Father's Day

Nice Father's Day stroll down along the Canadian River this evening. Started out after dinner, after the brief showers had ended. I parked and set out directly towards the power lines on a new loop, forgetting mosquitoes. Shortly arrived at the river and they reminded  me of their presence, in enough numbers that I realized it would not be pleasant to stay. I retreated the 5-6 minutes back to the car and doused myself with DEET. Mosquitoes magically disappeared.
I stood there and watched a sector of the sky with a fiery, multi-layered sunset 'this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire', and reflected back on earlier days. I remembered walks there when Liz was working late, with Russell and Sarah when they were young.. memories. I thought about my experience then of the same place.. about hopes for future, ideas, plans, inspirations, ambitions. Twenty years later my thoughts were not gleams of bright possible future hopes.. but memories of people and times gone by. Both the hope for the future and the memories of past, enrich our experience of a landscape.
May be this is the best definition of when a person is young vs old. When they are looking forward with ambition, inspiration and hope vs when they are looking back with nostalgia and happiness or resignation.
I walked, returning to the river, only this time it is different. In the late light/ early dark I see a shape floating past in the swift current. It looks like the head of a beaver 20 feet away. Tail slap!

Green Cinnamon

Down to the river this morning, half unwilling or unmotivated; but knowing that whenever I go, it is good.
Stepping out of the car in the dawn coolness there is a fresh scent of cinnamon-like, greenness. The roadside flora is Johnson grass, poison ivy, cottonwoods and summer asters, Helianthus and Coreopsis. The smell of the morning carries these fresh plant odors. Already a surprise and an invitation, more to experience. Walking down the sand and clay jeep road towards the river, I am struck by how little rain there has been. Yesterday afternoon NE Norman had a strong thunderstorm and nearly an inch of rain. Here near the river there was less than 0.05 inch.
At the junction with the west trail a cottontail rabbit sat quiet and alert facing me, unmoving.  Its brown blurred into the surrounding soil, but stood out as too homogeneous a patch of color. With glasses I watched the face and tall ears and sang a hello, good morning. It rotated its right ear towards me but did not otherwise move. I admired it and then left it in peace.
I walked east toward the sun. It was obscured by morning clouds. Down the sandy levee to the first view of the river. A lone cattle egret with jaunty, white mohawk and plumage, black legs and bright yellow feet. The bird looked at me but did not move from its hunting post and pose. I watch for a moment longer and it started stepping fairly quickly towards the sand bar and then began stabbing or scooping at the river. Likely a school of minnows and the egret was busy fishing. The charm of wild free creatures, in the environment, whether that be a preserve or a river by medium sized city. They come and go, do as they please and survive or vanish by their nature.
On the other bank of the river a pair of kingfishers flew up into the bare branches of a standing snag. A great blue heron took off from its perch in the same tree, complaining with its loud squawk. Why do they squawk as they fly? Can't think of a reason.
  The Oenothera evening primrose were in full light yellow bloom in large patches all along. A few Chamaecrista partridge pea with richer yellow were also blooming. Willows and all the young green cottonwoods or older Cornus drummondii, rough-leaved dogwoods were abundant with white berries forming on the dogwoods.
Interesting fresh poop (raccoon? opossum? ) along the jeep road and tracks in the moist sand made me wonder about who (all) had been walking there hours earlier in the night and gone to shelter and sleep before dawn.
  I returned to the gate and headed back for breakfast, knowing again why walks in nature are good.

Cool River Morning Surprises

It has been hot here. This week's daily highs were mostly 98-102 F or 36-39 C.
I went early this morning before sunrise down to the river.
Walking from the dry sand levee, across the shallow sand bar, the first, ankle-deep water was cool from the night and early dawn. Stepping off the sand bar into the deeper, warmer current was like stepping into mild bath water. It carried the heat of the past week.

Walking the sand bars and narrow channels or backwaters across on the southern side of the river, I found a big turtle hauled up on a sand bar. I thought it would be a mature red-eared slider; but it was a different species, I did not recognize. I picked it up and turned it on its side to look at the neck and was surprised when he stuck his head out and did not retreat. I set him back down and he watched me as I walked on down the sand bar towards the sun.

