University at Buffalo - The State University of New York

• Print

• Comments

• Multimedia

  

  Slideshow: UB’s top spots to commune with nature. | View slideshow

By CHARLES ANZALONE

Published: July 15, 2009

This story begins outside my window. Every day—and I mean regardless of weather, temperature, time, day or date, weekdays or weekends, whatever—an ongoing nature tableau unfolds outside that third-floor Crofts Hall window where I work. There’s a small creek—Bizer Creek—that runs through UB’s sprawling North Campus from Maple Road to Ellicott Creek. And the wildlife parade gathering around that creek in the past few weeks alone would make quite a little digital video.

The resident groundhogs are always there, burrowing up from their underground tunnels, breaking in work-in-progress paths or sitting straight up on their back legs like puppies in the sun. The birds are another constant, always there, always sharing airspace: the regal red-tailed hawks, the spindle-legged herons, goldfinches, cardinals, red-winged blackbirds. Vivid orange-colored Baltimore orioles make occasional appearances. Then there are what we in 330 Crofts believe are swallows, an especially acrobatic edition with bright fuselage that blend slow, graceful, nimble arcs with a flying instinct that without question is as much pleasure as predatory.

And don’t forget the coyote, which loped around the suddenly quiet groundhog holes in late spring. Or the deer that appear like shadows outside this building an hour or so after most of the cars have pulled out for the day. And we all got up to watch the fox pass through the creek bed this spring, which reminded one co-worker of an earlier year when she witnessed a mother fox nursing her young while those behind the big window tried to focus on official news releases.

Here’s the point: The nature parade outside my window is visible to anyone who knows where to look. And there are many more nature spots besides this. Remember, UB and SUNY have taken their share of criticism for placing this vibrant campus in the middle of large fields, rather than downtown or in more populated areas.

But civic planning and zoning aside, there’s another way to look at UB’s present location. Those high-rise buildings, the people who work here and the ample grasslands that remain have gradually achieved some kind of harmony. The wildlife and scenery have become part of the landscape. And the same could be said for a few choice parts of the South Campus.

“It seems to me there is something unfolding around us that wasn’t necessarily a part of the campus plan,” says Christopher Hollister, information literacy librarian and an avid avian enthusiast. “It’s sort of nature doing what it always does, adapting to changes and in some instances thriving.”

People in the university community are aware of Hollister’s keen interest and knowledge about the migratory patterns of local birds and general appreciation of nature. Even people who don’t necessarily pay attention to these things often tell him something they saw somewhere on campus, he says. One co-worker told him last spring she spotted a mother deer nursing her fawn in the small yard between the Newman Chapel and the woods on the far east side of the North Campus.

“I regularly walk out to the very end of St. Rita’s Lane beyond the stretch where it splits the eastern and western halves of Lake LaSalle,” Hollister says. “Beyond the roadblock, there is a modest wood that rolls out to Ellicott Creek, and there is a footpath that runs northwest along the creek, away from the bike path and into the woods. It’s pretty and peaceful.”

He says he often sees vibrant birds that come from as far away as Latin and South America.

“Some of them are nesting on campus,” he says. “I’ve seen Baltimore orioles nesting on the eastern part of the campus. The young will start the fledging process any day now. The yellow warblers and the eastern phoebe are nesting in the same spot right now.”

So if green is the goal, then UB is on the cutting edge of American higher education. And the balance among people, buildings and animals grows.

As proof, the UB Reporter nominates some Best Nature Spots (or Places to Find a Natural High). And you don’t need to have an office with a clean plate-glass window to enjoy them.

• The bridge on Service Center Road at the Audubon Parkway. This is the up-close-and-personal version of that impressive view outside the Crofts Hall window. It’s all there, just at ground level. Don’t be put off by the institutional-sounding location. The bridge is a few steps away from what we’re talking about. Instant nature walk. Footing can be tricky, but it’s like entering the forest primeval back there. Or get into it from the Center for Tomorrow parking lot. It’s all the same area. You’ll be surrounded by a burgeoning eco-system. Just be respectful of its residents.

