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What the Macoun Field Club did in 2022-23

Sept. 10, 2022: First full meeting in more than 2 years

We made a tentative start to a normal pattern of indoor and outdoor activities, but returned to an even older pattern by having two successive hour-long meetings, divided by age. We wore masks to comply with the Covid-19 restrictions that apply to the Fletcher Wildlife Garden’s “Resource Centre,” coupled with as much ventilation as we could get, with all the windows open. Ventilation is the equivalent of masking, so we were doubly protected.

New members were introduced to the concept of “Observations,” when any natural thing we have seen recently can be reported. Birds are a frequent subject, and to assist with a common understanding of what we’re talking about, we hand out copies of a field guide for use during the meeting. Whoever finds the species first calls out something like, “It’s on page 93, at the top.”

Rob brought in a large, ball-like object, visible on the table at right. “Is it a skull?” someone asked. “Or a mushroom?” It was a Giant Puffball, and Rob said he was going to take it back home and eat it.

We finished up each group’s meeting by going outside and seeing what could be found in the Fletcher Wildlife Garden all around the building. There were frogs and toads, birds at the feeder and birds in the trees, and squirrels.

 

Sept. 17, 2022: Return to “Pakenham”

It is good to get out in the Lanark County wilds before the various hunting seasons get under way (next week is the start of duck-hunting; the only real danger is in the first two weeks of November, when deer are hunted with high-powered rifles). And we had a lovely early autumn day to ourselves.

Late-season wildflowers were blooming along the trailside: Large-leafed and other Asters and goldenrods were prominent. Only one single blossom of Cardinal Flower was noted, instead of late-summer spikes and masses by the stream-side. Mushrooms were the class of organism that drew attention the most. We found fragrant, orange Chanterelles several times, pink-topped Russulas, yellow boletes, and Scarlet Waxy Caps.

Not one salamander could be found, even under our most reliable logs. Just a few tiny millipedes and inconspicuous spiders. Birds were few: Rob heard a Blue-headed Vireo singing, and two Chickadees announced themselves by calling their own name. We found a Chipmunk tail, freshly severed. Since this was the middle of the day, it had probably been bitten off by an aggressive fellow Chipmunk, rather than an owl; we saw one furious chase.

We ate lunch on the sloping rocks beside the Indian Creek waterfall, with the kids searching out crayfish in stranded pools, and crossing to the other side on a big pine that had blown down last May.

One member who had registered for the field trip couldn’t come — Covid-19 developed between Thursday and Friday.

Sept. 24, 2022: How to find your way in the woods

Have you ever been a little bit lost? Leader Rob Lee asked Macouners how you avoid this embarrassment, and even little kids knew to pay attention to landmarks such as an unusual mushroom or tree. Others said to take note of where the sun is, or, at night, the North Star. Rob added a helpful tip: when you leave a trail even for a minute, cast a glance behind you to see what it’ll look like when you try to find it again. (This is a good idea even on a regular trail, especially when one path merges with the one you’re following, because it’ll look like a fork when you come back.)

And if you do get lost? The authorities say you should stay where you are, because then you won’t wander for hours and be so hard to find. But Rob recounted his own method, which he had to use himself one drizzly day in the woods.

Generally, one is not very far from the trail or campsite or lakeshore you left. Knowing that people tend to walk in circles, he worked out how to walk in a straight line: mark an obvious tree by leaning sticks up against it all around and walk away. While it is still easy to see, lean sticks up against another tree on just one side. Before the first tree disappears, line the two trees up and mark a third. Keep marking trees in the same pattern as you go along, and you’ll be going in a straight line.

If you have a compass, you’ll have been going in a sensible direction and come out somewhere; if not, after a while you’ll turn around and go back to the first tree, and extend the straight line in the other direction. If that fails, you go back and mark out a new line at right angles to what you’ve already done, and then in the other direction.

At the very least, you will be confident that you haven’t have moved farther into the forest than you were when you realized you were lost. And at best, your first guess will bring you to something you know — because you stayed on a straight line. You will have found your own way out of the woods.

 

 

Oct. 1, 2022: How we found our way in the woods

Putting what we discussed last week to use, we started on the old sugar-bush trails across the road from Rob’s house. It had been a late start, so we had lunch almost right away, seated on the ground or on handy logs. Rob’s meal was frequently interrupted by a stream of visitors bringing beetles and caterpillars and millipedes for him to inspect — a Spring Peeper leapt from the hand that held it and narrowly missed his cup of apple cider.

