Nature's Call

Making an impression

Quick! Name the leaves shown above.

If you said, "Pretty," it works for me. (They are mostly maple, for those you who simply have to know such things.)

For those who live in the Intermountain West -- or anyplace in which the leaves turn crimson, gold, bronze and orange in autumn -- fallen leaves are about the best part of the season.  They not only are brilliant and beautiful to behold, but they also smell pungent and clean and make a lovely crunching sound when you walk on them.

Now is the perfect time to take a walk and make something to remind you of autumn all year long.  When was the last time you made a leaf rubbing?  If your answer starts with "19..." then it has been far too long.

Grab some white paper -- that stuff from your printer will do -- a handful of your kids' crayons (Oh, all right. Take the children along, too), and head out to your back yard or favorite trail or park.  Collect a few leaves and start rubbing. Make designs by overlapping the leaves and using different colors. Put the date and location of the rubbing in a lower corner in neat print or script. 

Then laminate the results for some cool keepsakes. Rubbings on legal-size paper can become place mats. Rubbings on 3-by-3-inch sheets can be made into coasters or Christmas ornaments. Rubbings also can be done on Velum paper or similarly thin (but sturdy) paper, and affixed to blank note cards for some custom greeting cards for fall or even Christmas.

Of course, the best part about it is that you will be outdoors enjoying the crisp fall weather with your family and friends (the leaves). It only lasts a few weeks so don't wait.  The laundry, dishes, dusting and, yes, the raking will still be there when you get back.

When your best bird has prickles

I thought seeing 19 bald eagles would be the highlight of our bird-watching venture today -- until I saw the porcupines.

They are pictured above, resting in the thick limbs of a Russian olive tree. (I am aware that, from this perspective, they look like a couple of cheap wigs left over from a New Year's Eve bash gone awry. Next time, you get closer with the camera, and I'll watch.)

We spotted them while roaming Antelope Island State Park with the local Audubon Society for the last of this season's Christmas bird counts. Audubon groups across the country take to the fields, marshes and parks of their local communities throughout the month of December to identify and count birds.

It is based solely on volunteer birders whose abilities range from expert to beginner. So some would argue that it probably is not the most scientific tally available. But the surveys date back about 100 years in some regions, and, over time, that kind of information can indicate trends -- such as occurrences of rare species or changes in habitat and populations of common birds, which often are brought about by suburban sprawl and development.

Participating in these counts not only is a great way to learn more about birds, but also is a terrific way to spend some time outdoors with a purpose. The latter is very important, for the most wondrous sights on any hike or scenic walk are those we discover by accident while looking for something else.

For example, while searching for birds tucked in the towering cattails (good) and feathery phragmites (bad) that bordered a small pond today, we found tracks made by coyote, fox, small game birds and rabbits, along with the feathered remains of what looked to be a quail that had recently made someone a hearty lunch.

Oh, yeah -- and we saw a bunch of red-wing blackbirds and a couple of magpies.

But it was on our return trip that we stopped to gaze upon the porcupines sleeping in the olive tree. We were helping our party's leader look for a northern shrike, which he had hoped to see but hadn't. In focusing our gaze upon the trees along the side of the road, we saw what I thought were two large nests or balls of twigs and leaves. (As one who has mistaken about 300 clumps of leaves for birds in this season's counts, I was not about to say anything about these dark spots in the tree.)

"Those are porcupines," our fellow birder said. He and the other two people in our group waited patiently while I trudged through the snow to the edge of the gully where the olive tree stood and snapped a few pictures.

While I was shooting, guess what landed atop a nearby tree?

The northern shrike.

If that turn of events doesn't strike you as funny, the appearance of a porcupine certainly would. One of them raised its head momentarily revealing a creature that looks as if Tina Turner's hair stylist had a hand in its creation.

Porcupines are plant-eaters (herbivores) that sleep in rocky or brushy dens on the ground or sleep in trees. The choice depends on the amount of cover available on the ground and the number of predators in the area.

In the Great Basin region that encompasses Utah and Nevada, porcupines often take refuge in trees. Given the number of coyote and fox tracks I saw today, I cannot blame these two for choosing the penthouse option. According to other members of our group porcupines are a common sight during the Christmas counts.

I suppose "common" depends on one's point of view. As we emerged from a cattail forest earlier that day, one of the new birders asked me, "What's the rarest bird you've ever seen?"

