Spicebush Log

Snow turns to Slush

2012-01-27T09:37:00.000-05:00

The dreary winter of 2012 has returned. The soft, white snow of last weekend has given way to rain and slush. All week as daytime temperatures rose into the 40s, the snow melted away inch by inch, and there wasn't much to begin with. Snow-packed trails turned into ice-covered slippery lanes. Even the dogs were having trouble, skating past each other when they tried to meet up.

This morning the driveway was covered in two inches of slushy snow. Light snow during the night changed over to rain, which will continue into the afternoon. Rain-drenched goldfinches continue to dominate the bird feeders. A red squirrel hangs out below them, taking advantage of their sloppy eating style.

The week ahead looks to be above normal--mostly sunny and in the 40s. At this point in the season I'd like all the snow to melt and then have a fresh start in February. Though, the Farmer's Almanac predicts unsettled weather ahead with more wet snow in store.

One goldfinch is sporting bright new yellow feathers on its back--a sunny spot on an otherwise gray, gloomy day.

Kodi and Wild Canids

2012-01-24T08:22:00.001-05:00

We are fascinated by Kodi's starkly different reactions to foxes versus coyotes. In the pecking order of wild canids it goes by size: wolves are at the top, followed by coyotes, then foxes. Here in the northeast, the small red fox (10 to 15 pounds) avoids its larger competitor the 35 to 40 pound coyote whenever possible. Kodi weighs in at 50 pounds, but falls between the red fox and the coyote in the pecking order.

Kodi will not accompany me on walks in certain places - those areas where coyote sign is strong and domestic dog evidence is low. If he smells coyote in the air, or sniffs its urine on a twig, or picks up a coyote track, he tucks his tail and ears and turns back toward home. A fox track elicits the opposite reaction. When Kodi picks up the scent of a fox, he runs fast in search of the next track, with tail up and spirits high.

I spent the weekend at my parent's Winterberry Farm in western Massachusetts where both coyote and fox roam. Kodi is reluctant to follow me down into the fields in the back forty, where coyotes travel daily. On Saturday at noon I happen to look outside at the bird feeders and there was a red fox feeding on spilled bits of suet and seeds. He was a mangy looking fox, which is likely why he was seeking food beneath a feeder at mid-day. Mange often kills in winter as the animal is unable to stay warm given the loss of so much fur. Finding food to stay warm is critical.

I waited about a half hour before going outside with Kodi. I wanted to see if he immediately picked up on the fox scent. Sure enough, as soon as we reached the feeders he started sniffing, found the track, then darted in a big circle where the fox had wandered. Kodi was moving fast and I was worried that he might follow the fox track across a busy road so I leashed him up. I let Kodi follow the tracks which led down to one of the back fields. Then we crossed a much larger coyote track. Kodi immediately noticed without any prompting from me. He looked up, sniffed the air, and started back the way we came. Soon, we picked up the fox track and his mood changed again. The thrill of the pursuit was on again.

For the two years that we've had Kodi he has never seen a fox or a coyote up close. His first year of life was spent in a kennel and who knows where else in Indiana. So, his ability to separate coyote from fox seems completely innate and entirely by scent. We've never had a dog that behaved this way with wild canids. It is fascinating, although also frustrating when Kodi refuses to venture into coyote territory. Coyotes are common, so there are some wonderful places that Kodi will not go.

Back at the feeders, Kodi trotted over to several small shrubs and tree seedlings, raised his leg, and urinated. Kodi was alerting the fox that this was his territory. Canid researchers call this "raised leg urination," a key part of the canid scent-marking toolkit. Upon our return to New Hampshire, Kodi immediately insisted on a walk around the neighborhood so he could deploy his own raised leg urination to let friend and foe alike know that he was back.

Patterns in Snow

2012-01-22T12:00:00.004-05:00

We are enjoying a few fine days of winter, before freezing rain and rain tomorrow disturb the tranquility and beauty of the fresh snow. Yesterday Kodi and I walked a woodland trail at my parents Winterberry Farm during the snowstorm that left 5 inches of soft snow. Kodi with tail down followed a coyote track; he is nervous in coyote country.

This morning Kodi and I hiked a favorite nearby trail, a woodland trail that leads to the top of Rattlesnake Knob and away from where coyotes roam, a place that I've written about before. Kodi and I both took note of the patterns in the snow. He noted a fox track and the network of porcupine trails that likely led to a den in the rock outcrops on the slopes of Rattlesnake Knob. I noted the many woodland mice that left their dainty tracks at the base of trees and around fallen logs.

A porcupine trail

The wind that sweeps across the ridge that ends at Rattlesnake Knob left artistic patterns in the snow. A morning after a fresh snow is a precious time to be in the woods.

Pack Monadnock

2012-01-20T17:19:00.004-05:00

Two to three inches of beautiful powdery snow fell overnight, then the skies cleared and the temperature remained below freezing. This was one of the those perfect winter days, of which we've seen little of so far.

Kodi and I traveled to western Massachusetts today, taking the slower, scenic route along Route 101. We stopped at Miller State Park on the border of Temple and Peterborough in southern New Hampshire for a hike up to the summit of 2,290-foot Pack Monadnock. I was pleasantly surprised to see a State Park truck spreading sand at the entrance to the parking area when we arrived at mid-morning. The parking area was large and accessible even though the new snow had not been plowed. Two guys were just returning to their cars after hiking up and suggested some traction, so I strapped on the microspikes.

We opted for the 1.3 mile auto road that leads to the top of the mountain; it is gated in winter. The woods were beautiful in their fresh blanket of snow.

The auto road has a gentle grade that gets steeper near the top. We reached the summit within 45 minutes going at a relaxed pace. The summit looks like a small village with a fire tower, air monitoring station, cell towers, radio tower, picnic shelters and tables, and some other stuff. It must get a little claustrophobic in summer when people can drive to the top. Today though Kodi and I had the windswept peak and the views (including a clear view of Mount Monadnock) to ourselves.

As we started down I was startled by a truck driving up the road. Apparently the air monitoring station is monitored routinely so perhaps that was where they were headed. Here is a collage of some of the structures on top.

I'd like to return to this area in the warm season. The 21-mile Wapack Trail runs in both directions from this park and there appears to be some interesting lands in the vicinity including The Nature Conservancy's Joanne Bass Bross Preserve and the Wapack National Wildlife Refuge. A trail map for Miller State Park is available here. Our jaunt this morning took only 1 hour 15 minutes so it is a nice spot for a quick walk or you could spend all day exploring the greater surroundings. I plan to return.

January Notes 2012

2012-01-18T15:18:00.005-05:00

A cold west wind whistles through the trees, ruffling the feathers of small birds and tousling the hairs on a red squirrel's tail. A red and gray squirrel trade places beneath the feeder. The smaller red squirrel moves quickly, perhaps nervously, attentive to defending its space against the larger gray squirrel. Once it feels safe the red squirrel quietly feeds on sunflower seeds spilled by birds, its tail curved along its back.

While one or more gray squirrels visit the feeders every morning, I see the red squirrel only on the coldest of days, such as today. He spends most of the day at or near the feeders. Then at 3:00 pm he darts off to a nearby white pine, then scurries back toward the deeper woods, where I assume he'll spend the night curled up in a nest of leaves. The gray squirrels retreated to their tree nests of leaves and twigs earlier in the day.

A flock of two dozen goldfinches comes every morning and stays until early afternoon, by which time they've consumed most of the nijer and sunflower seeds in each feeder. They are more piggish than the squirrels. And they are rather dull in plumage in January. The squirrels are more colorful, in pelage and in antics. So I watch the squirrels not the birds from my home office window.

By late afternoon a handful of tufted titmice return, darting to and from the feeders along with chickadees. Most birds stay away on these windy days. Winter is with us in fits and starts this year. Yesterday morning a beautiful coating of fresh snow greeted us at daybreak, by day's end rain drops rippled in the pools of melted snow on the driveway. The animals seem to fare just fine with the ups and downs of cold and warm, snow and rain, wind and fog. My body takes longer to acclimate. Yesterday I soaked up the warm afternoon sun. Today's cold wind chills my bones. Time to do as the animals do. Get up and move around, some stretches, some exercises, take in some food. Oh, and fill the bird feeders (for the squirrels).

A Cold Trek to Avalon

2012-01-15T18:56:00.003-05:00

Crawford Notch. 8:30 am. Minus 6 degrees Fahrenheit. Wind chill somewhere near 20 below or colder. Our group of five (plus Kodi) hoisted our heavy winter packs and with the wind swirling through the Notch we hiked past the Crawford train depot and ducked into the woods and out of the wind. No escaping the cold, however.

A look back at the Crawford train depot before ducking into the woods

Our destination was 3,442-foot Mt. Avalon, and beyond if conditions allowed. Yesterday we debated back and forth whether to attempt a hike on such a cold day. The temperature was forecast to remain below zero. But the views on such a clear, cold day would be spectacular. We worried about Kodi's paws, but he's performed well before and seems to like the cold. However, sub-zero snow underfoot is another thing entirely.

The Avalon Trail was well-packed and we progressed easily in our bare boots. The beauty of winter hiking is that regardless of the temperature, when you start hiking uphill you warm up quickly. We were all pretty comfortable, except for Kodi.

The first 1.3 miles of the Avalon Trail is an easy grade. At the juncture with the A-Z Trail, Avalon Trail turns left and begins a steep climb for 0.5 miles to the short spur that leads to the top of Mt. Avalon. We moved slowly up the 1/2 mile pitch as we sucked in the cold mountain air with deep breaths. Kodi stopped often to lick his paws, his warm tongue soothing his cold feet and melting small ice balls that formed between his toes.

The 100 yard spur to the top of Mt. Avalon is beautiful in winter. The peaks in Crawford Notch were more socked in than we expected so distant views were non-existent. Views close in made up for some of the lack of sweeping views. Two gray jays entertained Kodi enough that he forgot about his cold paws for a bit. We were protected from the fierce winds atop Mt. Avalon so we lingered a little longer.

We descended back to the small col below the summit and decided that for Kodi we needed to turn back, rather than continue on and up to Mt. Field and over to Mt. Tom. I think our hiking companions have all grown fond of Kodi and readily agreed to shorten the trip. Secretly some of us didn't mind heading back down to a warmer place too. It was cold. We arrived back at the AMC Highland Center parking lot around noon. Temperature minus 4 degrees Fahrenheit.

Many hardy folk were on the trails today; we passed people going up and down on the Avalon Trail. Back at the Highland Center we spread out our lunch and snacks from our packs in the dining room and warmed our bodies with hot soup. It felt good to have hiked to Mt. Avalon and back and it felt good to have our lunch inside rather than trail side on the slopes of a frigid Mt. Field. Kodi was glad to be snuggling back in his crate in the car. He was fine, although we need to check out dog booties for future cold, winter hikes.

On the drive home we paused briefly at the Intervale to take in the spectacular view of Mt. Washington - clear and cold in the distance.

Four Bluebirds

2012-01-10T09:29:00.000-05:00

Four bluebirds - two females and two males - made a brief stop at our bird feeders yesterday. That was a first. In mild winters bluebirds do stay around southeastern New Hampshire. Typically I see them in the trees bordering the nearby Mitchell fields along Bald Hill Road. Bluebirds eat mostly insects, with fruit more prominent in their fall and winter diet. The bluebirds that stopped by yesterday were mostly observing, one looked down at the ground, like a robin sensing a worm.

Given the mild winter of 2011-2012, it would not surprise me to find a worm on a warm afternoon. Some days it gets quite cold, but then it warms to 40+ degrees. The woods are bare and a little dull without snow. I began collating my seed order yesterday and measured my garden. It is hard to believe that the outdoor planting time is still three months away.

Snowmobiling and ice fishing are not my thing, but I appreciate that those who depend on these activities are having a tough year. Thin ice and bare trails prevail.

My winter spirits were lifted last evening when I drove home after a meeting, as the wolf moon was rising. I heard no wolves (or coyotes, which would be more likely here) howling, but the moon was a gorgeous light orange color as it emerged on the horizon among slivers of clouds.

Snow, sleet, and rain are in the forecast this week....perhaps a tease that winter will arrive before spring.

Mt Passaconaway

2012-01-03T08:28:00.008-05:00

Yesterday we completed our first winter hike of 2012 to the summit of 4,043-foot Mt. Passaconaway. The high summits forecast called for cold northwest winds in excess of 50 mph, so our initial plan to hike to Mt. Flume or the Kinsmans was swapped for a more wind-protected hike to Passaconaway.

