Inside a Kaleidoscope

By Greg Lecker

Inside a Kaleidoscope – this is apt description of the current eruption of color at the Arboretum.  Multi-colored tulips, daffodils, magnolias, redbud, PJM Rhododendron, forsythia, crabapples, and, yes, wildflowers too!  Not in recent memory has the blooming of so many different types of flowers coincided – the result of our unusual spring.  Where snow lay not four weeks ago, weather records were broken by a high temperature of 98 degrees this past Tuesday (5/14/2013).

Before long, the forest floor of the Grace B. Dayton Wildflower Garden will become a green carpet of textures.  Before this transformation happens, let us appreciate the spring blooms of yellow, and blue, and white!

Marsh Marigold

Cheery blooms of Marsh Marigold burst atop shiny, sunlit, bushy clumps flanking a small brook flowing by still leaf-less Kentucky Coffeetrees.  The alternate name, Cowslip, descends from the Old English cu-slyppe.  Cu – “cow” and slyppe – “slop, slobber, dung” – describe the flower’s preferred habitat.  It is found along swampy boardwalks and canoe portages across central and northern Minnesota.

Virginia Bluebells

The limp-looking but stubborn stems of Virginia Bluebells slowly unfurl and lift their trumpet-like flowers – reddish-pink in bud and blue in bloom.  In a fortnight or two, the failing foliage will fade away, not to reappear for four seasons.

Spotted Fairybells

Spotted Fairybells are a spring wildflower with which I was not previously acquainted.

Crowning the forked stems bearing dark green glossy leaves, frilly white flower petals are freckled with brown speckles.   Spotted Fairybells is a spring showstopper!

However, like a late-night television marketer, Mother Nature offers “but wait, there’s more”.  The launch of new life continues with two Barred Owl chicks tentatively exploring the dense woodland swamp outside the nest of their birth four or five weeks ago.  But for an overall softening of their grayish-brown plumage, the fledglings resemble the adults:  a yellow beak and a pale face with dark rings around the eyes.   It is the only Minnesota owl with brown eyes; all others have yellow eyes.  Plumage patterns include bars and streaks.  Smaller than a Great Horned Owl, the Barred Owl (Strix varia) has no ear tufts.

Barred Owl Chicks

The owlets warily track me with their rotating head, and wail with eerie screeches.  Only partially visible through the emerging tree foliage, their guardians reassuringly answer with their distinctive call of “who cooks for you, who cooks for you-all”.  As dusk descends, perhaps the parents will proffer their progeny the prowess of hunting habits.

Savor the sweet spring!

Greg Lecker is a Minnesota Master Naturalist Volunteer.

Spreeeiiing-time!

By Greg Lecker

The whistling calls of Black-capped Chickadees delight.  Spreeeiiing-time, indeed.  Right on schedule, warblers are passing through, flittering in the tree tops.  This Friday afternoon, sixty-something degree sunshine has never felt warmer than it does following a windy raw Thursday evening.  What great timing for National Public Gardens Day when waived admission brings out visitors by the hundreds.  Some even stroll through the Grace B. Dayton Wildflower Garden!

Make plans to catch the ephemeral performance of a variety of spring wildflowers.  The Sensory Garden parking lot offers convenient access to this woodland treasure.

False Rue Anemone

False Rue Anemone waves in the warm afternoon breeze, like its namesake, Anemone, a wood nymph caressed by Zephyr, the West Wind.   A blended Greco-Roman myth suggests that goddess Flora, jealously enraged by such a tryst/rendezvous, banished the nymph.  Yielding to Zephyr’s pleading, Venus transformed the heartbroken, dying body of the nymph into a delicate wildflower that returns each spring to the delighted pursuit of the warmly puffing old man Zephyr.  Whether or not this story aids one in recalling the flower’s name, the fluttering flowers of False Rue Anemone certainly attract attention.

False Rue Anemone can be differentiated from Rue Anemone in several ways.  False Rue Anemone blooms of five sepals wave on thin stems rising from deeply dissected foliage.   Perched just atop less deeply dived foliage, Rue Anemone bloom with from five to as many as ten sepals.  Lastly, False Rue Anemone grows in large colonies in relatively moist sites; and Rue Anemone grows more sparsely in drier upland habitats.

