A Northwoods Almanac for 10/23/26

 A Northwoods Almanac for 10/23 - 11/5/26   

 

Monarchs Have Reached Mexico!

            Three monarchs carrying BlūMorpho transmitters were detected in the state of Coahuila, Mexico, late on the afternoon of Monday, Oct. 5, between 1,400 and 1,640 miles from their release sites in Manitoba, Minnesota, and Ontario. All three were detected within 48 minutes of each other through Blū+, the tracking network that lets everyday phones, tablets and computers, along with Motus-compatible receiver stations, pick up a tagged monarch as it passes.

            These monarchs were fitted with solar-powered tags that weigh just 60 milligrams (about as much as a grain of rice), with a transmitter that operates at 2.4 GHz (Bluetooth frequency), allowing them to be detected passively by everyday smartphones as monarchs pass within range. Each time a monarch is detected by a phone, it gives additional data about that monarch’s migration path.

            This incredible technology was first employed in 2025, when after years of development, over 400 monarchs were tagged by more than 30 organizations, allowing researchers to pinpoint monarchs’ individual movements along their migration paths. 

            In 2026, 1,069 monarchs were fitted with BlūMorpho solar transmitters during the fall migration in Canada and the United States. In Nebraska, Monarch Joint Venture worked with Omaha’s Henry Doorly Zoo and Aquarium and the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission to bring radio-tracking technology to a statewide scale, deploying 95 radio transmitters across eastern, central, and western Nebraska.

            In Wisconsin, 73 transmitters were deployed by the following organizations: Southern Wisconsin Bird Alliance at Goose Pond Sanctuary (30), by Beaver Creek Reserve near Eau Claire (20), by Urban Ecology Center in Milwaukee (14), by Xerces Society in the Madison area (5), and by the University of Wisconsin–Madison Biocore program (4).

            You can follow all the current tagged monarchs as they fly thousands of miles across North America. Go to the Project Monarch web app, or download the app for iPhone or Android (https://projectmonarch.org/app). 

            Once you open the app, hundreds of monarchs will appear on your screen, but don’t get overwhelmed. You can filter the monarchs by tagging year, monarchs that have been active in the last day, week, or month, and by tagging organization, like the Monarch Joint Venture, or by selecting “Wisconsin” for those tagged here.

            It was not until 1975 or 1976 that monarch researchers located the monarchs’ wintering areas in the oyamel fir forests west of Mexico City. Beginning in the early 1990s, over 3 million monarchs were then tagged with sticker tags to try and determine their routes. Southern Wisconsin Bird Alliance and their partners tagged more than 11,000 monarchs with sticker tags. Over the years, however, only 60 of their tags were recovered on monarchs on their wintering grounds in Mexico. 

            Given the very low percentage of recoveries of the tags, the transmitter technology was deemed necessary if researchers were going to truly learn the routes taken by monarchs.

            Monarchs usually begin reaching the overwintering sites as October turns to November, so it won't be long before reports come in of the first monarchs arriving in the oyamel fir forests.

 

Transforming Golf Courses into Nature Preserves

            I love this: Worldwide, closed golf courses are being transformed into nature preserves. 

            A former golf course on England’s coast was recently transformed into a wetland nature reserve that’s already drawing rare birds. The National Trust bought the Lincolnshire course in 2020, planted over 35,000 shrubs, and dug out a new wetland the size of about 45 football fields. Now called National Trust Sandiland, even before the project was finished, avocets and oystercatchers began nesting and breeding there, little ringed plover chicks were spotted for a second straight year, and other endangered and/or rare species now rest, feed, and breed there. 

            In Australia, the Elsternwick Park golf course was rewilded and transformed into a comprehensive wetland system with the reintroduction of 100 indigenous plant species.

            In Colorado, the Common Ground Golf Course swapped in native wildflowers and recycled wastewater, resulting in 40 bird species recorded on its grounds in a single day. Importantly, it remains a golf course, so it’s an example of dual use.

            In Wisconsin, the Glacial Lakes Land Trust hold an easement on the 65-acre former Emerald Hills Golf Course, now established as the Van Der Brohe Arboretum in 2018. The existing conservation easement ensures the property will forever remain a place for nature, wildlife, and the community to coexist. This permanent protection helps preserve forests, wetlands, grasslands, and hardwood bogs within the East Twin River watershed and along the important Lake Michigan migratory flyway, providing vital habitat for more than 130 bird species and many native plants and animals. 

            An additional 45-acre easement was donated in February to bring the arboretum to 110 acres.

