W.H. Chip Gross

Roger Moore of Mansfield, Ohio

Sitting beside a small campfire, its woodsmoke scenting the cool air of a perfect autumn afternoon, I could almost see the scene as vividly as the man seated across from me described it.

The “my people” he speaks of — and traces his lineage to through one of his grandfathers, a full-blooded Native American — were a mixed-race group (modern-day anthropologists term it a “tri-racial isolate”) known as the Carmel Indians. They lived in Ohio’s Highland and Meigs counties until as recently as the early 1900s.

A statue of Meriweather Lewis and William Clark at Falls of the Ohio State Park in Clarksville, Indiana.

The Shawnees called it Spaylaywitheepi. When French traders and trappers arrived during the 18th century, they described it as the Iroquois had: La Belle Rivière — the beautiful river.

Seeing the Ohio today, it’s difficult to believe that, in its original state, the river was a naturally shallow stream, varying in depth from only about 3 to 20 feet. And during annual periods of low water, such as late summer and early fall, a person could literally walk across the Ohio River on the stream’s bottom at many spots. You’d certainly get wet, possibly up to your waist or so, but the feat could be accomplished.

A salt bed under Lake Erie

A multitude of boaters, anglers, swimmers, vacationers, sun-chasers, and thrill-seekers flocks to Lake Erie each summer. Most of them will have no idea of the activity taking place far beneath those waters.

The entrance to one of the mines, operated by Cargill, Inc., is just offshore from downtown Cleveland on Whiskey Island (so named when a distillery was built on the site in the 1830s). The second mine, operated by Morton Salt, is 30 miles farther east along the lakeshore at Fairport Harbor. The property and mineral rights under the lake are owned by the State of Ohio, but the mineral rights are leased to the two operators.   

Chip Gross with his prized walking stick.

Are your favorite hiking trails somehow growing inexplicably longer and steeper? If so, congratulations! You’re a “seasoned citizen.” For most outdoor folks, that hard-won status usually kicks in sometime around age 50.  

After a lengthy search spanning several months, I eventually found just the right tree — growing, of all places, on my own property 100 yards behind the house. About a dozen feet high, it was a thin sugar maple that had grown straight up for about 3 feet, spiraled for 2 feet, then grew straight again. Perfect! 

What makes poison ivy so toxic is urushiol, a clear liquid compound found in the plant’s leaves that can be transferred to your skin by simply brushing against a leaf.

If you consider yourself an outdoors person, you do know what poison ivy looks like, right? 

Are you sure? 

Poison ivy wears many disguises. It can appear as a single plant, a group of plants, a shrub, a ground vine, or even a climbing vine. And its infamous “leaves of three” can be as small as a 50-cent piece or as large as your hand. In addition, different-shaped leaves (actually leaflets) —their margins smooth, lobed, or toothed — can appear on the same plant. 

Timber rattlesnake

I am not what anyone might call a “snake guy.” But the reptiles do hold a certain fascination for me, especially the three venomous species inhabiting the Buckeye State: timber rattlesnake, copperhead, and eastern massasauga.  

Another state (and federally) endangered species is the smallest of Ohio’s three venomous snakes, the eastern massasauga rattlesnake, a name derived from the Chippewa Indian language. It’s also known as the swamp rattler or black snapper — the latter moniker giving some idea of the snake’s dark coloration as well as its aggressive striking behavior upon becoming agitated. Massasaugas measure up to 30 inches in length.

Red-winged blackbirds are considered by ornithologists to be one of the most abundant birds in North America, with their continental numbers estimated at well over 100 million.

This time of year, when most Ohioans can’t stand much more of winter, a certain songbird begins arriving in the Buckeye State with a promise that yet another spring is on its way. 

Ubiquitous, conspicuous, and easy to identify, male red-winged blackbirds are a stunning glossy black, their wing epaulets — lesser wing coverts — flashing a vibrant red, highlighted by a yellow bottom-edge stripe. The sight of males bobbing on cattail stalks and sound of their familiar, gurgling “kon-ka-reee” song are sure signs that spring weather is not far off.

An easy-to-construct cage-trap suet feeder attracted this pileated woodpecker.

I’m a backyard bird-feeding genius. (Please don’t ask my wife about that statement; she claims to have multiple examples of my less-than-genius status — and not just pertaining to bird feeding. But she does tend to exaggerate.) 

I maintain nine bird feeders outside my home-office window. Only two of them were commercially manufactured, and one of those two was given to me as a gift. The other seven I cobbled together from material I had on hand. I don’t mind spending money when I have to, but if I can save a few bucks and still get the job done, I’m all for it, especially with the continually rising cost of bird feed.  

For years, Robert Bush Sr. has been using trail cameras set up near downed logs spanning small streams in Pennsylvania to capture photos of wildlife crossing the logs.

For years, hunters have been using trail cameras to scout for game, which, in the Buckeye State, usually means white-tailed deer. But, interestingly, a growing segment of the trail-camera market now has nonhunters purchasing the relatively inexpensive cameras to capture wildlife images 24/7.

Trail cameras take both still photos and video clips of wildlife and provide endlessly entertaining images. If there’s someone on your Christmas list who would like to try this fun and fascinating outdoor hobby — or if you’d like to try it yourself — here are a few suggestions to help get you started, based on my own experience: