I headed to Grosse Ile on Sunday, May 3rd knowing it would most likely be the last trek on the Island this year, since the Grosse Ile free bridge was slated to close on May 6th and not re-open until sometime in December. There is a toll bridge to access the Island, but it has been congested with those who live or work there beating a path back and forth, so I’ll be patient and visit other venues besides Grosse Ile until 2021.
With that mindset, Meridian Woods was the first spot on the day’s agenda, later to be capped off with a trip to Elizabeth Park.
Bob, a fellow walker at Council Point Park, lives on Grosse Ile and last year, after showing me photos of deer families congregating in the wooded areas and trotting down the main drag near his home, I wanted to see those deer for myself, so he gave me some tips and directions. Bob mentioned some Nature Open Spaces venues to visit on the Island and I’d visited all but this particular one last year.
I was especially keen on visiting this natural woodsy area since many folks on the Michigan marsh or park sites I follow on social media, were commenting on the return of the “Spring Peepers” – while Spring Peepers may sound like a type of local songbird, they are tiny frogs which make a peeping noise and when there are a lot of them, it sounds like a chorus of birds. So, how cool is that? I found this very interesting video which shows one of these tiny frogs, with a not-so-tiny voice. This is one of the better nature videos I’ve viewed on YouTube; you can click here to view it.
So off to Meridian Woods I went to look for frogs.
One thing I’ve discovered about Grosse Ile, is that there are not too many places to park, especially if you want to walk along the Detroit River’s edge. There is no boardwalk, it is all private property, with many stately homes along East River Road. The only solution is to park in one of the four school parking lots and just walk from there.
So, I pulled into Meridian Elementary School and crossed over to the east side of Meridian Road to visit this locale, formerly known as Manchester Woods.
So, where do I go first … the trail or the across the little bridge? I chose the trail.
There was an information station which showed the history of this 153-acre wooded area and trail and a couple of warnings like poison ivy – yikes! I put that idea out of my head since there was the promise of frogs also listed on that same info sheet. 🙂
The trail was short, just like the other Grosse Ile Open Space nature nooks I’ve visited, so no worries that I’d stray too far from the main trail and become lost in the depths of the forest. At any given time, I don’t think I’d gone a mile from Meridian Street where I entered the trail.
It was clear and dry, then suddenly I hit a muddy patch, but some kindly soul had made provisions for that icky mud, by putting some sticks to cross over the muddy spots.
Once past that makeshift bridge, in this part of the woods, there were bogs and water had spilled over near the trail I was walking on.
There were many felled trees and while some logs were half submerged, other logs were glistening with a heavy covering of moss. The sun was filtering through the trees making that moss looked iridescent.
Still other trees were in various stages of decay like this one.
I continued along the Old Path/Creek Bed and it was very quiet; no humans were around, which I appreciated as we were about seven weeks into this COVID-19 crisis, but also because I wanted to hear those singing frogs. I had researched a little about the Spring Peepers and learned they are most active in the morning and evening and their song carries up to two and one-half miles.
As I walked along, the occasional woodpecker was tapping, or songbird warbling. I did not have peanuts with me to dole out, but the squirrels were occupied chattering away while they chased one another, their nails clicking on the bark of the still-standing trees, so I doubted they would have come over and begged.
A bit farther into the bog area, I heard them, the faint song interrupting the solitude of my walk, but that was okay. I studied the bog, looking for movement within and strained to hear where the sounds originated, knowing that even if I had brought my boots along, there was no way I was crossing through that bog to investigate – who knows if snakes lived in there, no … just no.
So I had to be content to hear the music only.
Finally, I walked back to Meridian Road and as the chorus grew fainter, I decided to investigate what was beyond the small wooden bridge – perhaps more frogs that I could see?
Well, the wooden walkway merely crossed over a small stream. The water was very clear, so I would have had a good view to glimpse any of those tiny frogs, but there were none, just the glimmer of sun hitting last Fall’s leaves that had settled onto the surface of the water.
Overhead were tender leaves, just unfurling and making their Spring debut. The forest was not entirely leafed out yet allowing for peeks at the sky above.
