Alex Palmer's Natural History Notes and Thoughts

The other day I was hiking around a forest preserve on a trail in a ravine.  It was a large forest preserve only 15 miles from downtown Chicago, which could be seen in a haze off to the east.  The cool lake breeze was blocked by the large hills in the preserve, which made for a gentle and warm spring day with many wildflowers in bloom (figure 1).  As I walked along the ravine, I spotted a Pileated Woodpecker ( Hylatomas pileatus ) scrounging around on the forest floor plucking insects and other invertebrates from a rotting log. Figure 1:  The intermittent stream valley (ravine) where I sat and watched a Pileated Woodpecker I decided to rest by sitting on a log and watching the woodpecker eat.  I watched as it sucked up every last insect from one rotting log before moving onto the next.  Sometimes it would cling itself to a dead tree snag to see what it could find, but old oak snags are somewhat rot resistant and probably did not offer much in terms of food for the woodpecker, who

A major part of my job as a naturalist is to inspire people to explore, appreciate, and care for our natural resources in a manner that is fun, positive, and safe.  I have a growing concern, though, about safety.  And no, I do not feel that my safety is in jeopardy, nor do I feel that anyone else's safety is imminently threatened.  Rather, I am become gravely concerned - and bound by, a growing overemphasis on safety.   The natural world is filled with all kinds of hazards.  Tree limbs come down and hit innocent bystanders.  Rivers and creeks flood and sweep small children away.  Snow and bitter cold harden our skin down to the bone.  A hiker enjoying a nice sunny day falls off a cliff and lands in a pile of barbed wire!   In 2013 a meteor suddenly struck a small town in Russia injuring dozens of people.  Freak accidents everywhere, and fingers are pointed every which way!  Am I being mellow dramatic?   I'd like to think so.   "I can't change the direction

Tiger Salamander ( Ambystoma tigrinum ) spotted yesterday around 5pm just outside of the building at Sand Ridge Nature Center in South Holland, Illinois.

Introduction This spring I decided to take a break from Chicago's icy and cold weather and venture down to the Florida Panhandle (figure 1).  It was perfect timing for seeing migratory birds (and resident birds) making their way back up north. Florida in general is well known for its bird life, as its warm and swampy landscape provides a haven for birds and other wildlife.  Most people are accustomed to thinking of Florida as a landscape of high rise condominiums, tacky beach-themed restaurants, and swaying coconut trees.  The panhandle of Florida, however, looks much different overall than the southern part of the state.  For one thing, it is over 300 miles further north than the near-tropical regions of Miami and the Keys.  Secondly, outwash from the Appalachian Mountains and accumulated marine deposits allow for the presence of hills and even cliffs in this region of the Sunshine State.  And you won't find any coconut trees ( Cocus nucifera ) here, as wintertime temperatur