We hope you will enjoy this late summer walk along the Tree Trail at the Loblolly Marsh Nature Preserve. The woods and the Tree Trail is owned by the Friends of the Limberlost. Thank you to all those that have made this trail possible. A special thanks to Bill Hubbard for volunteering for the Friends and for identifying the trees.
Looking up into the tree canopy.
Early goldenrod growing along the trail.
The first tinge of fall color in the leaves.
Photos by Terri Gorney.
For several years I’ve been responsible for the U.S.G.S. Breeding Bird Survey in Berne. The BBS is conducted across the country in late May through early July – after the migratory birds have passed through and only the breeding birds remain. The intent of the survey is to determine the trends in the bird populations. Are the populations of invasive species like house sparrows growing exponentially? Are the birds breeding further north due to global warming? Are formerly rare birds making a comeback? The data collected by each surveyor is entered into a national database giving us answers to these and other questions by providing a more complete picture of the trends across the country.
Surveyors are experienced birders who can identify birds accurately, not just by sight, but also by ear. Often the birds can only be heard, so knowing the vocalizations of each species is important in order to record thorough results.
Each surveyor has a prescribed route of 25 miles with 50 testing points at about every half mile. The route and testing points are set at the national level, so they unfortunately miss some of the best birding sites like Limberlost. At each testing point, the surveyor has just 3 minutes to record every species and the number of individual birds within a quarter mile of that location, along with the number of cars passing by, the wind speed, cloud cover, and temperature. Testing is supposed to begin at exactly one-half hour before sunrise. There were testing places along my route that were noisy and somewhat dangerous due to traffic, and the people I encountered ranged from curious to suspicious about my presence.
My route (#35020) took me through mostly farmland, although there were some wooded areas, creeks, ponds, and grasslands now and then. There were certain locations where I could always depend on certain birds to be nesting year after year, and there were some surprises now and then. Some of the highlights, especially in the beginning, were Yellow-billed Cuckoo, Red-eyed Vireo, Warbling Vireo, Chimney Swift, Vesper Sparrow, Grasshopper Sparrow, Orchard oriole, Wood Duck, and Dickcissel. As the years went on, however, the trends I noticed on my route were striking and saddening. Some of the bird species could no longer be found. I could relate to the feelings of despair that Gene felt a she watched helplessly while her beloved swamp was destroyed in the name of progress.
When I first conducted the survey, I was delighted to find Bobolinks in a grasslands, Rough-winged Swallows under a lightly-wooded bridge, and bluebirds nesting at a farmhouse. In later years, the grasslands were mowed down and turned into cow pasture and cropland, so the bobolinks were no more. The trees were chopped down to make more farmland so the swallows disappeared. The house with the bluebird nesting boxes changed hands and the new owners had no interest in birds, so house sparrows took over.
The variety of species diminished in such a short span of time due to just a few changes in land use. Watching the effect made me appreciate places like Limberlost all the more. With birds losing ground to “progress”, having a reliable habitat like Limberlost becomes critically important to the survival of many species of birds mammals, reptiles, amphibians, insects, and plants.
This year, I’m passing the torch to Terri Gorney – Limberlost historian and modern day Gene. I am hoping that during her tenure, people become more aware of the interconnected nature of the planet; when one species disappears we are all affected. Gene knew this, and the Friends know this. Hopefully someday soon everyone will understand how important it is to preserve habitats so that future generations will be able to enjoy the sight and sounds of Gene’s beloved feathered friends.
Dickcissel
Bobolink
Wood Duck by Kimberley Roll
Vesper Sparrow by Kimberley Roll
Gene Stratton-Porter wrote the poem “The Lights of Lincoln Park.” It was the last poem in Mary DeJong Obuchowski’s book Field O’My Dreams: the Poetry of Gene Stratton Porter. The poem was not published in Gene’s lifetime.