I made the short jaunt back to the car and headed for Elizabeth Park. I had planned to go down to the River in Wyandotte afterward, but it was very hot that day, so I tabled that idea.
Next year, I’ll find those Spring Peepers and hear their song … do I need to make a “Frog Photo Bucket List for 2021” perhaps?
I will fete fathers, just like mothers, so let me wish you Happy Father’s Day if it applies.
Back in May, the weekend after Council Point Park so abruptly closed, I wondered if I would have fresh fodder for blog posts until it re-opened. Sure, I had lots of photos that I’d taken and were languishing in my picture folders, but each year I try to get some cute baby and parent photos to use for Mother’s Day and Father’s Day.
So, off I went to Elizabeth Park, on Sunday, May 3rd, hoping to catch a glimpse of some goslings. Lucky for me, there were several families paddling around in the canal.
A peaceful morning spent watching geese and goslings. I like the family in the foreground best.
While I shouldn’t play favorites, by far, these were the cutest goslings of the bunch.
A father’s pride and joy are his offspring, no matter how young or old they are.
He protects them as long as he is able, for one day they will leave and start their own families.
Little one – may you always look up to your father for guidance ‘cuz life sure is tough sometimes.
And now I’ll leave you with a quote:
“The imprint of a father remains forever on the life of the child.” —Roy Lessin
I believe I’ve witnessed a few parenting faux pas and I want to write about them in this forum.
Ahem – I should probably make the disclaimer here that I’ve never been a parent.
Well, I’ve been a pet parent several times, and, when I had that special status, I know I was the ultimate “helicopter pet parent” as I was always hovering, always fretting about my two birdies … in this case my canaries. In fact, the kindly avian vet where I took Buddy and Sugar told me “Linda – just treat them like a bird – they don’t need to be wrapped in so many blankets to bring them over here – really, they are not as fragile and delicate as you think!” I nodded my head and said “OK Dr. Cook” but it went in one ear and out the other.
As for my own parents – they were strict and I toed the line. I knew what was expected of me and didn’t cross my folks as they always meant business. 🙂
I keep checking off items on that “Photo Birdie Bucket List for 2020”.
I’ve had a wonderful streak of luck fulfilling that “Photo Birdie Bucket List” since I first spotted that lowly hummingbird on Memorial Day. It was sipping nectar from a weed with pink, bell-shaped flowers outside the door. Happy to check “Hummingbird” off my list and determined that it should return and be an “outside pet” I got two small hummer feeders, some red ribbon and some packages of hummingbird nectar. I even sprang for a red bottle to put the nectar in and thought of a name, all reasons that would clinch having Homer hang around. He’s been around, the nectar goes down, but he’s camera shy … so far anyway. I’ll have to work on that, though sadly it cannot be accomplished with Nutter Butter cookies as Homer is not a pushover like the squirrels.
Good fortune was with me when I saw Mama Mallard and her 10 ducklings, then a couple of days later at Elizabeth Park I saw a cygnet. If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you know I have spent many mornings along the Detroit River boardwalks, especially the small cove at Dingell Park where fellow walker Mike told me he always saw the Mama Mute Swan and her cygnets. Well, I saw many Mute Swans, just no swanlings.
The mental image I conjured up about a swan and her young that I would one day be lucky enough to see and photograph, was the likes of this very cute video.
But Nature does not always cooperate the way YOU want it to.
“Adulting” is no fun sometimes. I tempered my expectations a little about seeing and photographing a scene the likes of that fun swan video. In fact, my first cygnet sighting went more like this. The parents and their youngster were more than just social distancing, believe me. The other adult swan was so far away, I could not get it into the whole frame.
The trio was in the middle of the Detroit River and closer to the Canadian side, so the photos are not as close as I would like. I was watching from the boardwalk at Elizabeth Park. To be honest, I was aghast at the parents who were joyriding the waves without a care in the world for their poor youngster.
Meanwhile, Junior was paddling furiously along, those oversized, black, webbed feet trying to keep up with his folks. It was not easy for two reasons: 1) the wind kicked in while I was at the River (later, when I turned on the weather forecast I learned it was about 16 mph/26 kph); and 2) the waves were very high from all the boat traffic.
