Part 1
I
think that my affinity for nature began before I could even consciously recognize
it. I have always known that I cared for the environment and my natural
surroundings, but I never could pin point why. Not too long ago my mom told me
that when I was a baby, she would always take me to parks; spending time
outside was always something she prioritized for me. Perhaps that is where it
all started. I also remember not being afraid of bugs and insects as a young
child, a stark contrast to how I feel about them now (most bugs terrify me nowadays).
I used to willingly approach and hold things that crawled in fields but the
thought of doing that now, quite frankly, disgusts me. Maybe “ecophobia” got to
me. I don’t know how else to account for that shift. Looking back, I’m
realizing that I miss the days of mindlessly digging in the dirt with a “cool stick”
that I found. It’s hard to imagine that at one point that was ever truly entertaining.
I can also distinctly recall a honeysuckle shrub that grew right outside the
fence surrounding my elementary school soccer field. My friends and I would
pick the white and yellow honeysuckle flowers right off and suck the nectar out
of them like candy. It’s interesting to remember a younger Angie that would
actually do something like that.
As I grew older, my mom and I
started going to National Parks more because that has always been something my mom
loved doing. Each park that I’ve been to has offered me such a unique
experience that I will always cherish. The Grand Canyon, in particular, gave me
a moment I will never forget. It was actually nighttime, when the beautiful colorations
of the rocks were not visible anymore and all I could see was a vast emptiness
and the shining stars above me. There were so many. I remember being in awe, thinking
that I had never seen so many stars in my life. With all the tourists gone, my
mind was able to settle and truly experience the canyon. I was amazed by the
fact that something like the Grand Canyon existed, and I realized how incredibly
geologically diverse our country is.
More recently, I visited the
Yosemite National Park for the second time and had the best hike of my life. I
can’t remember the name of the hike, but it led me and my family to Elizabeth
Lake. The lake and its surroundings were undoubtedly beautiful, but the meadow
and stream you must cross first is what really took my breath away. I took a
picture on my Nikon and it has been my phone screensaver ever since. I had
never experience more natural beauty than in that moment.
If I’m being honest, I’ve never
given natural history much thought. I think I’ve taken my natural surroundings
for granted, assuming it has always been there and always will be. I know that
this is untrue, and I am truly looking forward to learning about the natural history
of the Puget Sound. I’m already amazed by the few things I have learned, from the
impact of the Cordilleran ice sheet to the man-made alterations of Seattle.
Part 2
2:08
pm, Licton Springs Park, 56°, Humid, 30% chance of rain, mostly gray skies
As I approach my site, a brown duck
quickly flies away from the relatively still stream. It escapes before I can
even think about trying to identify it, but I’m thinking it might be a female mallard, though I can’t be sure. The
spot I chose seems to be in a relatively natural state that is not actively
maintained. I went off the main trail a little bit and the spot is somewhat
hidden.
This is a photo of my 1 sq. meter spatial scale for my spot.
This is a photo of my 50 sq. meter spatial scale for my spot.
I chose Licton Springs Park because it is a
short walk from the North Seattle College campus, where I have class on Mondays
and Wednesdays. I also read that salmonberries grow here, so I’m hoping to see
those along with other native plant species.
The first thing I notice about my
site is the stream of water and the lush vegetation that surrounds it. At the
edge of the stream there is mud that turns into a floor of dead leaves. I also
notice that the trees in the general area are pretty slanted, varying in their
degrees of slant. I also note that a couple of trees are marked with what looks
like purple and white spray paint.
This is one of the trees that is marked with white and purple paint. I'm not sure if this is done by park maintenance or the public.
There
is a slight breeze and I can feel the humidity in the air. It’s not too cold,
though. The air also smells very fresh, like it might rain soon. On the ground
I see moss, sticks, and twigs over a bed of dead leaves. I also notice the
presence of horsetail, which I know
is an invasive species.
This is a photo of the invasive horsetails.
There are other plants, some of which I hope are native,
but I cannot immediately identify them. I look up and I do not see much
coverage; the leaves are not numerous enough to provide a high-density canopy
and a lot of light comes through. The trees are also not numerous enough to
shield my site from suburbia. I can tell that I am in a residential area by the
visible houses in the distance. I can also see a person playing with their dog
not too far off. There is also a nearby playground, so I can hear children
playing and laughing. And if I really pay attention, I can hear the soft roar
of I-5 traffic, like a continuous whoosh. More pronounced, though, is the sound
of birds chirping. Some are calling at the same time, and there does seem to be
a difference in the different calls. I can also hear a light clicking, and I am
unsure if the sound comes from a bird or a bug. On my way out of the site, I
see a small spot of bright pink among all of the green. 
The small, unidentified, pink flower.
I’m not sure what it
is, but it was nice to see a bright color in a sea of green and brown.
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