If we burn the prairie in the fall, the grass will grow better in the spring. This will give the elk and buffalo more to eat, allowing them to grow and multiply. Which means that we, in turn, will also have more to eat.
The above concept comes out of 1491 by Charles C. Mann (p. 279-284) - a great book for short bursts of reading, in that you can turn to just about any page at random, start reading, and learn something interesting about the Americas before 1492. I read the above and thought: Huh. That makes a lot more sense - to work with nature to get what you want, rather than against it, trying to control it. Why don't we do more of that instead?
(Not that that works well in modern-day container gardening, alas. My inclination is to put the plants out there and let nature do whatever it wants. Unfortunately, this doesn't seem to give me any tomatoes.)
Then a few days later, I found out via Discover Magazine ("Where the Wild Things Are", March 2010, doesn't appear to be on their website (yet?) dangit) that someone in the Netherlands is trying it out. Or something close to it with the Oostvaardersplassen nature preserve. Basically, put a bunch of large herbivores together, do nothing management-wise, and see what happens. Results so far: you get patches of open forest and grasslands. not unbroken dense forest.
Anyway, like I said in the title, I don't really have a point. I just thought it was kind of cool. :)
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
09 March 2010
18 January 2010
A walk in a park
Despite having lived in Savannah for 8 years, and even though I used to drive past it every day, I'd never visited the Skidaway Island State Park until today. When I got up, though, it was sunny and warm (60s F / 18ish C). It's also right after a week of below-freezing nighttime temperatures, which means many fewer bugs. And I wanted to be outside. So ...
Coastal Georgia is basically all salt marshes - think of it as a "floodplain" area as the tide goes in and out. In the park, it was mostly filled with Juncus roemerianus (black needlerush). At the edge of the marsh, the treeline pretty much just starts up suddenly where the highest reaches of saltwater ends.
The standard southeastern maritime forest is fairly open with trees spaced far apart (that is, you can see pretty far into it and it's easy to walk through). The tallest are pines, but there's a variety of deciduous and palm-type trees in the midlevels. Saw palmettos stand out as the main part of the understory. The pines have extra-thick bark and there's lots of pine needle litter, which means fire is a part of the ecology.
Far enough inland away from the saltwater, there are shallow freshwater ponds. Some of which are called "sloughs" (sloo). These are a type of wetland. Also, in places where spanish moss is especially thick, the distant forest can look ghostly silvered.
All in all, I walked about 7 miles and saw every part of every trail (almost... would've gotten the last bit too if my legs hadn't wore out). Skidaway Island State Park isn't that big and can easily be seen all in one day. The trails are all flat and wide (would rate "level 1 difficulty"), but then, coastal Georgia is pretty flat. And it turned out to be a good idea to wear my crocs for the venture because I had to wade through some of it (it rained a lot over the weekend).
Coastal Georgia is basically all salt marshes - think of it as a "floodplain" area as the tide goes in and out. In the park, it was mostly filled with Juncus roemerianus (black needlerush). At the edge of the marsh, the treeline pretty much just starts up suddenly where the highest reaches of saltwater ends.
The standard southeastern maritime forest is fairly open with trees spaced far apart (that is, you can see pretty far into it and it's easy to walk through). The tallest are pines, but there's a variety of deciduous and palm-type trees in the midlevels. Saw palmettos stand out as the main part of the understory. The pines have extra-thick bark and there's lots of pine needle litter, which means fire is a part of the ecology.
Far enough inland away from the saltwater, there are shallow freshwater ponds. Some of which are called "sloughs" (sloo). These are a type of wetland. Also, in places where spanish moss is especially thick, the distant forest can look ghostly silvered.
All in all, I walked about 7 miles and saw every part of every trail (almost... would've gotten the last bit too if my legs hadn't wore out). Skidaway Island State Park isn't that big and can easily be seen all in one day. The trails are all flat and wide (would rate "level 1 difficulty"), but then, coastal Georgia is pretty flat. And it turned out to be a good idea to wear my crocs for the venture because I had to wade through some of it (it rained a lot over the weekend).