We set out with our hiking companions John, Paul, and Mike at 8:50 am from the Ferncroft parking lot. Eight hours later we arrived back at the cars as a waxing moon appeared overhead among shifting clouds as daylight faded with the setting sun. It was a long (9.4 miles) but beautiful hike via Old Mast Road to Walden Trail to the summit, then back down on Dicey's Mill Trail.

As other hikers know, there is little snow in the woods and lots of ice on some sections of trails. The initial 2-mile leg of the hike was a gentle grade along Old Mast Road. The microspikes were put on our boots early in the hike as what little snow there was underfoot was icy or crusty.

We reached the Walden Trail in good time. According to the White Mountain Guide, the Walden Trail was significantly reconstructed recently by the Wonalancet Outdoor Club. Although it is harder to see improvements when snow and ice are covering the trail, we greatly appreciate the hard work that the volunteer crew completed. The Walden Trail includes several ups and downs and with ice bulges in some steeper spots it was slow going.

The trail passes many large boulders and ice flows and Kodi was thinking that he prefers deep powdery snow to the ice. There was more snow at the higher elevations and the descent on Dicey's Mill Trail was covered in enough soft snow that ice was not a problem, allowing for a relatively quick descent. We briefly encountered a bit of what John called "sneet," not quite snow and not quite sleet.

On the final climb to the summit we passed through an area where one or more moose had rubbed its antlers on fir trees, stripping them of bark. We saw tracks of moose, snowshoe hare, grouse, and fisher. Bits of mountain ash berries were dropped on the trail up high, while yellow birch catkins and beechnut husks were strewn on Dicey's Mill Trail as we descended, in area with many bear-clawed beech trees. I heard a boreal chickadee and a robin, but mostly the woods were silent except for the sound of own breaths as we climbed.

It took us 5 1/2 hours to reach the summit of Mt. Passaconaway. At 2:15 pm we were looking east and north from the outlook just below the summit (which is in the woods). Although the temperature was below freezing and somewhere the wind was blowing strong, we were well-protected and not feeling cold (tired yes!).

Kodi waits for Srini as we climbed toward the summit

A view to the south toward our starting point;

the lakes region in the distance

Views to the east and north from the east outlook,
just below the summit of Mt. Passaconaway

Just past the summit, another outlook offers views to the north and west,

including a fine view of the Tripyramids

After a few final looks at the high summits to the north we began the 4.6-mile descent on Dicey's Mill Trail. The going was relatively easy compared to the ascent, and we reached the parking lot within 2 1/2 hours. There was just enough light that headlamps were not needed and it is always a nice sight to emerge into the fields at Ferncroft and walk past the well-kept farmhouse, the private landowners who kindly allow us all to hike right past their house and barn.

Thanks to John for selecting this loop hike; we were out of the wind almost all day and he knew the trail well having recently hiked it by himself. Thanks Paul for the hand-up on a few steep pitches and to Mike for the gingerbread cookies back at the car. Kodi slept soundly all the way home.

At the Beach

2012-01-01T07:13:00.003-05:00

A week ago yesterday we were atop the 4,000+ foot Camel's Hump in western Vermont. The sky was clear, the temperature in the teens, no wind. Yesterday we were at sea level at Seapoint Beach in Kittery, Maine. The sky was gray with thick rain clouds, the temperature hovered at 32 F, and a light, but cold, northwest wind blew across the sands. It felt colder yesterday, everything was gray.

And yet, there was still so much to see and explore. A small flock of bufflehead bobbed and dived just offshore. A handful of purple sandpipers stood on the big rocks that jut into the water; this sandpiper breeds on the tundra and spends its winters along our coast while other shorebirds head farther south. Two snow buntings, another arctic breeder, flitted on the rocky beach. A larger flock of ring-billed gulls foraged in the wrack at the edge of the tide line.

The wrack was full of myriad types of kelp, sponges, mussels, and other creatures.

Seapoint Beach has two types of beaches. One long stretch is flat and sandy, this is where the wrack was deposited at high tide, where the gulls were feeding. Farther down and around a rocky point the beach changes. It becomes steeper, with deep piles of rounded stones shaped over eons by the rush of the tides. As we walked this stretch, we listened to the swoosh of the tide as it slid back down the pebbly slope, acting like a giant percussion rainstick.

As we walked back to the cars, Kodi and his two friends Quercus and Persica, sat for a treat. All three loved exploring the beach in winter, as did we.

Camel's Hump

2011-12-25T15:49:00.007-05:00

We received a wonderful gift a day early on Christmas Eve - a beautiful cold, clear, windless winter day to climb 4,083-foot Camel's Hump in the Green Mountains of Vermont. Up to six inches of snow fell the day before, coating the trails, trees, and rocks with soft powdery snow. Simply beautiful to be outside on such a day.

This was our first climb of Camel's Hump in any season. We chose a 5.8-mile loop, much preferring that to an out and back on the same trail. We were prepared for ice, strapping on microspikes to the bottom of our boots soon after we started. At 7:45 am we were the first to arrive at the well-maintained and freshly plowed and sanded parking lot. Temperature 5 degrees. As we prepared to start our hike another car arrived with Lulu, a Kodi-like canine, and her human companion. They were going a different way so we never saw them again, nor anyone else all morning until we started our descent at 12:30 from the top of Camel's Hump.

All morning we shared the woods with just the animals: snowshoe hare, grouse, and weasel tracks; the sweet tweets of kinglets and chickadees; a flock of cedar waxwings eating mountain ash berries. The morning sun caught the tops of the trees overhead just as we started north on the Long Trail.

Our route took us in a counterclockwise direction via the Connector Trail to the Forest City Trail to the Long Trail, then back on the Burrows Trail. The trail guide said this route takes about 4 hours in summer. We took 6 hours. The trail was new to us and the fresh snow covered ice underfoot and obscured the best foot and hand holds.

Just as we started north on the Long Trail toward the summit of Camel's Hump, we passed a sign that warned about the trail ahead. It said the trail can be difficult to follow in winter. We encountered several challenging spots: ice covered rocks that we had to scale, a narrow canyon slot to get across with Kodi, a high ledge that we climbed up and over, a narrow ledge that we inched around while hugging the rock face, and the final ascent above treeline. Yet, it was a beautiful route with spectacular views and offered challenges that we studied and overcame and pressed on to the top, exhilarated by the hike and the views.

The views to the south and east as we climbed the Long Trail were especially spectacular.

The first 1.3 miles of our hike (the Connector Trail and the Forest City Trail) took us 1 hour and 20 minutes to hike. The next 1.9 miles to the summit took 3 hours, because of trail conditions. The slow pace was worth ever step as the blue sky, white winter wonderland, crisp air, and lack of wind made for an amazing day of hiking. The final 0.2 miles to the summit held a final few challenges for us before we finally reached the top.

And then we reached the top.

The 360 degree view from the bare (camel's hump) summit was awesome and such a day. We looked north to Mt. Mansfield, the tallest mountain in Vermont.

We looked east to the White Mountains in New Hampshire, The High Presidentials and the Franconia Ridge clear in the crisp air.

We looked south along the Long Trail to Mt. Ellen in the distance, while the view west across Lake Champlain to the Adirondacks was the only view obscured by clouds.

We took in the final views near and far as we began our descent. As we descended we finally started meeting people coming up the Burrows Trail - a much easier, but far less interesting route.

All day ice crystals floated in the air, glittering before our eyes. What a gift this day was. To all a Merry Christmas.

Rain, Fog, Warm Air

2011-12-22T13:36:00.002-05:00

Forty-one degrees. Our headlamps pierce the early morning fog. A bright sliver of the waning moon wraps its crescent shape around the darkened, old moon low in the southern sky. Today is the first day of winter, although it feels and smells like the first day of spring.

On the way to the store to buy two grapefruits at mid-morning (it feels like grapefruit weather) for my nieces' Christmas basket, I flushed a turkey vulture from a road-killed gray squirrel. It was not so many years ago that vultures did not occur in northern New England even during summer months. Now they are nearly year-round - maybe this year some with stay if they find the weather favorable. Fears of climate change creep back into my thoughts. The animals fear not; they move and migrate and evolve, although the pace of change may outrun their capacities to adapt.

Tuesday morning with a temperature of 12 degrees felt more like the first day of winter. Yesterday a warm rain fell most of the day, giving a feel of the first day of fall. Today, spring-like. On Tuesday ice crystals sparkled on the frosty ground. Today, the woods sparkled with rain drops.

Happy Winter Solstice

Winter Approaches Slowly

2011-12-20T07:17:00.002-05:00

Yesterday morning the thermometer read 12.5 degrees. Cold enough to wear long underwear on our predawn walk with Kodi. Our headlamps lit up the frost-coated leaves and grasses, the ice particles sparkled like diamonds in the early morning darkness. Stars sparkled in the windless, clear air. Cassiopeia low in the northern sky, the Big Dipper overhead. The waning crescent moon in the southern sky. No sounds except for our own breaths in the cold air.

In the cold morning the ground felt hard and crunchy from tiny frost heaves. As the day warmed the ground thawed again. By nightfall the temperature had risen to 40 degrees. By the calendar winter arrives on Thursday. It has been slow in coming.

Beavers

2011-12-16T07:21:00.001-05:00

I never tire of seeing signs of beaver. This clever and hard working large rodent is perfectly suited to its life in water and on land. Beaver are busiest at night, fixing their lodge, repairing the dam, making and marking scent mounds on shore, and gnawing down trees for construction projects and for food.

Several of my regular local haunts that I visit with Kodi lead past ponds or river oxbows occupied by beavers. At one such place this week I discovered a new lodge built among a fallen red maple tree near the shore of a river oxbow.

The lodge is built of sticks and packed with lots of mud. Beavers dive down to the bottom of the river or pond to dig up soft mud, clasping it to their chest as they swim back up to the lodge. The well-built lodge includes an inner chamber about 2 feet high and 6 feet or more wide, that is built above water level. It is big enough for the family - typically the parents, two to three young of the year, and two 1-year old offspring. Sometimes the 2-years old stick around, but usually they disperse in the spring to set-up their own territory upstream. The lodge has a vent in the top to allow air exchange in winter.

In fall the beaver family begins caching food - branches of favorite foods -- near their lodge. When the water freezes over in winter, they can reach the stored branches from underwater, slipping out of their underwater lodge entrance for a meal. In the photo above you can see the extensive stash of hardwood branches next to the lodge. In summer they much prefer aquatic plants such as the tubers of water lilies.

Beaver have so many cool features and adaptations, enabling their unique lifestyle. Their large skull supports 4 sharp incisors that grow continuously. These teeth make the marks so distinct on beaver-chewed trees and branches.

They use their flat, scaly tail for balance (when gnawing trees), as a rudder while swimming, for warning (the familiar water slap), as a fat reserve (for winter), and for heat exchange. Beavers have several features that allow underwater activity: valves that close off the nose and ears, lips that close behind their teeth so they can feed and carry sticks underwater, features in the back of the mouth that prevent water going down their throat, and a nictitating membrane that protects the eyes. Beavers can spend 5 or 6 minutes underwater.

The beaver's hand-like front feet help them dig and grasp things. Their webbed hind feet provide the obvious aid to swimming and to walk on land, if awkwardly. One of the hind toes is split and is used to groom their thick fur.

Some beavers live along the shores of or in the banks of large water bodies and don't need to build a dam since the water level is naturally deep enough. In smaller water bodies they build a dam to flood an area deep enough to allow underwater winter entrance to their lodge and to reach preferred food supplies. Beaver also build small canals to reach food supplies, floating logs and branches back to the lodge or dam as needed. Their favorite all-time foods are aspen and willow, but they will take other hardwoods and sometimes pine or hemlock. Interestingly, red maple is not a favorite food, it is difficult for them to digest.

Sometimes a beaver fails to drop a tree in the right direction and it gets hung up. I've read nothing to indicate that they can judge which way a tree will fall. One study said that European beavers hang up trees about 15% of the time. That's not bad. You do wonder what the beaver thinks when they make the final gnaw, the tree begins to fall, but then hangs up. It probably gnashes it teeth. Here is one of those hung up trees.

Although not to be deterred, the beaver moves on to the next tree night after night.

