Showing posts with label Natural History of Vacant Lots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Natural History of Vacant Lots. Show all posts

Monday, June 25, 2012

Always Heed a Kingfisher's Warning -- Natural History of Vacant Lots 3


Today's guest blogger is my very own non-matrimonial spousal equivalent, Patricia Maher.  Pat is a homeopath, astrologer and a closet naturalist.  Pat is an avid birdwatcher, amateur entomologist, and passionate observer of the natural world and the body politic.
 
Always Heed a Kingfisher’s Warning…. And other cautionary tales
 by Patricia Maher

When Rebecca and I were first looking at land to buy in Akron, Ohio, we considered two pairs of lots – one on E Lods Street (no doubt a corruption of the Polish city of Lodz) and one on N Maple Street. Her relatives had settled in both neighborhoods in the early and middle parts of the 20th century, and we liked the idea of making those roots real. The City of Akron had made lots available to buy on both these streets.  We ultimately chose the N Maple St. site, in part because two kingfishers admonished us severely when we stood on Lods, warning us away. When we looked at the N Maple lots, two kingfishers buzzed us but didn’t comment.  Thanks for clarifying our decision!

Belted Kingfisher
I have learned that kingfishers have a lot to say, and like my mother – who was the crankiest of Virgos – they are usually saying to me something like “Oh for gods sake you had better not …”

The times I’ve ignored a kingfisher’s warning there has been hell to pay, for example, a kayak trip that turned unexpectedly perilous, with bad water, bad weather and a rescue (thankfully not me!).

So the site of our straw bale homes on N Maple St. is a short cul-de-sac that abuts the Erie Canal towpath, a 100-mile wooded walkway along the Cuyahoga River. The closet naturalist in me is thrilled:  I am surrounded by the delightful Babel of birdsong and insect calls, and I get to run around with my butterfly net. (Hmm, perhaps I’m not so in the closet!) It turns out that butterfly nets are rather hard to wield and I am out of practice, having last used one when I was about 9.  

There are kingfishers just down the street, hanging out on the river.  There are at least two pairs of nesting orioles across from my house, outfitted in an almost day-glo orange.  Just last week, I heard an outburst of sudden warning calls from songbirds; I looked up, thinking a raptor was nearby.  Well, it was Chessie, as I like to call Chesapeake, Akron’s own downtown peregrine falcon, as she zoomed past. (Chessie, after all, was the name of my first cat.)  Of course, it could have been McKinley, Chessie’s newest mate since her long time partner Bandit died in February. You gotta love a city that names its resident falcons!

Back to my butterfly net and my ungainly pirouetting across the construction site to catch butterflies.  Today’s catch and release netted a pale yellow Clouded Sulfur, and very manic small black butterfly that might have been a Northern Cloudywing, but I’m not sure since it escaped my net several times before I could get a good look. 

I knew Akron was the place for me when I discovered that there are Sphinx moths here, those beautiful giant daytime moths in art deco designs that fly around flower gardens like hummingbirds, slurping up nectar with their huge proboscises.  God I love them! Just couple of weeks ago I thought I saw one enjoying some water that had collected on the ground from my endless task of washing out earth plaster buckets. The moth was big and black with striking orange markings on its abdomen.  Hmm, not a sphinx moth after all but who was this handsome creature, I wondered? 

Peach Borer Moth
It turned out to be a peach tree borer, a clearwing moth that is considered to be a “wasp mimic.” Its larvae are terribly destructive, and bore into peach trees, unfortunately for our friends across the street who have quite an array of stone fruit trees growing up.

And oh, the wolf spiders!  Really long–legged. They’re everywhere: on the walls of my almost finished house, enjoying the cool plaster, and hanging out in the pile of empty buckets outside.  The homeopath in me has my milk sugar at the ready – I don’t think this is a remedy yet but soon it will be!  

Monday, June 04, 2012

Natural History of Vacant Lots

One of my favorite books is this now out of print nature guide by Matthew Vessel and Herbert Wong.  It provides expert guidance in how to explore the flora and fauna of abandoned areas in California.  While many of the species differ from what we have here in Ohio, the book provides a useful orientation to the general task as well as a helpful metaphor for thinking about the disturbed place of the urban Midwest.

Disturbed places is how Vessel and Wong describe vacant lots.  At the very beginning they state, "A town or city is a disturbed natural area modified drastically by humans to accommodate their own needs." At the writing of the book they could fairly state, "Most of the natural organisms that once flourished on the urban site have been pushed out by people."  This is certainly not the case today, at least not in Akron, and long abandoned areas of the Great Lakes hugging rust belt.

The first time I laid eyes on the land that Pat and I would eventually own was about 10 years ago.  It formed part of the eastern edge of the Towpath trail that is a part of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.  Before that it had been one of the neighborhoods that Great Migration folk had settled upon arrival in the North.  I drove slowly down Hickory St. I carefully skirted a prickle of ground hogs (yes, this is the collective noun) lounging on the asphalt.  Deer roamed the places where houses had stood.  Chipmunks ran amok, twitching and scurrying from hole to hole.  Hawks circled. An impressive array of birds sang, hunted and raised their young.  This was before eminent domain took what little housing remained standing.

N. Maple St. Tree
Now the area is disturbed again as we, and others build houses in what the city hopes will be an urban "arts district" (which is code for "Let's try to attract rich gay men". What they got, at least on our street, is middle aged lesbians).  But the fact of the towpath and the federal national park renders our little part of Akron an ecotone.  Ecotone is "the area where two or more distinct habitats adjoin" according to Home Ground, a wonderful volume edited by Barry Lopez,  that is subtitled Language for an American Landscape.  Our little habitat will never be urban chic and somewhat sterile because the 50+ mile long towpath provides an uninterrupted corridor for the migration of birds, roaming coyotes, solitary and vicious fisher cats (actually weasels) on the hunt, not to mention deer, groundhogs, crows and ... I could go on and on.

And I will, in regular installments throughout the summer as I explore the micro-environment of my wooded hillside as well the other meanings of "natural history" and "disturbed places" for what we hope will become an urban sanctuary.