The Tidepool Sculpin or Will I Survive as a "Cutesy Theme" Innept Naturalist

In class last night we were each handed a small note card. On the front of mine was a drawing of a Tidepool Sculpin and on the back was a variety of information about the Sculpin. Our assignment was to take our topical card - in my case the Tidepool Sculpin and create a theme based on some part of the information provided. Oh - did I mention your theme should be catchy? And there in was my problem. How would I ever come up with a catchy theme? I am not a catchy theme kind of person - trying to become one is like trying to climb a mountain on only my hands. All I could come up with was something to do with the Sculpin's place in the food chain - how it was both predator and pray. But that isn't catchy or the least bit creative. When I got home I shared my dilemma with my husband and immediately he tossed out a catchy, and yes, punny theme. "Tidepool dinners and diners" or something to that effect. I started to cry. Honestly, I did. I felt even more inadequate now. But there is a difference between my husband and I. He is always full of off hand silly puns which I spend a good deal of time rolling my eyes at or groaning over. For him - it comes naturally, for me…

However, I have had an experience concerning the Tidepool Sculpin that left a lasting impression on me. It was the summer of my sixth year and we were living in Lincoln City, on the Oregon coast. We had spent a day down on the beach, and I had been knee deep in the tide pools or leaning over reaching in as far as I could. This was the day I first recall really discovering the Tidepool Sculpin. (This is also the day I lost my purple jacket to the tide - but that's a different story.) At the time I didn't know that was what it was called. To me it was this incredibly interesting little fish that one moment wasn't there and then was revealed suddenly by its quick darting across the tide pools sandy bottom with the passing of a shadow over the pool or the sudden appearance of a six year olds foot in its home. As quickly as it appeared it again disappeared. And now it was a puzzle, a game. I was determined to find it again and even more determined to be able to see it even when it wasn't darting from one spot to the other. I wanted to uncover its secret. I am sure I spent any number of hours doing just that - completely unfazed by the freezing cold northern pacific ocean waters I was standing in. Towards the end of the day, I had become so fond of my new friend that I didn't care to part company. Since I was not likely to be allowed to live indefinitely in a tide pool on the beach, I got a cup from our picnic basket and somehow managed to catch my own little Tidepool Sculpin. It went home with me, and although I understood that it needed salt water - beyond that I had no knowledge of what this critter needed to survive. The result is probably obvious by now. My sculpin died. Somehow, even then, I knew that it had died because of me. That stuck with me. I no longer took tide pool creatures out of their homes, because I didn't want anymore to go the way of that sculpin.

Years later I learned much more about the Tidepool Sculpin's habitat. It needed the constant changing of waters that were provided by tide pools and with that change of water, a new supply of food. It would then be able to produce more sculpins, but only under the circumstances provided in the unique tide pool habitat. A cup - even of salt water - was no home for a sculpin or any other wild creature either. To live and thrive they needed to stay where they were or be provided a place of equal quality by those who had the means and training to do so - such as a well ran Aquarium.

I learned to just appreciate these and other creatures in their proper habitat. It is far more pleasant than having a new found friend die at your own hands. So, all though, I may not be able to come up with some cutesy theme to lead a program about the Tidepool Sculpin, I hope somehow I will still be an effective interpreter, to be able to communicate what I learned in a way that will successfully help others discover the wonders of the varied habitats around them and those creatures that call those habitats home. And to leave them there for others to enjoy in the future.

The Swans of the Union Bay Natural Area

I first spotted the 11 swans on Lake Washington back in late January. I had been birding in the Washington Park Arboretum and was making my way across the Foster Island boardwalk when I noticed several large white birds across the water towards the Union Bay Natural Area, commonly known as "The Fill" among local birders. I was stopped in my tracks - never had I seen Trumpeter Swans on Lake Washington. This was a rare treat, or I thought it was. But this group of birds decided to stick around and I saw them again only a few days later. Whenever I was walking in the area over the next couple weeks, people would see my binoculars and ask me if I had seen the swans - even non-birders were taking notice - but how could they not? Trumpeter Swans are graceful, elegant, and huge. They are hard to ignore, even for people who don't usually take a second look at birds. Now people were pausing in their jogs and walks to stop and appreciate the new Lake Washington residents.

Some time passed, and I didn't get out towards the Fill for a few weeks or at least not long enough to bird. So when I treated myself to a walk there last week I was pleased to find that rare visitors had stuck around - and they weren't being camera shy! All 11 were up close to shore last Friday afternoon and many a photographer was taking advantage of the fact. I, unfortunately (or fortunately if I consider I would have to carry it), don't have a fancy digiscope or huge SLR to take pictures of birds. However, I have learned to take shots with my little digital camera through my binoculars. They don't always turn out that great, but every once in a while I get something that will pass. Here are a few of those.

Discovery Park Docent Naturalist Program - Class of 2009

This past week brought the start of the Docent Naturalist Training at Discovery Park. I am among the dozen plus members of the class of 2009. We are an interesting bunch, with much in common, yet with very diverse backgrounds. Getting to know my classmates proves as interesting as the Docent training. This last Saturday we spent a gloriously sunny day exploring Discovery Park - first by van and then later on a fast paced hike with points of interest stops along the way. Of course I think every place in Discovery Park is a "point of interest" and worthy of a stop. Yet some are used more regularly by the park during its various education programs of which I and my classmates will eventually be leading. We had some exciting moments during our tours, including the meeting of Otto or maybe it is spelled "Auto". Either way, this bird would be the same by any other name. He's a handsome pheasant who seems to think he's a Border Collie or other breed of herding canine. He boldly rushed our passenger van and then after being shooed out of the way by the brave Ginger, a current park docent, chased the van and the car our fearless leader, Kit, was driving ahead of us. The story is that Otto is well known among park staff and volunteers, as well as those who live in the historical Officer Housing within the park. Kit was once cornered by the bold bird while driving through the park and was eventually rescued by a local resident who shooed the pheasant out of the road. I guess Otto takes his job seriously. If ever there is need for a road closure within the park I would think he would be a good enforcer.
We learned much about the history of the park as well as the lay out. I have been frequenting this park for many years now and am amazed at the little corners I have yet to explore or the bits of history I have yet to learn. I am looking forward to more adventures to come.

The Fibrous Fish

Today I watched a second year Glaucous-winged Gull treat a water-logged shred of cedar bark as if it was a prize fish. The gull picked it up from the edge of the surf, strutted about with it in his beak; then he sat it down and picked at it. When a first year Glaucous-winged moved in to see if he could have some too, the older gull snatched it back up, whipped his head away and strutted on down the beach. Was it a game? Was it practice? Was it wishful thinking? Whatever it was, it was certainly amusing.

A Walk with Otters

A half moon cove of
sand and pebbles,
driftwood,
and weeds of the sea.

From water like glass emerge
heads and whiskers,
wet,
curious critters following me.