Drenched-with-life

Ross Krouse - UNT Geography Major

It rained this morning here in North Texas, and we are residing in a low pressure cell. It is a little muggy with a nice cool breeze, it’s also overcast with patches of sunlight beaming out every other minute. There is a 100% chance of rain tonight so it seems like while we have this nice gap in the weather everything is out harvesting what it needs while it can before the rain saturates the earth in these parts again tonight.The grass still hasn’t been cut and I’m really enjoying it now, it’s almost as if it’s a jungle but I am a giant. If I could shrink down to 1/100 of my size I’m sure it would be more like a sea of trees and obstacles that would take days too trek through. It seems as though most the grasses that grow here, have over crowded the dandelions I closely observed during the time at my mandala. At one point I counted 16 dandelions in my mandala, then that number multiplied into an uncountable amount, and now it is back to a reasonably low count again. Since it is my last mandala visit and I want to make the most of it, I pick up a dandelion. One in the premature stages of its life with its lion tooth shaped yellow petals, stem and all, and shove it in my mouth. Trying to see what all the fuss was about online, with what I keep reading about them preventing “scurvy” due to its nutrient abundance. As I chew and try to distinguish a certain flavor to pinpoint it, I can’t. The only flavor I can think of is “plant” or “grass” a green almost pungent flavor that our pallets are not used too. I kind of just wanted to spit it out as fast as possible, but hesitantly I keep chewing trying to document the flavor and texture in my mind. Instead, all I can think of was who’s the first person to pick up a dandelion and say “you know what? I'm gonna eat this thing!?” and by doing so changed the course of history and saved lives unknowingly with his/her influential decision. This question then stirred up another in my mind, “who was the first person to drink cow milk, and what the heck was she/he doing? And why do we even drink the secretion of another animal?

The native pollinator species area has completely been reborn since I have been visiting my mandala this semester. In the beginning the pollinator area was only mulch and woodchips, rocks, and a couple of winter resistant plants. But now the area is like Picasso’s pallet with many different colors to choose from, there has even been a couple new blooms on plants I didn’t even see last week. Reds, purples, yellows, oranges, pinks, and greens. The area is a sensory overload as I act like a pollinator and go from plant to plant investigating, probing, smelling, and watching. Each plant has its own personality and its own intentions.

It’s funny how when you sit down for a minute in an area once a week for a few months, you become attached. Documenting changes in this area has been substantial, things have gone from desolate to drenched-with-life in a matter of weeks as spring rounded the corner. I learned that it is important to sit down and observe life around you more often, and slow down the fast paced everyday struggle for a few minutes, just to see things you might not notice at first glance. In order to have a better understanding of our world and the roles we play in other things’ lives, as well as the role they have in ours and each other’s. At first that was a hard concept to fully understand, but after living it and spending time thinking about it you learn that the mandala is a much more in depth project than it first seemed. My experience changed dramatically from start to finish because my outlook changed on the whole assignment as it progressed through the semester.

April showers brings May flowers but also bugs...

Preston LaFarge - UNT Anthropology Major

2015 has been a wet year so far for North Texas. In several months we have already had over 11 inches of rain which is half of the total amount for 2014. With the rains comes the explosive growth of plants. The mandala has never been greener. The dry empty branches of the Mexican plum and redbud are now thick canopies.

I cannot remember a time when the plants have been so green. But the rains also bring growth for all other organisms. While they often go unnoticed the bugs in the mandala are experiencing a season of growth as well. Because over half of the insect word is herbivores when plants are experiencing growth insects will share in the bounty.

I have observed yucca plants closely for the last two years, which in some people is a trivial amount of time, but in my own community is ages. But I have never seen the bugs I observed today. They first appear to be dirt or inanimate but when I get closer for observations the spot begins to move and scatter away from my gaze.

Yucca bug: photo courtesy of bugguide.net.

What I was seeing was the yucca bug Halticotoma valida in its nymph stage. The bugs cannot fly yet and spend their day on dry yucca plants. I did not notice them on the cooler yucca plants that were being shaded by the plums/redbuds. The yucca bug uses mandibles to puncture the yucca leaf and drink the plants juices. Since the bugs can have 5 generations in a season the bugs can cause considerable damage to the plant.