Unlike the Mama Mallard who was attentive to her youngsters that lined up obediently, never budging from the queue, or Mama’s side, or the Canada Geese parents, always fiercely protective of their goslings from the nest until they fledge, I was appalled at the lackadaisical way the Mister and Missus managed their only cygnet.
The youngster trailed behind them crying out with peeps and squeaks as it was rockin’ and rollin’ on the River. See that little beak open as he/she cried out.
Moments later, I was horrified to see the wave almost submerge this wee one. Imagine all the water ingested!
I stayed awhile and got these photos, hoping that the trio would come closer to the boardwalk, perhaps going into the small channel where the Pekin and Mallard Hybrid ducks hang out, but no, they continued floating down the River. Perhaps I should have reported them to the ASPCA?
P.S. – I previously thought this was shoddy child care, but the upside-down nest might have been a casualty of the wind and hopefully already empty.
It’s THAT time of year in Michigan. The Poplar trees, a/k/a Cottonwood trees, are at it again, dispensing wisps of white fluffy stuff all around the neighborhood. Just like clockwork, every Spring, after pollination has taken place, the white and fuzzy wisps will scatter to the wind beginning in early-to-mid-June. The seeds are light as a feather and may travel as far as five miles from the tree they originated from. I don’t see a single Cottonwood tree in my immediate neighborhood, yet all the recent high winds have caused fuzzies to drift lazily about the ‘hood. The filmy fuzzies also find themselves sucked into the A/C grille where they glom together and must be sprayed off periodically to avoid taxing the unit.
At Council Point Park, a quick glance down at the trail showed me an abundance of fluff. I saw cottony seeds outlining the asphalt path, similar to how sudden snow flurries quickly settle into the area where the path meets the grass. What cotton seeds don’t land on the path like this …
… are sure to land in the water, so it appears that cotton balls are dotting the Creek surface.
But it was not just cotton-filled trails; I saw a Cottontail.
This bunny was so small that it had not yet developed its most-recognizable attribute, that white powder puff tail that identifies Michigan’s Cottontail Rabbits.
Slowly I retrieved the camera from its pouch and that slight movement caused the bunny to bolt. Bummer! But he aimed for a patch of fresh mulch beneath a memorial tree. “Perfect!” I thought, but then Parker ambled over near my feet.
Unlike the bunny, Parker is far from shy!
“Yes I see you dear” I told him, but the ever-impatient Parker, who is used to being indulged his every peanut whim, was not fine with waiting. We had a mini stare-down and I swear if he could stomp his little paws like a whiny toddler, he would have done so, all the while protesting “nuts now please!” I whispered to him to please be still and that didn’t work as he climbed aboard my right shoe, then rested his front paw on the cuff of my sock. He’s bold as brass, as you know. Next, I saw him glance up at the bag of peanuts suspended in a mesh bag off my fanny pack, and, fearing he’d make an acrobatic move to reach them and accidentally claw my bare leg, I stopped, fished out a few peanuts, then laid them on the ground.
In that few seconds I took my eyes off the bunny, that mini Cottontail had hightailed it to an area where some tender shoots were growing. Obscured by a large leaf that he nibbled on, all I saw was a pair of twitching furry ears with shell pink translucent inner portions that were bathed in the soft morning light.
I got these few shots of this cutie pie, though he kept scooting back into the shady area. (Thanks Parker.) So, I fed a few more peanuts to Parker who hung around, afraid he might miss something. Hmm … was I just imagining that Parker seemed miffed to not be the center of attention?
I did NOT have my ducks in a row on the morning I saw Mama Mallard and her cute contingent of “mini-me” ducklings marching in a perfect queue behind her. They were the epitome of all that is good in this world, balls of fluff, each hurrying along on tiny legs to keep pace with Mama and their siblings.
Followers of my blog know I’ve long lamented not seeing ducklings at any of the park venues that I frequent. Every Spring I go in quest of duckling sightings and pictures, whether to Coan Lake at Heritage Park, down to the Detroit River, or even to Lake Erie Metropark or Elizabeth Park. All are big duck hangouts, but no ducklings were discovered.
