Mentally refreshed, but with sore feet, we are back to maintain the themes of nature, wild gardening, and the environment … with a few small changes. It has been mooted that I might make posts a bit more personal; not entirely sure what that means, but I will try. There may be some shorter mid-week editions - I imagine those will be mostly photos. I was concerned that the “Noticing Nature” pieces would be a bit nerdy for some people, but feedback has been positive, often along the lines of “I never knew that …” which is what I rather hoped to achieve. Wildlife gardening will always be shared. Oh, and it seems Buster’s postcards have acquired a small, but loyal, following in light of that he will continue sending occasional postcards … when he can afford the special stamps.
The inspiration that started this back in early 2023 was, and remains, a wish to help others see that nature, wildlife, is not only something we encounter in distant forests and lakes when on vacation, but also just outside our doors, in our gardens and local parks. There is nature to be noticed whenever we, simply, go out walking. Just because it’s common doesn’t make it less valuable.
“That’s all?” I can hear you saying. “The postcards were fun, but is this the best you can come up with?”
Well, since you ask … there is also a profound reworking of Tales from the Old Bookshop - I have put a link to that further down the page.
Now, some of what you usually come here for …
In the few days since taking our boots off and settling back into the editorial suite, we have enjoyed some local wildlife as we mooch around suburbia. The year is moving on, it’s now some six weeks or so past the summer solstice and changes are evident - not least, annual gathering into noisy gangs of this years juvenile Grackles and Blue Jays and the appearance of small numbers of the very first early migrating birds who seem to be getting itchy feet now the nesting business is behind them.
We had a day of almost unremitting and very heavy rain earlier in the week. In a lull, a rather damp and dishevelled juvenile Northern Flicker found an ant highway under a wood chip path at the back of the garden and spent a long time excavating a meal for itself secure in the knowledge that it was so wet no predators would be after him. Flickers are one of the most nervous birds that flee from their own shadows under normal circumstances.
In the wild garden there was much growing and flowering going on in our absence. Large, small, furry and otherwise bees are finally exploring the offerings. Hard to capture an overview of the boskiness without a drone, but here’s one corner of the garden, the native grassland zone, with Rudbeckia hirta and the magnificent R. laciniata, Joe Pye Weed, Swamp Milkweed, many others … including the toxic Snakeroot and perhaps too much Golden Rod. Most of these plants are around shoulder height at the moment and you get wet when walking along the paths after rain.
For a while I published a parallel substack that ostensibly came from The Old Bookshop. That was merged with this one a few months ago due to overlap in both content and readership. Nevertheless, the technology that allowed it to appear still exists in internet limbo. Rather a waste. I have chosen to wake it up as somewhere to publish , from time to time, not weekly, the odder things that catch my attention. There will be photographs, of course. Articles may sometimes be longer (best taken with a mug of tea) and will allow Buster the-cat-that-was and I to write about stuff that does not fit the established themes here in WOW. You can find the Bookshop here - and should you find those posts to be of interest then you can subscribe to them too, but I will post links to new articles on the WOW pages as they arise and we will see how things work out. Everything remains free. Here’s our new “brand mark” (as I am told they are called.)
“I never knew that …”
ROWAN TREES
While we were away walking we received a message, a request, from one reader who said “I still enjoy the mix of birds, plants and insects. Maybe more about TREES too?” You asked and we deliver:
It’s true, trees, despite Canada’s biggest arboretum being no more than ten minutes drive from home, have not featured as prominently as some other creatures … This is an oversight on my part and we will start to look at more trees in more depth in the future. Trees, though are a pretty big topic and, suitably prompted, I plan a blockbuster start to the field … but not until next week. Takes time to get organised after all that walking.
But I can offer this taster … focussing on a favourite tree of mine.
ROWAN trees, also known as Mountain Ash. There are several species of Sorbus spread around the northern hemisphere, all them related to roses. Extremely hardy.
The traditional name rowan was applied to the species Sorbus aucuparia. The name “rowan” is recorded from 1804, detached from an earlier rowan-tree, rountree, attested from the 1540s in northern dialects of English and Scots. It is often thought to be from a North Germanic source, perhaps related to Old Norse reynir, ultimately from the Germanic verb raud-inan “to redden”, in reference to the berries. In the Canadian maritime provinces it is commonly referred to as a “dogberry” tree.
Mountain Ash trees are one of those many species of the Rosacea that look very little like what most people considered to be a rose. The naming of plants can sometimes be obscure. Originally the common name of Rowan was used specifically for Sorbus aucuparia - depending on where you live, the name is either unknown by people or is used more generally as a common name for the entire genus - it’s the name I grew up with. Although there are differences between North American Rowan species and the European ones, those that I have in my garden here in Quebec are mostly of the European species. Despite the common name, they are not true ashes — that designation belongs to the genus Fraxinus (family Oleaceae). The “ash” portion of the name arose because the pinnate (feather-like) compound leaves of Sorbus superficially resemble those of true ash trees.
When mature, the trees are only medium height, in theory up to 50 feet, but in my experience rarely more than 25 or 30. Trees frequently have two, sometimes three or four, trunks of up to a foot and a half in diameter. Pale yellow/white flowers appear in late spring early summer with bunches of bright red fruit in midsummer, particularly during August. The specimen I have photographed is one of two growing in my own garden, but walking around the neighbourhood it seems to me that more and more young Rowan trees are starting to appear in quiet corners and I assume that seeds have been spread by birds. There are some 60 or so bird species that to eat the fruit from these trees, but they are particularly favoured by American Robins, and in my experience Waxwings.