I have always been fond of the yucca plant, it has countless uses and can stand up to Texas’ summers but I will have to learn that growth for plants and animals that I am fond of also means growth of plants and animals that I am not so fond of.

Lessons of the Mandala

Chris Buchanan - UNT Integrative Studies Major

I am sitting in my Mandala for the last session of the semester on a rainy afternoon in April. The temperature is fairly warm, the sun is blocked out by thick rain clouds, and it pops out occasionally for a few minutes at a time. I am reflecting on my Mandala experience over the course of the semester and analyzing how it has impacted the ways in which I observe the environment and the interactions of the various forms of life that inhabit the world around me.

The Mandala experience has had a positive effect on the way that I interact with and observe the environment. One important lesson that it has taught me is how to just sit down, in nature, and observe without getting distracted by the people around me or thoughts that are unrelated to the task at hand. I also learned how to pay attention to the tinniest details of the environment and I improved my ability to describe them in an interesting way. Another lesson that I learned is how to effectively question many of the natural processes that are taking place in the environment and how to identify the various species of life forms inhabiting my Mandala. Just as I began to recognize the specific, individual, life forms that inhabit my Mandala, some of them even started to recognize me. For example, the turtles became quite used to my presence and often swam up to me in search of food. The Mandala experience made me realize that I did not pay as much attention, as I should, to the natural environment around me in my everyday life.

One of the positive effects of the Mandala experience is that I have gained patience. Sitting in my Mandala on a weekly basis definitely improved the level of patience and comfortableness I have in focusing my attention on observing the environment around me. I also developed more appreciation, respect, and understanding of the countless and complex relationships and biological processes underlying the interactions of life and the environment. Another important result of the Mandala experience is that I greatly improved my knowledge of the biological life forms that inhabit my Mandala, the ways in which they interact with the environment, and the biological processes that aid their survival. The Mandala experience helped expand my perspective of how much more is happening around me than I thought. It has also led me to question and analyze the ways in which I, both positively and negatively, interact with the environment.

The Mandala assignment taught me about the importance of approaching the study of life forms and the environment from an ecological point of view, rather than attempting to study the different forms of life individually, while ignoring their relationships with the environment. Ecology is the study of the interaction between living things and their environment. This concept is precisely what we studied while observing our Mandala and documenting findings. The experience was incredibly beneficial and it improved my understanding of the world around me. I would highly recommend it to anybody who is looking to do the same.

Oebalus pugnax

Arron Cannon - UNT Geography Major

Searching around my apartment complex for an interesting spot to deem a mandala I came across an extremely orange, interesting looking insect that was perched on a tree branch about three meters from the side walk I was walking down. The bug had an awful but unique smell that seem to be more concentrated the closer I came. What struck me as strange was that the weather was a cold, in the high fifties, too I cold I had previously thought for insects to be out and about. The pungent reeking bug had a tiny, circular spot that laid right in the middle of the critter’s thorax. The black spot was perfectly shaped in all directions. I followed the spot with my eye multiple times and at multiple angles to see if I could find a flaw in natures perfectly drawn circle but failed to locate an error. The insect’s antennas were also of a bright orange color. I questioned nature’s reason behind such a bright color and what evolutionary path created such a loud, un-camouflaged insect. Then I thought, with such a foul smell to kept predators at bay the insect did not need to be camouflaged to thrive, predators could not get close enough to kill or eat the insects from becoming overwhelmed from the disgusting aroma the bug secretes. How witty nature can be at times I also thought. Then, with absolute no warning the horrid stench admitting bug quickly crawled into a crack in the tree and disappeared from sight. All that remained was the profane smelling remnants that placed the bug at the scene only moments ago.

