By Holly Einess
The tulips at the entrance to the Arboretum are only beginning to come up, but there are plenty of daffodils in bloom. The gate attendant scans my ticket and tells me that I just missed a little rain shower. As I drive down to the lower parking lot I see a patch of periwinkle-colored blossoms in the grass near the picnic shelter—Siberian squill (aka scilla). I have mixed feelings about this plant; I love its color, and that it blooms early. However, it is non-native and invasive, and Arboretum staff and volunteers are working to remove it.
As I walk toward the Sensory Garden a large bird flies right in front of me and lands on a signpost—a female pileated woodpecker. I wonder if she’s the same one I saw here a few weeks ago, along with a male. Perhaps they’re planning to raise young nearby; I’ll keep an eye out for a large excavated hole in a dead tree (the pileated’s favored nesting site).
Raindrops start to fall, then small hailstones, bouncing off the pavement. This lasts only a few minutes before the sun peeks out, and with it a variety of birds appear. First a ruby-crowned kinglet, hopping on the forest floor. Then a brown creeper, making its way up a tree. A yellow-rumped warbler alights briefly on the garden fence, and a red-bellied woodpecker searches for insects. Nuthatches and chickadees call and flit, and I hear the “Old-Sam-Peabody-Peabody” song of the white-throated sparrow.
A few yellow and white trout lilies are in bloom, thin stems pushing their way up through the leaf litter. These plants get their name from the mottled appearance of their leaves, which resemble the coloring of a brown trout. A third variety found here is the dwarf trout lily. This plant is extremely rare; it is endemic to just three counties in southern Minnesota, and was transplanted here at the Arb and also at Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden.
Other spring ephemerals in bloom include bloodroot, hepatica, snow trillium, and Dutchman’s breeches. All of these early blooming woodland plants take advantage of the sunlight available to them before the surrounding trees leaf out.
Clockwise from upper left: bloodroot, hepatica, snow trillium, Dutchman’s breeches
Frogs call intermittently from the nearby woodland pond. The call of the chorus frog sounds like a thumb being dragged across the teeth of a comb. Today the call is slow; when the water warms, the speed will increase. Wood frogs are also calling; they sound a lot like a quacking duck. Speaking of which, a pair of mallards is wading through the shallow water that feeds into the garden’s stream, the female probing the mud with her bill.
On Green Heron Pond a blue-winged teal pair is swimming, the large white crescent on the male’s cheek easily visible even from a distance. At the lookout platform I hear rustling and splashing among the dried reeds below and am surprised to see a racoon emerge. I must have startled it, for it takes off at a run for the boardwalk and disappears beneath it.
The now-setting sun casts a golden glow on the landscape, promising warmer days ahead. The cold, wet weather may have delayed the profusion of color we’re longing for, but spring will surely have her way soon!
Holly Einess is a Minnesota Master Naturalist Volunteer.