They were calling for bad weather so we canceled the Appalachian Trail hike. Turns out the weather has been fine. Grr.
To console ourselves, we ate dinner outside and went for a walk at sunset. To clarify, I live in a suburban neighborhood across from a giant brick hospital that threatens to devour the neighborhood as they purchase a block at a time and expand the great brick wonder. This wouldn't offend me so much if the hospital was a good one, but nearly every local who has had an experience there has had a bad one.
Anyway, the topic of roadkill has been nagging at me since I drove the 30 minutes down to McDaniel on the first night of this course. While we were walking, we came across a number of flattened rabbits and corpses of squirrels.
It boggles me that the advent of the word 'road kill' came after the introduction of the automobile to roads. Previously, I cannot imagine that the horse and buggy did much killing on the roads. In other words, up until the point of the car, there was simply 'kill,' not "roadkill".
The other thing that stupifies me is the fact that when I'm driving or walking as I have done tonight, I find myself slowing down to look as if I simply must know what beast or creature was ended in a flash of asphalt and black rubber.
Today it was a rabbit. I suppose labeling it a rabbit really isn't doing the smear on the road much justice. The front half of what was a rabbit had been flattened so evenly that the relief was in the shape of the rabbit. The only portion of the creature's body that was still 3D was his fluffy white tail. Yes, it was even still white and danced a little as each car whipped past the little corpse. I stopped on the sidewalk and stared at it, laughing. My boyfriend, having seen it and continued with his pace, stopped and looked at me.
Why was that irony so funny? Would it have been funny if it had been a human being plastered to the asphalt? Can I dare to make that comparison?
Don't know, but I'm sure I won't stop pausing to look at the highway's latest victim.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
To come back to later...
A quote to consider at a later time:
"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be."
Anne Frank
"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be."
Anne Frank
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tree Rats
There is a tree on the slope of McDaniel's campus that looks up toward the dormitories with a gaping mouth and a bulging eye where a limb used to be.
Beneath it, five baby squirrels had decided to linger for their evening meal. Two wandered and leaped farther down the hill so that I could not see, but three remained close to me, unflinching to my movement and the ringing of the chapel bell. I could tell they were young because their pelts were still very sleek and their tails small. The largest, I shall call the older, and he was very set upon his business rifling through the lawn for his meal. The youngest was the smallest, a runt. She rolled in the grass at the base of the faced tree and leaped when birds flew too near.
The middle squirrel was an unfortunate. His right hind leg was being held upward close to his body and unused as he hobbled by his siblings. It was injured, not a birth defect because even from my spot under an adjacent tree it looked pink. What was remarkable is that this one was still able to climb bark just fine while he let his leg dangle at his side and partially behind. He makes do. Mayube it was an accident with a lawnmower... a fall... getting caught in a trap or by a dog or a cat.
They could be feasting on anything in the grass, but upon a closer inspection I realized they were eating helicopter seeds -the pinwheels that maple trees drop that I used to split with my thumbnail and wear on my nose as a child.
None of these three came close to me, though once in awhile they would cant their head or pause their nibbling at the greenness inside those maple seeds.
They freeze when others walk by on their cell phones, but as long as I remain stationary, they do not see me as a threat... even the injured and slightly defensive middle squirrel.
What was particularly alarming was the fact that in observing these rodents, I did not realize there was an adult male squirrel behind me foraging in the grass. I don't know who was more startled when I turned because I heard something behind my head. I think it was him because he leaped and spun his tail in a whirlwind fashion as he sprung towards a tree. I dare say I made more noise than him in his escape as I laughed at how startled I'd become. After we both recovered our whits, he returned to the base of the tree to bid me a proper welcome to his realm, and he continued to nibble at the maple seeds that the others were devouring as well.
I need to train my yard squirrels to eat maple seeds and leave my tulip bulbs alone.
Beneath it, five baby squirrels had decided to linger for their evening meal. Two wandered and leaped farther down the hill so that I could not see, but three remained close to me, unflinching to my movement and the ringing of the chapel bell. I could tell they were young because their pelts were still very sleek and their tails small. The largest, I shall call the older, and he was very set upon his business rifling through the lawn for his meal. The youngest was the smallest, a runt. She rolled in the grass at the base of the faced tree and leaped when birds flew too near.
The middle squirrel was an unfortunate. His right hind leg was being held upward close to his body and unused as he hobbled by his siblings. It was injured, not a birth defect because even from my spot under an adjacent tree it looked pink. What was remarkable is that this one was still able to climb bark just fine while he let his leg dangle at his side and partially behind. He makes do. Mayube it was an accident with a lawnmower... a fall... getting caught in a trap or by a dog or a cat.
They could be feasting on anything in the grass, but upon a closer inspection I realized they were eating helicopter seeds -the pinwheels that maple trees drop that I used to split with my thumbnail and wear on my nose as a child.
None of these three came close to me, though once in awhile they would cant their head or pause their nibbling at the greenness inside those maple seeds.
They freeze when others walk by on their cell phones, but as long as I remain stationary, they do not see me as a threat... even the injured and slightly defensive middle squirrel.
What was particularly alarming was the fact that in observing these rodents, I did not realize there was an adult male squirrel behind me foraging in the grass. I don't know who was more startled when I turned because I heard something behind my head. I think it was him because he leaped and spun his tail in a whirlwind fashion as he sprung towards a tree. I dare say I made more noise than him in his escape as I laughed at how startled I'd become. After we both recovered our whits, he returned to the base of the tree to bid me a proper welcome to his realm, and he continued to nibble at the maple seeds that the others were devouring as well.