Wild Pigs

2011-12-10T08:32:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking about wild things lately, in particular wild boar. This was prompted, in part, by a recent article in New Hampshire Fish and Game Department's Wildlife Journal.

Soon after I became the wildlife specialist at the University of New Hampshire Cooperative Extension in 1993, I visited several well-known large landowners. That was my job at the time, to educate and assist landowners in managing their land for wildlife. One of the first places was a 24,000-acre private hunting preserve in southwest New Hampshire known as Corbin Park. I was taken aback by this place for several reasons. First, I am not keen on private hunting preserves. Second, this preserve was open only to men, so I was told, and it cost a fortune to be a member. Corbin, the guy who founded the place in 1890, was a rich banker. If a member died, I was told that his wife would have to sell the membership. This was in 1994!

Corbin Park is surrounded by 20 miles of high fence, both to keep humans out and animals in. Exotic animals were imported to the Park and fed at various feeding stations, around which members could come with friends to shoot these animals. Perhaps there was some rule that the animals could not be shot when they are feeding, but I'm not sure if that was true. One of the imports was Eurasian wild boar. The 1938 hurricane blew down a lot of trees in the Northeast and apparently also knocked down a lot of the fence around Corbin Park. Picture Jurassic Park. The animals escaped. The fence went back up and things continued on as they were.

When I visited in the early 1990s I saw some of the fence. The fence naturally crossed all manner of terrain including small streams. A fence across a stream leaves an opening. Any self-respecting wild hog could get through such a hole. I was bewildered by the entire set-up. As I recall I was not particularly welcomed at Corbin Park. They were not much interested in my suggestions for managing native species and natural habitats, let alone for biological diversity. I never returned.

The title of the article in the Wildlife Journal is, Don't Let New Hampshire Go Hog Wild. Well, as the authors themselves write, it is too late for that. The wild pig is a hybrid animal, a result of cross-building of various strains of pigs including the original swine introduced by early European settlers and Eurasian wild boar introduced by hunting clubs. This wild hog is not native to North American. Now it is considered the most invasive and destructive large mammal on the continent, it is an ecological disaster, according to the Fish and Game article.

New Hampshire has a confirmed wild pig or feral swine population that is concentrated in Grafton, Sullivan, and Cheshire Counties. Ummm, that is where Corbin Park is located. I was surprised that the Wildlife Journal article did not call out Corbin Park for some (all?) culpability for the hog problem here. I assume that Corbin Park still has a large breeding population of wild boar along with other animals.Other strains of wild pigs are making their way year-by-year toward New England from southern states. Soon the southern feral pigs may meet the wild hogs of New Hampshire.

Wild pigs cause enormous damage and you can't shoo the hog back into a 24,000-acre park. Maybe the boar shouldn't be in the park to begin with. Reminds me of a classic case of private benefit at a public cost. You might say that those with access have gone hog wild.

December Cools, Finally

2011-12-08T14:58:00.000-05:00

I was really beginning to worry on Tuesday. After-all, it was December 6th and the afternoon temperature was above 60 F in New Hampshire and I heard a mini chorus of spring peepers in the backyard. It was one of those days, after a relatively mild start to December (following a mild November) when you wonder if climate disruption is going to happen all at once.

Well not to worry (save climate worries for another day), the forecast looks more December-like through the weekend. The wind is blowing hard today, feeling just like a December wind should feel. The birds are flocking to the feeders, even the goldfinches have finally arrived. The squirrels, well they just keep getting fatter. I noticed that one figured out how to get onto the sunflower seed feeder. I wondered why the seeds were disappearing so fast. The squirrel manages to sneak up there when I am not looking so I still don't know how she does it.

Eric Orff, a retired New Hampshire Fish and Game biologist, keeps tabs on wildlife and nature over at his blog, New Hampshire Nature Notes. On December 1st he posted a note that the warm weather has kept ducks up in Canada - no need to migrate south if you still have open lakes and ponds up north to swim around in. Skunks and bears are usually sleeping in their winter dens by now, but Eric says they are still up and alert and perhaps spraying a curious dog (the skunk) or munching on a bird feeder (the bear).

The weekend looks to be cold and clear. Sounds perfect.

Burdock Burs

2011-12-06T12:53:00.003-05:00

On Sunday afternoon we were walking in College Woods in Durham (a favorite local haunt) with our friend Ann and her two dogs Quercus and Persica. Kodi was thrilled to be running with these two canine friends. At one point Kodi started eating grass and other herbaceous vegetation. At first we did not notice, being distracted by an incredibly handsome and soft 14-week old male Siberian husky puppy that was out for a walk with his owner. After we pulled ourselves away from Koda the husky we called Kodi away from his foraging.

Immediately he slunk off into the woods to vomit. He came out happier with tail up but kept licking his lips and every 100 yards or so showed signs of discomfort. We assumed he ate something not suitable for dogs. On the way home he moaned and thrashed a bit in his crate, very unlike him, but he showed no serious signs of distress.

After we got home we noticed a bunch of burs stuck in his fur. One batch we had to cut out with scissors, so tangled they were. We soon realized that he must have licked off and swallowed other burs stuck to his fur. Burdock burs with their hooked bristles can irritate mucous membranes inside the mouth and throat. For the next 24 hours all he wanted to do was eat grass, something that he does not normally do. We assume it was to help himself vomit. Vets seem uncertain why dogs eat grass, but in this case there seemed to be a clear cause and effect. Kodi was eating grass to relieve some measure of pain in his mouth or digestive system. His stomach gurgled a bit and he was restless.

Kodi looked sad for a day, but today he is completely back to normal and has weaned himself off grass. Now, if he can only avoid those pesky burs. An interesting note about burdock burs -- besides the fact that they have an incredibly effective dispersal mechanism by latching onto animals for a free ride -- is that they spawned the idea for Velcro. A Swiss inventor was supposedly walking with his dog when he looked closer at the burs stuck to his clothes and his dog's fur. So now I'm hoping that Kodi leads me to the next big invention.

Acorns Down Catkins Up

2011-12-05T16:19:00.001-05:00

Perhaps you've noticed all the gray squirrels. They seem to be everywhere, nearly one per tree. And they are fat, almost woodchuck-like in their girth. One often puts on weight when there is a readily accessible smorgasbord of food. Squirrels have had such an abundance this year, especially with the huge acorn crop last fall. The acorns kept them well fed through the winter and this year brought a healthy crop of seeds and berries. Six chunky gray squirrels visit our bird feeders daily, hanging around the base scooping up seeds tossed out by the chickadees, nuthatches, and titmice.

Little do the squirrels know that the coming year will require austerity measures. There is no acorn crop. A recent article in the New York Times noted that in an average year oak trees produce 25 to 30 pounds of acorns. Last year some oaks produced 250 pounds per tree; this year, barely one-half pound. Usually fallen acorns feel like marbles under foot when we walk down Bald Hill Road. This year you have to scratch around in the leaves to find an acorn. This does not bode well for the squirrels. But this is the way of nature. Acorn crops fluctuate from year to year as do squirrel, chipmunk, and mice populations that feed on the nuts. Hawks and owls and foxes that feed on the small mammals will be affected in turn.

So acorns are down, but look around for other animal foods. Check out the birches - they are loaded with catkins this fall.

The seeds of birches are great winter foods for our small songbirds, such as chickadees and nuthatches. Ruffed grouse also seek out birch catkins. Birch seeds are not a favorite food of squirrels, but once the austerity diet kicks in this winter and next spring and summer they might take what they can get.

Bark

2011-12-02T17:49:00.000-05:00

Now that most leaves have dropped from the deciduous trees -- the oaks, beeches, basswoods, birches, maples, hickories, and all the understory shrubs -- you can see deep into the forest and you can see tree trunks clearly. The various textures and colors of bark stand out, especially when lit by a late afternoon sun.

Look around at the various tree trunks. Better yet, get up close and feel the textures, although avoid hugging the ones oozing sticky sap. You will notice that tree trunks are more diverse than you thought. Bark textures include smooth, rough, scaly, shaggy, flaky, ridged, furrowed, or plated, among others. Some trees have thin bark others have thick bark.

Why so much diversity in tree bark? And did you know that trees carry on photosynthesis in their bark?

Michael Wojtech writes about bark in an article titled Getting to Know Bark in the latest issue of Northern Woodlands, a terrific magazine for anyone interested in plants, wildlife, woods, land stewardship, forestry, and so many other related topics. Michael points out the wonderful complexity of tree bark - or as he calls it "the multi-layered shell of a tree that can be detached from the wood." This layered shell includes a cork, cork cambium and cork skin which together are called the periderm, the outer part of the shell. The active phloem is next, the layer that transports food to all parts of the tree. The last layer before the wood is the vascular cambium, where cells divide and grow and produce the next ring of wood.

So back to photosynthesis. Michael notes that it occurs in the thin green cork skin, especially on new growth where sunlight can more easily penetrate the thin outer bark. Once the outer bark or cork layer gets too thick, photosynthesis ceases, except on new shoots and of course in the leaves. Scrape the outer bark of a sapling and you'll see the green cork skin.

Trees have different bark for specific reasons. The American beech has smooth, gray bark (unless damaged by beech bark disease), an adaptation that evolved in the tropics where beech originated. The smooth bark prevents epiphytic plants (lichens and mosses that grow on trees) which are common in the tropics from getting a foothold. Epiphytes in mass can weigh down and break or topple a tree.

Here in the north where winter temperatures fluctuate between day and night, freezing and thawing can damage cells in the tree. A tree with dark bark would absorb the intense winter sun, warming the cells which are then chilled at night. This would cause the equivalent of frost heaves on our road, except in trees the cells would burst and cause long term damage. Two of the most northern hardwoods - paper birch and quaking aspen - have light bark. This allows these trees to radiate, rather than absorb, the intense winter sunlight, preventing the freeze-thaw cycle. Other hardwoods that live in the north such as oaks have darker bark with ridges and furrows that help radiate heat soaked up by the winter sun, much like the fins of a radiator.

Softwoods of the north such as balsam fir and red spruce have dark bark, but they retain their needles year round which shades the bark. The resin in some tree bark helps repel insects. There are many more adaptations for trees to have different types of bark. Go out and get to know the tree bark in your neighborhood and think about why it is thick or thin, rough or smooth.

A Mild Month

2011-11-28T18:47:00.000-05:00

After the Halloween snowstorm of last month, we've had warm, mild weather. The nighttime temperatures have dipped below freezing a few times, but mostly it's been warm. Insects are still flying around. Beaver are still freely swimming in open water and chewing exposed tree trunks on land.

The cilantro in the garden is still lush and aromatic and tasty in pesto.

People are jogging and cycling and hiking in light clothing, some are in shorts. Everyone is smiling and thrilled with the warm weather. Thanksgiving weekend was pleasant to be outdoors. We made a fire pit in our yard and sat around a campfire in the evening, barely needing a coat. This all sounds and feels so wonderful. Yet something needles in the back of my mind. This is not really that good. It should not be this warm on the cusp of December in New England. I don't really want insects flying around right now - some of them are pesky and should be killed by cold temperatures by now. Next year we may see a surge in invasive plant and animal infestations that do well as the climate warms.

So, I worry some, while enjoying the foggy mornings, mild afternoons, and pleasant evenings. I just hope plants don't start budding too soon and the migrating songbirds keep heading southward.

Witches' Brooms

2011-11-21T05:28:00.000-05:00

Have you ever seen a thick bundle of twigs in a shrub or tree? These are "witches' brooms" -- the term apparently comes from the German word Hexenbesen, which means to bewitch (hex) a bundle of twigs (besom). The idea of a witch riding a bundle of twigs has waned, but the name remains, and maybe the idea too thanks to Halloween and Harry Potter.

Anyway, back to the bundle of twigs. Most any woody plant can form a witches broom, sometimes they are inconspicuous and sometimes obvious. I notice them a lot on wild highbush blueberry bushes.

Abnormal shoot growth results in this mass of twigs from a single point on the plant. The causes vary and include fungi, parasitic plants, insects, environmental stresses, and sometimes mutations. The broom on highbush blueberry is likely caused by a rust fungus, Pucciniastrum goeppertianum. Rust fungus have a secondary host, and in this case it is balsam fir. So, if you are trying to grow these two plants, best not to have them near each other.

