There are a handful of reasons why I love volunteering on Christmas morning:

• My partner and I get to spend some time together away from the usual Christmas chaos,
• Volunteering when the museum is closed feels like a super-secret-behind-the-scenes-tour, and
• Butterflies are awesome.

When I was a kid I loved the excitement of sitting around the tree on Christmas morning and opening presents. As an adult it’s been hard to replicate that kind of excitement. Last year, my partner and I decided to volunteer in the Butterfly Lab on Christmas morning… and it was AMAZING.

When we walked into the lab, there was a moment of wonder and excitement as we took a peek into the case to see who had emerged overnight. The flurry of color was just so beautiful. The butterflies looked like little presents that had been opened just for us!

Although I enjoy volunteering in the lab throughout the year, there’s something special about doing it on Christmas morning. I love turning on some Christmas carols, rolling up my sleeves, and getting to work. It’s a great new holiday tradition, and I can't wait for my shift this year!

Jen Walsh
Butterfly Lab Volunteer

The focus of the Winter Solstice is often that it is the shortest day of the year, the day with the most darkness and least sunlight. I, however, prefer to think of it as an essential day to be celebrated. Without the tilting of the earth’s axis, we would not have the four distinct seasons that give us so much joy here in Chicago.

For thousands of years, the Winter Solstice and nature’s harvest have been celebrated by cultures all over the world.  The day signifies nature’s rhythm; it’s a time of growth and renewal as the days begin to lengthen and plants and animals begins its push through winter to ensure a bountiful spring.

During the peak of the holiday season – when people tend to feel stressed with last-minute details – the Winter Solstice is a reminder to pause, rejuvenate and reconnect with nature.

And where better to do that than right here at the Nature Museum, the urban gateway to nature and science.

In recognition of the Winter Solstice today, the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum is celebrating its significance to nature with two days of activities. We invite everyone to join in on the fun.

• Friday, 10:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m.: Hot cider, Make Your Own Bird Feeder, Critter Connections.

• Saturday, 11 a.m. to 1:30 p.m.: Green gifting and hot cider.

Happy Winter Solstice, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year.

Naturally,

Deb Lahey

As the holidays near, it’s even more important to consider the impact that our choices have on the environment. Between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, an additional 1 million tons of waste is generated per week in the U.S. This waste includes things like shopping bags, ribbon, wrapping paper, and over 2 billion holiday cards[1]

So what can the average person do to reduce their own holiday impact? The good news is that there are many ways to make a difference.

• Don’t forget your reusable shopping bags! Keep disposables out of the landfill by bringing a cloth bag, or reusing those grocery bags you have stashed under the cabinet.
• Use newsprint to wrap gifts. Try the funny papers- it’s a unique and often unexpected way to package gifts that will help yours stand out.
• Make your own holiday cards by “up cycling”! Save cards you receive throughout the year- cut them, tear them, and paste the pieces together to create new, one-of-a-kind designs.
• Buy rechargeable batteries to accompany any electronics, and consider including a battery charger as part of the gift.
• Consider durability and recyclability of gifts before you purchase. If it isn’t expected to last for years, can it be recycled?[2]

Challenge your family to try one (or more) of these tips this holiday season and see what a difference it makes. Children can participate by keeping track of how many bags, rolls of wrapping paper & holiday cards you’ve saved from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day.

It’s Sunday afternoon and I have helped a group of second graders spot the queen of our leaf-cutter ant colony, held two fox snakes, acted as a perch for a bunch of newly hatched butterflies not quite ready to fly, and fed no less than three box turtles. What do you do on your day off? I am a Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum Public Interpretive Programs Volunteer, or just PIPster for short.

I'm also a biology student working my way through school and busier than one of our rooftop honeybees. With work, school, and taking care of my canary, Ladybird, my week can be a little hectic. Yet, I have made it a priority to volunteer for the Nature Museum every Sunday.

I began volunteering here last spring after meeting a few past volunteers who couldn’t say enough good things about the Museum. As a newer student to biology, I had been searching for a way to get more experience to compliment my interest in local wildlife -- something more than a laboratory internship or research assistantship. Boy, did I hit the jackpot.

Working as a PIP volunteer truly compliments the material I am learning in the classroom, but provides more of a hands-on perspective. Instead of reading about the territorial nature of red-winged blackbirds during the breeding season, I get to witness firsthand what happens when my coworkers venture too close to a nest while exploring the prairie (think Alfred Hitchcock).

Working for the Museum has also solidified my desire to pursue a career in the wildlife rehabilitation field. Beginning my studies as a biologist, the most important thing that fueled me was my desire to affect this planet in a positive way through some kind of conservation effort; I just wasn’t sure how I could make that a reality. Saving all of the Bengal tigers in Nepal is a bit daunting for a 20 year old in Illinois to contemplate, you know?

When I began talking to my fellow volunteers and really dove into what the Nature Museum is about -- preserving and protecting native Illinois wildlife while giving the public an opportunity for an authentic connection to nature -- that is when I found that concentrating on a local level is much more approachable to someone like me, and probably you as well.

