Christmas Day

By the Portage River.

Cold water, warm air

Fog hung over the dam in the morning, but the day was sunny and warm, mid 60s at least. I took a trip up the Portage River in my kayak - and on the way back was caught against a log and flipped - not once, but twice! The water was cold! What I learned: Don't wear a cotton shirt while paddling the river - it holds that cold water like a sponge.

Twice I saw big fish leap and hit something on branches sticking out of the water. I couldn't get a clear look at either of them, moving too fast. Catching bugs?

December 1st, Icy dawn

Cold, snow and ice predicted for later in the day. The river is steel grey over the Boys Dam, the only color a line along the horizon from the rising sun. Bits of ice cling to bare shrubs along the river. The woods along the Portage River look empty.



But the little skunk-cabbage sprouts (see October 4) are still sticking up above the dry leaves. They haven't grown any, but haven't died, either.

November 1st, Yellow and Green

Warm and beautiful; blue sky reflects in Hoffman Pond. So much is still green, but the maples are beautiful yellow, the viburnum in the swamp is pink, and many trees are losing their leaves. A trio of swans floats just upriver.



I love to look through the Portage River's clear water to see the jewel-like fall leaves lying on the bottom.

Light through the leaves

A stained-glass effect of light through the maples hanging over the Portage River this morning. A powerful storm blew through this week, tornado sirens wailing as the wind whipped the trees around. Fountains of greenish flame pouring out of great slashes in black clouds. But today is sunny and beautiful.

Skunk cabbages sprouting?

This doesn't seem quite right. Usually I first see my skunk cabbages (Symplocarpus foetidus) coming up through the snow in January (see January 20th.) Why are they sprouting now? Or is this something I've missed in other years? Here is one with it's big pineapple-ly seed pod:



And another:


The spicebush by the river is turning yellow. It has tiny green buds at the tips of the branches.


A lichen and a mushroom on the bank.

High Banks and Small Flowers

Not much fall color yet; silver maple and poison ivy hanging over the water are red and peach. The water-willow "islands" in Hoffman Pond and upriver from the dam are all red, slowly fading to brown. Some viburnum growing in the shade is also bright red. Downriver on the high banks all is mostly green. Leaves are falling from the maples. Little asters in purple and white are still in bloom.



On other rivers Indian Mounds are found on high banks like these next to the Portage. I wonder who lived here long ago.


This little aster is decidedly purple. Peterson leads me to "bush aster", Aster dumosus, it's something similar. This one has hairy stems.


This one has much longer, white petals. And longer leaves, leaf edges also smooth and flowers growing out of the joint with the leaves. It also is pretty much in the water of the marsh. I have a feeling that there are a lot of asters... possibly Seriocarpus linifolius?

The "Celtic", Portage River steamboat

"The Dentler Steam Boat in the foreground built by Frank Dentler to transport grain, wool, and lumber from the three mills east and west to the rail stations. The boat was also used to transport people up the river to dances. During the election of 1860, the Wide Awakes, a political group, used the boat for a trip up the river and on the return held a torch light parade through the town. On its first trip they knocked the smoke stack off going under a bridge. Mill in back had laminated 2x4s for grain bins. Burned on the first day of Prohibition. The mill workers stocked up, got drunk, burnt the mill, part of the steam boat. The boat was named "Celtic"."

From "Park Township Sesquicentennial", Township Officials, Eds. (1988)

(Prohibition began on January 16, 1920)

End of September flowers

I can't quite capture how they light up the dark understory, but here is one plant caught in a moment of sunshine (Portage River in the background.) Fairy wands of glowing yellow, against the dark leaves. (Solidago that grows in deep shade; fairy wand goldenrod.)


Flowers of Indiangrass, (Sorghastrum nutans).


Various native asters are also in bloom right now, in many shades of purple and blue.

The Tree Canopy

The National Geographic has articles about scientists who haul themselves to the tops of rain forest trees in the Amazon River basin, and find up there a whole separate world of living things. Looking up along the Portage River, inside the city limits of Three Rivers, I see that we also have a canopy full of life, eighty or a hundred feet and more above me. Birds, mammals, insects, lichens and mosses live in the sunlight above the shaded marsh. I wonder if anyone has ever bothered to study this unique ecological zone? True, it may not be as romantic as going to the Amazon. But it seems to me that there is a lot going on up there.

I'd like to know why the dragonflies choose to sit on exposed snags so high above the river. I'd like to get a good look at things growing in the canopy, and watch the inhabitants. But I'm not a mountain climber so I don't think that will be happening. I can watch from below, but the dense, thick cover of leaves hides all but an occasional glimpse. I can hear the sounds, though. Locust, woodpecker, squirrel I know; but there are also strange unidentified calls and cries, whistles and chirps. What is happening up there?

