People have been documenting the natural word since the first human figured out how make some kind of representative scrawl. Think about the cave painters of Europe, of Aristotle, Galileo, Newton. Of Darwin and Einstein. Of Burroughs and Bewick, of Lewis & Clark. Contemporary writers abound – Kim Stafford, Annie Dillard, Merrill Gilfillan. And then there are those of us who jot down notes on scraps of paper or in notebooks, because we are compelled somehow to make a record of what we’ve seen.

Some of the documents are straightforward:

15 Sept. Pritchard. 65%cloud. 58degrees. 2:15-2:45
Crow 4
Mall 2+2
CoMe 2
GBH 1
Flicker 1
RBNu (H)
BuTi 11+

Others are elegant in their observation and their language:

There is a brief Fall passage, usually in September, like this morning along the Little White River in South Dakota, when the light/temperature combination precisely matches that of early Spring and the willing birds are half-inspired to crank up a ghostly rendition of their breeding music. There is a kind of eerie displacement in hearing a robin caroling this descending time of year. Half a dozen flickers are chasing about in the river bottom, giving their wicka-wickacalls and displacing their bright undertails as they do in mating season. Chickadees whistle their spring songs in the ponderosas and redwings in their marshy spots beside the road are in full song when the sun first strikes.

Merrill Gilfillan, Magpie Rising. Copyright 1988. Pruett Publishing Co.

Some are elegant in their precision:

E=MC2

And some are delightfully over the top:

Winter Wren –
The nest of this brave little bird is snug and warm, made of moss, lines with soft feathers, and lodged “in crevices of dead logs or stumps in thick, coniferous woods.” What a pleasure it would be to follow him north, and study all his pretty ways in the dark forest home, where he furnishes mirth and sunshine all the summer through.

Florence A. Merriam, Birds Through the Looking Glass. Copyright 1889. The Riverside Press.

I think of all of these as part of the Earth’s written record. Documents that we can turn to in an attempt to learn, to understand, to compare. Here in the United States we’re witnessing egregious actions against the environment by our administration. As the new rulings become law our land will change. We are in a place where records matter. So tell us what you see this weekend. I’ll download everything and make a hard copy. Someday, maybe, it’ll be a document that allows another generation to experience the beauty of the land we now know. If there’s enough interest I’ll do it again next week.

So I’ll go first:

Today in the woods I heard an odd sound, midway up in the canopy. A soft hissing whine. Above me, tucked into the crotch of a Douglas Fir tree, a young Barred Owl. I watch for maybe ten minutes as the owlet watches back, bobbing its head from side to side, then sitting perfectly still. Watching. I think this is a recent fledgling. It is still fluffy with down. A branchlet – one that clambers from branch to branch before its wings are strong enough to allow it to fly.

At the end of my walk I pick red huckleberries from a bush heavy with fruit. Sour and sweet at the same time.

What did you see this weekend?