Chasing Nature

Here in New England, we’re into the “Season of Maximum Flight.” That’s what I call the period from late June into early July, when lots of birds feed fledglings and charismatic insects fly in abundance. I’ve been in the thick of it. Which is why this solstice letter to paying subscribers is coming to you a bit late.

Dogbane Leaf Beetle / © Bryan Pfeiffer In a culture drawn to sex and shiny objects, it would seem hard to overlook the Dogbane Leaf Beetle. Along with its rainbow glow, this beetle is promiscuous, polyamorous, and poisonous. It’s a heck of a lifestyle. Which is why the Dogbane Leaf Beetle came to mind after I noticed a four-part series now running in The New York Times Lifestyle section titled “The Touch Grass Challenge.” Its shocking conclusion: we spend too much time on our phones.

A woodland spruce bog in northern Vermont / © Bryan Pfeiffer If you’re a field biologist heading to a bog, your first concern isn’t usually a hot-pink flower. Not that the flower doesn’t matter. It does. But first, you must get to the bog without getting yourself lost. That’s because trails to bogs are rare — at least to most bogs I’ve visited over the past four decades. In the days before GPS, I would bushwhack to bogs with a map and compass.

The Droplet (<1mm across) on an Eastern Dwarf Mistletoe shoot © Bryan Pfeiffer Given the world’s troubles, I recognize that a droplet at the tip of a bizarre flower isn’t exactly breaking news. And yet you, dear readers, are among the few people ever to see this droplet, which is the sugary secretion of a parasitic plant called Eastern Dwarf Mistletoe. That’s because, as best I can determine, I’m the first person to photograph this phenomenon in the wild and publish its image.

Palm Warbler in winter (near actual palms) / © Bryan Pfeiffer One day during the 18th century, on the Caribbean island of Hispaniola, a songbird with the quirky habit of wagging its tail was killed, probably by fine-grain birdshot, and collected in the name of science.

New leaves of Sugar Maple / © Bryan Pfeiffer Yet again the conventional wisdom is wrong. Spring isn’t green; it’s countless shades of red. Carmine tints emerging leaves. Ruby dyes early flowers. And scarlet conveys songbird desire. The green of spring comes soon enough. But if you seek beauty and drama in nature, even perspective on the best and worst of human nature, you’re seeing red. Among the great apes known as humans, red is a primary color and a social construct.

American Robin / © Terry J. Allen Prologue: My friend Terry Allen died a week ago at her home here in Vermont. She was 78. An artist, journalist, photographer, and rebel, Terry had an enduring sense of beauty, curiosity, and justice.

Here’s a poem I read last Friday at one of the many Poem City events this month in my home city of Montpelier, Vermont. As if April weren’t wonderful enough, Montpelier’s storefront windows are now postered with poetry and our venues are alive with poets reading their work. Let’s define power, wealth, success, and fame not by the abuses and exploits of humans, but by the rhythms and harmonies of nature. We measure power by our capacity for wonder.

Rice’s Whale / Credit: NOAA Fisheries A whale defies intuition. It is vast yet ethereal, slow yet powerful, eerie yet enchanting. A whale is a sublime dream come true. Sleek and elegant, metallic gray with a pinkish belly, the Rice’s Whale is one of the most endangered whales on Earth. But unlike any dream, this whale could soon become an unwitting test case of morality, extinction, and political power in America.

Inside this chamber: flowers, fakery, heat, drama / © Bryan Pfeiffer PICK your favorite sign of spring: birdsong, baseball, amphibian sex, seed catalogues. Mine is the first plant in flower, which turns out to be an American hoax. Your own inaugural bloom depends of course on where you live and where you search.