I need to train my yard squirrels to eat maple seeds and leave my tulip bulbs alone.
Teaching Entemology
My classroom is a haven for insects. I'm convinced that they must singularly seek my picture windows and find a way into the cinderblock walls and linoleum floor. I'm not entirely certain as to why.
The year inevitably starts with an influx of lady bugs in the fall. They are not the rare orange kind or the ones with but a few spots, just average lady bugs. There are not hundreds, but it's usually an infiltration of say 30 or 40 fluttering around my room, causing the occasional squeel or disruption. Invetiably, they die in the room, turning my flourescent light fixtures into their sarcophogus, casting shadowy dark spots through the clear plastic.
Occasionally, I get a wasp's nest. Usually, this means one or two wasps inhibit me from opening the windows. The wasps are trapped between the screen and the fold out glass so that we may observe them as they develop. It's usually only a few, and they're the spindly, almost spidery looking wasps that look like they must have some thin and terrible stinger to assault me with.
At the end of the school year, as I dust shelves and move books, I discover the dried bodies of flies, an occasional moth and spider, and leftover lady bugs from last fall. An entemologist would be able to track the course of the year from the insect bodies that are threatening my happily walled off little nook in the school district.
I'm just wondering when the influx will stop, or at least, I hope someone cleans my light fixtures this summer.
The year inevitably starts with an influx of lady bugs in the fall. They are not the rare orange kind or the ones with but a few spots, just average lady bugs. There are not hundreds, but it's usually an infiltration of say 30 or 40 fluttering around my room, causing the occasional squeel or disruption. Invetiably, they die in the room, turning my flourescent light fixtures into their sarcophogus, casting shadowy dark spots through the clear plastic.
Occasionally, I get a wasp's nest. Usually, this means one or two wasps inhibit me from opening the windows. The wasps are trapped between the screen and the fold out glass so that we may observe them as they develop. It's usually only a few, and they're the spindly, almost spidery looking wasps that look like they must have some thin and terrible stinger to assault me with.
At the end of the school year, as I dust shelves and move books, I discover the dried bodies of flies, an occasional moth and spider, and leftover lady bugs from last fall. An entemologist would be able to track the course of the year from the insect bodies that are threatening my happily walled off little nook in the school district.
I'm just wondering when the influx will stop, or at least, I hope someone cleans my light fixtures this summer.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Class One
In response to selected readings from Tuesday May 25th:
We can only ever compare nature to self. It is the human existence which we compare to nature. It is the only thing that is relative because we cannot understand nature in its entirety. The words that Nelson, Lane, Muir, and others choose all have human qualities – “untroubled sounds,” ”boughs reach out and encircle me,” “this forest of eyes.” “pines six feet in diameter bending like grasses,” “Their trees surround you, loom over you, press in from all sides,” etc. There are other similarities too… the use of limbs to describe branches, for instance. We must place that which is us…which is human upon that which surrounds us and cannot be classified as human.
Why a blog?
Why can't I just submit my journals on paper like everyone else?
Part of doing nature writing should involve some sort of respect of nature. In an effort to do this properly, I will be posting my journal online and doing all the writing digitally. This doesn't mean the entire project cannot be printed later, but it does mean that I'm not using paper to bring my ideas together, and I am therefore conserving resources which is directly affecting the natural world I'm going to write about.
Also, as I plan to be spending a lot of my time in the summer outside doing the reading and the writing, I'm hoping to include some digital photos of the very experiences I'm writing about. My boyfriend is training to backpack Glacier National Park in Montana in the fall, so I will be spending some weekends hiking. I'm hoping the battery on my little netbook can make an entry or two from the Appalachian Trail (to be posted after I return to the grid, so to speak).
Oh... and the third reason is the fact that my handwriting is horrid.
Part of doing nature writing should involve some sort of respect of nature. In an effort to do this properly, I will be posting my journal online and doing all the writing digitally. This doesn't mean the entire project cannot be printed later, but it does mean that I'm not using paper to bring my ideas together, and I am therefore conserving resources which is directly affecting the natural world I'm going to write about.
Also, as I plan to be spending a lot of my time in the summer outside doing the reading and the writing, I'm hoping to include some digital photos of the very experiences I'm writing about. My boyfriend is training to backpack Glacier National Park in Montana in the fall, so I will be spending some weekends hiking. I'm hoping the battery on my little netbook can make an entry or two from the Appalachian Trail (to be posted after I return to the grid, so to speak).
Oh... and the third reason is the fact that my handwriting is horrid.
What's in a name?
J. R. R. Tolkien has a wonderful obsession with nature as do many fantasy writers. A large number of his characters are based in the natural world or some creation of it. An excellent example of this are the Ents, depicted as talking tree-like creatures that take the shape of the type of tree for which they care. One of the peculiarities of the Ents are the fact that the only ones in Tolkien's works are all males. Treebeard, one of the main Ents in Tolkien's trilogy, remarks that the Ents do not know where they left the Entwives. Thus, the Entwives are lost to Tolkien's Middle Earth.
In the spirit of the Entwives, I'm going to take some time to get lost in nature for the semester. Hopefully, unlike the Entwives, I won't be entirely misplaced in this realm.
In the spirit of the Entwives, I'm going to take some time to get lost in nature for the semester. Hopefully, unlike the Entwives, I won't be entirely misplaced in this realm.
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