Distinctions with or without differences

Even with the handful of field guides I have, and the resources of the internet at my disposal (God and frontier communications willing), I'm often perplexed by the question of "what am I looking at?" It's not that I can't sort out flowers from grasses from trees and ducks from crows and things like that. It's that, until recently, I had never noticed how many similar, but different, flowers and birds etc. there are. Here's one example using flowers with yellow petals and dark centers.

Helianthus pauciflorus (Stiff Sunflower)?

Photo by J. Harrington

I thought they might be Black-eyed Susans or, possibly, Brown-eyed Susans, but, if you look closely, you can see there's more than one flower per stem. Maybe they're stiff sunflowers? That was my initial choice, but I'm not sure. At least to me they don't look exactly like this field of what I think are Black-eyed Susans that bloom every year at the other end of our road.

Rudbeckia hirta (Black-eyed Susan)?

Photo by J. Harrington

For the past several years, I've been "sure" that these birds are purple finches.

purple finches? at feeder

Photo by J. Harrington

But then this year, someone who seems to have more, or darker, red on his head and breast showed up. House finch? I don't know (sorry about the poor photo).

house finch? (and gold finch) at feeder

Photo by J. Harrington

I vaguely recall Darwin writing about the changes in bills of  Galapogos finches. I can understand those functional differences but wonder how males and females sort out which of the 14 species match with them, just as I wonder about pollinators trying to sort out the different "look-a-like" flowers, or maybe they don't need to. It's been years since I took fundamentals of ecology. Maybe I need a refresher, or new glasses and a better telephoto lens. Or, maybe I need to pay more attention to details like basel flowers and things rather than just looking at the flowers or purple feathers or whatever else passes for a bright shiny object that attracts my attention. But I still wonder why differences are often so similar. I'm in good company though.

Darwin

By Lorine Niedecker

I

His holy

            slowly

                        mulled over

   matter

not all “delirium

            of delight”

                        as were the forests

   of Brazil

“Species are not

            (it is like confessing

                        a murder)

   immutable”

He was often becalmed

            in this Port Desire by illness

                        or rested from species

   at billiard table

As to Man

            “I believe Man…

                        in the same predicament

   with other animals”

II

Cordilleras to climb—Andean

            peaks “tossed about

                        like the crust

   of a broken pie”

Icy wind

            Higher, harder

                        Chileans advised eat onions

   for shortness of breath

Heavy on him:

            Andes miners carried up

                        great loads—not allowed

   to stop for breath

Fossil bones near Santa Fé

            Spider-bite-scauld

                        Fever

   Tended by an old woman

“Dear Susan…

            I am ravenous

                        for the sound

   of the pianoforte”

III

FitzRoy blinked—

            sea-shells on mountain tops!

                        The laws of change

   rode the seas

without the good captain

            who could not concede

                        land could rise from the sea

   until—before his eyes

earthquake—

            Talcahuana Bay drained out—

                        all-water wall

   up from the ocean

—six  seconds—

            demolished the town

                        The will of God?

   Let us pray

And now the Galápagos Islands—

            hideous black lava

                        The shore so hot

   it burned their feet

through their boots

            Reptile life

                        Melville here later

   said the chief sound was a hiss

A thousand turtle monsters

            drive together to the water

                        Blood-bright crabs hunt ticks

   on lizards’ backs

Flightless cormorants

            Cold-sea creatures—

                        penguins, seals

   here in tropical waters

Hell for FitzRoy

            but for Darwin Paradise Puzzle

                        with the jig-saw gists

   beginning to fit

IV

Years… balancing

            probabilities

                        I am ill, he said

   and books are slow work

Studied pigeons

            barnacles, earthworms

                        Extracted seeds

   from bird dung

Brought home Drosera—

            saw insects trapped

                        by its tentacles—the fact

   that a plant should secrete

an acid acutely akin

            to the digestive fluid

                        of an animal! Years

   till he published

He wrote Lyell: Don’t forget

            to send me the carcass

                        of your half-bred African cat

   should it die

V

I remember, he said

            those tropical nights at sea—

                        we sat and talked

   on the booms

Tierra del Fuego’s

            shining glaciers translucent

                        blue clear down

   (almost) to the indigo sea

(By the way Carlyle

            thought it most ridiculous

                        that anyone should care

   whether a glacier

moved a little quicker

            or a little slower

                        or moved at all)

   Darwin

sailed out

            of Good Success Bay

                        to carcass-

   conclusions—

the universe

            not built by brute force

                        but designed by laws

   The details left

to the working of chance

            “Let each man hope

                        and believe

   what he can”

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Please be kind to each other while you can.

Local is as local does

We ate our first honeycrisp apples of the season this past week. They had the crisp part just fine but might have been picked a little early for the "honey" flavor.

ruby-throated hummingbird at feeder

Photo by J. Harrington

When once we only had a male or a female visiting at a time, several hummingbirds have been showing up at the feeder this week. They've also been exploring the picture window to see if there's a way into the house, perhaps to taste the Better Half's purple orchids growing in view of the window. I'm assuming that this year's family is learning their way around and starting to "fatten up" (if I can use that term about hummingbirds) in preparation for their migration.

Canada goose, gander and goslings

Photo by J. Harrington

I've heard reports that the Canada geese are going through their "training flights" these mornings, when this years goslings test their wings and the adults make sure all the pieces are there after the Summer molt. These practice sessions will continue until they all head south at or just after freeze-up.

Thinking about migration provides a different perspective to the question of "local" as in local food or local economy. For example, historically, "...the Ojibwe ...moved according to a seasonal subsistence economy---fishing in the summer, harvesting wild rice in the fall, hunting, trapping, and ice fishing in the winter, and tapping maple syrup (see below) and spearfishing in the spring...."

Local foods can be as close as our backyard, or within a "100-mile diet" range, or the five-state region centered around Minnesota. Our hummingbirds and geese travel more than 1,000 miles from their Summer range to the Gulf coast or beyond. If that migration distance is "natural," we probably need to give more thought to what we're trying to define as "local," lest we be found arbitrary and capricious. You might have thought that, since we finished the bioregional quiz last Friday, we were done with it for now. You might have jumped to a conclusion.

Where We Live

By Michael Dickman 

For John Guare 

I used to live

in a mother now I live

in a sunflower

Blinded by the silverware

Blinded by the refrigerator

I sit on a sidewalk

in the sunflower and its yellow

downpour

The light of  the world

beads up on one perfect

green leaf

It scribbles its name on every living thing then erases it so what’s left is more of a whisper than a mother

Here it’s spring

Over and over and over again

•

I used to live

in a cloud now I live

in a crow

It’s tiny and crippled in there but I can find my way to the bathroom in the dark if   I need to

All the windows

in the crow are left open

and let the clouds in

Back in

They float past my bed and have nothing to say

Hello it’s nice to meet you!

From a telephone pole

tongues slide out singing

welcome home

Welcome home they sing

•

I used to live

in a tree now I live

in a king

He waves his arms in front of   him and endless migrations of   birds disappear into his coat

I like to sit up inside

his crown eating sandwiches

and watching tv

Hills shake in the distance when he shuffles his feet

Floods when he snaps his fingers

I bow inside his brow and the afternoon stretches out

Orders more sandwiches

And sells the slaves

and sets the slaves free

and sells the slaves

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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.