We Interrrrr-rupt This Message

March 21, 2012
Queensbury, NY
Along the Warren County Bike Path


...with an important bulletin: Spring is Here!
New Year's Greetings to all my friends both near and far.

I'll let the wood frogs tell you all about it:

Each new year is a surprise to us.
We find that we had virtually forgotten
the note of each bird,
and when we hear it again
it is remembered like a dream,
reminding us of a previous state of existence.
How happens it that the associations it awakens
are always pleasing,
never saddening;
reminiscences of our sanest hours?
The voice of nature is always encouraging.
     HDT Journal, March 18, 1858

Crystalline Botany

[from “The Second November” : December 2011]

December 25, 2011
Moreau Lake State Park

In the winter,
the botanist needs not confine himself
to his books and herbarium,
and give over his outdoor pursuits,
but may study a new department
of vegetable physiology,
what may be called crystalline botany, then.
    HDT, The Natural History of Massachusetts, 1842

It was Christmas Day, and I had a day off, after a long long week at work.
As is our usual custom, Rick came over from Vermont for the holiday.
We both wanted to get outdoors and enjoy some fresh air.
So we went for a walk at Moreau Lake, even though there was STILL no snow, the lake had not yet frozen, and the sky was dreary and damp.

We parked the car and walked in past the gate. The road to the beach is closed in winter. But you can walk in, and we ambled down the hill,
not having any plans exactly.
Just past the Warming Hut, we took a sharp left turn to visit what I call Zen Brook.
Red Oak Ridge trail crosses the brook, at the foot of a steep hill.
The brook tumbles down the slope in the form of mini-waterfalls and
little meditation pools.

Many folks pause here to look up the hill, admire the brook, and then keep following the trail as it continues away through the woods.
At the little bridge, we left the trail, and climbed slowly up one side of the brook.

It’s one of several places I know of in the park to see liverwort in all its scaly beauty. Or as we call it, “lizard-wort.”

But at this time of year, that’s about it for plants.
So it’s time for ... Crystalline Botany!

It’s interesting to observe how water moves down the hill in little steps.

I love the way moving water somehow turns to ice.

And the various forms it takes.

Lacy ice,

Spikey ice,

And my favorite, bubbly ice!

We hung out at the brook for a while, taking photos and just enjoying the simple beauty. Its gurgling sound was soothing to the soul.

I had come here a few days earlier, to see if the Big Lake was frozen over yet. When I arrived that day, it was plenty cold, but a stiff breeze was blowing.
No ice.
It had been too warm for any of the local lakes to freeze yet, in this unusual winter.
I walked a while along the roadway, then circled back to return to the lakeshore.
The wind had stopped, and there was an eerie cold calm.
I stood on the shoreline, where an hour earlier, there had been choppy waves and very wet water.
To my surprise, the water was changing, as I stood there watching.
The surface was full of weird designs --

as the water became something between a liquid and a solid.

The water was gelling, right before my eyes.
It was like watching Jack Frost at work.

Rocks Which I Have Known

[from "The First November": November 2011]

November 11, 2011
Somewhere above Spier Falls, Moreau Lake State Park

When my thoughts are sensible of change,
I love to see and sit on rocks which I have known,
and pry into their moss,
and see unchangeableness so established.
I not yet gray
on rocks forever gray,
I no longer green
under the evergreens.
There is something even in the lapse of time
by which time recovers itself.
   HDT, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers 

Went a-walking with Laurie W. today, to a place she suggested.
She is a geologist by trade, and searches the ground not for blossoms, but for rocks.

She lives close by, and knows this side of the mountain
like the back of her hand. Her affection for this place is something she is passing on to her children, who just about grew up on these woods. They volunteer for trail work now, on the same trails where Laurie pushed them in a stroller when they were little.

Hunting-season had begun, and hunting is permitted in the area where we planned to walk. Laurie shook her head sadly as I stepped out of the car in my usual white cap -- and loaned me a nice blaze-orange one.

We walked upwards until we were above the river, looking down upon it on this grey day. When we weren't looking down at rocks.

I know next to nothing of the science of geology, and Laurie was patient enough to point out some interesting things to my unpracticed eye,

Like precipitates - not just a dirty rock, these are stuck on permanently

And garnets in feldspar - or is it gneiss?
well, they are garnets, anyway

I like how this shale-like rock just decided to break down

And share its space with another life-form

 

The line between plant and stone Is not always clear

This  apple-sized “stone” turned out to be a mushroom: Earth-Ball

A drop of morning dew on this moss looked so refreshing

And even dead leaves looked leathery-rich.

Our walk ended when some dark clouds scudded in from the west, and it seemed that perhaps we'd get the snow we have all been waiting for.

Four Novembers

It is but a short time these afternoons
before the night cometh in which no man can walk.
If you delay to start till three o’clock,
there will be hardly time left for a long and rich adventure,
to get fairly out of town.
November Eat-heart, is that the name of it?
Not only the fingers cease to do their office,
but there is often a benumbing of the faculties generally.