Yet another fungus -- commonly known as yellow witches' broom -- infects balsam fir, with chickweed as the secondary host. Some witches' brooms are caused by mistletoes or dwarf mistletoes, parasitic plants that cause a similar reaction. You might see these in softwoods.

These are rather mysterious phenomenon, the causes are not always known for a given broom. A broom here or there on a plant will not kill it, so just another interesting part of nature's diversity.

Pitch Pine Point

2011-11-18T19:50:00.001-05:00

A brisk, beautiful, blue-sky day. The oaks dropped a lot of leaves today, whisked away by the wind. If you bundled up against the wind it was a great day to be outside. Having a dog helps. Kodi begs to be outside and it doesn't take much coaxing to get me to go for a jaunt somewhere away from my desk.

At one point today we ended up at Wagon Hill Farm, a nice conservation area on the shores of the Great Bay Estuary in Durham, New Hampshire. There are sweeping views of the Bay, stands of arching oaks, and large fields mowed late in summer to allow birds to nest and forage. Bluebirds chirp from a few remnant apple trees. We made our way to a narrow point that juts out into the Bay. Wave action and a bit of overuse by humans is causing this sandy point to erode away over time. Still, it is a favorite little spot, in part because of the pitch pines.

A dead pitch pine with live pines behind at "pitch pine point"

at Wagon Hill Farm, Durham, NH

Pitch pine (Pinus rigida) is a beautiful native pine (okay, another one of my favorite trees), that does well on sandy soils. The tree is well-adapted to fire: bark with thick plates and deep furrows, seeds that readily germinate in soils exposed to fire, and epicormic branching -- shoots grow from the bark (especially if the crown is killed by fire). Some of the squat, stiff cones are serotinous, remaining closed until the heat of a fire melts the glue that holds the cone scales tight.

Fire is now curtailed in most places within the pitch pine range in the eastern U.S., allowing other trees to encroach and eventually overtake pitch pine. Some of the best examples of pitch pine are in "pine barrens," in New Jersey, Long Island, and Cape Cod. Here in New Hampshire, the Ossipee Pine Barrens are managed (using prescribed fire) by The Nature Conservancy. A map and guide of the hiking trails at their reserve is available here. In addition to the pitch pines, these barrens harbor rare moths and butterflies and birds that are in decline including whip-poor-wills, common nighthawks, and rufous-sided towhees.

Elsewhere you might fine a pitch pine here and there. Look for them as you hike throughout New England and points south. Here are some more photos from the pitch pine at Wagon Hill.

The bark and the cones should tip you off that it is a pitch pine. Another key feature is the 3 needles per bundle. The other native pines that you commonly see in New Hampshire are the white pine (5 needles) and red pine (2 needles).

The thick bark is evident in this photo from a different day.

Pitch pine often takes on a bonsai appearance, another interesting trait of this beautiful tree.

Red-Panicled Dogwood

2011-11-16T19:17:00.000-05:00

Some days you long for something bright and beautiful in the woods, to flush away a gloomy mood or break the monotony of a gray day. Today was one of those drab, drippy days, nothing special going on, except for the drone of dreary news on the radio.

Here is what cast away any glum thoughts I had today - a bright and beautiful flower-fruit stalk of the red-panicled dogwood (Cornus racemosa). A panicle is essentially a multi-branched flower. Doesn't it just lift your spirits, with its bright red panicles?

The white fruits of this dogwood are loved by birds, so not a one is left on the shrub. Another name for this shrub is gray dogwood. Now you see why I prefer red-panicled! It is often found in moist soils in swamps, along streams, or in other wet places. Sometimes it does well in drier places too. It makes a nice yard shrub, but forms a thicket so give it space.

We have other common dogwoods in our woods and wetlands including silky and red-osier, but look for the red panicles and you'll know what you've got. And it will brighten your day.

A Leopold Bench

2011-11-15T08:59:00.000-05:00

It's been said that if you see a Leopold bench in someone's yard you know something about the people that live there. Aldo Leopold (1887 - 1948) helped launch the conservation movement in the 20th century through his inspiring work and writings. You can read an earlier blog that I posted on Leopold's Legacy last spring.

In 1935 Leopold bought an old farm along the Wisconsin River in Baraboo, Wisconsin; with his wife and five children he restored the prairie and woods to the overworked land. "The Shack" as the farm was known is where he pondered a "land ethic" and "land health." He built a simple, but elegant bench from four pieces of wood, a bench that he must have spent many hours on contemplating the relationships of people to each other and to the land.

I learned more about Leopold's bench from my friend Carl Wallman, who owns Graylag Cabins and Harmony Hill Farm, and is chair of the Northwood Area Land Management Collaborative (NALMC). Carl hosted a Leopold bench making workshop in October -- read and see highlights of the workshop here. I could not attend the workshop, but recently Carl showed me how to make one and provided me with sturdy 2-inch thick hemlock from his property.

Here are the results.

This bench went to my parents at their Winterberry Farm. They inspired me to be a conservationist and I wanted them to have my first Leopold bench.

Clearing Away a Halloween Storm

2011-11-12T19:02:00.004-05:00

We're at my parents this weekend, making a small dent in clean-up after the great Halloween Storm of 2011. Their farm and Amherst, Massachusetts in general, took a beating. Branches snapped off trees all around the house, along the road, in the backyard, along the field edges in the back forty.

With a chain saw, loppers, and a tractor we cut, trimmed, and hauled many loads of brush to a now huge brush pile at the edge of the woods. Tall pines lost limbs generating lots of material but the soft wood of pine cut like butter compared to the hard wood of hardwoods, such as sugar maple and red oak. The butternuts and catalpa also lost a few major limbs.

Photos of storm damage by Kyle Vincent

We cleared most of the fallen wood around the house after about 8 hours of work over two days. Our hands, arms, and shoulders are sore. My Dad takes it all in stride, happy to be driving his tractor and clearing brush at age 89.

Kodi was not so interested in all this work so we took him for our favorite walk up to Rattlesnake Knob. The trail passes through a beautiful oak - beech forest. We were concerned that the trees might have suffered in the storm. Most came through unscathed and looked as beautiful as ever.

The trees on the mountain mostly escaped damage from the storm. Perhaps these trees had already dropped most of their leaves or the temperature was slightly colder. The snow was probably heavier in the valley below.

We made some progress clearing fallen debris, but my Dad has many more days of work. If he can be outside on his tractor he doesn't mind the work.

Musclewood

2011-11-09T15:39:00.001-05:00

Another day spent partially in the great outdoors, where I encountered another favorite tree! There are so many. Today it is musclewood, also known as American hornbeam, ironwood, blue beech, or Carpinus caroliniana. I prefer the name musclewood given its bluish-gray, smooth, and sinewy bark; it looks like rippling muscles.

Most of the year I notice the musclewood because of its bark. It grows in moist, fertile soils such as in wooded floodplains or rich uplands, preferring partial shade. This small tree thrives in the understory, beneath the canopy of other trees.

This fall, though, I've really taken notice of its attractive spreading branches and broad crown and flower structure. Paired flowers turn into small nutlets that are tucked into a leaf-like bract. These bracts are clustered on a long hanging stalk. Wow, that is such a technical description for something that is so much more beautiful. Have a look. The first three photos were taken in late September, the fourth photo was taken today.

Some forestry fact sheets describe musclewood as a "weed," given its "small size and poor form." I beg to differ. This graceful tree with its lantern-like fruit clusters reminds me of a Japanese garden, of peace and tranquility. It is one of my favorite trees.

A Brown Snake

2011-11-08T13:53:00.001-05:00

My favorite snake was sunning itself in our driveway around midday. The small, docile northern brown snake (Storeria dekayi dekayi) is a common snake here. Unfortunately it is one that we often see flattened on the road when we walk with Kodi down Bald Hill Road. Today though, this one-foot long, slender brown snake was alive and well and living in our yard.

A basking snake is one indication that this is a warm November day; snakes should be hibernating by now or heading there soon. I nudged the snake toward the edge of the driveway so it was safely out of the way of vehicles. He (or she) was a little stubborn, perhaps wanting to stay on the warm pavement.

Note to self: another reason why we live here. Beautiful snakes live among us.

November Beauty

2011-11-06T16:55:00.000-05:00

Now and then we think seriously about selling our place and moving to town, where we could walk to the library, restaurants, and other amenities. We've just been through another such phase. We toured new apartments in the renovated Newmarket Mills along the Lamprey River in our downtown. The apartments were beautiful and a stone's throw from Main Street. Alas, they do not allow dogs and they are expensive.

Apparently rentals (at least places that you'd want to live in) are expensive most everywhere. The economics don't make sense, especially when we own our own place. So, we ponder the trade-offs. Living in town reduces, but doesn't eliminate, the need to drive. We could participate more fully in community events, given the walkable qualities of our downtown. But the outlay is just too high and there are other compromises.

This afternoon, after spending a beautiful November day walking dogs at the local animal shelter and cleaning up the yard in preparation for winter, we took Kodi for a walk in the neighborhood. Not far from our place is Bald Hill Road, a beautiful rural road bordered by stonewalls and mature trees with open fields beyond. Today we watched a flock of four bluebirds fly from tree to tree along the stonewall. A few crows chased a red-tailed hawk from the same trees, where a pileated woodpecker was also feeding.

This too is why our occasional thoughts about a move end the same way. It is just nice where we are. We hear coyotes and foxes at night, animals large and small live among us, and we can walk out our door to see the stars at night or to pick flowers or vegetables or peaches from our yard.

There is no perfect place to live. The goal I think is to be happy in the moment and make the most of wherever you live. It is a beautiful day in November here on our small piece of the planet.

White Oak

2011-11-03T09:26:00.001-04:00

One of my favorite trees is the white oak -- Quercus alba. Wildlife like it too. The "sweet" acorns have less tannin than many other oaks and are rich in fat. Animals need to wait longer than kids for their annual "acorn candy" as good crops come only every 4 to 10 years. White oak acorns have a bowl-shaped, shaggy cap. In the photo below, white oak acorns are on the left and red oak acorns are on the right.

White oak trees have shaggy, ashy-gray, sometimes "white" bark. It is the leaves in fall though, that make the tree stand out. The leaves turn a deep red, maroon or purple color. Their leaves seem softer with round lobes, compared to the robust, pointy-lobed leaves of red oak. I noticed that white oaks fared okay in the recent snowstorm, whereas the heavy leaves of the red oak laden with snow wreaked havoc all over.

A white oak tree in fall (November 2, 2011)

The fall colors, highlighted by the oaks, are still gorgeous. Squirrels and blue jays are busy caching acorns and other nuts. The cheek pouches of chipmunks are bulging with seeds. Flocks of small birds are passing through, fattening up on insects slowed by the cool temperatures as they head south. A gray squirrel is building a winter nest of red oak leaves at the top of a white pine at the edge of our yard. Lots of activity outside as animals prepare for winter. Take some time to stop and watch, it is fun to see them bustling about.

First Snow Thrills Kodi

2011-11-01T19:02:00.000-04:00

Halloween Storm 2011

2011-11-01T05:39:00.001-04:00

Tuesday morning, still no power. Saturday night, as heavy, wet snow fell, we heard a loud pop and then the lights went out. Given the weather forecast we were prepared, although it was still unexpected and more widespread then one could predict.

The oak trees were hardest hit by the heavy snow. They were still carrying all their leaves, this combined with the wet snow was too much even for healthy branches. Many, many roads in southeastern New Hampshire are lined with beautiful oak trees, although it was only a branch here or there that fell. The damage doesn't look that bad, and yet our utility company (PSNH) said it experienced the worst damage to its infrastructure in 140 years.

We have a generator that can run the whole house, a feature that we've used nearly three times a year as these major storms occur more frequently. We fire up the generator for a few hours in the morning and again in the evening for meals and showers and to warm the house and cool the fridge. One neighbor has run his generator continuously since Saturday night. Waking during the night we hear the loud drone of that generator. Another neighbor with three kids seems content with just a wood stove.

Halloween was canceled or postponed -- so lots of tricks and we have to eat all the treats.

Snow on the Pumpkins

2011-10-28T16:11:00.000-04:00

The first snow of the season fell last night. Big, heavy, wet flakes started coming down after dark as the temperature started to slide toward 32F. The temperature slipped a bit below the freezing mark overnight; our first frost, but it wasn't a hard frost.

The pumpkins await carving this weekend in advance of Halloween trick-or-treating, which in our town is Sunday evening - Halloween Eve.