In August 2019, Terri Gorney uncovered that the verse was written and read by Gene on May 17 1921 at the celebration of the turning on of electric lights at Lincoln Park in Los Angeles.
Adrienne Provenzano did some research and discovered that Lincoln Park was first known as Eastlake. She found the photographs included after Gene’s poem.
We hope that knowing the background story of the poem will give one greater appreciation and enjoyment in reading the poem.
The Lights of Lincoln Park
Los Angeles is saucy jade,
Shaking down her golden hair,
To veil the splendour of her face,
High set on mountains fair.
Her lips are sweet pomegranate bloom,
Her fingers beckoning canyons meet,
Her knees in radiant gardens bend,
The sea frolics at her feet.
Her great heart beats with pulsing throes,
Her million small hearts feel,
The brocades of her ruffled skirts,
All tropic wealth reveal.
She wears upon her eagre breast,
An emerald of wondrous green,
Quaint carved with oak and pepper tree,
With swamp and lillied lake serene.
A jewel raying diamond lights,
Like fallen stars smiting the dark.
Lean low and tell me, Father Abraham,
Don’t you truly love your park?
This picture of Eastlake is from the California Historical Society’s collection.
Photograph from the Los Angeles Library photograph collection.
Photograph from the California Historical Society’s collection.
Charles and Geneva
The man behind the woman of the Limberlost mails her love letters for three years before they marry. She wears slacks when she carries her box camera into the loblolly. This woman who keeps stuffed eagles and herons in her writing room. He wears a bowtie and a gentleman’s hat in a photograph of his baseball team. Covers his face with a perfumed scarf to pose vulture chicks for her photographs. He finds gas in the lob to pay for her cabin. Hires a handyman to build her limestone fence. When she preserves marsh moths on black velvet, he mounts her collection on a wall across from their bed. Their lawn abounds with coneflowers and daylilies. With the acrobatics of cardinals and wrens. Every evening a parrot flits from writing room to conservatory. Every story she writes begins with flight across a blank page.
By Michael Brockley
Brenner
After Shiloh. After I’d seen too many cornfields razed by cannon balls. After the hollers of men dying slow and hard, I aimed at the Rebel colors, closed my eyes, and squeezed the trigger. By the time the Porters hired me as groundskeeper, I’d already failed to husband my wife and father my children. They gave me a room beside a stable with stirrups and buggy whips close to hand, and a small bed where loneliness might find comfort. The Bird Woman set me to building a fence around the cabin. I stacked limestone blocks but left gaps in the wall so chickadees and wrens could perch in the hollow spaces. A man can find a certain peace from stacking stones. From currying a carriage horse. From auguring holes for the martins in a birdhouse built from scraps. In the evenings I sat in a breezeway, waiting, for my war ghosts to settle the trouble in their souls. Once, a Carolina parakeet swooped through the boundary wall. I never saw it again.
By Michael Brockley
A Tour Guide Day at the Limberlost Cabin
I open the Cabin,
I pretend.
I say, “Good Morning.”
I say it low in case someone hears me.
Room by room I walk,
Flipping switches on and off.
Unlocking doors.
Down comes the Closed sign.
Swish, swish, swish.
Porches swept.
Check the rooms.
Set the thermostat.
Wait.
A car parks.
Sometimes just one traveler.
Often two.
Families.
Friends of the Friends.
Fans of stories written long ago.
Or just the Curious.
They come.
I tell the Porter story.
I introduce Gene, Charles and Jeannette
Room by room,
Story by story.
The Cabin plays its part.
The stories live.
The Porters live.
The visitors visit the past.
The Porters make new friends.
The guests leave.
Up goes the Closed sign.
Room by room I walk,
Flipping switches off and on.
Doors are locked.
I pretend.
I say, “Good Night.”
I say it low in case someone hears me.
By Jeanne E. Akins
Silk Butterfly
Silk butterfly on a writer’s desk,
Ink well and pen close by,
who would guess you were designed
To wipe the ink pen dry?