After eating we continued uphill — and kept the sun more or less behind us. We left the trails, which were leaf-covered and pretty hard to see anyway, and proceeded through a grove dominated by Red Pines, then dropped down a steep slope into the dry basin of a vernal pond. The vegetation covering its bottom smelled strongly of mint. We found snail shells and tiny pea clams.

Climbing out of the green-bottomed basin, we now walked toward the westering sun. Everywhere we were looking under rotting logs and mossy rocks, but it was a long time before we found a salamander. Within minutes we found a second one, both of them Blue-spotted.

Partway down another slope, we turned left, now keeping the late-afternoon sun to our right as we twisted and turned through the thicker parts of the forest. We came out on trails we had not seen in the morning, and they took us to a road — the road that Rob lives along.

And then Rob asked, which way should we turn, to get back to our cars, parked in his laneway?

October 15, 2022: Salamanders, beginning to end

We had hardly started into the Study Area woods from the Bridlewood side when Macouners began finding salamanders under logs. There was a small Blue-spotted Salamander, and a big one with a pronounced curvature of the spine. Then, a salamander with yellow spots. Over 50 years we have found hundreds and hundreds of salamanders of different kinds, but only once before, in 2017, did we come across a Yellow-spotted Salamander. This was in a location too distant to be the same individual.

Other under-log finds were mainly small millipedes (family Julidae) and earthworms. Out on the open ground (thickly covered with fallen leaves) we found two Garter Snakes.

We made for our Study Tree Woods and ate lunch there, exploring both above ground and in the spaces exposed to view by uprooted trees that were flung aside by the windstorm of May 21st.

Quite abruptly the blue skies changed to grey, and not long after lunchtime it began to rain. On our long walk out, we found more salamanders — another Blue-spotted, and the day’s only Red Eft.

 

Oct. 22, 2022: Introduction to the “Study” in Study Area

Since the 1950s, the Macoun Club has had a series of nature-study areas, but the only one that has lasted is the one we went to last week. When the Club first began to explore there in 1970, the area was literally out in the country, with indefinite boundaries. Urban development now sandwiches it between Bells Corners and Bridlewood (Kanata).

Down through the decades, Macouners have dreamed up all kinds of study projects, done the fieldwork, and reported their findings in the Club’s publication, The Little Bear. (This publication was suspended during the Covid-19 pandemic, but plans for its resumption are afoot.)

Ten years ago, everything we have ever published was assembled in a single volume, “The 42-year Little Bear Book on the Macoun Club Study Area,” and Rob passed this weighty volume around the table for examination, and perhaps inspiration.

 

Oct. 29, 2022: Skulls and other bones

Five years ago naturalist Jim Montgomery donated his childhood collection of skulls and other bones. He began collecting in June, 1963.

During the closure of the Resource Centre, where we might have kept an eye on it, mice shredded the catalogue into nest material. But Rob had made a copy when we acquired the collection, and replaced it. Today we got all the bones out and cleaned everything up.

The skulls are beautifully prepared, and the numbers on them allowed us to link them up with their names. It was also a rare opportunity for kids to get a feel for animals ranging in size from shrews to bears. Difference in teeth became obvious, and differences in weight between mammals and birds were dramatic.

We mean to make use of this resource material in the meetings ahead.

 

November 5, 2022: Record warmth brings out the snakes and frogs

Our Study Area is a big place, and by entering from the eastern side, opposite our usual entrance (Forestview Crescent vs. Osprey Cres.) we were able to be out four hours without coming near anyplace we’ve been before this fall.

Right away we began rolling logs in hopes of finding salamanders again, but on this side of the Study Area none came to light. Instead, we kept finding darkly pigmented, immature earthworms in the genus Lumbricus, and slugs (the grey Arion sylvaticus and the orange-slimed A. subfuscus). This, too, was different from the western side. Under one log, we uncovered a large, black-and-white wasp (a Bald-face Hornet, Dolichovespula maculata), curled up in a over-wintering cell she had packed round with sawdust.

