The first hike of spring

It's getting to be that time of year when this blog will start to resemble a birding guide. I just looked back through some of our more recent exploits/posts and realized that pretty much all of them were outside (finally!) and bird related. Other bits and pieces of nature will edge in as they appear, too, but right now the only real signs of life out there are the birds flitting through the still leafless trees.

Spring is a great time for birding, especially here in Michigan. It's this time of year that the birds are giving up their winter habits and are getting frantic about territory, nests, and mates. For some species that means long migrations, and over the next couple of months we'll be seeing birds return to our area from their winter homes, and we'll also get our one chance to see all those species who are just passing through on their trips farther north.

Back in January Calvin and I started a new species list, keeping track of "first sightings of the year" by date. So far our list includes only 18 species, but it's growing more rapidly now. Just this weekend we were able to add the return of Killdeer and Sandhill Cranes to our neighborhood.

And, inadvertently, we added another tradition or routine to our busy lives. Over the past week, with the return of our neighborhood path thanks to melting temperatures, we were getting out almost every day for short walks—short because we were fighting off colds. But this weekend we were feeling more sprightly, and we resolved to visit one of our favorite hiking spots for the first time this year. The morning was dreary and dull, but the minute we got in the car the sun came out as if to give us further encouragement. The air was still chilly and there were still patches of snow and ice. The forest seemed largely to be still asleep, but as we walked we started to notice just a few signs of life: that patch over there was little greener than its drab surroundings, and the grass at the river's edge was already perking up. And if the tulips that are just pushing their way up in our front yard weren't evidence enough, the frenetic bird activity deep in the woods was definitely another sure sign. Such a cacophony, such a fluttering, such a frenzy. We didn't add any species to our list, but we had such a great time looking for life that we decided to come back next week to look for progress.

And then we realized that we had taken our first trip back into those woods on the first Saturday of spring, just one day after the equinox. That settled it. This will be our new science and nature project for the year: we will visit these woods once a week for the next year, charting her changes. It's a rather large undertaking, but what a great plan it is, and what a splendid accomplishment it would be. It's spring, after all! Time to think big!

Redbellied Woodpecker

Looking for green

The bluebird of happiness looks kind of grouchy

Here we decided the deer have been having forest tea parties. "Clean cups, clean cups, move down, move down, move down!"

Tufted Titmouse

Cali part 5: Sequoia and Kings Canyon

Yosemite was definitely beautiful, but I think for me Kings Canyon surpassed it. Less traveled and certainly more rural, the drive into Kings Canyon is stunning and precarious. It's also a road to nowhere, literally to "Trail's End", and which point all travelers must turn around and head back over the same treacherous thirteen miles they drove on their way in; Thirteen mile that took over an hour to traverse the first time and will certainly take equally long on the way back, if not more so since now the trip is mostly on the outer lane, the one that seems to be only inches from a catastrophic drop.

It's an amazing and completely worthwhile trip.

On this final day for the parks we saw General Grant and General Sherman (the two biggest trees ever), we drove into and out of the stunning Kings Canyon, and straight through Sequoia in a setting fall sun.

We also saw a bear. A real, honest-to-goodness, big black bear.

He was beautiful.

The trees...they're big.

Kings Canyon: the pictures don't do it justice.

That's our road way down there...

...and way down there, too...

...and that's our road again, hanging precariously off the side of that mountain...

Sequoias are surprisingly spongy on the outside

I have no photographic evidence, but imagine a bear here...

Junior naturalist

Our county parks program is wonderful. I've bragged about it before, but I'll brag again. I think one of the best things about the program, if it's not the fact that it's free or offers so many enriching opportunities, is that the naturalists who lead the events don't talk down to the kids. Instead, they expect great things from the little ones, and most often they are right on the mark. Kids are little sponges, something we all know, but as much as they absorb every little conversation that we didn't want them to hear in the first place (and then proceed to repeat them at inopportune times), they seem especially in tune with the natural world. Naturally.

Yesterday was the final Junior Naturalists summer class. It was an exploration of Michigan habitats—forests, prairies, wetlands. We walked through examples of each, identifying critters and plants. Calvin came home with a piece of paper certifying his abilities as a junior naturalist, but I think he was actually more excited about the hours we spent at the splash park afterwards than he was about the piece of paper. Or the splash park after, and the frog we found during the program.

Summer

Camping 2014

There are few places I love as much as my home state. It has its ups and downs, and of course there are lots of great places to visit in the country and the wider world, but here we are surrounded by a simple, quiet, understated beauty that cannot be matched. Water, water everywhere; soft, white, sandy beaches; majestic trees. The wildlife is plentiful and mainly friendly (as our new neighbors who came from Alabama like to put it, there really isn't much here that can kill you). Brilliant sun in the summers, sparkling snow, when we're lucky, in the winters. The Pure Michigan campaign, now in its eighth year, really nailed it on the head. I'm sure there are plenty of people itching to get out of dodge, but we truly love our home, and we do our best every year—especially every summer—to take advantage of the beauty around us, and not take it for granted.

