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Alive & KickingDiscovering the Unobvious |
It was my teacher-mother who helped me learn to enjoy observing the natural world. She could be excited about a bird, a flower, a frog or even the first pussywillow in the spring. We often took picnics in a woodlot that we called a park.
There were moss-covered rocks, spring flowers, large trees and a simple rope swing. In the spring, a trickle of water formed a few shallow pools.
My anticipation was high as we approached the park, the buds of yesterday were opening, birds were active, there were wigglers in the ponds; each was visited. I learned that creatures had names; these were reviewed daily. By looking carefully, we could discover the unobvious. Questions followed.
Photo by John Cooke
I still treasure special moments when nature provides unique joy to brighten the day. I tuck these experiences away, stored in a special mental place, subject to recall. I'm sure you, too, have stories to tell.
While hoeing the corn, my young eyes saw a spider make tracks toward a dime-sized hole in the fi rm soil; he entered and a perfectly round door snapped shut behind him. A Trap-door Spider had entered my world. I left his home un-hoed in respect of his privacy and our mutual secret.
As a lad, perhaps 12 years old, a bit aware of the solitude and alone in the big woods, a strange noise spooked me. It was a heart-stopping, thumping-whirring sound.
My first impulse was to run, but curiosity won the day. Down on all fours like a fox, I moved silently toward a big stump and the sound. Carefully, slowly, I peeped through the tangle to see a grouse standing tall and beating with his wings against his body. I learned later that it was called drumming. Why would a grouse do such a thing?
I had borrowed a simple microscope, dipped a water sample from a pond and found more life than I knew existed, mostly onecelled creatures. The find of the day was an amoeba. It was microscopic, just a speck with the unaided eye.
The amoeba flowed along through the water, its form everchanging, from a pancake shape to a pancake with fingers. Then it would retract some of its fingers and proceed to elongate just one or two, constantly changing, but always the same.
My many hours spent at a microscope have not been wasted:
I became acquainted with Euglena, bacteria, Spirogyra, Volvox, etc. What a big world is this smaller world that Minnesotans choose for swimming partners!
Birds are almost everywhere.
Some people see them, some people miss out. I met an owl once. A student brought him to me in a cardboard box after seeing it become a pile of feathers, rearranged by a U.S. mail truck.
It proved to be a Saw-whet owl, six inches tall, defiant, indignant, beak-clicking, wideeyed .with a drooping wing. We called him Spook; it was close to Halloween.
Spook was not to be denied, so we fixed him up with a chunk of rug, a paper maché HO-scale train tunnel for seclusion and made a soft leather sling for his wounded wing; a tiny button and a soft leather strap circled the base of his healthy wing. He seemed to like the support; perhaps he felt less pain.
He was an instant classroom favorite. Over the next several months, I think Spook taught more biology than I did. With his feather-covered eyelids, big alert eyes, his swivel neck, his uncompromising personality, he was beautiful. A blob of fresh liver served on a student's moving finger met his daily need of "living" food. How gently he would reach out with his curved beak, select the liver, and then gulp it down. His favorite classroom perch became the head of a twentyinch stuffed Great-Horned Owl-what a double-decker owl that was!
Yes, he did heal and fly again.
We were honored to have had his company.
Keep your peepers open wide.
It's surprising what you will take inside.
As my mom would say: "Life is so full of a number of things, I think we should all be as happy as kings."
Guest columnist John Cooke taught high school biology for 30 years and is pleased to share his insights with our readers.