Beautiful and soft
Delicately styled
Too lovely to be ever used–
No ink marks are revealed.
Silk butterfly I’m glad,
Your owner was so wise,
To keep your beauty all in tact
To bless my happy eyes.
By Jeanne E. Akins
Shari Wagner Gardens
I’m plumbing poems
from your hearts
Letting the words
Find their way out
Turning the soil
In creative gardens
The same way I plowed
And planted my own one
Together we’ll harvest our written thoughts
Onto pages replete
With the words crafted
To make a word feast.
By Jeanne E. Akins
Gene’s Cricket Boot Jack – I
Most of your critters are light and they flutter,
But I am quite still: your heavy de-mudder.
A cricket of iron with two forward sprouts,
I’m here to relieve you of boots that ‘been out.
By Stacia Gorge
Gene’s Cricket Book Jack – II
Wisely,
she wore leather
and lived
each day
in the swamp.
You stood ready
each night,
to release
her confinement
that aided
her joy.
By Stacia Gorge
Conservatory
Place where magic gathers. Green winged
Being standing TALL, s p r e a d i n g w i d e
across their pews striving to touch the Light!
We bathe in life their vibrant overflow
Plants, trees, flowers in the conservatory
of the Stratton-Porter home.
By Karen Powell
Burled Wood Bureau
(or Timber Tension in the Limberlost)
CONSERVE these trees and wetlands of the Limberlost!
PRESERVE the butterflies, birds, and moths!
DESERVE now I the finest furniture and wood ply
that money made from my cries can by.
Stuffed Eagle
Once in flight,
Thanks to your bullet
I plummeted—-old school style,
Which means you don’t get up again
Even after the gamer reaches
the next level.
By Karen Powell
Charlie’s Arrowhead Collection
Stone points no longer hunting.
Objects hidden under soil for years now seeing the light of day.
Hours spent walking the fields to find.
Tedious chipping of stone on stone.
A man’s appreciation of an ancient craft.
Placing the points in a pleasing display.
A collection made in the 1900s of Points crafted thousands of years before.
By Melissa Fey
Limberlost
(A Land that I Love)
A magical place of land and waters where birds and bugs abound.
The sounds of nature, babbling brooks and calling birds,
Where native plants reclaim the deserted farmlands.
A place migrating birds rest before continuing their flight.
A place of quiet woods and forest floor,
Along with sunlit prairies full of blooms.
The stillness of Winter, blanketed in snow.
Frost etching patterns on the ice.
Wind forming mounds out of the snow.
Unseen animals leaving tracks to follow.
The Limberlost.
By Melissa Fey
Moths and Gene
Moths, delicate creatures, erratic flight and beautiful in color.
Gene’s fascination and waiting patiently for them to light.
Moths that only come out at night in the soft moonlight.
Gene excited to see her favorite Cecropia moth.
Moths feeding on sweet smelling nectar.
Gene expanding the world’s knowledge of these smallest of God’s creatures.
By Melissa Fey
Pheromone Phooling
(A short ode to a male moth that thought it was finding a mate only to discover Gene Stratton Porter ripe with spraying of pheromones from a female moth)
Is that a mate I smell?
From far away he flies,
He cannot tell
And hopes the wind won’t lie.
He arrives to find
Not the love he expects
Just a lady so kind
No reward for his treks.
By Melissa Fey
Poetry created at “Inside Gene Stratton-Porter’s Cabin” Poetry Workshop by Shari Wagner on July 13 2019.
Remember Gene Stratton-Porter
~Limberlost Cabin, Geneva, Indiana
Remember her placing the door knocker,
a replica from the Porter family home
on the cabin’s grand oak door. Remember her
turning the switch of the oil lamp to review
the day’s notes, when and where she saw
the new moth in the swamp. Remember
her hunting, not with rifle, but camera,
searching out the perfect shot of bird, moth,
all things nature. Remember her emerging
from the daylilies, stalks of thistle and burrs
clinging to her slacks, her leather boots.