Tough question. My so-called "life list" names fewer than 200 species, none of which are particularly rare. For me, "rare" can mean I recall seeing it once before and can identify it. "Rare" also describes what birds were doing when I saw them -- such as the pair of bald eagle parents teaching their youngster how to hunt in a secluded cove in Grand Teton National Park late last summer.

"What's the rarest bird you've ever seen?" If he had asked me 35 minutes later I could have told him.

Porcupines.

A nature 'staycation'

As the economy wreaks havoc on many families' summer vacations, it doesn't hurt to have a backup plan. And with a little creativity staying home can be almost as fun as going somewhere.

OK, I said almost. For those whose idea of the best vacation involves staying at a posh resort with lots of amusement rides and splashing pools for the children and ample staff to tend to the every whim of the adults, this isn't going to be much help.

But for those whose vacation was to be some time spent together in the natural setting of a national park or forest, there is a way to replicate some of that fun without venturing far from home by using the old standby: The back yard camp out.

I'm not talking about merely setting up a tent for the kids and going inside at 10 p.m. when the novelty wears off to watch the latest Netflix installment. I mean camping out for real -- all night, under the stars, weather be damned.

Many of us spend quite a lot of money, time and sweat making our yards places to enjoy, then become so busy we fail to have time to enjoy them. A back yard camp out provides such an opportunity. But it's an all-or-nothing proposition.

First, set the ground rules: No electronic anything. No runs into the house except to use the bathroom. (You can even hide the remote controls and unplug the television, computers, etc., to make the point.) No last minute rescues by friends who call or text with a better offer. This is your family vacation. For purposes you are "out of town" for the duration.

Set up the entire camp as you would if you had gone to the campground of your choosing: tents, chairs, stove, cooking gear, coolers, etc. If camp coffee is what you would have had away from home, then no sneaking out to Starbucks before everyone is awake or creeping into the kitchen to make it there. Adults have to follow the rules too.

One activity to help seal the idea that you've "gone" somewhere is to engage in a group activity to create something to use for the duration of camp. Hit the local craft stores and pick up some plain white canvas baseball camps or bucket hats and let each person use colorful permanent markers to decorate his or her hat. You can also do this with plain-color bandannas.

Or create nature journals for everyone to use on the "trip." Take a few sheets of white paper from your printer -- three for each book ought to be enough -- and have pieces of card stock in various colors for people to use as covers. Fold three sheets of white paper the short way and fold a sheet of card stock over them, creating a booklet. Staple the inside along the fold or punch holes along the fold-- one near the top and one hear the bottom -- and tie with twine.

Then do a nature scavenger hunt. Divide into two teams and set the parameters: Front and back yards, the entire block, a one-block radius, etc. Then give each team a notebook (and a digital camera, if possible) and assign each team to bring back, or record the existence of, five items related to specific topic.  Simple field guides might also be helpful.

For example, one team may have to find find pieces of evidence that mean birds live in the area. This can mean spotting actual birds (but they must be identified) or simply seeing nests, droppings or hearing their calls (describe the calls on paper the best that you can). Another team could be assigned to find five different insects or evidence of their existence. Think roadside wildflowers, trees or mammals.

The end of the game involves meeting back at camp at an appointed time and showing what you found. Sometimes the stories of how someone found a particular item can be quite hilarious ("The bird pooped on Mr. Lambert's car - right after he washed it!") Make sure there is a prize for the team who gets everything on the list and arrives back first -- like a special pin or sticker for their camp hats, bandannas or journals. The photos can be printed later and pasted inside the journals.

Families who are good at this sort of thing might opt for more serious topics such as noxious roadside weeds, litter or ways in which the neighborhood could conserve water or energy. For these families, the end of the game could involve planning a service project you could do as a group when you "get home" from your vacation.

If fishing or long hikes through the woods figured prominently in your plans, why not hit a local trail, nature center, park or the local lake, stream or even fishing farm instead? Those of us who have grown used to traveling for such activities can ignore the opportunities available closer to home. As usual, record the outing in your journals with photos, written accounts or by drawing pictures or gluing bits of nature onto the pages.

Of course, this isn't going to feel like that trip to Yellowstone or Yosemite. But it can feel like a vacation, if the focus is on each other and nature, rather than the restaurants, games and other trappings of your typical daily routines.