08 January 2009
Seasons
Where I grew up in Indiana, we had spring, summer, fall, and winter. The schedule was something like:
Spring - mid to late April
Summer - May to September
Autumn - October
Winter - November to early April
Spring was the brief period where daytime temperature was in the 60s and low 70s (Fahrenheit). It tended to last two or three weeks.
Then summer came in all its high heat, high humidity glory. It was usually 85-90, but the humidity made it feel much higher than that. There always seemed to be a midsummer drought, where all the grass turned brown.
Autumn tended to be longer than spring, but not by a whole lot. Maybe 6 weeks or so. The trees turned gold, the winds were warm, and the sky was a spectacular shade of deep blue.
Then, if we were unlucky, we would have snow just before Halloween. Trick or treating was always a chilly event. It sometimes warmed up for part of November, before there was snow again in December, lasting until the end of March or so. It didn't get as cold as more northerly parts, but because of that same high humidity, it always felt colder. Minnesotans sometimes commented about that.
Then March would end, the ground would be muddy and brown, and we were back to spring.
Here in Savannah, we sort of have the same seasons. But winter is more of a token appearance, and the schedule is completely different.
Spring - late February to early April
Summer - April to mid-November
Autumn - late November to December
Winter - January and February
At least, that's how it would be defined from an Indiana perspective. Except that about half of "summer" would probably have to be called "supersummer" because the temperatures are a lot higher - 95-100 is the norm. Humidity is pretty high too. If it's a normal summer, there's a 20-minute rainfall every afternoon. Sometimes those only happen on weekends, depending on air pollution or somesuch (I'm not real clear on the details). Either way, though, one can confidently say things like "oh it'll stop raining by 4:20pm" to one's visitors, and have it be exactly so. (In Indiana, when it rains, it rains for days at a time.)
The daily highs tend to drop a bit around September, which causes all the locals to call it the beginning of autumn. But they're still in the 80s range. So, by my definition, it's still summer.
Meanwhile, winter is a bit of a misnomer. Sometimes in January and February, the nightly lows will dip below freezing for multiple nights in a row. Shocking, I know. At least to outdoor plants.
This year we had a "cold" snap at the beginning of December, but ever since then it's been sunny and low 70s. Maybe Nature's schedule has shifted around on me again.
Spring - mid to late April
Summer - May to September
Autumn - October
Winter - November to early April
Spring was the brief period where daytime temperature was in the 60s and low 70s (Fahrenheit). It tended to last two or three weeks.
Then summer came in all its high heat, high humidity glory. It was usually 85-90, but the humidity made it feel much higher than that. There always seemed to be a midsummer drought, where all the grass turned brown.
Autumn tended to be longer than spring, but not by a whole lot. Maybe 6 weeks or so. The trees turned gold, the winds were warm, and the sky was a spectacular shade of deep blue.
Then, if we were unlucky, we would have snow just before Halloween. Trick or treating was always a chilly event. It sometimes warmed up for part of November, before there was snow again in December, lasting until the end of March or so. It didn't get as cold as more northerly parts, but because of that same high humidity, it always felt colder. Minnesotans sometimes commented about that.
Then March would end, the ground would be muddy and brown, and we were back to spring.
Here in Savannah, we sort of have the same seasons. But winter is more of a token appearance, and the schedule is completely different.
Spring - late February to early April
Summer - April to mid-November
Autumn - late November to December
Winter - January and February
At least, that's how it would be defined from an Indiana perspective. Except that about half of "summer" would probably have to be called "supersummer" because the temperatures are a lot higher - 95-100 is the norm. Humidity is pretty high too. If it's a normal summer, there's a 20-minute rainfall every afternoon. Sometimes those only happen on weekends, depending on air pollution or somesuch (I'm not real clear on the details). Either way, though, one can confidently say things like "oh it'll stop raining by 4:20pm" to one's visitors, and have it be exactly so. (In Indiana, when it rains, it rains for days at a time.)
