Category Archives: Home Landscapes

Winter Storm Fern & the Quiet Resilience of an Old Spruce

biodiversity, birds, ecosystems, Home Landscapes, , ,

Winter Storm Fern moved through the Capital Region with wind, cold, and a heavy blanket of snow. For most of us, it meant shovels, forecasts, and staying put.

For the land, it meant a test.

In my side yard — part of what I call the Dodson Bird Observatory — an old spruce tree and a hedgerow stood exactly where they’ve stood for decades. Snow piled deep around them. Wind pressed hard from the open side. And yet, they did what they’ve always done.

They held.

The spruce, with its dense, layered branches, breaks the wind and creates pockets of calmer air beneath it. In winter, those pockets matter. Birds don’t need warmth so much as relief — relief from wind, exposure, and constant energy loss. The lower limbs, heavy with snow, still provide shelter where life can pause, even briefly.

The hedgerow does something just as important, though it’s less obvious. It catches drifting snow, softens the edge between open space and forest, and creates protected zones at ground level. Beneath the snow, life continues — insects, seeds, small mammals — all part of a food web that doesn’t stop just because the landscape looks frozen.

What struck me during this storm wasn’t drama, but steadiness.

No intervention.
No maintenance.
No management plan pinned to a clipboard.

Just long-established structure doing what it was shaped to do.

This is one of the quiet lessons the land offers in winter:
resilience is often already in place — if we allow it to remain.

The Dodson Bird Observatory isn’t about rare species or grand design. It’s about paying attention to what works, where you live, and choosing not to erase it in the name of neatness or convenience.

Winter Storm Fern will pass.
The snow will melt.
The spruce and the hedgerow will still be here.

And so will the life that depends on them.

The Beauty and Conservation Value of Paper Birch

biodiversity, ecosystems, Home Landscapes, Native Plants, nature conservation, ,

On my recent hike around the Five Rivers Environmental Education Center in Delmar, New York, I stopped to admire this striking Paper Birch (Betula papyrifera). Its white, peeling bark stood out against the darker trunks of surrounding trees, catching the soft autumn light. Paper Birch is one of those species that instantly sparks curiosity—its bark looks almost like sheets of paper curling off, and indeed, people have found countless uses for it over centuries.

But beyond its beauty and history, the Paper Birch plays an important role in a conservation landscape.

Native Range and Habitat

Paper Birch is native to much of northern North America, stretching across Canada and into the northern United States, including the Adirondacks and northeastern hardwood forests of New York. It thrives in cooler climates, often colonizing recently disturbed areas such as old fields, burn sites, or logged woods. As a pioneer species, it is one of the first trees to take hold after disturbance, stabilizing soil and preparing the way for other species in the successional process.

Ecological Benefits

Paper Birch provides critical benefits to wildlife:

  • Food Source:
    The seeds are eaten by finches, siskins, and other seed-eating birds. Moose and deer browse on young birch twigs, while snowshoe hares and beavers rely on the bark and shoots for food in lean months.

  • Habitat:
    The peeling bark provides cover for insects, which in turn feed woodpeckers and other insectivorous birds. Cavities in older birches can become nesting sites for chickadees and nuthatches.

  • Pollinator Value:
    Birch catkins release pollen that sustains early spring pollinators when other resources are scarce.

Conservation and Human Connections

For centuries, Indigenous peoples of North America used Paper Birch bark for canoes, shelters, and containers, taking advantage of its light weight and natural waterproofing. Even today, naturalists admire its bark as one of the best fire-starting materials in the woods—it burns hot even when damp.

From a conservation perspective, Paper Birch is a reminder of resilience and transition. It doesn’t live as long as oaks or maples, but its ecological role is just as vital. By providing food, shelter, and succession pathways, birch helps ensure that forests remain dynamic and diverse.

Paper Birch in Conservation Landscapes

If you’re thinking about creating a conservation-friendly landscape, Paper Birch can be a valuable addition, particularly in northern climates. It offers:

  • Visual appeal with its white bark and bright yellow fall foliage.

  • Wildlife value through seeds, twigs, and bark.

  • Diversity in habitat by supporting insects and birds that rely on peeling bark and canopy cover.

While it prefers cooler soils and doesn’t tolerate long-term heat stress (making it less suited for southern plantings), in places like upstate New York, it can be an excellent choice to bring both beauty and biodiversity to a landscape.

