While at Interstate State Park, we witnessed a dramatic rescue of a gosling, swimming through the rapids of the St. Croix River. We were taking photos of the river when we started to hear agitated honking by what sounded like a flock of goslings. The water was pretty choppy, and we had trouble spotting them at first.
High water on the St. Croix (Y. Fernandez)
Eventually, we saw two adult geese, on a shallow ledge just upstream of a fenced-off boat ramp at the water’s edge. There seemed to be one gosling with them, looking exhausted. But where was the noise from the other birds coming from?
You can see the geese behind the fence. (Y. Fernandez)
It turns out that the other birds were on the downstream side of the fence, paddling together in in an eddy. It looks like what happened is one of the goslings got separated from the rest, and the parents went to fetch it while the other babies stayed put. They were making a lot of noise, so clearly they weren’t happy with the situation.
The parents collect the straggler (Y. Fernandez)
After the lone gosling was collected, the parents launched into the choppy water, and the other goslings swam out to meet them. They formed a tight flotilla as they were buffeted downstream by the waves. Rescue complete!
Stay close together! (Y. Fernandez)
Be well, geese, and may you find calmer waters downstream.
I know it’s a cliche to say “It seemed bigger when I was younger,” but I’ll say it anyway in this post. One of the places we visited on our recent trip to the Great Lakes was Interstate State Park, on the St. Croix River between Minnesota and Wisconsin near the town of Taylors Falls. We actually visited the MN park– there’s also a park on the WI side.
St. Croix River at Interstate State Park (Y. Fernandez)
This park was a pretty memorable spot that we visited frequently when we were younger, and it’s still pretty interesting. In this area, the St. Croix River form a deep gorge through a layer of basalt- very old basalt. The rock here was laid down during a continental rifting event around 1.1 billion years ago. Later, sandstone and siltstone were laid down by a shallow sea during the Cambrian. Much, much later, glacial meltwater during the last Ice Age carved the St. Croix River valley.
Cliffs along the St. Croix (Y. Fernandez)
While the most obvious geological feature here is the cliffs, with their irregularly-fractured angles, there are a bunch of other features. An informational kiosk at the parking lot has a map of features like glacial potholes. These formed when rocks were caught in whirlpools and eddies in the river, and eventually scoured out vertical shafts in the rocks. Some of these pothiles were big enough to walk into:
Looking up from the interior of a pothole- the hole is about a meter across.
Others were smaller in size. This one reminded me of a lava tree mold:
This pothole was in a boggy area, probably with more potholes concealed underneath (Y. Fernandez)
This is an interesting place to stop if you’re interested in geology. There were also a lot of birds. A stiff breeze when we were there meant that the paddleboat tours were closed down for the day. It would be fun to go back at some point and canoe down the river- though not during the spring thaw season…
On our recent Great Lakes trip, we didn’t stop to see quirky roadside attractions like the SPAM Museum or the world’s largest ball of twine. But we did get to see a few other random giant objects of cultural significance…
First was the giant frosty mug of root beer at a drive-in diner in Taylors Falls, MN. While not as large as the others, it rotated!
Thirsty?
While we were disappointed that it was in front of a “Drive-In”, not a “Drive-Inn” (Hawaii folks will get the reference), they did have good root beer.
Second is from Lindstrom, MN, a town that’s obviously proud of its Swedish roots. Their water tower is decorated like a coffeepot:
"Valcommen till Lindstrom."
Finally, this inexplicable monster pileated woodpecker in downtown Toronto near the CN Tower:
On our recent Great Lakes trip, we started off with a visit to western Wisconsin. When my sister & I were young, our grandparents bought a vacation house on a lake in a small town there, and we used to go up there for family weekends in the summers. When my grandparents passed away, my aunts took over the house, and they and my cousins (and their kids) still spend a lot of time there.
I hadn’t been back to the lake house for several years, and Yan had never seen it. So this was a good opportunity to visit with relatives and reminisce to Yan about summers at the lake.
The backyard is still pretty steep, but for some reason the hill seems much less scary now...
So, two incidents from childhood that came back to me at the lake both involved invertebrates behaving badly… at least from our perspective at the time.
First, the lake is fairly tannin-rich, meaning the water’s not super clear. One day (I must have been six or seven) I was wading in the shallow part of the lake, in the shade. When I got out of the water, there was a huge black leech stuck to my shin! I’m sure I freaked out a bit, and then some adult pulled the leech off. Of course, then blood started to trickle down my leg from the leech bite. So I fainted. (This is a family trait, mind you.) After coming to, I got a lot of teasing from my relatives.
