Over the past few weeks, Mother Nature has slowly stirred from her winter slumber. The earthy scent of skunk cabbage rises from the wetlands, frogs call out into the evening air, and woodcock dance across the sky in their annual spring displays. With each step outside, something new reveals itself, as if the landscape is waking up before our eyes. These familiar rhythms, returning year after year, bring a quiet comfort and a deep sense of renewal.
I hope you’ll take a few minutes to join me on a tour to see what’s happening outside!
Despite the lack of greenery on the landscape, there is still plenty of color painted throughout nature. While taking a walk through the primarily brown and gray woods, something vibrantly orange caught my my eye. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a fungus often referred to as orange jelly. With nighttime temperatures still pretty cold, it was surprising to see something so colorful and alive.
Apparently, this type of fungus grows on dead logs and helps with the decaying process. While it is edible, it (supposedly) has little to no taste.
Shooting star, maidenhair fern, spring beauty, and sky blue aster are all native plant species in Wisconsin that really lucked out in the naming department. Their names highlight characteristics that we, as humans, tend to associate with beauty and positivity. Then there is skunk cabbage (pictured above). The name alone tells you just about everything you need to know about our typical reaction to this plant. Words often associated with skunk cabbage include “odor,” “rotting meat,” and “unpleasant.”
While it’s true that skunk cabbage emits a rather pungent smell, it does so to attract pollinators like flies and beetles. Personally, I love skunk cabbage and look forward to finding it every spring. It has an almost otherworldly appearance, as if it belongs in the ocean on a coral reef. Its odd nature is exactly what makes it so special.
Whenever I see a turkey in a tree, especially a rather large turkey, I can’t help but laugh. There’s just something about it that doesn’t seem right. I never question a barred owl or a bald eagle perched in a tree. Perhaps it’s because turkeys are ground-nesters, or maybe it’s because I mostly see them walking along the edges of farm fields. I suppose if I saw a barred owl walking along a soybean field I would feel the same way.
Even though it may seem strange, turkeys spend almost every night roosting up in trees. They have poor night vision, so spending the night up in a tree protects them from nocturnal predators like coyotes, foxes, and even owls.
Lastly, I’ll leave you with a photo of a nighttime visitor that I feel incredibly lucky to have seen. It’s a southern flying squirrel that has been frequenting the tree in my front yard. I’ve shared this photo with quite a few people, and many didn’t realize that flying squirrels even live in Wisconsin, let alone on Madison’s east side.
My wife, Carolyn, first spotted it one night while filling our bird feeder. Since then, we’ve seen two or three flying squirrels almost every evening, skittering around the tree in search of sunflower seeds and peanuts. These remarkable little mammals can glide up to 100 feet and even make sharp turns mid-air to avoid obstacles.
Well, I hope you enjoyed this month’s virtual tour of nature as it’s happening. See you next month!