Freshwater mussels, catbird and buttonbush

August 1st, 90 degrees and very dry. I saw a catbird, it came very close to me, unusual since they are very shy. Lots of goldfinches feeding on the sunflowers, I wish I had a camera fast enough to get a photo of that! The kingfisher has stayed nearby all summer.

The Portage is very low, and I went wading down the river. This is Cephalanthus occidentalis, buttonbush, with it's orange-y (not brown) pods, hanging over the river.

Usually I see the freshwater mussels laying on shore, popped open and eaten by some animal. The presence of them usually means that the water is clean, but I still don't think I would eat one. Today I found some shells in the river. People here just generically call them "freshwater clams", but it turns out there are many different kinds. Many that I have seen here are very large, maybe eight inches or more long. This one is about four or five inches. I don't know what it is/was. They were all eaten in the past by humans, back when rivers and lakes were unpolluted; since they are so hard to tell apart, the existence of all those common names probably means they had some economic importance at some time, otherwise why would people in the old days name them?

Clams and mussels are much under attack from pollution and by invasive zebra mussels as well as loss of habitat and hosts.

Here is an alphabetic list of "freshwater clams" found in the St. Joseph drainage, therefore most likely in the Portage River too. The links to photos open in a a new window; web standards say that opening new windows frightens people, so beware.

Actinonaias ligamentina ("Mucket", previously Actinonaias carinata)

Alasmidonta viridis ("Slippershell", also called Alasmidonta calceolus)

Alasmidonta marginata ("Elktoe")

Amblema plicata ("Three-ridge")

Anodontoides ferussacianus ("Cylindrical papershell")

Cyclonaias tuberculata ("Purple wartyback")

Elliptio dilatata ("Spike")

Epioblasma triquetra ("Snuffbox", Michigan State listed as endangered)

Fusconaia flava ("Wabash pigtoe")

Lampsilis siliquoidea ("Fat mucket")

Lampsilis ventricosa ("Pocketbook")

Lasmigona compressa ("Creek heelsplitter")

Lasmigona costata ("Fluted shell")

Leptodea fragilis ("Fragile papershell")

Ligumia recta ("Black sandshell")

Pleurobema coccineum ("Round pigtoe")

Potamilis alatus ("Pink heelsplitter", previously Proptera alata)

Pyganodon grandis ("Giant Floater" - what's that mean?)

Strophitus undulatus ("Creeper")

Truncilla donaciformis ("Fawnsfoot")

Truncilla truncata ("Deertoe")

Venustaconcha ellipsiformis ("Ellipse")

Villosa iris ("Rainbow")

July, still dry

In bloom is one of my favorite Michigan wildflowers, the beautiful Asclepias incarnata, pink milkweed, also called marsh milkweed since it lives along the edge of the water.
No rain. No humidity. Drought along the Portage River. All the California relatives and friends have been here, commenting on the California-like weather.
Along the edge of the river I spotted a stand of Saururus cernuus, which is called "water dragon" and "lizard tail" among other common names. There is nothing even remotely lizardy about it, but "cernuus" means "nodding"; and in the wind, the fluffy white plumes bobbed and wagged like the tails of little animals.


Also this, another water plant. It is everywhere along the edges and in the bog-islands in the river, but I don't know what it is. Flowers are small, notice the fly for size.

Marsh rose (Rosa palustris) growing by the edge of the water above the dam. We also saw a mink (Mustela vison ) this morning, running along the Portage River's edge with a large insect in it's mouth. The weather is still very dry and still quite cool. Same birds, titmouses, cardinals, robins. I can hear woodpeckers. A male grackle came to the feeder with three oversize "babies"; they were as large as the adult but sat on a branch and squaked to be fed. He would hop down to the feeder, grab a bite of food, stuff it in one of the "babies" mouths, then do it again. This went on for about ten minutes!

Mid June - a big bug

A clickbeetle, Alaus oculatus. He is huge, maybe two inches long. Looking him up online, I found a description saying that Alaus oculatus are seldom found north of the Ohio River. The Portage River is WAY north of there! Global Warming? (Photograph by Joel Hartzell.)

Leaves are dense and shade is very dark along the river. Mayapples have fruit on them. The nonnative mulberry fruits are ripe. Ticks and biting flies are out and about. It's hot, but no rain so all is dry. Not so good for the corn. We've been to a wedding and a family reunion this month, good activities for June!

Haven't seen many carp. The carp hunters thinned them out quite a lot, hunting them with bow and arrow or with gigs, standing up in their boats. The blue heron doesn't come as often now that there are always kids swimming at the Boys Dam.

April Snow

In the swamp, the skunk-cabbages are covered with snow, as are the seed leaves of the jewel impatiens and marsh-marigold.

On Tuesday it was 77 degrees and Wednesday it was 26 degrees -- and it has been snowing the last three days! We are going to be hiding Easter eggs in snow drifts on Sunday. And it's pretty much the end of the nonnative "spring flowers." I wonder what the violets are doing, under the snow.
The downy woodpecker has been at the feeder every day; there are coots on the pond and I hear the cardinal calling.