Bloodroot

Warm temperatures have unfurled the petals of Bloodroot flowers.   Both as the plants emerge from the soil and on cold, gray days, the leaves curl protectively around their flower stem.

Large Flowered Bellwort

Large-Flowered Bellwort often looks wilted.  Nestled among the limp but freshly green foliage are the exquisitely spiral petals of an ornate bell.

Minnesota Dwarf Trout Lily

Here and there, one finds rare Minnesota Dwarf Trout Lily, an endangered wildflower found naturally near the Cannon and Zumbro Rivers in southeastern Minnesota.  With flower stalk barely reaching the height of the leaves, its flowers are the most diminutive feature of the plant.  The bell-like flower delicately hangs from an arching shepherd’s crook.

On the pond below the Snyder Building, floating duckweed and the reflected trunk and boughs of surrounding trees create a mirage of trees dusted with light green and gray green spring growth.    Looking above, I see that warming spring temperatures are bringing this vision to fulfillment.

Greg Lecker is a Minnesota Master Naturalist Volunteer.

 

Twilight Time

By Boak Wiesner

I found myself at the Arboretum at a completely different time of day than is typical for me on Tuesday – the evening. So I wondered if I’d have time to go explore before twilight set in. And that got me thinking about twilights. There’re three, you know, not counting the vampire ones. Consider that the Earth spins once a day on its axis in 24 hours. And in that time, a location on the surface will rotate through 360 degrees. So that’s 15 degrees an hour. 15 degrees of angular distance in the sky can be measured easily by stretching out the index and last finger on your hand and holding it at arm’s length. That’s about 15 degrees, how fast the sun appears to move across the sky. Okay, so, measuring up from the horizon… taking into account the slant of the ecliptic… Yep, I have plenty of time, over an hour.

Sunset on the Prairie

The three kinds of twilight occur in 6 degree increments. First, there’s civilian twilight, from sunset to 6 degrees after. From then ’til 12 degrees, it’s nautical twilight. From there until 18 degrees, it’s astronomical twilight. And then, it should be dark. Ah, that darkness – it all depends on where on the Earth you are. The farther north one is, the longer the twilight lasts. The Scots, who live much farther north than Minnesotans, even have a name for it: the gloaming. Which term is used a lot allegorically to represent the end of some time of things together. Folks on the equator never get to experience the gloaming like us of northern latitudes.

Prime Frog-Breeding Habitat

What also happens in the evenings in the spring is that frogs are out and singing. The most commonly heard these days is the Chorus Frog, whose call sounds like running a thumbnail down the big teeth of a comb. I heard Wood Frogs, too, calling out ‘pah-duck, pah-duck’ which sounds like the quacking of ducks. Northern Leopard frogs, with their subtle calls like slow burping, are just out, too, and maybe some Spring Peepers. The fact that these different species call at different times of the spring is an example of Temporal Isolation and may have been one of the contributing factors in their divergent evolution from some anuran ancestor.

The picture doesn’t show any frogs, only what their favored habitat is, and that’s a good thing. If I, as a human, with my paltry vision could see them, how much more visible would they be to those predators whose eyesight is far sharper? I’d rather just hear them and picture them in my mind than have them all get eaten, wouldn’t you?

Boak Wiesner is a Minnesota Naturalist volunteer.

 

Moving On

By Richard DeVries

The snow in April saved our Maple Syrup season. It brought some extra moisture and slowed down the spring warm-up.

We ended up with 111 gallons of Arboretum made Pure Maple Syrup. It is the second best year in the books. The record of 118 gallons of syrup in 1994 still stands.

I must admit that it might not be a fair comparison. We now have a hundred trees on a  vacuum system that we did not have in the past.

The sugar content stayed high throughout the season, resulting in a nice amber syrup. I took some samples with the first syrup of the season in the bottle on the left, and the last syrup of the season in the bottle on the right.