Closing Thought

Standing among the Paper Birches at Five Rivers, I was reminded of how every tree—no matter how common or short-lived—serves as a keystone for the life around it. The Paper Birch may not dominate the forest for centuries, but in its decades of life, it provides essential resources that ripple through the ecosystem.

That, in itself, is a lesson in conservation: sometimes the most important contributions are those that prepare the way for others.

The Rain Knows What It’s Doing

biodiversity, birds, Communities, ecosystems, Home Landscapes, nature conservation, Neighborhoods,

A Reflection from Just Down the Road in Upstate New York

By Ron Dodson

Sometimes, nature writes the best stories. You just have to walk down the road to read them.

The photo above was taken just a short stroll from our home in upstate New York. While the scene might suggest calm and quiet, the story behind it is one of relentless rain and resilience. Since November 2024, we’ve had rain nearly every weekend—steady, sometimes unrelenting. For months, it felt like we were living in a stretched-out season of puddles and mud.

But now, looking out over this meadow in June, you can see what the rain has been up to.

The fields are lush and bursting with green—every shade you can imagine. The grasses are tall, the wetland margins thick with sedges and reeds. Wildflowers and forbs are pushing up wherever there’s a sliver of light. Even the trees, stretching in layers toward the horizon, look as if they’ve drunk their fill and are ready for the next chapter of the growing season.

And while it might have dampened our plans, the rain made this place a sanctuary.

Migratory birds have arrived in full voice, their songs layered over the steady hum of insects and frogs. Red-winged blackbirds cling to cattails, swallows swoop low over the wet patches, and warblers flicker like thoughts through the understory. The marshy lowlands that might once have seemed impassable are now teeming—alive with the quiet work of renewal.

There’s something deeply reassuring about that.

We often forget that seasons aren’t just about us—the plans we make, the weekends we hope to spend dry and comfortable. For the land, the long wet spring has been a gift. A drink after drought. A healing balm. An invitation to grow again.

This place—this field, this view—is not exceptional in the way a national park or a famous wildlife refuge might be. It’s just a piece of ordinary land at the edge of a rural road. But to those who live nearby, and to the creatures who pass through, it is home. It is a promise kept.

And maybe that’s the real nature of things: when we learn to see beauty in the overlooked, in the soggy corners and weedy edges, we come a little closer to understanding our place in the world. The rain may have changed our routines, but it also gave us this.

Let’s not forget to be grateful.

The Cleanup Crew: Why Crows Were Flipping Over Leaves in Your Yard

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My wife Theresa recently noticed a group of crows in our front yard flipping over a pile of leaves left from winter, you might have wondered what they were up to. While it may have looked like mischief, those crows were actually on a purposeful mission—one rooted in survival, intelligence, and nature’s built-in clean-up crew. It is the nature of things.

Crows: The Clever Foragers

Crows (part of the corvid family) are among the most intelligent birds in the world. They have problem-solving skills, can use tools, and often work together in groups to find food. During the colder months, food can be scarce, so crows take advantage of any opportunity to scavenge for meals, especially in early spring when nature is waking back up.

A pile of leaves that has sat through the winter becomes an all-you-can-eat buffet for these resourceful birds. Here’s why:

What’s Hiding Under the Leaves?

Over the winter, leaves create a damp, warm environment, perfect for insects, worms, and other small creatures to take shelter. As the weather warms, these hidden critters become more active, and crows know that turning over leaves will expose a feast of:

  • Grubs and Beetles – Many beetle species lay their eggs in the soil in fall, and by spring, their larvae (grubs) are plump and ready for a crow’s meal.
  • Earthworms – Moist leaf litter keeps the ground underneath from drying out too quickly, making it a hotspot for worms.
  • Spiders and Small Invertebrates – Many tiny creatures use leaf piles for winter shelter, and when crows start digging, they have nowhere to hide.

Crows have excellent memories and strong observational skills, so if they’ve found food in leaf piles before, they’ll keep checking similar spots in the future.

Crows and the Natural Cleanup Process

While their foraging may look like a bit of a mess, crows are actually helping your yard. By flipping over and scattering old leaves, they:

  • Aerate the Soil – Loosening compacted leaf piles allows moisture and oxygen to reach the ground, benefiting plant growth.
  • Control Pests – By eating grubs and insects, they reduce populations of lawn and garden pests, like Japanese beetle larvae.
  • Speed Up Decomposition – Their movement helps break up the leaves, allowing them to decompose faster and return nutrients to the soil.

