The River

July 19 and 30, 2009

There are always flowers for those who want to see them. ~Henri Matisse.

Twice more I have been out on the Hudson River, along a section that Jackie has adopted as a tender steward. She had spoken before of the Flowering of the Golden Hedge-Hyssop as an annual event she looked forward to. It blooms in July, and here we were.

This part of the river, just upstream from a dam, has several quiet coves leading out to rocky points. We paddled from cove to cove, taking our time, a sort of water-sauntering if you will.

In one cove we found the lesser purple-fringed orchis, getting ready to bloom. It’s a fragile-looking plant, and was all alone. I was hoping none of the weekend-boaters out there would step on it. This photo is from July 30:

In another cove, after much ado about how to actually GET there (you know what I mean Jackie), she took me to a spot where the Sweet Flag grows. Jackie wisely invoked the name of Thoreau, in order to get me into that cove. Well then I just HAD to see it, having never seen it before. If you were a lazy botanist, like me, it would be easy to mistake it for just another clump of cattails.

[from Thoreau's Wild Fruits:]
I often turn aside my boat to pluck it, passing through a dense bed of flags recently risen above the surface. The inmost tender leaf near the base of the plant is quite palatable, as children know. They love it as much as the musquash does. Early in June I see them going a-flagging even a mile or two and returning with large bundles for the sake of this blade, which they extract at their leisure. After the middle of June, the critchicrotch, going to seed, becomes unfit to eat.

Well, unfit or no, Jackie and I were cautiously nibbling on the little green corncobs. It had a hemlockian flavor. Does anyone know where the term critchicrotch comes from?
The quote above goes to show how just much the summer activities of today’s children have changed. And adults, for that matter!

A third cove, the most secluded, was full of the hedge-hyssop, like gold-leafwork along the edges and crevices of rocky ledges. Some of it was growing underwater. The river’s raised level has affected it, according to Jackie. There was much less of it this summer.

The Marsh St. Johnswort has the most curious appearance. In the parts that are underwater, the leaves appear dipped in liquid mercury – something to do with water-repellent qualities. There were whole beds of this, peeking its pinkish leaves out of the water.
It looked like so much silver coin, just out of reach under the surface.

The high point of this day was pointing out what I thought was a sunflower of some sort.
Jackie almost jumped out of her boat to get ashore –
“It’s a Great St. Johnswort!” she exclaimed with glee. She had not seen one for about a dozen years.
It was pretty tall - no need to bend down to take this portrait!


A second excursion took place toward the end of the month.
NatureGirl came down for a visit! She and Jackie met through blogging. NatureGirl is the nom de blog of Ellen, naturalist at Newcomb Visitor Center, way up in the heart of the Adirondacks. (Her excellent blog is www.adknaturalist.blogspot.com)

So, three virtual acquaintances got together in material form, for some pleasant hours on the river. It was interesting to compare plants and blooming-times with each other, since we each live in slightly different zones, from south to north.

As we floated around the undulating shoreline, there was the golden hedge hyssop, and pipewort, and pickerelweed, and big-shelled snails. There are tupelo trees here too, quite unusual for this climate.
Blueberries and dewberries were enough to attract a shore-party.

A hundred years ago – there would have been a very different scene along this shoreline. Booms and cables across the river. Hobnailed work crews, sorting logs in swift water. Steam-engines chugging, and draft-horses straining against heavy loads.

I too, strained against a heavy load - when it came time to haul-out, and get the boat back up the winding trail through the woods to my car.
How DID I do it?

I cheated a little!

Speaking of Birds ...

July 20 - 26, 2009

With a new camera comes new possibilities. This one, though compact and surprisingly light, has a powerful zoom. Until now, my subjects have been mostly flowers – for one thing, they don’t run or fly away! There are sometimes pleasant surprises when I get home and actually see the photos – details not apparent on the camera’s LED screen.
Now, I’m trying to snap shots of more mobile creatures – such as birds.
So far, I am still shooting from the hip, and not using a tripod.

Some of these photos aren’t as sharp as they could be, because of that habit.

(Now's the time to try out that nifty little GorillaPod that Rob sent me ages ago- !)

It’s neat to be able to see such creatures without scaring them off. Even with this advantage, most of them are well aware of my presence. One, as you will see, is even scolding me!

Here are glimpses into a whole new world for me:

A cedar waxwing gulping down honeysuckle berries along the edge of Moreau Lake. Lindsey, my go-to person for bird questions (themigrationstation.blogspot.com) tells me that when they eat a lot of these berries, the yellow-edged tail turns orange!

(Click on any of these photos to see them larger)

Up in the meadows, little sparrows are dining on seeds of the wild parnsip. Not sure, but it might be a savannah sparrow.

Along a section of the Warren County Bike Trail which passes through great birding areas - such as the Glen Lake section - I saw this pugnacious little kingbird, high overhead on the powerline wires. I braced myself against one of the poles, which is why the focus is so sharp.

Further along on the same trail - (no poles to lean on this time, and it was after sunset ) :
an indignant indigo bunting -

It's always wise to pay attention to crows, especially a group of them.

