WEEK 10
Saturday, June 4th, 2016
5:50 pm– 6:35 pm
All Sunny, 78˚
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| Repeat photo, taken in the same place every visit |
My final visit to my site was probably the most interesting yet. I'd never seen the woods so alive with animal activity, maybe it was the heat... I also really got a sense for how dramatically things have changed in just 10 weeks. It's a completely different place today than it was back in April. For one, navigation is far more difficult now than it ever was before, the undergrowth is so thick that I can barely access parts of the woods that I was used to frequenting no problem. But beyond that– the place just
feels different. It smells different, the earthy tones of early spring, and the heavy scent of flowers at the beginning of may, have been replaced with an incredibly complex palate– a combination of all the scents before it along with a heavy, almost overwhelming feeling of life. It's hard to describe...
Anyways, the first thing I noticed, just as I first entered my site, was a
raccoon. I'd seen raccoons around this neighborhood and I knew they inhabited these woods, but I'd never had such a personal encounter with one. I was within a few feet, near enough to see every detail in it's scraggly pelt. At first I just silently watch it forage for fallen berries– the motion of it was crazy, a combination of a cat's methodical, quadrupedal steps, with a squirrels use of the front paws to pick up food and bring it to it's mouth. It seemed almost as comfortable on it's hind legs as on all fours. When I got too close for comfort, it climbed up a tree like an expert, clearly a defense mechanism. I then watched, amused, as it realized I wasn't a threat and it clumsily made it's way back to the ground and stumbled off into the underbrush, embarrassed. While I was watching the raccoon in it's tree I looked to my right and saw another amazing find– a huge pileated
woodpecker, almost posing for a picture barely 10 feet from me!
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| American robin |
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| Pileated Woodpecker |
I'd never seen so much bird activity at my spot. Usually I've had a hard time spotting birds, but today I couldn't help but see them everywhere! I saw several
American Robins, and was able to identify their distinctive rising and falling song (I've been hearing that song all my life and only now have I been able to connect it to the robin.) I also saw a few
Oregon Juncos with their black hoods, and a
Spotted Towhee on a branch on my way out. And I'm not sure if this counts, but on my way back to my parents house I heard a beautiful song and followed it until I saw a dark grey bird with a long beak– I think it was a
Bewick's Wren. I also happened upon a very exciting find– what I believe is a feather of a
Barred Owl! It's color pattern is distinct, white with amorphous light brown blotches. But it also has a feature distinctive of owl feathers– the fuzz around the edges that allows the bird to fly silently at night.
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| Shriveled indian plum |
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| Shriveled Salmon Berry |
The most striking thing for me on this visit was the degree to which things were dying. The fruit indian plum, which I had been tracking the progress of, was no longer plump and yellow, but covered in a dark blue mold and shriveled into basically nothing. The trees and forest floor were littered with dead, shriveled leaves, which was a surprise for me this time of year. Most unexpected of all was the state of the salmon berries. Many of the bushes that had been covered in delicious looking orange fruits were now empty, the only remaining remnants were utterly shriveled and discolored. I have to wonder– this can't be a normal progression. It isn't even summer yet and already these fruiting plants have gone through the entire process of pollination and fruit formation, and now their fruits are already gone. This has already been perhaps the hottest year on record. February had weather similar to a normal April, May had weather similar to a normal August at times, and I'm wondering if global climate change has pushed Seattle's normal seasonal cycle back a few months.
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| Barred owl feather!!! |
FINAL REFLECTION:
1) There are a couple major ways that my perception of the site changed throughout the quarter. First of all, as the diversity of life and the quantity of activity increased (also, as the weather got nicer) I started to enjoy the weekly visits more and more. Each time I showed up I would see things I'd never seen before, and on the last day I couldn't believe how much was going on. It gave me a deeper appreciation for the place– at first it was simply a patch of woods to me, but the more time I spent there, noticing the complexity, the more the meaning of that "patch of woods" become clear. Another big shift in thinking was the slow realization that this place is heavily influenced by human activity. At first, because the area was restricted, I assumed that it was "truly wild" (in my own words.) But the more I noticed the more I realized how wrong I was– in fact the community has had a huge influence on this space from mulching to invasive species removal. The lines between "wild" and "manmade" became more and more blurred for me.
2) I've lived in Seattle my whole life and have always appreciated the natural world around me, but the information I learned in this class allowed me to experience this place in entirely different ways. The geological history of the sound has given me explanations for features of my own city I used to overlook– the huge hill my family lives on top of, for example, is in fact an enormous drumlin carved by moving ice. The knowledge of the variety of microclimates, too, has made me appreciate how truly diverse the pacific NorthWest is, no longer do I think of this as one distinct, easily definable region. Most importantly, learning the names of plants and animals has helped me see them for the first time, and transformed the natural world I grew up in into a place I not only am familiar with, but a place I truly recognize.
3) For me, intimately knowing a natural place is defined by my ability to sit their quietly, and feel like it is somewhere I belong. The more I visited my site, the more I got to know it, the more welcome I felt there. As I said before, learning the words I needed to define what I was seeing helped– it was like learning the names of my neighbors as a first step to getting to know who they are. But ultimately the intimate knowledge came from the emotional experience of beginning to identify with the place, and feel situated within it. There's only so much I could learn from nature by memorizing titles and historical events– the real knowledge I attained was done on my own outside.
4) The most important skills I've gained are my ability to name, and my newfound appreciation for the power of names. At first I was very skeptical of the fact that this course's material had a lot to do with memorizing the various plant and bird names and traits. But I now see that being able to see a certain plant, and identify exactly what plant it is, makes you see a plant in a whole different way. Before I would walk through a forest. Now I walking past Douglas firs, indian plums, western white pines, and I hear American Robins singing in the distance. I'm finding myself unconsciously trying to identify every plant I see now, and I take great pleasure in being able to know exactly what it is that's around me. The name itself doesn't matter, actually. The names could be anything. But having a name makes a plant or animal exist for me in a way it couldn't on it's own.
5) Honestly, it's been a rough quarter. Things sort of fell apart for me mid-quarter, and I ended up skipping a lot of this class. I'm not happy about it, I realize how disrespectful to everyone else's time it is, I realize that it sends the message that I actively don't care. But I do believe that by doing the work, going to the field trips, and seeing what I have seen nonetheless have had a big impact on my perception of natural history and my place in the natural world. Aside from the concept of "naming" I've covered quite a bit, there were moments in this course that have rekindled a kind of pleasure in discovery of the natural environment I haven't felt since childhood. A particularly childish moment was the time we spent digging through the tidepools at Salt Creek, discovering tiny worlds filled with foreign organisms I'd never seen, or had only seen in aquariums. It was a visceral experience of every sense, touching the anemone, tasting the salt in the air, smelling the decaying seaweed. It reminded me why nature is important, and why I love it and have always loved it.