Essentially, crows are doing a natural job that mimics what gardeners do when they turn compost or rake leaves to enrich their soil.

Should You Let Them Do Their Work?

If you don’t mind a little temporary mess, letting crows sift through your leaf piles can be beneficial. They’re performing natural pest control and soil enrichment for free! However, if you prefer to keep things tidier, consider:

  • Spreading out the leaves yourself – This can help accelerate decomposition while still providing food for birds.
  • Composting them – A contained compost pile will still attract beneficial insects but won’t be as much of a visual mess.
  • Letting nature take its course – Crows will finish their foraging quickly and move on.

Crows: Not Just Scavengers, But Ecosystem Helpers

While some people see crows as nuisance birds, they play an important role in ecosystems. They clean up roadkill, disperse seeds, control insect populations, and even recognize individual humans—sometimes leaving small “gifts” in return for kindness.

So, the next time you see a group of crows turning over your leaves, take a moment to appreciate them as nature’s cleanup crew. They’re just making a living—while helping your yard in the process.

A Warm Winter Walk on Waldenmaier Road

biodiversity, ecosystems, Home Landscapes, nature conservation, Neighborhoods, , ,

December 29, 2024

There’s something special about walking down Waldenmaier Road on a mild winter day. Today was one of those days when nature seemed to take a deep breath and pause between seasons, blurring the lines of winter’s reign. My wife and I decided to stroll despite the drizzle and the low clouds that scuttled across the sky, blowing steadily from south to north.

The road felt quiet but not empty. Beside our home stretches the 50-acre field we’ve known so well. It was cloaked in a clean, white sheet of snow for weeks, reflecting the light of shorter days and colder nights. But the recent rains and unseasonably warm 50-degree temperatures have stripped it bare, leaving behind a patchwork of brown and gold grass, damp and glistening under the overcast sky. It’s the kind of winter brown that reminds you the earth is resting, not lifeless—preparing itself for the blooms of spring.

As we walked, the view of the Helderberg Escarpment unfolded before us, hazy and mystical in the distance. It’s one of my favorite sights, no matter the season. Today, the escarpment was wrapped in low-hanging clouds that seemed to drift like veils over the peaks, partially hiding the majesty of John B. Thacher State Park. The cliffs appeared darker than usual, as if the rain had deepened their hue, but they stood steadfast, a reminder of time and resilience.

Even in the stillness of winter, nature abounds. Along the roadside, tufts of hardy grasses pushed through the damp soil. Birds—mostly sparrows and juncos—flitted in and out of the bare hedgerows, their feathers puffed against the cool, wet breeze. A red-tailed hawk soared above the field, its broad wings cutting through the layers of gray sky, scanning the ground for movement. The hawk reminded me that life doesn’t stop just because the earth is quieter and colder. It adapts and carries on.

The wind began to blow steadily as we walked, but it didn’t bother us. There’s comfort in the rhythm of the few remaining brown leaves hanging from the trees. My wife and I talked about everything and nothing, savoring the simplicity of the moment. It’s amazing how a walk can make the world feel bigger and smaller all at once.

We paused near the edge of the field, where the road bends slightly, offering a better view of the escarpment. I found myself grateful for days like this. Even in the heart of winter, the landscape hums with quiet vitality. The field, the hills, the trees—everything is alive, even if it’s resting or waiting.

As we turned back toward home, I caught a glimpse of a flock of geese flying low, their honks echoing faintly through the misty air. I smiled, thinking how they were following their rhythms, adjusting to the weather, just as we all do.

Back at our door, with damp coats and warm hearts, I realized that this walk was more than just a stroll. It reminded us how deeply we’re connected to the place we call home and the seasons that shape our days. Even on a warm winter day like this, with its soft rains and muted colors, nature has a way of speaking—if we take the time to listen.

A Flash of Red in a Field of White

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As I was sitting in my office, staring out the window during the blizzard we recently had, I noticed something beautiful in the midst of all the dreary winter weather. There, perched on a snow-covered shrub, was a stunning adult male cardinal.

It was as if the bird knew I needed a little pick-me-up on this gray day. Its bright red feathers stood out against the white snow, and the crest on top of its head added an extra touch of elegance. I couldn’t help but stop and watch the bird for a few moments, taking in its beauty.

Seeing the cardinal in its natural habitat was a reminder of how amazing nature can be, even amid a cold and dreary winter day. There are still little moments of beauty that can bring us a moment of joy.