Remember her hanging her prints in the kitchen.
smelling the chemicals, seeing the images,
cooking her recipes to feed her readers.
Remember her opening a wooden paint box,
dipping a brush into the sapphire of blue flag iris.
Remember her recording sights, sounds, and
sensations through words and more. Remember
her watering plants among insects and
the parrot’s attentive eye. Remember her
finding her paradise on the Wabash,
filling her home with the fascinating world
outside and around her, as if ravished
by a moonbeam. Remember her posing
for photos in fancy dress or working clothes,
comfortable in both. Remember her standing
in front of the dresser, carefully selecting
the amethyst cabochon from her collection
of long, bronze hair pins like the egret pulls
her perfect reed from the water.
—Collaborative Poem by Shari Wagner’s workshop
“Inside Gene Stratton-Porter’s Cabin,” 7-13-2019;
Jeanne Akins, Mike Brockley, Melissa Fey, Stacia Gorge,
Terri Gorney, Suzanne Hall, Karen Powell, Scott Vannoy
Wasp Nest in My Hand
Once a deadly chandelier
now it’s honeycomb
turned to ash, light
as paper, with the scent
of tobacco. It looks
like an ashtray
where I can stand
twenty cigarettes
side by side
in hexagons fitted
by master builders.
It bears
the pheromones
of wasps,
the improbable flight
of a dark pollinator.
—Collaborative Poem by Shari Wagner’s workshop
“Inside Gene Stratton-Porter’s Cabin,” 7-13-2019;
Jeanne Akins, Mike Brockley, Melissa Fey, Stacia Gorge,
Terri Gorney, Suzanne Hall, Karen Powell, Scott Vannoy
In a booklet from 1915 entitled Gene Stratton-Porter – A Little Story of the Life and Work and Ideals of the Bird Woman, noted Hoosier author explains that “Mrs. Porter’s first all-alone effort was printed in wabbly letters on the fly-leaf of an old grammar. It was entitled: “Ode to the Moon.” Not that I had an idea what an ‘ode’ was, other than that I had heard it discussed in the family together with different forms of poetic expression. The spelling must have been by proxy: but I did know the words I used, what they meant, and the idea I was trying to convey.”
This childhood creative effort that Gene Stratton-Porter speaks of has been lost to the ages, but from a young age, she appreciated the moon as surely as she observed and reflected upon so many other aspects of the natural world. What then, might she have thought about human beings traveling to the moon? While widely read, the genre of science fiction, such as the writings of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, did not seem to interest her. Perhaps it was midwestern practicality that kept her taste in literature elsewhere, still, I think her grit, determination, curiosity, wonder, attention to detail, and patience might have made her an effective astronaut, had the opportunity presented itself!
This year, NASA is celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 11 landing on the moon. On the evening of July 20, 1969, two humans stepped foot on the Moon for the first time. Those crew members of NASA’s Apollo 11 mission, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, left bootprints on the Moon’s surface during their two-and-a-half-hour field trip. As they worked, explored, and marveled, crew member Michael Collins remained in the command module, waiting for their return.
The trio launched atop a Saturn V rocket from Cape Canaveral in Florida on the morning of July 16, 1969 and completed their journey when they splashed down safely in the Pacific Ocean on July 24, 1969. It was a mission followed all over the world.
The landing site was called Tranquility Base. The lunar module was called the Eagle.The command module was called Columbia. When Neil Armstrong stated, “Houston, Tranquility Base here, the Eagle has landed,” there were cheers and sighs of relief.
So, where were you on July 20, 1969 when humans first walked on the moon? If you were alive at the time, were you watching on a black and white tv? Did you save the cover page of your local newspaper the next day? What story might you tell? What “Ode to the Moon” might you write? What ideas might you convey in “wabbly letters” on the “fly-leaf of an old grammar.”
