"We never know the worth of water ‘til the well is dry."
—Unknown
Ginny Neil
March is a month of melting and mud. A month of slop and suck. A month of rising and rooting. March is also nature’s starving time. As animals that hid for the winter re-emerge and blink in the sunlight, they are hungry but there isn’t much growing, yet. Except in the wetlands.
That’s where a bear heads first. Before she can eat, she must get rid of the fecal plug her body made in the fall so she wouldn’t foul her den. A patch of eastern skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) will solve her problem. A meal of this natural bear laxative softens the plug so she can push it out and open up her digestive system.
Skunk cabbage is also important to honeybees. The flower, which is called a spadix, pokes up before the leaves and often before the snow melts. It grows rapidly inside a hooded spathe creating enough heat to melt the snow at its base. For a honeybee, which needs a temperature of at least 50 degrees in order for its wing muscles to work, this natural sauna/snack bar provides a double benefit on a chilly morning.
Ginny Neil
Skunk cabbages aren’t the only early foods in the wetlands. Deer browse alder bushes growing along the soggy creek sides and bees will visit their pollen-filled catkins to carry food back to the baby bees until a better pollen source is available. In a week or two, bears and white-tailed deer will graze the willow catkins, dandelions and other emergent vegetation. At this time of year, the tender young leaves and flowers are full of protein which will give the animals enough energy to start searching for better food sources.
Although I don’t want bears and deer making a spring visit to my yard, I do want to provide some early food and habitat for other spring foragers. There’s a perennially soggy area in front of my house which I’ve let stay wild. It’s filled with cattails, sweet flag, marsh marigold, willow and alder. Red-winged blackbirds build their nests in the supple stems and feast on leftover seeds. The ditch that brings water to it is full of crayfish which are a prized food source for raccoons. Once a blue heron stopped by for a visit.
I also created a small pond out of a discarded bathtub. I planted it with rushes and water lilies, allowing muck to accumulate on the bottom. Salamanders lay eggs there and I keep the ice on top open so migrating birds can stop for a sip.
Clay pots turned upside down on top of a few small rocks near the pond’s edge attract toads and keep them moist and safe. Once, a toad took up residence in one of my houses and trilled love songs every evening at dusk until he found a mate, or gave up. I was never really sure which.
Ginny Neil
The one thing I learned the hard way is that the pond is also a pet magnet. My beagle thinks the mucky water tastes better than any other drinking source on the farm. Of course this is the dog that also licks up chicken poop and rolls in dead possum, so there is no accounting for taste. My cat, on the other hand, is attracted by the frogs. One day, she managed to snag one. When she brought it to me, I grabbed a sewing needle and some thread and sewed its belly shut before tipping it back into the water. Then I built a small fence around the pond.
In 1984, Harvard naturalist, Dr. Edward O. Wilson, proposed that humans are genetically wired to love all that is alive. My wetlands, natural and otherwise, are the first place in early spring, where animals can find something to eat. But, they are also the first place, after a cold winter, where I can love on all that is alive. Water is the beginning of life.
The story above first appeared in our March/April 2021 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!