Then this scenario literally fell into my lap.
I was running late last Thursday morning. I really couldn’t blame it on the fireworks that erupt nightly in the ‘hood until 11:00 p.m. from Memorial Day to Labor Day, but it might have been the wind that continued howling into the wee hours of the night, long after the storm ended. I had agonized over that pending severe weather all day Wednesday. Grateful we were spared that bullet of possible tornadic action, hail and 70 mph/113 kph winds, after an angst-ridden day, I happily drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened several times through the night by the wind whooshing around in the trees, making an eerie noise.
The alarm rang, more obnoxious than usual after just a few hours’ sleep and I didn’t put enough speed into my routine and decided to just drive to the Park. There I saw fellow walker Janet and we visited a few minutes, then decided to walk together. I was doling out peanuts to the squirrels when Janet said “look over there!” My head swirled around to see a female Mallard marching in the fenced-in soccer field with a passel of ducklings behind her. We watched as Mama and her charges stayed close to the fence. I grumbled that “any other day I’d have my camera with me, but I haven’t seen much here lately, so I left it at home!”
Well, we had time to walk Loop #1, then Loop #2, then back to the first loop, where Mama and her minions continued their relentless march along the fence line. Before Janet and I parted, I told her since I had the car, I was going home for the camera and hopefully they’d still be there when I returned.
Hey everyone – this is no time to be camera-shy!
Yes, I went back, a little breathlessly, as it was getting later and I didn’t want to be late for work. In my haste, oops … I forgot to bring the peanuts back with me – hopefully no squirrels were there to beg and/or complain. I headed straight to the fence and there they were, still marching in place. Query: were they exercising?
To be honest, I found it odd to see ducks roaming on land to begin with. At larger water venues, sure they flock around the water, sleeping in huddles with a sentry duck keeping watch over them, but they are always close enough to fly or waddle over to the water should they feel endangered by a predator, human or otherwise. At Council Point Park, sometimes the Mallards wander onto the Creek banks or bask in the sun on the cement ledge, but those instances are few and far between.
I admired them and took a few shots, then a woman walker saw me standing there and came over to see what had piqued my interest. “Aw, how cute, look how little” were the delighted words that tumbled out of her mouth right away. I said they’d been walking the fence line almost two hours by now, then explained I had time to drive home/back and they were still at it. A worried look crossed her face and she turned to me and said “maybe Mom doesn’t remember where she went in – should we help? Do something? Is this all fenced in here?” We tried to figure out where there was an unfenced area, but couldn’t tell. The woman said “don’t they need to be in the water by now?” I said “I dunno” – I was feeling helpless for their welfare, plus a tad guilty that my principal concern had been returning to take that long-coveted “ducklings in a row” photo.
Together we quietly approached the family, both of us taking baby steps – perhaps we scared her, because in a heartbeat she ducked her head, dipped under the fence and the ducklings streamed behind her never missing a beat. 🙂
That picture of the regrouped family is featured up top, but then when I got home and looked at the photos on the screen, I realized in this photo, there were ten, not nine, little ducklings as originally thought. Yes, they all blend together, don’t they?
The other walker said “well now I can sleep better tonight.” I laughed and said “me too!”
I got this next photo as they crossed the walking path – Mama appeared anxious to get to the Creek. Perhaps these two gawking humans made her nervous. Check out the last duckling and the big strides it was taking to keep up with its siblings.
Through the tall grass and down to the Creek bank they went …
… then one-by-one I watched them plop into the water, never more than a few inches away from Mama’s body and her watchful eye. It was a beautiful sight to see as they clamored around her, then headed down the far side of the Creek.
I ran down to the cement ledge figuring I had lots of time before their arrival. Boy, was I wrong! They paddled so quickly that they had arrived there less than five minutes later. I took the last photos and soon they had disappeared out of sight.
What a treat that was to see and, as I walked to the car, I knew I could put a check mark next to Mallard Ducklings on the Photo Birdie Bucket List for 2020.