We approached “Pond V” but it was surrounded by a wide, wet belt of tall cattails, and we couldn’t even see it without retreating to higher ground. Along the way, we walked through brushy vegetation — and began to find Deer Ticks (Ixodes scapularis) walking over our clothing. Rather than just brush them off, Rob collected them in a vial, accumulating 17 specimens. (At home, he determined that 4 of the 17 were males.)  This was altogether too much like last year’s field trip, almost on the same date (Nov. 7, 2021) when we found 18 ticks, and not very far away, either.

In compensation, the warm weather (we registered a high of 25º C; even the official 23º was a record for this date) brought out Garter Snakes, and, in other places, frogs: Wood Frog and Spring Peepers on land, and Green Frogs in shallow waters.

 

November 12, 2022: How are chainsaws and velcro alike?

Rob took his chainsaw to the meeting today, and plunked it down on the table. How would he make this relevant to the young naturalists of the Macoun Club? He did say that chainsaws have enabled the rapid deforestation of large parts of the world. Before their invention in the 1940s, trees had to be cut down by men swinging axes or pulling crosscut saws back and forth, but the role of the machine was not. He also tossed his old, worn-out rain-jacket onto the table, and the question became, what did they have in common?

After 35 years of use, the only parts of the rain-jacket that still work are the velcro cuffs of the sleeves, and even our young  Macoun members knew that they had been inspired by something in nature (burdock). But the chainsaw? Mechanical saws had been invented by the 1940s, but with teeth copied from hand-saws, and they jammed with sawdust. It took a thoughtful logger to have a look at the teeth of Sawyer Beetle larvae, and they turned out to be C-shaped, not V-shaped. Applied to chainsaws, beetle-style teeth work.

Impressive as a chainsaw is, even when it isn’t running, what really grabbed the kids’ attention was something moving among the splash cups of Bird’s Nest Fungi that Rob had also brought in. What looked  like a minute twig was slowly waving about, reaching out, and then hauling its tail-end up to the front — an inchworm, or looper (a moth-caterpillar camouflaged, and behaviourally primed, to look like a dead twig). Not even the minute splash cups could match that.

 

November 19, 2022: The snow reveals all

We entered our Nature Study Area through a third access point (parking lot P6, rather than Osprey or Forestview Crescents) and explored the woods along the southern and western edges of the great cedar swamp that is the core of the “Stony Swamp” natural area. A number of big trees had blown over in the powerful windstorm last May, constraining our movements over the landscape, but offering insight into the subterranean world of soil and rock.

Just enough snow had fallen to thoroughly cover this fall’s still-springy leaf litter, and we got a lot of practice identifying unclear animal tracks. The feet of Deer and Coyotes are about the same size, and they walk with about the same space between footsteps, but, as Rob pointed out, Deer drag their toes through the snow and Coyotes don’t. Both animals curl up and sleep on the snow, but deer beds are round on one side and straight on the other, where their long legs are folded up. Macouners soon remembered how to distinguish Fisher and Porcupine tracks, too — and we were able to find one of the two Porcupines that had left tracks. It was in the very top of a very tall cedar tree.

Before lunch, we found a Winter Moth so quiet we wondered if it might be dead, but while we were eating the temperature rose just above freezing and another one of these moths flew by.

Coyotes, of course, prey on White-tailed Deer and Max found a fragment of a deer’s jaw, all chewed up by these predators, and recognizable to us by its teeth.

 

November 26, 2022: What do you want this city to be?

Ottawa educator Mike Leveillé brought an interesting proposal to the Macoun Club’s older group: how could we make Ottawa-Gatineau more the kind of place a nature-oriented populace would want to live in? A conservation initiative is being launched that aims to see nature in the region protected under an umbrella Biodiversity Reserve. There is enough undisturbed, biodiverse nature here, he said — the Mer Bleu Bog, Stony Swamp, and Gatineau Park — to make this a worthwhile endeavour. “We wish to build upon the best practices the world over,” he said, and “make cities healthier and more sustainable.”

One of his questions was: “How do we bring farming in to our urban spaces?” And one of our group answered: “Bring back chickens! ” (Chickens are currently banned from most urban areas.)

For our younger group, Rob brought in something few of them had seen before — a real heart. It had been given to him by a local hunter who had shot a White-tailed Deer. Maybe we’ll dissect it on some field trip to see what the inside looks like, but today we could only poke our fingers into the openings to the main chambers, the ventricles, which pump blood. It was surprising how thick the muscular walls were, compared with the illustrations one always sees.