Up to no good, most likely, mobbing an owl, or ...

... a hawk.

While paddling in Dunham's Bay this month, the great blue herons have become more visible, or perhaps less skitterish. It's tricky shooting due to the fact that the kayak is moving, unless I find a good parking-spot among the lily pads. The herons are busy taking advantange of the good fishing here.

But if you get too close ... buh-bye!

Birds of a Feather

Friday, July 17, 2009
Arriving at Moreau, I find out that only one other person signed up for the Birding Hike this morning. It was birding buddy Lindsey! The hike leader is Dave, the Environmental Educator at Moreau Lake State Park. He intends to take us up the Blue Trail toward the Moreau Overlook. (yikes, I was thinking we'd be strolling around the flat Back Bay trail or something.) But I'd follow him anywhere, despite being considerably older than my 20-something companions, so off we go. Hope I can keep up.

We haven’t gone 500 feet upward along the trail - when we hear the loon calling!
Every summer, Moreau Lake seems to get a bachelor loon visiting. He comes and goes. He'd been hanging out by the beach lately, but today is the first time any of us have heard him.
Ah -ooooh -ah.
It is odd to hear it on a sunny morning. The call has that moonlight flavor. But it's a thrill nonetheless.

Lindsey is busy scribbling – she puts him in her book!
She already has quite a list going for today, of birds she has already seen while waiting for us in the parking lot.
I’m no good at field notes. Lindsey and plant-pal Jackie are both diligently keeping lists, of birds and plants. My ever-growing library of photos will have to serve as my list. Un-scientifically, many are listed under “unknown yellow flower” or “wierd bug.” (Or the ever-popular birding term “L.G. B.”)

It has been raining a lot lately. The Indian pipes are rising up out of the ground everywhere, in big clusters. If you look closely, you can see a wood frog along the brook

a tiny toad who would fit on your thumbnail

or the equally tiny, heard-but-not-seen spring peeper, with the distinctive X on his back.

And the fungi are in their musty lusty glory.

As a result, this hike quickly mutates into a mushroom hike, with Dave identifying what we see along the trail - noting (with thinly-disguised gusto) the edible ones. (I'm happy just to LOOK at mushrooms.)

Up, up, past the Groaning Rocks, up to where a small steep brook crosses the trail.
Past shady green dells - where in winter, the light streams down freely.

We walk around wind-felled trees,

whose roots provide new shelter for all sorts of wildlife.

Now we a shuffling off on an abandoned trail to an old overlook – and getting slightly lost.

We take a seat on the ample trunk of a old downed tree, and gaze into a dark un-named hollow. The song of the winter wren trickles down between hemlock branches, somewhere on the next ridge.

Sitting for a moment, with these friends, in this place, is a moment of perfect peace.

Home Again Home Again

[A few more entries to catch us up to the present time - the past month is being creatly compressed !]July 14 2009

After a week at Walden, despite all those lovely adventures, I was looking forward to returning to Moreau Park, and just wandering around enjoying my home turf. It would be a pleasant contrast to the crowds at Walden Pond. All I really had time for was a short walk - over to the Little Beach to check on the pearly everlasting, which should be blooming now.

But what’s this? As I passed through the picnic area, there were lots of folks standing around over near the playground. There was a little tent set up, with kids sitting in the doorway, and a Subaru loaded with kayaks parked nearby, and people with large cameras and reflectors --eh? Peter (Park Manager) and Dave (Environmental Educator) were there too, & explained to me that a film crew was making commercial for NY state parks. There was a “model family” (complete with trendy dog) and the crew was shooting film this day of them “camping”, kayaking, etc. in our very own scenic paradise Moreau Park.

They also wanted to film a segment of the educational offerings at State Parks as well, so local favorite Dave got some of the Nature Center's goodies out. As usual, a crowd of kids gathered around him. It looked like he was having fun!

All in a day’s work for Dave, who makes learning fun even for us big kids.Who knows but this could be the start of a film career?

More likely, it will be the start of even more visitors coming to Moreau in the future.

Thinking of that with mixed feelings, I continued on my walk.

Saw toadflax, which is also called butter-and-eggs. It makes me think of a big plate of scrambled eggs like they serve at Sally’s Hen House:

Speaking of hens – a mandala of ducks was hanging out by the Fishing Bridge.

She would have been a good spokeswoman for the commercial –

instead of "AFLAC !" - she could be quacking "OPRHP !" *

(*Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation)

Don’t forget ME – I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille ~!

Thoreau's Birthday

July 12 2009 – am

to Sleepy Hollow

[This is an especially long entry - please bear with me! Since things are so far behind in this blog- it's time to catch up to the present ~!
In order to do so, I am leaving out some of the other things that happened in Concord, perhaps to tell at another time. This entry is about my very last day there, when I stayed a little later than planned, and had a marvelous experience as a result.]

Woke up very early and headed over to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, to leave a small offering at the gravesite of Henry Thoreau.
When I asked Corky if she wanted to come along, she said,
"I'm heading for the woods,
that's where he speaks to me."

