Stories

I caught a splash of color against the slowly lightening sky. There, perched on the electric wire, was the first eastern bluebird of the se

Grey tree frogs (Hyla versicolor) are a marvel of adaptation. Their skin can shift from gray to green, allowing them to blend seamlessly wit

Rabbits are opportunists, and winter offers few choices, so young maples and birches like these make an easy target

That’s when I heard it – the haunting call of a barred owl echoing through the forest.

Pike are apex predators are perfectly adapted to their environment, even in winter. As the water temperature plummets, their metabolism

I’ve driven the roads of Northern Michigan countless times, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive elk in the Pigeon River Country.

Amidst the serene winter landscape, a small, vibrant figure appears—a flash of red against the white. It’s a young red squirrel, his russet

They are an industrious bunch, each bird deftly snatching up a peanut in its beak before flying off to stash its prize.

The chickadee lands on a branch near the back door, its bright eyes scanning the scene with keen intelligence.

Perched on the feeder is a tiny bird with a striking appearance—a red-breasted nuthatch.

I realize I have come face-to-face with a red fox. The creature, with its vibrant red fur and bushy tail, is a stunning sight against the ba

This post is part of a project in the works; " An Ogemaw County Year".  The blog and eventually the book will encompass nature noticing,...

There, crouched regally on a moss-covered log and intent on something in the downed trees, is a bobcat.

I realized i had a cluster of witch hazel shrubs. Their yellow, spidery blossoms were a stark contrast against the browning leaves of late a

Silhouetted against the darkening sky, a flurry of small, darting shapes emerges. Brown bats, their wings beating rapidly, swoop and flutter

Fascinated, I watch as a raccoon scrambles from the top of the feeder to the tree trunk with surprising agility in the moonlight.

But those who fish the Rifle river, or any river, in September know a different story. The air is crisper, the river quieter.

Their eerie, haunting calls echoed only briefly through the stillness, a sound that was both beautiful and melancholy. A perfect reminder th

That’s when I saw it – a large snapping turtle, half-submerged in the shallows, basking lazily in the morning sun. Its shell was encrusted w

The turkey moved with purpose, and soon, I realized why. It had discovered a patch of wild blueberries, the tiny berries hidden among the gr