Photo courtesy wikipedia.org

After arriving back home, my attention then moved to researching the strange insect I had just encountered. The scientific name for the queer orange bug is Oebalus pugnax or better known as the rice stink bug. I found that the type of stink bug was not native to N. Texas, which was even more interesting. How did the insect get to N. Texas? I found that most other information dealt with the insect being a pest but particularly to rice fields. Honestly, I was more interested in the odor the bug produces when threatened than I was with the bug being a pest to rice fields. I also found through further research, that I was lucky that the bug did not expel a stream of potent Trans-2-Decenal and Trans-2-Octenal (the chemicals mixed to produce the horrid smell) at my face since most stink bugs can shoot the odor inducing chemicals several inches from their abdomen. The fact that the bug was admitting the smell proved that I had threatened the little critter in such a way that stimulated its odor producing gland. I know now to be more cautious when approaching an insect I’m not familiar with for the next time I may not be so lucky.

Squirrels in the Hood

Kevin Hernandez - UNT Social Science Major

Today is my last post, the Mandala is hardly recognizable from the first time we came out here. It is amazing to think about how far it has come from the first week. Everything is in full bloom, the flowers in the field are back as are the clovers, the cottonwood and the post oaks are fully green and beautiful and the Mexican plums are much taller and more tree looking than they did at the start. This is also the most extensive grouping of bugs I have seen, along with the roly-poly bugs, there are many fast moving, small black ants and a few much larger fire ants. This is also the first time in a month that I have had squirrel activity in the Mandala, even though it was just a brief passing through to another tree. Most surprising of all are the birds, up until this week, I hadn’t seen a single bird in my Mandala, today however I was graced with the presence of two robins as they chased each other through the cottonwood branches. I’m so glad we have done this Mandala project it has made me much more aware of my surroundings and has given me a much deeper interest in nature.

Last Post

Jacob Korte - UNT History Major

Today is my last post, the Mandala is hardly recognizable from the first time we came out here. It is amazing to think about how far it has come from the first week. Everything is in full bloom, the flowers in the field are back as are the clovers, the cottonwood and the post oaks are fully green and beautiful and the Mexican plums are much taller and more tree looking than they did at the start. This is also the most extensive grouping of bugs I have seen, along with the roly-poly bugs, there are many fast moving, small black ants and a few much larger fire ants. This is also the first time in a month that I have had squirrel activity in the Mandala, even though it was just a brief passing through to another tree. Most surprising of all are the birds, up until this week, I hadn’t seen a single bird in my Mandala, today however I was graced with the presence of two robins as they chased each other through the cottonwood branches. I’m so glad we have done this Mandala project it has made me much more aware of my surroundings and has given me a much deeper interest in nature.

Final Look

EESAT Waterfall: Photo by author.

Skip Warren - UNT History Major

I come away with wishing I had a full season observing this spot. However, watching through three months of winter as it transitions through to spring has allowed for the most interesting and turbulent weather changes in a typical Texas season. The most violent weather occurred while away. But the mandala took it in stride as it has done every previous season. What was once thought dead is in fact alive and thriving. Other life that was thought could not survive has proved very resilient. We will miss observing the summer’s unrelenting heat and many rainless days. It is sure to take a toll on some life while other types will bask in it. 

Through the winter I observed countless minnows, a wasp and a hornet, one mockingbird, one cardinal, two sparrows and a red tailed hawk at altitude. One squirrel planted an acorn. Low ground cover, leaves and shrubbery trapped blowing trash which later disappeared under more dead leaves. The leaves then disappeared as spring growth broke through in a thick carpet. Surprisingly there was no flowering of any plant other than very sparse dollar weed. Pond algae grew by several inches as spring took hold making for a fresh source of food for the minnows. I saw few ground dwelling insects probably due to winter and their hiding under thick plant growth. Those few I did see were flying and too fast to identify. Other changes to the mandala are much too slow to see under any circumstance yet one knows they are happening. The waterfall and rain beat down on the sandstone slowly eroding it away into silt. Water froze and thawed in small cracks in the rock, which over time will make erosion easier. Lastly, during the entire four month period I saw only two people take time to observe with me and that was on the very last day. No one else gave the area a glance. It was nice to take time again just being quiet and watching. People don’t do it nearly often enough.

I drew pictures the entire time. I leave with an actual photo.