            Along Lake Michigan in the town of Belgium, the 116-acre Forest Beach Migratory Preserve was once a golf course slated for development. Today, the preserve is protected by the Restoring Lands Land Trust, and is in the process of being rewilded for migratory birds along the Lake Michigan coast. The preserve hosts a “patchwork quilt” of habitats that support birds, reptiles, amphibians, mammals, and other wildlife. A viewing platform offers views of Lake Michigan and a chance to spot birds moving north and south along the coast, and a mowed 2.71-mile trail system invites visitors to meander through the preserve.    

            With golf courses covering 2.24 million acres in the US alone, an area larger than Delaware, changes like these could make a big difference for wildlife. Wisconsin has 528 golf courses covering approximately 73,000 acres, depending on what source you read. 

            I have nothing against golf - my father loved to golf - but if any courses become economically unsustainable, it’s heartening to know there are many models existing today for how the courses can be rewilded.

 

Leaves Are Coming Down, So Mulch Them!

            It remains a mystery to me why so many people rake or blow leaves into piles, then bag and haul them away when you can so easily chop them into pieces with a lawnmower and mulch them into your lawn. We’ve done this for decades on our property, and while no one will accuse us of having a picture-perfect lavish lawn, the nutrients stay put and the grass grows just fine.

            The only caveat is that in some yards, you can have too many leaves to mulch, and you can end up with a thick mat of leaves that can suffocate the grass. So, just use common sense. Rake some off if the confetti layer seems too thick. Otherwise, let nature do what is has always done, which is decompose the leaves back into the soil. The leaves also help retain moisture in the soil, which given our current drought makes a ton of sense.

            Less work, less time, greater benefits for your property - simple.

 

Clubmosses Spreading Golden Spores

            Many clubmosses (Lycopodiums) throughout northern Wisconsin are currently shedding their dust-like spores via October winds. 

            Clubmosses like princess pine (Dendrolycopodium obscurum) superficially resemble a conifer seedling to a casual observer, but clubmosses seldom grow taller than 6 inches and they produce spores - not cones with seeds. Those who think clubmosses are tiny pine trees must wonder why they never grow up.

            In late summer and early fall, little club-shaped structures grow from the tips of the shoots. Each of these “clubs” packs thousands of spores, and if you just tap one of them when they're ripe, a yellow powder billows out, catches any wind present, and the spores float to their new homestead site in the woods. Some of the clubs arise on slender stalks that look like a candelabra setting for a romantic vole's dinner.

            Clubmosses are perennials, and also vegetatively reproduce by sending out “runners” along or just below the ground surface that root down at intervals. New shoots may pop up at the roots, or the stem just continues to elongate further, walking itself slowly through the woods while the tail end dies off.

            Deer don’t eat clubmosses, so they can end up playing a relatively important ecological role on the forest floor. Mats of clubmoss hold soil in place and prevent erosion, especially on slopes. They maintain soil moisture and reduce temperature fluctuations, creating a stable, sheltered microhabitat for fungi, microorganisms, invertebrates, and small animals. Thus, clubmosses can improve the soil and facilitate the growth of other plants.

            The clubmoss reproductive cycle takes 17 or so years for the spores to grow through their alternate life stage and into the next generation spore-bearing plant. So, please think twice before picking them.

            

American Beech Trees

            Last week, Mary and I were over in Petoskey, Michigan, and we hiked a trail where hundreds of American beech trees were dying. Hundreds more were already dead but still standing, while many more had fallen and were laying on the forest floor and decomposing. Beech Bark Disease (BBD), an invasive scale insect followed by a canker-causing fungus, appeared to be the cause. 

            BBD has scarred and reduced mature beech populations since the 1930s, leaving behind dense, low-value thickets of root sprouts. Millions of beech trees across Michigan - particularly in the eastern Upper Peninsula and parts of the Lower Peninsula - have been killed by BBD. At present, there is no large-scale treatment for beech bark disease.

            But the destruction could also have been from beech leaf disease (BLD), which is caused by an invasive foliar nematode (Litylenchus crenatae ssp. mccannii), first discovered in Ohio in 2012. The nematodes burrow into winter buds and feed on leaves, causing dark green or black striping/banding between the leaf veins, shriveling the leaves, and blocking photosynthesis. It has spread across 15 U.S. states and parts of Canada, and is nearly 100% fatal, killing saplings in 1 to 3 years and mature trees in 4 to 10 years.

            In Wisconsin, American beech trees are primarily confined to the eastern part of the state, representing a minor component of northern hardwood forests with an estimated 18 million trees across 4 million acres. Beech are found almost exclusively in eastern Wisconsin and counties bordering Lake Michigan and Green Bay extending up to 75 miles west. 

            BBD was first found in Door County in 2009, where it has caused extensive beech decline and mortality. As of 2025, it has also been confirmed in Menominee County, which is the furthest west that beech is found in Wisconsin. 