The daily highs tend to drop a bit around September, which causes all the locals to call it the beginning of autumn. But they're still in the 80s range. So, by my definition, it's still summer.
Meanwhile, winter is a bit of a misnomer. Sometimes in January and February, the nightly lows will dip below freezing for multiple nights in a row. Shocking, I know. At least to outdoor plants.
This year we had a "cold" snap at the beginning of December, but ever since then it's been sunny and low 70s. Maybe Nature's schedule has shifted around on me again.
30 November 2008
A Faulted Dike
In geology, a bedding plane is where sediments settled over a really long time and turned into layers of rock, with the oldest at the bottom and youngest at the top. Sometimes after this happens, the land shifts around so that the bedding plane isn't horizontal anymore, but might be tilted at an angle, or folded in curvy patterns.
A dike or sill is when a finger of molten rock penetrates through regular cooled, hard rock. If it's going in the same direction as the bedding plane, it's a sill. If it cuts across several of them, it's a dike.
A fault is when there's a really big crack that turns a bedding plane into two pieces, and one piece shifts position relative to the other piece.
And this:
is the sort of sight that would make your average roadside geologist swerve off the road while staring in fascination. That's a dike (or sill) that got cracked up into fragments. It's next to the Hoover Dam in Nevada/Arizona, where the land looks like it went through so much violent upheaval that there's no bedding plane at all anymore, it's all been crinkled into rubble. I imagine it's great fun trying to piece together what happened, and how, and in what order.
Note: I was on foot. No motorists or pedestrians were harmed in the taking of this picture. Also: click on the picture to get the full effect of its scale; those metal things at the top are electricity towers.
A dike or sill is when a finger of molten rock penetrates through regular cooled, hard rock. If it's going in the same direction as the bedding plane, it's a sill. If it cuts across several of them, it's a dike.
A fault is when there's a really big crack that turns a bedding plane into two pieces, and one piece shifts position relative to the other piece.
And this:
is the sort of sight that would make your average roadside geologist swerve off the road while staring in fascination. That's a dike (or sill) that got cracked up into fragments. It's next to the Hoover Dam in Nevada/Arizona, where the land looks like it went through so much violent upheaval that there's no bedding plane at all anymore, it's all been crinkled into rubble. I imagine it's great fun trying to piece together what happened, and how, and in what order.
Note: I was on foot. No motorists or pedestrians were harmed in the taking of this picture. Also: click on the picture to get the full effect of its scale; those metal things at the top are electricity towers.
18 November 2008
Sunset over the Skidaway River
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John Scalzi posted a picture of Sunset in Ohio today, to which Jim Wright counterposted a picture of Sunset in Alaska. In the best tradition of "Oh yeah?" everywhere, here's a picture of Sunset in Coastal Georgia. It may have no baying wolves or lowing mammoths in it, but it's more sunsetty than Jim's. :)
These pictures were taken in mid-September 2007.
And since the "links to this post" feature seems to be nonfunctional, here's a few more sunsets:
Sunset in Colorado
Sunset(?) in NYC
Sunset in Washington
01 June 2008
Day Four: A Crater
Diamond Head is Waikiki's most recognizable landmark. In the past it was used as a military sentry point - and there are old bunkers all along the top of the rim facing seaward. One such bunker is now a tourist destination, at the top of a brisk, steep hike from the middle of the crater, best done in the morning before heat and crowds appear.
inside of crater from near the top of the trail
a bunker at other end of the ridge from the lookout point
looking down the slope, southward
The Bishop Museum is allegedly an excellent place to learn about Hawaiian history, culture, and natural history - but this is probably more true when the main exhibit hall isn't undergoing renovations. Most of the rest (five buildings and a courtyard with carnival rides) consists of interactive exhibits suitable for children, which isn't really worth the admission (full, even with renovations occurring) if the group is adult-only.
One of the interactive exhibits was a giant model of an active volcano. There were buttons to control the size of the eruption. The brochure made it sound really exciting, and so that was what we went to see. As with the rest, it probably is very exciting to children.