Last weekend was our annual camping trip with our good friends who have a daughter exactly two days older than Calvin. We started this tradition when the kiddos were just 3. That first year we packed up all our gear (which thankfully was limited at the time) and drove to a site less than an hour away, figuring that if the trip was a complete bust we could still make it home in time for some decent sleep. But it was a big hit—really big—and in the years since we've upped our game to a five hour drive and four nights away.

We feel like regulars now at our favorite campground. This is drive up camping (not like our backpacking trip last year), and our favorite two sites have a lake view and easy access to the beach, the water pump, and the bathroom without being right in the middle of camp traffic. They also come with a resident Thirteen Lined Ground Squirrel. During the day we watch him scurry around, scoping out our contributions to his layout, at dusk we sit around the campfire waiting for the bats emerge, and in the cool mornings we lean back in our chairs and sip hot coffee while listening to the loons.

In all these years, this was our first trip that was less than ideal weather-wise. We arrived Friday afternoon, a day ahead of our companions, and enjoyed a beautiful evening on the lake after setting up camp. The rain storms held off until about four in the morning, when wind, thunder, and a driving rain woke us in the hours before dawn. Or the wake up call might have been the campers in the tent behind us who were screaming, and giggling, at finding themselves in a not-so-weather-proof tent.

By the time we got up in the morning the rain had passed, leaving cool, damp air and a chilly wind behind. While our neighbors went about stuffing all their possessions into garbage bags in preparation for a trip to the laundromat, we had coffee and cereal and planned a morning hike. Jon discovered a point labeled Mt. Nebo on the trail map, and that's where we headed because...well...because Mt. Nebo. The four mile hike was wonderful. Possibly my favorite part of the whole trip. We found birds, toads, frogs, bugs, and mosquitoes, and the cooler air was perfect for the exercise. Back at camp we fired up the stove for a sausage and pancakes lunch and watched the sun burn off the remaining mist and clouds. By the time our friends arrived the air was warm enough to play a bit on the beach before assembling chicken fajita foil packets to cook around the fire.

Our second night was much quieter, and our second full day more eventful, our friends having arrived. Since it was still too chilly for swimming (a situation that remained in effect the whole trip), we instead went into town for putt putt golf, ice cream, and sweat shirt shopping (the funny thing about kids is that they outgrow their warm clothes every year). Back at camp—sand play on a sunny beach followed by dinner. One of the ways that I can tell we've improved our camping skills over the years is our culinary prowess at the campfire. Dinner number two for us was corn and steak.

On Monday we ate cold breakfasts, packed lunches, and headed over the bridge into the U.P. to see the Soo Locks up close. We were fortunate enough to see an osprey, too, and on the way home we stopped at Castle Rock—our tourist trap for the year. Back at camp it was still too chilly for the beach, so we spent more time with ice cream in town and outfit each of us with new shirts (why should the kids have all the fun!) before heading back. When we got back our tent neighbors were packing up and heading out. The forecast was promising heavy rain and storms in the middle of the night and on into the next morning. Since it was our last night, we decided to the same—the air wasn't getting any warmer, and the idea of having to pack up in a pouring rain was less than desirable. So we started a fire with our remaining wood and packed up while the kids played, then ate one final meal and roasted one final dessert. And would you believe it, the rain started just as we climbed into our cars to head south.

So we spent our final night of the trip in a Holiday Inn Express, and our final morning swimming in their pool instead of the lake, but at least we got some swimming in.

And because we had extra time on our final day—no packing up to do and we were already part way home—Jon and Calvin and I decided to make the most of our trip home and visit a zoo we'd never seen. Scattered storms blanketed most of the state, and we were driving in and out of rain the whole way, but when we got to Potter Park Zoo (in Lansing), the radar said we had about 20 minutes before the next storm hit. It's a small zoo, and we made a dash around all of the outdoor exhibits, then broke out our ponchos to go from building to building, taking in the indoor exhibits. It worked out perfectly, even if we were a little wet, but we'll have to go back sometime because we never did get to see the baby moose, our main reason for stopping.

Now we're home, and with rain still dotting the landscape in unpredictable patterns, all our camping gear is spread out in the garage, waiting for a dry enough day that we can set it up and clean it out well for the year. It's slowly dissipating, but it makes the garage and laundry room smell like camp—wood smoke and pine—making me already eager for next year.