Where's the naturalist?

Greetings!
I am on my way to New England, where it promises to be a bit wetter and likely a whole lot cooler than our Intermountain West this holiday.

Have a look at  a new feature in the margin called "Whatzit Wednesday." You e-mail me with guesses as to what is in the photo, and I'll let folks know who was correct when I post next Wednesday's whatzit. We snapped a photo of this one while doing a hike up near Mount Ogden a couple of weeks ago. It is about the size of a small woman's hand.

In the meantime, have a great July 4. Give a freedom whoop for your favorite national or state park or wilderness area, and try to visit it this weekend. I'll be back here Thursday evening with a post about Walden Pond -- yes, THAT Walden!

Getting hosed by bottled water

Last week, San Franciscio Mayor Gavin Newsom newsom banned city departments from buying bottled water -- not only because billions of the bottles end up in landfills each year, but also because producing plastic bottles uses massive amounts of petroleum.

A report  publishedin February by the Container Recycling Institute shows that it takes 18 million gallons of crude oil to manufacture the 2 million tons of plastic bottles that are needed to replace those that aren't recycled. Some 144 billion plastic bottles were dumped into landfills, strewn about public parks or dropped into the nation's rivers and streams in 2005, the report says.

Honestly, you'd think people who drink bottled water out of concern for their personal health would show a little more care for the environment's health, wouldn't you?

Of course, I grew up drinking out of the garden hose.  Remember when it was OK -- good, even -- to do that? You'd take a slurp, squirt your brother, take another slurp ... run ...

We drank from hoses, of course, because to get a drink any other way meant we'd have to go inside. And nobody wanted to do that on a summer day. Inside was a place where one found grownups, bedrooms that needed cleaning and television sets that received four channels on a good day.

Now we have a generation of children who recoil at the thought of drinking from the kitchen faucet, let alone from a hose in the back yard. And heaven forbid that we'd make them use public fountains while on vacation. Those of us who fail to put a case of bottled water in the trunk on the way out of town spend a small fortune $1.19 at a time in convenience stores along our routes.

I remember family trips in which the "bottled" water was a Thermos of ice water that my mom kept in the front seat. Everyone took a turn sipping out of -- gasp -- the same cup. Otherwise, we used the fountains at rest stops. I loved the trips to Kentucky because the water typically was drawn from a well. It was so cold and had a hard metallic taste. I thought it was simply the best water Ihad ever tasted. Likely, I was being infused with mercury or lead or arsenic or some other as-yet undiscovered chemical. Obviously, it hasn't killed me yet.

But I wonder what kinds of choices we're leaving our children when we make them afraid of so many everyday things. Last fall, I actually could not convince half a dozen third-grade girls that they would not "get germs" if they sat on the dirt floor of our nature center's teepee long enough for me to tell them a story. They stood up the entire time.

We give them water in plastic bottles, juice in hermetically sealed boxes and clean grocery carts with antibacterial wipes before we touch them. We filter the air in our homes, the water in our kitchens and sleep with the windows closed because someone my crawl inside while we're sleeping. No wonder our children don't play in the woods or in the creek by themselves. It's a wonder they go out of the house at all

Tell you what. Forget about buying another pool toy or more flipflops for your kid. This summer, buy him a garden hose. Hook it up and flip on the spigot -- as long as it doesn't violate watering restrictions.

Jeepers.

Friday fun

A colleague says his preschool-age daughter has developed an affinity for bugs -- cockroaches and potato bugs, most recently. The former are, in her words, "so cuuute" and the latter are roly-poly and fun to pick up.

So I sent them two sets of plastic insect tongs -- the kind with bubbles punched with air holes on the ends -- to aid in their evening expeditions for the creep-crawlies that keep her entertained without batteries or licensed cartoon characters.

After encountering more than a few children in our nature center classes who are afraid to sit on the ground or hold an animal bone or touch insects because they "have germs," my colleague's encouragement of his daughter's bug adventures inspires me.
So in honor of Maya and her dad, each Friday I am going to jot down an idea or two for things to do outside with -- or without -- children. After all, discovery and wonder aren't reserved for the young.

This weekend we're going to scoop a pond. We do this with classes at the nature center where I work, and the kids would dip for three hours if we let them.

