New growth, old visitors

On my pleasant mid-morning bike ride north on Creek Road I notice early growth of grass-like leaves, which I believe are probably crocuses, on the side of the road. I predict by next week these perennial flowering plants will have grown, and hopefully I will see the different color flowers in full bloom. Farther up the creek, a Northern Cardinal flies across the road yards in front of me and lands on a tree branch on the side of the road. I am excited to see the male cardinal, and wonder if they are rare in this area. By the time I reach the red footbridge, to my surprise and delight, four more Northern Cardinals have crossed my path. (I later read that the Northern Cardinal is a permanent resident in the state park and is frequently encountered by visitors.)

As I arrive at my special spot, I notice the grass around the dam station appears significantly greener this week than the depleted dead brown of the earlier winter weeks. I set my bike against the fence. A southerly breeze gives me a whiff of the strong scent of onion. The smell reminded me of a Sunday in February when a friend and I hiked out along the creek past the Nature Center, and I remember smelling a similar scent. Following the smell, we found a green onion patch sprouting from the soft ground near the edge of the creek. Curious, I broke off a scallion and tasted it. A little ways down the creek, my friend knelt down to examine what appeared to be some type of weed. She ripped a handful of leaves off the plant, smelling it. Instinctively, I warned her not to taste it. As this was all happening, a man walked by (he turned out to be my friend’s botany professor), and we asked him what plant it was. Within seconds of looking at the leaves in her hand, he said, “I hope you didn’t eat that! It’s hemlock.” He then started talking about hemlock’s appearance in Shakespeare’s plays as a poison. I found my hike that day incredibly rewarding because my friend is a wildlife conservation major and could identify all types of plants and trees. I made sure to make mental notes, hoping everything I learned would stay with me.

Back at the creek, I examine the green onion patch, which is about 6 inches high off the ground. I wander over to my rock, sit down, and begin to notice more green everywhere—weeds growing around the base of the fence, moss growth on the rocks behind me, grass growing from what once appeared to be lifeless dirt, green brush directly across the creek. Did all of this growth occur within the last week? Or is the green just becoming more and more noticeable to my eyes as spring is underway? Not only can I see springtime unfolding, I can smell it even through my congestion.

I sit on my rock looking, smelling and listening. I hear the sweet sweet sweet towhee tritritritri song of a Song Sparrow, but Canadian geese honk loudly overhead, and drown out the pleasant song. I look up, and see a handful of geese flying in a v-pattern upstream. Two of the geese leave their flock, and their distinct honks become louder. They are quite large, and their long black necks stretch forward and wingspan is wide as they descend toward the creek’s surface. As they approach the water, they glide gracefully about 40 yards, inches above the creek, toward the dam as they slow to a stop right before the rocks drop-off. Gently, they enter the water. One of the geese sticks its head and the upper part of its body under the water, leaving its back end and tail extending in the air above. I assume it is eating something, and later learn Canadian geese eat the silt at the bottom of lakes or other bodies of water. After thinking about how the creek is becoming increasingly polluted over time—probably because of its close proximity to large metropolitan areas, among other reasons—I realize the silt it ingests is most likely contaminated in some way. I wonder what affect this will have on the goose. I watch them for a few minutes, and one goose pulls itself up on a rock as the other follows shortly after.