Where the channel was deeper I sat and then floated along silently in the shallow 2 ft deep water. I was suddenly surprised by passing a beaver up on the bank in some dense reeds 6 feet from me. The beaver was surprised too, panicked and dropped into the water jetting straight at me,  then 3 feet from me, powerfully turned (under water) and disappeared in the brown river.

The beautiful American Ruby Spot damselflies were out by the dozen and one Ebony Jewelwing all along the river bank perched on the tips of the of the reeds. No birds, other than a flock of a dozen Canada geese flying over. Often there are egrets and herons out foraging.

Cool big yellow and black bumblebees were out foraging for early morning nectar/ pollen breakfast in the yellow partridge peas along the white sand levee.

Morning at the River

   Warm, plant-scented, humid air. Inch and a half of rain day and a half ago. Dew on the tall Johnson grass and sunflowers as I walk down the old jeep road to the river. Rich herb odor from Ambrosia giant ragweed(?) The cry of a red-tailed hawk hunting or circling over the over-grown gallery forest of cottonwood and red-osier dogwood.
   I can't remember ever regretting a trip to the river. Getting down there often is an effort of will. But it is easy, just 1.5 miles down one road and I am there. It is an effort like life, every day is an effort; but the rewards are rich and wonderful. The fresh green small leaves and rich purple flowers of Verbena. The ranks of tall, yellow-blooming Oenothera, evening primrose. The pale white small morning glory-shaped flowers of Heliotropium
  The clean light sand of the levee path had been cleared and reset by the rain. The few tracks there were new from animals last night or yesterday. I took off my flip flops and walked into the turbid water. This morning, the river was up waist-deep and running turbid, brown, filled with chalky red silt. A pair of green herons flew up from the river bank to the bare old cottonwood snag standing on the far side. They remained with me for my hour, at a safe distance. Maybe they were curious.
  On the far (SW) side a quieter backwater channel had a fresh layer of clay capping and covering the more anoxic sediments below. Methane bubbled up here and there as I stepped through. At the shallower end, two turtles watched warily, only their snouts visible above the surface. They ducked quickly under, long before I was close enough to see more. A narrow, frequently-used, muskrat path crossed the soft mud mini-levee and ascended into vegetation. At the upstream end of the backwater, a gaggle of calopterygid damselflies were flitting and lighting on twigs and branches of the old tree hanging over and into the water. American rubyspot, Hetaerina.
  Walking back into deeper, faster flow; I let myself drift, just barely touching the bottom with my backside and steering by dragging one finger on the sand I was floating above. What a luxury ride! With no effort, to be floating silently pass the nearby wonders on the bank. A turtle's-eye view.
A sudden rub of a smooth, powerful body against my foot was an unseen fish I surprised in the turbid water,  dashing away.
  Down river, the stronger current carried me above the deeper water and I swam 20 feet, to reach the sand bar hidden in the middle of the river. I ascended from chin deep and chest deep water to waist deep and then mid calf. Beautiful to stand in the middle of the flowing river and watch white cattle egrets flying down the river past me.
  Out, up on the bank, I passed a few nests of turtle eggs, or what remained, the white, parchment-like shells of turtle eggs. Most of these nests had been discovered and dug up by some predator, a racoon?
Back through the willows and young cottonwoods and on my way out, going back home again. Richer for the hour with the morning and the river.