The second incident happened to my sister, probably a different summer. She was playing in the backyard with my cousins, and I was sitting on the deck, probably reading. I remember all of a sudden hearing her scream, and seeing her running across the backyard hitting herself on the side of the face. Apparently, a wasp had gotten under her hair and was stinging her on the ear, repeatedly. After the wasp had been squished, and she was calming down on the porch with an ice cube on her earlobe, my other memory of that incident was my aunts and uncles joking that now they just needed to find a wasp for the other ear and she could put in earrings right then and there. This event must have traumatized her, because it took her until high school to actually get her ears pierced.
Okay, so these certainly aren’t the most traumatic childhood stories, but they were dramatic at the time.
Looks peaceful, except for the nasty leeches lurking under the water's calm surface.
One of the exciting events of the weekend was taking the pontoon over to town and going to Dairy Queen. Hey, it’s small-town Wisconsin, and this is good wholesome entertainment.
The DQ was just up the road from the park. (Photo: Y Fernandez)
The pontoon was exactly as I remember it- which is a bit scary, considering it had been over a decade since I had been on it last. But its structural integrity held for the entire trip.
There are a lot of new, big houses on the lake, which was a bit strange to see. It’s nice that the family house is in an area that hasn’t been developed this much and is still pretty green.
Aunt Barb and some serious construction. (Photo: Y Fernandez)
So, a good visit, and a good start to our vacation.
OK, the title of this post is somewhat misleading. But ‘Wisconsin wildflowers’ alliterates better than ‘Wisconsin Plantae’…
On our recent trip to the general Great Lakes region- I’ve been trying to think of what to call it: ‘Upper Midwest’ doesn’t fit, since it was partly in Canada, and we did actually visit two Great Lakes- we spent a day or so in western Wisconsin. We got there just at the tail end of the spring wildflower season, but unfortunately the mosquito season was well-underway. At any rate, here are some photos we took along the way.
Great white trilliums. Their petals turn pink before they wilt away:
Another trillium, with some wood violets:
A stand of interrupted fern- the brown patches in the middle of the fronds are actually fertile segments carrying spore cases:
Common dandelions added a splash of yellow to the scenery:
Finally, an interesting contrast between some field pussytoes and new eastern white pine cones:
We made a moderately unplanned visit yesterday to the Bell Library at the University of Minnesota, which specializes in books, manuscripts, and maps before 1800. They have an extensive map collection, focusing on travel and trade- so a lot of maps from the “age of exploration.” Since we didn’t plan this trip ahead (it was a spontaneous suggestion of my Dad’s), we didn’t have any serious research in mind…
At any rate, they have quite a few old astronomy texts, as well as other natural history types of things. For me, the fun part was being able to read a 1st American edition of Origin of Species, printed in New York in 1860! (The larger library of which the Bell collection is a part has “newer” works like this one.)
Title page of the NY edition.
Since I’ve been reading this book in recent months for my metaphor project, it was pretty cool to see it in its original form. I got to play with the fold-out map, which was actually located on a different page than in the 1859 London edition. I’m not sure of the reason for that. Also, I feel there just aren’t enough fold-out maps in books nowadays- especially science books!
I had fun paging through the text and looking for various passages. It was especially cool to read the final “tangled bank” paragraph, which is quite poetic.
No, I did not take any photos of me reading it! Although I could have. I just never think of these things in time…
I’ve just realized that we have a travel style that can probably be described as eclectic. Or maybe simply geeky in a sciencey way, with a twist of highbrow culture and finding good vegetarian food.
We’ve visited the La Brea Tar Pits (fossils), Vasquez Rocks (no Gorns, but lots of White-Headed Sparrows), Westminster Abbey (dead scientists, and a few kings & queens too), and the ancient tombs at Gamla Uppsala (dead Vikings).
Vasquez Rocks.
We’ve hunted for mud volcanoes near the Salton Sea (and failed), endangered Palilas on Mauna Kea (and succeeded), and the tomb of Anders Celsius in Uppsala (actually, we came across this one quite unexpectedly).