            The only good news is that as of 2026, no confirmed discoveries of BLD have been made in Wisconsin. However, when it does arrive, like BBD, there also is no large-scale treatment for beech leaf disease.

            It’s truly sad to see so many of these beautiful trees dying. The forest understory, however, is loaded with young beech trees, so if a “cure” can be found for the diseases, there are millions of young trees waiting in the shadows to prosper.

A large American beech still healthy

Celestial Events

            The full moon - the Falling Leaves or Hunter’s moon - occurs on 10/25. 

            On 11/2, look before dawn for Jupiter just north of the waning crescent moon, while Mars will be just below the moon.

 

Thought for the Week

            “I sometimes think that the other months were constituted mainly as a fitting interlude between Octobers . . .” - Aldo Leopold, “Red Lanterns,” A Sand County Almanac

 

Please share your outdoor sightings and thoughts: e-mail me at johnbates2828@gmail.com, call 715-892-9697, snail-mail at 4245N State Highway 47, Mercer, WI, or see my blog at www.manitowishriver.blogspot.com

 

A Northwoods Almanac for 10/9 - 22/26

 A Northwoods Almanac for 10/9 - 22/26  

 

Bird Migration - Thousands of Robins 

            Every late September, a large flock of robins descends upon our property and gobbles down every berry on every tree and shrub we have (except for highbush cranberries, which they disdain for some reason). We’ve planted an array of fruits trees and shrubs (crabapples, mountain ashes, winterberries, elderberries, juneberries, chokecherries, nannyberries, and three species of dogwoods) to provide food for wintering birds, but the robins are like marauders who take what they want, and when there’s nothing left, leave town. 

            It’s frustrating, but who am I to tell the robins that don’t need the fruits as much as the wintering birds to come? 

            And prior to the robins appearing, a flock of cedar waxwings came through, as they do every mid -September preceding the robins, and took their fill.

            I’ve planted another eight mountain ash trees in hopes of having so many berries that the robins and waxwings eventually leave too full to eat the entire crop.      

            Meanwhile over Hawk Ridge in Duluth on 9/28, 11,104 American robins crossed, as well as 6,537 yellow-rumped warblers.

 

Blue Jays Migrating

            And then there are the blue jays. The counters tallied 65,000+ flapping over the ridge in August and September, with a daily high of 13,427. 

            Where are the blue jays going, and how far do they go? Well, surprisingly, it’s poorly understood. The distance traveled by the migrants varies, and, in many areas, most of the jays appear to be resident year-round. One researcher concluded that the proportion that migrates is probably not more than 20% of the population even in northern parts of the range, which is the Northwoods of Wisconsin and a little ways into Canada.

 

Big Bluestem (Andropogon gerardii)

            Mary, Callie, and I hiked in an area of the Powell Marsh which was planted years ago with prairie plants. Big bluestem has really taken over, and it’s gorgeous! Big bluestem turns a golden yellow in late September, and when the flat light of a sunset hits it just right, it lights up in a blaze.

in the big bluestem

            If you’re not familiar with big bluestem, it’s a very tall native perennial prairie grass that reaches up to ten feet. Many of the stems at Powell were around seven feet - well over my head. 

            Big Bluestem is the star component of the “Big Four” native grass species that characterize the tallgrass prairies of central North America (the other three are Indiangrass, switchgrass, and little bluestem.) It used to be abundant in native prairies, but cattle love it so much that some ranchers refer to it as “ice cream for cows.” It did best on lands where the seasonal grazing of migratory bison moved the animals around enough that it didn’t get overgrazed. 

            The main roots go 6 to 10 feet deep, and the plants send out strong, tough rhizomes, so it forms a very strong sod. It blooms in the summer and seeds into the fall with the inflorescence somewhat resembling a wild turkey's foot. 

            Big bluestem offers habitat for a host of insects, including many butterflies, all of which adds up to good habitat for birds, too.

 

Milkweed Seeds

            Milkweed pods are breaking open around this time, sending hundreds of seeds out, each arranged on a silky filament so if the wind comes up, they can carry a long ways. 

            If you want to plant some seeds, this is the time. Most species of milkweed require their seeds to endure a period of cool weather, followed by the warm weather of spring before they will germinate (a process known as cold stratification). For this reason, milkweed seed is best sown in fall, and then all you can do is wait until spring for the magic to happen.

 

Popping Jewelweed Pods and Using the Stem Juice for Skin Rashes

            Jewelweed seeds grow in an elongated capsule, which when ripe, bursts open at the slightest touch, delighting the child in all of us. The seed pods have five valves which coil back rapidly to eject the seeds in a process called explosive dehiscence, a fancy term for the splitting or bursting open of a closed structure. This reaction is where the name “touch-me-not” comes from; in mature seed pods, the seeds pop out easily, triggered by a light touch.

