Happy Thanksgiving

Greetings and Happy Thanksgiving to all. I thought I’d try an acrostic to celebrate the holiday and share a few highlights of my year.

Hope - On this day of thanks, I wish all of you a healthful and happy day of family and friends and hope that our world turns more just, equitable, and honorable.

Aix - A summer highlight was hiking up Mt. Aix, a 7,766 feet peak, about 20 miles east of Mt. Rainier. The hike up is steep and lovely taking one to treeline and the land of krummholz, or stunted trees, with outstanding views of the surrounding peaks. The lack of trees, at least view-blocking ones, helps make this a land where I felt an openness and freedom not encountered on the lower elevation, westside-of-the-divide hikes I usually take. Curiously, no one knows the origin of the name though a map showed it in 1880 as Mt. Aiks. It is pronounced “aches.”

Mt. Aix with krummholz whitebark pines.

Pine - In the world of conifers, Washington is known for western red cedar and Douglas fir but right now I am quite fascinated with whitebark pine, Pinus albicaulis. A keystone and foundational species, whitebarks provide food, water (via snow), and habitat for species ranging from grouse to fox to wolverines to squirrels. Without whitebark pines, the high elevations of the Cascades, particularly east of the divide, would be far less diverse, and because this ecosystem crowns the mountains, the effects spread downslope multiplying the importance of the trees. 

Peace - May peace prevail near and far, within families, between religions, between species, in our hearts and souls, deeply and truly, honestly and thoroughly. Please take some take for yourself, to slow down and reflect. Each of us can make a difference.

Yips - One of the highlights of my urban natural history year was hearing the beautiful yipping and yowling of coyotes three blocks from our house. (I was also lucky to see two walk by our house one morning.) As I wrote when I saw them: “Coyotes reaffirm for me a central truth about humans….Whether it’s weather, migrating geese, morning birdsong, or tides, or encounters with mundane species, such as rats, pigeons, gulls, and cockroaches, wildness permeates our urban spaces and plays a role in our daily existence. This not only brings me hope that we will never banish nature but also makes my life more enjoyable and interesting, and for that I rejoice. Yay coyotes!

Thanks - Thank you, thank you, thank you to all who read my newsletter. Writing these missives has become one of my weekly highlights, in part because I have fun but more because of your support, via comments and subscriptions, paid and unpaid. In the almost three years I have been doing this, I have received well over a 1,000 comments, none of which have been negative. Sure you corrected my errors, which I always appreciate, and you have disagreed with me but always in a respectful and thoughtful manner. I look forward to continuing to share my adventures and thoughts and to hearing from you.

Huckleberry - I am now writing the huckleberry chapter of my Cascades book and just learned that the earliest uses of the word huckleberry were in reference to an eastern species in the genus Gaylusscacia, which doesn’t occur in the west. Intriguingly, early English explorers to our part of the world, such as David Douglas and Archibald Menzies, called the plant whortleberry, whereas Americans, such as George McClellan (“The flavor was most excellent.”) and Lewis and Clark (who had their usual spelling issues, giving us huckleburry, huckkleberry, and huckle berry), used huckleberry, when they spelled it correctly. By the way, I have been told that the so-called huckleberries of the east pale in taste comparison to our huckleberries.

Arbutus - North of the border, our madrona is the Canadian’s Arbutus, a name derived from the plant’s genus. Glossy, dark green leaves, papery, cinnamon-ochre bark, a springtime display of thousands of white flowers, and a late summer explosion of bright orange, warty fruits combine to create a tree that commands attention. You can see this in Seattle where three neighborhoods are named for them: Madrona (apparently, though for no known reason, Californians prefer madrone and PNWers madrona); Laurelhurst (early settlers often called madronas laurels); and Magnolia (because cartographer Lt. George Davidson thought the madronas he saw were magnolias). He was only off by a 1,000 miles.

