My earliest memorable experience with nature was when I was
about 4 or 5 years old, riding in the backseat as my parents drove along the
Columbia River Gorge. I was pretty underwhelmed with the scenery, as most kids are,
until my mother said “you see those tall rock walls with all the lines in them?
That means that a long time ago, before there were people, this whole place was
under water.”
This was the first time I ever felt an interest in
nature—particularly geology. I remember my young mind dreading the thought of a
dam bursting and catastrophically flooding the area as we drove along the
highway. My first impression of Mother Nature was that she was immensely vast
and powerful, and for the first time, I realized just how small I was in
relation to the earth, the galaxy and the universe.
The concept of Earth before humans existed was new to me—I
had never before considered that there was a time that people were not around,
since they had always existed in my reality. It was a realization that
fascinated me just as much as it terrified me. On one hand, I felt powerless
and insignificant, knowing that if the unfeeling Earth had brought me into
existence through such a miraculous feat, it could take me out through an
equivalently catastrophic one. On the other hand, I was exhilarated by a
feeling of awe and reverence—something I had never felt before.
To this day, nothing evokes this feeling of awe in me like
the earth and cosmos do—not even the idea of God. I feel this phenomenon when
looking out at the vast expanse of stars or the powerful ocean. It can be best
described as a feeling of wonder at all we know of the universe’s capabilities as
well as what we don’t and may never know of them. For me, it never fails to evoke
a perplexing existential crisis in which I look at everything that exists and
can only wonder “…how?! Why??”
Although my interest in earth sciences remained throughout
my childhood and adolescence, I did not become interested in environmental sciences
until recently. In fact, I remember in my early teens I resented my parents for
taking me on hikes, trails and day trips to different state parks. I honestly
just found it really, really boring. When my mother would point out an unusual
tree, I’d sarcastically remark “wow, a tree. Don’t see those every day.” My
parents would always brush it off and tell me I would appreciate it one day. To
no surprise, they were right.
I now consider nature to be an acquired taste, where it can
seem boring at first but becomes more and more fascinating the more one is
exposed to it. This is precisely why I chose to take this class. I know that
with any hobby, a greater knowledge base makes it that much more enjoyable. I
want to be able to be outdoors and know with a trained eye (and ear) what is
going on in that moment: what is flowering, migrating, dying, mating, etc. and
be able to understand the big picture from my observations. Not only do I want
to appreciate the natural world for its aesthetic beauty, I also want to
possess the expertise to appreciate it for its complex processes that come
together to make a balanced system. This class will (hopefully) guide me towards
developing that expertise.
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Date: Sunday, October 4th, 2015
12:30-1:30 PM
Weather: Sunny
Temperature: 70°
For my observation spot, I immediately thought of Dumas Bay Wildlife Sanctuary, just northeast of Dash Point State Park in Federal Way and a convenient 5 minute drive from my parent's house. I only discovered this place about 2 years ago when a friend introduced me to it, and have been coming back regularly ever since. It's a relatively low-profile place with preserved woodlands, a shore on the Puget Sound and a swamp area. A short trail leads in towards the shore, with forestry on either side. When you enter the trail, a plaque informs you that this place is a popular Great Blue Heron breeding area. I have yet to see a heron or a heron nest there, but I'll keep my eyes peeled. The plaque also claims the area is home to crabs, crawfish, shiner perch, and shellfish in the wetlands and rodents, frogs and snakes in the woodlands.
I first examined the leaves I found on the trail to try to identify the trees.
These leaves looked to me to be from Sugar Maples. Autumn is one of my favorite times of year; I'm excited to watch the leaves change colors and shed as autumn progresses.
I'm pretty sure this is an Alder leaf. I think these trees are Red Alders, which are common in this area. There also appears to be white lichen on the trunks.
Moving onward, I noticed a lot of these ferns around- which, based on what they look like, I'm guessing are Deer Ferns or Common Sword Ferns.
I walked off the main trail to find what I'll consider to be my primary observation spot this quarter. It is on the edge of a ravine, overlooking the foliage below. It's deep enough to hear the birds chirping. I heard a high pitched, soft squeaking chirp that sounds like when you suck air in through through your teeth, but couldn't find any of the birds. I guess they blend in.
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My observation site on a ridge overlooking the forest. The picture doesn't show the depth very well. Includes the aforementioned vegetation: what looks like red alder, sugar maples and deer/common sword ferns.* |
I noticed some holly by my observation site- English Holly, maybe? There are little buds on the branches near the stems of the leaves, maybe fruits will be growing soon?
I was hoping to see some rodents or other animals in the forest, but had no luck... maybe due to the fact that I brought my super energetic dog with me. However, I did find evidence of insects as well as the vile god forsaken creatures we refer to as arachnids.
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I'm curious what kind of spiders make this pattern-less, fluffy looking web? |
Although I chose for my observation spot to be in the woodlands, I also ventured down to the beach because it was a nice day and why not? Here's some pictures.
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This larva looking thing is aptly named a "Beach Hopper." They like to jump at you when you uncover their secret lair, which is pretty much under any big rock or log on the beach. |
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There were tons of Kelp Flies in this huge mass of seaweed. I've never seen so much seaweed here. Could be why I couldn't find any crabs under the rocks this time? |
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RIP, you will be missed. Although I (usually) see small brown crabs (shore crabs) all the time here, I rarely see red ones like these. Possibly a Red Rock Crab? |
So far, I'm enjoying this assignment but have a feeling I will truly reap the rewards of it as I continue to return to my observation spot and witness the changes that occur as fall progresses. The journal provides a time to be mindful of the natural world around us; a reprieve from the technology-laden world we usually find (or rather lose) ourselves in.
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