            The juice of the leaves and stems is a traditional Native American remedy for skin rashes from poison ivy, a use supported by a peer-reviewed study showing that its effectiveness is likely due to the plant containing saponins (see the Journal of Ethnopharmacology, August 30, 2012, “The effectiveness of jewelweed, Impatiens capensis, the related cultivar I. balsamina and the component, lawsone in preventing post poison ivy exposure contact dermatitis”). 

            In the study, poison ivy was brushed onto forearms of volunteers in six locations (who would volunteer for this?) and exposed areas were treated with jewelweed extracts, fresh plant mashes, soaps made of plant extracts, water, even Dawn dish soap. Rash development was scored on a scale of 0–14, and jewelweed was found to be effective in reducing poison ivy dermatitis.

            On the other hand, these studies also found that some individuals have a sensitivity to jewelweed which can cause a more severe rash.

            The last time I had poison ivy, and/or touched stinging nettle, I applied jewelweed and while it had some effect, it was nothing dramatic. 

            But everyone’s different. Give it a try and see if it works for you.

 

Acorns!

            Like last year, hiking along any trail this fall that’s lined by red oaks is like walking on a bunch of marbles - there are thousands of acorns littering the trails.

            These heavy “mast” years typically occur every four years, but the trees apparently didn’t get the memo.

            The deer, bears, squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons, turkeys, blue jays, grouse, wood ducks, woodpeckers, you name it, don’t mind at all.

Severe Drought Impacting Rivers and Lakes

            The Manitowish River has been little more than a creek this summer due to the extreme drought in our area, but now it’s in flood as the Manitowish Waters chain of ten lakes is drawn down three feet six inches and emptied into the Manitowish. Comprising some 4,200 acres of surface water, that’s a lot of water from the chain of lakes to dump into a small river over the course of a few weeks. Thus the flooding.

            This happens every fall to protect people’s piers. From an ecological standpoint, this is the exact opposite of when natural flooding occurs, which is in the spring as the snow melts and the ice goes off the lakes. 

            This year, however, the release may be more positive than negative given the extreme dearth of water in the main channel and the wetlands. 

            But given the super El Niño forecast to take place, it may bode poorly for next spring when the lakes have to be refilled again. A warmer winter means less ice cover for a shorter duration, as well as less snow, all of which adds up to greater early spring evaporation and less available snowmelt to flow into the rivers and streams to fill the lakes.

            Now, no one knows what will actually happen this winter or spring - forecasts obviously aren’t absolutes -  but I worry that this will be the way the spring goes.

            I mention this as a warning to folks that given the drawdown, the likelihood of marginal snowmelt, and the continuation of our drought, there may not be enough water to refill the chain and, equally importantly, still maintain minimum water levels downstream.

            This inability to fill the chain has happened several times over the last few decades, and the blame has been mistakenly assigned to the DNR and even the Tribes. Both have nothing to do with it. This is news to most folks, but the DNR does not really manage the Rest Lake dam. That authority was taken from the DNR in 2015 when the state’s budget-writing committee took control of the dam’s operating rules from the DNR and gave it to the legislature. That effectively ensured no major changes would be made to its management. Sen. Tom Tiffany inserted the item into a last-minute budget provision.

            A MOU (Memorandum of Understanding, which is not legally binding) between the DNR and Xcel Energy, the dam’s owner, now governs its flow. MOUs are nearly nonexistent elsewhere in Wisconsin dam operations. The problem with the MOU is that it allows Xcel to only release 20 cubic feet per second (it used to be 50 cfs) over the dam in drought conditions while maintaining as close as possible full pools in the lakes. 

            The larger issue is that if the drawdown is inflexible - if it always has to be three and a half feet no matter the year - it creates for the chain, and the river, a constraint that can’t be overcome in a severe drought, and now in a super El Niño. 

            All to protect docks.

            We’ll see how it goes and hope for spring rains.

 

Celestial Events

            The new moon occurs on 10/10.

            After dusk on 10/22, look for Venus three degrees below the waxing sliver moon.

            The Orionid meteor shower will peak overnight from October 21 to 22 and shoot up to 20 meteors per hour under dark skies. The event is known for its bright, fast meteors, which can create vivid trains as they collide with Earth’s atmosphere. 

            The show appears to originate from the Orion constellation. While this year’s Orionids peak coincides with a luminous waxing gibbous moon, the orb will set a few hours before dawn, the perfect time for spotting the shower at its height.