Dauber Nest

Ross Krouse - UNT Geography Major

Doesn’t look like my mandala location has been mowed in quite some time now and the grasses are taking off, little to no human influence can be found since last week’s visit. I’m starting to enjoy the fact that the lawn crews have left this area alone, it feels as if it brings more life to the area. Maybe we need to start thinking this way in areas that we mow frequently like roadsides, it would be healthier to grow native species in those areas than to just keep them groomed and more “pleasurable to the eye”.

Today a dirt dauber’s nest in one of the post oak’s has caught my eye. The common name for this insect is a “Mud Dauber;” most people are afraid of these little guys because they resemble wasps or other stinging insects. They are meticulous in their practices; I spend some time observing the females as they leave the nest to retrieve dirt and continue to build their geometric nest with ease. It makes me wonder how these bugs know their jobs and just do what they need to do to survive with just instinct. Its mind boggling when you think of how many insects there are and how many jobs are getting done by each of them everyday around the globe.

Springtime Rush

Ross Krouse - UNT Geography Major

Times are changing in my mandala location. As soon as I walk up I can feel it radiating off of my area of observation. Too me it seems as if it’s a completely different place, with a whole new feeling of life and energy seeping out everywhere my eyes look. Exact opposite of when I started in January.

The first thing I noticed was the prevalence of insects in my mandala, from creepy crawlers to aerodynamic flyers and all sorts in between. In my area there is a garden of Texas native pollinating plants, and I think they are doing their jobs quite well judging by the level of bug activity. But you can tell some clean up of the mandala has been done by humans because it looks too “pretty” and “organized” not like it would look if it would be left alone after planting. The bugs are harsh but nothing like the marshes of south Louisiana, or anything like the Amazon. But to us at this location that we are used too it seems like a lot. Just like someone from the Caribbean might not think it’s so hot in Florida but someone from Wisconsin would think Florida is boiling.

The post oaks are taking off with the springtime rush; they have changed substantially. They look fresh and flourishing instead of dry and dormant. Just being in their presence gives me a feeling of being tiny and fragile. They look so powerful and majestic, and every time I glance their way I can’t help but think about what kind of crazy vast roots systems they must have to hold themselves up. The grass hasn’t been cut. I think it looks better this way and more natural.

I’m starting to think the insects find me more attractive than the pollinating species.

Cattails Redux

Chris Buchanan - UNT Integrative Studies Major

I am sitting on the edge of the pond that lies at the center of my Mandala. It is halfway through the third week in April. The sun is out, the sky is blue and clear on this warm, spring afternoon. The turtles are active today, swimming around the pond energetically, as they search for food. Tiny Gambusia fish are everywhere, feeding on insects and other nutrients that are floating on the surface of the pond. The Gambusia fish are very small, “minnow-size,” but their bellies are quite large and round, nearly doubling their size. Gambusia fish are commonly referred to as mosquito fish because they feed on the larvae of mosquitos.

Cattails on the pond; photo by author.

Directly in front of where I am sitting, a small cluster of cattail plants are sprouting out of the water, surrounded by a short protective fence. Cattails are commonly found, clustered together in small groups in up to 2 ft. of water, in marshes and other wetlands throughout most of the world. Cattails are a very invasive species and they reproduce by using the wind to spread their fluffy seeds, and rhizomes, across the environment. The rhizomes quickly produce new shoots that grow into thick stands. Cattails flower from May through July. Their tiny flowers do not have petals and they are arranged into densely packed, cylindrical, spikes. The spikes are separated into male and female sections. In the spring, the male spike will detach from the plant after it sheds its pollen. Beginning in early fall, the flower enlarges into the large cylindrical brown head that we so commonly use to identify the species. After this, the head pops open, allowing the wind, water, and the force of gravity to spread its’ seeds and begin the process all over again.

Red Eared Sliders

Chris Buchanan - UNT Integrative Studies Major

I returned to my mandala for the first time since the cold winter days have given way to the warmer afternoons of spring. It is now April and a cool breeze welcomed me back as I sat down along the edge of the small concrete pond that lies at the center of my mandala. My goal was to observe the several small groups of cattails that inhabit the pond and apply some of the research that I conducted on the invasive species of water plants, when I was immediately distracted by multiple organisms swimming around the pond. They are red eared slider turtles. The first one that I observed was floating, motionless; gripping onto the metal fencing that surrounds, and protects, the group of cattails. I then spotted another, swimming away in the opposite direction of where I was sitting. Before this day, I hadn’t seen any turtles inhabiting the pond and immediately assumed that they must be far less active during the winter.