December 10, 2022: Owl pellets: in one end . . . and out the same way

Rob introduced a hands-on workshop in which we opened up Barn Owl pellets (to see what they had been eating) by showing the group his notes from 1971, when he had dissected a fresh Barred Owl pellet he’d found where the predator had killed a Snowshoe Hare. Rob had carefully sketched, and measured in three dimensions, each bone fragment; only a few vertebrae were intact and identifiable. His notes recorded that the weight of the pellet (4/5 of an ounce, or 23 grams) was 3/4 fur and 1/4 bone.

Former member Morgan McAteer led the workshop, and explained that pellets are produced from the indigestible parts of the owl’s prey and coughed up before they get very far down the digestive tract. She had obtained about 20 Barn Owl pellets from a commercial source, each wrapped in tin foil, and handed out pairs of pointed sticks with which we tore apart the mouse-fur jackets and teased out tiny bones. Or was it mouse fur? Sometimes we found rat, vole, and Pocket Gopher bones instead, and once the skull, backbone, and articulated legs of a Starling. Morgan cautioned us to think about what we were finding, for an owl might have swallowed several small mammals in one meal; she handed out diagrams that helped us distinguish prey species as well as body parts.

The project was so popular that afterward, several members asked for extra pellets they could take home.

December 18, 2022: Snow-umbrellas and spiders

The day before the scheduled Saturday field trip, a 25-cm-thick blanket of heavy, wet snow fell in the Ottawa Valley; anticipating bad driving conditions and a big clean-up, the trip was postponed until Sunday. It settled over Rob’s forest, too, so much clinging to every twig that only half of it reached the ground at first and the sky was blotted out. By Sunday, a lot had been half-melted and shaken down, but plenty remained overhead for fun. We shook the snow down in “mini snowstorms” and carefully crawled into temporary snow caves.

We saw no tracks except our own, perhaps because the trees had shed most of their burden in clumps and lumps everywhere. But we saw no birds or mammals, either, in the forest. There were many saplings that had been bowed so low that their tips were anchored to the ground, and we went around freeing them. A delicate, long-legged spider took fright and spun out a silken escape thread, landing on Rob’s nose. He eased it down on another thread to a Leatherwood twig, where it would be safe. But his camera must have appeared huge and threatening, for the spider shrank into a tight little ball and stayed as still as could be.

 

Jan.14, 2023: The value of note-keeping

One of the most popular forms of note-keeping is a diary; one of the simplest is to number objects you have collected and keep a numbered list of them.

Rob began with the younger group (ages 8-11) and asked them to take all the rocks out of a heavy milk crate he had brought in. That was great fun, because you have no idea what will be next — dull stones with intriguing imprints in them; a dense and heavy piece of metallic ore; a transparent crystal. “What’s this? Is this a fossil? What’s this one?” And in the hour we had, we never got to the bottom of the crate.

The rocks were numbered, and we laid them out in sequential order; only then did Rob introduce the collection catalogue, painstakingly and erratically spelled names and notes made in a child’s hand — a child who is grown up to become Dr. William Godsoe, who lectures at Lincoln University in New Zealand. Now we could put names to specimens: Fossil No. 7 — “Crinoid, Odavician”, Ottawa; Mineral No. 2 — “Brass-yellow pyrite from small cliff at Bitabe, Que., June ’93; Rock No. 43 — Conglomerate from Livingston Cove, P.E.I, Aug. 2, ’94.

The rock collection was the starting point for the older group of members. Rob led from there to his bird notes (from when he was 12) to general nature journaling, and then linked specimens in the Macoun Club Lichen Collection to entries in the Study Area Nature Journal for 2005.

Jan. 21, 2023: Lichens live in the water, too

We had it all arranged to meet up with a group from the OFNC after lunch; they would be coming into our Nature Study Area to look at lichens. The sun shone on us while we ate lunch, sitting on logs out of sight of trail users. Then it clouded over.

