W.H. Chip Gross

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.

“We began as a small gift shop and watch-repair business in 1976,” says Hershberger, who owns the shop. “So next year will be our 50th year in business. We always had a few pairs of binoculars for sale, and I began birding when I was a teenager, so the optics side of the business grew out of that hobby. Today, we carry 18 brands of optics, with 200 to 300 pairs of binoculars on display, and 20 to 30 spotting scopes, as well as telescopes for stargazing.”  

The vivid image of that annual autumnal spectacle of migration remains in my mind’s eye yet today. But it has always made me stop and wonder: Why do some raptors migrate, while others don’t?

“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.”

Kerns grew up in a suburb of Columbus, and says she had an intense interest in the outdoors, even as a kid. “I took a summer course in marine biology during high school, and that experience really helped guide my future undergrad and postgraduate studies and ultimate career path,” she says. 

They ultimately decided on a balloon release. But not just any balloon release; they wanted an event on a grand scale. The aggressive goal was to simultaneously release 1.5 million helium-filled latex ballons, setting a new world record that would be recorded in The Guinness Book of World Records.  

Organizers went all-out for what was dubbed Balloonfest ’86. They hired noted Los Angeles businessman Treb Heining and his company, Balloonart by Treb — still fresh from the successful release he had put on for the 1984 Summer Olympics in L.A. — to put on the event.  

Though the tragedy happened on Lake Superior, the most northerly, largest, and deepest of the Five Sisters, the story has many ties to the Buckeye State.

Smokey, of course, is best known as the star of the longest-running public service announcement campaign in American history, cautioning people since 1947 on behalf of the U.S. Forest Service to “remember ... only YOU can prevent forest fires.”

That’s why it’s appropriate that standing behind the giant Smokey at the state fairgrounds is a second icon of Ohio forest management history: the 60-foot Armintrout Fire Tower.

When Ohio gained statehood in 1803, leadership recognized the potential of the Muskingum to facilitate the opening of Ohio and the entire Midwest for increased trade and development. As a result, in 1837, the legislature began funding construction of a series of 11 locks and dams on the river, spending $1.6 million over the next four years (roughly the equivalent of $1.4 billion today) for what was one of the most extensive — and expensive — public works projects of its kind in America at the time.