In Britain, it was considered that the wood of these trees had the power to turn away witches and other malign spirits. According to some references, the shaft of some farm implements would be made from Rowan tree wood in the expectation that this would protect animals and crops from the spells of witches. In Scotland Rowan trees would be planted in pastures to protect cattle and sheep and often near to the doors of houses. If I’m not mistaken, the staff that Gandalf carried in the Lord of the Rings, was made of Rowan wood.
This time last year, I had to cut a six foot staff from one of our Rowans. I left it to dry, thinking maybe I can do something with that. Now, I don’t want to waste the wood but I have no idea how to even start turning it into a magical staff. It has the stubs of side branches along its length which can be cut back but then what? Leave the bark on or remove it? Anyone have suggestions?
Leaves are pinnate with 5–9 pairs of leaflets and a terminal leaflet, serrated along the margins in European species and not so in those from North America. White flowers are shaped in flat-topped clusters from late spring to early summer. Each berry typically contains 1–2 small seeds. They are astringent when raw, mostly due to high levels of sorbic acid. Rowan berries have been used for centuries in jams, jellies, and wines across Europe. The flowers are pollinated by insects, particularly hoverflies, beetles, and bees.
The genus Sorbus is famous for being taxonomically difficult to understand, or so I have read. Many species reproduce through apomixis - a form of asexual seed production where embryos develop without fertilisation. Virgin birth, you might say. Consequently, offspring are genetically identical clones of the parent tree. When apomictic lineages arise, they perpetuate their distinctive traits indefinitely. Taxonomists recognise numerous microspecies, each subtly distinct in leaf shape, berry colour, or growth habit. In the British Isles alone, botanists have described dozens of Sorbus microspecies, many confined to a single hillside or gorge.
Among the more prominent European species beyond S. aucuparia are Sorbus aria (whitebeam) whose leaves are simple rather than compound and have whitish undersides. Sorbus torminalis (wild service tree); and Sorbus domestica (service tree), are larger trees with pear-shaped fruits. Hybridisation between species within the genus is frequent, further complicating classification. Some botanists advocate splitting Sorbus into several smaller genera, while others maintain a broad, inclusive concept of Sorbus. This debate is ongoing.
In North America, there are several native Sorbus species including Sorbus americana (American mountain ash) found in eastern North America, and Sorbus decora (showy mountain ash) growing in boreal regions, particularly around the Great Lakes and here in northeastern Canada. These species occupy ecological roles that are analogous to their European relatives: early-successional, cold-hardy trees thriving at higher elevations and latitudes. All produce the characteristic clusters of red berries highly attractive to wildlife. They have done well in this garden, but I fear how they will thrive now that summers are getting hotter and hotter. Fingers crossed - climate change adds challenges for montane species adapted to cool conditions.
Rowan trees are keystone food sources for birds during autumn and winter. The berries are consumed by a wide range of species, including thrushes (American FRobins are Thrushes, by the way), Waxwings, Starlings, and Grouse. Birds play a crucial role in seed dispersal as the seeds pass through their digestive tracts unharmed and germinate readily in droppings.
Several of the rarer Sorbus microspecies, particularly those restricted to small geographic areas in the UK, are threatened by habitat loss and ash dieback disease (Hymenoscyphus fraxineus), which, despite its name affecting true ashes (Fraxinus) is bad for these trees.
New readers may like to know where this all comes from. Briefly, I am a biologist (PhD FRSB), originally from England but now an almost thirty year Canadian citizen. I started my career in field biology with a particular interest in insects, and have returned to that side of things now I am retired. In the interim I re-qualified and worked several decades as a toxicologic pathologist (had to pay the bills somehow). For a few years I was the President of Bird Protection Quebec which is Canada’s oldest - over a century - bird focussed conservation charity. With my wife, we have created a lawn-free, bird rich, wildlife and native plant garden in suburbia. I will only write about stuff I know about and can give references for. No woo. If you use the button below to subscribe you can keep up with future editions, it’s both free and secure. Let’s go for a walk and see what’s to be seen.
🍰 Bonus treats - for those who read this far.
The Lost Art of Noticing Things
It is very important to notice things “Whilst Out Walking” anywhere. Small things that scuttle and beautiful flowers and mosses and beetles. This link takes you to an interesting article.
(Quote): I once asked a group of students to pull out their pens and start writing a list of what they loved too much to lose. They started strong. My daughter. Smell of wet oak leaves. Bees in foxgloves. But the students couldn’t keep it up. Salmon coming home. Nettle soup. Sticky cottonwood buds. A student put his head in his hands. Do we have to do this, he asked?
Yes, we have to do this, I whispered. We have to keep a list. We have to keep them in mind, all the small glories. We can’t let any of them escape our attention. Every day, every moment, we have to name what we love and stand to lose.
A montage of wildlife in video from an old logging road (you will need a Facebook account to see it). One fox was very good at catching snowshoe hares.
https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1cVfC4RFBC/
And gorgeous animated fungi on cowpats … also video:
Coming later this month -
The Tree Edition (16 August)
Hummingbird plants for your garden (23 August)
Quadrats, transects and paying for education (30 August)
Every entry is a pleasant, informative read or view of nature. Thank you for all you do.
Good to have you back Richard. One of the reasons I enjoy your stuff is that I never once suspect you’re AI—that’s a good thing these days—and you nearly always remind me to slow down and look around.