What are meetings and field trips like?
Here's what we've done so far this year:
Feb 4, 2012. EAB: There are no survivors . . . but there is hope
For nearly 10 years we have been watching and worrying about the Emerald Ash Borer as it spreads from its starting point in Detroit, Michigan. We first learned about this invasive species from quarantine entomologist Bruce Gill back then, and today he came in to give us an update.
Bruce brought in samples of ash wood completely stripped of their cambium by the beetle larvae, and bark punctured by the characteristic D-shaped holes. He also had sample bottles filled with larvae and pinned specimens of the beetles themselves, which we examined under a microscope. (For more pictures, see the account of March 6, 2010.)
 The beetle jumped the main barrier set up to stop it several years ago. In Ottawa it has spread into most neighbourhoods in the city, and in some whole streets are being cleared of trees this winter. Bruce confirmed what we have heard from other biologists: there are no survivors in the world of native ash trees. But he described how other entomologists have tackled two important questions: how to detect the arrival of this insect in new locations, and how to control its population so that ash trees may survive. The answer to both questions appears to be wasps.
There is a native Canadian wasp that very efficiently hunts down wood-boring beetles like this one, and brings them back to its nest. Watching at the nests will bring the species to light years before it becomes numerous enough to be caught in man-made traps. And searches in China, where the Emerald Ash Borer comes from, have resulted in the discovery of two tiny parasitic wasps that probably keep the beetle under such tight control there that it has always been considered rare. One of these wasps, which are new to science, has been released in the United States, and there are hopeful signs that it may someday exert control here, too.
Jan. 28, 2012: Fresh snow, for animal tracks and for kids to play in
Conditions seemed poor — there'd been freezing rain, which left an ice crust, followed by a little wet snow. But the snow ended in the night, which meant that all the creatures that are out and moving at dawn, had left their mark on the clean, new surface. Though we scarcely saw a living creature (other than birds in the air), by the tracks we knew we were sharing our Study Area woods with White-Tailed Deer, Snowshoe Hares, Red Squirrels and Gray Squirrels, Deer Mice and weasels, Raccoons and Ruffed Grouse.
And if any of these creatures were to take up our trail of snowshoe tracks, they would see that we had peered into Porcupine dens, chopped holes in the ice (to sample for aquatic invertebrates), and spent a lot of effort trying to climb ridiculously small hills of snow where someone had stood defiantly on top.
Jan. 21, 2012: Do species respond differently to climate change?
We all know some of our local butterflies to see them, such as Monarch, Mourning Cloak, Tiger Swallowtail, and Cabbage White, which are typical of our region. A warming climate may allow — or compel — these and other insects to move northward. A new ecological pattern will develop. Which species are likely to succeed is the subject of Jay Fitzsimmons' PhD studies at the University of Ottawa.
 Jay had summarized the life histories of a dozen local butterflies on the back of custom-made picture cards and asked us to consider which species are most likely to be able to shift their distribution ranges northward. Several factors seemed to matter most: the size of the populations, the mobility of the adult butterfly, and the availability of particular food plants in their new home.
We got to keep the cards, which are beautiful and interesting!
Jan. 14, 2012: A fine day, far below freezing
The latest storm brought enough additional snow for us to all get out our snowshoes for a trip into the Pakenham Hills. Along the way we noted how the regular walking tracks of a White-Tailed Deer became all bunched together in confusion in one place, with bits of White Cedar foliage scattered over the snow. The overhanging branches were too high for a deer walking to have reached; it must have reared up on its hind legs to browse. Nearby, a Snowshoe Hare had also paused in its movements to nip off a few Ironwood twig tips just a 6 inches above the snow.
All seemed safe and secure out on the beaver ponds, which, one would think, are surely well frozen after several bouts of deep cold (including this one, with a high of -18 degrees C, or zero Fahrenheit). But inadvertent probing revealed the weak spots in their usual places, tight against the shore, and over the Beaver lodge's underwater entranceway.
