Autumn Stroll at Huntsville Alabama’s Goldsmith-Schiffman Wildlife Sanctuary!

On November 1, 2024, 72 days since my total right knee replacement surgery, I sauntered within Huntsville’s Goldsmith-Schiffman Wildlife Sanctuary with dear friends Marian Moore Lewis, Chris Stuhlinger, Bill and Becky Heslip, and Judy (my bride of 52 years)! I felt the lift of a new month, the freshness of an early fall day, and the joy of knowing that both knees (left replacement in January 2024) are far better than in late 2023. My recovery epitomizes the power of Nature-Buoyed Aging and Healing!

Where do I begin with my 26th Great Blue Heron photo essay dedicated to the Goldsmith-Schiffman Wildlife Sanctuary? I skimmed the list of the first 25 topics and foci. I found no reason for concern about repeating prior themes, photos, observations, and reflections. Nothing in Nature is static. Every parcel of the 400-acre sanctuary is unique. Change is constant across the hours of a day, the days of a week, the weeks of a month, the months, the seasons, the years…the decades…the centuries. Were I to live the years of Methuselah, I might publish a thousand GSWS photo essays without repetition.

Let’s start at the westside entrance on Taylor Road. The observation shelter 100 feet from the parking lot looks over Hidden Spring, where mountain water lifts from the ground, fills Hidden Spring Creek, flows into Jobala Pond, and then empties into the Flint River bordering the sanctuary.

Here’s my 60-second video from above Hidden Spring:

 

The rain-moistened, lichen-coated water oak trunk stands near the shelter. Even an overnight autumn rain transforms a single tree trunk, highlighting its lichen tint, which will once again dry during the day. The light will shift from dull morning stratus to peaks of bright sunshine. I could have stationed myself at the prior evening’s gloaming near this lone oak. I recorded 0.77″ of rain overnight. The stem at dusk was dry and remained unaffected by the rain until stemflow whetted it before dawn. Occasional photographs would have chronicled the process. Daylight came in form of easing rain, lots of canopy dripping, and wispy fog under thick stratus. Nothing in Nature is static; every moment has a story to tell. The world is like that, whether a natural tale or a human narrative.

 

The deck faces north into the wetland forest canopy 40 feet above the spring surface. Dripping, limited birdsong, lingering overcast and disruptive road noise gave little identity to the time of day (1:00 PM). Had I been beamed into the moment, all signals would have directed me mid-morning.

 

As we entered the Sanctuary, the persistent stratus lifted, the day brightened, and we accepted the reality that the day had moved beyond noon. Observations and reflections, both literal and philosophical, stimulate musings. Seventy-five years ago, Jobala Pond was a raw borrow pit where road engineers had mined gravel, sand, and clay for nearby road constructiion. Archival photos show a barren shoreline, a scar upon the land. Nature’s healing powers are nearly without limit. During my lifetime, Mount Saint Helens “destroyed” hundreds of square miles of blasted forest; today the acreage is green with vibrant young forest. Savage 2016 wildefires blackened 70,285 acres in Yellowsone National Park. When I toured the park just five years later, burned forests stood as blackened skeletons underlain by green carpets of new growth. John Muir aptly observed:

Earth has no sorrow that earth cannot heal.

Nature knows disturbance, for disturbance is the way of life and the architect of adaptation and evolution. And so it is with Jobala Pond, now a naturalized stream/pond ecosystem.

 

Here is the brief video I recorded along Hidden Spring Creek as it entered Jobala Pond.

 

Beavers are primary influencers of stream flow, function, and structure. Their 18-inch-high dam diagonally crosses the stream at left. A bark-stripped beaver-chew stem segment floats streamside at right.

 

A red swamp crayfish strenguously demanded some kind of passage toll, posing defensively as we approached. The crawdad, like the beaver, has no idea his habitat was once a destroyed landscape, transformed from an ugly worthless borrow pit to a vibrantly functioning natural ecosystem.