Red eared slider at EESAT by the author.

While pondering the whereabouts of the turtles during the winter, I observed a third red eared slider swimming directly towards me. When it reached the edge of the pond, and the foot high cement wall separating it from myself, the turtle began swimming back and forth along the edge. At first I assumed that the turtle was investigating my presence in the mandala, then remembered the fact that almost every afternoon that I walked past the small body of water, I saw dozens of grade school children around the pond on field trips. Upon remembering this fact, I realized that the turtle was most likely searching for food, hoping that I would toss it what was left of my lunch. I then decided to test this theory by sticking my finger down to the edge of the water, where the turtle continued to swim back and forth. At first, it was curious and investigated the strange object that was hanging a centimeter away from its face. The turtle quickly decided that my hand was either a direct threat to its survival, or a potentially valuable food source, and snapped its tiny green mouth in the direction of my finger. Knowing that this was a very likely possibility, I was alert, and managed to pull my finger back in time before the turtle clamped down on my index finger. The reaction of the turtle led me to believe that it had grown accustomed to recognizing human visitors in its habitat as potential providers of food.

Sprouts

Jacob Korte - UNT History Major

Most of the flower variety which was present last week is gone. The henbit is still here, as are the clovers, although they have lost their flowers. The trees, including the cottonwood, are much greener now, amazingly so considering it has only been a week since I was last here. Likewise the Mexican plums have lost their weird, spikey looking flowers and are now just green bushes in appearance. There are some small beginnings of plum fruit on the branches, but they are not close to the size they will be once they are fully matured. It is windy and just recently rained and I haven’t seen a single ant around, there are several roly-poly bugs crawling around the Mandala. On the ground at the base of the plums, green shoots/sprouts have appeared which have a leaf structure very similar to the plums. Most likely they are new plums that landed near the base of the parent plant. There is a bird in the cottonwood which has been singing the same song for about five minutes, with roughly 20 second gaps in between repeats. It reminded me of the meeting we had with Dr. Haskell earlier today, and I wonder if he could have told me what the bird was.

Megafauna Ghost

Skip Warren - UNT History Major

Spring growth from ground hugging plants has now obscured the feet of Bison antiquus. Not a real one of course as the last of his kind died near the start of the Holocene here in North America. This example is a somewhat wobbly full size abstract sculpted in metal. Heavy. I couldn’t help but think he could be standing exactly where one walked 11,000 years ago. As I stand next to him (I assume it is a “him”) my head falls two feet short of his height at the shoulder. Just about the perfect proportion. The artist has elected to not include the horns for whatever reason. They normally would have had a span of between three to four feet and they were never shed. 

Bison antiquus had two predecessors, Bison priscus and Bison latifrons. Bison priscus managed to migrate from the Russian Steppes over the Bering Land Bridge where a 36,000 year old example was found in Alaska. Bison latifrons has been found as far south as present day Kentucky. Latifrons was a cousin of Antiquus and their existence here in North America actually overlapped. Unlike their cousin, Latifron’s horn span could reach nearly eight feet. Both however could weigh up to 2400 pounds. Their habitat is thought to have been different with Latifrons preferring forested areas (browser) and Antiquus choosing the plains (grazer).

Most are familiar with theories of human predation as being responsible for megafauna extinction. It is much more likely that changing environmental conditions brought during the Holocene is the major culprit. For instance archaeologist Dave Meltzer, using mammoth as example, has suggested that due to the dangers brought about by hunting large game, Clovis people most likely brought down one mammoth in their hunting career and then talked about it the rest of their lives. What is just as interesting are studies done on Antiquus skeletons that suggest dwindling populations brought on inbreeding which caused deformities to develop in skulls, horns and teeth. Ancient animals including man have long shown evidence that tooth health directly affected longevity. Combined with various diseases, predation by large cats and bears, a challenging environment and man, Latifrons and Antiquus lost out in transmitting genes that survived, though their smaller modern cousins Bison bison are alive today.