Nature in All its Forms at Allerton Park

On a recent weekend, I hiked at Allerton Park near Monticello, Illinois. Once the property of a wealthy family, Allerton Park was donated to the University of Illinois in 1946. The university runs the mansion as a retreat center, and the gardens, woods, and prairies around it as a park and nature preserve. Despite living about an hour or less from it at various times in my life, this was the first time I actually visited the place. It won't be the last time I visit.

America's Best Idea Shut Down

By now, I'm sure many of you are sick and tired of hearing about the Government shut-down (and being sick and tired of the shut-down itself is an understatement). With many "non-critical" parts of federal government being furloughed, a lot of Americans are wondering what this means for our country now and in the long run. I'm not going to get into political speculation here; no, this blog post is instead about a major part of our government and our identity as a nation that too has been labeled as non-essential - the National Parks.

Adventures in Camping - Table Rock Lake

You know you're going camping with a good coupla people when the first thing you do, gearing up for the four hour car ride, is blast "On the Open Road" from a Goofy Movie.

Yes, a couple of coworkers and I were headed four hours south of St. Louis to Table Rock Lake in Southern Missouri, where we hoped to have a relaxing weekend filled with camping, scuba diving, and s'mores. We'd spent the last couple weeks planning this adventure and couldn't be more excited - the days at work leading up to the big trip were spent with high fives and random shouts of "WE'RE GOING CAMPING!". No WAY our other coworkers could have been annoyed.

Nature and City Livin' - a Nighttime Observation

I just cannot keep myself together. THIS week, since I got off-topic last week and talked about animals and weather, was going to be about wetlands. Then I got depressed because I spent my day off job searching, as my zoo job will be coming to an end in a couple short months. You know what I need? I need to go outside.

That's why I'm sitting on the "balcony" of the second floor overlooking the street - sure, it's not green space, and the sun has gone down, but in the distance I can see the last bit of sunset dimming in the horizon. Frogs, cicadas, and crickets are making a spectacular chorus, and my street has lots of trees on it - I can see the outline of the trunks and leaves in the dark. A bat just flew over my head, and there's a cool breeze courtesy of this very lovely weather we've been having recently in St. Louis. I can even see a few stars shining in the sky. Even in the middle of the city, I'm surrounded by those comforting sounds and smells and sensations of nature.

It's easy to forget that these urban areas are ecosystems all in their own. My roommate hates the squirrels that come into the yard and eat the garden, and he is irked by the carpenter bees that have made homes in his deck (and I promise, that pollinator post IS coming!). I'm tempted to put a bird feeder in the backyard, but then I'd just be adding to a local food chain -attracting cats and hawks and all sorts of things that would very much like to eat the buffet of song birds caught off guard.

Ironically, my neighbors, who probably are drinking wine on their balcony enjoying the night ambiance, are probably more than a little annoyed at the fact that I've come outside and am illuminating the space 20 feet away from them with the light from my lap-top and the incessant "tick-a-tap-tick" of my typing. Sorry, neighbors. I'm just enjoying the grandeur of our little urban paradise in my own way.

Quiet, introspective moments like these are one of my favorite things in life to experience. It's also a good time to remind myself that life is a balance of progress and natural order - that if I want to maintain these comfortable, small segments of time and experience them again, I need to bring that balance to my own life. Recycle, conserve, observe, enjoy the awe of the little things that make this so very urban and yet so...so... Midwest (and I say that in the most loving way possible) all at once. And I love that St. Louis seems dedicated to maintaining this balance, as well. Community gardens are not uncommon, at least in this neck of the city, and the Zoo and Botanical Gardens are two of the top attractions (as well as major players in conservation and education, of course). Many of the neighborhoods are old but look like they're straight out of 1903. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside - the history, the nature, the progress, even the work that still needs to be done -it all adds up to this beautiful evening that I'm writing about now.

So what if the 757 flying overhead on its way to Lambert Airport harmonizes with the choir of frogs? Of course it isn't a perfect balance yet, but in this moment, on my balcony, it's pretty close.

It's hot and I wish I had ossicones (or at least a pool)

For my first post back at Walk With Nature, I was going to talk about the importance of pollinators. I've really grown to love our backyard friends, especially the little understood native bee species that help our gardens and fields look amazing and grow amazing food.

However, I became sidetracked last night about 5 sentences in and then today I was flat out too hot to do anything worthwhile on the internet. For someone who loves the outdoors and nature as much as I do, I was ready to curl into a ball in the freezer and curse the sun for the blazing hot madness that is the inside of my apartment. I believe the heat index hit around 105 today.

I know what you're saying. "But Erin! You went to college in central Florida! You've spent many summers in the Midwest! At least its not a drought like it was last year!". You, my protesting friend, are absolutely correct. That doesn't change the fact that when it gets really hot, it gets miserable.

Do you know what kangaroos do to cope with the extreme heat of the Australian Outback? Other than being primarily active at night, they spit on their forearms and rub that spit on their faces, then face the wind and as the spit evaporates, it cools them (much like sweat does, only without the gross part where it secretes from all over your body). They're already built for that heat, though - it can get to be 120 degrees in the Outback. At my job, we simulate the 'roo experience by having kids put "kangaroo spit" on their hands and hold them up to the breeze. Think it might smell like hand sanitizer? Well, now you know where hand sanitizer comes from.

We are not kangaroos. Nor are we camels. Camels have specialized blood cells that are more oval as opposed to our own circular ones. That means they can have adequate blood flow even when substantially dehydrated because their red blood cells are streamlined even when the vessel is constricted. We totally can't do that. I feel like I would do a lot better in the heat if I knew I had some leeway before, you know, death.

Sadly, we don't have ossicones like giraffes, either. You know, those little horn thingies on their heads that may help with thermoregulation (because they actually have blood flow through them). Too hot? Just pump that nonsense right out of your permanent doodle-boppers.

Ultimately, it's those privileged few who have the luxury of accessing a swimming pool that really stay cool during the blistering heat. You don't even have to swim; just stand there and enjoy the shade. One thing does bother me, though; do tigers wrinkle if left in the water too long? With a heat index of 105 degrees, it doesn't really matter. I don't think I'd EVER leave. Unless, of course, I was sharing my pool with a tiger. Then I'd feel as though I've overstayed my welcome. Better yet for our tigre amigo? He doesn't even have to get out to get himself a nice cold tasty drink.

No, sadly, I do not have any of these things at my disposal. Sweating is just the worst because it smells awful on top of being uncomfortable - really, ossicones were the way to go, I think. Which is why I'm sitting in a dark room, drinking frozen cucumber water (since we don't have an ice maker and I have used up the completely frozen ice in the ice tray) and lamenting what feels like an inevitable fiery-yet-humid death.

I know I'm being a bit melodramatic; hey, at least I'm not out on the trail, right?

I have absolutely no experience with heat when it comes to camping; somehow, all of my misadventures in the wilderness involving temperature are with cold weather (refer back to Grand Canyon camping 2012). I'll have to do some research into how to stay cool during a particularly warm night on the trail.

Andrew and I are going camping in Southern Missouri next month, and then a week after that some of my coworkers and I will be camping. It'll be a good way to find out how, exactly, one doesn't sweat to death over night. Since hiking the Appalachian Trail is still on our to-do list, I think this is the kind of knowledge that REALLY matters. Stay tuned for part 2 (coming after said camping adventures) where I discuss what I've learned.

Here'a picture of a totes relaxed kangaroo, just rubbing in the fact that he can tolerate the weather better than myself (who, from his point of view, probably looks like some poor human who has succumbed to some sort of sweaty zombie-ism). Stay cool, everyone!