Beach of the Day:
Waikiki Beach is artificially extra-wide with soft light-colored sand and gentle waves due to groynes. The water stays at 4-5 feet deep for quite a distance from shore, though eventually it becomes possible to trip on reef rock. It's surrounded by highrise hotels and about as interesting to swim in as a pool.
view of Diamond Head from concrete walk on the way to Waikiki Beach
view of Waikiki from top of Diamond Head
Waikiki Beach (photo by cousin Angela)
On the other side of the groyne, where there is no sand whatsoever and waves crash violently against the seawall under the concrete walk, it's possible to see lots of different kinds of fish.
inside of crater from near the top of the trail
a bunker at other end of the ridge from the lookout point
looking down the slope, southward
The Bishop Museum is allegedly an excellent place to learn about Hawaiian history, culture, and natural history - but this is probably more true when the main exhibit hall isn't undergoing renovations. Most of the rest (five buildings and a courtyard with carnival rides) consists of interactive exhibits suitable for children, which isn't really worth the admission (full, even with renovations occurring) if the group is adult-only.
One of the interactive exhibits was a giant model of an active volcano. There were buttons to control the size of the eruption. The brochure made it sound really exciting, and so that was what we went to see. As with the rest, it probably is very exciting to children.
Beach of the Day:
Waikiki Beach is artificially extra-wide with soft light-colored sand and gentle waves due to groynes. The water stays at 4-5 feet deep for quite a distance from shore, though eventually it becomes possible to trip on reef rock. It's surrounded by highrise hotels and about as interesting to swim in as a pool.
view of Diamond Head from concrete walk on the way to Waikiki Beach
view of Waikiki from top of Diamond Head
Waikiki Beach (photo by cousin Angela)
On the other side of the groyne, where there is no sand whatsoever and waves crash violently against the seawall under the concrete walk, it's possible to see lots of different kinds of fish.
30 May 2008
Day Three: Swimming with the Fishes
On the third day, we attended a wedding. It was lovely, but it did mean we didn't go very many interesting places elsewhere on Oahu.
Beach of the day:
Hanauma Bay is a shallow, protected bay that started out as a crater. Nowadays it's a great place for snorkeling or scuba diving, or even just standing there looking into the crystal clear water from above. The snorkel gear they rent out is excellent. The reef grows nearly right up to shore. We saw lots of different kinds of fish, and also an enormous black sea cucumber, which looked like a giant fat worm resting on the bottom.
Beach of the day:
Hanauma Bay is a shallow, protected bay that started out as a crater. Nowadays it's a great place for snorkeling or scuba diving, or even just standing there looking into the crystal clear water from above. The snorkel gear they rent out is excellent. The reef grows nearly right up to shore. We saw lots of different kinds of fish, and also an enormous black sea cucumber, which looked like a giant fat worm resting on the bottom.
29 May 2008
Day Two: A Day of Scenery
Southeast Oahu is full of steep, sharply-ridged mountains right up against the sea. We drove on every major road running through there at some point during that day. The grandeur has California's coast beat any day, and my mother commented that there was no longer any need to do the famed Highway One scenic drive. For some reason the mountains remind me of Japan, even though I've never been there.
Nu'uanu Pali Lookout is a very tiny state park that consists mainly of the one lookout point. According to the signs, the valley being viewed was formed by a gigantic landslide, when half of a volcano fell into the sea.
Makai pier is a research pier. There was no indication what sort of research was done at the pier. Two small islands are visible from there - Manana, also called Rabbit, and Kaohikaipu.
Behind the pier, the mountains loom very ominously. They look like they're right there, probably because of how steep they are.
Some land juts out to the right of the pier.
The right picture is the same land jutting out, except from around the corner on the other side. The pier is visible beyond the part that juts out. This was viewed from near the Makapu'u lighthouse, which we didn't see because by the time we got there it was too dark to do any climbing.