P.S. – I went to Heritage Park yesterday, always a haven for ducks. Unbelievably, as stated above, I’ve been there in late Spring scoping out ducklings many times, but if I didn’t see two different sets in Coan Lake. One set was around the same size as these and the other ducklings were much bigger, but they still stayed close to Mama Mallard nevertheless. I’ll feature those little cutie pies in an upcoming post.
Things are just ducky again now that my morning meanders are back at Council Point Park. During the one-month hiatus in May when I took to the City streets for my daily walks, I discovered there was one advantage regarding the many folks working from home, or just plain laid off for now, and that was that I didn’t have to watch for drivers zipping down the street, or backing up out of the driveway without looking first because they hit the snooze bar too many times and were running late. That’s a real problem, especially during the school year, as drivers often aren’t paying attention to pedestrians.
Although I was not studying homeowners’ trash every Monday on garbage day, I WAS observant. Those folks who were not working from home, just laid off, certainly were industrious … they were not going to log lots of hours in front of the TV, nor were they going to eat or snack all day and end up gaining that dreaded “quarantine 15” – nope, they were doing home improvements. I never saw so many brown Amazon boxes for home improvement products, or paint-splattered trays and used paint cans, ripped-and-splintered paneling and baseboards, or rolled-up old carpeting and padding, just to name a few items. Most significant were the piles of discarded items from the basement or garage – old TVs and VCRs. Perhaps people finally had time to go through and try one more time to make that weed whacker work properly, or tweak the hedge trimmers so they sheared perfectly and were not out of alignment because they ran them into the wall or the chain-link fence (yes, I did that once, into the fence when I stayed outside too long and sweat got into my eyes – oops!) It seemed like lots of folks were cleaning out old toy boxes too, as each week there were stuffed animals poking out of trash bins, discarded dolls or wagons that had seen better days.
On one such garbage day trek, I spotted this rubber ducky in the mud near a homeowner’s driveway.
In 2019, there was construction on Pagel Avenue the last six months of the year; the street and sidewalk replacement project was such a large ordeal that I was forced to find a new route to Council Point Park. The City has since replaced the grass which they tore up during this massive undertaking, but before doing so, I discovered this yellow rubber duck. It looked a little forlorn, and I had to take a photo of it since I have a few oddball images in my picture folders and why not add this one? Alas, I have a blog post spot for this rubber ducky photo.
Unlike Sesame Street’s Ernie, who is pictured in this video, I never had a rubber ducky in my bathtub when I was a little nipper. That’s because Mom was no-nonsense when it was bath time. No fun and games for me, no gimmicky water toys or Mr. Bubble” bubble bath … I just got into the tub, scrubbed up and was out again in a flash, then in my PJs for bed. Oh well, I guess it was not a bad childhood, just because of those minor fun bath time details.
Birdie bath time.
I’ve mentioned before that if you want to be amused sometime, just watch a bird, any type, enjoying a bath, whether they indulge themselves at the Detroit River, the birdbath in your backyard, or hopping through the sprinkler.
Ducks are no different – they’ll splish-splash in the water, all year around. So, here are a few ducks performing their morning ablution at the Ecorse Creek in Council Point Park. This feathery guy and gal are not as fancy as that old-fashioned word for washing themselves – they are just about the dippin’ and divin’, spreadin’ their wings and shakin’ their tail feathers.
“Which one of us is the best lookin’? I think it is rather obvious, but what say you?”
They might be playing games when submerging beneath the Ecorse Creek, disappearing into a whirlpool for a few minutes.
“Hmm – where did she go – she was just here?!”
“It’s all fun and games until your Mallard mate goes missing while trying to get deep cleaned.”
Watch them begin the drying off (or maybe showing off) process for their plumage.
“I can tread water and dry my wings at the same time – pretty cool, huh?”
“Sigh … I can do that too – watch me!”
All spiffed up and good as new. Yep, there is a whole art to it and when they are done, they are squeaky clean, so they can preen and distribute the oil throughout their feathers, keeping them waterproof – you never saw a duck with an umbrella did you?