Evans Notch Continued

2011-10-25T06:53:00.000-04:00

Here is part two of our weekend of hiking in Evans Notch.

For Saturday we chose a loop trail from our Cold River Camp cabin to Eagle Crag, which lies just north of North Baldface Mountain. The 0.7 miles to the first trail junction near the Emerald Pool was easy walking; by then we'd met several other hiking parties heading in the same general direction. At this juncture the hike to Eagle Crag required a water crossing, a crossing that looked a little tenuous so we changed our plans.

We opted instead to take the Baldface Circle Trail to South Baldface Mountain; this required no major river crossings but did have steep ledges up high. The sky above was gray, while the canopy just above our heads was lit up like a bonfire by beech and other hardwoods in their fall colors.

But alas, a long hike was not in the cards on Saturday. We reached only to the South Baldface shelter, just in time for lunch and just as it started to rain. Many other hikers arrived at the same time, the shelter got a little crowded. We chatted about trail conditions, the steep, upper ledges we were told were quite slick. We made one attempt at the ledges, but changed our plans and headed back the way we came. On the descent we took in the 1/2 mile loop to Chandler Gorge, a worthy side trip from the Baldface Circle Trail.

Despite the twists and turns in our hike on Saturday, the woods were beautiful and the hike as always was rejuvenating. The leaf-covered trail was dotted with fresh raindrops as we turned back toward camp.

Sunday dawned bright, as we observed from Little Deer and Deer Hill and as noted in my post yesterday. Despite a snafu in the morning schedule between us and our friends (Srini, Kodi, and I lingered too long soaking up the sunrise on the Deer Hills!), the four of us (plus Kodi) rallied in late morning for a second Sunday hike. We drove north on Route 113 to the height of land in Evans Notch, a stunning drive in late fall. Our destination -- not to be deterred this time -- was the 3,210-foot West Royce.

By the time we got underway on the East Royce Trail at 10:00 am, the sky had turned a steel gray. No wind stirred, not the slightest breeze. The hike from the parking lot to the top of West Royce was a steady, steep climb from the start. The trail crossed several small streams with cascading falls and climbed through a beech and birch forest.

As we climbed above 2,000 feet in elevation, the trail entered a beautiful spruce forest with lots of little spruces coming up, a soft bed of fallen needles on the trail, and moss and lichens covering large boulders.

Around 2,600 feet a spur trail led to the right up to the peak of East Royce Mountain. We skipped this side trip, continuing on instead to West Royce. The next one mile or so was relatively flat, even dipping down a bit into a mossy, muddy, moosey kind of place. We saw a nice set of fresh moose tracks in the trail. An AMC trail crew did some amazing recent work on the trail, cutting, sawing and placing bog bridges through a wet, muddy stretch that must have taken a beating from Hurricane Irene.

The Royce Trail passed through a hobblebush clearing - the short shrubs were browsed heavily by moose -- before reaching the juncture with the Burnt Mill Brook Trail. This latter trail descends into the Wild River drainage - a wild looking trail if ever there was one. The birch growing in this strange spot were gnarly, the rocks were covered in ferns and moss, and the trail was one long mud hole with small, unruly boulders for stepping stones. It had a Middle Earth sort of feel to it.

Moose-browsed hobblebush and gnarly birch on the Royce Trail
between West Royce and East Royce

A crooked sign pointed the way down into the wilds of the Wild River drainage

From here were started up the final 0.7 miles to the top of West Royce. The narrow path snaked its way up through a dark and dense and moist and mossy spruce-fir forest. I brought up the rear, stopping to chat with two friendly boreal chickadees.

The views from the top of West Royce were not spectacular, though the climb to get there was intriguing. We stopped on one of the ledges for lunch, gazing down on Route 113 nestled in the hardwoods below. The gray skies seemed darker, the temperature decidedly cooler.

Clothed in our fleece jackets, hats, and gloves we began our descent, leaving behind the fir and spruce atop the Baldface Royce Range.

Evans Notch

2011-10-24T12:52:00.015-04:00

Route 113 winds its way up through Evans Notch on the eastern side of the White Mountain National Forest. The windy, scenic road begins in the broad floodplain of the Saco River in Fryeburg, Maine. By the time you reach the Notch you've crossed back and forth between Maine and New Hampshire a few times. We spent the weekend hiking this region, staying at the Appalachian Mountain Club's Cold River Camp. The Camp is bustling with visitors and staff in summer, but in the off-season only one cabin is available for overnight stays. Our friends Dale and Lisa snagged a 2-night booking for the four us, a terrific "base camp" for two days of nearby hiking.

The weekend weather was not terribly cooperative, yet we squeezed in some superb hiking on woodland trails cloaked in golden yellow leaves and through spruce forests draped in moss. Our destinations took us to some fabulous views. My motto though was to not miss the forest for the views. The woods and rocks and waterfalls were just as inspiring as the views.

One of the sweetest hikes was a Sunday morning sunrise hike to the diminutive Little Deer Hill and Deer Hill in Maine. We reached these 1,000-footers from our cabin at Cold River. A camp trail leads down to the river then crosses to the other side via a dam built in the 1960s. This same spot can be reached from the Baldface Circle parking lot taking the Deer Hill Connector. We actually hiked to Little Deer twice - Friday night just at sunset and then again Sunday morning. Kodi made the crossing fine on Friday, but needed a lift across the middle part on Sunday.

Just after you cross the Cold River you reach the state line.

The hike to the Deer Hills was a 3.5 to 4 mile hike up and down and around wooded slopes with some ledges near the top. We reached the top of Little Deer Hill after a 30 minute hike from the cabin - just at sunrise. the Baldface Royce Range to our west was bathed in morning light. The valley below was cloaked in morning fog. South Baldface stands out with its broad, bald face.

Kodi sat on Little Deer Hill taking in the sunrise.

As the fog began to lift in the valley below, we headed to Deer Hill.

The 0.7 mile trail over to Deer Hill is first down then back up. The top of Deer Hill (1,327') is wooded with little view. Continuing on the Deer Hills Trail another 100 feet leads to a lower ledge and a fabulous view. We sat looking east absorbing the warmth of the morning sun as it rose over Palmer and Adams Mountains. The entire length of Kezar Lake was hidden by fog.

The Chatham Trails Association maintains 40 miles of trails in this region. From our experience on this little hike they do excellent work, keeping trails open and maintaining nice trail signs. Thank you CTA.

The oak forest on the east and south slopes of Deer Hill is beautiful, the red and black oaks tall and stately and gorgeous in their fall colors. The understory of golden yellow beech leaves lit up the forest, something we experienced all weekend.

Our loop hike brought us back to Little Deer Hill, before we descended back to camp. By this time of the morning the fog had cleared and the Baldface Royce Range looked bright and welcoming. The bluish sky promised a good day of hiking, but alas the clouds returned. More tomorrow on our weekend of hiking, including our Saturday attempt at Eagle Crag and a second hike on Sunday to West Royce.

Until then, here is the Baldface Royce Range again on Sunday morning before we descended to camp. Sometimes the smallest hills give you the best views.

South Baldface Mtn and North Baldface Mtn from Little Deer Hill

Mt. Meader from Little Deer Hill

The Basin from Little Deer Hill.

Peeling Potatoes

2011-10-20T17:03:00.001-04:00

Sitting on the front stoop peeling potatoes on a Thursday afternoon in mid-October. The clouds are shifting and blue sky is emerging. The air is still damp after two days of rain. Kodi sniffs the air.

Kodi likes to be outside so I am outside too, to keep an eye on him. He likes to wander. The fresh breeze feels nice on my face. A pair of pileated woodpeckers works the top of a dead black cherry nearby. They don't seem to mind us so close. They are having a meal, while I prepare a meal for later.

The hazelnut bush in our yard to my right is in full fall color. A few peepers call from trees in the backyard. I wonder why they peep now, not a chorus from the wetland as during breeding season in spring, but soft isolated peeping. I look at the vegetable garden and wonder about the painted turtle eggs that were laid back in June. The hatchlings have yet to emerge; sometimes they overwinter in their nest. That seems like a long time to wait.

Kodi is on the move, he caught a whiff of something. No doubt he's headed to the woods in the back, where wild animals wander at night. Perhaps he smells the fox that calls from the woods many nights or the pack of 3 or more coyotes that howled and yipped all night long two nights ago. I assume it is a fellow canine that intrigues him or unnerves him or just makes him curious.

The potatoes are peeled and the woodpeckers have moved off to another tree, I hear one call to the other. Kodi, quiet as a mouse, is nosing about a tree stump in the woods. I call him in for his dinner. The potatoes await my next move.

Fall Turns A Corner

2011-10-19T14:53:00.001-04:00

Today feels like the transition to late fall from early fall. Still no frost (amazingly), but the weather has turned a corner I think. Today is gray and rainy and many leaves are falling from the trees. There is an inkling of cooler temperatures to come.

As Kodi and I took our morning walkabout, I noticed more hardwood trees empty of all leaves. Although the leaves have dropped, the beauty of the bare tree -- twigs and branches and limbs and trunk -- is fully exposed. I can see the shape of the tree better. And I can see farther into and through the woods. So although the skies grow gray and the days shorten, there is a lightness in the forest as trees release a season's worth of leaves back to the soil.

Another fall ritual that I noted today is the drawdown of lakes and some rivers for the winter, to allow room for spring floods to fill the water levels back up. Perhaps the river that Kodi and I walked along today was for another purpose. Regardless, the gray, gooey stream bottom was now exposed, adding to the grayness of the day.

Kodi checked out the new shoreline. I'm sure the soft mud felt different between his toes as he raced back to the trail and twirled around a few times. He is carefree in all seasons; gray sky, blue sky, wind, rain, sun, snow makes little difference to Kodi as long as he is out in the elements. Watching Kodi frolic in all types of weather, makes me happy to be out and about too, gray days and all.

A Management Challenge

2011-10-18T06:41:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I spent a lot of time surrounded by tall, scraggly, dense shrubs. I was mapping trails and habitats on a large, flat, wet property. Past land uses have taken a toll on the site. Woods roads and trails were used and abused by off-road vehicles of all sorts. The exceedingly flat topography, unusual amount of rain this year, and the severe erosion has created a drainage nightmare.

This is supposed to be a walking trail.

The land was conserved this year and I am writing a stewardship plan to guide management and public uses. The first task is to figure out the re-arranged hydrology and drainage and block the continued illegal use of trails by off-road vehicles. I found four sofas dumped at various places, dozens of tires tossed here and there, a few mattresses, and miscellaneous trash.

I tried walking the trails wearing my knee high rubber boots. The water in many places was at least a foot deep and in some places over my boots. This forced me off trail into the woods and shrub thickets. I crouched and crawled and groaned my way through the dense undergrowth. Generally I would appreciate the shrubs surrounding me - highbush blueberry, winterberry, witchhazel, sweet pepperbush, mountain holly. But, after 7 hours I was spent.

The good news for the day was the weather - a beautiful blue sky, light breeze, and moderate temperature. By late afternoon the setting sun was brilliant among the overhead shrubs and trees, highlighting the yellows, reds, and browns of changing leaves. As I waded down the last trail back toward the car I was enchanted by the fallen sassafras leaves floating in the water. This small tree has leaves with three shapes: entire (no lobes), mitten-shaped, and three-lobed. Mostly I saw the three-lobed type.

The floating sassafras leaves distracted me for a time from thinking about the management options on this property. The watery trail though forced me back to considering the challenges ahead. As with many such management challenges, it involves correcting mistakes and misuse by humans.

One other bright spot for the day was walking into a fen (a type of peatland) on the property. This natural community was wet, it was supposed to be.

Black Birch

2011-10-15T07:48:00.003-04:00

The birches are understated in their yellow fall colors, amidst the generally brilliant reds and oranges of the maples. This year, however, I am taking more notice of the birches as the sugar maples have succumbed to fungal diseases from wet weather in spring and again in fall. All the birches that grow here -- yellow, black, gray, and paper -- turn a soft shade of yellow.

Black birch (Betula lenta) is more common in our woods than you might expect, especially here in southern New Hampshire and parts south. It seems to grow most abundantly on moist, protected northerly or easterly slopes, although it appears on dry, rocky sites too. I see it growing commonly among red oak and white pine. Last week Kodi and I hiked along a local trail, where the black birch saplings were lit up by the midday sun.

