RHYTHMS OF THE NATURAL WORLD

RHYTHMS OF THE NATURAL WORLD December 21, 2020 The Winter Solstice will occur this year right on schedule: on December 21, at 4:02 am. In the past I have written about several subjects related to the solstice (see www.mackssolsticeblogs.blogspor.com for previous blogs). This year I have decided to write about the nature of relationships and connections. As my lifelong friend, Ray Johnson, always says, everything is connected to everything else and the essence of relationships is communication. I believe the universe communicates with planet earth and its people through sign language. For example, to answer the question, which way is North, the cosmos has sent us a message: locate the Big Dipper and you will see the two stars in the bowl, Dubhe and Merak, pointing to Polaris, the North star. The very name, Solstice, communicates a message to us. Sol means sun and Sistere means “to be still.” The universe communicates to us in many different ways. Perhaps the pandemic is nature’s way of telling us to be still; to reassess and reevaluate. Some communications are based on scientific observation, some based on stories and mythologies (There is a woman in Crab Orchard, Tennessee, who predicts the severity of the coming winter by the thickness of the hair on wooly worms). The great communicator in our galaxy is the Sun. It tells us when to go to bed and when to get up. It reliably provides a guide to the seasons so that we know what to expect and what we need to do to prepare for Spring, Summer, Winter, and Fall. We perceive the most obvious messages of the universe, but most of the time we are no longer attuned to what Michael McCarthy called the “intimate feel for the natural calendar.” (https://emergencemagazine.org/story/the-consolation-of-nature) As we have become more urbanized - more than half the world’s population live in urban areas - our sense of being part of the natural order has diminished significantly. Other than knowing that it is hot in the summer and cold in the winter, we have little direct knowledge or experience with nature, made worse by the proliferation of technologies that tie us to electronic screens. Its much easier to watch “Nature” on tv than it is to take a hike. Richard Louv, in his book, Last Child in the Woods, refers to this separation from nature as a “nature-deficient disorder.” I, too, have been struck by the loss of “the intimate feel for the natural calendar.” The question is, how do we become more attuned to the rhythms and processes of nature? It is not easy. It takes some effort. We must be curious, observant, and open to learning and understanding the world around us. Maybe we do not have to go farther than our own back yard. Put up bird feeders. Plant a small garden. Take note of the rhythms of nature. These rhythms can be large like 150,000 Purple Martins taking up residence at the Nashville Opera House, or small like the fledglings wrens in the nest on the window sill. They can be fierce like a Derecho or gentle like a summer breeze on Radnor Lake. The can be repetitive like having to milk cows twice a day, or singular like a boulder rolling down a mountain. They can be devastating like a drought or beneficial like a summer rain. They can be communal and contagious like Covid-19 or uniquely individual like a kidney stone or an aneurysm. The rhythms of nature will pass us by unless we are aware and awake. If you are not familiar with Margaret Renkl and what she has written, I recommend reading her columns in the New York Times. She writes about lots of things but I particularly enjoy her columns about natural things. (see Margaret Renkl, “Hawk, Lizard, Mole. Human” NYT, August 31, 2020). As I am writing I am sitting in my sunroom which has a view of the back yard. There are three bird feeders that allow me to watch the several species coming and going to discover the latest fare I have put out for them. This food I put out for is not their main source of nourishment. They continue to eat worms, insects, and other natural foods in the environment. As such they can be considered to be “hunters and gatherers,” as were our ancestors for about 30,000 years. That is, they eat what is available in their environment; the birds do not plant, sow, or reap, Neither do other wild animals. The squirrels have been scurrying around the yard with walnuts in their mouths hoping to find a place they can stash them that will be easy to remember when the winter is finally here and snow is covering their hiding places. The squirrels reminded me that all wild animals have to prepare for winter. This thought also came to mind when I noticed the large number of walnuts being produced by the walnut tree looming over her deck. All during October and November the walnuts kept falling on our heads, bouncing off the roof all night long, and covering the ground and driveway with green husked nuts. I said to her one day, “Man, the mast is really abundant this year. I wonder if there is also a large mast in the Smokies.” She looked at me and said, “What is the mast, I don’t know that term.” I first learned about “mast” when I started backpacking with friends in the Smokey Mountain National Park in 1980. We would hike half the park, about thirty six miles, twice a year. It was on one of these trips I first heard about mast. On one of our early trips we had to go to a ranger station to pick up our hiking and camping permit. The ranger, who looked a lot like Festus in Gunsmoke, gave us a warning. He said, “Watch out for bears out there. The mast has been sparse this year and the bears are pretty hungry. They will come right into your camp.” Hesitantly I asked, “Mast? What is mast?” He said, “Oh you know, the mast is all the nuts and berries, and fruits the trees and bushes produce each year. The mast is what the animals eat. It sustains all the animals in the forest, but is especially important for the bears. If the female bears don’t get enough nourishment and fat in the summer and fall by stuffing themselves before they hibernate, they won’t be healthy and have as many cubs in the Spring.” He went on to tell us there are two kinds of mast. Soft mast and hard mast. Soft mast includes fruit and berries from Carolina buckthorn, black cherries, pokeweed, blueberries, blackberries, grapes, and persimmons. They gorge themselves on soft mast in early fall before the hard mast, nuts, are falling from the Oak and Hickory trees. They will eat as much as 20,000 calories a day. Ranger Festus told us that the most important hard mast was acorns from Oak trees. He said there was a time when chestnuts were the most important hard mast but they were infected by a fungus (Cryphonectria parasitica) around 1904 and were all gone by 1940. It was a pandemic that eradicated a species of trees. Something to think about. The life cycle of any species is fascinating, but I find the life cycle of the black bear to be especially interesting. Females\ bears mate in May or June. The fertilized egg develops into a blastocyst which does not develop into a fetus until it is implanted in the uterus in November during hibernation. Once implanted, the fetus develops rapidly and one to five cubs – depending on the nature of the mast the previous fall - are born in late January, weighing about eight ounces at birth. By the time mother and cubs emerge from hibernation the cubs have gained seven or eight pounds and are ready to learn the ways of being a bear. Mother bear is a good teacher. The cubs learn all the skills they will need to survive on their own in about a year and a half at which time mother and cubs separate. The young cubs go off on their own, mother bear mates again, and the cycle starts over. We think of the Solstice as the time the light returns. But the Solstice also marks the beginning of the darkest time of the year, winter. Winter is a time of darkness and dormancy. For bears and other wild animals it is a period of hibernation, or deep and extended sleep. Bodily functions are suspended or slowed down for a time. The excess weight and nourishment they added when gorging in the fall makes eating unnecessary. They just sleep during the freezing months. In a sense, what we humans are experiencing during this time of pandemic isolation is akin to hibernation. We are staying home, not eating out or going to movies, not seeing family or friends. And unlike the bears who lose weight during hibernation, I suspect we may be adding a few pounds. There are reports that people are eating and drinking more now. However, I think there may be an upside to this new lifestyle. I am reading more; have returned to knitting, and am baking bread again. I am also using this time to prepare for the coming spring – and spring is coming. I am reading seed catalogs, preparing my flower beds for spring planting, and getting my house in order for warm weather. A period of dormancy may provide a time to prepare for what is to come. Just as the darkness did not come in one fell swoop, the light will not come in one brilliant flash. Things change gradually and at their own pace. Sometimes, all we can do is wait patiently for what is to come. Wu Wei. .