I thought about that, in the car, all the way over there.

She's right.

But visiting the cemetery was sort of a tradition. Throughout the year, people leave little things on and around his small and simple headstone.

(photo courtesy of Rob DePaolo)

It's a touching sight at any time of year. Many others who were visiting Concord this week would be coming here, too — for today was Thoreau’s birthday.

It had rained hard overnight and the sky was a morose shade of gray. I parked at the gate and walked along the dark path, up the hill toward Author's Ridge. Past the large white quartz boulder with engraved bronze plaque that serves as Emerson's gravestone. Past Lousia May Alcott's plot, where small tokens -- acorns, pennies and, curiously, ballpoint pens -- had been left by admirers. Past Nathaniel Hawthorne and his wife Sophia.
I didn't see anyone else around at that early hour, so it was a meditative walk.

At the Thoreau plot, I left my small gifts. Something biodegradable that Henry was fond of.

Corky's words were still bouncing around in my head.

Boing
boing
boing.

No, wait - that was the sound of a green frog! Several green frogs.
Behind Author's Ridge, the ground drops off sharply to ... a swamp.

I enter a swamp as a sacred place—a sanctum sanctorum.
HDT, Walking

I followed the sound of the frogs. The path ended at a crumbling stone gate with a chain across it. Beyond the chain -- was a trail to the swamp.
After a short distance, there it was - a quiet murky pool of water in the middle of a dark woods.

The frogs plucked their banjos contently, playing a tune that Henry was very familiar with.
I rejoice that it can be heard near his resting-place, more than a hundred years later.

July 12, 2009 late morning
To Walden Pond on foot



Today was the day to leave Walden. The car was packed, goodbyes were said,
and yet …
... maybe there was time for one more walk around the perimeter of Walden Pond…?

The heavy clouds were lifting, and it promised to be a hot sunny day.
At a huge mud puddle along the narrow fenced-in path, I met a mother with two small children.
Marco and his little sister Ana Gracia both carried small red tin pails. “They want to find a turtle,” their mom explained. La tortuga.


Well now! Despite being a genuine certified Turtle Monitor at Lake George,
I’d never seen a turtle in the clear waters of Walden pond itself, but I thought they might see one around the other side, in Wyman’s Meadow (really a shallow weedy pond.) So off we went.
The kids were curious about everything, and it was fun to point out some things to them. They asked about Thoreau. They ate sorrel leaves. At their mother's urging, they waded in the water.

What a great mom.

Their mom Maria said that her son told her that he “wanted to be like the scientist Darwin.”
Darwin! This little guy was in second or third grade!
He’d already spotted a painted turtle in a small pool along the trail, that our grown-up eyes had missed.
We continued around Walden Pond, passing those little openings in the undergrowth where rocky steps lead out into the water.
At one, a man was just coming out from swimming. We turned to say hello, when the little boy said, “Look, a turtle!”



Sure enough, there was a young snapping turtle floating just offshore. I was surprised and pleased to see it there, in the clear waters of Walden itself.
Wow, what an educational opportunity! I thought.
"Mr. Thoreau had a special place in his heart for turtles," I told the kids.
He and his brother John taught school for several years, and their field trips with the children to places like Walden Pond were considered a radical teaching method in those days.

The man said, “It’s been hanging around there for a while now.”
We all stood and watched it.

Then the turtle did a flip.
The man & I looked at each other. “THAT was weird.”
Then we noticed a twig or something hanging below the turtle in the water.

It seemed to follow the turtle as she swam around.

Uh-oh.

Fishing line.

The turtle was caught in fishing line and the twig was like an anchor. Something had to be done.
“Is she going to die?” said the boy.
This could turn into a really bad version of Wild Kingdom, fast.


The man resourcefully used a long stick to loop around the line, and draw the turtle gently closer to shore. We pulled her in as close as we dared, then the brave man cut the line closely with my teeny tiny Swiss Army knife. What else could we do? This turtle had been hooked, perhaps intentionally. There was no way any of us was going to reach into a snapping turtle’s mouth to take out a hook.
But at least now, cut free of the line, she could swim freely.

Which we figured she would do, hastily.

What she did next was completely unexpected.

Instead of fleeing from us humans, she came even closer until she was on the bottom step, halfway out of the water, and fixed a beady eye on each of us.

“She’s thanking us,” said the mother.
There was a long pause.
The five of us, and the turtle, silently gazed at each other.


Then the turtle backed into the water again, and slowly moved out of sight along the shore. How she will fare in the days to come, is anyone’s guess, but if we had not happened along, her end would have been fairly certain.

We each went our separate ways after that. The family took a little lunch break at Wyman's Meadow, and when I walked away, the children were happily watching frogs along the water's edge.
They give me hope for the green future.

In the car on the long drive home, I thought,
What better way to celebrate Henry Thoreau’s birth-day?


Consider the turtle … has not the great world existed for them as much as for you?
~ HDT, Journal