Alex Palmer's Natural History Notes and Thoughts

Introduction It's that time of year again!  Cooler temperatures, the low hum of leftover crickets and katydids in the trees, pumpkin spice everything, and that sweet smell of decaying leaves that permeates local parks and yards.  But best of all are the striking fall colors in parks and woodlots across the northeastern United States (figure 1).   Figure 1:  Fall color at sunset at Sand Ridge Nature Center in Illinois, 2016.   Every fall in eastern forests, what was once a garden of green transforms to a gallery of color, ranging from bright yellow to blood red to a variegated orange.  The glory doesn't last long, and soon the trees are barren and browned as dried leaves flutter to the forest floor (or into your gutters or on your car's windshield!).   I've always had a love-hate relationship with fall, and in an earlier blog post I admitted my distaste for nature's summer finale.  But the one thing I will agree on with autumn-enthusiasts is the showy bl

So you want to date a naturalist.  Or perhaps you are already dating one. Who can blame you?  Naturalists have a dreamy and wondrous sense of the world.  They are always observing what's around them, taking time to look at each flower, each rock, every bird that passes by, often expressing colorful admiration for every butterfly or moth that flutters past.  And more often than not naturalists are an open book, happily telling you about the amazing natural wonders around them, and opening your mind to things you might have never have known.  And naturalists are always eager to get outside, rain or shine, to explore a new trail or to try and catch a new frog species with a child-like sense of enthusiasm and excitement. Yes, we naturalists are dreamy, free-spirited, and curious creatures.  But unless you too are naturalist , you may find some of our behaviors a little bit excessive at times.  Perhaps an 8 mile hike up a steep ravine isn't necessarily your idea of every day fun

In a picture-perfect world, I would only deliver picture-perfect interpretive programs at my site on subjects I am deeply knowledgeable and passionate about.  But as a close colleague of mine bluntly stated to me once, "Sometimes as interpretive naturalists we don't always have the luxury of doing only the programs that we like to do." Most naturalists that I've worked with would consider themselves generalists who know a little bit about everything, from plants, to insects, to local history, to everything in between.  However, there are some topics that are more of a specialty or some than for others.  For example, I know a lot about salamanders, but I would actually consider my coworker more of the "herp specialist" since he has studied herpetology more extensively than myself.  As such, he is often the one to lead our reptile and amphibians programs at my nature center.  In contrast, I am generally considered by others to be more well-versed on  the sub

One aspect of my profession as an interpretive naturalist is that I love is that there are never-ending opportunities to learn new things. And it's often the visitors of the nature center where I work that ask the most interesting questions.  Below is my response to a question a recent visitor asked.  A common sighting on a warm, sunny day in the Chicago region is Painted Turtles ( Chrysemys picta ) basking on a log in a shallow pond or slow-moving stream.  These stoic critters can appear rather lazy as they slouch in the sun, but as cold-blooded reptiles they must fire up their metabolism by absorbing heat from the sun.  An admirer who approaches too close to a basking turtle will witness an otherwise motionless creature plunge into the water and out of sight in a split-second.   But during the spring and fall, Painted Turtles are often encountered in rather unexpected places, such as along a trail, across a grassy field, and unfortunately along busy highways.  Are these turt

When I was first informed that we were now going to be asked to submit official program plans for our nature center education programs, I couldn't help but cringe a little bit.  Another piece of paperwork to fill out?  I even noticed my coworker roll his eyes a bit.  But when I thought about it for another moment, I began to understand why the agency I work before was taking the initiative to have their staff develop written plans for their education programs.  Program plans , or program outlines , offer a summary of what you have planned for your interpretive program, including themes, materials, where you'll conduct the program, and other pertinent information.  A good program outline allows someone to pick it up and know right away what the program is about and what materials and preparation tasks are necessary to conduct the program successfully.  But what is a program plan supposed to look like?  It seems like all of my coworkers have their own way of planning a pro