It occurs to me that humans are quite possibly the only species that make deliberate decisions regarding the existence of other species. I’m not referring to self-survival associated decisions. Its the ones we make to suit our life styles I’m thinking about. We build houses to give ourselves good views and displace or dispose off whatever else lived there before. Land reclamation is casually achieved with no thought to effects on marine life close to shore or shoreline. “If a habitat does not suit, then its presence is moot.” We Homo sapiens do not easily compromise to coexist with other species. Control freaks – that what we are.

And so it came to be in my corner. I’d mentioned in a recent post that a bird was trying to settle into the chandelier above the dining table on the terrace. I was leaning towards letting it do so but other voices relevant in my life were leaning the other way. After all, with the weather warming up, dining outdoors is de rigueur. We wait all through the cold months dreaming of the many hours spent lingering at said terrace. Meals, poker games, painting, reading, rounds of Scrabble, writing and actual face to face conversations, this area is well used. A nest in the chandelier would preclude such happenings for the entire duration of its occupancy. Thus, it was decided that since the nest was not actually built, it would be okay to discourage all attempts to do so. Each evening, as I finished up in the garden, I’d remove the mess of twigs that lay strewn on the table as well as the ragged bits of paper that clung to the tole leafs of the chandelier. Judging from the sheer untidiness and obvious lack of architectural experience, I’d say this was the avian equivalence to a teenage pregnancy. It seemed like bird and I were playing a silly game. She tossed around stuff and I cleaned up. Each of us teasing/tormenting the other. I figured eventually she’d get tired and find another location well out of my reach and sight.

Then, it rained hard for two days straight. With no possibility of gardening, I happily went about my indoor chores. Come the first dry day after the deluge, and there it was – a sturdy nest solidly ensconced in the chandelier. I graciously conceded to the bird. Her determination and persistence to acquire this rather choice site for her future babies demanded and received my deep admiration. As far as I was concerned, Nature had spoken. It was no longer my place to deem where the bird was to build the nest.

The nest looked clearly to be that of a robin. Kind of blocky and functional. Not particularly tidy – fibers and twigs still hanging or sticking out. Robins build that way. I was right. Soon, as I passed by doing my garden tasks, I’d see a robin hover around making disapproving sounds and keeping a keen eye on me. After what had happened between us in the early days, I didn’t blame her.

With a very strong table right beneath, I now had a perfect way to peer into the nest. So clamber atop the table I did. I still fell short by a few inches. With a too-good-to-be-true viewing opportunity such as this, I was frustrated but not put off. I contorted my hands whilst holding the camera and tried to take a photograph of the interior. Since I couldn’t see what my camera was pointed at, I made numerous attempts till my arms and shoulders hurt. Finally, just when I was ready to concede once again, I got the shot I sought. All the while, I was aware of the distressed mama bird making annoyed and anxious sounds. She stayed near by and I half expected her to fly at my face and poke my eyes out. I kept thinking safety glasses were in order.

I’m terribly thrilled to have that photo of four exquisitely perfect, brilliant Robin’s blue eggs but I also have a deep sense of shame and guilt for having traumatized the bird. I had behaved like paparazzi.
Standing a respectful distance from the nest, I asked for forgiveness. From now till the time the eggs hatch, the babies grow and fly away, there will be no dining under the nest. We will move the table to a spot away from it if we want to eat outside. It’ll perforce be in semi-darkness as if to echo the state of human intelligence. C’est la vie.

Along similar lines, a second event occurred this week. My neighbor had a silver maple tree taken down. This tree was huge. At least eighty feet tall and from what a tree expert once told me, it was perhaps close to a hundred years old. Understandably, it was a real presence in our lives. Its branches hung over our back terrace and gave quiet shade in the heat of summer. In the fall, it was the last to shed its leaves and we did not mind our share of them. Small price to pay for its majestic beauty.

Concerned about rot and limbs falling in storms, the owners had the tree removed last week. It took the highly skilled tree guys all day to take it down. Thats how big this tree was. I was already sad when informed the tree was to go but the intensity of my sorrow upon hearing the start of the buzz-saw, surprised me. I hadn’t realized just how much trees mean to me. And this elderly specimen towering over us all had earned its stripes. With the loud, steady thrum in the background, I thought about life, death, loss, love, friendship and so many other things. I offered up my deep gratitude to the tree. I apologized for what was happening to it. I wished it well and hoped it understood why this was happening. Mostly, I asked pardon for all the atrocities committed by my species. The necessary, the excusable, not so excusable as well as the unforgivable.