So we finished up at Gerry's cabin, drying off in front of a roaring fire in his woodstove and drinking cup after cup of the tea our host offered us.
Jan. 7, 2012: Part 1. The life of the Beaver  Many, many times former member Katherine Kitching has crossed the Pakenham beaver dam with a pack on her back, carried it up the last, long hill on the trail, and made her camp on the shore of our favourite beaver pond. She has been known to sit up all night, wrapped in her sleeping bag, in her determination to see activity there in the moonlight. Years later, while working for Ontario's provincial parks, she combined her experiences with considerable research to create a fascinating public-education program. Today she entertained and intrigued us with an abbreviated version.
For our older members who are starting to think about summer jobs, Katherine also recounted her experiences as a park naturalist at Algonquin and Murphy's Point. She pointed out that parks differ not only in their natural environments, but in the character of their programming, so that it would be wise to know what you want. She explained, too, that there are trade-offs between the amount of outdoor time and the pay. And, she concluded, it was wonderful to work in a place where she could go canoeing every evening.
Dec. 17, 2011: A return to the Study Area
Today we launched a new study-area-wide project, the mapping (by GPS) of American Beech trees. This one is no. 6. It is unique for its low, wide-spreading branches. Almost all our other Beech trees have long, branchless trunks with — so far — smooth, grey bark. We anticipate the destruction of most of these trees by beech-bark scale disease, which is already on the doorstep of Ottawa.
We checked on our individual Study-Trees, too — the oaks and maples and baby spruces.
Winter's cold had arrived, but not the thick blanket of snow that makes for winter in a ecological sense here.
Dec. 10, 2011: Introduction to fishing  Macouners had a lively session identifying all the fish of Ontario, species by species, in a slide show David Chong had prepared for us. Usually somebody in the group knew the names, but sometimes even our most avid fishermen were stumped. David encouraged us to chip in with anything we already knew about, while introducing us to his great passion, which means figuring out where these fish naturally live and inducing them to take the bait he offers. He takes part in fishing tournaments which are, he explained, 98% catch-and-release events. But there's more involved, as he has to bring his fish in for measurement alive and healthy. Points are deducted if a fish has died.
David also went over the main introduced species disturbing Ontario waters, ranging from sea lampreys to round gobies
Dec. 3, 2011: The Beaver: where would it come up next?  In a lull in the rural deer-hunting season, we slipped into the Pakenham Hills for a few hours, making our lunch fires in a new place by the shore of Indian Creek. A beaver had built a new lodge up against the far shore — and was still plastering it against the winter cold and predators, judging by the muddy trackways up to the peak of the dome. It had also assembled a big submerged food pile out front. But it was a rather static scene, and we went about gathering wood and sharpening roasting sticks, and fussing over our food without paying much attention.
 Those who finished eating early carefully probed the capacity of the inch-thick ice at the water's edge, and with wet feet sent the resulting pieces skittering across the skin of new ice reaching across the whole creek, which made weirdly ringing chattering sounds. Eventually the beaver came out to see what was going on, alternately exposing itself to view and then withdrawing underwater. Where would it come up again next?
 Nov. 26, 2011: Would you hesitate to grab this insect?
It looks like a wasp, but is it? Tom Sherratt led us, step by step, to consider how to approach the problem. Sure, the creature is black-and-yellow, but if you count, it's got only two wings, not four. And is the waist really narrow enough for it to be a wasp? Most conclusively, the head bears the stubby little antennae of a hover fly, not the long black antennae of a stinging insect.
But that's not the end of the story — notice the left front leg, which differs from the others in being black, instead of yellow. When this fly wants to look like a wasp, it holds its two front legs out in front of its face, and may even wave them about the way a wasp does with its antennae. And Prof. Sherratt explained the elegantly simple experiments he does to determine which features best deter a potential predator. It turns out that after the misleading colours, it's the fake antennae.
