Loading...
September 25, 1975 - Events Along The Burma Road On Fire IslandSeptember 25, 1975 The Suffolk Times focus on nature by Paul Stoutenburgh Events Along The Burma Road On Fire Island It's one of those lazy, wonderful days, calm and warm without a hit of adventure in the air. Behind the dunes the air is hot and rippled. Out of this shimmering haze I can see the erratic flight of Monarch butterflies moving to the west. These large black and orange butterflies are on a journey almost impossible to imagine. Weighing a bit more than a feather, they will migrate south to Georgia, the Carolinas and other southern states for the winter. What a remarkable feat for such a small, fragile insect! What storms, winds and rains will hamper their journeys! What remarkable mechanism keeps there going? We all marvel at today's microtechnology until we start comparing it to the intricacies of the insect world. Imagine the energy pack the butterfly must muster to make this trip and how does it navigate? Today's designer of rockets, computers, etc., must surely feel humble before these specialists of the insect world. MIGRATING MONARCH BUTTERFLIES sketch by Dennis Puleston My day goes on 'til duty calls and I must make a trip trip down the beach. On the way back I take the sandy road that straddles the whole of Fire Island. It's called the Burma Road by most and is used by vehicles only for emergencies and of course by walkers any time. There are puddles here and there where plant life has decayed and created a a muddish thick layer heavy enough to hold water. It's here, Iike the oasis in the desert, that the wild life of the island come to drink. The deer, the fox, the raccoon and a host of other small animals and birds visit these spots to be refreshed. One of the larger puddles was teaming with little black polywogs. The toad com- mon throughout the island seeks out these fresh water spots to lay its eggs. Few realize how important these and other marsh areas are to the survival of the toad. It's in these warm, still waters that the magic of nature brings forth life each year for another generation. The best time to see these toads is in the evening. During the day they are more secretive, but at night I'll see five or six just walking down the path to the boats. All sorts of insects make up their diet, but the mosquito is probably its chief food I supply out here. We have five species of I mosquitoes. (Sometimes I think there are < five times that number.) But like anything 1 else, one soon learns to live even with these - pesty fellows. Not only do the adult toads eat mosquitoes, but the small squirming tad- poles in the hundreds of wet spots eat the larvae of the mosquito also. It's that old story of who eats whom first. As I was standing at the edge of a puddle, amazed at the hugh number of tadpoles below me, the water started to move. Like something out of a nightmare, a black mud - covered form moved half- submerged across the puddle. Looking closer I could see a mouth like some gigantic machine opening and closing, taking everything in its path. It was one of the relics of millions of years ago in the form of a snapping turtle. He was dining on tadpoles by the mouthful. Basically, I believe in letting nature work out its problems, but this was just a bit too much. I bent down and carefully grabbed the rough spiny tail and lifted the snarling, snapping turtle away from his Sunday dinner. I would not destroy him, but I did walk him a good distance away before letting him go. Probably he laughed at me as he plodded slowly back to the puddle to finish his meal of polywogs. Continuing on my way along the road I noticed, in a low moist spot, one of nature's most delicate flowers —the Sea Pinks. They are rather uncommon and I know of only one marsh in Greenport where they still grow. There were others but dredged fill now covers them by two feet of crusted mud. The salt marsh itself does not usually give us too many flowers, but as you get into the areas of brackish wather some flowering plants can tolerate the salt and we have the Sea Pinks and Marsh Mallows growing. The Mallow, a relative of the hibiscus family, grows four feet tall and makes the tiny Sea Pinks almost inconspicuous. As we eat from the back porch of the dune cottage we can see a great Pink Mallow area off to our right. I remember scanning the area with binoculars, looking for deer one evening, when I spotted the first blossom. Like an old friend that single pink bit of color announced the great clusters that would arrive within the week. Now, as I look over the pink area, I spot a white one. Nature somehow has created a hybrid. My mind flashes back home for a moment to the pond in our pasture. I've introduced mallow there and they should be out now, too. I'm Iwondering if the cattle, as they wander down to the pond to drink, are appreciating them as much as I am.