Or take a walk behind Crofts Hall. You’re almost guaranteed to see the groundhogs (or the ‘hogs, as some in Crofts call them). If you bring a picnic lunch to one of the tables and settle in, they often stick their heads over the weeds to check you out.

• The landing at the South Lake boathouse. Besides having a more literary name, this nature spot can be cross-linked under Most Romantic Spots——at least in theory. Its charm comes from its creators being smart enough to honor its natural beauty without trying to upstage it. The South Lake boathouse (actually the complex’s community building) sits in a relatively untraveled place on the North Campus. The boathouse itself is a handsome structure, with UB rowing sculls mounted in the cathedral ceiling. But outside, on the stone patio, sit two veritable Adirondack chairs, overlooking Lake LaSalle and the signature columns at Baird Point. They’re perfect for meditating, working out relationship glitches or just watching the sunset.

“When dusk comes,” says one big fan of the Adirondack chairs and patio, “it’s very romantic.”

The boathouse is reserved for university types. The chairs are open 24/7. No reservations required.

• The I-990 ramp marshlands. On the right side of the ramp from the I-990 onto the North Campus, near Sweet Home Road, is a large marsh, or pond depending on the season. Imagine yourself a creature that thrives in moist, oozy, semi-isolated surroundings. Now fill that whole ecosystem up with deep green foliage. If this sounds good, where else would you rather be right now than the I-990 ramp marsh?

No one really knows what’s inside that green membrane. But at any given time, there is at least one muskrat dam in operation. The dams aren’t visible from the road, and they’re seasonal, for sure. But anyone walking on the adjacent berms on either side of the marsh has a good chance of spotting one.

Who knows what else is in there? The large snapping turtles spotted in other marshy locations on the North Campus are a good bet. Co-workers say they have seen wild turkeys flying at low cruising altitude. My guide and I were there on a stormy day, and there were five red-winged blackbirds flying around in defiance of the rain. And for those who have never seen the color scheme of a red-winged blackbird, they’re as striking as a Fifties cruise night car.

• The South Campus peregrine falcon love nest. Like any love nest, the inhabitants of UB’s resident tryst spot are best observed at a distance. But there are several good spots to choose from, as long as you have binoculars. The falcon love nest is also the victim of a name not worthy of its surroundings. The custom-made box and landing area built by staff from UB Facilities and the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation are in the MacKay Heating Plant along Winspear Avenue, but the location is more attractive than the institutional name would suggest. Their home is 137 feet above the ground in a stately, classical-looking structure that looks nothing like a heating plant.

And now is an excellent time to get a distant look, says Ron C. Van Splunder, manager of architectural support for UB Facilities and Planning and Design. The falcon couple, known among local birdwatchers as “Smokey” and “Misty,” are parents. Van Splunder says the best place to view the chicks is from a distance near the corner of Bailey and Winspear, or in the playing fields to the east of Clark Hall, all easy accessible despite some summer construction going on below the fledgling family.

“The chicks are testing their wings now, doing what in the wild would be called ‘branching,’ but instead they are using the ledge,” says Van Splunder. “They will do this for a couple of weeks. It will not be long before they learn to hunt on their own.

“I think you can expect them to be able to leave the vicinity of the nest around July 25 to 30. In that time they will begin using nearby buildings.

“The parents will be doing a concerted effort to ‘pull’ the chicks away from the nest by dropping food at nearby buildings, and not feeding the chicks directly in the nest box,” says Van Splunder. “They will then fly around the nest box with prey in their talons hoping hungry chicks will overcome their uncertainty, and take to the air. The parents will then drop the prey in mid air and the chicks will grab it, thus learning how to catch prey in mid-air, which is the way of peregrines.

“We hope next year to have the same pair come back and fledge more chicks.”

• The hidden glories of the Amherst Bike Path. There is no better place to get a big dose of nature on or near the university proper than the series of paths and routes across Millersport Highway near what was known once as the Amherst Bike Path and is now called the Ellicott Creek Trailway. The path has history, and the fact that some of it has been tragic does not mean its natural beauty and character should be passed by. That’s especially true when you get into the less obvious parts.

