A Premature Requiem

I was feeling melancholy walking the Greenway this recently.

The area covered by the proposed zones and standards,
outlined in red. The Greenway and wetlands are at the
right edge of the area.

On Wednesday, the city held a report-out on the new "Form-Based Zones and Standard for the South District," which are to guide development in the currently open fields that surround the southern portion of the Greenway. These stated goals of project and the proposed regulations include creating walkable communities with connected streets and paths, while also preserving "important environmental resources" and designating a variety of acceptable, low- to mid-density housing types.

I can't fault the city for its attention to detail and how carefully they have solicited feedback from area residents and stakeholders, and it appears the consulting firm they have been working with has done a fine job of creating a vision for a nice place where people will want to live. They answered questions from area residents concerned about parking and speed limits, and reassured folks that there would be no tall or disproportionate buildings permitted.

But the slide they showed with a possible development plan--carving up every single open field and packing it with residential blocks and streets--was something of a gut punch. The tiny green squares left as "natural spaces" seemed...tiny.

I know, I have always known, that development would catch up to the edge of town. I've been told to assume that any open space in Iowa will eventually be developed unless it is bought and protected. The inexorable development of our state, with less than 1% of our iconic tallgrass prairie remaining, makes me appreciate even more those organizations whose purpose is to preserve and protect our natural spaces: Bur Oak Land Trust, with properties in and around Johnson County, and the Iowa Natural Heritage Foundation, throughout the state. 

You wonder if the narrow strips of habitat that will be left along the Greenway will be enough to lure our summer friends the Dickcissel and Eastern Meadowlark to stay and raise their families. Will all the building and bustle drive away the family of Sandhill Cranes that has made its home near the wetlands for a decade or more? Will the wetlands themselves, currently a birding hotspot, remain a draw for migrating waterfowl and shorebirds? What of all the new hazards faced by tiny baby snapping turtles as they try to cross more and wider roads?

It may be many years before all those fields are filled in. Maybe there will be quaint neighborhood shops and friendly people enjoying those walkable communities and appreciating the Greenway that remains. Maybe there will be enough open space still to tempt those Dickcissels back for the summer, despite the close proximity of attractively-proportioned human housing. Maybe the final design will offer more of an opportunity to share our habitat with those who were there first than the example slide showed. 

Maybe. Hopefully.

In the meantime, there is solace in the aforementioned land trusts, and our existing city and county parks and natural areas. We are fortunate to live in a place that, while not anywhere near balancing the needs of wildlife with those of humans, at least understands the importance of these natural places for humans, for recreation and comfort for our souls, and wildlife is able to reap some of those benefits in the incidental preservation of their habitat.

The city and its residents stand to gain a lot with the development of this area. But what we lose, we lose forever. Let's hope that the loss will be minimal, and all possible steps are taken to ensure it is so.

Sandhill Cranes foraging one of the fields slated for development.

Project Feederwatch!

This Saturday begins this year's annual Project Feederwatch, a great opportunity to put the time you spend looking out at your yard to use for citizen science. Join more than 20,000 bird-lovers, bird-watchers, and seed-enthusiasts in observing and counting the birds that show up to feeders in your yard throughout the cold winter months.

A program of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology (an amazing resource for all things bird), Project Feederwatch has been around for more than thirty years, gathering data on trends in winter bird populations with the help of interested citizens. Participants can spend as much or as little time as they like: sit at your window for hours and count, or just glance out the window every time you pass by each weekend. Or one weekend a month. Or once a year! Even better to take part year after year, to see how the species and numbers change over time.

In previous years I may have...complained? opined? at the dearth of species in and around my yard, located in a newer subdivision with few large trees. My previous neighborhood, with a canopy of huge oaks, sycamores and other venerables, brought a delightful array of woodpeckers, chickadees, titmice, and other winter regulars whereas the new place...house sparrows. And a few mourning doves.

A map of my data from last season

Last winter, however, I embraced my sparrow-friendly habitat and, instead of using just a tube feeder and a small platform, I began scattering sunflower hearts widely around the space in front of the garden. It was close enough to the cover of the standing stems for birds to feel safe, but open enough for me to see and count from an upstairs window. With the food availability spread beyond the two small feeders, I was treated to...sparrows. But wait! Not just the usual clan of House Sparrows but also Dark-eyed Juncos, Song Sparrows, American Tree Sparrows, and my favorite prize of all, a single Eurasian Tree Sparrow.

Each week would bring the same House Sparrows and Mourning Doves. But some days the wider group would show, including my Eurasian Tree Sparrow as well as what appeared to be an Oregon form of Dark-eyed Junco, with a black hood and chestnut sides. It was a little motivation to keep the seed stocked and check out the window regularly, in hopes of catching sight of one of these less-regular visitors.

So each week I collect my data, and enter it into the Project Feederwatch site. My data, along with data from all the other feederwatchers across the continent, is available to explore. For example, there were around 60 count sites in Iowa reporting data last year; you can see a breakdown of all the species counted over the course of the winter. You can also view your own data year over year; I am looking forward to seeing more cardinals and chickadees in coming years as our neighborhood trees grow, but in the meantime I can enjoy my hardy sparrow friends.

If you don't yet participate in Project Feederwatch, consider it! A participation fee of $18 offsets the costs of the participant's kit, and offers access to tons of information and helpful hints for identifying birds...not to mention helping to collect valuable data about bird populations right in your own neighborhood. You don't need to be an expert at bird identification (they provide a poster with commonly-seen birds when you sign up), just interested in watching the birds outside your window.

Eurasian Tree Sparrow at right

Take some time today

What a different world it is when you slow down!

When I traverse the Greenway by bicycle, or on a run, it is simple a means of conveyance. I zip (or quickly lumber, if enjoying a run) past the familiar catalpas and sumacs, noting at a glance which flowers have stopped blooming and which leaves are beginning to turn. Without slowing down, I greet the cardinals chipping in the brush and the quiet tap-tap-tap of the little downy woodpecker foraging on stems down in the now-dry cells.

I will often bring the camera in my little bicycle basket and stop to take pictures if something catches my eye. But the threshold for eye-catching is so much higher on a bicycle, having to stop, dismount, prop up the vehicle, pick up the camera, remove the lens cap, and get the subject in focus! If it was a bird or butterfly, chances are it has already moved out of view by the time I get the camera to my eye.

So I find myself just passing the world by, and making excuses as I do. Oh, there's a monarch. Stop? Nah, I've got plenty of photos of them this month. The sun looks pretty glinting off those leaves...stop? No, a photo wouldn't do it justice.

And those are just the things I notice. How many more tiny lives escape our sight when we move quickly through our neighborhood? What appears to be an empty aster from a distance turns out to be hosting a little female Melissodes bee, with luxuriously lengthy leg hairs. On foot, she is the focus of intense scrutiny for a minute or more. By bicycle? Completely unseen.

Or the distant buckeye, backlit against the afternoon sun. At a walking pace, there is time to admire the way the light shines through the light spots on its wings as it balances briefly on a spent flower. On wheels--invisible.

Traveling by foot can be an exercise in mindfulness, an immersion into things normally unseen and an experience of all the life that surrounds us day by day.

Slow down. Look around. Experience the world, don't just pass it by.