We made for our special Study Tree Woods and began scouting for interesting lichen species that we could show off. Birds that had been thinking only of winter were suddenly proclaiming the approach of spring: a Chickadee was singing, a woodpecker drumming, and a White-breasted Nuthatch yammering with vigour. A big Hairy Woodpecker even took offense at a pair of Downies in what he considered his territory, and chivvied them from tree to tree.

When the 25 OFNC members, all adults, arrived, we brought them to a big Sugar Maple that was orangey from top to bottom with Sunburst Lichen, not the common one, but Xanthomendoza ulophyllodes. (It is differentiated from X. fallax by the pattern of the powdery lobe edges).

The highlight of the OFNC trip was to be the Flooded Jellyskin lichen (Leptogium rivulare) in the vernal floodplain adjacent to our Study Tree Woods, but we had already checked there and found that early-winter thaws and rains had filled the basin months ahead of time, and the Canada’s largest population of Flooded Jellyskin had been — inundated. None visible.

Knowing our Study Area as well as we do, we were able to lead the group to another, much smaller pond that floods more slowly, and there we showed off masses of this dark grey lichen, with its hundreds of tiny reddish brown dots.

Finally, on our way out of the woods, one of our young members wanted to see if the pond ice would support him, and when it did everyone else trooped out with him. The ice cracked, not alarmingly, and he kicked a hole in it and poked a stick down, finding that should it break, they’d be wet only to the knees. As the ice sagged under their weight, the leaf-stained water below welled up, drawing with it several very active aquatic insect larvae. Rob recognized them as the larvae of Predaceous Water Beetles  (Dytiscidae).

This adventure made us 20 minutes late getting our members back to their parents.

 

Jan. 28, 2023: Lichens

Inspired by last week’s lichen-oriented field trip, Rob decided to give a talk on lichens — what they are, why they’re special, how to identify them.

It was generally known in our group that lichens are composed of a fungus in a symbiotic relationship with algae. But it isn’t an equal partnership.  It’s more like the fungus treating their algae the way we treat livestock. Yes, we protect our animals from predators, give them a home (like a barn), and enable them to live abundantly in environments far from where they naturally occur. But eventually most domestic animals get eaten, and it’s this way with the algal partners, too, inside the lichen.

Most remarkable, to Rob’s way of thinking, is the capacity for the algae to turn on genes the fungi already have, but can’t activate on their own — the genes that enable the fungus to take a lichen form — a leafy structure, or a stalk with red caps on it. And similarly, to stimulate them to make “lichen substances” that no other living organisms produce.

Setting up a dissecting microscope, Rob placed under it the Macoun Club’s most recent acquisition from the Study Area, a specimen of a rather dark green, leafy lichen collected on last week’s field trip. Then he sliced into it with a safety-razor blade, dabbed a micro-drop of household bleach onto the white medulla inside — and under the eyes of the assembled Macouners, the spot instantly turned red. This indicated the lichen substance lecanoric acid, which is an identifying character for the species Flavopunctelia flavientor (Speckled Greenshield). The specimen will be entered as No. 2427 in the Macoun Club Lichen Collection.

 

February 4, 2023: Rocks, minerals and fossils

At the invitation of teacher Mike Leveille, we made his school, St. Laurent Academy, our destination. After an introductory overview of how it is that we live on a rocky planet, he encouraged our members to search through his display cabinets for specimens that illustrate some of the characteristics of minerals that are used to identify them, such as colour and luster.

Mike had also said he would name our own specimens. Some members had therefore brought in their boxes of pebbles, crystals, and fossils. One girl, for instance, showed him her specimen of the familiar, purple crystals known as amethyst; Mike, examining it, exclaimed that she had something even more interesting. Tiny needles of dark red rutile had grown inside the quartz.

Some members had brought in their fossils, too, and this is Mike’s specialty, and he carefully spelled out the geological period in which most of our local, Ottawa-area fossils originated, the Ordovician — a time of shallow seas whose muddy bottoms were inhabited by trilobites.

Come spring, we’ll go back to his favourite fossil-hunting grounds and look for more.

Feb. 11, 2023: Following fox and fisher

Macoun Club leader Rob Lee hosted the group at his home in Lanark County. After fitting everyone out with snowshoes (only two families had their own), he led into the hundreds of acres of wild forest across the road.

Right away we picked up the trail of a Red Fox. One of the children asked if we could follow it, and Rob figured it would lead us to as good a lunch place as he could have found himself, so off we went. Quite soon a second trail appeared, sometimes paralleling each other, and sometimes right on top of each other. The new footprints were larger and in a different pattern, grouped in a “one, two-three, four” series, as compared to the Fox’s line of single prints, “one, one, one.” This we recognized as the trail of a Fisher.

The two animals had been going in opposite directions, and about six hours apart; they never actually saw each other. Rob pointed out that the Fisher tracks were blurred by the last of last night’s snowfall, while those of the Fox were as fresh as daybreak this morning.

Presently our pursuit led us into a patch of woods where dead limbs of cedar, spruce and pine were at hand, and we built two lunch fires to accommodate the group. Sausages were roasted on sticks, vegetables baked, and tea boiled. We had forgotten the marshmallows.

After lunch, we changed direction, Rob leading straight to areas that were inhabited by Porcupines last year. One of the several dens was still occupied, in a big, fat Basswood. We examined the cedar and pine branches the Porcupine had cut down, and saw how the Deer had scoured the snow underneath for this fresh foliage dropped from high above.

Knowing the woods so well, Rob managed to bring the group back to his house two minutes before the first parent showed up to pick up their children.

 

February 25, 2023: When tracks are poor, know the animal

The overnight low was -27º C, so we made a return to Rob’s place, where we can have a lunch fire anywhere. We headed into his woods across the road from his house and gathered fuel from fallen treetops that were judged dry enough to serve as fuel. Max lit the fire, using only fine twigs as tinder, and then left the rest of us to feed his fire. Only Rob remembered to bring marshmallows.

There’d been a few inches of fluffy snow the day before, so animal tracks were poorly formed. We couldn’t even see whether the footprints had two toes or four toes, so from the size and spacing they could have been either Coyote or Deer. But we have come to know that not only do Deer drag their feet, but they drag them in parallel lines; if the snow is deep enough, the sweep of the Coyotes’ feet leaves marks more like a single line. Both animals had been travelling through the deciduous uplands, but the concentration of tracks showed that the Deer had been spending time under the lowland conifers.

Visiting the big Basswood tree with a den entrance just over our heads, which we saw last time, we found the tracks of two Porcupines, one small and one large, running out in different directions. The trails led to trees in which they had been feeding, Cedar and Oak, but the trees were now empty.

Continuing our search, we passed hills and hollows with no tracks at all; then found fresh Porcupine tracks leading down into a culvert under a road. A Coyote had been down there, too, but in such a place a Porcupine is perfectly safe.

 

March 4, 2023:

So many Macouners love to draw animals, and today we gave them a chance. Macoun Club leader Mike Leveille led a nature-art workshop. As can be seen in these drawings, he introduced some system into the kids’ free-form style. This included some techniques based on animal anatomy — he had assembled skeletons of deer, raccoon, and mudpuppy for the purpose.

The event was held at Mike’s school, the St-Laurent Academy, in Ottawa. Afterward, we could look again at the science displays in the corridors.

 

March 25, 2023: What do you know about Black Rat Snakes?

Are they venomous? How large can they get? Member Priya Morbia gave a presentation on these snakes, which do not occur in the Ottawa region. She had worked with the scientific team studying them while she was employed as a naturalist in Murphy’s Point Provincial Park last summer. For the older members, she added detailed advice on how to go about getting summer jobs in the parks system.

 

April 15, 2023: Maple taffy

The Macoun group came out to Rob’s place just a week too late to take part in his sap-boiling operation. All the snow had melted and the vernal ponds were full. Instead, Rob led over his sugar-bush trails the long way round. We found Blue-spotted Salamanders under logs high up on the hill. We came down to a pond and had lunch. Max lost his bowl and had to swim after it – he came out shivering.

Meanwhile, Peggy had been boiling down syrup until it was quite thick, and Rob produced some coarse snow he’d saved for the occasion. We suspended the pot of thickened syrup over the fire and soon were spooning hot taffy onto bowls filled with snow. There was enough for everybody to have all they wanted.

 

April 22, 2023: Nature art for The Little Bear

The Covid-19 pandemic has been hard on the Macoun Club, and our annual magazine, The Little Bear, has been one of the casualties. Rob handed out copies of the last one produced, from 2019, for inspection, and then we discussed what we could do for a special issue. After all, this is the 75^th anniversary of the beginning of the Macoun Club.