“Well, there she goes again, my mate is part mermaid!”
“Look at me! I’m squeaky clean right down to the tip of my beak!”
“OK, we washed our beaks, feet and feathers (we don’t have hands) and we’re social distancing like we’re supposed to, so where do you want to go for breakfast?”
During the one-month period of time when Council Point Park was closed by the Mayor of our City, I tried to vary my walking routes. I wanted the steps, but didn’t want to get bored with the routine. Some days I wended my way down to the Park and walked along the fringe, but most days I relied on the tried-and-true route that I walked for two years before discovering Council Point Park in April 2013. I went down Emmons Boulevard, a street full of stately homes and huge trees which form a shady canopy over the street once they leaf out. We had a cold start to May, where temps dipped down to the low 30s a few nights and snow flurries two mornings, so the leaves weren’t out right away.
To the tracks and back …
When I first began walking, Labor Day weekend 2011, I increased my steps daily. It was a very hot and humid weekend and I walked one City block in the ‘hood and was pooped. But gradually I increased my steps daily, by adding one more block to my new walking regimen. Soon I was up to a mile, then two miles and I remember I thought I was pretty cool the day I first walked to another city – I walked from Lincoln Park …
… to Wyandotte.
The two cities are separated by a road and footbridge that go over the Ecorse Creek. It is the same Creek that runs through Council Point Park.
Back when this was my daily route, I would often stop at the footbridge because there were ducks or geese paddling around in the water here. In fact, I used to take bread to feed them, until I discovered bread was not good for waterfowl.
Each time I crossed the footbridge in May, I gazed at each side, looking for a sign of life to take photos for my blog.
There were swallows dipping and diving through the trees, over the water and under the footbridge. They never stopped long enough to catch their breath, or so I could take a photo of them. I saw one duck and that was it. A lowly soccer ball floated down the Creek, making it seem a bit desolate.
Once I crossed the bridge into Wyandotte, I aimed to get to the railroad tracks every morning. “To the tracks and back” was my goal.
The train blitzes through around 8:15 a.m. to 8:30 a.m. several days a week. I only cross the tracks on weekends because one time I walked to the marina and stayed there for awhile, then on my way home, a very long train, with 100 plus boxcars, held me up. I’d still have made it back on time for work, but for the fact that the train stopped for some reason. To backtrack and find an alternate way home, would have taken too long, so I just waited it out. So trips to the River’s Edge Marina were relegated to weekends after that episode.
The marina is just a stone’s throw away from the Detroit River, but if I chose to walk all the way to this venue, I was in still another city, Ecorse. This year, due to COVID-19, kayaks and canoes were allowed before motorboats – the marina was not a hoppin’ place the few times I meandered there. I used to enjoy getting there early on a Saturday morning when a few shells were in place and one by one the rowers would step into the shells. The Ecorse Rowing Club is down the street by Dingell Park and many Saturday mornings I’d watch the rowers at the Club getting their exercise as their shells skimmed along the River.
Where else did I go? I also traveled through the nearby neighborhoods to get extra steps in. After mentioning to fellow blogger Laurie about a homeowner who had a metal container of dog treats for owners to reach in and give some to their pooches while on their walks, I tried to recall the cross-streets for that home to visit and take a picture. After wandering around trying to recall the location, I finally found it – yes indeed the dog treat container was still there.
I discovered something else about this home that sits on a double lot. Since the last time I walked past this corner, it looked totally different. Rather than the usual lawn, the homeowners have opted to have a carpet of ivy. And tucked into that ivy, were a bounty of ceramic critters who found their home alongside so many tulips, that I could have tiptoed through them. I’m going to spotlight that home separately.
I’m glad to be back at Council Point Park. Finally, the regular walkers are straggling back – unlike me, they are not on social media and only learned the Park re-opened by doing a drive-by. Slowly the squirrels are returning from begging in the nearby ‘hoods to begging at my feet. Whew – for a few days I feared my crown of “The Peanut Lady” had been tarnished. The peanut-eating birds remain at large but hopefully once the berry bushes are full, they will return en masse to munch on mulberries.
Linda Schaub
WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY 