Sure, before when I’ve talked about poetry, I touched on figurative language and imagery, but what if you’re experiencing a plant or animal for the first time? Maybe you don’t have a huge reference book to gloss through to pinpoint the name of a specific tree you pass or don’t have enough time to take a photo before a peculiar looking bird flits off through the trees. First of all, if you’re unsure of what you’re encountering don’t. Touch. It. While this is important in case of toxic plants that could cause allergic reactions or bad rashes (thinking of the infamous poison ivy or the nasty giant hogweed), this goes double for wild animals. Don’t go chasing after a baby black bear just to get a better photo, or I will feel no sympathy when Mama Bear eats you for dinner. In this post, we’ll look at different ways you can observe and describe nature without being that guy. Hopefully, you’ll be able to train an observable eye that will aid you in not only writing about your subject of choice, but also understand nature better in general.
First of all, Both Parks Canada and the US National Park Service gives simple to follow and understand tips on how to safely view wildlife. Both stress the importance, just as I have, to “know before you go” (National Park Service). This means not only knowing the guidelines of each park, but also knowing what kind of animals to expect when visiting. Both sites are firm with leaving the wildlife alone, with Parks Canada pointing out that feeding wildlife in a Canadian national park—whether directly or indirectly by not properly storing food away—is illegal under the Canada National Parks Act and you could be charged. (Parks Canada). This means giving animals their space, with the National Park Service saying a minimum 25 yards (23 metres) for most wildlife and 100 yards (91 metres) for predators like bears and wolves (National Park Service). This also means keeping any pets on a leash, no drones (they’re actually prohibited in all Parks Canada places and you could pay a fine up to $25 000 if caught), staying on designated trails, staying alert and aware of your surroundings, and not surprising any animals (Parks Canada). Don’t “touch, tease, frighten, or intentionally disturb” the animals (National Park Service). Honestly, just don’t be a dick. If you’re having trouble seeing an animal, use the zoom on your smartphone’s camera or invest in a pair of binoculars. Treat all wildlife like a strange drunk at a bar: keep your distance, don’t provoke, and if they look sick or injured, tell someone.
Now, just because a living thing isn’t sentient in the way we define sentience (a whole essay or slew of them would be needed to talk about that), doesn’t mean it isn’t worthy of the same respect as any moose, bear, wolf, chipmunk, deer, frog, salamander, owl, or loon you may come across. You may be able to get closer to moss, fungi, trees, shrubs, flowers or any other plant you may want to observe, but just like they teach you in kindergarten, keep your hands to yourself. This isn’t just for the health of the plant however, but also for you own. Even if you don’t think a plant is poisonous, many plants can have toxic look-alikes. Hopefully I’ve instilled enough caution into you about not going around shouting at a bull moose, poking Massasauga rattlesnakes with sticks, or licking random trees to venture forth.
Even if you don’t plan on becoming a naturalist or conservationist professionally, understanding their tricks and tools of the trade will be paramount to bettering your personal understanding of your subjects of choice. Even simple tools like a pair of binoculars, a magnifying class, and a handy notebook and pencil at the ready can be helpful to safely observing flora or fauna. As long as you know what you’re looking for and what region you’re looking in, field guides are invaluable tools to help you in identification. They offer pictures and illustrations along short descriptions to help identify quickly, and tend to be smaller in size to make for better travel-ability. Of course, a camera can make that even easier if you don’t have access to a multitude of field guides while in the field that could be used for later identification. Sometimes you can even cut out the middleman between those tools and use identification apps right off your smartphone like PictureThis and PlantSnap. These are two apps for plants specifically my sister and I have used in the past, which you can use for free, but obviously more bells and whistles are offered if you pay. One of the highest rated apps for both animals and plants I found was Seek by iNaturalist. It doesn’t offer any in-app purchases as far as I can tell, and you can use it without even making an account. It even gamifies collecting pictures of different species with achievements and challenges, and is definitely worth a download as long as you understand that these kinds of apps use algorithms and community input to function, so just like Wikipedia, you will need further investigate your query.
To help figure out what you might be looking at, you’ll have to break it down into parts—no, not literally you sadist—you’ll have to look at the individual parts that make up your query, what might make it unique, and catalogue them to the best of your ability. Part of what can help with that is looking at taxonomy, “the science of classification, but more strictly the classification of living and extinct organisms” (Cain). We group animals today through the Linnaean system of classification, which breaks down into hierarchies of domain, kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, and species. Some fun mnemonics to remember these (minus domain, as it is new to the binomial nomenclature party) are: Kids Prefer Cheese Over Fried Green Spinach; Koalas Prefer Chocolate Or Fruit, Generally Speaking; King Philip Came Over For Good Spaghetti; and (my personal favourite) Keeping Precious Creatures Organized for Grumpy Scientists (Nelson).