Here’s something I imagine…a future mission to the Moon, or perhaps Mars, with a crew of women and men…”Houston, Limberlost Base here, the Blue Heron has landed.”
Adrienne Provenzano, Songstress of the Limberlost, is an Indiana Advanced Master Naturalist and volunteer NASA Solar System Ambassador. For more information about the 50th anniversary of Apollo 11, visit www.nasa.gov/specials/apollo50th.
June is a time of nesting birds at the Loblolly Marsh Nature Preserve and the other preserves in the Limberlost Territories. Gene Stratton-Porter photographed over 40 bird nests around Geneva in the early 20th century. She was patient and spent hours in the field to gain the female bird’s trust to be able to take photographs of the nests and the young birds.
We hope you will enjoy some of the past couple of days happenings at the Loblolly Marsh Nature Preserve.
Randy Lehman was able to take a series of photos of a red-bellied woodpecker feeding young on June 7.
The red-bellied woodpecker entered with food in the beak and left on another “food” run.
In this picture you can see food in the beak for the hatchlings.
Feeding the ever-hungry young. This nest is in a dead limb of a large oak tree.
This is the nest of a phoebe on the pavilion. We think the young fledged on June 6 or 7.
Last year, we thought that the blue grosbeak might have been nesting at the Loblolly Marsh Nature Preserve. In late May, Clara Conroy spotted a pair of them. On June 9, Bill Hubbard took this picture of male blue grosbeak.
Naturalist Bill Hubbard took this picture of a female blue grosbeak on June 9. On June 5, Kimberley Roll documented a female bird with nesting material.
On June 9, Bill Hubbard took this photo of a kingbird. They have been nesting at the Loblolly Marsh for the past few years.
Kingbird going after another insect. They are quick to spot an insect which makes a tasty meal for them.
Some of the other nesting birds at the Loblolly Marsh Nature Preserve are Orchard Orioles, Baltimore Orioles, Yellow Warblers, Common Yellowthroat, Great-crested Flycatchers, Willow Flycatchers, Warbling Vireos, Field Sparrows, Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, Song Sparrows, and a number of other birds.
Thank you to Randy Lehman, Bill Hubbard, Clara Conroy, and Kimberley Roll for sharing your finds with all. We know that Gene Stratton-Porter would be pleased that her feathered friends still make a home at Limberlost.
If you would like your own birding tour of the Loblolly Marsh, contact Naturalist Curt Burnette 260-368-7428 or cburnette@indianamuseum.org to schedule your own Rent-a-Naturalist.
If Gene Stratton-Porter were alive, she would enjoy the companionship of Kimberley Roll. They both enjoy being in the field and would discuss birds and photography in quiet moments.
Kimberley shared some of her pictures of her adventures the first weekend in June at the Lobololly Marsh Nature Preserve and the Limberlost Swamp Wetland Preserve.
Hooded mergansers and young.
Great picture of two young hooded mergansers. Is there anything cuter than babies?
Sora
Male wood duck
The Cormorant has become a common sight in the past few years.
Bald Eagle
Great Egret
Male dickcissel. One of our summer residents.
On June 1, Limberlost Naturalist Curt Burnette led his annual Loblolly Wildflower Safari. Retired Limberlost Site Manager Randy Lehman took pictures to share in this blog. Retired Ecologist Ken Brunswick also attended. There is a wealth of knowledge in those three men of Limberlost.
Randy made a list of plants along Veronica’s Trail. The plants are: Birdsfoot Trefoil, False Indigo, Rattlesnake Master, Prairie Dock, Beard Tongue, Philadelphia Fleabane, Trumpet Vine, Dandelion, Dogbane – Indian Hemp, Evening Primrose, Curly Dock, Read Canary Grass, Cattails, Blue Flag Iris, Golden Ragwort, Giant Ragweed, Wild Strawberries, Corn Salad, Multi-Flora Rose, Yarrow, Poison Ivy, new England Aster, Goldenrod, Shepherds Purse, Burdock, Autumn Olive, Japanese Honeysuckle, Blackberry, Raspberry, Wild Parsnip, Mulberry Tree, Common Milkweed, Clearweed, Yellow Rocket, Golden Alexander, White Clover, Red Clover, Bed-Straw, Yellow Sweet Clover, Pineapple Weed.
