Michigan Forest Life - May 13, 2025

Good morning, friends,

Welcome back to the Treehouse at Winterfield Pines Nature Sanctuary. It seems like I have been away for an entire season. Ferns spout from the forest floor. Buds cling to tree branches. A turtle crosses the gravel forest trail. Morels peek through a blanket of decaying leaves. Tiny white flowers from wild strawberries sprinkle open patches of ground (Photo 1). Wasn't it yesterday that ice still covered the pond?

My forest friends have been looking after this place in my absence. No need to worry when I'm gone. They know it needs care. And they let me know they have been on the job.

A raccoon left its calling card on the circular staircase.

"Yes, friend, thank you for keeping an eye on things for me," I whisper as I bring my duffle up to

treehouse level. "And thank you for reorganizing the last row of firewood. Good job. It is better

lying in a pile on the ground. A neat row looks too human. But I will put it back into a row, if

you don't mind."

"Only one row left from the winter," the raccoon scolds me. "You should know better, Dan. Only

one row. It was too tall. What if it tipped over on a child? Keep two rows together. It is more

stable. I almost hurt myself pushing it over to make it safe."

"Okay," I take the advice. "Two rows. Not so tall. Thank you."

The raccoon's mouse friend helped out too. It made sure the Treehouse showed signs of

occupancy. It's never good for a place in the woods to look vacant.

"Someone should use it while you are away," I hear the mouse squeak. "You left these Nature

Valley bars for me to nibble on. Thank you, Dan. They are my favorite. It's hard for me to open

the wrapper. But, as you can see, I figured it out."

"No problem, but can't you find your own food outside?" I ask the mouse.

"This is a tough time for me. It's warm, yes, but my winter cache is empty. Trees haven't dropped their seeds yet. I will find something soon, but you make it so easy with the supplies you left for me. Your cache still has a bit. Let me have some. Thank you. This treehouse shelter is dry and cool. I like it here. If you REALLY want me to go, I will find a spot in the woods."

"Yes, please do," I mutter sheepishly.

"No worries," the mouse cheerfully responds, "I will come back when you are gone."

"Thank you," and I gently drop the wrapper remains of two Nature Valley bars into the dust bin.

But the mouse wants to stay another night. I hear him in the dark. He wants another Nature

Valley bar.

"I'm going to sleep," I say. "Shut the door when you leave."

"Rest well," the mouse seems to say.

I walk a trail and am again surprised at what happens to one tree and not to other trees surrounding it. Today it is a 2" diameter white pine growing close to its siblings. Twenty years old. I count the whorls. The tree looks healthy in every way. A lovely orange fungi patch grows on the tree's bark 4 feet up from its base (Photo 2). Only this tree. Why this tree? What will happen to this tree over time that is different from the trees around it? Will it live? Is Mother Nature pruning the forest in her slow way?

Tiny fungi clinging to the side of trees can

be beautiful (Photo 3). This patch is growing on a dead poplar. The tree's wood is punky and moist. Insect eaten. Picked apart by woodpeckers.

Exactly the kind of tree fungi also enjoys. What seems to be dead can be teaming with life.

The forest is a comfortable place for many things besides its trees. Fungi. Strawberries. Turtles. Mice. Raccoons. Spiders. If you look closely, everything in the forest supports some form of life.

I wish you a comfortable walk in the forest, and eyes to see the wonder of life it supports.

Until next time,

Dan