Features

It’s no secret that Lake Erie’s recent algae blooms have a small army of scientists and conservationists working nonstop to remedy its troubles. But a little-known faction has been feeding valuable data to those problem-solvers: charter captains.

“We first started with the Ohio EPA,” says Dave Spangler, longtime captain and vice president of the Lake Erie Charter Boat Association (LECBA). The EPA, he says, sent lab technicians wading near shore to collect samples. “The better part of the Western Basin just wasn’t getting covered,” he says.

Location: On a 100-foot-high bluff near the Great Miami River in Miamisburg Mound Park.

We’re accustomed to sharing our outdoors with gray squirrels and fox squirrels, but the most common type of squirrel in Ohio is one you’ve probably never seen — the southern flying squirrel. While other squirrels will boldly venture among humans, southern flying squirrels are both shy and nocturnal, making them difficult to spot.

Smaller than gray squirrels, with big, black eyes and a tail that’s flat and furry rather than bushy, the southern flying squirrel has a wide flap of skin from its wrist down to its ankle on each side.

When billowing clouds of steam begin rising from family sugar bush operations that dot the landscape this time of year, you know two things: Winter’s grip is finally beginning to ease a bit, and underneath all that steam is one of the tastiest treats there is.

Poured over pancakes or drizzled over ice cream, there is no better seasonal treat than pure Ohio maple syrup, and Geauga County produces more of the stuff than any other county in the state. The two main reasons: many mature sugar maple trees and many Amish farms — most of which operate a sugar bush.

Location: The only place in the world where KitchenAid stand mixers are produced is the KitchenAid factory at 1701 KitchenAid Way in Greenville.

Ask Nancy Stranahan, “What’s the point of preserving plain old woods?” and you’re certain to get an earful.

“I’d say guilty as charged, except for the word ‘plain,'” Stranahan says, explaining that southern Ohio’s hardwood forests are the last best chance to save an ecosystem that has one of the highest levels of biodiversity in the world. “The fact that 100,000 multicellular native organisms are at stake takes ‘plain’ out of the discussion.”

Location: Main Street (U.S. 62/State Route 39) in Berlin, a Holmes County village in the heart of northeast Ohio’s Amish Country.

Let’s look to the future: It’s mid-July and incredibly hot, just as it’s been every summer. On one of those 80-80 days — in the ballpark of 80 degrees accompanied by 80 percent humidity — the condensation pools on the table around the base of your glass of iced tea.

Conveniently, ice is but a few steps away. Open the freezer, twist a white rectangular tray, and cubes fall out; push a button on the door and crescent-shaped ice chips cascade into your glass.

Layhigh Road is a little-traveled ribbon of asphalt in rural western Butler County. Occasionally, however, a traveler might encounter a sleek, black locomotive emerging from the woods and thundering down the track that crosses Layhigh behind an X-shaped crossbuck. As quickly as the locomotive appears, it fades away, a phantom train in broad daylight.

On Thanksgiving Day 2017, an uninvited guest arrived at an Amish farm just a few miles north of Berlin, Ohio — and decided to stay. It was a young snowy owl, and the bird hung around for several weeks, perching atop the peaks of Orris Wengerd’s several barns. It quickly became a celebrity, attracting hundreds of birders and photographers.