If you would like your own tour of the Loblolly Marsh Nature Preserve (or one of the other preserves) you can schedule Rent-a-Naturalist with Curt at 260-368-7428.
Beard Tongue
False Indigo
Blue Flag Iris was a favorite of Gene Stratton-Porter.
Rattlesnake Master which will be blooming soon.
Common milkweed which will be blooming soon. A favorite of Monarch butterflies.
Corn Salad
Prairie Dock
Each month this summer, new plants are blooming. We hope that you can spend some time enjoying the Loblolly Marsh Nature Preserve.
One of the many wonders of the digital age is the Internet search engine. Recently, I utilized one of these search engines by typing in the word “Limberlost” to see what kind of results would be returned to me. Of course, there were many entries regarding the Limberlost Swamp and Gene Stratton-Porter, but what really caught my interest were the many different places and things that had the word “Limberlost” in their names.
There are certainly a number of things in Adams County that incorporate Limberlost in their names, especially in the Geneva area. Limberlost Construction, Limberlost Apartments, the Golf Club of the Limberlost, and the newest, the Limberlost Diner in downtown Geneva, are all examples. On the east side of Decatur, near Stratton Park, can be found the street called Limberlost Trail. And there are several places similar to these in the Rome City area where Gene built her second cabin. But there are also Limberlosts in other Indiana cities. There is a Limberlost Drive in Carmel and one in Goshen, and a Limberlost Lane in West Lafayette. A business in Indianapolis has the name of Limberlost Consulting, Inc.
Other places in our region of the country with businesses or places having Limberlost in their names would include The Limberlost, a restaurant in Houghton Lake, Michigan, and Limberlost Farms in Atlanta, Michigan, also in Michigan look for Limberlost Road in Three Rivers and Limberlost Lane in Allegan. That covers examples in Indiana’s neighbor to the north. In our neighbor to the west, Illinois, Camp Limberlost has been located near Bloomington since 1931. And to our south will be found the Limberlost Chalet in Gatlinburg, Tennessee.
Farther afield in the U.S., in Tucson, Arizona, there is a neighborhood called Limberlost, containing Limberlost Drive, Limberlost Circle, and Limberlost Place, and such businesses as Limberlost Pre-school and Limberlost Studio Apartments. In the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, one can hike along the Limberlost Trail. In 1920, a woman bought 100 large hemlock trees in the land the trail runs through to preserve them from logging, and her husband named it the Limberlost Forest after A Girl of the Limberlost.
Use of the Limberlost name doesn’t end at the borders of our country. In Canada, the province of Ontario seems to be particularly Limberlost crazy. A company from there, Beaver Homes and Cottages, has a model called Limberlost. Limberlost Road can be found in London and Huntsville, Ontario. Near Huntsville is the Limberlost Forest and Wildlife Reserve, and if you wish to stay in the Limberlost Lodge, go to Thessalon. But if a person should really want to travel afar while still lodging in a place called Limberlost, book a room at the Limberlost Hotel in the seaside town of Wilderness, South Africa.
Well, there’s a taste of how Gene Stratton-Porter spread the name of the Limberlost around the country and the world. And, by the way, with the world in mind, I believe I might have to contact the Guinness Book of World Records. I wonder if there is a category called: greatest usage of the word “Limberlost” in a single newspaper column. If the record is under 39, I am the new world champion!
Source: This article was first published in the Berne Tri-Weekly (now the Berne Witness) in January 2015.
Friends of the Limberlost