Day 45: fetidly macabre

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OUR TOP STORY TONIGHT!

foul smelling flower

Quarantine Day 45: You are staying at home maintaining your social distancing. That's good. And we are exploring the woods, creeks, soggy bottoms and vacant lots to see where nature is happening.

Pawpaw is also in bloom. Its blossoms have an odd color, one reminiscent of meat past its prime. But in this case, the tree's fetid flowers (also known as carrion flowers) have an odor to match. They smell foul, something like rotting meat. This is because pawpaws and other plants with such smelly blooms employ the malodorous strategy to attract a certain kind of discriminating insect. They are pollinated by blowflies or other scavenging flies and beetles.

It rained heavily this afternoon. The day ended wet and misty. Pawpaws like to grow near murky water along creeks, we thought it might be appropriate to end with something from the Master of the Macabre himself:

“A sombre yet beautiful and peaceful gloom here pervaded all things ... the shade of the trees fell heavily upon the water, and seemed to bury itself therein, impregnating the depths of the element with darkness."*

Ob-la-da, ob-la-da.

* From "The Island of the Fay” by Edgar Allen Poe.

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sunflower fields forever

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Ijams Hiking Club sunning it

Photo by Bari Gerbig

A warm, or should I say "hot summer sun," thank you to all who joined me today for the July hike of the month. 

Sun. Sun. Sun. Everywhere suns.

"Let me take you down...bum, bum, bum...to sunflower fields" Today, we explored trails (Dozer, Argus, Wyatt Way, Wild Briar, Auggie's Run, Will Skelton) at Forks of the River WMA and its five fields planted with sunflowers east of Ijams, all part of the Knoxville Urban Wilderness: South Loop.

The Ijams Hiking Club ventures forth the second Saturday of every month, so join us for informative camaraderie!

For those wanting a checklist of all the trails in the Knox Urban Wilderness click: gotta record it.

And thank you Eric Johnson for planning our route.

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brilliance

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If you are out and about, there’s a large field of sunflowers, or as the French say "la tournesol," although the meadow loving flowers are decidedly American, growing at Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area one mile east of Ijams Nature Center in South Knoxville. If it's out of your way, it's worth the trip.

The bright yellow flowers are at their peak. They’re tall, some would say stately, meeting you eye-to-eye with their unabashed brilliance. Thousands of sunny faces. TWRA planted the field to provide food for wildlife, especially doves. The sustenance the sunflowers provide we humans is more ethereal, nourishment for the soul, not the belly.

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peenting time

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With timberdoodles, it's a matter of being in the right place at the right time. And at this particular time of the year, at twilight, the male woodcocks, a.k.a. “bogsuckers"—as the species was called during Audubon’s day—begin their courtship displays and "peent" calls. (If you are a female woodcock, it speaks to you. Trust me.)

Tomorrow evening, join me for a muddy walk to Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area to search for American woodcocks. In years past, we have been able to slowly creep through the dry grasses to be within only a few feet of the ardent crooners. We could see them flying, although with the fading light not that clearly. It's remarkable how they practically disappeared, right before your very eyes. Poof!

This bird is quirky!

Audubon wrote that American woodcocks favored “Rivulets that run through thickets, and of which the margins are muddy or composed of oozy ground.”
 

Ooozy ground, indeed! Seeing such an odd little bird in such an out of the way location makes you wonder: Just what else is out there peenting in the night?

To sign up for our end-of-day adventure, call (865) 577-4717, ext. 110. Dress for muddy conditions! And keep your fingers crossed that we can find one of these odd things in the half-light of a dying day.

- American woodcock by John James Audubon, "The Birds of America" Plate #268


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Tour de Fleur: Forks of the River

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July Tour de Fleurers

Special thanks to all the folks that attended this month's Tour de Fleur along the Will Skelton Greenway at Forks of the River WMA. The fields of sunflowers did not disappoint. Spectacular once again this year! Although you might think you are in the province of Provence in the south of France, a sunny location made famous by the sunflower paintings of Vincent van Gogh, you're here in East Tennessee. Giant sunflowers are actually native to America. 

Hats off to Kathleen Gibi, with the City of Knoxville parks and rec, and Ellen Blasius with Knox County parks and rec for organizing the outing.

Along the way we also heard common yellowthroats, yellow-breasted chats, field sparrows and indigo buntings singing, as well as Robinson's, swamp and scissor-grinder cicadas "zeering" their buzzy songs in the trees. 

Ahhhh summer!

Sunflower (Helianthus annuus)

Other wildflowers found along the way.