 

 “And Now it’s October”

the golden hour of the clock of the year. Everything that can run

to fruit has already done so: round apples, oval plums, bottom-heavy

pears, black walnuts and hickory nuts annealed in their shells,

the woodchuck with his overcoat of fat. Flowers that were once bright

as a box of crayons are now seed heads and thistle down. All the feathery

grasses shine in the slanted light. It’s time to bring in the lawn chairs

and wind chimes, time to draw the drapes against the wind, time to hunker

down. Summer’s fruits are preserved in syrup, but nothing can stopper time.

No way to seal it in wax or amber; it slides though our hands like a rope

of silk. At night, the moon’s restless searchlight sweeps across the sky.

            - Barbara Crooker from Small Rain

 

 

 

A Northwoods Almanac for 9/25 - 10/8/2026

 A Northwoods Almanac for 9/25 - 10/8/2026 

 

The Magic of Migration and Navigation 

            Over five billion birds, comprising some 500 North American species, migrate annually across the Northern Hemisphere. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology estimates an average of 4 billion birds pass from Canada across the northern border of the U.S. in autumn, with 2.6 billion birds returning to Canada in the spring.

            Across our southern U.S. border, an average of 4.7 billion birds leave the U.S. for Mexico and points south each fall, with 3.5 billion birds coming back across the border in the spring.

            In Wisconsin, 133 of our 240 nesting species migrate to Central and/or South America. Many of these neotropical migrants started their journeys in August with many still currently on the wing.

            But why migrate at all? After all, it’s incredibly dangerous and arduous. Most songbirds migrate at night, landing in the morning to feed and refuel for the next evening’s flight. The dangers are endless, including weather extremes, food not being available in the quantity and quality needed, predators, power lines, the lights on city buildings, windows, cats, et al. 

            And there are topographical barriers to migration like Lake Superior, mountain ranges, deserts, Gulf of Mexico, etc. 

            The general consensus is that 80% of the juvenile neotropical birds migrating this autumn won’t make it back this spring. 

            Still, it’s the best option in a limited menu of options, which comes down to a cost-benefit equation. Birds have learned to exploit resources that are seasonally abundant, and to avoid places during seasons when resources are scarce, or conditions are harsh or over-crowded.

            In temperate/Arctic regions, food is abundant during the short summer, so billions of birds migrate north to take advantage of our troves of insects. More food means increased reproductive success, which outweighs the risks of migration.

            In autumn, of course, the reverse occurs. Our insect population crashes with the first frost, and if you are an insect-eating bird, you need to stay ahead of the frosts.

            The mystery remains, however, of how these birds so precisely navigate. Birds utilize the sun, the moon, the stars, landscape cues, and even olfactory cues to guide them, all of which can act in consort to orient them in the right direction. 

            But the true precision tool they utilize appears to be their ability to “see” magnetic fields. There are three components of our planet’s magnetic field that play a role in helping birds navigate during their migrations: 

            1- Intensity, which is the magnetic field’s strength.

            2- Declination, or the angle between the Earth’s magnetic North (which varies with the magnetic field, and is what compass needles point to) and true North (a fixed point).

            3. Inclination, which is the angle between the Earth’s magnetic field and its surface.

            However, the Earth’s magnetic field shifts slightly every year. If the magnetic field guides the birds, then they should end up in a slightly different location every migration season,  and yet, they return to the same places with baffling precision.

            Well, here is where it gets truly amazing. Experimental evidence suggests a bird’s compass “relies on subtle, fundamentally quantum effects in short-lived molecular fragments, known as radical pairs, formed photochemically in its eyes.” 

            Got that?

            Me neither. 

            In somewhat simpler terms, in birds’ eyes, a light-dependent reaction yields a chemical that’s proportional to the environment’s active magnetic fields. As the birds move their heads through the field, the chemical reaction fluctuates. This chemical reaction in the eyes sends a signal to the brain to interpret, providing precise directions. 

            Researchers have also discovered a small spot on the beak of pigeons and some other birds that contains magnetite. Magnetite is a magnetized rock, which may act as a tiny GPS unit by giving birds information about their position relative to Earth’s poles. Magnetite detects variations in magnetic field intensity, helping birds map roughly how far north or south they have traveled and signaling an invisible "stop" sign when they reach their destination. 

It’s one thing, of course, to know exactly what direction to go, but another thing to know exactly when to stop.                                                                                                               

            See this article for more detail: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/how-migrating-birds-use-quantum-effects-to-navigate/)

            Joe Wynn, one of the principal researchers who has studied how bird’s eyes can interpret magnetic fields (Science, Jan. 2022), wrote that this ability “is about as close to magic as is possible.” 

            I thinks so, too. Tom Clancy famously wrote, “The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense.”

