ticks

By Melinda Wenner Moyer – a science writer based in Cold Spring, New York, and is Slate’s parenting advice columnist.

The ticks have arrived. So many, so tiny, so hungry. Friends from New York to Wisconsin are freaking out, pulling ticks off themselves daily, asking me how to keep these blood-sucking, disease-spreading menaces away. They turn to me because I’m a tick fiend: I’ve interviewed dozens of tick researchers and been to tick-borne disease conferences; I’ve covered the tick beat for Nature and Scientific American. I even started a tick Facebook group (called Tick Talk, of course). A scientist once told me to “think like a tick,” and that’s exactly what I do, because I live in one of the most tick-dense, Lyme disease–plagued regions of the United States, and I want to keep my family safe.

Read full article on slate.com

Green Heron

Green Heron

– Field Note by Justine Kibbe June 17 2017.

I can always tell when perhaps I am paying too close attention to my own life on an Island – the way I “feel” it rather than “the way I see it” as a Naturalist. Kind of an inside joke between me and Nature but it often comes across in my photo moments out in the field.

Up east at Oyster Pond, ranging a bit from my neck of the woods on Silver Eel Cove, I met this Green Heron(plumage of the species is actually more slate blue) while on my bicycle. It was early eve, both of us blanketed under June’s shroud of fog-the utter stillness, well, it felt surreal. I got home to discover the image indeed almost looks like an artist’s painting.

The canvas that is Fishers Island though is constantly changing. My job taking note, documenting, and journaling natural history over time; it’s no secret diary (except of course how I feel about my Significant Otter!).

And it appears so quickly – this ever evolving natural environment impacted with our human alterations and transitions; it’s not at all like watching paint dry.

It’s a tough learning curve- being cautious -not letting my own feelings get in the mix. It’s difficult not getting swept away with the surge of cars and folks that swells from 200 or so of us to 2,000 of us in less than 48 hours-just a Memorial Day weekend.

I try not to feel blue as bright red helicopters scream “touch down”, and brighter yellow hovercrafts hover over Black-crowned night herons snoozing under the ferry dock.

Newly installed sliding glass doors at The Village Market slowly got my green light-more speedily than the nearly official traffic light up at Gate House.

And it sure feels like no joke this climate change, wearing my gloves this late, soaking wet spring-June just could be the new April-no fooling!

But some things never change; I still feel grateful to live on an Island.