It's pale yellow, and a bit pulpy. Any guesses?
Looks like pale broccoli - but it's not.
It's an Osage Orange that has been chewed to bits, probably by a squirrel, for a little winter sustenance. Mmm, mmm, mmm!
Showing posts with label Osage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Osage. Show all posts
February 7, 2013
Winter Sustenance
What's that in the snow?
It's pale yellow, and a bit pulpy. Any guesses?
Looks like pale broccoli - but it's not.
It's an Osage Orange that has been chewed to bits, probably by a squirrel, for a little winter sustenance. Mmm, mmm, mmm!
It's pale yellow, and a bit pulpy. Any guesses?
Looks like pale broccoli - but it's not.
It's an Osage Orange that has been chewed to bits, probably by a squirrel, for a little winter sustenance. Mmm, mmm, mmm!
October 13, 2012
Living History
The Osage Orange takes its name from the people of the Osage Nation. The trees grew primarily in a swath of land running from southern Oklahoma and south-western Arkansas into eastern Texas. It was well-known to native people, who prized the wood for bow making. In fact, one of its other names is "bodark", from the French phrase "bois d'arc", which means bow wood.
Meriwether Lewis, of Lewis & Clark fame, obtained slips of this unique tree in early 1804, right before setting out on his journey. It was a new species to him, and he sent the slips back home to President Thomas Jefferson, with whom he had lived and for whom he had worked as a secretary for two years. Lewis called them Osage apples. Sometimes today they are called hedge apples.
Both Jefferson and Lewis were naturalists. Jefferson wanted to find a water route to the Pacific for his country, but he also had an interest in the new-to-him plants and animals that the expedition would encounter. As a result, specimens of plants and animals were sent to him from the trail as often as circumstances allowed. The first shipment was in March of 1804, and included the Osage Orange cuttings. During the two-year expedition, whole animals were prepared with taxidermy skills and sent back, as well as furs, bones, teeth, eggs, feathers, and plants, with written descriptions and sketches. Theirs was a scientific journey of discovery, as well as a political one.
The slips had originally come from an Osage village about 300 miles west of St. Louis. They were obtained by Pierre Chouteau, of the great fur trading family headquartered in St. Louis. Lewis got them from Choteau and sent them to Jefferson. Some cuttings were sent to Bernard McMahon, a Philadelphia horticulturist. To this day, you can go and see Osage Orange trees from these first slips, growing in the St. Peter's Episcopal Church yard, and at the University of Virginia, founded by Jefferson - pieces of living history.
Meriwether Lewis, of Lewis & Clark fame, obtained slips of this unique tree in early 1804, right before setting out on his journey. It was a new species to him, and he sent the slips back home to President Thomas Jefferson, with whom he had lived and for whom he had worked as a secretary for two years. Lewis called them Osage apples. Sometimes today they are called hedge apples.
Both Jefferson and Lewis were naturalists. Jefferson wanted to find a water route to the Pacific for his country, but he also had an interest in the new-to-him plants and animals that the expedition would encounter. As a result, specimens of plants and animals were sent to him from the trail as often as circumstances allowed. The first shipment was in March of 1804, and included the Osage Orange cuttings. During the two-year expedition, whole animals were prepared with taxidermy skills and sent back, as well as furs, bones, teeth, eggs, feathers, and plants, with written descriptions and sketches. Theirs was a scientific journey of discovery, as well as a political one.
The slips had originally come from an Osage village about 300 miles west of St. Louis. They were obtained by Pierre Chouteau, of the great fur trading family headquartered in St. Louis. Lewis got them from Choteau and sent them to Jefferson. Some cuttings were sent to Bernard McMahon, a Philadelphia horticulturist. To this day, you can go and see Osage Orange trees from these first slips, growing in the St. Peter's Episcopal Church yard, and at the University of Virginia, founded by Jefferson - pieces of living history.
October 4, 2012
Morning Walk
I was tempted not to go out yesterday, but I knew Osage oranges were ripening on the trees, so out I went. I'm so glad I did!
Walking to the trailhead I stopped to examine some beautiful leaves. What did I find clinging to them? Dozens of box elder bugs! Normally masses of insects gross me out, but this was actually kind of cool. They were crowded together, on the undersides of the leaves, probably sheltering from the dew, like campers under a rain fly.
Descending to the creek bottom, I felt my worries and troubles lift off me with each step. I breathed in the cool morning air, and enjoyed the host of little birds, mostly sparrows, hopping through the meadow grasses and brush. They were active, but shy, and I took the challenge of trying to photograph them.
Waiting for the full sunrise, one bunch of weeds had an almost luminescent glow to them, and seemed to stand like a candelabra left over from some meadow revelry the night before.
There was a low cobweb factor for pedestrians, with not many strands across the trails, but the spiders had been busy in the dead grasses. The blossoms there had been replaced in plant after plant with webbing, made more visible than usual by the dew clinging to the filaments.
The dew was also clinging to my bare toes inside my sandals. Next time I'll throw fashion to the wind and wear socks!
Soon the sun rose over the horizon and lit the east side of the tree tops with golden light. Standing in the middle of the path, I soaked in the glorious moment, my soul rejoicing.