Nov 19, 2011: A return to the Study Area
Taking advantage of this year's unusual dryness, we went right back to the swamp with the ant mounds for a closer look at the ants and their environment. Though we dug right to the core of several ash-swamp mounds, we couldn't find any ants, but moving into the adjacent cedar swamp, we not only found ants, but workers tending ant larvae and root-aphids. The difference may have to do with moisture. Digging, we found water one foot (30 cm) below the ground surface in the ash swamp, whereas it was just a few inches down under the conifers. When mounds become too dry, perhaps the ants move downward.
We were also interested in what lay below the water-logged surface. Our shovel revealed peat to depths of two and three feet; we did not hit bottom in the cedar swamp. Though the mossy swamp floor was dry enough for walking, our holes rapidly filled with water.
The moss was so thick and soft and inviting, one member settled into a cozy nook beneath some upheaved roots — on the very doorstep of a porcupine den.
 Nov. 12, 2011: The biological richness of the tropics
Herpetologist David Seburn and his family visited Cuba last winter, and with their varied interests they gave their attention to the wide variety of animal life on the largest island in the Caribbean. There were birds — some familiar to us here in Ontario, and some endemic to the island — and mammals, not all of which have survived several centuries of European colonization, being known only from bones. But Dave's keenest interest shone forth when he got to the reptiles and amphibians. Cuba has frogs and snakes and turtles and lizards, but no salamanders. Why not? Since so many species are found nowhere else in the world but Cuba, Dave led a running discussion on endemism and how animals might originally get to an island, and once there, not get off again.
Nov 5, 2011: Weird things in our woods
Macoun members hosted a special ONFC trip into our Study Area, explaining to our guests the natural features we have come to know so well — the 500-million-year-old ripple marks in an exposure of Nepean sandstone; glacial chattermarks only 20,000 years old in the same rock; and domed ant mounds in the swamp, perhaps only a decade old.
  We revisited out Study Trees and explained how the various distortions of growth had come about, through disease, injury, and lack of light under a dense canopy. We hauled a weird-looking mushroom out of a deep recess in someone's fallen oak and, once we had it in hand, it was identifiable as the Shellac Mushroom (also known as Ling Chi). It is said to possess all kinds of medicinal properties.
Oct. 29, 2011: The oldest study-tree ever
 For more than a thousand years a remarkable Ponderosa Pine flourished near Mesa Verde, at the 'four corners' of the United States. In 1903 it was cut down for lumber, but on striking the ground the massive trunk shattered, and the disgusted loggers walked away, leaving it to rot.
The tree had been a favourite of Colarado resident Enos Mills, and having, as he said, deciphered the autobiographies of many a century-old tree, Mills set to work with axe and saw, unveiling the hidden record of its life the huge tree had made by laying down a thin new layer of wood over its trunk, its branches, and its roots every year. From the 1047 annual rings at the base, he determined that the tree had begun growing in the year 856. There had been rich years, when the annual deposit of new wood was thick, and terribly hard years when the rings were almost microscopic. Old wounds, mostly healed over long centuries before, spoke of penetrating injuries from other trees toppling into it, of snow loads so heavyÊthey snapped off limbs a foot thick, of earthquakes that had cracked the trunk itself. The most violent of these quakes had loosed a barrage of rocks off the neighbouring cliff: Mills discovered a five-pound rock embedded in the wood.
Man had left his mark, too, at first only lightly. Mill's saw struck flint arrowheads that flew from bows drawn in the year 1486, and his dissection revealed that the first Spaniards to explore the region had hacked at the tree with steel axes. Men built fires against the base of the tree, and used it for target practice. Lastly, of course, they chopped it down — Mills had watched them do it.
Mills wrote a little book about this amazing tree, which is still remembered: The Story of a Thousand Year Pine. Rob read it out loud to the group today, and then we thought about our own study-trees, whose own stories we see unfolding from month to month and year to year.
Oct. 22, 2011: The sun comes out!Rain, of which there has been so much recently, had finished not long before we arrived in the Pakenham Hills, and in the course of the next several hours the gloomy gray skies gave way to sunshine and warmth. We pushed hard to make it all the way to the Upper Pond, slowed down only slightly by lunch in the woods and the opportunity to discuss waterfowl with our old friends, the duck hunters. They'd shot a young Ring-Necked Duck, an adult Black Duck, and a Canada Goose.