To sort out what all those words mean, let’s use this Linnaean system to look at one of my favourite animals, the Common Loon:
Domain: Eukayote
Kingdom: Animalia
Phylum: Chordata
Class: Aves
Order: Gaviiformes
Family: Gaviidae
Genus: Gavia
Species: Gavia immer aka Colimbo mayor, Common Loon, Great Northern Loon, Great Northern Diver, Plongeon huard
(Integrated Taxonomic Information System on-line database)
The source I pulled from also mentioned other hierarchies, and neglected domain, but I’m keeping it simple to the classifications more well-known. Over the following paragraphs, we’ll classify a loon into its essentials.
Domain is the largest of all classifications and is broken down into three groups: Archaea domain, Bacteria domain, and Eurkarya domain. Archaea and Bacteria represent the vast majority of living things, with Archaea being “bacteria-like” but having a “distinct biochemistry which distinguishes them from bacteria. These organisms thrive in environments that’d be extremely hostile to others, such as in highly salty environments or at extreme temperatures. Bacteria (also known as prokaryotes) are characterized by “having no distinguished organelles or membrane-bound nucleus.” This is possibly the largest domain with millions, if not billions of species within it. By contrast, Eukaryotes are the group that the Great Northern Diver and you and I are from. Our cells have “a membrane bound nucleus and organelles” (Biologydictionary.net Editors). We now know that a loon is not Bacteria or Archaea because of the structure of our cells, and while that isn’t likely to aid you much when trying to describe a loon in a poem or essay, each subsequent classification also tells us what a loon is not until we’ve widdled it down to species.
Domain is followed by Kingdom, which, under the Eurkarya, has four kingdoms: Prostista, Animalia, Plantae, and Fungi. We and loons are a part of the Animalia kingdom, which includes all animals (duh). They are multicellular eukaryotic organisms that differ from Plantae and Fungi largely because animals developed muscles, tissues, and organ systems (Maiorana). Plantae and Fungi are pretty self-explanatory, Plantae being characterized by photosynthetic nutrition, “essentially unlimited growth at localized regions, cells that are rigid as compared to the cells of those in the Animalia kingdom, and an absence of locomotion and nervous systems (Yopp), and Fungi including “yeasts, rusts, smuts, mildews, molds, and mushrooms” (Moore). Prostista appears to be the miscellaneous Kingdom, as they can share some characteristics of animals or plants or both and frequently are single-celled (Britannica).
Next, we move onto Phylums, of which the Common Loon belongs to the Chordata phylum, and here’s where us homo sapiens split off from the common loon. A Chordate will, at some time in its life, have a “stiff, dorsal supporting rod (the notochord).” Other characteristics include a tail that extends behind and above the anus, a hollow nerve cord above the gut, gill slits opening from the pharynx to the exterior, and an endostyle (“a mucus-secreting structure”) (Ghiselin). Now, likely, most of that sounds like gibberish to the average person, but if one really wants to get into what makes a Common Loon tick, inside and out, it’ll be worth diving into. From here on out, I’ll not be mentioning every class, order, family genus, and species or we will be here all day.
Loons are a part of the Aves class, which is basically birds. “Class Aves contains 28 orders, 163 families, 1,975 genera, and nearly 10, 000 species” (Lanoue). Order follows class, and so loons are a part of the Gaviiformes order, meaning, well, loons. Loons are characterized by:
medium to large sized, foot-propelled diving waterbirds that feed mainly on fish. Foot placement is far posterior, making walking on land difficult. Bills are sharp and dagger-like. Alternate (breeding) plumage is boldly patterned with black, white and gray; nonbreeding plumages are drab gray-brown and white. All have brilliant red iris in alternate plumage, and distinctive eerie vocalizations.
(Gaviiformes (Loons))
We can see now, with order, how much more specific we get, with there being a shared specific size, habitat, and overall physical characteristics. Now, we have only 1 genus and 5 species to follow (Gaviiformes (Loons)). That one genus is Gavia, and then we come to the fancy Latin name you call a Common Loon if you’re a scientist, a Gavia immer, the species name specific to the more commonly named Common Loon.