Violets! and something strange

Violets have suddenly emerged, overnight there are flowers in the woods. Blue violets, red violets, but mostly white violets.
Yesterday I saw a flock of Bufflehead on Fisher Lake; I haven't seen them on the pond this year, just Goldeneyes. A very active little downy woodpecker was hanging around all morning.

The sun was just coming up when I went out this morning with the dogs, I saw something strange over the dam but was able to grab a quick picture!

Silver Maple, Red Admiral, frogs and sunshine

Spring has arrived for the animals. I've seen several nuthatches and lots of juncos and a whole big flock of grackles has moved in across the street. Lots of robins. A pair of mallards were walking around, shopping for real estate, but the joggers running by out front were not to their liking. Coots, still a flock of coots on the pond, not as many as before. And Canada geese. No grebes.

The dogs herded the woodchuck out from under the front porch but, being herding dogs and not killers, they then didn't know what to do with him. So they herded him under a bush and kept him there until I pulled them away by their tails. He made a chattering noise I never heard before. He seems to have moved away, can't imagine why!

Frogs are in evidence, twittering from every bit of lowland. I don't hear any of the singers though, just the spring peepers. At the lake, before it was developed, we heard the singers first; their unearthly chorus was my first introduction to the strange and wonderful wildlife of Michigan. They don't seem to do well around people, and many Michiganders don't seem to know what I'm talking about. "You mean the peepers?" they say. No, the singing toad, Bufo americanus, with the long trill, sung in choruses of different, harmonious trills, rising and falling. Sometimes they sing in perfect intervals, thirds and fifths; sometimes they drone while one breaks away, higher, like a soloist. There is a recording here: www.naturesound.com/frogs/pages/amtoad.html . Multiply that times twenty or a hundred and you have something to take your breath away. (The same website also has a recording of the spring peeper's shrill whistle, also better in big groups but not the same as the singing.)

Flitting around the dried leaves is a single Red Admiral butterfly, too quick for my camera.

The warm weather has caused a surge of growth. Red leaf-buds are all over the silver maples, especially where they hang over the water. I see marsh-marigold leaves (no buds or flowers yet) in my swamp. The skunk-cabbages have doubled in size and the ones in the sunniest spots are growing leaves.
It's the annual race between the new sprouts and the flowering plants and the killing darkness of the nonnative Norweigian maples. When they leaf out -- before any native trees -- that's the end of the flowers and the end of the growing season for natives. I wish I could get rid of them, but they are too big.

Thunderstorms are predicted, and it's in the high 60s. I had the back door open last night and some big mosquitos came in.

Snow, Rain, Sun (with coots)

A week ago I was driving along an almost impassable (due to heavy, blowing snow) M60 and now the temperature is in the 40s, rain one day and sun the next. Growing up in California I always thought talking about the weather to be the dreariest part of being old, but now in the midwest I can see why it's such a topic of conversation. Odd, unstable, and not very predictable.

A rim of snow remains along one side of the pond, but the ice is all gone. The large number of coots remain, leaving long silvery trails as the move across the water. Yesterday a cardinal was at the feeder and two young male robins were chasing each other around the house. A woodchuck appeared from somewhere and scuttled across the neighbor's yard and down over the bank to the river. And I'm pretty sure I saw the beaver swimming.

Here's a picture upriver. The floating island-like mats of vegetation have re-emerged from under the snow, and pairs of geese are checking them out for nest sites, like human couples looking at real estate.

March 1: Mergansers and Thunderstorms

Thunder and lightning this am; the ice is being washed away. There's now lots of open water, and the geese are standing on the little floes around the edges of those "islands" of floating vegetation.

Four mergansers! Swimming close up to the top of the dam, one seeming to enjoy getting as close as possible. Three males and a female (Mergus merganser).

My favorite merganser sighting was at about this time of year in our cove off Lake Templene, when the ice was melting. Five females, working together like so many border-collies on sheep, slowly drove a school of fish up against the shore; when the fish were well trapped, it was a feeding frenzy! Happening right under my window!

I watch for them each year. They are not willing to appear anywhere that they sense people nearby; I doubt they are still seen on Lake Templene due to the sensless elimination of trees and jammed together development. (I cried when the tree that had reared generations of green herons was cut down -- and then left there; cut down apparently only out of a general dislike of trees, as nothing has been built anywhere near it.)

Anyway. Here on the river in the last week I have seen two downy woodpeckers, juncos, a nuthatch, and titmouses. Titmice? A housefinch was inspecting out porch, and Jim saw a robin by the St. Joseph in Mendon.

February 22nd -- Spiky Ice

Ice like tiny thorns all over everything (neither of these plants actually has thorns, it's all ice.)



I've never seen anything like it and neither has anyone here that I showed the picture to. But then, they didn't notice it this time, either.