First and Last Bottle

I hope to hear from other Syrup makers how their production compared to other years. Maybe a hundred gallons will be the new average, maybe this is wishful thinking. I believe most syrup makers had a great season. We will have to get a few years of record keeping to see how the vacuum system is helping us.

The warm weather has ended the season. We pulled all the taps and started the big clean up.

The syrup will be used at next years pancake brunch and it is for sale in the Arboretum gift store.

Bottled Syrup

I guess the time has come to move on. Next on my to-do list; garden clean-up and prairie burns.

 

Spring Has Finally Arrived

By Greg Lecker

Casual visitors to the Arboretum will appreciate the dwarf iris now blooming at the Oswald Visitor Center entry and the daffodils in bud near the Snyder Building foundation.  I encourage you to venture just a bit farther to witness arrival of the season in many native plants.   In the Green Heron Pond Wetland, in the Grace Dayton Woodland Garden, and in the Capen Prairie display garden, spring has finally arrived!

A short walk, made even shorter when Three Mile Drive opens to vehicles in the near future, leads one to the Sensory Garden.  From there one can explore a woodland of Sugar Maple, Hemlock, Blue Beech, and Kentucky Coffeetree.  Looking down, I see white and pale colored wildflowers stand in contrast to the brown and tan leaf litter.

Snow Trillium

Snow Trillium is positively fanatical in its mastery of mathematical multiples of “three”.  The Schoolhouse Rock “ear worm”, “Three is a Magic Number” comes to mind.  Three green leaves, three green sepals opening to unfurl three white petals, and finally, a three-part female stigma awaiting the contribution from six anthers bearing the male pollen.

Sharp Lobed Hepatica

Liver-Leaf or Sharp-Lobed Hepatica, which shares an etymological root with the liver disease, was named for the leaf lobes that resemble the organ.  Flowers bloom in white, pink, and pale purple hues.

Virginia Waterleaf

With purplish-red and greenish-violet curled leaves, the emerging foliage of Virginia Waterleaf resembles miniature mesclun.  Other emerging plants include Trout Lily, Wild Leek, Solomon Seal, Allegheny Foamflower, and Dutchman’s Breeches.

A Blue Jay screams “Jayyy!  Jayyy!” as if to underscore my surprise at discovering Pasque Flowers blooming in the Capen Prairie Garden.  Reminding one of the cultivated crocus, the pale purple bloom distinguishes itself with pointed petals covered with white fuzzy hairs as if to provide needed warmth.

Pasque Flower

I walk over to Blue Heron Pond to explore its wetland.  In nasally voices, Canada Geese honk their happiness at being able to dabble at the bottom of open water.   An ermine-white mantle of snow still cloaks the beds of the orchid queens, Showy Lady Slippers.   Within the freshly thawed water of the wetland, I find a few flowers of Skunk Cabbage and Marsh Marigold in bud.  Returning to the Visitor Center via the boardwalk, I’m delighted by the sight of blooming Pussy Willow twigs waving like magic wands ushering in warmth.  Winter is really over.

Greg Lecker is a Minnesota Master Naturalist Volunteer.

End of the Late Syrup Season

This is the first season, in our thirty years of record keeping, that we did not cook any syrup in March. This is also the first season that we are cooking syrup past April 22. It is a late season.

The trees on the south hill stopped giving sap. The pressure gauge connected to the tree read 26 PSI, but not a drop was spilling out of the spile. The tap-hole dried up; it is one of two ways the season ends. People used to think that the tap-hole dried up because the tree was healing. Research shows that bacteria that start growing when it gets warmer plug the tap hole.

The other way the season ends is when the trees start to leaf out. The sap changes and turns bitter when the buds start to swell. The ‘buddy sap’ cannot be used to cook maple syrup.

I am sure we can all agree that we are so lucky that it kept on snowing, right? Temperatures stayed cold and there was not a bud on the tree that considered making a leaf this wonderful springtime.

That is why we are still getting sap from the north side. On Wednesday, we had a great run, and the sap was still crystal clear. Last night we had a little bit of a frost, and I hope it triggered the trees to give some more sap today.

