spring. On a warm late May or early June evening, it emerges and flies to a close tree where it chews on the leaves and waits for mating and egg-laying time to arrive.
The June beetles have many predators. What raccoons, skunks and bears don't get, shrews, blackbirds and crows move in for a snack. It is the grubs that attract predators not the mature beetle. Black wasp burrows and paralyzes a grub by stinging it. Then the wasp lays an egg on the paralyzed victim's back. The wasp egg hatch and the larva fed on the body fluid of the living grub-finally consuming all of it. Surely the grubs and wasps would make great characters in a horror movie. Fishermen discovered long ago that a big fat white grub with a brown head makes good fishing bait.
When you see a June beetle in flight, it makes one wonder how the insect accomplishes the feat. The beetle shares the category of nature's impossibilities with the bumblebee.
When a beetle lands on its back, it is almost helpless, looking much like a tiny mechanical toy. They blunder into walls and furniture inside, and make a buzzing fuss that drives house cats insane until they locate the beetle. The claws make cats step back and ponder the bug. I have a Maine coon cat, Minnie, that can ponder a June beetle for at least an hour, before she gives up her beetle prey to one of her brothers, who is too lazy to do more than stare at it. It is the buzzing sound and the flailing claws that entice a cat to at least touch the bug.
The June bug persists in nature. They aren't pretty like butterflies, and wasps and bees are more industrious, but the beetles hold their own in nature's hierarchy.
May Mother Nature always be kind to you, and grant you the whisper of wings.
© Copyright North American Wildlife Health Care Center
P.O. Box 155
Black Mountain, North Carolina, USA 28711
A non-profit 501-3-C organization dedicated to wildlife research and education
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