Sligo Naturalist

Jennifer Chambers was sick of seeing trash.  She was teaching an environmental course at Northwood High School, and each time she walked in the woods behind the school she'd see it all - discarded appliances, bottles, cans, furniture, car parts, engines and more.  She knew that the woods bordered an important vernal pool area in the Northwest Branch watershed. 
She was concerned about what she saw and what the terrible conditions might mean for both the Anacostia River and the Chesapeake Bay, since water from the site flows into those watersheds.

"I got frustrated seeing all the dumped material on the land," she said.

Inquiries into the management of the property surprised her.  She thought that the 15 or so acres were owned and managed by the Maryland National Capital Parks and Planning Commission, but a bit of investigation into land records revealed that the real owner was the Maryland State Highway Administration (SHA).  SHA had acquired the land more than 50 years ago for the purpose of building a road which never materialized. 

by Alison Gillespie

I was waiting for some friends to meet me at the head of a trail in Wheaton early this spring when I spotted what looked like a stray, light-colored german shepherd.  Its long nose and downward pointing tale made me stop short.  Was that a coyote?  Before I could get a closer look to see if there was a collar around its neck or any other signs of domestication, the animal headed off into the deep woods and my friends arrived.  We began our hike in the other direction and I was left to wonder what I had just witnessed.

A short time later I put out a journalist's all call on several listservs around town:  had anyone else seen a coyote lately? Where and when, and would they be willing to talk about it with me?

by Alison Gillespie

Standing in the park near the big wooden pirate ship, I watched as a little girl and her father were both running away from two large, noisy bees.  As the girl screamed, the father tried to retain as much of his dignity as possible.  "Let's just play over here where the big old bees won't bother us," he said, brushing mulch off his shirt and hurriedly running away. 

The dad seemed a tad embarrassed and so I pretended not to notice, although a part of me wanted to say something friendly.  When it happened a second time with another parent and child, I couldn't help myself. 

"They're just carpenter bees," I called out from the bench with a smile.  "They like the wood, they won't sting you."

The mom in question this time stopped and looked at me blankly. 

"Really," I continued on.  "When my dad was a kid he even used to catch them and tie a piece of thread to one of their legs and walk them like a dog, or a kite," I offered to ease her anxiety.  "He liked to show off to the other kids that way.  He never got stung, though." 

I was all caught up in my own story, imagining my dad as a young kid growing up during many decades ago in North Carolina, when I realized suddenly that I had shared too much.  Now this woman thought I was weird, and she still didn't like the bees.(This happens sometimes when you like insects.  Facts you find fascinating really make you seem quite eccentric by many bug-hater standards.  I'd like to say I've gotten used to it, but I still find myself in these situations quite a bit.  The more learn about insects, the more often this happens.) 

You'll come out muddy and invigorated

I was at a professional meeting this winter when someone asked this very interesting question:  If you had one chance to show someone what you treasure about the Chesapeake watershed, where would you take them? 

Here was my answer:

I'd take my kids out on a warm evening in early April, when the woods come alive with panoramic activity.   Get your boots, kids.  Tonight we will go exploring.

Amphibian spring

Things are slowly emerging from the snow and like urban archeologists we see some of our missing stuff out in the sooty, icy drifts, where things became immobilized several weeks ago by the twin blizzards.  (Oh, so that's where the other snow shovel went.  And hey, I was wondering where the purple sled had gone.  I think that shiny thing is an earring... we'll just have to wait until it melts a bit more to get it out...maybe this ice pick from the kitchen will help to dislodge it...) 

When I walk the dog, I mostly find litter, smashed into the frozen banks where it blew during the high windstorms.  Loads of beer cans and beer bottles, fast food wrappers, dozens and dozens of plastic bags - I pick them all up while I walk the dog and arrive home with a sack full of trashy storm souvenirs.

One night I looked out before going to bed and saw a bright red, disposable plastic cup on the sidewalk.  By the time I got out there in the morning to pick it up, some one had used it to carve a smiley face completely of circles in the grimy, grey snow bank by the curb.  Wise guy.

It was late when I came out of the meeting that night.  I was tired and ready for sleep and I quickly made my way from the cold into the front seat of my car but, as I took off slowly down East-West Highway, I came upon a sight that made me suddenly sit bolt upright and hit the brakes.  There, crawling and wiggling its way up out of the storm drain was a huge raccoon.  Its yellow eyes became glowing orbs as they flatly reflected my headlights. 

The animal stopped only for a moment, and then seemed to signal someone or something out of my sight range. 

 During the month of December, tree lovers all over Montgomery County were angered to discover a somewhat sneaky budget cut had been pushed through very quietly right around Thanksgiving.  The county's street tree planting program had its entire planting budget zeroed, removed, AXED. 

The county's Department of Transportation (DOT) street tree office oversees this important tree program.  Essentially, it works like this:  when trees along the right-of-ways or ROWs in the county have to be cut down due to disease or damage, the DOT replaces them.  Residents can also request a tree for the ROW in front of their home and, if the ROW can safely have one, the office will plant one for free using trees which are grown in municipal nurseries.

County residents can't legally plant anything higher than 18 inches in these spaces on their own, but the DOT can plant larger things there, and can do so in a way that is safe and will avoid future conflicts with wires, etc.  Their skilled and highly trained arborists oversee both the removal of declining trees and the replanting of new ones.  And sadly, many of the oldest trees in the county's ROWs are dying and will need to be replaced at a rapid rate if we are to maintain any kind of street tree canopy in the future.