One of the Salton Buttes, a lava dome generally near the mud volcanoes. (Y. Fernandez)
Meridian (and gnomon) in the Basilica de Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri. (Y. Fernandez)
This summer, we’ll be doing a random tour of the Western Great Lakes region, with possible stops at Effigy Mounds National Monument, the Bell Museum of Natural History, Taliesin, Science Museum of MN, Field Museum, Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, and Royal Ontario Museum. We’ve sadly concluded that visits to the World’s Largest Ball of Twine and Spam Museum are probably too out of the way, as is the nesting area of the Kirtland’s Warbler. Still undecided on The House on the Rock.
We’re especially looking forward to the ROM, because it’s the place we ordered the “Primeval Predators” toys that became our wedding cake toppers.
Wiwaxia corrugata and Laggania cambria on vegan green tea and adzuki bean cake. (B. Martin)
Any suggestions for other interesting/geeky sights to see in the general areas of southeast MN, south WI, north IL, and Toronto?
The last spot we visited on Maui was the ʻĀhihi-Kīnaʻu Natural Area Reserve. This protected area is located pretty close to the extreme southern point of Haleakalā. It encompasses a slice of land from the uplands down to the coast, and then into shoreline waters. This combination of land and water makes it unique among protected areas in Hawai’i.
ʻĀhihi-Kīnaʻu NAR is located on the southwest rift zone of Haleakalā, which is still an active (though dormant) volcano. In fact, the most recent eruption of Haleakalā flowed through this area, a few hundred years ago (radiocarbon dating suggests this flow is probably older than a traditionally-thought 1790 date). A very young vent, Kalua o Lapa, is a prominent feature upslope from the shoreline, where the hiking trail is located.
Youngest lava flow on Maui.
While ʻĀhihi-Kīnaʻu NAR is largely covered by young lava, there are numerous cultural sites, including, walls, temples, and former garden plots; also, threatened and endangered native dryland plants. This dry and rugged land was inhabited- people once fished and farmed in this area. It’s strikingly similar to the west coast of Hawai’i Island in topography, geology, and general setting.
There is a small blowhole at the edge of this bay- we didn't get a good photo of it, though.
It’s the aquatic resources of ʻĀhihi-Kīnaʻu NAR that are most known- coral reefs, surf spots, and anchialine ponds. Sea turtles, dolphins, and monk seals frequent the area, and the offshore waters are part of the Humpback Whale Reserve. However, these coastal sites are so well known that they’re currently closed to visitors. If there are any natural areas that are being “loved to death,” ʻĀhihi-Kīnaʻu’s reefs and pools are definitely among them. Currently, you can visit two areas of the reserve: a swimming/surfing area at the entrance to the reserve, and a short trail that goes past a number of cultural sites to La Perouse bay. This is the trail that we took.
Map from HI DLNR.
The trail hugs the coast, crossing both rugged ‘a’a and smooth pahoehoe lava flows. As you walk along the coast, there are a few tiny pockets of tan coral sand- the rest of the shoreline area is rocky cliffs, boulder-strewn beaches, and one larger sandy beach with a mix of black and tan sand. While we were there, clouds were rolling in, part of the rain system that had been raking the islands all weekend. We walked past several crumbling rock walls and other structures (evidence of the need to better protect the historical sites of the area).
Kaho'olawe, with clouds rolling in.
We went on the trail as far as a cobble-covered beach, passing through a kiawe forest full of noisy Gray Francolins and sharp-horned feral goats (the latter a bane of existence for the remaining native vegetation). A tour group on horseback passed us, coming back; they were turned back by a huge fallen tree in the road that we had to scramble under.
Fresh black basalt cobbles predominated at the beach, but there were also large chunks of wave-rounded coral, hinting at the productive reef that lay just out of sight. Upslope, we saw Haleakalā disappearing into the encircling clouds; out towards the sea, waves crashed onto shore.
I’d love to come back here some day and spend more time in the area. It reminded me strongly of the Kona Coast. While access to the most critical natural resources is limited, there are still other hiking trails that appear to be open, which we didn’t have time to explore. Definitely a place to come back to, at some point.
Back to Maui, and our December trip to Hawaii (wow-that long ago?) The West Maui mountains are older than Haleakalā, and consequently more eroded. Hawaiian volcanoes tend to reach their largest extent as massive dome-shaped mountains that have a somewhat symmetrical appearance (as Mauna Loa looks today). Once the eruption rate of the volcano slows down, erosion starts to work: rainfall creates streams, and eventually these streams create deep valleys. This is the stage the West Maui volcano is in.