 

In the prime of my outdoor adventure life (say the 1980s), I would have scoffed at the notion of six (four in the photo and two others of us) ancient grandparents wandering and wondering in emerging wildness, once ignominously carved from pre-Columbian wilderness. Our shared vision is the guarantee of re-emergent wilderness in decades hence. My hope is that these photo essays will serve one small step toward ensuring that eventuality. Ninety years ago Louis Bromfield said of his efforts to restore his beloved Ohio Malabar Farm:

The adventure at Malabar is by no means finished… The land came to us out of eternity and when the youngest of us associated with it dies, it will still be here. The best we can hope to do is to leave the mark of our fleeting existence upon it, to die knowing that we have changed a small corner of this earth for the better by wisdom, knowledge and hard work.

 

As we reached the point where the creek broadens to Jobala Pond, the thick stratus began to break.

 

The serpentine water oak branch extending over the pond reflects perfectly on the still water.

 

The old iron gate adds a touch of nostalgia, harkening back to decades of agricultural production combatting seasonally saturated soils, periodic Flint River flooding, and marauding deer, raccoons, and other crop-consuming critters.

 

Roundleaf greenbrier produced a bumper crop of deep blue berries.

 

Similar in habit and appearance to greenbrier, Carolina snailseed (also known as Carolina moonseed and corbead) is a deciduous, woody vine that climbs with thin twining stems or scrambles along the ground, and primarily occurs in rocky open woods, wood margins, glades, fence rows, roadsides and stream/pond margin. Attractive features are its foliage and its autumn red berries!

 

Before departing the sanctuary, we drove to the east entrance.

 

To The Sanctuary’s East Side as Sunset Nears

 

The riparian forest comprises diverse species, straight boles, and stems reaching 100 feet. The Flint River floods much of the forest at least several times annually. Once farmed 70-80 years ago, the mixed forest regenerated naturally.

 

A stemflow-wetted beach trunk presented a parting lichen-painted visual gift.

 

Wildness is returning to the several hundred acre sanctuary. Preserved in perpetuity, wildness will transition in decades to an old growth forest condition. I won’t see that long-term result, yet I can take satisfaction knowing the process is underway.

Thoughts and Reflections

 

I offer these observations:

• The best we can hope to do is to leave the mark of our fleeting existence upon it, to die knowing that we have changed a small corner of this earth for the better by wisdom, knowledge and hard work. (Louis Bromfield)
• Nothing in Nature is static; every moment has a story to tell. The world is like that, whether a natural tale or a human narrative.
• Nature knows disturbance, for disturbance is the way of life and the architect of adaptation and evolution.

Inhale and absorb Nature’s elixir. May Nature Inspire, Inform, and Reward you!

If only more of us viewed our precious environment through the filters I employ. If only my mission and vision could be multiplied untold orders of magnitude:

Mission: Employ writing and speaking to educate, inspire, and enable readers and listeners to understand, appreciate, and enjoy Nature… and accept and practice Earth Stewardship.

Vision:

• People of all ages will pay greater attention to and engage more regularly with Nature… and will accept and practice informed and responsible Earth Stewardship.
• They will see their relationship to our natural world with new eyes… and will understand more clearly their Earth home.

Tagline/Motto: Steve (Great Blue Heron) encourages and seeks a better tomorrow through Nature-Inspired Living!

 

Steve’s Four Books

 

I wrote my books Nature Based Leadership (2016), Nature-Inspired Learning and Leading (2017), Weaned Seals and Snowy Summits: Stories of Passion for Place and Everyday Nature (2019; co-authored with Dr. Jennifer Wilhoit), and Dutton Land & Cattle: A Land Legacy Story (2023) to encourage all citizens to recognize and appreciate that every lesson for living, learning, serving, and leading is either written indelibly in or is powerfully inspired by Nature. All four of my books present compilations of personal experiences expressing my deep passion for Nature. All four books offer observations and reflections on my relationship with the natural world… and the broader implications for society. Order any from your local indie bookstore, or find them on IndieBound or other online sources such as Amazon and LifeRich.

I began writing books and Posts for several reasons:

• I love hiking and exploring Nature
• I see images I want to (and do) capture with my trusty iPhone camera
• I enjoy explaining those images — an educator at heart
• I don’t play golf!
• I do love writing — it’s the hobby I never needed when my career consumed me
• Judy suggested my writing is in large measure my legacy to our two kids, our five grandkids, and all the unborn generations beyond
• And finally, perhaps my books and Blogs could reach beyond family and touch a few other lives… sow some seeds for the future