We couldn’t very well write articles on the spot, but we could draw natural-history subjects for the publication.

May 6, 2023: Spring in our Study Area

We made for our Study Tree woods, and ate lunch on the trees that had blown over in last year’s wild windstorm.

 

May 13, 2023: Dipping into Ordovician muds

Four-hundred and fifty million years ago, dying sea creatures – long, tapered nautiloids, graptolites, “inarticulate” brachiopods, and spiny trilobites – were settling onto the muddy sea floor. They got buried, turned to stone, and in our 21^st century, got dug up for some construction project and were dumped as landfill near the Macoun Marsh in Ottawa. Today the Macoun Club pawed through the slabs of black, oily shale looking for the fossilized remains of those creatures, and we were well rewarded. Macoun Club leader Mike Leveille used a heavy hammer to break open the bigger boulders, but most of our finds were made just by turning over loose pieces. Mike explained what kinds of animals the fossils represented, and everyone went away happy.

 

May 27, 2023: Who could stay in on such a beautiful spring day?

We had scheduled an indoor meeting, but the sun was shining and breeze blowing, and we just gave it up. Rob led the younger kids out through the Backyard Garden and across the expansive lawn below. He had books and maps and a plan for visiting special Arboretum trees, but Oskar asked if we could climb the steep hill beyond the flats, and Rob said yes. Before we could get there, the whole group swung away to gather by the water. Yellow Warblers and other birds were singing, and we found frogs and turtles.

 

June 3, 2023: Return to our Study Area

On the first cool day after a week of 30º to 35º weather, we gave up plans for wading in the ponds. Although birds were singing – Red-eyed Vireos and Pewees, but no Ovenbirds – our group focused on invertebrates.

We had hardly reached our Study Area when we happened on a swarm of ichneumons wasps clustered around a hole in a dead Sugar Maple. We surmised that there was some living thing inside that had drawn them but could not fathom what. (Expert comment subsequently suggested that a female had drawn a swarm of males — Megarhyssa atra, plus one M. greenei at the lower left.)

 

June 10, 2023: Fishes of the ancient past and of the deep sea

Following up our fossil trip three weeks ago, Mike Leveille presented two videos he had put together. The first explored the early fish of the Devonian period. In the second, he had interviewed the curators of the London Museum of Natural History about their collections of deep-sea fish.

The greatest excitement, however, was elicited by a bucketful of hundreds of realistic animal models, every one of which our members were keen to name as fast as they could.

 

June 17, 2023: Not hot enough for us!

We went to Pakenham. Just like May 27^th, it was not hot enough to entice us into the water, though Indian Creek did draw us to its banks twice. On the way, we sent hundreds of toad tadpoles streaming away from us in a shrinking vernal pool in a sandpit; many had already transformed and were hopping around like small insects on the surrounding ground. We found the crushed remains of a Painted Turtle on the road into the woods, so when we came upon a Blandings Turtle, we moved it off to the side. A photograph of its shell pattern did not match any individual previously seen in the area.

We ate lunch by the waterfall on Indian Creek, and then searched the waters for crayfish. Rob introduced everyone to the peppery, tongue-numbing properties of Prickly Ash’s inner bark.

We visited Gerry’s cabin, too, and found more creatures in a calmer part of the creek. We enticed striped minnows called Dace into view with breadcrumbs, and Rob caught a long red-bellied leech in his hands. It never bit — just wanted to get back to the water.

 

June 24, 2023:  End-of-year party!

We gathered for the last event of the 2022-23 school year, sharing observations as usual and watching our traditional outdoors film, Rise and Fall of the Great Lakes, by Bill Mason. We delight in its humour, surprises, and drama, and absorb its lessons in glacial geology and conservation.  This 20-minute film has been shown at the end of probably every year since it came out in 1968.

We handed out awards for strong participation in our program, and presented each member with a copy of The Little Bear, under a bright orange cover. This is Issue No. 75, appropriately marking the 75^th anniversary of the Macoun Club. A major celebration is planned for next fall, on Oct. 21^st.

Finally, we turned to the food families had brought, such as home-baked muffins, brownies and fresh fruit. There was time, at last, for the leaders to engage with the various parents who enable their kids to attend under all kinds of trying circumstances.