Common mullein

Sow thistle

Chicory 

Garden Coreopsis

Partridge pea

Horse nettle

Hedge nettle

Queen Anne's lace

White avens

Wood sorrel

St. John's wort

Crown-beard

Asian dayflower

Kathleen Gibi and Ellen Blasius

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Tour de Fleur: Sunflowers

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Join Kathleen Gibi, with the City of Knoxville parks and rec, and Ellen Blasius with Knox County parks and rec and myself for this month's Tour de Fleur: Sunflower Walk along the Will Skeleton Greenway to Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area.

TWRA manages the 400+ acre parcel of land for wildlife. They have planted acres of sunflowers reminiscent of a canvas by Vincent van Gogh.  

We'll meet at Ijams Saturday morning, July 9 at 10 a.m. and ride a bus out to the location in South Knoxville on the French Broad River. 

Other July flowers of note blooming along the way are chicory, garden coreopsis, Queen Anne's lace, mullien and trumpet creeper, but it's the spectacular fields of sunflowers that will make the walk memorable. 

Birds we are likely to hear are common yellowthroat, yellow breasted chat and indigo bunting.

This is a great outing along an often overlooked greenway.

Kathleen Gibi and Ellen Blasius

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in the boggy moment

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If you follow the philosophy espoused by Ralph Waldo Emerson, you know to live in the moment. The past is past, forget it; it's unfixable. The future is unknowable, you can loosely plan for it but it's a crapshoot, so don't fret it. The here and now, this very moment, this instant, this nanosecond, is all that truly matters. It is what's real, vibrant, alive, fresh, green, happening, etc. etc. You get the idea.

True joy can only be found in the "moment."

Last night my fellow bog-sloggers and I experienced a purely perfect natural moment. An American woodcock performed his courtship display, his ardent "peenting" song, right on schedule, right on the same out-of-the-way, in-the-middle-of-nowhere (forgive my own ardent use of hyphens) sodden piece of terra firma as last year, his singing ground. Again the dude abides.

And our group was hidden in the cedars surrounding him to watch it all happen. He seemed oblivious of his voyeurs. He was crooning for a female, a momentary partner to share his lust for life. If he knew we were there, he simply did not care. For he was living in the moment as were we all.

It was a good time. In the moment.

Special thanks to Ijamsians Jen and Wayne Roder, Emily and Than Boves for sharing the moment with me. (They are that smiling foursome on the right.)

- Pictured above: the hardy bog-slogging, Ijams' woodcock walkers of 2011.

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woodcock display

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Last evening, while scouting out for woodcocks in preparation for tonight's annual Ijams' Woodcock Walk to Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area, I almost stepped on one. Not a good thing if you are the one on the receiving end of the stepping. It was the closest I've been able to position myself to date.

I'm always pleasantly surprised that the nondescript damp location that Peg Beute and I discovered many years ago by complete happenstance, is still such a favored display ground for the chunky ground birds. I was so close, I could almost smell the earthworms on the timberdoodle's breath.

If you'd like to see if we can do it again, then join Emily and Than Boves and myself for tonight's foray into the muddy wetland. To sign up, call Sheila at 577-4717, ext. 10.

If you sign up, make sure you dress for muddy conditions. Muddy!

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dove feet

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Dove hunting season in Tennessee began a few days ago. I'll avoid Forks of the River, at least until the early zeal settles down and the shooting stops or all the doves move down to Ijams, a wildlife sanctuary.

The two mourning doves in the photo seemed quite content to be there.

I have nothing against hunters, my father was one, but I'm not sure how you could kill something with such pretty feet. What color is that? The field guides say they have reddish-pink feet but as an artist I wasn't quite satisfied with that descriptor. If I were to paint a mourning dove, what color would I choose?

I went on-line and did some research. I think the shade of red that is the closest match is alizarin crimson. What do you think?

The ancient Egyptians once fabricated the color by crushing the root of a rose madder plant. They used the resulting powder in paints and textiles dyes. If the pyramid-builders revered the color, I can only assume they would have liked mourning doves as well, or at least, their pretty feet.




Alizarin crimson




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cobblerless

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Just in case this post becomes a Hollywood movie, let's call it "Cobblerless in Seattle." Of course, I've never been to that western city or have any idea even if they eat cobbler there. (I think they drink a lot of coffee while watching it rain. And rain, or the lack of such, is at the root of this entry.)

June was the hottest, and perhaps the driest on record. The weather affected this year's blackberry crop. The few scattered rains of July came too late, most of the berries that I've found the past four weeks have been small and non-juicy.

Blackberries—and I'm not talking about those devices you carry in your hand and text message your mom with—are odd sorts of plants. They fall in an in-between category botanists label as "brambles," being neither a shrub nor a herbaceous non-woody plant. There are also many different types of brambles. In 1960, UT's Dr. Aaron Sharp identified 30 species of blackberries, dewberries and raspberries found in the state of Tennessee alone.

Although the root is a perennial, the blackberry canes themselves last two years. The flowers and fruit grow on the second-year canes which die back in the fall. It has recently been discovered that blackberries are high in antioxidants, as well as being loaded with vitamins A and C.

But this year, they do not seem to be loaded with juicy flavor. I haven't found enough to make a descent cobbler, so if anyone has a spare cobbler they are not using, please let me know.

Until then, I remain cobberless.


- Photo taken at Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area.

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lethal beaked

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It must be difficult to go through life with a name like "assassin bug." Most in that profession prefer to keep a low profile. Imagine being at a garden party and being introduced to a ladybug as an assassin. That would surely kill any chance of a meaningful relationship.

Members of the Hemiptera order of insects—the true bugs—assassin bugs lie in wait. "They use the long rostrum [beaklike extension] to inject a lethal saliva that liquefies the insides of the prey, which are then sucked out. The saliva is commonly effective at killing substantially larger prey than the bug itself."

Needless to say, I kept my distance.

- Photo taken at Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area

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sunny fields

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Cindy Spangler e-mailed me. She wondered: were the fields of sunflowers blooming at Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area?

And, yes indeed, they are. TWRA didn't seem to plant as many fields as they have in the past. But the one beside the Will Skelton Greenway at mile marker 2.75 is just beginning to reach full flower.

I took the above photo Wednesday after work. I also heard one white-eyed vireo and a lone common yellowthroat, but the two species still singing often and loud were indigo buntings and field sparrows. Perhaps the latter simply enjoyed the sunflowers, and was simply singing an "Ode to Joy."

And who could blame it?

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singing ground?

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A sure sign that spring is on the way: when the birds get frisky. But their hormones often put them in harm's way.

American woodcocks are shy worm-eating birds that hide on the ground. They're short, chunky woodland sandpipers with enormously long bills for probing the mud. But despite the odd appearance, it's practically impossible to find one. Their camouflage is too perfect. The problem is: how do the male woodcocks find the females and vice-versa.

At this time of the year, at twilight, the males perform an elaborate display to draw attention to themselves. The display lasts about 20 minutes, and their stage is called a "singing ground." But if the female woodcocks can find them, so can predators. And even curious humans.

Last night, we led a group of Ijams visitors in search of a male woodcock at the 400-acre Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area. The trick is being in the right place at the right time. But where? Four hundred acres is a sizable search site.

Woodcocks like old clearings, former farmland that's becoming wooded once again. Ten years ago we discovered a nondescript singing ground, and for the tenth year in a row it proved to be spot on. At 6:54 p.m., with the sun vanquished below the horizon and darkness slipping into our location, we were hidden in the bushes, roughly fifteen feet from where the chunky ground-bird began its performance. "Peent. Peent. Peent. Peent."

Thanks to all. The annual Ijams' Woodcock Walk is my unofficial kickoff to spring. We'll do it again. Same time, same place next year.



Group in search of a singing ground.

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looking back 7

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Ten favorite photos of 2009 in chronological order, number 7:

The sunflowers at Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area were a highlight of June and July. I took lots of photos but this wilting one came near the end of their run.

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cockle bird

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It is always difficult for me to pass a common cocklebur and not think of the extinct Carolina parakeet. On the surface, the two species—one a bristle-seeded plant, the other the most colorful bird to ever fly through our skies—seem to have little in common. But the two are inexplicably linked because the spiky plant’s seeds were reportedly the birds’ favorite food. Go figure. But we all have to eat something.

Cocklebur invades farmlands and can be poisonous to livestock, including horses, cattle, and sheep. “Some domestic animals will avoid consuming the plant if other forage is present, but less discriminating animals, such as pigs, will consume the plants and then sicken and die,” reports Wiki. Poor pigs! And the seeds are the most toxic parts but the parakeets fed on them with no ill effect, yet they are the ones now extinct. But, something else did them in, not the cocklebur.

I wrote about the colorful member of the parrot family in my book Natural Histories.




- Photo of cocklebur taken along the Will Skelton Greenway at Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area.

- Painting of Carolina parakeets on cocklebur by John James Audubon.