HDT's Journal, November 25, 1857

It becomes apparent when you read Thoreau’s Journals –
which he kept from 1837 until shortly before his death in 1862 –
that he had a hard time with November.
He would work himself into a very deep funk at that time of year.
I guess any of us who follow the flowers are at a loss as to what to do between the time of the killing frosts and the first gladdening snowfall.

Mercifully that interval is usually a short one, and in no time at all,
we are having fun in the snow.

Well it’s a good thing Henry T. was not around for THIS winter,
because around here, we have basically had four Novembers in a row!  No white Christmas, and precious little snowfall
(most of it an inch at a time, and then quickly melted
by the unusually warm temperatures.)

The most we’ve had was several inches’ worth on the very morning of our Winter Tracking Workshop (thank goodness!)  But since then, the ground has been mostly open.

 Foreboding skies constantly threatened -- but if anything, we got rain. Ugh.

It's enough to stop and make you think.

I’d say the raw-damp-grey days outnumbered the sunny ones,
but you won’t see many photos of those.
I'm in a foul mood, myself!
And have fallen very far behind in my blogging, for one reason or another.

In an attempt to catch up, let me somehow pick out just four days - one day for each of our Four Novembers this winter -
days that, in retrospect, stand out as days well spent.

At Such a Moment

Friday January 27, 2012

If I were to choose a time for a friend
to make a passing visit to this world for the first time,
in the full possession of all his faculties,
perchance it would be at a moment
when the sun was setting with the splendor in the west,
his light reflected far and wide
through the clarified air after a rain,
and a brilliant rainbow,
as now, o’erarching the eastern sky.
Would he be likely to think this a vulgar place to live,
where one would weary of existence,
and be compelled to devote his life to frivolity
and dissipation?
If a man traveling from world to world
were to pass through this world at such a moment,
would he not be tempted to take up his abode here ?

HDT’s Journal: August 7, 1852

A Visit to Kawing Crow

January 21, 2011
Kawing Crow Awareness Center
Greenfield Center, NY

It is not merely crow calling to crow,
For it speaks to me too.
I am part of one great creature with him:
If he has voice,
I have ears.

     HDT's Journal, January 12, 1855

Today was our visit to Kawing Crow Awareness Center, for a tracking workshop sponsored by our local Audubon Chapter. After a largely snow-less month, we received a few inches of very fluffy flakes on the day before our visit. Now we might see some actual tracks!
Then, on the morning of our visit, it snowed again -- just an inch or so, but it was very fine and granular. Any tracks from last night would be filled-in by this sort of stuff.

Conditions that morning were slippery, and our little convoy was on the roads before the sanding trucks.  Kawing Crow is on the high ridge of Greenfield Center.  Once there, Vince greeted us and we spent some time inside the Nature Center, discussing all manner of outdoor things. For many of our group it was their first visit.

Vince is a woodsman extraordinaire, and his love for nature shines through. His wife Erica shares this love and his plans for a sustainable lifestyle.
They are the proud parents of Mavia, a pretty mellow little girl who is going to have a very interesting childhood.
[I am not sure how to spell her name, so my apologies to her parents. It could be Mavia (an arab queen?) or a variation of Maeve (legendary irish faery queen?) or Maevia (a north american jumping spider?) Only time will tell which of these she comes to favor!
The Nature Center is full of taxidermied examples of the local wildlife. While we were discussing canines, several  of these preserved critters were on the table before us. Vince was holding Mavia in the crook of his arm, as she gently reached out to pat the head of the red fox.

After lunch, we hit the trail. No showshoes were necessary, but the day was penetratingly cold.  I had gotten chilled sitting indoors for so long, and just could not build up any body heat once we were outdoors. As soon as we started seeing and learning about animal signs in the snow,  it was so interesting that cold fingers and toes were temporarily forgotten.

Vince’s family joined us for a short time on the hike.  Erica had bundled up Mavia, who travelled in style.

We had all been fussing over her as much as the specimens !
But then, as I was taking yet another photo of her terminal cuteness,
she shot me The Look.

THE LOOK !

I knew it well, from my days as a photographer for PCA corporation.
I had an immediate flashback to those days.

They were long and arduous days, travelling each week to a different  department store in the Tri-State area, staying in the cheapest of hotels, lugging the entire contents of a portable studio in my VW bug. This included a cash register, signs, scenic background screens,  camera, props etc.  They were ten-hour days of taking portraits, mostly of babies. People would line up to spend 88 cents for a photo, especially around holidays.  After a long wait in one of these lines, even the most serene of babies will reach the point when dimples turn to frowns … and at that fragile tipping point, you get The Look. Tears are sure to follow.

Well, Mavia was in good hands, however, and she and Erica left the trail for warmer climes.

The rest of us continued on, stopping now and again to read the Book of the Woods. Vince doesn’t just dish out answers, he makes you puzzle things out.

All in all, it was a great time outdoors with like-minded folks.
Vince's trails lead across some beautiful swampland, which would be wonderful to visit in other seasons.  

