Ed Robinson

It is curious how we develop affection for certain species in the natural world. Whether flowers, birds or butterflies, we all have our favorites. As with Daniel Boone long ago, I have a warm spot in my heart for a long-lived, slow-growing giant that enhances the character of eastern forests: the American beech.

For years, my folks made the long drive from the Finger Lakes region of New York to take in the thrills and chills of the Fryeburg Fair in Maine. Dating from 1851, the fair is a major attraction for western Maine, with up to 300,000 attendees. Having grown up on a small hill farm, Dad loved the old steam-powered farm machines and the pulling contests among giant draft horses, like the famous Percherons and Clydesdales. The foliage of early October was a bonus for the trip.

At long last we had arrived. The plane banked low over the island for the final approach into the wind, providing our first view of a place we had dreamed of for 25 years. We were tired after 8,000 miles of travel but excited to finally experience the beauty, the wildlife and the welcoming people of this remote archipelago that stretches for 700 miles in the Indian Ocean.

We all have seen it, and most of us have done it. Enter a restaurant with friends, sit down, and within 20 seconds everyone whips out their "smart" phones. Watch a gaggle of young people anywhere and you'll wonder if their thumbs will require surgery by age 35. Pass a hiker or jogger on the trail and odds are good that person is wearing earbuds or headphones.

Journalism has changed markedly in my 73 years. In the past you could read many newspapers and be reasonably comfortable that the editors presented the facts without a strong bias in their reporting. Most of us relied upon the newspaper, along with trusted news anchors, to learn what was going on around the world. Sadly, that seems like ancient history, except for this newspaper.

What is it about snakes that causes people to cringe, recoil or shriek? These reactions can be caused by a photo or even the mere mention of a snake, let alone a live encounter with one. I have witnessed otherwise well-grounded folks running in panic from small garter snakes, so clearly there is a deep-seated trigger mechanism at work.

The birds kept coming, swarming in numbers I had never seen, flitting around in search of food. It was so intense that I could not maintain an accurate count of the visitors for my reporting to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology via the eBird app. Having just filled the feeders that morning, it was clear that I would soon be refilling them.

In early morning light, I spotted another gray animal hunkered down in the Havahart live trap. Probably another raccoon like the rest of the family members caught in recent days. The masked marauders had been tearing up big swatches of our grass looking for grubs; shame on me for not treating the grubs! But this animal had different coloration and a thick, bushy tail.

In past columns we reviewed the benefits of protecting the amazing diversity of creatures found in the environment. Mother Nature is the most creative and persistent biochemist ever, as evidenced by the stunning array of life systems and chemical compounds that have evolved over eons, and evolution continues in ways that we may not always appreciate.

After three mild winters, this year we have cold, snowy weather to satisfy our recreational needs. Currently we have a foot of snow in the yard, with another foot predicted for the next few days.