Over the past few years I have found myself writing in a lot of different places.

I have three Substack publications — Conservation Chronicles, Conservation Lifestyles, and The Nature of Things. I also have a blog on this website called Field Notes, along with various social media pages where I occasionally share thoughts and observations.

None of this is bad. Each platform has its own purpose. But recently I caught myself asking a simple question:

Why am I making writing more complicated than it needs to be?

After thinking about it for a while, I realized something that probably should have been obvious all along.

The place where everything should begin is Field Notes.

Field Notes Has Been Part of My Life for a Long Time

The name Field Notes is not new to me. In fact, it goes back many years.

When I helped re-launch the Audubon Society of New York State in the early 1980s, I created a printed newsletter and called it Field Notes. The name itself was inspired by the old Audubon Field Notes journal that birders once used to report observations across North America.

The idea behind it was simple.

Field Notes was a place to record observations, ideas, and reflections about nature and conservation.

Over time, my writing moved into many other forms — articles, columns, newsletters, reports, and more recently blogs and Substack publications. But when I step back and think about it, the simplest and most natural form of writing for me has always been field notes.

What Field Notes Will Be Going Forward

From now on, most of what I write will begin right here.

Field Notes will include observations and reflections about things such as:

• a walk at Hollyhock Hollow Sanctuary

• birds or plants I notice in our backyard

• ideas about conservation and stewardship

• community issues I am thinking about

• memories from earlier chapters of my life

• artifacts, fossils, and other things I have collected over the years

• projects I am working on or ideas I am exploring

In other words, whatever happens to be on my mind at the moment.

Some Field Notes will be short. Others may be longer reflections.

And many of them may simply remain Field Notes.

When a Field Note Becomes Something More

Occasionally a Field Note may grow into a larger piece.

If it relates to stories from my conservation career, it might become an article for Conservation Chronicles.

If it focuses on habitat, land stewardship, or environmental practices, it might evolve into something for Conservation Lifestyles.

If it deals with broader ideas about nature, biodiversity, or how people relate to the natural world, it may eventually become part of The Nature of Things.

But the important point is this:

Everything begins as a Field Note.

Writing as Observation

For most of my life I have kept some form of field notes.

When I was younger, they were notebooks filled with drawings of arrowheads and fossils I found in fields along the Ohio River.

Later they became notes about birds, nature centers, conservation programs, and community projects.

Writing has always been a way for me to observe, reflect, and connect ideas.

Field Notes simply continues that tradition.

The Rest Will Take Care of Itself

I’m not particularly concerned about building a large audience or managing complicated publishing systems.

If people read these notes and find them interesting or useful, that’s wonderful.

If not, that’s fine too.

For me, Field Notes is simply a place to capture thoughts about nature, community, conservation, and life as they occur.

Sometimes when you write things down, connections appear that you might not have noticed otherwise.

So this is a bit of a reset.

From now on, most of what I write will begin right here — in Field Notes.

— Ron Dodson

Earlier this week we had one of those surprising late-winter days that feels more like April than March. The temperature climbed to 73°F, which made it a perfect excuse to take a walk at Hollyhock Hollow Sanctuary.

There were still large piles of snow scattered through the woods, and most of the trails were far too muddy to walk. So instead, I followed the main road that winds through the sanctuary. Even with the snow lingering in places, the woods had that subtle feeling that winter is beginning to loosen its grip.

One of the things I hoped to see was whether the Snowdrops had started to appear. These small white flowers are often among the very first signs that spring is on the way.

Sure enough, tucked among the leaves and patches of melting snow, there they were.

Seeing the first Snowdrops each year always lifts my spirits a bit. They seem to carry a quiet message: winter isn’t over yet, but change has already begun.

The warm temperatures had another effect as well. With the snow melting quickly, Onesquethaw Creek had turned into a bubbling, tumbling torrent. The water rushed over rocks and around fallen logs as it made its way toward the Hudson River.