            That pretty well sums up the whole story of migration - it almost exceeds what we believe is possible from “reality.”

 

Sightings - Duluth’s Hawk Ridge Count

            19,768 broad-winged hawks on 9/17 (record is over 101,000!)

            1,282 sharp-shinned hawks on 9/16

            13,427 blue jays on 9/16

            20,738 green darner dragonflies on 9/17

 

First Frost

            A siren went off all around the Northwoods on the morning of 9/14 when we experienced our first hard frost. What we humans may interpret as an inconvenience - we had to cover the garden, poor us - animals and plants interpret as an impending catastrophe if they don’t react and adapt. Wrote Diane Kappel-Smith, “[The coming] winter is a predictable kind of Armageddon, a calamity calmly weathered, an end of a world that they [wildlife] understand and are preparing for.”

            Indeed. 

            I’ve written about this before, but it bears repeating. The options for wildlife are MAD - Migrate, Adapt, or Die. 

            So, migration is in full tilt, and adaptations are now triggered and beginning to be implemented, some in haste, some more calmly.

            Most of the plant world heard the siren, too, and is shutting down. The first frost is a cliff edge for nearly all plant species, a time when cells can freeze and burst if they haven’t adapted. The photosynthetic engine stops producing chlorophyll and begins to salvage nutrients, withdrawing nitrogen and phosphorus from the leaves and pumping them into the branches and roots. 

            Hormonal changes cause cells at the base of leaf stems to cut off the flow of water and nutrients to the leaves, forming what’s called the abscission layer. Once the tourniquet is completed, the dead leaves drop off.

            And as the chlorophyll fades, pigments that have been hidden in the leaves like carotenoids (yellow/orange) and anthocyanins (red) are revealed, allowing the curtain to come up and reveal the fall riot of colors. 

 

Is There Any Value to Autumn Colors Beyond Beauty?

            There may be more to trees and shrubs revealing colors than simply a chemical quirk. Research suggests a number of plausible roles that having colorful leaves may play for a species.

Two theories have been advanced. One suggests bright autumn leaves carry a message to insects via their vivid colors to leave them alone. The intensity of the pigments can act as a warning signal to insects that a plant is really healthy and able to fend off any use by an insect for over-wintering. Many insect species choose trees in the fall to lay their eggs, and when they hatch in the spring, they often feed on the tree with potentially killing effects. But healthy trees typically ward off insect attack better than unhealthy ones, so just as male birds intimate their reproductive vigor to females and maintain their territories through the display of their brilliant breeding plumage, trees might be advertising to insects the same sort of story. I’m bright, I’m strong, I’m potentially lethal – go away.

photo by Jeff Richter

The second hypothesis, the “sunscreen theory,” argues that by the time the leaves change in a Wisconsin autumn, the foliage-feeding insects are already gone, so bright leaves have no insects to warn away. The theory suggests that fall colors, particularly the reds of the anthocyanins, act as a sunscreen to protect the leaves from harmful rays of sunlight in the reduction and eventual absence of chlorophyll. 

But, some trees like birches produce no anthocyanins, instead only making yellow carotenoids. Carotenoids help chlorophyll absorb sunlight in the summer, but they don’t shield the leaves in the fall, so birches must have another process by which they protect their leaves.

The truth is that there is no truth that fits all species. And that’s fine by me. I’m just grateful for the beauty of fall, whatever the ecological value may be.

 

Celestial Events

            The full moon - the Harvest/Acorn/Leaves Changing Color Moon - occurs on 9/26.

            For planet watching in October, look after dusk for Venus very low in the WSW (lost by mid-month), and Saturn rising in the E.

            Before dawn, look for Mars high in the SE and Jupiter high in the E. 

            We’re down to 11 hours and 29 minutes of sunlight as of 10/4.

            Look on 10/5 for Mars below the waning crescent moon. On 10/6, Jupiter will trade places with Mars and be just below the waning crescent moon. 

 

Thought for the Week

            “Make a home. Help to make a community.

Be loyal to what you have made.

Put the interest of the community first.

Love your neighbors - not the neighbors you pick out, but the ones you have.

Love this miraculous world that we did not make, that is a gift to us.

As far as you are able make your lives dependent upon your local place, neighborhood, and household - which thrive by care and generosity - and independent of the industrial economy, which thrives by damage.

Find work, if you can, that does no damage.

Enjoy your work. Work well.”

-Wendell Berry, from an essay published in 1989, “The Futility of Global Thinking”

 

 

A Northwoods Almanac for 9/11/26

 A Northwoods Almanac for 9/11-24/26 

 

Sightings: Nighthawks, Ladies Tresses, Lapland Longspurs, Fen Grass-of-Parnassus

            Several people reported seeing common nighthawks migrating through our area in the last week of August. The largest count for nighthawks at Duluth’s Hawk Ridge occurred much earlier in the month on 8/16  and was “only” 1,400. For Hawk Ridge, this is a relatively low number - last year on August 22, 17,870 were counted funneling over the ridge and along the shore of Lake Superior. 