Hawaii Kai is a fairly wealthy-looking residential area to the east of Honolulu. It has some very nice mountains in it.
A lookout point just past Hanauma Bay, next to Sandy Beach.
Beach of the day:
Sandy Beach Park is between Hanauma Bay and Makapu'u Point. The waves aren't too tall but can be strong. I spent my time poking around in a bunch of rocks covered with algae, urchins, anemones, and other small creatures, and trying not to get dashed up against them when the water came in.
Nu'uanu Pali Lookout is a very tiny state park that consists mainly of the one lookout point. According to the signs, the valley being viewed was formed by a gigantic landslide, when half of a volcano fell into the sea.
Makai pier is a research pier. There was no indication what sort of research was done at the pier. Two small islands are visible from there - Manana, also called Rabbit, and Kaohikaipu.
Behind the pier, the mountains loom very ominously. They look like they're right there, probably because of how steep they are.
Some land juts out to the right of the pier.
The right picture is the same land jutting out, except from around the corner on the other side. The pier is visible beyond the part that juts out. This was viewed from near the Makapu'u lighthouse, which we didn't see because by the time we got there it was too dark to do any climbing.
Hawaii Kai is a fairly wealthy-looking residential area to the east of Honolulu. It has some very nice mountains in it.
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A lookout point just past Hanauma Bay, next to Sandy Beach.
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Beach of the day:
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Sandy Beach Park is between Hanauma Bay and Makapu'u Point. The waves aren't too tall but can be strong. I spent my time poking around in a bunch of rocks covered with algae, urchins, anemones, and other small creatures, and trying not to get dashed up against them when the water came in.
28 May 2008
Day One: Between the Mountains
Dole has a pineapple plantation just north of Wahiawa on Oahu, Hawaii. They grow lots of different kinds of pineapples there.
There were some other interesting plants in the same garden, including Norfolk Island pine trees (my favorite tree) and a pineapple-like plant with tiny purple flowers.
They also have the world's largest maze, but it wasn't that interesting to photograph from the inside - just lots and lots of tall green hedges.
Kukaniloko was once the birthplace of kings. At the center of Oahu, the mothers were carried in and never allowed to touch the ground. Drums announcing the birth could be heard anywhere on the entire island. Now it's a quiet copse of trees and boulders, right next to the highway but very hard to find (on purpose). The mountains to the east are said to resemble a pregnant woman lying on her back. It's holy ground. People still bring fruit offerings there.
The Iolani Palace was where the last of Hawaii's royalty lived. It's a three-story mansion with a lot of history.
Modern luaus aimed at tourists seem to be showcases of dances from several different Polynesian islands. The best known kind, with the fast-shaking hips, is actually Tahitian.
Beach of the day:
This is somewhere on the North Shore, west of Waialua. We were actually trying to find Haleiwa but got lost. The rocks under the sand are black.
(Video, Iolani photo from my mother. Rest are mine.)
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There were some other interesting plants in the same garden, including Norfolk Island pine trees (my favorite tree) and a pineapple-like plant with tiny purple flowers.
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They also have the world's largest maze, but it wasn't that interesting to photograph from the inside - just lots and lots of tall green hedges.
Kukaniloko was once the birthplace of kings. At the center of Oahu, the mothers were carried in and never allowed to touch the ground. Drums announcing the birth could be heard anywhere on the entire island. Now it's a quiet copse of trees and boulders, right next to the highway but very hard to find (on purpose). The mountains to the east are said to resemble a pregnant woman lying on her back. It's holy ground. People still bring fruit offerings there.
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The Iolani Palace was where the last of Hawaii's royalty lived. It's a three-story mansion with a lot of history.
Modern luaus aimed at tourists seem to be showcases of dances from several different Polynesian islands. The best known kind, with the fast-shaking hips, is actually Tahitian.
Beach of the day:
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This is somewhere on the North Shore, west of Waialua. We were actually trying to find Haleiwa but got lost. The rocks under the sand are black.
(Video, Iolani photo from my mother. Rest are mine.)
