Echoes in the Wind
A walk through the woods brought me face to face with an owl, the call of a flicker, the sweet scent of pawpaws, and the rhythm of hollow logs. Sometimes the forest carries you, and all you can do is listen.
Abundance Signals: Walnuts, Mosquitoes, and the Forest’s Long Game
On my September 23 walk, the forest announced its changes loud and clear — walnuts thudding down in a mast year, mosquitoes in last-call mode, pawpaw perfume gone, and late-blooming smartweed still holding on. These abundance signals remind me that the woods don’t whisper their shifts; they proclaim them.
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Abundance Signals
The forest sent me plenty of signals today. Walking the trail on September 23, I couldn’t miss them.
Walnuts
Scattered like marbles across the ground, this year is clearly a mast year. The trees drop more nuts than squirrels, deer, or turkeys can possibly eat, ensuring survival by sheer abundance. Each thud I hear is both a hazard for my head and a reminder of nature’s strategy.
A mast year is basically a survival hack:
- Squirrels and deer can’t keep up, so plenty of seeds make it into the ground.
- Whole groves seem to “agree” to mast together. Scientists think it’s part weather, part chemical signaling, and part evolutionary math — the odds of regeneration rise when the forest floods the system at once.
- The trade-off is steep: a mast year takes so much energy that the trees often follow with a lighter crop while they recover.
It’s as if the forest planned this abundance, a long-game strategy for renewal.
Leaves
Dry and curled, they already layer the trail. What was green only weeks ago is giving way to early shades of brown and gold. The canopy is thinning, and the forest floor feels closer to the sky.
Mosquitoes
Relentless, buzzing the instant I stop moving. They’re not just a nuisance — they’re in last-call mode. Females are desperate to lay one final round of eggs before frost. Cooler nights and warm days extend their activity, making them bold in broad daylight. Add in damp soil and leaf litter that trap water, and the forest gives them the perfect breeding ground. No wonder they swarm at any pause.
Pawpaws
Their scent is gone. Just a week ago the air was heavy with sweet perfume. Read more here. Now the fruit has been eaten, the season closed.
Smartweed
Small but striking, with pink spikes at trail’s edge. It’s one of the late bloomers, offering seeds for birds as other sources disappear.
All of these are abundance signals — walnuts falling in overwhelming numbers, leaves carpeting the ground, mosquitoes swarming, pawpaws fading out, and smartweed holding on. Each tells the story of the forest shifting from late summer into autumn.
The more I walk and pay attention, the more I realize the woods don’t whisper change — they announce it.
“Know what’s enough. Build what matters.”
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