As I watched the cardinal fly away, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the little things in life that can bring us so much happiness. It’s important to take a moment to appreciate the beauty around us, even if it’s just a glimpse of a stunning bird through an office window.

So, if you’re feeling a little down today, look outside and see if you can spot something beautiful. Who knows, you’ll catch a glimpse of some beautiful birds too. It is the nature of things!

New Year – New Goals!

biodiversity, Communities, Home Landscapes, nature conservation, Neighborhoods, Parks & Sanctuaries, Wildlife & Plants

A belated Happy New Year!

I spent the last month or so of 2021 thinking seriously about what I have been doing over the past few years and have come to the decision that I have not been doing the things that I really want to do. So…I am changing my focus and my direction. What I am actually doing is “re-focusing” on my life-long mission connected with nature conservation and to get more people involved with nature where they live, work, and play. With that, I also believe that we all must truly “Think Global and Act Local.”

So, to “think global” I have created the Natural Communities Campaign. The Ultimate goal is to protect 50% of the Earth by the year 2050 as protected areas and reverse the tremendous downward spiral we are witnessing at present in the loss of biodiversity. To learn more click: Half-Earth.

An interim goal for the Natural Communities Campaign is to support the global effort underway to secure the protection of biologically rich areas of Earth to the tune of 30% of the planet by the year 2030, which is being called the 30X30 Project. Through the Natural Communities Campaign website and blog, I will be providing ongoing information about global biodiversity matters and updates on progress being made regarding the 30X30 project.

To bring the 30X30 global goal down to a national and local level, I have launched an initiative called Conservation Landscapes for America. Through the Conservation Landscapes for America website and blog, I will be providing information about the 30X30 Project in the United States and well as supporting and showcasing government agencies, non-government agencies, and private landowners who are practicing conservation landscape management on the lands and waters that they are responsible for.

 

In addition to the biodiversity-related goals, another main goal is to get more people involved in nature and natural resource management where they live, work, and play. I hope that the information provided on the two websites mentioned above will become a “one-stop-shop” of sorts for information about nature, biodiversity efforts, resources that people can use to start or grow their own nature-based initiatives at home, in their communities, their counties, regions, etc.

Finally, this Nature of Things website and blog will be managed as a “portal” to the two other websites mentioned, but the Nature of Things blog will focus on my personal nature and biodiversity efforts in three local regions in the United States; the Capital Region of New York, the Tampa Bay Region of Florida and the Southwestern Region of Indiana.

Birdhouse Paradise of Bill Larkin

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August 2020 – Loogootee, Indiana

Bill’s “yard”

Just a short drive down the road from the Dodson Family Camp in Loogootee is quite an interesting place and person to visit. Bill Larkin lives in a geodesic dome house and absolutely loves to build birdhouses, and I mean LOVES to build birdhouses.

The yard around Bills home is literally covered with birdhouses of all shapes and sizes and those are accentuated by loads and loads of brilliantly painted rocks and various sorts of statues. It is an annual field trip for us when we are back home again in Indiana. This year, Eric, Jody, Jude, and Brody went along with us. I think the grandboys were overwhelmed, to say the least.

In addition to the huge display around the outside of Bill’s house, the inside is also festooned with birdhouses and thousands of twinkling Christmas lights. Bill always gets a kick out of watching the kid’s eyes light up when he claps his hands loudly and the house is filled with the sounds of chirping birds coming from hundreds of mechanical birds spread throughout his house.

Bill hosts visitors to his small home on a nearly daily basis, including busloads of tourists who have heard about his display somehow. He not only does not charge a penny to visit, but he also gives all his visitors a small hand-painted birdhouse to take with them as a memento of their visit.

I would say that Bill Larkin is certainly a “one of a kind” fellow. At least I do not know of anyone else who is so steeped in a similar life mission and he seems happy about life in general.

(I enjoyed this video that someone put together a couple of years back and posted on YouTube.)

New Years Day 2020 – Dismal First of the Year Bird Count

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With the start of a new year and a new decade, I plan on and increased effort at blogging about my regular “field trips” into nature.

Therefore, I decided to start with a morning walk down the country road where we live with the round trip being about 1 mile. This short walk down a paved road transects several different types of habitat areas, including an open field of about 50 acres, some shrubby grassland areas, a nice woodlot, a meandering stream, and associated wetlands.

