Water and Resilience
Ouabache Trails Park
April 22, 2013 – Earth Day
“I find no vindictiveness in nature, and I am aware as anyone
of hurricane, tornado, flood, drought and earthquake. Man's morality and man's codes have no more
application to the sun and the seasons, the rain and the earth's fertility than
do his esthetic concepts to the pattern of a sunset.”
Hal Borland
in the Chapter “Spring”
This Hill, This Valley
I am constantly amazed by the resiliency and persistence of
Nature. We see a plant poking and
expanding out of a crack in concrete. A
tree clings to the edge of a cliff.
Birds are heard singing in the trees after a tremendous storm. A landscape charred by wildfire is green
within a year, and wildlife returns.
As flood waters recede, we find that insects, salamanders,
snakes and others had retreated to higher or drier ground, and then they return
to the floodplain.
“Helicopter” seeds of Sugar Maple
Flood waters become a
new and flexible substrate for fallen seed.
As water flows or recedes, seeds wash to new places where they may find
conditions in which they flourish and create
new populations.
Mud-splattered Wild Ginger
We had been having rain – LOTS of rain. Rain that had fallen further north flowed
into waterways and then downstream, swelling the creeks, rivers and ponds in
the lower Wabash River valley.
My friend Angie and I went walking at Ouabache Trails Park on
the morning of Monday, April 22 – Earth Day.
Water Day should have been the name of the day. The park was in the early stages of a great
flood.
The “big creek” was swollen well beyond its banks. It was difficult to remember the location of
the normal creek bed. There was no
visible evidence of the creek-side trails where Great Blue Herons gingerly step
and children explore the water with cups and bottles.
Water flowed so slowly that the movement was barely
perceptible. The creek was more like a
long, linear pool.
Blue Phlox
Flowers continued to bloom above the water.
Spring Beauty
Plants continued their progress, opening to the light.
Garlic Mustard is one kind of plant I did not want to see
blooming, but there were several, their clusters of white flowers glowing in
the sunlight.
Garlic Mustard
I shuddered to think of this very invasive plant reaching
maturity, its many seeds being scattered far and wide via the flood
waters. It is, though, a symbol of the
persistence of Nature. Despite finding
itself in a place alien to its origins (and despite being surrounded by water
on this day), it takes hold and succeeds in this new world.
Prothonotary Warbler
Some birds were taking advantage of the fruits of excess
water. Seeds teased up from former creek
banks were brought along with the new flow.
Insects were chased from their former communities to the vulnerability
of new spaces. Shrubs surrounded by water
held small birds in their branches who occasionally dropped quickly to the debris
in the water, then flew back up to rest on a twig.
Nearby, moss on rock faces soaked in the extra moisture from
rainfall and evaporating flood waters, their leaves swelling and
greening in the nourishing atmosphere.
Moisture-loving ferns, whose spores found a home in the moss last year,
were growing out of the soft green substrate.
By the water, my eye caught a flash of brilliant
iridescence. Two triangles of shining
blue, bordered in black, lay connected on the surface of the water. The furry body connecting the wings was
partially submerged.
This butterfly, I thought, died in a final shout of
brilliance. The spiracles along it body,
through which it breathes, would have become clogged with water.
Blue-Eyed Mary
Much time passed as we watched birds and strolled the rest of
the trail, stopping to admire the Blue-Eyed Mary in bloom, then walked all the
way back up the road to our vehicles.
After a stop at the park office, I changed into wading boots and worked
my way back down the trails to the “big creek”.
I spent time down there wading into the flood water, pulling up Garlic
Mustard.
I stopped and scooped up the brilliant spot of blue into my
hand. My intention was to take the
drowned creature home to study it further and determine what kind of butterfly
it was.
A few moments later, there was a fluttering in my hand, and
then a butterfly standing up on it, as if awakened from a long sleep. It walked around on my hand awhile, trying
its feet, allowing its wings and body to dry.
I held the butterfly near a large leaf of a nearby plant and
encouraged it to walk onto the leaf, where it obliged and stepped . I scooped up my bundle of tall Garlic Mustard
plants and walked back up the trail, water squishing in my boots with each
step. I had rescued a butterfly, and had
also rescued the area from the spread of Garlic Mustard.
But, I take no credit for the butterfly. How much persistence, how much more
resilience, can Nature have than for a bright spot of water-soaked blue to come
“alive”, and find its footing again, with the scoop of a human hand?
P.S.: I consulted a
local “butterfly friend” about the identification of this one. He had never seen one like it, and suspected
it to be a White M Hairstreak (Parrhasis m-album), but encouraged me to contact
Jeffrey Belth, author of Butterflies of Indiana: a Field Guide (Indiana University
Press, 2013). I sent a message and
photos to Belth, who sent me a friendly, enthusiastic and informative response,
and who confirmed the identification.
The White M Hairstreak is rare to Indiana, or rarely seen. It had not previously been reported from Knox
County, or nearby counties, and had only been reported from 10 or our 92
Indiana counties.
This butterfly lives in the canopy and makes infrequent,
quick trips down for nectar. Its
“drowning” was fortuitous for the observer, for both the identification and the
joy of seeing its wonderful color for an extended time. But, its resilience is fortuitous for its
survival, and hopefully for the survival of the species in Ouabache Trails
Park, here in Knox County, Indiana.
