In the list of senses: sight, sound, smell, taste and touch, we overlook some more than others (and even our language, "overlook," expresses this bias). We encourage the use of all senses when visiting the preserves, except for taste—you'd be surprised how many plants contain alkaloids or other toxic defenses against predation! And of course also use caution with touch: we do have stinging nettle and poison ivy. But you will find your experience richer if you are open to more ways of experiencing nature.
We rarely observe skunks on the preserve, though I saw one the other day—but did not detect an odor. More often I smell the pungent musk of fox here. No doubt there are many messages conveyed in scent that I cannot detect. Our dog enjoys reading the wind, like the one in the Jane Siberry song.
In the summer a strong scent is released when you walk through (or mow a foot path next to) mountain mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum).
My favorite smells on the preserve are sassafras, spicebush and Eastern red cedar. When some sassafras (Sassafras albidinum) gets run through the chipper (as it would when a limb comes down) the air is filled with its fragrance. Likewise, when I prune some spicebush (Lindera benzoin) where it has grown into a trail I enjoy its sharp aroma. Years ago I had some spicebush tea, where small twigs were put in the percolator of a coffee maker. It is these volatile oils in the leaves and stems that make spicebush resistant to deer browse, so much so that a woodland dominated by an understory of spicebush is probably an indicator of undesirably high deer density. Interestingly, several sites on the web suggest that spicebush also makes a good seasoning for deer meat.
(Today I will also be hanging fresh bars of Irish Spring soap from our garden fence—a folk remedy to keep deer out. While I think that a deer that is hungry enough will ignore the strong odor, those that have plenty of alternatives, as they do at the preserve, will choose to go elsewhere. The end of winter is a hard time for food resources and deer are looking everywhere. While there isn't anything in the garden yet for them to eat I don't want them to get used to stopping here.)
An Eastern red cedar (Juniperus virginiana) came down recently on the Horse-Shoe Trail where it passes the edge of the preserve. Even though the tree was dead (likely shaded out by the maturing forest that has grown up around it) the chainsaw released a scent that took me back to the airtight cedar closet ("never play in there!") in my grandparents' basement. The saw also revealed that lovely pink stained wood that, alas, fades with exposure.
A while back I wrote about the human health benefits of the chemical compounds released in forests, a topic introduced to me in Joan Maloof's book "Teaching the Trees of the Forest."
More recently an article crossed my desk about research that provides clinical evidence of these benefits. Here's the citation from the Journal of Physiological Anthropology in 2007: Park, Bum-Jin, et al. "Physiological Effects of Shinrin-yoku (Taking in the Atmosphere of the Forest)—Using Salivary Cortisol and Cerebral Activity as Indicators—" Volume 26, pages 123-128. I think it's fascinating that Japanese has a word for "taking in the atmosphere of the forest"! So come on out to Crow's Nest and experience your own shinrin-yoku.