The best way to enter that domain is to take Webster Road behind Alumni Arena heading toward the Ellicott Complex. The UB Child Care Center and South Lake Village community center will be on your left. Continue until you pass the Oozfest mud pit, also on your left. An entrance to the bike path/trail will be visible on your right about 300 yards from the mud pit, right before the creek. Take the path past the ducks and herons frolicking in what is a textbook babbling brook, through the underpass of Millersport Highway (cross Millersport itself at a considerable risk) and bear left at the “take a brighter path” sign.

You’ll now go through what one intrepid trailway explorer described as “lots of beautiful nothing.” Just grass and trees and space, which in the winter must look a lot like Narnia. “I love it,’ the “lots of nothing” explorer said.

Keep going, past the big snapping turtle in the mud near the trail (the third consecutive time I saw a turtle while visiting the path), past the goldfinches and red-winged blackbirds buzzing past those on the walkway, past the surprisingly secluded flag memorial honoring the victims of 9/11. Keep walking/running/pedaling farther down the road. Soon there will be numerous small memorials and markers, most near a tree. Each one has a heartfelt message dedicated to a lost loved one. There are poems, prayers, angel statues, homemade flags, primitive artwork and the kind of artifacts that carry a sense of personal commitment—from the simple and direct (this to the memory of Annette Fusco: “You will remain in our hearts forever. We love you dearly.”), to melancholy rhymes (“No farewell words were spoke, No time to say goodbye. You were gone before we knew it. And only God knows why” in memory of Srinath Chalakamarri), to tributes (this to Marge Brauer: “Her strength, like a tree, grew with each challenge. Her spirit, like the wind, touched all our lives.”).

These impromptu monuments go on and on, and nearby are benches overlooking what is by now a placid Ellicott Creek. And if you continue down the pathway, you’ll eventually come to a fork in the path. To the right leads back to the university. Walking to the left brings you to a ringside seat to Hole No. 14 of the Amherst Audubon Golf Course. If the goal of the Ellicott Creek Pathway is to help visitors slow down and notice the hidden wonders of the everyday world, it’s mission accomplished.

Early morning is often best. And imagine what this will look like in winter.

• Baird Point: A usual suspect, but still hard to beat. Everyone on campus knows about the imposing columns on the edge of Lake LaSalle known as Baird Point. They’re often used as backdrops for photographs or posters. They’re even featured on the official UB paperweight on sale in the bookstore. The image is used so often for a simple reason: because they are beautiful.

Got that? But here’s something to remember: This is not some “Music Man,” gazebo-type, cute-Americana-like setting. It’s rugged. You have to push yourself up to get to the highest spot. There are no sissy stairs. And once you get on top, after several self-hoists, there’s a substantial drop from the ledge to the water below. So there’s a sense of slight risk here, like if you were Butch Cassidy and the Kid, and the guys with the white hats who had been paid big bucks to get you to stop robbing banks had cornered you, you would have to leap in the water to save yourself.

So think of that the next time you’re standing below the majestic Baird Point pillars with the Lake LaSalle crosswinds blowing through your hair, and taking the whole scene for granted.

• The woodchucks of Capen Hall. There is a large, wide hedge running from the Audubon side of Capen Hall to Hamilton Loop, reports Judy Adams-Volpe, director of communications for the UB Libraries. And something similar to what is happening on the third floor of Crofts is going on outside her office window, as well.

“That hedge has become quite the home, a kind of UB Green condo, for rabbits and woodchucks,” she says, catching the spirit of this nature tour exactly. “As I distractedly work at my computer, I can watch the shenanigans of our furry residents, whole families of them. There are presently four woodchuck siblings that are too tame for their own good.

“Since I'm a librarian,” Adams-Volpe says, “I've named them for spunky characters in classic children's books about the Bobbsey Twins, who were actually two sets of sibling twins, their names being Bert and Nan, and Flossie and Freddie.”

Adams-Volpe has generously agreed, depending on demand, to answer inquiries and point visitors in the best direction. Call her when she is not too busy to talk at 645-1327. You can talk literature, animals or contribute to her penchant for mixing both.