Fri 22 Jun The other afternoon there was an enormous clamour of geese on the lawn... and after it did not abate over time the Caretaker investigated to see what was the matter. Were the crows trying to make off again with a gosling??? Were there intruders chasing the geese??? Had some rival gaggle tried to take over the grazing on the lawn??? In fact... the lawn was deserted except for two geese carrying on in a loud and obnoxious manner... very loud... and it took a few moments to figure out that this was a domestic squabble between a goose couple that was so loud and disagreeable that all the others had sensibly left the area so as to spare their senses and avoid the display of rude. The two geese were separated by 50 feet... pacing...not looking at each other... but obviously trading non-stop insults at each other. Yelling at them to be quiet did no good. It was reminiscent of a comedy routine by the Bickersons... except both seemed mad and outraged and were yelling at the same time. The Caretaker tried to explain that a human couple would never exhibit such shameful manners towards each other... but the decibel level merely rose higher and he retreated behind a closed... but unfortunately not soundproofed door.

Tue 26 Jun Questions have been asked about the many potted plants bordering the lawn. This is actually a tree garden... a result of the efforts of Grounds Supervisor Trip Reid to pot up fifty-plus bare root sycamores and silky dogwoods obtained from the Potomac Conservancy during the Spring. The Club has offered to care for and nurture these potted trees so that they will be strong when they are planted out in the Fall. It is expected that the Club will retain a few for planting on the Island. While here the trees serve as a sort of on-going laboratory project of conservation at work and an example for Islanders of all ages who might wish to be involved when planting time comes.

Mon 2 Jul There seems to be only one goose couple remaining in the area... the others have gradually left during the past week. About ten days ago... when the water was very high... we were able to closely observe the goose technique for transiting from Sycamore to Ruppert's Island by using the river currents. A large gaggle swam towards the tip of Sycamore hugging the Virginia side of the Island and then... upon reaching the little island that used to be connected to Sycamore... launched themselves into the main river current and while being swept downriver worked hard to get to the lee of the larger island in the middle between Ruppert's and Sycamore. After a brief rest, they repeated the same technique to cross the main current to get into the lee of Ruppert's where it was easier to work up to the bottom of that island to spend the night. We have decided they do not like the bottom of Sycamore, as there are too often night time fishermen close on the Maryland side nearby.

Watching them struggle so hard with the high water current one wondered why they did not simply take to the air for the short hop to Ruppert's. As Mother Nature practices total energy efficiency... the only answer can be that the geese use less energy struggling to swim than to fly a short distance.

Tue 3 Jul Have you ever looked closely at the bark of a sycamore tree to notice how different it is? It is smooth and not gnarled or ribbed like typical tree bark... but greenish-brown that peels from the trees in rectangular strips that resemble parchment to reveal a pale inner layer beneath. Here on the Island we have entered the season of falling sycamore bark... and visitors to the Island will now see the grounds littered with it.

Mon 9 Jul It has been a busy holiday week... and some of the multitude visiting were nieces and nephews of staff... hence the tents seen on the Island. The Caretaker realized he had guests and that some were female when he walked into the bathroom and noticed... how could one not... that there was no available horizontal space anywhere that was not covered with foo-foo bottles containing lotions and potions and tinctures and smellies and other unidentifiable but surely noxious liquids such that merely touching the bottle would suck the manhood out of any fellow. Ominously, the hanging towels were folded and hung with a military precision that defied any male to touch them... and the normal, manly cleansing soap on the sink was replaced with something stinky with perfume called Kiss My Face. In the shower... eyes shut against the soapy water... reaching sightless for a razor that was not in its accustomed place... the hand instead knocked down three of the strange bottles that seemed perched precariously everywhere. The Caretaker fled to the men's locker room bathroom to sulk.

Sat 14 Jul It is impossible to walk silently in the woods at night with all this darn sycamore bark lying about and crackling with every other step. If one was not aware of this ongoing fall of flaking and peeling bark falling from great heights, one might be alarmed by all the creepy sounds at night. Under the trees at night there is a constant rain of "stuff" falling on the ground or anyone sitting out. In the dark it is impossible to tell if it is tree sweat, or bug urine, or small and solid larval life forms transiting from tree life to ground life. And of course, the larger sound of the falling bark makes larger the sensation of any falling and human-impacting mote. Staff is forced to endure these nighttime conditions in order to continue to gather more data on the on-going firefly project.