            Keep a watch out still - a few latecomers may yet be passing through on their way to South America and as far south as Argentina. Nighthawks migrate a great distance between their breeding range and winter range, making their journey one of the longest migrations of any North American bird. 

On a hike in Powell Marsh on 9/2, Mary and I spotted several Lapland longspurs foraging along the dikes and giving us close views. Lapland longspurs breed in tundra habitats across the arctic, their name referring to the Lapland region of Scandinavia. We rarely see these birds in migration, so this was a treat.

We also found a small patch of nodding ladies tresses orchids (Spiranthes cernua) along one of the dikes in a spot we now watch for every year. I usually think of orchids as living in stable, older habitats, but this species is an early successional one, a lover of disturbed habitats and often persisting in mowed habitats. And that is exactly where we’re finding these - along a mowed dike.

nodding ladies tresses, photo by John Bates

            Mary and I traveled over to Petoskey, Michigan, in the last week of August to set up her “Women and Water” exhibit, and afterwards we walked in the Grass River Natural Area, a 1,502 acre nature preserve surrounding the Grass river. We walked 1.5 miles on wooden boardwalks traversing the northern fen and cedar wetlands - spectacular! 

            All that wetland harbors an immense array of wildflowers and birds, and we were thrilled to find numerous clusters of fen grass-of-parnassus (Parnassia glauca), a threatened species in Michigan. It’s not a grass, though its leaves resemble a grass. The gorgeous five-petaled white flowers just popped amongst the greenery of the fen.

            

fen grass of parnassus, photo by John Bates

Hartwick Pines - Old-growth White Pines

            We were also able to visit Harwick Pines State Park, which contains one of the most-visited old-growth forests in the nation. A paved 1.25 mile trail leads through a 49-acre remnant of Michigan's original forest dominated by remnant white pines. 

            In 1927, Karen Michelson Hartwick purchased over 8,000 acres of land here, which included 86 acres of old growth white pine. A short while later she donated the land to the State of Michigan as a memorial park to be named for her husband who died in World War I. She also specified the forest should never be logged.

            Today Hartwick Pines covers 9,672 acres and is one of the largest state parks in the Northern Lower Peninsula. A windstorm in 1940 reduced the old-growth pines area from 86 acres to 49 acres.  

            Of course, I’d forgotten to bring my diameter tape, but many of the pines were at least three feet in diameter and provided a fleeting sense of what the original pineries likely looked like prior to the cutover.

 

Common Green Darners

            When we think of fall migration, most of us think only of birds, but there are a number of species of insects that engage in remarkable movements, monarch butterflies, of course, being the most famous. However, several species of dragonflies fly long distances as well, and in great numbers. 

            The champion migrator among the dragonflies is the common green darner. In August, counters at Hawk Ridge tallied 4,277 passing over the ridge and heading south. 

            Their migration is somewhat similar to that of the monarchs in that it spans three generations every year. The first generation of insects emerges in the southern United States, Mexico and the Caribbean from about February to May, and then as early as March, they migrate north 500 to 800 miles to lay eggs in northern ponds before dying. 

            The new second generation that emerges from the ponds lives in our area all summer, and then migrates south from about July until late October, though they have never seen where they’re heading. 

            A third generation then emerges down south around November, and lives entirely in the south during winter. It’s their offspring that start the cycle again by swarming northward as temperatures warm in the spring. With a wingspan as wide as a hand, they devote their whole lives to flying hundreds of kilometers to repeat a journey their great-grandparents made.

            How do scientists know where the green darners go? Remarkably, they can determine their hatch location by examining the chemistry locked in their wings. Stable hydrogen isotopes are ideal to infer where dragonflies were hatched because they reflect the latitude at which body tissues were grown. By vaporizing a segment of wing in a mass spectrometer researchers can find the chemical “signature” needed to determine latitude of the natal pond where a given dragonfly emerged. 

            A research team in Vermont spent two years using 21 years of citizen science data, more than 800 dragonfly wing specimens going back 140 years, and specimens caught in the wild to ultimately discern the three-generation migration system.

            Amazing.

 

White-faced Meadowhawks 

            And then there’s white-faced meadowhawks, a non-migratory species, but one that can be seen in huge numbers in the early fall. On August 27, counters at Duluth’s Hawk Ridge, tallied 35,485 white-faced meadowhawks passing over the ridge! 

            Wow! 

