March 5, 2015
Recycling Nature
Only a couple of sealed pupal cells remain inside this predated baldfaced hornets’ nest. The rest of the colony’s larvae were consumed by the animal that opened the nest and took advantage of the free, albeit frozen, food.
I walked to work the other day. I know, not really earth-shattering news. But after reading a couple more details, you just may find my little adventure interesting after all.
One, it was Tuesday. Yeah, THAT day. The one with all the messy snow and sleet. Over the course of the 3 1/2 miles between my house and Hickory Knolls, I slipped more times than I could count, and fell down twice.
Now, those of you who’ve seen me on ice before know that none of that is news either. But the way the slippery conditions made me slow down–well, that’s when the more newsworthy events started to unfold.
It was garbage day on the west side of St. Charles, and home after home had
wheeled their weekly refuse to the curb. Toddling along, stopping frequently
to regain my balance, I had plenty of time to take note of the great number of
households using the 65-gallon recycling toters made available to residents
free of charge by the City and its waste hauler, Advanced Disposal.
There’s nothing like Reducing, Reusing and Recycling to get my eco-blood
pumping and my eco-heart singing. Which then quickly led to my eco-head
thinking, “I wonder how many ways nature puts the Three Rs into practice,
every day, with no need for carts, bins or weekly curbside pickup?”
Take hornets’ nests, for instance. With the leaves still tucked safely inside their
buds, it’s easy to see these football- to basketball-sized structures suspended
amid the branches of trees in yards and parks. Some are intact, but many
more have been torn open, thanks to the food supply that lies within.
I spotted one on Tuesday, just before I fell the first time. I looked up at it as I
sat in a puddle of slush, mentally comparing the nest’s shredded remnants to
what remained of my tattered dignity. The hornets’ lives (all except the new
queens, which are hibernating in fallen logs and leaf litter) ended when the first
cold snap hit last fall. Frozen in time, and in place, the once-thriving colony
had been reduced to several dozen protein-packed bodies of larvae that didn’t
get a chance to fully develop. They were free for the taking and someone,
rather, something, like a bird, squirrel or raccoon, did just that.
A meal in the dead of winter, with little to no effort required. Talk about a great
way to repurpose!
Later, as I slipped and slid my way along Howard Street, I noticed a number
of birds’ nests—mostly robins’, but a couple of goldfinches’ too—which then
reminded me of how these structures, no longer used by their original owners,
often get adapted and adopted by other wildlife. Deer mice and white-footed
mice will use plant down, cloth scraps, even bits of plastic bags to fashion a
“roof” over the top of an abandoned nest and create a winter hideaway high
up above the ground.
Little birds’ nests then prompted me to think of big birds’ nests, and how such
palatial platforms—such as those built by hawks and herons–frequently get
reused in winter by great horned owls. These “winged tigers” are nesting even
as you read this, incubating eggs and raising young in nests built by other species.
Rounding a corner to head toward Oak Street, I took a second spill. Sprawled on the sidewalk, face down, two thoughts
sprang to mind: One, I was thankful I never had much pride, because whatever there had been was surely gone now.
And two, how many different types of animals reuse holes in the ground dug by chipmunks, ground squirrel and
woodchucks?
I dusted myself off as best I could (wet slush doesn’t really “dust” off at all, actually) and started again toward my goal,
counting burrow recyclers as I went. Snakes and toads will often use chipmunk tunnels as a conduit to spaces below
the frost line, where they overwinter. Ground-nesting insects will move in come spring. Also about that time, coyotes
and foxes will repurpose woodchuck burrows into natal dens. And the roots of plants growing near all three types of
excavations will benefit from the soil aeration that occurs courtesy of these industrious diggers.
I was about to go back to these broad groups of organisms and start naming species when I spied a tree with signs of
woodpecker activity. Woodpeckers have the ability to—without suffering permanent brain damage–pound their bills into
hard wood and excavate holes, which they then use for a season or two before moving on to a new location.
Once abandoned, woodpecker holes can become wonderfully protected roosts for flying squirrels; with a little
modification—namely, widening the entrance—these cavities can house gray or fox squirrels. Other animals that reuse
woodpecker excavations include bats, bluebirds, screech owls and honey bees, to name just a few.
By this point in my journey I was walking along the south side of Campton Hills Road, on a stretch where I had to focus
on other things, like not falling into oncoming traffic, and/or getting run over. It wasn’t until I turned into Harvest Hills,
with its winding and quiet streets, that I was able to expand my recycling thoughts further:
• Grains of sand that were once part of rocks and may, with enough heat and/or pressure, become rocks again one
day, thanks to the rock cycle.
• The great journeys that hydrogen and oxygen molecules follow as they travel through the water cycle.
• The nitrogen cycle.
• The carbon cycle.
(I did, briefly, also consider the cycles I have in my garage, namely an aging Trek 12-speed that needs new inner tubes,
and an ancient Schwinn Continental that needs a complete overhaul. Those thoughts though are most likely courtesy
of seeing The Bike Rack’s sign just before I turned.)
After a brief diversion brought about by a chance encounter with my friend Suz, who was driving her son to school, and
one last very-near fall as I was about to cross Peck Road, I found myself at Hickory Knolls’ front door.
A little wet, a little sore, but oddly invigorated, I was ready to start my day. Which, I kid you not, included a program on…
recycling.
Pam 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 630-513-4346 or potto@stcparks.org.