"Bogging"

Mother got us reservations on a tour of the Buckeye Lake cranberry bog for yesterday evening. We weren't sure we'd make it out of town in time for the 6:30 event, especially with "Dubya" tying up traffic in the north end on his important visit to raise money for the Republicans. We headed south and east to avoid it, and only hit a few snags of typical rush hour traffic.

The weather was perfect for being on the lake. Not too much wind, warm and not too humid. We were warned that the bog island itself would be 10-20 degrees warmer, but it was shady and pretty comfortable: We went 7-8 at a time on party boats (ok, Drew, PONTOON boats) for the short trip at low speed from the north shore boatdock, not far from the town entrance on 79.

The local tour guides from the Historical Society ran us through the ice age and the formation of the bog, and its recent history. We were not previously aware that it was the only bog island in the world (the rest are "attached",) or of the speed at which it's disintegrating. Drew could remember being there for a news story at the bureau, maybe 17 years ago, and the island was 20 acres. It's now down to six. The local guides said they won't be surprised if it's gone in 20 more years.

There were plenty of flora and fauna on and around the island. A few herons hugged the shore, being a bit skittish about the boat traffic. The guide thought they were generally shy, and we told her about our "city herons" who fish in the neighbor's backyard pond every spring. Not shy enough to skip a snack of goldfish.

The dock led onto a wooden path through the island. The tour guide warned us immediately that it was overrrun with poison sumac, and showed us right away how to identify it. For my part, I didn't touch anything! The first clearing brought a beautiful surprise of tiny purple orchids in bloom. They are called grass-pink but apparently can range from pink to purple. They grow in acid bogs and use deceit pollination - sounds bad, but looks nice.

There were small cranberry plants, no longer harvested. The cranberries aren't the Thanksgiving/Ocean Spray type, but a small, white, bitter variety.

A local botanist in the 1920's brought in the pitcher plants, realizing they'd grow on the bog. Talk about a deceitful plant - it lures insects into its "pitcher" with sweet fluids. An unsuspecting ant finds that once in, he can't crawl out due to spines that angle down and in, allowing access but blocking exit. The next rainfall fills the "pitcher" and the digestive juices blend with the rain water to drown and consume the bug. What the bog doesn't provide, the plant gets on its own.

We saw where the trees on the island were contributing to the break-up of the bog. Once they reach a certain height, the peat can't support the weight and they fall over, their roots pulling up parts of the bog. Our guide also told us the apparently famous tale of the winter of freezing and thawing that broke off a large portion and deposited it smack in front of someone's expensive lakeshore view property. They tried to have it moved, but that didn't work. In another few years, they'll have their view back via Mother Nature.

At one place along the path, the guide invited us to plunge our arms elbow deep into a hole filled with water to feel the peat. For those unwilling (me,) she pulled out a handful and demonstrated the absorbtion quality by wringing, and wringing, and wringing water out. Another guide on the boat trip back told us that when they have bored public school students out there in May, that's the point along the tour that she tells them about the body buried there. She waits until getting back to the dock to tell them she was joking, and it makes for a much more interested group.

You don't have to handle the peat to get the feel of the floating island of it, though. One point along the path is well used by people stepping off the boards onto the squishy, bouncy surface. It was sort of like walking on a sponge, with lake water oozing out with each step.

All in all, it was a pleasant evening to be on the lake, and interesting to see a phenomenon that has been around for 11,000 years but will be gone in our lifetime.