Up close the egg-shaped black birch leaves are distinct with sharply toothed edges and a heart-shaped base.

Crush the leaves or break a branch or chew on a twig and a wonderful wintergreen aroma wafts up. The oil of wintergreen is found in the inner bark -- once the only source of wintergreen oil, which is now made synthetically. The wintergreen aroma and taste is the reason it is known by another name: sweet birch.

The bark of the tree is distinct when the tree is young -- relatively smooth, dark gray, with horizontal lenticels. As the tree matures it takes on a much rougher look. Here is the trunk of a young black birch.

The cones bear tiny winged seeds that disperse by wind in the fall.

Black birch being at the northern edge of its range in these parts, seems to have adapted well to past changes and may do well as the climate changes. Black birch has filled in some of the "holes" in the forest that American chestnut once filled before it was decimated by the chestnut blight. Where gypsy moths have knocked back oaks and where hemlock woolly adelgid has killed hemlocks, black birch has moved in.

With its attractive fall colors, sweet wintergreen aroma, strong wood - it takes on a dark shade similar to mahogany, and adaptability, black birch is quite a tree.

Our Country

2011-10-12T17:45:00.000-04:00

I rarely delve into politics on this blog. Last February I made an exception and recognized the courage of the Egyptian people to take back their country. Their struggle continues as the powerful try to re-take control of people's lives in that country.

Today seems appropriate for another diversion into politics or perhaps it is just life. Today I celebrate the courage, enthusiasm, and creativity of the Occupy Wall Street crowds springing up around the country. This morning on NPR we learned that the D.C. group is forming a winterizing committee (as they intend to stay as the weather turns cold). How great is that!

I recall that most everyone celebrated the Egyptian people when they took to the streets for peaceful protests. Yet, when Americans do it here, they are quickly condemned. Sounds like the powerful here are a little scared of the people. They should be. Things aren't working, and mostly because of bad decisions by decision-makers over the past 30 years.

My friend Carl has re-connected me with the wise words of Aldo Leopold, a conservationist, forester, author, and more, who died too young way back in 1948. Leopold wrote that "there were two things that interested me: the relationship of people to each other and the relationship of people to the land." To me this is what the protests are about -- how "we" treat each other and how "we" care about the land. As a country, we seem to be failing on both fronts. Leopold must have had a positive outlook on life as he lived and worked during an equally difficult time. With Leopold's wisdom in hand, I will remain optimistic as I pursue my own path connecting people to the land.

North Moat and The Red Ridge

2011-10-08T18:24:00.004-04:00

We packed our hiking gear yesterday morning when the temperature was near freezing, but we packed relatively lightly for an early October day hike in the White Mountains, as the weather forecast was for clear skies and mild temperatures. The day did not disappoint.

We set off on our 10-mile hike at 9:30 from West Side Road near the Bartlett/Conway town lines at the parking lot for Diana's Baths. Only one other group -- a man and his grandson -- was on the trail. We set off at a brisk pace, stopping briefly at Diana's Baths to admire the falls and pools.

Our route took us along the Moat Mountain Trail, past Diana's Baths and Lucy's Brook, 4.2 miles to the top of the 3,196-foot North Moat. The first 2.3 miles of Moat Mountain Trail are a gradual climb that gives you a chance to work the kinks out of your hiking legs. After about a mile we crossed Lucy's Brook by stepping on stones; the water level low enough to keep our boots dry. Just below the junction with the Attitash Trail we nearly ran into a small black bear. Kodi was ahead and the bear quickly shinnied up a nearby tree. He was small - about the size of our 50 pound Kodi. We didn't see a mother bear but didn't want to linger in case she was nearby. The bear looked at us curiously and started backing down the tree, perhaps wondering if Kodi was a fellow bear cub.

At 2.3 miles the trail turns south (Attitash Trail continues west over to Bear Notch Road) and begins to climb more steeply, passing through a hemlock-red pine-spruce forest.

By this time the air had warmed to the 40s and with the steeper climb we shed our hat, gloves, and fleece jacket. And Kodi was looking back wondering why the slower pace.

As we climbed we started to look back through the trees, catching views to the north. Our first great view was of Carter Notch off in the distance.

Then we reached a large exposed slab, a perfect place for a snack before the final assault on the summit.

Just beyond this point we met a man named Glen descending. We heard him first as he was wearing a bear bell. After we told him about the bear cub he gave us the bell, saying he had more in his car. We used it on Kodi for awhile, but it was a little too noisy for me. I like the quiet solitude of the mountain air, listening to the soft chips of little birds and the whisper of the wind in the trees. Still, it was a nice gift and we will use it when in thick bear territory.

We reached the summit of North Moat about 12:30, hungry for our sandwiches. For a few minutes we had the peak, with its 360 degree views, all to ourselves. One couple joined us; they sat quietly enjoying the views too. We needed our fleece, hats, and gloves just to be comfortable. The views were great......

Mt. Washington and the other high summits in the distance.

In another direction Crawford Notch

The mix of dark green softwoods and brilliant hardwoods

offered beautiful contrasts on the slopes.

And a look south to Middle Moat - the bald one in the distance.

We began our descent about 1:15, continuing south on the Moat Mountain Trail for 1.1 miles to the junction with the Red Ridge Trail. This leg drops steeply through a series of wooded ledges; the trail followed along the base of one such massive ledge.

This leg of the trail is also very narrow, with some logs across the path and small spruce saplings and hardwood shrubs overtaking the trail a bit. It could use some brush back. It got us thinking that we really should adopt a trail.

We reached the trail juncture and took one more look back at North Moat with Mt. Washington still visible off its right shoulder in the far distance.

As it names suggests, the Red Ridge Trail follows a ridge, mostly bare and exposed. All of the Moats and much of the ridge are bare, apparently from fires some time ago. The red perhaps is from the color of the rock, but others might correct me there. The rock was more pinkish than red.

The exposed ridge offered great views all the way down and tucked into pockets among the rocks were alpine plants that had turned shades of red and purple.

Below treeline a small wetland was full of cotton-grass, a beautiful sedge that forms cottony heads.

The Moats are also known for the red pine that grows on the drier slopes. It has scaly red bark and often has interesting form.

The trail crosses Moat Brook -- more stone stepping -- and then follows the shoreline before turning and crossing an active Forest Service Road. The rest of the trail is a bit of a slog back to Moat Mountain Trail, although it passes through a beautiful northern hardwood forest with huge yellow birch and white ash. This section of trail was also quite wet and muddy. We reached the car just before 5:00, about 7 1/2 hours after our start.

This was our first time on these trails and we loved it. The 10-mile loop was strenuous but I don't think it was difficult. The bear was a treat and the trails pass through a wonderful diversity of plant communities. It could use a little care in terms of blazes and trail clearing.

Just before reaching Diana's Baths on the return we stopped to admire a tree covered in mushrooms. It was dark in the hemlock woods along the brook but still bright when we emerged into the parking lot after a fine day of hiking.

Sphagnum Moss in its Glory

2011-10-02T19:28:00.001-04:00

The brightest fall color that we saw yesterday while hiking Crawford Path was the sphagnum moss. The Notch was cloaked in rain clouds and fog so the fall foliage, which looked brilliant on the lower slopes, was completely obscured. Heavy rain overnight and a steady light drizzle on Saturday made for a wet and muddy hike to Mizpah Hut. We hiked in full rain gear while some people we passed were in shorts and t-shirts. It was one of those weird weather days - far too warm (in the high 50s) for October 1st.

Every river, stream, gully, and hollow was full of water. The last leg of the trail to the hut was especially wet, the surrounding spruce-fir woods lush with a carpet of sphagnum moss that seemed to grow taller as we passed, soaking up moisture as fast as it could.

We knew this was a popular route, but we were surprised by the number of hikers given the rather lousy weather. There were several groups of hikers from Quebec. A group of parents with their 6-8 year old daughters and sons that whooped and hollered when they reached the hut, drenched from head to toe. One boy was carrying a muddy shoe that got sucked off his foot when he stepped in a muddy spot along the trail. Fortunately it happened only a short distance from the hut. Another group of teenage boys with their leaders happily plodded up and then down the same way we did. Despite the rain and lack of views, everyone was in good spirits. Kodi was only unhappy when he couldn't go in the hut to see and smell what was inside. Especially when we went in to dry off and devour the leftover buckwheat pancakes offered up by the hut cook.

One always hopes for blue sky and no rain for such a hike. But sometimes wacky weather makes for a more memorable hike. We will remember this wet day on Crawford Path.

Morning Dew

2011-09-27T16:10:00.002-04:00

Yesterday morning I took Kodi for a walk to a nearby conservation area that has a trail through a field full of wildflowers. The grasses and flowers were covered in morning dew. Kodi sniffed the air, not liking the strong smell of coyote, I assume, that he sensed. While he wavered, I wandered around admiring the delicate spider webs covered in dew and lit by the rising sun.

This one I think is a marbled orbweaver (Araneus marmoreus) and a female given its large size (her body is about the size of my thumbnail). She has woven her web between several common milkweed plants. She too was covered in dew.

And here, I think, are a couple banded garden spiders (Argiope trifasciata).

Here are a couple non-orbweavers, although which spider lives here I do not know.

A field covered in morning dew is a great place and time to see spiders, such cool creatures that they are. Kodi was uninterested in the spider webs and less keen on the general feel of the place this morning, so we lingered only long enough for me to check out a few of these spiders.

The Doubleheads Then Table Mountain

2011-09-26T20:54:00.005-04:00

Despite a not-so-promising weather forecast we headed north to our friend's cabin off Bear Notch Road near The Kanc for the weekend. Since our hiking legs had rested for a few months we opted for relatively short trails that promised excellent views. On Saturday we drove to Jackson, up Black Mountain Road and then Dundee Road to the small parking lot for the Doubleheads. Here is a view of North and South Doublehead from Black Mountain Road on our way out, after the valley fog had cleared.

The Doubleheads are around 3,000 feet in elevation; a set of peaks that we had never climbed so we weren't sure of the trails. We arrived late morning to an empty parking lot and set off on the Ski Trail - a wide swath that winds its way to the top of North Doublehead after 1.8 miles. We entered fog near the summit, which offered a welcome coolness after a steady climb through warm, humid air. Old man's beard lichen hung from the trees.

We reached the summit (3,053 feet) just in time for a quiet lunch beneath a patch of sun. A couple large rocks provided a nice bench, next to the renovated cabin first built in 1932.

We pushed on through fog to South Doublehead (2,939'). With limited views we quickly began the roughly 1.2 mile descent down New Path. This route back to Dundee Road was steep with loose rock in places. Although views were non-existent atop both peaks, the limited visibility lent a quiet, remote feeling to our hike, especially since we passed only one party -- 4 people and 4 dogs -- as we were nearing the end. We finished the loop after a 1/2 mile hike along Dundee Road back to the parking lot, which was now full (6 cars). This is not a hike that we will hurry back to as the trails and the surrounding forest were not all that interesting, except near the summit. Better views might have altered our opinion.

Sunday dawned brighter and more promising. For this day we chose another new hike - a 3.8 mile round trip hike to Table Mountain off Bear Notch Road.

This turned out to be a leisurely climb along Louisville Brook and through an older northern hardwood forest with big yellow birch and sugar maple. Mushrooms had sprouted on the forest floor and on the trunks of any dead or dying tree. The hobblebush leaves had turned shades of purple, red, and yellow. Clusters of red mountain ash berries stole some of the fall color show.

The trail opens out onto several ledges that offer great views to the south and west. Red maples seemed particularly bright in their fall colors among the dark green of fir and spruce on the upper slopes.

The trail doesn't quite go to the tippy-top of Table Mountain; a young stand of birch, fir, and spruce impede the way. Instead the trail (known as the Attitash Trail) continues on to Big Attitash Mountain. As the book says, this trail is heavily traveled by moose. We saw piles of droppings beneath balsam fir saplings, the preferred winter food of moose.

This hike is well worth another future visit. The views are terrific from the exposed ledges and the woods are beautiful. John over at 1happyhiker has a nice post from June of a loop hike that he did to Table Mountain, which included a bushwhack. He has nice photos and commentary about that option. We returned to the small parking lot off Bear Notch Road the same way we came; Kodi our canine hiking companion was anxious for another dip back in Louisville Brook. We finished this leisurely hike in about 3 hours, just in time for lunch back at the cabin before heading home.

