December 2004

December 2004

The month of darkness. Nature slides inexorably toward its shortest day. But alas, that is our perception. To others, the shortest day is the longest night. Do nocturnal animals rejoice in the gift of time?

In the darkness of our campus forest, deer mice make their way amongst the ground litter looking for seeds, a slow moving insect, dried fruit, or a bit a fungi. Voles, relatives of the mice, but with small eyes and ears, scurry about as well. They are probably the most numerous mammal on campus, yet few of us ever see them.

For the most part, the night belongs to the mammals, but there are notable exceptions. Great horned owls pass through campus in their silent search for food. A few weeks ago a small band of lucky souls glimpsed a pygmy owl. Smallest of the Oregon owls -- this one looked down on us with calmness. His head turned from front to back, and we were surprised to see two more eyes looking at us--dark feathers mimicking the working set in front. Fooled only briefly, the eyes reminded us that for a small predator the night (and day) is also a dangerous time--nature's reality, predator is prey. It all depends.

December, the month of darkness, but not despair. It is neither shortest day nor longest night, but merely a changing pattern of light.