5/3/17

4:45 pm

Mostly sunny, low tide, 75 degrees F

Recurring shot

Today is one of those days where you feel immediately great after stepping outside. Not a cloud in sight, warmer than room temperature but with a breeze that relieves you of any discomfort. Before I biked over to Discovery, I was in the library deriving an equation for intensity of a three slit diffraction pattern. It began taking much longer than I’d expected and I was surprised at how anxious I was feeling about the fact I was missing the weather. Luckily, the sun’s out until late evening now so I’ve still got plenty of time.

Shameless selfie of yours truly

The sensory stimuli of my site have drastically changed from my last visit. The stream pouring down from the bluff is notably louder, and the chirps of birds fill the air almost without pause. I’ve seen lots of big, black bees flying from newly bloomed flowers, adding their loud buzzes to the mix. The aromas of the tide-flats and multitude of flowers, assisted by the sun, smell like gaseous happiness and fertility. The canopy and forest floor are now thickly saturated with greens of all shades, creating a shield of incredibly comfortable shade. I’m excited to learn about birds, because I’m hearing some intricate, melodic calls.

Now that I’ve taken the plant ID exam, I realize how grateful I am to have been thoroughly assessed on my plant knowledge. Now I can read the environment like a book in a second language: I recognize most plants and their various ethnobotanical and identification characteristics (words and meanings), although it is still difficult at times and there are some unknowns (foreign/not-studied plants).

After a 30 minute walk around an area  150 feet in diameter centered about where I’m sat, I didn’t find as much diversity as I’d expected. Far and away the most common tree, as I’ve stated, is Bigleaf Maple (Acer Macrophyllum), although I did find a few very small, almost shrub-like Red Alder (Alnus rubra). I came across two small tree that I am unable to identify—they have leathery leaves like those on a Madrone, but lacked the characteristic bark and other key features. One of the trees (which is certainly different from the other) had some leaves that has smoothe edges, and others that curved into sharp spikes on the perimeters. The most common shrub is undoubtedly Indian-Plum (Oemleria cerasiformis). 

Indian-plum

I also encountered a few Beaked Hazelnut (Corylus cornuta) mostly around streams. I found plenty of Sword Fern (Polysticum munitum), although they are certainly not as abundant as they are in Ravenna, and many of them appear reddish and dry—perhaps this environment isn’t as wet as they’d prefer. There were also a fair amount of Stinging Nettle spread broadly across the area. 

Leaves of a tree I failed to identify

Closer to the shore, Common Horsetail becomes incredibly common. The rest of what I found were unknown to me, mostly small flowery or vine-like plants that cover the ground thickly. I will post photos of these to iNaturalist.

Wow! I just heard a distant, loud crack and when I looked I saw a tall maple tree slowly descending, crackling as it collided with nearby trees.

I have also been consistently witnessing a very large, dark eagle. I’d guess it’s a (bald) eagle at least, but I haven’t got a clear enough view to be able to distinguish it.

 Here are three poems about things I witnessed today at/around my site:

Barnacles on a ball

Barnacles on a ball

Just like us all

Going wherever our rock is thrown

Competing to thrive for reasons unknown

There’s just enough space upon the rock face

Given our predecessors are at some point erased

Barnacles don’t meet many others

They don’t keep in touch with their brothers

Stagnant, they grow and develop

Clinging on to the stone they envelop

They live indecisively between land and sea

Their schedules are synced up alongside gravity

A barnacle’s not nearly as large as a cloud,

But it still should be known how well it’s endowed

Hardly impressive, a creature quite shy

But more than it seems, it's just like you and I.

Water Displaced

A Heron is wading on the shore, looking intently for dinner.

In the distance an enormous freight ship moves at a substantial rate.

What does the Heron think it is?

A boxy behemoth like a felled skyscraper that makes its slow trek across unimaginable expanses.

Fueling the economy that sustains our societies and ties our world together.

But to the Heron it's probably just a moving island. A place to excrete and catch an updraft.

Her stalky legs stalk the glimpses she catches of endangered fish.

When she arrived, she perched herself atop a rock in the ocean

That the low tide had permitted to emerge.

First, a spectacular stillness…

              …then a gradual ssswoop

And Splash! She emerges victorious.

A victory like that of waking up in the morning: daily, but essential.

As she continued searching for prey, the waves grew suddenly and 

began crashing loudly against the shore. They had been created by the boat from before.

They were large enough that they went over the rock

and rudely slapped against the body of the elegant being.

Annoyed, she cawed and flew to land, needing to spread her magnificent wings for nothing.

A small price to pay in the eyes of the merchants, but

imagine being dowsed with Sound water as you sit down at a restaurant.

Once the waves had settled, she set out again.

Flying right above the water, her wings taste the salty water

never once piercing the surface.

In the distance is the Land of the Gods, illuminated pink by the setting sun.

Past eons have let Earth reach for the sky,

just a bit further than this creature's neck.

Mecha-Crawler

It looks just like a miniature shield, crawling around with freedom.

If only size wasn't relative, that steel plated back would ward off any foe,

but alas,

one quick crunch and this ancient creature is done.
It is belittled by children, given silly cutesy names,
but given the chance, it'll like attempt to eat us alive.

It lives in a society, complex like our own.

Hordes of masses that have found their niche and perfected their lifestyle.

No words exchanged, no knowledge passed, they're simply given instructions written in their nuclei.

Who reads them?

Who writes them?

"Proteins?"

It doesn't seem efficient, but they can catalyze progress in exchange for their lives.

This animate aegis makes me ponder infinity

For I am infinitely different, exponentially more conscious.

But compared to an alder, this walking speck of nothing is the god of freedom,

Seeing, eating, going how it wants to.
It wanders and lives in the holes of snags
It emerges anonymous, it could be any one of them
Minus the Queen.

This creature is spectacular, just brutally condemned

To be tiny, crunchy, and deliciously helpless

And filthy.

Were it our size, we'd bow down to the ironclad death turtles,

Living tanks that can fall from skyscrapers

The ultimate predator, an impenetrable monster

If only the fittest weren't the cowardly, tumbly, underground smidgens.