 

A special thanks to Southern Adirondack Audubon for organizing this excursion.

Visiting the Grasslands

January 15, 2012
Fort Edward Grasslands, NY

I rejoice that there are owls.

    HDT Walden, “Sounds”

Hmm, what to do on a bitterly-cold and breezy Sunday afternoon? What about a trip to open country !

Along with mountains, lakes and river scenery, we are blessed with having an area not too far from here that is a true grassland environment. The Fort Edward Grasslands are unique in that they attract many birds with specific open-space preferences.

In winter, this area is known to be frequented by Short-Eared Owls, which are classified as endangered in New York state. These owls come down from the Artic to spend the winter in the northern U.S.

I had never seen one, so today Jackie and I turned to the East, and took a ride over there.

The owls usually show themselves right around sunset, and we spent some time driving around the back roads, getting glimpses of other raptors known to favor this sort of terrain.  Those include dark-phase Rough-legged Hawks and Northern Harriers.

It was almost impossible to get any photos of these creatures, since we were bundled up from head to toe, and taking photos involved struggling out from the seatbelts, jumping out briefly, and hopping back into the car. It was THAT cold. Jackie wore her coat she calls “The Sleeping Bag.”  But it was still windy enough to make your eyes water, as you held the binoculars or camera up.

It was like travelling back in time, to see farms perched on the hillsides of this beautiful open country.

The future holds many threats of development, so that this type of grassland can also be considered “endangered.”  There are big threats on the horizon as developers eye this tempting, relatively flat scenery.
Thanks to several local organizations, and private property owners, certain places here are set aside as Protected Areas for the birds.
For an overview, click here.

After our driveabout,  the sun finally began to sink below the horizon.
We were both frozen but headed back to the spot where our birding pal Lindsey suggested was the best place to see an owl.

After some time sitting in the chilly car, I was about ready to head home, but we decided to stay juuust a few moments longer.
For as Thoreau noted in his Journal, when you continue just past that turnaround point, that is when you really see things.

Lo and behold, two other cars appeared and parked nearby on the dead-end road. We got out to chat with them. 

They had already spotted an owl ! For the next ten minutes, we watched two or three owls rise ghostly out of the tall grasses in the distant field. They flapped like bats, with changing  wingbeats. It was too dim to even think of trying to get a photo,  the owls were two fields away, and we were all intently watching through  binoculars, anyway.

Besides, one of the other watchers had a camera with a HUGE lens, mounted on a tripod.  Upon seeing his setup, I was briefly overcome with an acute case of lensvy (= lens envy).
But I got over it when he introduced himself as Gordie Ellmers. Gordie is a local photographer and wildlife observer par excellence. I have admired his amazing photos for years, so it was a thrill to meet him. He was the one to get photos of our feathered quarry today, and here is one that he shared with us afterward:

                           [photo by Gordon Ellmers, used with permission]

You can see more of his stunning photos on this page created by our local Audubon Chapter. Here, in fantastic detail, you will see all three of the raptors that we saw in fleeting glimpses today.

In ten minutes, the owl show was over. We all headed back to our cars.  My hands were frozen in the Binoculars Up position. Jackie was going to stop along the river, on her way back home to the south. She captured the final beauty of the day,  as you can see by her own blog here.

I however, was done exploring, and with my frozen clawed hands on the steering wheel,  steered northward to home.  There was a lasagna dinner waiting for me, and I didn’t make any scenic stops at all !

Afterward, I just couldn’t get warm. These are the times I miss the ol’ woodstove of my Vermont days. It was so-ooo nice to curl up in a chair near the stove and feel the warmth just ooze into you.
I live in a small apartment now, so that is not an option anymore.
But, here you see me, sitting cozy before a fire...?

(OK, it’s really just a dvd that I found for fifty cents at the last library book sale -- how could I resist?)

In the glow of the virtual flames, I browsed through my new and altogether excellent Crossley’s bird guide.  
Later, in Thoreau’s Journal,  I found a good description of the Bird of the Day:

At midday (3 p.m.) saw an owl fly from toward the river
and alight on Mrs. Richardson’s front-yard fence.
Got quite near it, and followed it to a rock on the heap of dirt at Collier’s cellar. A rather dark brown owl above
(with a decided owl head (and eyes), though not very broad), with longitudinal tawny streaks (or the reverse),
none transverse, growing lighter down the breast,
and a length clear rusty yellowish or cream-color beneath and about feathered feet.  Wings large and long, with a distinct black spot beneath;
bill and claws, I think, black. Saw no ears.  Kept turning its head and great black eyes this way and that when it heard me, but appeared not to see me.
Saw my shadow better, for I approached on the sunny side.
I am inclined to think it the short-eared owl,
though I could see no ears, though it reminded me of what I had read of the hawk owl.
It was a foot or more long and spread about three feet.
Flew somewhat flappingly, yet hawk-like.
Went within two or three rods of it.

      HDT Journal, December 8, 1853