Snake Eats Frog

2011-09-21T19:25:00.003-04:00

If you are a little squeamish with the natural order of things, such as something eating something else, you might want to skip this one.

I switched up a field day from Friday to today given the rain predictions for week's end and a glorious day today. I drove north on Route 16 to Effingham; Mt. Chorcorua's rugged top was crystal clear while fog hung in the valleys. Red maples have turned red along the Ossipee River. I stepped out of the car to a surprisingly warm sun. Mosquitoes were out but not in force and not too pesky.

I set off into the woods gathering information about habitats and property boundaries. Part of preparing a wildlife habitat stewardship plan for a landowner. Seeing and hearing signs of wildlife is actually a bonus for my work. I take note of what creatures I encounter to reinforce my maps and notes about the habitats. Today I walked a woodland trail that the landowner calls "Moose Highway." It is rightly named as I saw fresh moose tracks in the soft mud along a stretch of this trail. There were smaller deer tracks too. And a spectacularly clear set of black bear tracks in the mud. All of these big mammals must have passed through just hours before me. After these sightings I made a little more noise as I walked, just in case they were still nearby. No need to startle a big animal.

When I walked back on this trail to a main woods road I stopped to listen to a soft, but piercing cry. It was nearby, and low, close to or on the ground. I waited and heard the sound again, but saw nothing. I peered under a small tree and heard a slight rustle and then I saw it. Click to enlarge the photo below and you will see what I saw.

A wood frog was half inside the mouth of a garter snake. Neither was moving much. It is a slow (painful for the frog I assume) process as the snake inches the frog backwards into its mouth. The wood frog (note its black mask below the eye and light brown body) emits a piercing cry supposedly to startle a predator into releasing it. Not sure how often that strategy works. This snake wasn't about to release this frog.

I didn't stay long to watch this predator-prey interaction unfold. The snake must eat and so goes life in the wild. And I had more habitats to map.

A Yellow Bear

2011-09-18T19:33:00.000-04:00

Today was a day to be outdoors. One of those superb fall days that started slow with clouds and dampness -- but rallied by afternoon into a blue sky day. I watched a yellow bear crawl across our retaining wall. Can you tell which way it is going?

This is a small yellow bear, barely two inches long with long hairs that hide its legs and mouth. It is more formally known as a Virginian tiger moth (Spilosoma virginica). It is common, perhaps even more common that its better known cousin, the woolly bear. So which way is it going? To the right.

Cabbage butterflies are also about in the yard on these early fall days. I took note of them earlier in summer when the caterpillar stage was chewing away on our cabbages. I wasn't too fond of them then, but I like the butterflies with their pure white wings and black spots. They kept alighting on the kale, striking a nice pose.

As the days grow shorter and the sun rises lower in the sky, I absorb as much daylight as possible. The insects will soon be gone or hibernating as pupa, so even the pesky ones I take delight in seeing on these waning days of summer. The nasturtium and morning glory days are numbered too, but they carry on in their brilliance until the first frost. The morning glory flowers were 40 in number today!

A Fall Morning Full of Color

2011-09-17T13:29:00.001-04:00

A hat, pair of gloves, and fleece jacket. We needed these for our walk this morning; the thermometer read 39 F. Not cold enough for a frost, but we could see our breath and watched mist rising off a nearby wetland. I love these fall mornings.

Late blooming asters, goldenrods, and other wildflowers seem so vibrant following nights of cool temperatures. Wild shrubs too are laden with richly-colored fruits. My favorite, the winterberry holly (Ilex verticillata), is especially brilliant now.

Perched at the edge of wetlands or other wet places, winterberry is always a cheery sight in fall. It is the female shrubs that are covered in red berries. Winterberry is dioecious, meaning male and female flowers are borne on separate plants. They hold their fruits after the leaves fall, making their small, round, red fruits even more conspicuous for birds and small mammals that like to eat them. Apparently they are poisonous to humans.

One fall sight that may disappoint this year are the sugar maples. At least in our area. We've noticed that the sugar maple foliage along our roads looks curled and dry and spotted. I just read that it is suffering from two fungal infections, resulting from the heavy spring rains -- black tar spot and anthracnose. Not to worry though, as there is always plenty of color, among the flowers, the shrubs, and the trees. Even the mushrooms this year are a riot of color on the forest floor.

Rattlesnake Plantain

2011-09-13T18:41:00.001-04:00

On my wanderings with Kodi today, I came upon one of my favorite woodland plants -- downy rattlesnake plantain (Goodyera pubescens). This plant is apparently fairly common in our oak-pine woodlands, although you don't see it very often.The flower spike is nondescript once flowering is past; however, the basal rosette of evergreen leaves with their white stripe down the middle and network of thin white veins are what catch your eye.

This plant is so named for a few reasons.The shape of the leaves slightly resemble the common plantain in your lawn. And the white vein pattern looks a bit like a shed snake skin. Regardless, it is not a plantain at all but an orchid. There are other less common rattlesnake plantains around. The downy rattlesnake plantain is distinct with its broad white strip down the center of the leaf and its densely packed flower spike that is symmetrical on the stalk (not one-sided or spiral). Keep an eye out for the common the not so common rattlesnake plantains when walking through an oak woodland.

Black Trumpets and Flying Squirrels

2011-09-11T19:21:00.001-04:00

The coyotes howled from the Mitchell field before dawn this morning. Yesterday it was the raspy call of a fox that caught my ear as I lay in bed. Cold air wafted in our bedroom windows this morning; the thermometer read 48F at 6:00 am. A pair of pileated woodpeckers called from the top of a dead tree over our heads as we walked with Kodi up Bald Hill Road at sunrise. The sun's rays streamed through the fog rising off the wetland. This was a bluebird day in New England - blue sky, no wind, temperature in the 70s, a hint of fall color in the trees.

We spent the day canning tomatoes and peaches and making a big dutch apple pie. Processing your own food is a lot of work, but it feels good as we enter fall, with the garden fading, and winter really not that far away. A bit of summer in the cupboard will taste delicious come February.

Yesterday Kodi and I enjoyed a leisurely walk in the woods, taking a break from what has seemed like a much too busy August and September so far. The hemlock-oak-beech-pine woodland where we walked was full of interesting sights and sounds. I heard a peeper and a pewee, saw a small toad and scads of mushrooms. I found, unexpectedly, my first black trumpets. These wild mushrooms are apparently quite tasty and with no poisonous lookalikes are safe for eating.

Since this group of trumpets was small and along the trail I did not gather them. They were growing not far from a small stream, near a large moss-covered boulder.

Farther along the trail Kodi sniffed at something just off-trail among the leaf litter. I rushed over thinking he was teasing a frog, but to my surprise it was a baby flying squirrel. Its eyes were barely open, its head and eyes large compared to the rest of the body, it cried and squirmed. This young squirrel fell or was pushed out of its nest cavity much too soon. I saw no evidence of a cavity overhead, nor saw any evidence of a predator that might be on the prowl for the baby squirrel. Kodi and I left it behind.

Later, when we retraced our steps along the same stretch of trail, Kodi again tried to grab something off-trail. He had found a second baby flying squirrel. There is not much one can do in such situations. I had no nest to put them back into. And taking them home to raise was not a good option. I left them to their fate, despite their incredibly cute and helpless nature. Here is one of the small flying squirrels. It is still alive, but I can't say I was optimistic about its future.

There is so much to see and hear and smell this time of year. One must take time in between harvesting and preserving food, among other routine work and play, to spend time just wandering in the woods. I've missed these walkabouts and intend to resume more regular treks in the woods with Kodi. He helps me find such interesting things, even things that make me stop and ponder what to do, as with the baby flying squirrels.

Rain Induced Events

2011-09-06T16:43:00.002-04:00

We fared okay in the recent spate of storms, including Hurricane-Tropical Storm Irene. We lost power only for 26 hours or so and the total rain was less than four inches. I have noticed a few happenings that resulted from all the rain due to Irene and other more minor storms since.

Just yesterday I checked our shiitake log crib and there on the back side was a flush of mushrooms, some ready for picking. Tonights menu is a shiitake-corn frittata (the corn and eggs are from local farms) with garlic green beans (from our own garden). Maybe a garden fresh sliced tomato on the side.

What made me check the shiitake logs was all the fungi I've seen in the woods lately. Red, white, yellow and other colorful mushrooms are pushing up through the forest soil all over. Last week some farmer friends mentioned their recent success with wild mushroom foraging, specifically black trumpets and chanterelles. I'll have to scout for those.

One casualty of the storm in our yard was the old peach tree. It was already weighted down heavily by fruit that ripen in mid-September. We should have propped its old, tired limbs. Two large limbs snapped and now lie partly on the ground. Our second mistake was not thinning the fruits more heavily. Many are touching each other which is probably causing the brown rot now forming on some of the peaches.

As recommended we are removing the infected fruits in hopes that the others will be spared. There are still many beautiful, but still hard, peaches on the tree.

So much happens in the garden in August and September that I've been preoccupied and hence had little time to blog. As the garden season slows my blogging should pick up again. In the meantime, I have some shiitakes to saute.

A Quiet NYC

2011-08-28T07:58:00.001-04:00

Earlier in August we postponed a 3-day trip to New Jersey/New York City when the temperatures soared above 100 degrees. That trip was re-scheduled for this weekend.....so much for waiting for better weather.

We set off Friday morning at 10:00 with the thought that we'd sneak in a visit and scurry back ahead of Hurricane Irene. Friday - just 2 days ago -- was beautiful here. By the time we reached the NYC area the skies were gray, the temperature was near 90. We opted for the Tappan Zee Bridge rather than the George Washington Bridge since parts of NYC were already being evacuated. Traffic slowed just a bit as we crossed the bridge, but we made good time and picked up the pace as we headed south on the Garden State Parkway. Northbound the traffic was bumper to bumper for miles and miles.

After a quick visit with relatives in Piscataway, New Jersey, where the the traffic was congested as is typical, hurricane or not, we headed back north to Guttenberg, NJ. Guttenberg is a tiny 4-block wide community west of the Hudson River. It was once a farm, now it is the most densely populated incorporated place in the country.

Midtown Manhattan as viewed from the west side of the Hudson River

just south of Guttenberg,NJ. The bright lights of 42nd Street

are seen in the center of the photo.

The colorful Empire State Building is to the right.

As we turned in for the night we were not yet sure of our plans for Saturday, except that we were heading back to New Hampshire ahead of the oncoming storm. Saturday morning was calm. Srini and I walked down the block to a corner store for coffee. The wall-to-wall television coverage of the hurricane suggested we had just enough time to zip into NYC for a few hours of sightseeing. A 20-minute and $2.50 bus ride from Guttenberg dropped us at the Port Authority in midtown Manhattan. We emerged onto streets full of cabs, but strangely void of people.

We joined a handful of people in Times Square. Quite possibly the fewest number of people ever to gather here in the history of the City. We took a quick cab ride to Rockefeller Center. Here city workers were gently lifting out palm trees from giant planters, laying them on their side, where the trees will rest until Irene passes by.

Palm trees being removed from planters at Rockefeller Center

No one at the GE Building, the centerpiece of Rockfeller Center,

where NBC broadcasts many shows.

The observation deck at the top is open 365 days a year, except today.

Most of the stores were already closed in anticipation of the storm. The subways were closing at noon. We took another quick cab ride to Central Park, just for a peak. A few tourists were still taking rides on the horse-drawn carriages. The Port Authority was mostly empty. We hopped a bus back to Guttenberg. New York City in 2 hours and under $20 - it can be done, but only in the event of a hurricane.

Thirteen Morning Glories

2011-08-24T11:07:00.000-04:00

Morning glories are morning flowers, perhaps that is why I like them so. I like mornings. We planted Heavenly Blues this year at the base of the deck with a six foot trellis for climbing. The plants have climbed higher and higher all summer, all the way to the top of the deck and they keep on stretching toward the sun. The deck stair railing is now lined with their vines and heart-shaped leaves and today along the top, 13 sky blue flowers trumpeting a glorious late summer morning.

Just beautiful -- have a look.

Northern Water Snakes

2011-08-18T06:14:00.000-04:00

Often I wake at 4:00 am and lie in bed for awhile thinking about the day ahead, perhaps a work project or a blog post or lately all the peaches to be harvested and eaten or canned. Usually I fall back to sleep for another 30 minutes or so before finally rising for good at 5:00 am. My internal clock is hardwired for these times, probably from the many early bird surveys that required early wake-ups.

