When I recently wrote about an artist’s fascinating willow weavings at Angelica Creek Park in Reading, Berks Nature Land Specialist Sarah Chudnovsky pointed out a popular misconception about restoration work, especially in areas like Berks County. In communities descended from processes of settler colonialism like ours, people think that if we just leave nature totally alone, it will just come back. The conditions have changed: We have invasive species, climate change, deer browse. Plus, Sarah pointed out, “We know untouched nature isn’t true for our landscape historically, as the area was, and in some areas is, still actively managed by indigenous peoples.” Consider that area’s history of human intervention: It was once a lake, created by a dam built in 1885 by the Angelica Water Co. It became a reservoir and then a natural source of ice.

Birdwatchers continue to follow Reading's peregrine falcons looking for signs of new life. The nest at the Callowhill Building has been watched for years by the Pennsylvania Game Commission and bird lovers alike. Art McMorris, the game commission's falcon coordinator, said that it appears the nest has failed. "Both adults are still present together in downtown Reading, but they do not appear to be nesting," McMorris said in an email. "This is puzzling, because the new(est) female arrived in plenty of time to recycle hormonally and begin nesting (she arrived April 2), and the pair have been seen copulating."

Delight. Sheer delight. She asked me not to reveal her name or exact location for fear she'd be inundated with birdwatchers. But I can tell you that when we talked she exuded delight with watching a western rufous hummingbird flit from feeder to feeder in her backyard. It's the second year in a row this Exeter Township resident had hosted this type of hummingbird. Last year it was a female, nicknamed Lizzie, which was observed Oct. 3 and stayed until Christmas Eve. This year it is a male. On Veterans Day, Nov. 11, a male hatch year rufous hummingbird appeared at the same location. It was banded by Sandy Lockerman of Harrisburg. When you understand why it's so exciting, you can also begin to appreciate the ways climate change may be disrupting our world.

A few weeks ago I wrote that a West Vincent Township, Chester County, sycamore was the biggest in Pennsylvania. I found fascinating the story of the Fraley family and the strong women who lived beside that "planatus occidentalis." Little did I know that I had climbed out on a limb in a forest of big tree watchers. "No, no, no," Cherie Makowski wrote. "The biggest tree in PA is in Mercersburg in Franklin County. It is also a sycamore tree; it beats the one in Kimberton 529 points to 517."

Taking a minute to give a few of these women shoutouts because they paved the way for a career I never planned to have. My mentors in the news business never seemed to fit my image of a mentor, so it wasn't until much later that I realized how they helped me. Let me take a minute to give a few of these women shoutouts because they paved the way for a career I never planned to have. First, there was Jan Trembley, my first editor at the Daily Local News, whose patience and encouragement led me, a goofy film major, to be able to freelance for The Philadelphia Inquirer. There was Karen Funfgeld, the managing editor of The Evening Phoenix, where I had my first full-time reporting job, who went shopping with me as I tried to shed my grungy college kid look for something more professional. There was Karen Miller, who was a Reading Eagle assistant news editor at the time I heard her declare to a reporter, “I’m not your mother,” and I knew that I didn’t have to pick up that role to succeed in the workplace. There was Donna Reed, a Reading Eagle editor who gave me maternity clothes when I was pregnant with my first child and made me feel that it was OK to be a mother in a male-dominated industry. There was Wendy Zang, the Voices editor who gave me great opportunities and said something that became the best advice for my career. One day, she asked me to go with her to the back office that reporters called the wood shed because that’s where we’d get chewed out. I followed her, trying to figure out how I’d screwed up. She looked at me, knowing that’s exactly what I was thinking. As we walked to that room where she’d announce her departure, opening a door for my eventual advancement and realization of what I do best, she whispered, “It’s not about you.” Author Lisa Scheid | Reporter Lisa Scheid has been a reporter and editor for the Reading Eagle for more than two decades. She's written for teens and about business, municipal government, schools and agriculture. Her agriculture reporting earned state press award award for consumer beat reporting and local recognition as Agriculture Journalist of the Year. She now reports on the environment and outdoors and writes a weekly newsletter.