            Of this moment, they wrote, “Late morning, an absurd number of Meadowhawks lifted off, boiling into a wall of dragons.”

            “A wall of dragons” - I love that. 

            The next day, Aug. 28, they counted 1,754, and then another estimated 7,000 passed over the ridge on 9/2!

            White-faced meadowhawk males are identifiable by a distinctive pure white face and red bodies, though females are usually yellowish or brown. 

white-faced meadow hawk

            As I mentioned, they are not long-distance migrators! Rather, they move short distances away from water into fields, meadows, or forest edges to feed and find mates. Why were so many flying over Hawk Ridge and where were they were going? I don’t think anyone knows! 

 

Monarch Migration

            On August 23 as Mary and I were traveling east across the U.P. to get to Petoskey, we stopped in Manistique to take a walk along Lake Michigan. As we walked, we kept noticing monarch butterflies fluttering past us heading west along the shore, and it dawned on us that we were witnessing the early migration of monarchs heading south.

            The monarch migration through the U.P. works like this. Every autumn during the last two weeks of August and the first two weeks of September, the monarchs gather at the Garden Peninsula or Stonington Point just east of Escanaba and Gladstone where they wait until the winds are right for the migration flight south across Lake Michigan to the Door Peninsula and Green Bay. They cross using the chain of islands running north off of Door County as stepping stones.

            Once in Wisconsin, the monarchs travel another 2,000 miles or so to central Mexico where they  aggregate in oyamel fir trees on south-southwest facing mountain slopes. These locations provide cool temperatures, water, and adequate shelter to protect them from predators and allow them to conserve enough energy to survive winter.

            Unlike summer generations that live for two to six weeks as adults, adults in the migratory generation can live for up to nine months. In March, this generation begins the journey north into Texas and southern states, laying eggs and nectaring as they migrate and breed. The first generation offspring from the overwintering population continue the journey from the southern U.S. to recolonize the eastern breeding grounds, migrating north through the central latitudes in approximately late April through May. Second and third generations populate the breeding grounds throughout the summer. It is generally the fourth generation that migrate in the fall to the wintering sites in central Mexico about 3000 meters (almost 2 miles) above sea level.

            How do millions of monarchs start their southbound journey from all over eastern and central North America and end up in a very small area in the mountains of central Mexico? They don’t learn the route from their parents since only every fourth generation of North American monarch migrates. 

            Since monarchs migrate during the day, it’s proposed that they use a sun compass. Monarchs may use the angle of the sun along the horizon in combination with an internal body clock (like a circadian rhythm) in their antennae to maintain a southwesterly flight path.

            However, scientists have also suggested that monarchs use a magnetic compass to orient, possibly in addition to a sun compass as a “back-up” orientation guide on cloudy days. 

            Research showed that migratory monarchs indeed possess a magnetic compass using short wave UV-light that aids in orienting them south towards their overwintering grounds. 

            Along the way, the monarchs have to eat to provide the fuel for this arduous flight, and the nectar of jewelweed (Impatiens capensis) appears to be an important flower fulfilling that purpose. Which brings us to:

 

Jewelweed or Spotted Touch-Me-Not 

            Jewelweed currently bedecks many a wetland edge from here in the Northwoods all the way to the Gulf Coast. Its beautiful bright orange flowers have one of the sepals (outer parts of the flower) modified into a large, pouch-like structure with a long spur that is loaded with nectar. During late summer, these nectar spurs attract numerous hummingbirds, sphinx moths, and bumblebees, all of whom cross-pollinate the flowers.

            But as fall comes on, jewelweed becomes essential to monarch butterflies. The monarch's long, flexible proboscis allows it to easily reach deep into the blossom to extract the nectar, and jewelweed nectar is exceptionally rich, boasting a sugar concentration of up to 43%. This is significantly higher than the nectar of many other late-summer wild flowers. The caloric density of jewelweed allows migrating monarchs to rapidly accumulate lipid (fat) reserves, which they store in their abdomens to fuel their long-distance flight all along the way to the Gulf.

            

Celestial Events - Autumn Equinox

            The big celestial news in this time period is, of course, that autumn equinox occurs on 9/22. The sun now crosses the celestial equator (an imaginary line in space above Earth's equator) heading south. Official autumn has commenced, and longer nights than days become the rule.

            

Thought for the Week

            “Essentially, autumn is the quiet completion of spring and summer. Spring was all eagerness and beginnings, summer was growth and flowering. Autumn is the achievement summarized, the harvested grain, the grape in the wine press . . . the bright leaf in the woodland . . . the froth of asters at the roadside . . . See it, smell it, taste it, and forget the time of year or day.” - Hal Borland, Twelve Moons of the Year