The beaver dam was less difficult than usual to cross, as water levels were still low following a rather dry summer, but the stream coming down the hill was flowing easily; we all cupped our hands and drank from the little waterfall. Up on top of the hill, the pond we worked so hard to reach was clean and clear of summer growth, and beautiful in the sunshine.
Oct. 15, 2011: Research in James Bay> One of our favourite speakers, Roy John of the OFNC, told us about his participation in an international study on a shorebird whose population is in serious decline: the Red Knot. These birds are one of the world's great travelers, nesting in arctic Canada and wintering in southern Argentina. Overfishing of a food supply species (horseshoe crabs -- the birds plump up on the billions of crab eggs) in Chesapeake Bay is blamed for a 70% drop in numbers. The Knots are tagged with numbers readable at a distance, so that individuals can be tracked from one end of the hemisphere to the other.
Oct. 1, 2011: The autumn woods on a chilly dayOn a chilly, gray day — dry, at least, in the midst of a rainy week — we crossed the entire Study Area to visit our old Study Trees and select some new ones. One of the new trees was chosen because it had "a weird thing" growing in a shady recess; another because an expanded canker wound "looked like an open mouth." During lunch, we found a small Eastern Gray Tree Frog on the ground. It readily climbed a tree for us, exposing the normally hidden orangey parts of the hind legs (which we have on other occasions seen flashed at avian predators).
We also visited a grove of wild apple trees — all that is left of a pioneer orchard — and found another visitor already up in one of the trees — a Porcupine.
Sept. 24, 2011: Horned Larks of the high places  Some birds are fully adapted to cold alpine regions, but Horned Larks are little birds that nest in open places all over North America. Alaine Camfield spent six years studying one population up above the BC treeline, trying to understand how and why some of them live in such a forbidding environment. On a summer day the temperature can rise from below freezing to above 30 degrees C, and July snowstorms can deprive growing lark families of insect food; parents sometimes have to choose which of their offspring to raise, and which to let die.
It turned out that, in spite of the difficulties, Alaine's hundred alpine birds were raising more young on average than a sister population being studied in Oregon. Her BC birds formed a stable population, while the lowland birds in Oregon were gradually dying out. Although her alpine site was not entirely safe from destructive human actions, the home ground of the other population was subject to a barrage of detrimental activities that ranged from ATVs to suburban development.
Sept. 17, 2011: Pakenham fossils and (wild) foods  It has been dry this summer, and the resulting low water levels opened much of the limestone flats at Pakenham village's Five Arches Bridge Park to our examination. We found fossils embedded in the limestone and used an artist's reconstruction of Ordovician life to turn the puzzling fragments and outlines in the rock into a mental picture of a living sea-world. There were corals, coral-like bryozoans, crinoid rings, and the long, straight shells of predatory nautiloids.
 From there we moved a few miles to the Pakenham Hills for lunch. The granite hilltops were carpeted with moss and lichens, and there we found Red-Backed Salamanders and Russula mushrooms. Where soil had accumulated on the slopes were mixed forests and in a clearing we used a digging stick to uproot a handful of Hog Peanut tubers for an experimental meal at home. And in trickle of water in the valley bottom, we caught crayfish and frogs.
Sept. 10, 2011: First meeting of the year We heard a summer's worth of nature observations from our many excited observers -- a bear outside the tent, a Moose by the highway, a Cecropia Moth caterpillar on the street. Duncan had fed pieces of apple to a Snapping Turtle. Morgan reported a slender, completely white forest plant -- Indian Pipe. We passed around last June's Little Bear magazine and suggested some of these observations would make great little articles.
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Indoor meetings are about an hour long every second Saturday morning. Field trips take place on the Saturdays in between. They typically start in mid-morning and end in mid-afternoon -- families must call in to learn the details. These activities take place on alternating Saturdays. You can