New Years Day, 2020 in our neck of the woods, was a bit brisk and cloudy. The temperature during my walk was around 34 F., with a slight wind. I have to say that the wildlife results of my walk were a bit disappointing. I hope this is not an indication of things to come.

As soon as I walked out the front door, I saw some movement in the old fence row that is beside our house and field and quickly spotted a House Finch and 4 House Sparrows. (So…my first “Bird of the Year” was a House Finch.)

With that, I started my leisurely walk down the road of 1/2 mile to the East and the intersection with a major highway, where I turn around and walk back to the house. All the way to the highway and about 3/4 of the way back to the house…I never heard and never saw 1 bird! Nothing…not one. About 200 yards before getting back to the house I spotted a lone Blue Jay fly across the road and land in a tree for a few seconds. Walking another 25 yards I noticed a Red-tailed Hawk perched on top of an old power pole that is located in the olf fence row beside our house. I walked just a bit past our house to check a small stream and wetland area across the street from home…and saw or heard nothing.

So the summary of this mile-long walk-in “nature” is a total of 7 birds of 4 species! Not a Chickadee, not a Cardinal, not a Morning Dove…I know it is winter…but that is pretty bad. The pictures below I took while walking as a documentation of where this walk took place. If you look closely at one picture you can sort of make out the Red-tail on top of the old power pole…and a blurry one of the hawk after it flew off and over the road.

A Snag is a Beautiful Thing

Communities, Golf Courses, Home Landscapes, Neighborhoods, Parks & Sanctuaries, Wildlife & Plants

I go for a series of short walks down the road where we live most days during the summer. In the winter when the snow is piled over my head on the side of the road…not so much. But, since we live in the country, my walks always allow me to see and hear some sights and sounds of nature.

Nature comes in many shapes and sizes. One part of nature that I have been observing over the past few years never moves and I have never heard it make any sound whatsoever. But still, this part of nature is very valuable for many reasons. It goes by many names, but I call it a snag.

Yes, that would be a dead or dying tree. Death is a part of life and with trees, the dead and dying provide many environmental benefits, most of which are not really appreciated.

In forest ecology, a snag refers to a standing, dead or dying tree, often missing a top or most of the smaller branches. In freshwater ecology, it refers to trees, branches, and other pieces of naturally occurring wood found sunken in rivers and streams.

Snags are an important structural part of forest communities, making up 10–20% of all trees present in old-growth tropical, temperate, and boreal forests. Snags and downed coarse woody debris represent a large portion of the woody biomass in a healthy forest.

In temperate forests, snags provide critical habitat for more than 100 species of birds and mammals and are often called ‘wildlife trees’ by foresters. Dead, decaying wood supports a rich community of decomposers like bacteria and fungi, insects, and other invertebrates. These organisms and their consumers, along with the cavities, hollows, and broken tops make snags important habitat for birds, bats, and small mammals, which in turn feed larger mammalian predators.

Snags are an optimal habitat for primary cavity nesters such as woodpeckers which create most cavities used by secondary cavity users in forest ecosystems. Woodpeckers excavate cavities for more than 80 other species and the health of their populations relies on snags. Most snag-dependent birds and mammals are insectivorous and represent a major portion of the insectivorous forest fauna and are important factors in controlling forest insect populations. There are many instances in which birds reduced outbreak populations of forest insects, such as woodpeckers affecting outbreaks of southern hardwood borers and spruce beetles.

Every tree dies eventually, and its ecological value continues long after the last leaf falls. Whether it still stands, is reduced to a hollowed stump, or exists as downed wood, most of its “life” occurs in a complex, interesting, unseen world. Imagine a time-share that is used by different species, for vastly different purposes, in every stage of its demise. Most species that use snags are associated with those that are about 15” in diameter though there are many benefits from smaller trees too. No man-made structure matches the ecological usefulness of a sizeable dead tree; and few living things are as overlooked and unappreciated, except of course by wildlife and the vast number of inhabitants at work on its remains beneath the soil.

Nature “gifts” dying trees to enrich habitats. A dead tree is a legacy that can take dozens of years to replace, and in many cases, it will never be replaced. Whenever a tree is cut down needlessly and hauled away prematurely, we short-change our forests and our planet. Dead trees represent one of the finest examples of nature giving back to the environment. A study of a snags relationship with wildlife and organisms above and beneath the soil is a profound example of the fact that individuality and independence within our ecosystems is an illusion.