Être ou pas être?

Today, May 27 is Rachel Carsons birthday. Celebrate by being kind to this amazing, fragile Earth of ours.

How gorgeous are these eggs?

Messy nest of the Robin family.

The big silver maple seen behind the gazebo (under which live the Robins)

Sans the majestic one. I wish I’d known to take more specific pictures of the tree.

Tree cutting in progress

No trace of the tree remains

If you’ve been following my writings at all, you know I am an ardent disciple of nature. I learn all sorts of things by observing and working in the garden, hiking our preserves and generally enjoying the outdoors. Life lessons, science lessons, art lessons. My muse for painting, poetry and other worthwhile pursuits. So, I’m always interested in how others have absorbed and interpreted their understanding in nature. Boy! Have we learned plenty! Without the guidance from Nature, I doubt we’d have come this far.

From the beginning of time, humans have improved their lot by observing their natural surroundings. From eating plants and fruits sought by other animals to keeping warm by covering themselves with what inherently served the animal, man has been an avid student of nature. Early instruments of surgery were fashioned after different beaks of birds – emulating the specific function of the avian proboscis. Our ancestors studied plants and learned to use them for building shelter, water transportation, ammunition, clothing, medicine, cosmetics to name just a few applications. Water sources could be discovered by noting which types of plants grew near water. Not surprisingly, we are still acquiring valuable information and inventing lifesaving/life prolonging/ life enhancing products from the environment. Humans are like the 3M ad – “We didn’t invent ——, we just make it better”.

Consider the Fibonacci numbers or sequence that is applied amongst other things in computer algorithms. In mathematics, Fibonacci numbers, the Golden Ratio and Golden Spiral are commonplace. But, these occur all over the place in nature. It is Nature’s numbering system that makes plants grow efficiently. How leaves are arranged conforms to Fibonacci arrangement and it enables them to maximize their exposure to light. Similarly, seed patterns on sunflowers, pine cones, nautilus shells, our own inner ear spiral are all in Fibonacci patterns. Imagine how much humans have learned to design more efficiently and effectively from just this one mathematical factor!

Bringing matters to current times, there is now a new and better type of bicycle helmet on the market. It is made of intricately engineered paper. Yes, paper. Invented in the UK, it was inspired by the woodpecker. This bird pecks about ten times per second and each peck sustains the same amount of force as us crashing at 50 mph. How then does the woodpecker avoid concussion and further brain injury? Studies showed that there is soft, corrugated cartilage to absorb all the impact. The paper helmet mimics the woodpecker’s crumple zone. It improves upon the more common polystyrene helmets. Very cool right?

The latest and most waterproof material ever made to date was inspired by studying nasturtium leaves. Until recently, the lotus leaf was the gold standard. But upon observing the heightened waterproof character of nasturtium leaves, it was understood that the veins are what make it so additionally effective. Similarly, the Morpho butterfly has ridges on its wings. So, adding ridges to a silicone surface led to this state of the art material. It was invented here in the US and can be used in anoraks, wind turbines and aircraft engines.

Bioplastics from beetles, ink from insects and even bees being trained for cancer detection are all in the works. Apparently, it takes just 20 minutes to train the bees! The mind boggles at all the potential still waiting to be tapped in our great outdoors.

All of this just goes to show that it is incumbent on each of us to fiercely protect our forests, prairies, rivers and lakes. The very air we breathe depends on us doing right by it. At a personal level, we must safeguard our gardens by not only making them beautiful, but rich in natural flora and fauna. Where the soil is free of chemicals, where fruits and vegetables can be consumed directly from the garden, where flowers provide their pollinators only the purest of nectar. A garden where birds, bees, butterflies, bats and other beneficial creatures thrive, is a garden where mankind will thrive.

Don’t forget– my garden is open on May 10 this year!

Rose – petals are in Golden Spiral!

Echinacea – Fibonacci patterns again!

Nasturtium – inspiring scientists.

Lets invite the birds

And the toads

And the butterflies

And native plants