Nutcracker - The Clark’s Nutcracker is a totally cool and amazing and crafty and essential birds of the Cascades. In a typical year, they harvest and cache tens of thousands of seeds of whitebark pines and then have the spatial memory to go back and locate them, across dozens of miles of landscape. The two species are so connected that they most likely evolved together in North America. Plus, anytime you see a whitebark pine, you can pretty much be guaranteed that it was planted by a Clark’s Nutcracker.

Kelp - Nursery, safe haven, and food source, the kelp forests of Puget Sound are critical habitat for a host of animals ranging from bacteria to mussels to herring to rockfish. Bull kelp, with its long stipe, turnip-shaped bulb, and majestic blades, is probably the best known, but another dozen and a half species also grow here and create a complex three-dimensional ecosystem. Curiously, kelp are not plants. They are in separate kingdom of life, the Chromista, which includes downy mildews, potato blight, and the malarial parasite. I was lucky to write a chapter about kelp in my book Homewaters, if you want to know more.

Seattle - In case you had any doubt, I am quite fond of my hometown. Sure it has many issues but it’s where I am grounded, where I feel comfortable, where my family is, and where my heart is. I am not native to this place but have long tried, by learning the history, paying attention to the natural world, and adapting to the rhythms of the landscape, to naturalize myself. It’s a long journey but so far I have enjoyed it.

Geology - I am self avowed geogeek, a rock nerd, a stone rhapsodist. My website: geologywriter.com. I have written two books about rocks: Stories in Stone and Cairns. When I watch movies, I regularly comment on the building stone in the background. In fact, one of my favorite movies is about rocks: Breaking Away. You can send sympathy comments to my wife.

Isopod - Terrestrial isopods are land-based relatives of crabs and lobsters, better known as pillbugs, potatobugs, and roly polies. Our most common backyard species are the sowbugs, Porcellio scaber and Oniscus aselus, and the pillbug, Armadillidium vulgare. The main difference to non-scientists: pillbugs can roll themselves into a ball and sowbugs can’t. A list compiled in 1935 listed 66 names, including bibble bug, coffin-cutter, God A’mighty’s pigs, slater, woodlice, little old woman of the wood, and tiggy hog. The author also wrote that some people believed that seeing a sowbug out during the day meant a sign of rain and that swallowing sowbugs helped cows “to promote the restoration of their cud.” Certainly seems likely to me.

V - formation - Few sights are as elegant and graceful as a skein of migrating geese. “As the clarion notes float downward on the still night air, who can resist temptation to rush out of doors and peer into darkness for a possible glimpse at the passing flock, as the shadowy forms glide over our roofs on their long journey? Or, even in daylight, what man is so busy that he will not pause and look upward at the serried ranks of our grandest waterfowl, as their well-known honking notes announce their coming and their going, he knows not whence or whither?” Arthur Cleveland Bent, Life Histories of North American wild fowl, 1923

Igneous - Igneous rocks, such as granite and basalt, are the superstars of the rock world. Not only do they star in bad, disaster porn movies (Volcano and Dante's Peak), they also make headlines (such as our fair Mount St. Helens erupting) and give Washington state its amazing skyline and good wines. Igneous rocks also create a problem, at least for paleontologists because so much of our state has been covered by igneous rock, hiding or destroying any fossils. Oh well, we still have some pretty darned nifty fossils.

Nisqually - Another highlight of my year was venturing out onto the Nisqually Glacier, one of the best known and most studied glaciers on the planet. I was lucky enough to see several unexpected and lovely plant gardens. Splashed with color from several plants, the tiny ecosystems thrive in the soil formed by the ever eroding mountain around the ice. The glacier will have a central role in my Cascades book.

Geoduck - How could anyone not love these cute bivalves? Okay, I get it but if you haven’t seen baby geoducks, you are missing out. With a shell about the size of a lima bean and a dainty little neck that wriggles so pleasantly, the babies are almost enough to make you overlook the rather less pleasant shape of their parents. Probably the most abundant non-microscopic animal in Puget Sound (totally hundreds of millions), geoducks are also one of the longest lived, with one found north of Seattle that reached the grand old age of 187.

May your Thanksgiving Day be one of joy.