19 April 2008
Ephemeron
Through the stormclouds a sunbeam came.
This was taken on a dark, cloudy day that was mostly filled with wind and rain. It went away about ten minutes later.
This was taken on a dark, cloudy day that was mostly filled with wind and rain. It went away about ten minutes later.
22 December 2007
Some Peaceful Scenery
Southeastern U.S. coast maritime forest meets salt marsh. To the right, salt marsh eventually meets river. This picture was taken at the northern end of Skidaway Island, during a summertime a few years ago.
08 December 2007
A tree in Georgia
This is a southern live oak. We have four or five of them in the campus quad of the place where I work. The grayish stuff hanging off it is an epiphyte commonly called "Spanish moss" - it's neither Spanish nor moss. Savannah has a lot of these trees lining its streets.
27 November 2007
Autumn
One thing I miss about living in Indiana is the dried, crispy leaves in the fall. I love the way they sound and feel when crunched underfoot.
Here in coastal Georgia, we have acorns instead. Hundreds of them, hitting the roof and walls and windows like tiny gunshots every time the wind blows. Their caps crunch well underfoot, too, but they don't pile up to quite the heights that the leaves did in Indiana.
In coastal North Carolina we had giant pine cones, fallen from longleaf pines. Those were fun to collect and give to people elsewhere who could be wowed at the size.
Here in coastal Georgia, we have acorns instead. Hundreds of them, hitting the roof and walls and windows like tiny gunshots every time the wind blows. Their caps crunch well underfoot, too, but they don't pile up to quite the heights that the leaves did in Indiana.
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In coastal North Carolina we had giant pine cones, fallen from longleaf pines. Those were fun to collect and give to people elsewhere who could be wowed at the size.
19 November 2007
Yet another picture of Indiana trees
These are at McCormick's Creek State Park. It was mid-October.
To be perfectly clear, my self-bashing in past trees posts is directed at the compositional qualities of my pictures - not the scenery that was in the pictures. Nature is always beautiful in southern Indiana. :)
To be perfectly clear, my self-bashing in past trees posts is directed at the compositional qualities of my pictures - not the scenery that was in the pictures. Nature is always beautiful in southern Indiana. :)
10 November 2007
More Trees
These are still more pictures from Brown County State Park, Indiana, in mid-October. The lake is Stahl Lake.
As before, the overall composition is almost right, though I wanted to have more of the left. However, the subject tree on the right isn't entirely in the frame.
In order to get (almost) the whole tree, I had to omit most of the lake, and still the very top of the tree is out of the frame. For the perfect shot I would've had to step farther back. Unfortunately there was nothing to stand on and we didn't have a boat.
As before, the overall composition is almost right, though I wanted to have more of the left. However, the subject tree on the right isn't entirely in the frame.
In order to get (almost) the whole tree, I had to omit most of the lake, and still the very top of the tree is out of the frame. For the perfect shot I would've had to step farther back. Unfortunately there was nothing to stand on and we didn't have a boat.
02 November 2007
Some Trees
These are more pictures from Brown County State Park in mid-October.
I like the composition on this one, but as you can see, it was rather cloudy and the lighting wasn't very good.
I like the way the sunbeam falls on the orange tree, making it very bright, and the way it stands out against the dark clouds behind it. But the composition wasn't so good. It should've included more from the top and the right to get the surrounding trees.
Just pretend like it's one photo with both the sunbeam and the good composition of trees. :) Click on them for the gigantic version - I didn't scale down the size, because Kitten42 mentioned wanting to draw from them.
I like the composition on this one, but as you can see, it was rather cloudy and the lighting wasn't very good.
I like the way the sunbeam falls on the orange tree, making it very bright, and the way it stands out against the dark clouds behind it. But the composition wasn't so good. It should've included more from the top and the right to get the surrounding trees.
Just pretend like it's one photo with both the sunbeam and the good composition of trees. :) Click on them for the gigantic version - I didn't scale down the size, because Kitten42 mentioned wanting to draw from them.
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