ʻĪao Valley is a picturesque spot deep within the West Maui mountains. It’s a popular tourist attraction, but also has historical significance. The highlight, for most people, is probably ʻĪao Needle, a rock formation at the end of an eroded ridge.
'Iao Needle
ʻĪao Valley contained important agricultural agricultural and religious sites for Native Hawaiians. ʻĪao Stream watered many kalo lo’i (taro fields) and supported a large population. ʻĪao Needle itself was a sacred site, as it represented the phallus of Kanaloa, the god of the sea and the underworld. It does seem like a reasonable association.
Another view of the valley.
Hawaiian culture is frequently presented as lu’aus, surfing, and beautiful women dancing, and other historical cultural elements are frequently glossed over. ʻĪao Valley, for example, was the site of a huge battle in 1790, between the invading forces of Kamehameha (who would go on to conquer all the Hawaiian Islands) and the defending Maui chief Kalanikūpule. So many were killed that the stream was dammed up by bodies, and the remaining water ran red with blood.
Today, ʻĪao Valley contains a state park, and the stream is only likely to be dammed by a wall of tourists. Aside from Kanaloa’s phallus (which is, appropriately, the most prominent sight), there is now a botanical garden with many ethnobotanical specimens, as well historical markers about the Native Hawaiians and later immigrant groups.
Perhaps it’s a bit of a comedown for the valley to go from a sacred site and royal burial area to a well-groomed historical park. But that diminishing of magnitude (both sacred grandeur and terrible deeds) is something that we see in many places in Hawaii.
It’s been a while, but I thought I’d revive my posts on our (not-so) recent trip to Maui. While we were there, there was a lot of rain. This wasn’t so noticeable when we were on Haleakala (except for interfering with the view), but we had a lot of drizzle, showers, and then downpours for a day or so. Luckily it cleared up the last day we were there for more birding! But more on that later.
After we finished our most excellent Waikamoi hike, it was early afternoon. We headed back down the mountain through fog, having a few close encounters with cows along the way. Part of the road up to the summit is open pasture, and in the fog with hairpin turns, it’s pretty creepy to suddenly see a cow looming on the shoulder, stupidly chewing its cud and gazing at your car with an unfazed expression.
It was pretty rainy and overcast, and we didn’t feel like finding another place to hike in the rain (the beach was out, too), so we decided to drive down the Kula road a bit and check out the scenery. This is mainly an agricultural area, with a fine view downslope to the sea. We stopped at a wayside memorial park dedicated to Sun Yat-sen, the Chinese revolutionary.
Dr. Sun Yat-sen, in bronze.
Why a park on Maui dedicated to one of the men behind the overthrow of the Qing Dynasty? Well, it turns out that he attended school in the Kingdom of Hawaii, back in the late 1800s (`Iolani School and Oahu College-now known as Punahou). There are a number of statues of him on other islands.
These lion statues were really cool, until we realized they were made of hollow fiberglass...
At one point, he was issued a (false, for he was born in China) birth certificate from the then-Territory of Hawaii stating that he was born in Kula. Hence the Kula connection, and Sun Yat-sen Memorial Park along the Kula Highway.
Lion detail.
Sun Yat-sen is apparently one of the few Chinese revolutionary figures revered in both the People’s Republic and in Taiwan. His time in Hawaii was also a time of revolution: he attended school here during the reign of King Kalakaua, the second-to-last monarch of the Kingdom of Hawaii. By the time he returned to Hawaii, the Kingdom had been overthrown by a cabal of American businessmen, and political power rested in the short-lived “Republic of Hawaii.” While he was here the second time, the Hawaiian islands were formally annexed to the United States as a Territory.
Agave plants in the garden, known locally as "dragon's tail" or "lion's tail."
For Hawaii, as well as much of the Pacific, those years were a time of change and turmoil. This period of time is something that’s definitely hidden when Hawaii is presented as just an entity subsumed into the U.S., and the formation of the contemporary political situation in the Pacific is taken as something of a forgone conclusion. For example, there’s not a lot of effort in public schools in Hawaii to tie the local events of those years to the turmoil in China and other parts of the Pacific, except as they relate to the U.S. snapping up territories that the European empires were losing control of, like the Philippines. Definitely an eventful time in the Pacific, and though Sun Yat-sen didn’t play a huge role in the contemporary political scene, he’s a formidable player in the larger picture.