We just cooked gallon number 90. We haven’t made this much syrup since 1997. If we get another good run today we will be pushing a hundred gallons of pure maple syrup. Great for next years Pancake Brunch.

Making syrup

According to the ten day weather forecast, spring might finally be here. Without frosty nights we won’t get sap and the leaves on the trees will appear soon. The Maple syrup season at the Arboretum will come to an end by the end of this week.

After this great Maple syrup season I am finally ready for spring. I am looking forward to see the Snow Trilliums bloom. Their big flower buds have been covered by snow three times this spring.

Snow Trilliums and Hepatica

Duped by Spring?

By Mary Beth Pottratz

Two turkey vultures glide silently overhead as I enter the Visitor Center. I usually check the Nature Notes board in the lobby to discover which birds and animals are active, and what important plants are budding or blooming or seeding next.

Snow trilliums expected to bloom by the end of the week! This petite native wildflower can be found blooming as early as March. As a herald of spring in the forest, it’s one of my favorites.

I head towards the woodland garden. Sunlight shines along the roadside and the gardens beyond, sparkling on a fresh four-inch layer of unseasonable snow. A cedar waxwing perches atop a bare branch, enjoying this sunny, 39-degree day.

Cedar waxwing

A dead hermit thrush lies on the woodland trail. This bird migrates north from Mexico and states south of Illinois, where it summers in northern Minnesota and Canada. It seems unharmed, as though it would fly off if touched.

I wonder what caused its demise. Was this migrator unable to find the types of insects, berries and buds that comprise its diet? Or was the thrush duped by spring, unable to weather the late snowstorm and plunging temperatures of the week?

The woodland garden, too, is layered in several inches of fresh, heavy wet snow. There will be no snow trilliums today. I, too, am duped by spring!

Ghostly hoots of a great-horned owl echo from the forest above. Its typical five-hoot call pattern hoo hoo-hoo hoo hoo hoo is followed by an atypical elongated hoooo-hoooo call. The same call is given a few times, several minutes apart.

Uphill I go, hoping to see this large, eared bird. The Nature Notes board had sported a photo of this large bird’s nest, its “ears” peeking over the side. Will I find the nest?

Neal & Maria

No. But instead, I find Neal and Maria talking and laughing heartily, warm on their bench under a thick lap robe off Woodland Trail. Spring isn’t duping them at all. Oblivious to cold, they are still there an hour later as I return!

Small patches of brown grass appear along Three-Mile Drive in places the sun has now melted through. Several determined robins are actually pulling dinner (worms? Insects?)  out of the frozen ground!

With similar determination, I head to the Spring Peeper Meadow in hopes of seeing the pied-billed grebe listed on the Nature Notes board. I find robins perching in sumac, a muskrat swimming the pond, and a few geese on the open water. Several American coots, their white bills standing out against their black feathers, paddle the edges and disappear into the cattails.

A commotion in the sedges draws my attention. An eastern phoebe performs an unusual dance. Perching on a cattail, this dark-headed bird suddenly flits to a perch a few feet away, low to the ground. It flaps its wings quickly, shakes the plant for several seconds, pecks at the plant and then flies off to a new spot. What a technique to locate and feed on insects!

The pond water is high, rising slightly above the boardwalk in a few spots. At its center, the boardwalk is heavily spotted with evidence of geese. Had the geese sheltered on the walk during the prior night’s storm?

Almost immediately I have the answer. Around the next corner is a large, white goose egg, sitting in a quarter-inch of icy water on the boardwalk.

Lynn Ann at Spring Peeper Meadow

This goose and the thrush are both duped by spring, as am I in my search for trilliums. But not the robins and the phoebe, who find dinner; nor Neal and Maria, who find plenty of warmth and camaraderie. Nor I and my friend Lynn Ann, who enjoyed a beautiful day at the Arb.

Mary Beth Pottratz is a Minnesota Master Naturalist Volunteer. More information about the Master Naturalist Volunteer program is available at www.minnesotamasternaturalist.org.