Thu 19 Jul Sherry Pettie came aboard with a question regarding the supposed methane bubbles continuously seen in the shallows around the Island. It seemed to her that she had noticed that there were more bubbles just before rain and thunderstorms... and since the Caretaker had written in a previous Log entry about his "serious study" of methane bubbles... she wondered if he could confirm that these instances of more bubbles correlated with the decreased barometric pressure associated with such weather conditions. Well... a long silence ensued as the Caretaker tried to think about the phrase "serious study"... but in fact could only think about the number of times and entries about which the Caretaker's Wife had said "You can't write that stuff in the Log... no one will understand your sense of humour or that you're kidding." Fortunately, Sherry's scientist son Seth broke the silence by pointing out that a bottle of Sprite opened when the air pressure was high probably had less fizz than a bottle opened when the barometric pressure was low. You can imagine how easy it was for the Caretaker to be agreeable.

Fri 20 Jul From the Captain's float one can look downriver and see where the two massive Sycamore trees have fallen into the river perpendicular to the Island. The closest fell in 1998 and the one further downriver fell almost exactly a year earlier. Many members have lamented the deterioration of the graceful arch formed by the closest fallen sycamore and the stylised artiness it gave to the downriver view. Few remember that the fallen tree beyond provided the same touch the first year it fell... and fewer still remember that there was a third fallen sycamore about the same distance further downriver... but time has had its way and that part of this first tree to fall that lay in the river has now gone to earth... or river. Taken together, these three trees display nature's pattern so graphically... as one after the other they follow each other exactly in their path to dissolution. One can look at the tree beyond the closest and see what the closest will look like next year. Visitors have come to photograph the nearest tree at the height of its style... but some would say the greatest art can best be appreciated as a pattern wrought by time.

Anyway... there is a green heron that frequently likes to hang out at this nearest fallen sycamore that is not shy and seems not to mind people hanging out at the Captain's float. Look for it when you come down... it is often there but not seen... and if you are lucky you will get a very close performance of it grooming, fishing, and eating.

Sat 21 Jul Caretaker predecessor Peter Jones conveyed a theory about Island use that has seemed confirmed in the almost five years we have been here. In this theory, summer seasonal use of the Island is determined by the weather patterns of late Spring. If the weather pattern is good and favors frequent use of the Island... a habit of visiting the Island is established that will continue all year regardless of how oppressive and icky the summer weather may be. If the early weather is wet and dreary... other activities are scheduled for children and family and the Island no longer appears at the top of the Summer "fun things to do list"... and this behavioral conditioning persists and continues even in the face of a cool and brilliant and sparkling high Summer weather pattern... like the one we are in now.

The Caretaker continues to be perplexed to go down to the ferry when the Island opens at 0900 hrs and see that no line of waiting Members has formed. So Members... snap out of it... break the shackles of your conditioning... get down here... where better can you enjoy and appreciate the best Washington summer weather in living memory?

Mon 23 Jul Any reader of this Log will understand that there are those Members for whom fishing down here is serious business. Perhaps one should rather say serious fun... but in any event their degree of seriousness can evoke images of a professional swat team about to enter the fray. Thus it is that when such experts come up empty handed, as they all have these last few weeks, there is "serious" wailing and gnashing and ranting and general unhappiness with the state of the river and the mystery of the missing fish. However, yesterday, young Ben Friedmann caught a foot-long fish off of the Captain's float using a hook he had baited by merely dipping it into Crisco. And then, we just got this e-mail query about all this "fish poppycock" from Eric Simpson: We cooked out there Sunday. We threw a line out 20 yards while we cooked and chatted. Hooked 2 catfish of a little over a foot long with cheese squares with the pole stuck in a chair. Also saw innumerable fish jumps. What fish are missing?

Excerpted from the Caretaker's Log at sycamoreisland.org

-- Doc Taliaferro, Sycamore Island Caretaker