Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Outside The House, Visitors Too Early?

It's pretty cool for us yet, though extra warm for this part of MN this early. So while we haven't spent much time out of the house, aside from going to the store for groceries and stuff, we're still noticing what is there.  For example, first blades (singular and sparse) of grass are greening up in extra warm locations, like along the big boulder next to the driveway out in the sun. No typical first spring flowers are emerging yet however, like the scilla which normally turn the lawn blue, so thick are they. After those come crocus, daffodils, violets and dandelions paired with tulips, and on we go, marching through the blooming calendar. For now, a few blades of grass.

No snow. It has fallen a few times, we're told. It's melted within a couple days, instead of keeping the soil cold and moist. There are not huge piles like most years which have been plowed back into distant corners of big box store parking lots. Not even detritus piles from snow sit there, having been collected but melting fast, the kind kids like to march around looking for dropped pennies or - hopefully - better treasures.

Today and yesterday the highs are in the low 60s. Where usually there are ice pockets along the edges of the roads where a bit of thawing and refreezing have happened underneath, leaving white ice ready to crunch under every step of even the smallest children on their way by, now it's plain pavement. I clearly recall going out of my way in spring mornings to jump on those and break the ice surfaces with satisfying noises before school, or even as an adult where jumping gave way to plain old trodding across the surfaces. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

No such opportunities exist this spring. What will our grandchildren tell their kids about early springs' delights?

Those are replaced this year by new sounds. I don't have to step outside the house to hear and identify them, so plain and unique are they. Sandhill cranes are flying overhead, have now for several days. Normally they come in early April. I timed it one year because the local fire department was having a training exercise with the fire department of a neighboring town. An abandoned house was "donated" for use to them for starting fires and  using their equipment to put them out quickly and safely. It was done three separate times that day. Later a development would be built there, but this day it was just firemen, and city government folks.

That's how I was there, on that particular April 4th Saturday, when all the fire department volunteers arranged to be off their regular jobs for the event. Our assistant clerk was the wife of the other town's fire department's operator of their brand new 104 foot tall high ladder bucket. With their blessing both she and I rode up in it and observed the proceedings. I was there with a camera, taking pictures of the action, chatting, having a great time overall, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I also happened to be our town's Mayor, one special day out of my 8 years of service in that position. The camera belonged to the city, and all the pictures went to them and the other town to be shared and evaluated from this higher perspective. 

At one quiet point in the activities, a sandhill crane flew overhead, making it's primordial croaking  sound. It didn't appear to be one of the pair which had recently (the previous year? Two?) which had started nesting next to the city's sewer ponds, raising chicks, or rather "colts". This one was heading in a pretty straight line towards a Wisconsin nature center 30 driving miles away called Crex, soon to become a favorite getaway for me with a camera and occasionally a friend. I'd just begun to identify what they were at that time, and was informed they also nested in our city and this was their usual spring appearance time.

I knew in future years to look for them near April 1st. This year I'm hearing them much earlier. Considering what little I can observe in the environment right now, I worry for them. What is there for them to eat this early? They are omnivores, eating plants and critters. But they stay in the fall until they've pretty well cleaned up all the farmer-dropped grains in fields, and insects and small reptiles and amphibians have settled in for their winder snooze. What might be emerging this early? Yes, temperatures are higher, but even the bugs aren't out yet so what's a hungry frog to eat so it can stick around to feed a crane?

The problem is climate change, and the mis-match of living things that end their winters either by calendar dates or by temperatures. They have evolved to match their emergence to that of their pollinators -in the case of plants - or their food supply in the case of animals. Bees are missing their pollen producers but we're trying to make up for it by getting communities to go along with "No Mow Mays" so flowers are around as long as possible in early spring. That's great but it's March now. Monarch butterflies are missing their marks in recent years, with milkweed plants flowering - in our yard at least, where they are encouraged - early in summer or late spring, with no butterflies sighted until July. By then the flowers have all gone to seed, pods are formed and fattening, and no nectar awaits the butterflies' arrivals to tell them this is the place to rest, eat, and lay their eggs where tender new leaves will greet the new caterpillars. Tough old leaves are in place instead.

We drove through Nebraska a week ago. Flocks of sandhills were airborne, though I didn't want to credit their presence this early. When I finally caught a solid view of several circling flocks and identified them, my heart sank. Normally late March is when the people gather to watch them en masse, take pictures, and see them lift for northern destinations. I'd hoped the cranes would stick around the Platte for a couple more weeks at least. It seems my wishes have no effect on crane flights. Now I can only hope they can find the nourishment they need to lay eggs and raise colts for this coming year.

And that in the long run, it will still matter.

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