Of course, in explaining all that, it’ll feel abstract when you’re actually in the field, and to ask anyone to remember every classification an animal may be under would be asking a lot, but being able to research this all after you’ve observed your query will aid you on your quest to write more wholly about them. You’re going to have to operate in a different sphere of thinking than what you may operate in the worlds of art and politics: don’t keep an open mind. You’re not going to find a Maple tree near the North Pole and you’re not going to find a polar bear in the middle of a desert outside of some zoo. Pete Dunne, the vice president of the New Jersey Audubon Society and director of its Cap May Bird Observatory tells us that experienced birders take
their accumulated knowledge and experience to enable them to predict which birds they are likely to encounter based on location, habit, and time of year (among other clues). And because they are able to go into the field juggling fewer variables, the identification process is greatly simplified for them.”
Dunne
Dunne suggests that before we even try to distinguish the finer points of the species, we should be thinking about a bird’s “biological backdrop”, which includes status, distribution, habitat, cohabitants, and movements/migration (Dunne). This allows us to cross off what a species is not, much like we did when we looked at the taxonomy of the Common Loon above. Then, and only then, do we get into the nitty-gritty of all the parts and details mentioned in your average field guide. Not to worry however, as most field guides will give you some general information on a species if you’re inexperienced. Dunne’s advice when identifying similar bird species is valuable for anything you might want to try to identify or describe and acts like you’re painting a picture: start with broad strokes and add in the minute details later.
For Fauna
In doing research for this post, I brought home two field guides from my local library: Ross D. MacCulloch’s The ROM Field Guide to Amphibians and Reptiles of Ontario and Roger Tory Peterson’s Peterson Field Guide to the Birds of North America. Both guides break their focus animals of choice into parts: MacCulloch distinguishes the different characteristics of amphibian and reptile reproduction, metamorphosis, skin, diet, and metabolism in general, speaks on the challenges of viewing them depending on season, where some species are best observed, and breaks each entry down into appearance, habitat and behavior, reproduction, and status (MacCulloch) while Peterson goes even more into depth, suggesting a breakdown of the bird’s size, body shape, wing shape, bill shape, tail shape, its field marks, tail pattern, rump patch, eye stripes and eye-ring, wing bars, wing pattern, and behavior (how does it hold its tail, does it climb trees, how does it fly, does it swim, does it wade, what songs or calls does it sing, what does its nest look like, what is its range and habitat, is there subspecies and geographic variations?) (Peterson). This gives you just a taste of the amount of depth you can truly go into. Of course, you may not know what an animals reproductive habits are or how their colouration may change over the course of a year, so it’ll be just as important to note the “when” and “where” as it will be the “what.”
While all we’ve mentioned up to this point is all well and good, how do you take all that information, whether that be what you observe or research later, and make it “poetic” or “literary” for your readers who are expecting a read that won’t sound like some biology textbook? It’s your personal experiences and impressions of the subject, whether you get a brief glimpse of a bear disappearing into the trees next to a badly-kept campsite in your campground, are surprised by the high-pitched rattle of a baby Massasauga rattlesnake near Tobermory, or watch warily as a dock spider the size of your hand rests in a crack of an old concrete pier forgotten by time. You can’t always “write what you know,” but using what you can will inform your use of imagery and figurative language, making it unique from any other person who chooses to write on the same subject. As mentioned in “At Poetry’s Roots,” imagery, whether you describe something through sight, sound, taste, touch or smell, is key to getting readers to relate on a viscerally emotional level. Try to place yourself in those moments the lines between you and nature became blurred and try to recreate it with words for someone else, whether you’re writing verse or not. Something that will aid that imagery is the use of figurative language. I feel that, at least in my own experience, it is hugely tempting to use personification when trying to describe non-human beings. It’s a very quick way to create relatability between reader and subject, and blur that human-created separation between nature and us, but in doing so, by creating that connection, we can lose what makes that animal, plant, or place unique and stops us from thinking about things outside of an anthropocentric perspective. Of course, it’ll depend on what you’re trying to achieve with your writing. Saying that, metaphor and simile can play a huge role in trying to set the impression and tone of a subject. It can create relatability without necessarily connecting an animal directly with humans. Like all tools you might use to write with however, it’s important to create a balance between avoiding how things are typically described (as in, try to avoid clichés), be specific to create a unique images, but not too specific as to bog down readers with too many words (Gingerich). Give readers the most needed and unique details and respect that your audience doesn’t need to be held by the hand. Part of that balance is made by looking at the words you use themselves. You want a hearty stew of nouns, adjectives, verbs, etc., not a glass of water (Bingham). That being said be careful with your use of modifiers (adjectives and adverbs). Make sure they aren’t redundant, or “abstract a thought” (Gingerich). Descriptions shouldn’t have to halt the rhythm of your poetry or stop the narrative, but should be weaved into your writing to achieve multiple aims. Not only should they introduce a subject, but they can foreshadow coming plot points (Bingham), set scene and tone, should allow story, and reveal character (Prentiss and Wilkins). Weave action and description together to make these descriptions active characters themselves (Bingham), keeping the movement of your art moving forward will show how your subject, whether it be a chipmunk, red pine, or your backyard, can be just as dynamic a character as your human characters can be.
