Visitor Counter

hitwebcounter web counter
Visitors Since Blog Created in March 2010

Click Below to:

Add Blog to Favorites

Grizzly bears, black bears, wolves, coyotes, cougars/ mountain lions,bobcats, wolverines, lynx, foxes, fishers and martens are the suite of carnivores that originally inhabited North America after the Pleistocene extinctions. This site invites research, commentary, point/counterpoint on that suite of native animals (predator and prey) that inhabited The Americas circa 1500-at the initial point of European exploration and subsequent colonization. Landscape ecology, journal accounts of explorers and frontiersmen, genetic evaluations of museum animals, peer reviewed 20th and 21st century research on various aspects of our "Wild America" as well as subjective commentary from expert and layman alike. All of the above being revealed and discussed with the underlying goal of one day seeing our Continent rewilded.....Where big enough swaths of open space exist with connective corridors to other large forest, meadow, mountain, valley, prairie, desert and chaparral wildlands.....Thereby enabling all of our historic fauna, including man, to live in a sustainable and healthy environment. - Blogger Rick

Subscribe via email to get updates

Enter your email address:

Receive New Posting Alerts

(A Maximum of One Alert Per Day)

Monday, September 11, 2017

Are you a person who feels the impact of both the place that you reside in and the season of the year?..............As an October baby, I know that I am a "PLACE AND SEASON PERSON" for sure, reacting to the smells, sounds, landscape, people and wildlife around me with primal intensity as one season passes to the next................As NORTHERN WOODLANDS MAGAZINE Editor Dave Mance states so knowingly- "Some months, like some people, have a very strong sense of who and what they are".........Read his column below and see if you agree with his description of you based on birthday and "place"

On September
Some months, like some people, have a very strong sense of who and what they are. May is spring. July and August are summer. October is fall. January, February are winter. If these months had a hair style it would be a crewcut. If they had a political philosophy it would be conservative. There’s a roadmap to life, and by jingles they’re going to follow it.
On the flip side are months like April and November, who feel constrained by labels and seek over and over again to redefine themselves. Might be 70 and sunny, or there might be a foot of snow. These months wouldn’t have one hair style or even one hair color.
Some months are demure middle children who can’t get out of their older sibling’s shadow. March is pre-April. June is pre-July. December is pre-January. Yes, they sometimes rebel but it’s usually muted and kind of cute. They don’t demand attention like their louder siblings.
Which leaves us with September. You might say 
that it’s a kind of pre-October, but where I live, anyway, its average daytime high (70 degrees) is much closer to August (78 degrees) than it is to October (59 degrees). It’s hard to call 70 degrees fall, and yet September is clearly not a summer month, that clarity based not so much on what you feel on your skin but by what you sense. There are more mice, and chipmunks, and squirrels than there used to be. Fewer birds. More traffic on the roads but fewer children in town during the day. Things are quieter.
The back, unmowed meadow is obscene: waves of goldenrods and ragweed and milkweed and vetches breaking into brambles and young sumac spears and squat dogwood sprawls, the edges full of vines that smother whatever they’re growing on; you don’t even want to walk into it – it looks like you’d never emerge again; plus the riotous smells, the pollen perfumes and pleasant herbal aromas cut with something dank and musty, in places hints of vinegar and other acidic tangs. And yet with this jungle as a backdrop you notice, in the mowed section of the lawn, that the texture of the grass is different. In the shady sections it’s not growing anymore. The shadows are longer. Mist pools in the valleys on the cool mornings now. If you’ve lived through an autumn in the Northeast before you’d recognize the purples in the Virginia creeper foliage, the first reds in the swamp maple foliage, and see them as a harbinger of what’s about to unfold. But even if you didn’t know this, you’d sense something was afoot.
I guess in human terms September is the intelligently quiet guy or gal in the corner. They don’t say a lot, but when they do speak you lean in because whatever they say will be worth hearing.

No comments: