wildlife

One way humans can help is by planting a pollinator pathway, creating an environment where those farm and garden helpers don’t have to work so hard just to get by.

A pollinator pathway is a grouping of native, diverse plants that help beneficial insects and birds survive in developed areas. Made up of plants that bloom in succession, they provide corridors of food and shelter from spring to fall. Typically located along roads, sidewalks, and yards, these pathways provide different landscapes needed to create bridges between habitat areas that might be too far apart otherwise. 

Just as amazing, however, are the staggering odds that individual wild animals face to survive to adulthood in our modern environment. Take the wild turkey, for example. Joe Hutto, author of the 1995 book Illumination in the Flatwoods (which was made into a PBS TV special, My Life as a Turkey), put it this way:

Even a small pond adds beauty and interest to a backyard, says Justin Miller, general manager of Aquarium Adventure in Columbus, and for the homeowner, an added value is “stress relief.” 

“You sit out there with the sound and the movement of the water and it just relaxes you,” he says.

One way humans can help is by planting a pollinator pathway, creating an environment where those farm and garden helpers don’t have to work so hard just to get by.

A pollinator pathway is a grouping of native, diverse plants that help beneficial insects and birds survive in developed areas. Made up of plants that bloom in succession, they provide corridors of food and shelter from spring to fall. Typically located along roads, sidewalks, and yards, these pathways provide different landscapes needed to create bridges between habitat areas that might be too far apart otherwise. 

Large, handsome, fast-flying birds, canvasbacks were not exactly numerous during those years, but they were plentiful enough to be considered fair game. No matter how hard we hunted, however, we never bagged a single one. 

I retired from duck hunting and sold the boat decades ago, but in truth, I never totally lost the desire to bag a “bull can,” as hunters call the male (or drake) canvasback. Recently, I realized that I’m not getting any younger, and I decided that if I’m ever going to do it, I should probably do it soon. And I knew exactly where to begin my “hunt.” 

The rodents are so large (weighing up to 60 pounds) and unrelentingly industrious (“busy as a beaver,” of course), sometimes it may seem their secret motto is “Dam the Humans!” 

Until recently, the main solution to beaver issues has been to do away with the beaver; eliminate the beaver and you eliminate the problem, or so goes the theory. But that kind of thinking is slowly beginning to change. Many rural landowners enjoy having beavers on their property, along with other wildlife their ponds attract — as long as the beavers and their dams can be kept under control. 

Evans thought of all the Little Free Libraries that were springing up at the time, offering books for anyone to take, and thought that maybe a similar program might encourage more people to plant wildflowers. It was a project, he figured, that would fit right in with 3VCT’s mission. 

Three Valley Conservation Trust is a nonprofit group that promotes conservation measures in Butler, Preble, and Montgomery Counties. Its 250 members mainly work to secure land conservation easements and raise awareness of the importance of protecting natural habitats and resources. 

Tundra swan (the good)

The tundra swan is Ohio’s only native swan. Large flocks of them migrate through the state late in February and March on their way north to nest in the High Arctic, then come back with their young cygnets the following November and December, especially along the shores of Lake Erie.  If you have an older bird ID book, the tundra swan may be identified as a “whistling swan.” 

For instance, a very early Columbus resident and hunter shot 67 gray squirrels in one day from just one tree in the middle of a cornfield on what today is the Statehouse lawn.

“Buffalo herds in the East were never huge, never teeming, never rivaling the truly vast herds that thundered across the Great Plains until the latter half of the 19th century,” Belue says. “Eastern buffalo herds often numbered 100 head or less, and droves of fewer than 20 were common.”