This edition of the calendar is excerpted from a book titled Nature’s Calendar by Ernest Ingersoll, published in 1900, 110 years ago. Our copy has a handwritten inscription in it, To Katherine, Merry X’mas, Papa, 1900.
“For to be a Naturalist, you maun begin wi’ natur’.” The Ettrick Sheperd
December
December ushers in the winter, sometimes hurriedly and sometimes tardily. An excessive winter, which now and then overcomes nature’s defenses and extensively kills vegetation and animal life, is one of the ways by which she lops off a weak or surplus form and trims down the world of life to normal proportions. The special preparations made to endure the cold are many and ingenious. Such, the botanists say, are the thick scales on the buds of the early leafing trees, which protect the inner parts from influences of moisture and temperature until it shall be safe to throw aside their coverings and push out into freedom. To ward off moisture more effectually, as Gray tells us, buds are sometimes coated with a waxy, resinous exudation, conspicuous on the scales of the poplar and balsam fir. Our weasels turn white, except for the tip of their tail. A suggestive note on this point occurs in Little Beasts of Field and Wood, by William Cram, who says, “The end of the weasel’s tail remains intensely black, and at first thought might be supposed to make the animal conspicuous on the white background of snow, but in reality has just the opposite effect. Place an ermine on new-fallen snow and you will find that the black point holds your eye in spite of yourself, and that at a little distance is is quite impossible to follow the outline of the weasel itself.”
January
Observation is the basis of all scientific work, and is itself both a Science and an Art, although, after all it is nothing more mysterious than the faculty of keeping open at the same time both the eyes and the mind. Apropos of this, Mr. John Burroughs discourses as follows: “It is plain why mountain ash holds its drupes all winter; it is in order that the birds may come and sow the seed. The berries are like small gravel stones with a sugar coating, and a bird will not eat them till he is pretty hard pressed. But in the winter the robins, cedar-birds and bluebirds devour them readily, and lead their wings to scatter the seed far and wide.” Spiders pass the winter in more or less activity, according to their natures and the degree of cold. You may find some abroad any day this month, even running about on the snow, but for the most part they are hidden away under stones and logs. The winter plumage of our northern birds, such as may be seen in a mid-December ramble, is denser and more closely interlocked than that which follows the spring molt, and it is almost always duller in hue, too, and hence less conspicuous. In ducks, it is the underwear of winter down which loosens in the spring that is plucked out and utilized by the females as bedding for their eggs. There grows on the toes of the ruffed grouse fringes of sharp points which act as snowshoes. The feathers which clothe the feet of the ptarmigan, whose home is on lofty mountain-tops, are much broader and stiffer in winter than in summer, thus forming real snowshoes.
February
Nature is still resting and recuperating in the long sleep begun in December, but the good that it is doing her we cannot easily see as we walk abroad, unless we make careful and continuous observations. February, north of the Ohio River at least, must be nearly passed before we can perceive the first sign of spring that is openly encouraging. Mid winter is the time when the four-footed fur-bearers are at their best. The deer wander as widely as the snow permits, and frequently approach human settlements, mingling with cattle in search of fodder. Among the wilder ranges and forests, pumas and lynxes remain to remind us of the time when they were so common that it was difficult for the pioneers to keep their flocks and herds intact during the winter. But the howl of the wolf, mingling with the whine of the wind as it hurtles the snow against the cabin window, no longer, as it used to do, adds an eerie sense of peril to the woodlander or prairie settler. Most birds migrate each autumn to the warmer South. It is exceedingly fortunate that all the birds do not leave us in this month of outward desolation, for nothing so much as their cheerful presence in the February fields helps to keep alive in our hearts the sense of summer.
March
Our March is usually more wintry than spring-like, and the coming forward of plant life is provokingly slow and uncertain. Nevertheless its progress is sure, and presently will quicken. Roots are at work again, drawing sustenance into the stems of shrubs and trees. Just when this begins, or how fast it proceeds, is hidden from our eyes. “No mortal,” remarks Thoreau, “is alert enough to be present at the first dawn of spring.” But the experienced observer notes the change in the appearance of the woods, he sees a peculiar brightening of color in the contour-twigs of the groves and swamps, and by the middle of the month the ruddy hue of the leafless cottonwood crowns is plain for half a mile. This reddishness is due less to the twigs, however, than to the catkins which appear long before the leaves, as also do the catkins of the aspen; and the bees hum about them for their earliest spring feast. Now too is the time for “pussies,” the drooping, fuzzy catkins of the willows, alders and birches, which children love to gather.
“For to be a Naturalist, you maun begin wi’ natur’.” The Ettrick Sheperd
December
December ushers in the winter, sometimes hurriedly and sometimes tardily. An excessive winter, which now and then overcomes nature’s defenses and extensively kills vegetation and animal life, is one of the ways by which she lops off a weak or surplus form and trims down the world of life to normal proportions. The special preparations made to endure the cold are many and ingenious. Such, the botanists say, are the thick scales on the buds of the early leafing trees, which protect the inner parts from influences of moisture and temperature until it shall be safe to throw aside their coverings and push out into freedom. To ward off moisture more effectually, as Gray tells us, buds are sometimes coated with a waxy, resinous exudation, conspicuous on the scales of the poplar and balsam fir. Our weasels turn white, except for the tip of their tail. A suggestive note on this point occurs in Little Beasts of Field and Wood, by William Cram, who says, “The end of the weasel’s tail remains intensely black, and at first thought might be supposed to make the animal conspicuous on the white background of snow, but in reality has just the opposite effect. Place an ermine on new-
January
Observation is the basis of all scientific work, and is itself both a Science and an Art, although, after all it is nothing more mysterious than the faculty of keeping open at the same time both the eyes and the mind. Apropos of this, Mr. John Burroughs discourses as follows: “It is plain why mountain ash holds its drupes all winter; it is in order that the birds may come and sow the seed. The berries are like small gravel stones with a sugar coating, and a bird will not eat them till he is pretty hard pressed. But in the winter the robins, cedar-
February
Nature is still resting and recuperating in the long sleep begun in December, but the good that it is doing her we cannot easily see as we walk abroad, unless we make careful and continuous observations. February, north of the Ohio River at least, must be nearly passed before we can perceive the first sign of spring that is openly encouraging. Mid winter is the time when the four-
March
Our March is usually more wintry than spring-
February 1: 7-9 PM (for 6 Mondays)- Annual Conservancy course, this one titled “Secrets of the Shrub-Steppe, at the Twisp pub, register with the Methow Conservancy (MC), 996-2870.
February 20: 9AM-2PM- Ecology of Winter, an easy ski/snowshoe with Dana Visalli, $15, call MC at 997-2870 or DV at 997-9011.
May 13-16: Naturalist’s Retreat with ornithologist Libby Mills & botanist Dana Visalli $130; call MC or DV.
May 23: Annual Migratory Bird Count, an opportunity to enjoy the sight and song of our newly arriving neo-tropical migrants. Participants can choose to be out for several hours or most of the day. Free, no experience necessary. 997-9011
July 12-16: 18th annual Methow River Camp, a 5-day adventure-ecology camp for children 10-13. Cost $325; some scholarships for Methow children available. A few pictures from previous years posted at this website; write dana at methownet.com for more information.
May 23: Annual Migratory Bird Count, an opportunity to enjoy the sight and song of our newly arriving neo-
Nature’s Calendar
