Years ago, a thoughtful naturalist, or perhaps a naturalist with too much time on his or her hands, compiled a list of traits that typify us nature nerds.
In the style of Jeff Foxworthy’s “You might be a redneck if …” the list read something like, “You might be a naturalist if … you have to warn people before they open any container in your fridge; you’ve ever stopped to get a closer look at roadkill or, even better, brought it home.” You get the picture.
In the spirit of giving that permeates this festive time of year, we present, as our gift to you, our very own You Might Be a Naturalist … The Holiday Version. Feel free to share it with friends and family so they too can gauge their naturalist traits – or at least be aware of what they’re in for when you join them ’round the wassail bowl.
You might be a naturalist if …
At the Christmas tree lot, you pick the tree with the crooked trunk and scraggly branches because it has a bird nest in it.
You’re just as interested in mistletoe’s hemi-parasitic relationship with its host tree as you are in any human relationship that might have led you to buy a sprig. Maybe even more so.
Your “Wish List” includes something called Repliscat.
You use your Christmas orange to explain plate tectonics and continental drift. (Here’s how! Remove the orange peel in as few pieces as possible. Flatten the pieces out on the table and explain to all who will listen that they represent the plates of the earth’s crust. Next, put the pieces back on the orange – use a toothpick to secure them if you need to – and tell how the cracks represent fault lines. Then lightly twist the orange to move the pieces, thus illustrating how shifting plates produce major geomorphological changes.)
You repeatedly point out the distinct possibility that all of Santa’s reindeer might in fact be female, as evidenced by the presence of antlers in winter.
Fingers crossed, you check your stocking to see if Santa left you a lump of coal. If he did, you check its color, hardness and luster, then hold it over a flame to conclude which rank – lignite, subbituminous, bituminous or anthracite – you received. You then proceed to chatter endlessly about coal formation and each type’s specific properties.
You’re dreaming of a white Christmas, but only so you can state, with authority augmented by various diagrams of crystal formation, that the chances of two snowflakes looking exactly alike is next to impossible.
You decide to key out all the animals in “The Twelve Days of Christmas” and learn that day four actually refers to “colly birds,” not “calling birds,” which is what you’d been singing all these years. You dig further and find out that colly birds are European blackbirds, Turdus merula, and, unlike our local blackbird species, are members of the thrush family.
With shopping and wrapping still not done, you delve deeper and discover that “five golden rings” likely refers to ringnecked birds – perhaps pheasants – and not the jewelry you’d always pictured.
You relinquish all thoughts of heading out to shop, knowing that you can always hit up the gigantic rack of gift cards at Jewel, and spend what you deem a very pleasant evening learning more about swans a-swimming, geese a-laying, French hens, turtle doves and of course that partridge – likely the French red-legged partridge, Alectoris rufa – in a pear tree, Pyrus communis.
Many thanks to all of you who read this column, as well as those of you who have taken the time to share your questions, comments and suggestions. Input is always appreciated.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good period of darkness between dusk and dawn.
I mean night.
Pam Erickson Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services at the Hickory Knolls Discovery Center, a facility of the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at potto@stcparks.org or 630-513-4346.