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July's passing

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July. July. July. It's come, and it's gone.

I associate sunflowers with sunny July and it's hard to see their season come and go as well.

fireworks

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And now a short post to go with yesterday's ramble, an explosion of natural fireworks to celebrate the holiday weekend.

This one is for Kim from North Carolina. She was walking her three black dogs at Forks of the River. I encountered her near one of the bright yellow fields of sunflowers and she said, "They're beautiful. I wish I had a camera."

"Well I do," I replied. "I'll take a photo for you."

And here it is.

Every year the TWRA personnel that manage the 400-acre site in South Knoxville plant the fields of sunflowers for wildlife, but it's okay if we enjoy them too.

kabloom

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Forgive me.

But I feel like waxing philosophic when I should probably be waxing the kitchen floor. But it is a holiday! And this is about catching your breath, becoming aware of your surroundings and taking the time to appreciate life, what we have, the natural world around us, even in the city. Especially in the city.

It's about stopping to smell the metaphorical roses, or better still, the real roses. I post a lot about flowers because I am constantly taken aback by their beauty and variety of form. Their sculpture, even knowing that their form follows function, i.e. to attract pollinators. They are not here for us to appreciate; they're here to be alluring to bugs. We're a nonstarter, a flash in the pan.

Flowering plants have been on this earth for at least 125 million years. (We've only been around about two million and most of that we were not even wearing pants.) Estimates vary but there are between 250,000 and 400,000 species of flowering plants around the planet. Seeing them all would take multiple lifetimes, which we do not have. We only have one, so we need to pack as much awareness into it as we possibly can.

Of late I have been paying particular attention to nascent flowers. Newbies. Infants. Like a new father standing in the maternity ward of a hospital, made goggle-eyed by the newborn babies lying in clusters just beyond the protective glass, I have been cooing natal blooms, flowers just beginning to unfurl. And what I have discovered is, yet more beauty: softness, texture, intricacy, complexity, pattern, color, grace.

Now, here we have a holiday. Independence Day. So be independent. Why don't you forgo the crowd, the loud, smoky fireworks. Instead, turn on the stereo, put in the Peer Gynt Suite by Edvard Grieg, listen to the opening movement and then go outside and enjoy a "kablooming" flower instead?

Happy holiday. Peace be with you.

For other floral newbies go to: queen and spiny.

- Photo of a newborn sunflower taken at Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area

I am air

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“I copy out mountains, rivers, clouds.
I take my pen from pocket. I note down
a bird in its rising
or a spider in its little silkworks.
Nothing else crosses my mind. I am air,
clear air, where the wheat is waving,
where a bird's flight moves me, the uncertain
fall of a leaf, the globular
eye of a fish unmoving in the lake,
the statues sailing in the clouds,
the intricate variations of the rain.

Nothing else crosses my mind except
the transparency of summer. I sing only of the wind,
and history passes in its carriage,
collecting its shrouds and medals,
and passes, and all I feel is rivers.
I stay alone with the spring.”

-From “Pastoral” by Nobel Prize winning Chilean poet Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)


Thank you, Karen Suzy

Photo taken at Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area

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tanagers delight

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We had a wonderful turnout for an early morning bird walk at Ijams Nature Center yesterday. Thank you! After meeting at the Visitor Center our group drove to Forks of the River Wildlife Management Area, 400-plus acres one-half mile east of Ijams.

Although it's a bit late in the season, we were looking for some of the summer species that might still be actively singing: indigo buntings, common yellowthroats, yellow-breasted chats, white-eyed vireos, yellow-billed cuckoos, and found all but the cuckoo.

But, as is often the case, the birds that delighted us the most were ones we didn't expect to see: a pair of summer tanagers. Ron, one of the group members with an excellent eye for birds, was the first to find them. We got much better looks at the yellowish female, which perched in the open preening for a long time, but we did get a brief glimpse of a male.

Known as the "summer redbirds" these tanagers are found all across the state during the warm, nesting season, but they are far more abundant in Middle and West Tennessee. Although their preferred habitat is wooded lowlands with open spaces, here in the valley they are far less common. In the Volunteer State, you are most likely to find them along the Western Highland Rim, roughly halfway between Nashville and Memphis.

Also, special thanks to Mary, who took a taxi to be with our group. She has an excellent ear for both bird and insect song.

- Special thanks also goes to Charles (Chuck) Nicholson. His "Atlas of the Breeding Birds of Tennessee" published by UT Press in 1997 is an indispensable reference to the nesting birds of our state.

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