That is why I volunteer for the Nature Museum every Sunday. I get to introduce people to an amphibian they never even knew existed, let alone knew was in their backyard. I get to see the absolute wonder mixed with terror on a kindergartener’s face as they feel the scales on a snake for the first time. Volunteering as a PIPster is an amazing opportunity I wouldn’t have had in any other city, because there is no city that has a nature museum quite like ours here in Chicago.

Autumn in New York
Why does it seem so inviting?

Billie Holliday sang the praises of fall in the Big Apple, and if a recent weekend was any indication, it would be hard to disagree (though some might this year, thanks to hurricane Sandy.) There is something agreeably evocative about brownstone stoops strewn with cast off foliage and planetree leaves chattering down the sidewalk on a fresh breeze. On the way to JFK after a weekend with family, I took a detour to Brooklyn Botanic Garden to revel in the sunshine and autumn color, and while the grounds had sadly suffered a number of tree falls from the storm, it was nonetheless a lovely afternoon.

The Garden was quiet and felt particularly dignified, perhaps due to the somber hues of drying leaves and the lack of energetic floral activity. However, one stop on my circuit of the Plant Families Garden sent me into fits of decidedly indecorous laughter. A grand, gnarled old tree – perhaps the largest and oldest on the grounds, and a species I was previously unfamiliar with – was earnestly labeled with its scientific name, Pterocarya fraxinifolia, and its common name, Caucasian Wingnut.

While “Caucasian Wingnut” is a label some might choose to apply broadly, it seems a bit unfair to condemn an entire species to derogatory snickers and finger pointing. But at least the CWs, as I will mercifully abbreviate them, have plenty of company. Many a plant has endured a lifetime of awkward introductions at cocktail parties. Pity the poor Mountain Misery, Midnight Horror Tree, Beggar’s Tick, Corpse Flower, Mal Mujer, Crybaby Tree, Lousewort, Fly Poison, or Pleuro amparoana, also known as the Toilet Bowl Orchid.

Deservedly or not, other species have fared quite well in the name game, such as Balm of Gilead, Fairy Petticoats, Sorrowless Tree, Enchanter’s Nightshade, Venus’ Looking Glass, Kiss Me Over the Garden Gate, and a favorite here on the Museum's grounds, the Rattlesnake Master. Euphorbia leucocephala has it particularly good.  Its many common names include Snows of Kilimanjaro, Christ Child, and Little Christmas Flower. Other plants must get a lot of confused stares from doormen and receptionists:  Ramping Fumitory, Moses in a Boat, Napoleon’s Hat, Monkey Puzzle, and Rat Stripper to name a few.

There are scientific names – always Latinized – that take the cake in both lyricism and absurdity.  Consider the poetic qualities of words such as Dasylirion, Mandragora, Bauhinia, Ipheon, and Vitex agnus castus, which translates to “chaste lamb of life.” Dread the doubtless horrors of Dracula nosferatu and Monstera deliciosa. Or, try some lingual calisthenics with a couple of cactus species, Weberbauerocereus cephalomacrostibas and Austrocephalocereus dolichospermatichus. Quiz tomorrow. Spelling counts.

But back to New York and our dear CW. No matter how ridiculous its name, the tree I visited that afternoon was remarkable – venerable, steadfast, antediluvian. Perhaps we should thank Sandy for sparing it, but then, the tree has surely stood strong in the face of many storms. And perhaps, with maturity, it’s learned to laugh at its awkward moniker and even appreciate the chuckles of passersby. They say laughter is the secret to long life. Maybe this Wingnut is living proof.

Seth Harper
Horticulturist

A couple of years ago, I taught a lesson about Midwest ecosystems in a fourth grade classroom on the far south side. Two weeks later, I returned to the same classroom, but before I could make it through the door, several students began excitedly shouting, “We saw a wetland! We saw a wetland!  It’s right behind the school!”  (And I’m not talking about moderate excitement; they were “I just won a million dollars” excited!)  They couldn’t believe that the wetlands they had learned about in the classroom – cattails, ducks, and all – could be found right here in their neighborhood. Just behind their school, stuck in between the busy city streets, here’s what they had found:

Over the past several years, we’ve ramped up our efforts to connect students to the nature in their neighborhoods. Last month, as part of these efforts, I traveled around Chicago to photograph wetlands in different areas of the city. We know that many teachers aren’t able to take their students to visit wetlands, so we wanted a chance to bring those wetlands – the ones right in their neighborhoods - into the classrooms. 

Can kids who live near McKinley Park learn to appreciate that their local wetland supports living things that aren’t found on most city blocks?

Can students in Lincoln Park get excited about turtles sunning themselves near their school?

Can school kids on the northwest side learn about bird migration by studying a Green Heron in Humboldt Park?

We think we have the answers to these questions: YES! ABSOLUTELY! OF COURSE!  But let’s not forget that these connections to nature are always there, waiting for people to experience them, and not just in schools. Get out there and find out what’s going on with the nature in your neighborhood, and when you find something cool (which you certainly will!), we want to hear about it!

Kristi Backe
Curriculum Coordinator