Final Post ... for the semester

Darling buds of May April

I’ve grown attached to this pond (and its neighbor to the north) over the course of this semester. I might not be required to come, watch and listen any longer, but I know I’ll continue to visit. All the plants and creatures that were dormant all winter are only starting to wake up and bloom or swim. I don’t want to miss the action.

The blogging assignment has been a gift. Each spring I watch for the baby geese when I run or walk through the park. Aside from that I never paid much attention to the geese, except to carefully step over the mess they leave on the paths. Over the past winter, my curiosity about the geese has grown into a curiosity about the other birds I share this city with. I listen now, and wonder how long it takes a person to learn to distinguish the different chirps. I watch them watch me, their heads tilted to the side as if compensating for a sore neck. Every day when I walk Mucho, I see two birds—I think they’re female robins—feeding in the grass at the church down the street. They move so quickly sometimes the worms or insects they pick up fly out of their beaks, so they have to start the hunting and pecking all over again. It looks comical. Is there some evolutionary reason or adaptation that caused this behavior? Is it just me making them nervous? I’m more inspired to do a little research, see if I can answer these questions after taking this class.

I used to tease Stella and tell her I was president of the science club in my high school. Because my lack of scientific knowledge is a joke. I barely passed. I wasn’t interested. Approaching biology, and skimming a few other science disciplines, through literature changed this apathy. I want to know more now. And I’m slowly becoming more comfortable writing about nature, what it means to me and what it might mean for my fellow city dwellers.

I came into the class not knowing much about what nature writing is and what it can be. I’ve fallen in love with the genre. I still find some pieces too meditative and lacking human presence, but we read a lot that was full of life and full of surprise. I’ve been inspired by Jenny Price and her look at the Los Angeles River, Lisa Couturier’s close looks at nature in the city, and Terry Tempest William’s thoughtful writing about women and wildlife, particularly birds. 

For the Chickadees: This Must Be the Place

What a difference two weeks makes. The pond has shaken itself free of the snow and ice and gray that has blanketed it for months. More birds have arrived. The geese still patrol the island, along with some gulls. No more herons, or at least there weren’t any when I went this week. And a group of about five turtles sat on a big rock just off the island. How long have they been awake?

Many more humans have arrived as well. I brought Henry and Stella with me, since it was so nice out. All winter when I visited the pond, the other people I saw were usually alone, usually quiet. On this sunny afternoon, the boardwalk was full of families, couples and lots of other dogs. And Stella spotted some fish.

Spring is sprung

We entered by the former boathouse. Right away, Henry and Stella spotted toy in the water—one of those hollow plastic zoo souvenirs. The bright green ape floated on his back close enough to the sidewalk that my kids thought they could reach in and pick it up. When they couldn’t grab it, they spent some time looking for a stick to push it into the tall pond grass, where they thought they’d be able to grab it. But there were  no sticks around. So we walked on.

Under the pedestrian bridge, I showed them the mud on the beams, put there so barn swallows can build nests. “Do you think someone throws that up there?” Stella asked. They must. “That would be a fun job,” she said.

We planned to stay for only 20 minutes. Everyone had homework. But once we were there, it was hard to leave. We walked the entire half-mile boardwalk then stopped in the pavilion to take photos.

As I’ve been blogging about the boardwalk, so has the zoo staff. Their most recent entry says the birdfeeders I spotted last time I was at the pond are not actually feeders. They’re meant to be homes for black-capped chickadees. Like woodpeckers and nuthatches, chickadees are cavity-nesting birds. Many birds have returned to the pond since the renovation, such as red-winged blackbirds and house finches. But cavity-nesting birds don’t have as many opportunities to find homes where the trees are healthy and thriving—not as many cavities. So the zoo hung nesting boxes, with openings that are too small for sparrows, one of the chickadees’ main housing competitors. The zoo hopes that starting this year, migrating chickadees will like the boardwalk as well as the herons and geese do.