First, grab an insect net. You can make one relatively easily by taking a piece of fine mesh and folding the edges around circle made from some stiff wire, like a coat hanger. Take your net, a small bucket, some binoculars (always take binoculars) and find your little body of water. Once there, fill the bucket with some of the pond water and set it on the bank.

Now, gently scoop your net  through the water  a few inches below the surfcae. Not too deep, or you'll get nothing but a blob of mud. Now hold the net over the bucket and with your fingers -- or a toothpick, if you're squeamish -- gently flip the creatures into your bucket.

Remember to think tiny. Many of nature's most amazing wonders are tinier than the tip of your pinkie. With any luck, you'll get a water strider (also called "skater") or two, some diving beetles, water mites and perhaps even a monstrous-looking dragonfly or damselfly nymph. Hollywood filmmakers looking for  sci-fi monster models could easily find them in the average pond.

Change your position, scooping among cattails and reeds, under a bridge or next to rocks. Change the distance from the bank that you scoop or the depth. And don't forget to look around. Even without a net, there is much to be enjoyed and discovered by poking around a pond's raggedy edges or looking into the trees overhead.
Happy scooping. I'll be back Monday. Let me know what you found.

Get out

Yesterday morning, my other half and I did a little hike along one of the numerous trails that exist in the Wasatch Mountains, which abut the east side of our town.

It wasn't one of those arduous treks requiring all sorts of technical gear, nor did it  encompass all of our day. We still had time to catch some lunch, run a few errands and work in the yard for a few hours.
Still, it was a fabulous hike. We enjoyed the kind of clean air and solitude that mountains offer, spotted damselflies and at least two different types of dragonflies, one enormous muskrat den and a dozen different birds -- including two mother mallards and their ducklings.

Although we hiked about five miles, the spot where we saw the most activity was a pond barely a mile from our car. There, the muddy bank held the footprints of deer and moose that, judging by the prints, we had barely missed seeing. They likely were tucked among the trees, watching us as we picked our way around the water's edge.

We encountered plenty of adults who traveled either alone or in groups of twos or threes. But we met only one family with children. The younger of their two children toted a small insect net and squealed with glee as he ran after everything and, according to his father, hadn't caught a single creature. "He's just doing it for fun," his dad said.

Well, of course. Weren't we all? That is why people hike - or at least, it ought to be.

Somehow, in the tangle of outdoor-equipment retailers, adventure magazines and extreme sports, many Americans have become trapped by the idea that a hike ain't a hike unless you're trudging from dawn to dusk and toting a week's provisions on your back.

Happy little day hikes have been tainted by what I call the marathon syndrome. Monday morning, you tell your coworkers you went on a hike, and the first thing they ask is, "How far did you go?"

Dang. Forgot to check. But we did see more common whitetail dragonflies than we could count, you tell them. Their eyes glaze over, and you dispense with describing the insect's distinct black-and-white striped wings. You then make a mental note to keep track of your distance next time.

Or not.

Forget about the pedometers, altimeters and specially designed boots that will take you to the top of Mount Everest. Grab a water bottle, a peanut butter sandwich, put on your tennis shoes and take a hike. Admire the flowers, insects and birds. Look for footprints and nests. Take back one really good mental image and identify that bird or flower or bug when you get home. You may not trek far or fast, but you'll travel miles away from your daily drugdery.

And when your coworkers ask what you did over the weekend, you can tell them, in all honesty, that you discovered something new and had a wonderful trip.

Welcome to Nature's Call

Welcome to Nature's Call, a place designed to help people re-connect with the natural environment. As a teacher-naturalist at a nature center in the Intermountain West, I have met children who know what  penguins and clown fish look like (presumably because of "Happy Feet'" and "Finding Nemo"), but cannot tell me that a robin's tummy is red.

Spending time in a natural environment each day relieves stress, helps to focus children and renews the spirit of all people, young and old.

Each day, right here, I will share some stories and tips designed to help inspire people to get outside and find a little bit of nature to enjoy, whether they are exploring an urban courtyard, a public park or the vast open spaces of the American West.

We'll discuss some of the issues and challenges that have alienated people from the outdoors -- and, hopefully, we will spend more time outside than sitting inside writing on the blog.

Bear with me as I explore this new medium. And don't forget to go out and play!