August 04, 2005 - When trees toppleWhen trees topple
"WHEN A TREE FALLS in the forest,
and no one is around to hear it, is
there a sound ?" Have you ever heard
that puzzling question that leads to
everything from the science of sound
to the complicated medical workings
of the ear? I'm surely not going to get
anywhere near that one but it might
be good food for a discussion when
the conversation
FOCUS runs out.
The reason
ON for my bringing
this teaser up
NATURE is that we just
experienced a
by Paul tree falling. My
Stoutenburgh daughter had
stopped over to
chat and all went well till she heard
a crack and saw something move,
then we all heard this terrific crash. It
sounded as if it came from down near
the greenhouse that's attached to the
south side of the house.
We all looked a little stunned. I
know I was. In unison we rose and
headed toward the greenhouse. There
it was, a huge limb the size of a tree
lying on the ground. This was no little
branch. No, sir, it was eight inches at
the base. Of course, it was dead and
full of decay. We looked up and saw
where it had broken off from the par-
ent tree about 20 feet up.
I often write about decay and how
important it is to our well - being, for
without its dissolving power we'd be
buried in debris of all sorts. This tree
that narrowly missed the greenhouse
is just part of the cycle of birth, life
and eventually death. In the forest
this tree would go unnoticed and
lie on the ground until the various
forces of nature literally consumed
its woody bulk and converted it into
a rich compost. Never had any of us
seen or heard of a tree just falling
down on its own. Now perhaps when
that teaser question comes up we'll
be able to add some-
thing to the discus-
sion. The tree th
Now how about missed the
doing a little clam-
ming? First off, it's
not like it used to be.
Now before clam-
ming in our creeks,
you have to get a
shellfish permit; without it the bay
constable might just give you a cita-
tion. Then you have to check to find
out if the particular creek you are
going to clam in is open for shell fish-
ing. Then, and this is the hard part,
you have to find a spot where you can
find some clams.
If you've done all these things, the
next step is to decide how you are
going to get the clams. (Are you still
with me ?) I find that a rake about
12 inches wide with long, narrow
tongs works best for me. If you want
The Suffolk Times • August 4, 2005.1 SA
The little green heron often goes unnoticed as It stalks along the marsh edge
or around your dock. It builds a stick nest usually some distance from where
It spends the day hunting for klllles, small crabs, or even goldfish from my
pond. Look for It, as It's a neat bird to know.
an easier - pulling rake, just buy a
smaller size. Then there's the old -
fashioned way to get clams, the way
the Indians did it. They used their
feet. We call it "treading." There's
another easy way, similar to tread-
ing, and that's using your hands.
That's okay, but I suggest you wear
gloves, for sharp shells can take the
fun out of clamming. We'll take our
little 13 -foot Whaler to get us to the
bay. By the way, if you clam out in
the bay, you don't need any permit,
as the bay water comes under the
jurisdiction of the state department
of environmental conservation.
On our way to the boat my eye
caught a green heron stalking its
noonday meal in the shallows. This
dark - colored heron with its heavy,
pointed bill nests around here. I truly
don't know why they call this small
heron a green heron.
It's predominantly
at narrowly a dark color with a
greenhouse chestnut neck and
cycle only a slight amount
of green on its back.
even- It's surprising how
tolerant these herons
are. All they ask is a
little seclusion and
some low trees to nest in. I must say
they are not the greatest nest builders.
They're almost as bad as the mourn-
ing dove when it comes to nests. I've
often come across a green heron's
stick nest that you could literally see
right through to the soft greenish-
blue eggs. Usually when I approach
the nest, the bird has already skillfully
slipped away.
Besides the green heron that greet-
ed us, four ospreys were playing king
of the hill, or should I say king of the
nesting platform that a pair unsuc-
cessfully used this year. I'd never seen
ospreys fighting over a nest site, but
here they were, claws outstretched, as
they dove at one another, screaming
all the time. It only lasted a few min-
utes, but in those few minutes they
really put on a show for us
Time out: I'm writing this out on
our little brick patio, which has a bird
feeder a mere four feet away from
is just part of the
of birth, life and
tually death.
Catch
Paul Stoutenburgh
every week in
TIMES /REVIEW
NEWSPAPERS.
where I'm sitting, and here comes a
bold titmouse that lands on it, gives
me a quick look with those big, black,
beady eyes, picks up a sunflower seed
after testing two or three, and is off
to a limb above me. Here it positions
the seed under its feet and promptly
hammers away on it. Pieces of shell
drift down from above, a true sign it's
gotten to the good part of the sun-
flower seed.
Now back to clamming. This time
I'm going to try it in the bay, so we
putt slowly out of the creek. A group
of five willets (shorebirds) flies by. I
wonder if they are a family. Here's a
shorebird that doesn't go to the far
North but nests right here on Long
Island, particularly along the south
shore. You can't miss this shorebird
when it flies, for it flashes white in its
wings.
Along the boggy bank I spot one
of our smallest shorebirds, a least
sandpiper. What's it doing here? It's
hard to believe, but it's just finished
nesting in the far north and is now
heading south on its long journey to
Central America, where it will spend
the winter. In the tundra where these
birds nest there are vast stretches that
are the breeding ground for all sorts
of shorebirds, ducks, terns, and even
the snowy owl.
When are we going to learn that
marshes, swamps, grasslands, forests,
and, yes, the pine barrens right here
on Long Island are vital to a whole
array of birds, plants, animals, in-
sects — you name it. Without these
"wastelands," as some call them, an
important part of the puzzle of life
would be lost. And who knows how
important that part is? Every day
we're finding certain plants are be-
ing used to combat cancer and other
diseases, horseshoe crabs are used
for research on the eye, and even the
small firefly that blinks to us in the
evening is contributing to the world
of medicine with its particular gift
of light. And what about the pine
barrens — they are our last hope
for clean, unpolluted water. If that's
not a reason to protect them, I don't
know what is.
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