For Flora
In some ways, you’d think it would be easier to identify plants. They’re not going anywhere (unless we have a Day of the Triffids situation on our hands), and you can get a lot closer to them without risking harm to yourself. However, I feel a majority of people are able to tell a wolverine from a badger, a crow from a raven, a chipmunk from a squirrel. Do you think you could tell the difference between a cedar, pine, and a spruce? Recognize different species of ferns? Identity milkweed from ragweed from phragmites? In general, I’d say laypersons are more well-versed in identifying animals than plants, so how do we go about describing completely unknown flora? Well, Steve W. Chadde offers one way in A Great Lakes Wetland Flora A Complete Guide to the Wetland and Aquatic Plants of the Midwest: keys. No, not the kind that you use to get into your house or car. There are many different types of keys, but in the case of A Great Lakes we see an example of a dichotomous key, “meaning the reader must choose between one of two leads which form a ‘couplet’ at each step in the key. The lead is chosen which best describes the plant being identified and the user proceeds to the number following the lead in the key” (Chadde). In essence, it’s like those choose-your-own-adventure books you read as a kid, but instead of a story, you get a plant! Like with Peterson and birds, we begin with broad strokes, starting with keys to groups and families, then look at size and shape of plant and/or leaves and so on.
With plants in general being less familiar to a general audience, it helps to be able to recognize the four major plant types. First, all plants are either vascular or non-vascular. Non-vascular plants include members of the Phylum Bryophyta, which houses more than 10 000 plants species such as mosses, liverworts and hornworts. What defines non-vascular plants is that they lack a vascular system, which has vascular tissues that help plants transport water and nutrients, making them a fairly simplistic lot (Types of Plants: The Four Major Classifications of Plants). The rest of the world’s plants are considered vascular, and fall into the Phylum Pteridophyta, Gymnosperms, and Angiosperms. Pteridophyta has almost 12 000 species, containing true ferns and allies. They are seedless plants, so they have to reproduce using spores that are located “on the underside of their leaves known as sporophylls” (Types of Plants: The Four Major Classifications of Plants). Gymnosperms include pines, hemlocks, firs, spruces and so includes the tallest, thickest, and the oldest living plants. “Gymnosperms” translates to “naked seed,” alluding to the fact this phylum uses cones rather than seeds to reproduce. So gymnosperms then are characterized “by having wood, and green needle-like or scale-like foliage” and though have a wide range, “dominate the temperature and artic regions” (Types of Plants: The Four Major Classifications of Plants). Lastly, Angiosperms are flowering plants, and includes a vast diversity of trees, herbs, shrubs, bulbs, parasitic plants, and marine and freshwater habitat flowers (Types of Plants: The Four Major Classifications of Plants). By separating all plants into these four categories, we can break down a plant further by closely looking at the leaves, leaf arrangement, the bark and trunk, and the flowers, berries, and cones (where these apply) (Identifying Native Plants ). When looking at the leaf structure, consider looking at Wikipedia’s “Glossary of leaf morphology” to learn some of the terminology surrounding leaf shape. Brian Mertins (who runs the practically focused Nature Mentor site), suggests looking at a wide variety of plant parts when working to identify a plant: look at the branching patterns of leaves (do leaves branch out evenly with each other on opposite sides of the stem as in opposite branching or do leaves branch out alternately along the stem as in, well, alternate branching?); count the flower petals; analyze stem shape and structure; look for unique features like thorns, spikes, or bumps; keep an eye out for fruits, seeds, or nuts, question whether the plant is woody like a tree or shrub or herbaceous like dandelions, consider the scent of leaves and flowers, and of course, just like with animals, consider the habitat and landscape you find the plant in, taking into account the season as well (Mertins).
As much as I said that animals, plants, and place should be treated as having their own identity outside how they relate to humans, they certainly should be treated as characters in their own right. Think about how you’d introduce and sustain a human character and apply that not only to your animals, but also place and plants. Way, waaay back when we tried to define what nature writing was, Prentiss and Wilkins said it was just as concerned with physical place as with character and plot. We put a lot of focus on character and plot when analyzing art as well as creating our own. Nature writing is about putting them on equal level, and it’s through your experiences and use of the tools at your disposal that you weave them thoroughly together.
Works Cited
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Peterson, Roger Tory. Peterson Field Guide to Birds of North America. New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2008. Print.
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