A game of chance

Summer 2010 ~

As a whole, nature is a skilled architect, using an endless variety of elements and conditions to build forests which are both structurally sound and aesthetically beautiful. But for any animal or plant that lives there, the woods are little more than a game of chance.

Young pine saplings—those fortunate enough to have their seeds cast into a clearing by the forces of gravity and wind—must be aggressive in setting their roots and reaching for the sky. After all, competition is fierce, as the forest floor is covered with grass, ivy, burning brush and other broad-leaf shrubbery. These plants, like the sapling, must fight for their share of the moisture below and the sunlight above. Nature will choose only the most robust sprouts—planted perchance in the perfect places—to survive among all the contenders.

Then, even as it grows, the thin-needled spruce must fight with the birch, poplar, ash and elm… each of which are armed with wider leaves, making them able to drink faster those rays that pour down on the forest. The evergreen knows an advantage, too, however; one that will not be apparent until autumn. The change of seasons will send most of the forest into a state of dormancy. Leaves will be shed, grasses will turn brown and lie down… leaving a greater share of sunshine to the conifer, even though the days grow shorter and the nights longer with the approach of winter.

While other trees sleep, the evergreens make their move, which is one of the reasons Jack Pine, Blue Spruce and Douglas-fir trees so dominate many northern forests. Another reason is the sheer efficiency of these knotty pines. Once established, they waste little energy growing limbs at lower levels; little sunlight is to be had there. In a congested forest, they reserve green growth for the highest portion of their canopy, where sunlight is plentiful.

On a walk through the woods, you will see many small, lifeless trees… whose browned needles have withered in the shadow of more successful, mature, majestic trees. And, you will see giant pines whose branches have gone bare or broken. Birds that once used the tree as a nesting place now chop and peck at its trunk for sap, knowing insects will get caught in the sticky syrup and preserved until mealtime. Eventually, though, these injuries become a place for grubs and disease to enter, and the weakened tree can only wait for a strong wind to knock it over, where it can melt into the forest floor.

Again, nature has made her selection. But it is nothing to worry about... as the opening in the woods will be taken by one of a million sprouts, as another game begins.

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© 2010 Mike D. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Putting me in my place

Summer 2010 ~

I stepped outside, onto the deck, to start a fire on the grill. As I lifted the cover, something underneath jumped up—even hitting the side of my hand—and then leapt off the stove to the deck floor, rolled-over the side, onto the ground and down the hill… all before I could even tell what it was. Finally, the little fuzzball came to rest at the top of a small tree stump, glancing back at me to offer what seemed like a dirty look. The little speed demon was a chipmunk. The way he darted so quickly before looking back to sneer at me, it was obvious that he was no less startled than I.

What a gutsy little critter, I thought! Climbing up on the porch and into the grill, licking the grill pan where fat drippings are caught, snooping for something to eat… and then probably dozing-off beneath the vinyl cover of the stove, where he was protected himself from his enemies and the elements. What a courageous vermin!

At first, I thought how daring this little critter was to intrude on my space. But then, looking around at this secluded cabin, in the woods, near the lake… I realized the converse was true. It was I who was the intruder in his place.

© 2010 Mike D. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Making do

Summer 2010 ~

The forest is a great competition, to be sure, but to suggest that only the strong survive would be to over-simplify the situation. As evidence, I offer the mushroom. Content to survive on the ruins of the fallen, mushrooms can survive—indeed, thrive—on little more than rotting leaves and tree limbs, moisture and soil. From this modest diet, they gain adequate strength to push their way clear of the pine cones and needles that concealed them as they sprouted. Very impressive.

And I don’t even like mushrooms.

© 2010 Mike D. Anderson. All rights reserved.