Approaching the creek, I heard thick movement in the woods on the left. Glancing into the trees I saw bulky shapes - low to the ground. What were they? Fat raccoons? Stepping quickly toward them, I glimpsed more movement and dark shapes. The brush swayed. Suddenly there was a flapping of wings - big wings. Something lifted off under the low branches, only to disappear again into the brush. Finally I saw a tall, thin neck, hustling away from me. They were turkeys!
Now - I've seen turkeys. I've seen them along roadways, and in our own yard - even on our deck. But these were the first turkeys I've ever seen in the wild while on a nature hike. It was a cool moment!
I scanned the trees to see if I could spot any of them roosting, but no luck. I then made my way to the creek. In a playful mood one day, I nicknamed it the Nimrodel, after Tolkien's river. I love to visit it. On this day it was low in its rocky bed after summer's drought, and I was able to walk where water flowed last year.
Fall leaves floated on the water's surface, and paw prints adorned the muddy banks. Here were my raccoon signs. And they had left behind corn husks - testimony of their last night's dinner.
Tracing the creek bank, I lost all sense of time in the quiet murmur of the water and the shimmering of the red and yellow leaves.
Everywhere I saw signs of fall. The forest is beginning to shut down. Leaves are browning and withering. The greenery on the forest floor is subsiding. Thistles are fluffing out. Walnuts blacken and rot. It was beauty with a hint of melancholy.
Wending my way back, I found what I was looking for. An Osage orange was lying on the ground.
Looking up, I saw the tree, loaded with bumpy green fruit. It made me laugh out loud to see how bountiful just one tree could be. I felt happy knowing that months from now, many of these fruits would be waiting on the forest floor, ready to feed foraging squirrels who will be biding their time until spring.
Finishing my walk, I ascended a wide trail to the more established portion of the park. A group of joggers were stretching out near the parking lot, getting ready for their run, but my trip was done. Carrying gold, ruby and emerald gems on my Canon's memory card, I reluctantly made my way back to my car and left the park until another day.
Walking to the trailhead I stopped to examine some beautiful leaves. What did I find clinging to them? Dozens of box elder bugs! Normally masses of insects gross me out, but this was actually kind of cool. They were crowded together, on the undersides of the leaves, probably sheltering from the dew, like campers under a rain fly.
Descending to the creek bottom, I felt my worries and troubles lift off me with each step. I breathed in the cool morning air, and enjoyed the host of little birds, mostly sparrows, hopping through the meadow grasses and brush. They were active, but shy, and I took the challenge of trying to photograph them.
Waiting for the full sunrise, one bunch of weeds had an almost luminescent glow to them, and seemed to stand like a candelabra left over from some meadow revelry the night before.
There was a low cobweb factor for pedestrians, with not many strands across the trails, but the spiders had been busy in the dead grasses. The blossoms there had been replaced in plant after plant with webbing, made more visible than usual by the dew clinging to the filaments.
The dew was also clinging to my bare toes inside my sandals. Next time I'll throw fashion to the wind and wear socks!
Soon the sun rose over the horizon and lit the east side of the tree tops with golden light. Standing in the middle of the path, I soaked in the glorious moment, my soul rejoicing.
Approaching the creek, I heard thick movement in the woods on the left. Glancing into the trees I saw bulky shapes - low to the ground. What were they? Fat raccoons? Stepping quickly toward them, I glimpsed more movement and dark shapes. The brush swayed. Suddenly there was a flapping of wings - big wings. Something lifted off under the low branches, only to disappear again into the brush. Finally I saw a tall, thin neck, hustling away from me. They were turkeys!
Now - I've seen turkeys. I've seen them along roadways, and in our own yard - even on our deck. But these were the first turkeys I've ever seen in the wild while on a nature hike. It was a cool moment!
I scanned the trees to see if I could spot any of them roosting, but no luck. I then made my way to the creek. In a playful mood one day, I nicknamed it the Nimrodel, after Tolkien's river. I love to visit it. On this day it was low in its rocky bed after summer's drought, and I was able to walk where water flowed last year.
Fall leaves floated on the water's surface, and paw prints adorned the muddy banks. Here were my raccoon signs. And they had left behind corn husks - testimony of their last night's dinner.
Tracing the creek bank, I lost all sense of time in the quiet murmur of the water and the shimmering of the red and yellow leaves.
Everywhere I saw signs of fall. The forest is beginning to shut down. Leaves are browning and withering. The greenery on the forest floor is subsiding. Thistles are fluffing out. Walnuts blacken and rot. It was beauty with a hint of melancholy.
Wending my way back, I found what I was looking for. An Osage orange was lying on the ground.
Looking up, I saw the tree, loaded with bumpy green fruit. It made me laugh out loud to see how bountiful just one tree could be. I felt happy knowing that months from now, many of these fruits would be waiting on the forest floor, ready to feed foraging squirrels who will be biding their time until spring.
Finishing my walk, I ascended a wide trail to the more established portion of the park. A group of joggers were stretching out near the parking lot, getting ready for their run, but my trip was done. Carrying gold, ruby and emerald gems on my Canon's memory card, I reluctantly made my way back to my car and left the park until another day.
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