It's all here

Out to the River early on a Sunday morning, Labor Day weekend, the world of humans is sleeping in. By the river I am greeted by a tent with snoozing occupant. I pass on by. The cool green water beckons, the deeper narrow channel just off the intermittent stream sand delta. I step in and open to the real world. Across the river, large sand flats are barely submerged.. water depth 2 inches or less and a thin coat of flocculent algae is blooming under the warm, nutrient-rich water. Corixid water boatmen are as thick as fleas scooting underwater and feeding on the rich algae. Minnows too, probably enjoying the algae and the corixids. A few killdeer with their white vests and black necklines watch me and then fly, zooming low over water and sand, crying as they go.
There is everywhere up the river life and and things happening. On the northeastern sandy jeep road I come across the largest red-eared slider turtle I've seen this year. Their track has flattened the sand with the dragging of the plastron. Looked like it was temporarily blocked on its return to the river by a steep sandy bank. I pick it up and give a small toss up on top of the levee under some cottonwoods.
I watch a Bembex sand wasp busy excavating like a dog digging sand, flying out behind it in sand that was too loose. After 3-4 attempts with no success and just moving sand around the little wasp flew off in search of a firmer sand bank. Out in the water a beaver cut stick floats past my ankle and I turn in time to see a small black snout just barely out of the water on the other side. It looks like a largish snake that does not see me. It begins to cross the main current towards me and I move towards it until it sees me and heads upstream. But the current is too strong and I come up to the 2 foot long snake swimming energetically under water. I lift it quickly with my stick and toss it a couple feet out of the water and glimpse the yellow brown belly and unmarked olive green brown back before it falls back to the water and swims swiftly away. There is so much here. numerous viceroys on the flowers along the sandy levee road, golden rod, white boneset, one pink Pluchea. I see one damaged viceroy, the front leading apex of its left wing has been pecked away, perhaps by the near miss of a passing bird. Its back left wing also is missing a section. I wonder how it can fly if its aerodynamics are so altered. I've seen quite a few damaged viceroys these few weeks and it makes me wonder if viceroys may be suffering because monarch numbers are down and the mimicry of a poisonous or distasteful model may not be providing viceroys the normal protection. I wonder how general a phenomenon this might be.. the linking of the success and problems of mimics with their model.
It is remarkable that so much is here.. by a busy western/ southern town/city of 119,000. So much wildlife leading wild lives undeterred by 85,000 fans who have come to town to cheer for the first football game of the year. I can't remember having ever seen so many frogs as there have been all along the shallow bank of the river. They hop away in a panic as I walk along the sand and mud silty edge of the river bar close by the bank.

Evening River

A Tuesday evening, tired from a full day, I decided to go to the river for renewal. 8 PM the sun going down on a good day. Stepping across the gate and walking down the old jeep road, the yellow flowers of the tall Grindelia gumweed are noticeably closed, at least petals stand erect, closing off the central disk flowers. The world's tallest giant r,agweed stand (not really, but it is 2-3 m high) is releasing bright golden yellow pollen. Woe to those afflicted with autumn hay fever. Stepping through the green tunnel and out onto the levee, the warm white sand is unusually soft this evening.
At the river's edge the water is cutting more and more into the bank I first come to, where once there was a 10- 15 foot 'beach'. Now the current flow has moved against the sandy cliff of the levee.
  Across the water a great blue heron flies up complaining with a hoarse croak about my late visit to the river. I can imagine the complaint something like, 'What are you doing here now? This is the time for the natives, the ones who have always lived here for the last centuries or more, back to a time of nature. Now is their time. What are you doing here?'
  The bare, dead trees up above the far bank are silhouetted against the silver sky and more interesting and beautiful in silhouette than their full-leafed neighbors. The river continues to drop, exposing more, more expansive sand bars in mid channel. The flow now winds principally in smaller deep channels to the side or still in the center.
  Stepping in to the water the temperature is mildly warm, a result of the long string of low 90F days. But on of the river there are bands of cooler water, cooling with evening. I wade across the water and the sand bars to the far bank and the deeper channel. I walk my sometimes/ frequent morning route there but see no damselflies. I do see the snout of a water snake swimming upstream, I scare away.
There is one place by the old concrete rip rap where the water is still chin deep,. but after it shelves out to a broader shallow spread of water. I turn to return and see the silhouette of a large darner dragonfly above the water with a hunting night hawk in the sky above. Returning up the jeep road a dozen fireflies are doing their thing. I think about Phenology and Global warming.. and how the May/ June flood may a bit like a quick example of global warming. The river is only now beginning to develop soft beds of algae across much of the bottom. Before the scouring and churning water and sand prevented significant growth. Now there will be food for corixids and other algal feeders, and later for predators feeding on the corixids. This is all starting  and happening about two months later than was the case the previous 4 years. Now autumn is not long in coming.. and the succession is in early stages. What will it be like when the first cold days arrive?

Mid Day Flora and Fauna

Nice Saturday morning. I went to the river at 11 to see the midday natural world.
The walk down the jeep road is lined now with yellow Grindelia gumweed flowers. Oddly, I rarely ever see any pollinators on these flowers. I'll have to ask Phil G. or Michael K. why this may be so. The orange Campsis trumpet vine is still bright and colorful laying on the ground. The Pogonomyrmex ants are busily foraging in a more-or-less straight line down one track of the road. Odd to think that their bite venom is ounce for ounce is more deadly than a rattlesnake.