During the 30 minutes of extra sleep I often have weird dreams or at least the weird ones that I can remember. This morning I woke at 4:00, Kodi at my feet, cool air wafting in the window. I immediately started thinking about water snakes and my blog. Water snakes were just in my dreams. Kodi and I were at some sort of nature center. He was off-leash and running down to the driveway. There, a naturalist was using two sticks to pick up two HUGE, water snakes. They puffed up and hissed and nearly struck at Kodi who was sitting nearby curious of course.

I've been seeing a lot of water snakes this summer. And I was fretting that I hadn't had time for a blog post for 7 days. So, I put the two thoughts together and here is a little bit about northern water snakes.

First, water snakes are big -- 2 to 4 feet -- but they are not huge (that was just in my dream). They are thick-bodied and as with many animals they only harm if they are disturbed. Otherwise they slip quietly away into the water. The water snake is non-venomous; not to be confused with the venomous water moccasin which lives in the southeastern U.S., and is not in New England.

At one of our favorite local haunts where we take Kodi there is a rock-covered causeway that crosses a large wetland. Shrubs and other plants grow among the bigger rocks at the edge of the causeway where it slopes down to the water. When I walk along the causeway I always see at least one water snake, sometimes three, curled in the weeds, basking in the sun and waiting for an unwary frog or salamander or small fish to linger too close.

Dogs, people, bicycles pass by and the snakes barely move unless you get a little too close, but mostly they just hang out. So, clearly these are not aggressive snakes. If handled they will act aggressively and will bite, but that seems like a reasonable response.

Here are photos of the three water snakes that I saw on one such walk across the causeway.

The water snake is blackish with splotches of red that darken as the snake ages. The scales are keeled (not smooth as in a black racer). This is one of our most common snakes. If you are near water look about for a basking snake and it is surely a northern water snake. Any time now (from August to September) the females will give birth to 20 to 40 live young. No wonder they seem to be doing well.

Pine Cones

2011-08-11T20:27:00.000-04:00

Whenever it rains hard during the summer, pine cones seem to rain down, the cones knocked from branches in the upper canopy of tall white pines before the cones are fully mature. On non-rainy days, squirrels and insects nibble at them, causing more to rain down. Sometimes woodland trails and our road are littered with cones. We've had some good, good rains this summer and there are lots of squirrels, so consequently there are a lot of fallen cones.

White pine cones are interesting. They are rather like green frogs and bullfrogs in that they take two full years to mature. During the first spring female flowers (which become the cones) are pollinated by the male flowers (which wither and die after releasing their pollen into the wind). You will recall all the yellow pine pollen that floats in the air and in puddles after a good spring rain. So, after pollination the female flower forms a small "cone," about the size of your thumb by fall.

My friend Karen Bennett, who knows all things about trees, provided great info for this blog post, including the tip about thumb-sized female cones. The female cones remain about the same size through winter. When the second summer comes around, the female cones start to grow and expand. They reach maturity at five inches or more by fall. Everyone can recognize a mature female pine cone -- brown and woody (see photo below). Once mature they open fully and drop their seeds, if the rain and the squirrels and the insects haven't gotten them first.

In summer, before the cones have matured, you might see these on the ground, again felled by rain, squirrels, or insects.

Both cones in the above photo are female second year cones, not yet mature. When the cone first starts to expand in spring it is green, then changes to a purplish color, before becoming woody and brown in fall. Squirrels are after the 2 seeds tucked into each papery scale.

Some years are great seed years for white pine. This does not seem to be one of them, despite the cones strewn on the ground. You know a good crop year when you look into the top of a big white pine and see the upper branches laden with female cones.

Beechnuts

2011-08-08T06:58:00.002-04:00

On Saturday Kodi and I were walking through College Woods in Durham, one of our favorite local haunts. Kodi has a few favorite swimming holes and finds squirrels to tease. The place is full of gray squirrels. At one spot along the trail I heard a drip, drip, drip. I looked about and saw the ground littered with the hulls and seeds of beechnuts. A squirrel was systematically harvesting beechnuts over my head. I assume at some point it would climb down the tree and start eating and caching the huge harvest. I wondered if it would share the harvest with other squirrels.

Beechnuts are from the American beech, Fagus grandifolia. Beech fruits are a little more than 1/2 inch in size and covered in a bur. Inside are two small, sweet triangular nuts. The tree is easily recognizable with its smooth, gray bark, unless it is infected with beech bark disease (which many are) then its bark is pockmarked with cankers. When hiking in the White Mountains I always check beech trees for bear claw marks, beechnuts being a favorite food of black bears.

It seems a little early for the beechnut harvest, but animals always know when fruits are ripe or just about to be ripe. Take the chipmunks in our vegetable garden. They snatch a tomato just before its ripe for picking. One feature of chipmunks is that they are so easy to live trap - just bait the trap with a tomato! I caught two this weekend and moved them elsewhere, to a nice wooded stone wall where they can eat beechnuts instead.

A Yard Walkabout

2011-08-04T12:50:00.001-04:00

Early August and summer seems to be zooming by. So much going on this time of year that I've been missing days at a time here at Spicebush Log. Then I got a nice comment from my blog friend John, which inspired me to take a break from my work and walk about the yard. Just a 15 minute walkabout and here is what I saw.

First to the vegetable patch to check on the okra -- a favorite of my Indian relatives. A few more to pick today; note the lovely hibiscus-like flower; hibiscus and okra are in the same family, Mallow.

Then the celeriac (which I am growing for the first time) looked like it needed some organic fish fertilizer tea that I have brewing in the garden, so I gave them a drink. Then to the melon patch to check on the size of the watermelons and cantelopes. My young niece Lia and I are having a melon contest later this summer to see who grows the best melon (size, taste, and looks will all be criteria). I check my melons every day. Hot and sunny July was a good month for melon growth.

A walk by the hazelnut bush revealed a handful of Japanese beetles so in the collection jar they went. Thankfully their numbers have declined of late. I paused briefly to look at the cool hazel fruit (nut) that is still ripening.

As I continued my walkabout I saw and heard the usual buzz of activity among the flowers. Among the diversity of insect life, a beetle, a fly, a skipper butterfly, and a dragonfly caught my eye.

Last stop, the peach trees. The fruits are still hard and small, just slightly bigger than a lime. Two baby robins sat silently in their nest tucked into the crotch of the old peach tree. They will be off on their own by the time the peaches are ready to harvest.

What a refreshing break from my work - thanks for the inspiration John. Lia -- don't forget to check your melons. For other readers - what's in your yard?

A Crab Spider

2011-07-30T20:25:00.000-04:00

The coneflowers and other flowering plants in the perennial garden are full of life: skippers, bumblebees, other various bees and flies, and today a spider. A beautiful white spider with pink bands.

Isn't she beautiful? At bugguide.org I keyed this to a goldenrod crab spider, Misumena vatia. Apparently this spider can change color over several days from white to yellow depending on the color flower that it's sitting on. This spider, looking like a crab, lies in wait for its prey - unwitting flies and other insects; it does not build a web.

Silver-spotted Skipper

2011-07-24T17:16:00.003-04:00

Walking around the yard in the late afternoon, collecting Japanese beetles in my yogurt container gets tiresome and discouraging sometimes. Just when I think I've nipped them all, I find bunches more. Then there are the tomato hornworms, at least 3 each day to dispatch.

My mood brightens though as I approach the coneflowers as this is where I find lovely bees and butterflies and other cool insects. So it was today. I saw a new butterfly on the purple coneflower and dashed back in the house for my camera. It looked like a different species of skipper - a big one. After a review of the Internet, I keyed it as a silver-spotted skipper, Epargyreus ciarus.

Note the gold spots on the forewings and the silvery-white band on the underside of the hindwing. Somewhere I read that the silver band looks like the State of Texas (the "silver star" state), hence its name. I'm not sure.

This is the largest skipper (about a 2 inch wingspan) and apparently quite common. Have a look at its huge eyes and large proboscis, features common to all skippers.

The translucent gold spots on the forewings resemble a stained glass window as the late afternoon sun illuminates the garden.

A Polyphemus Moth

2011-07-23T07:14:00.000-04:00

About 2:00 in the afternoon yesterday, at the peak of the heat, when the thermometer read 99.8 F, Kodi decided he wanted to go outside. He actually flopped down in the lawn, under the hot sun, for awhile. I noticed some dead leaves in the driveway, then realized it was a big moth with a 4-5 inch wingspan, a polyphemous moth to be precise.

The moth looked a little tattered and was sluggish, as these giant silkworm moths tend to be. With these species' it is all about the caterpillars. The adults do not feed, rather they spend their week or less of life, mating and laying eggs.

This one looks like a female. Males have much bushier antennae, which they use to smell female pheromones.

I moved the moth to the shady lawn at the edge of the woods. There it spread its wings, displaying a beautiful set of "eyespots" on the hind wings. The moth will flash these owl-like "eyes" to scare potential predators. The dead leaf look when the wings are closed offers more protection, hence my initial thought that it was a pile of leaves on the driveway.

Polyphemus moth, Antheraea polyphemus

Although a "silkworm" moth, along with the well-known luna moth and cecropia moth among others, these American silkworm moths are not the source of silk. Attempts at harvesting silk commercially from these moths has apparently failed. Silk for textiles comes from the Silkmoth, a member of a related but different family. Regardless, all the silkworm moths are gorgeous - keep an eye out for these giants.

Coping with Heat

2011-07-22T07:54:00.001-04:00

Kodi figured it out this morning. While I was watering the vegetable garden he dug a cool spot at the edge of the perennial bed.

As I was watering the tomatoes, I noticed the first two tomato hornworms of the season. I always dread finding these, because it's a little icky to squish them, so green and juicy they are.

On a sweet note, this is the best year for our six blueberry bushes. We manage to harvest a small crop each day - enough for granola and ice cream -- before the birds and chipmunks find them. Kodi is indifferent to fruits and vegetables, so we don't worry about him nibbling at the bushes. Our previous dogs loved fruits; they would pick blueberries and raspberries straight from the bushes. We've also picked gobs of blueberries from Inkwell Farm, a nearby organic farm that is loaded with berries.

Busy as Bees in the Coneflowers

2011-07-19T10:53:00.001-04:00

Mid-July mornings are busy, especially when the temperature and humidity rise quickly each day. It is best to get the gardening done early. Fortunately we got a bit of rain yesterday, so the gardens did not need watering. This provided time for new plantings of sugar snap peas, green beans, cilantro, spinach, and arugula. Then to harvesting cucumbers (these are coming on strong), zucchini, patty pan summer squash, lettuce, and a few sun gold tomatoes.The green beans are full of blossoms and a few beans are forming. The okra is a bit stunted, but starting to form small fruits.

After planting and harvesting, I walked around the yard with the water-filled yogurt container collecting Japanese beetles. The numbers are declining so I am hopeful that I'm getting ahead of them. They favor certain plants: hazelnut bushes, evening primrose, blueberry bushes, and a smattering of other plants. At least I know where to focus my energy. In the morning and the evening the beetles are quite sluggish and easy to gather.

Then I paused to enjoy the purple coneflowers bathed in morning sun. I love watching the pollinators at work; they were all busy this morning, sharing space on each flower with one another. Here is a collection of the bees, flies, beetles, and butterflies at work this morning (click to enlarge).

Banded longhorn beetle

Skippers and friends

Kale and Potatoes

2011-07-15T20:51:00.003-04:00

Kale must be one of the easiest vegetables to grow. It lasts from spring to fall and even into winter. We use it in recipes that call for spinach, which seems much harder to grow in our summer climate. And now that we grew potatoes for the first time, kale and potatoes are a perfect pair. Yesterday I dug up half our small patch of potatoes -- a small but terrific crop of Yukon Golds -- and picked a handful of kale.

With my in-laws from India here for an extended visit, we are preparing mostly Indian vegetarian meals. My mother-in-law cooks without recipes, but I rely on a few cookbooks. A favorite is Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cooking. Jaffrey has an excellent spinach-potato (Saag aloo) recipe in which I use kale instead of spinach. The coarser kale actually goes quite well with the starchy potatoes.

The recipe includes cubed potatoes, chopped kale, one onion sliced thin, a few garlic cloves minced, salt, black mustard seeds, and a pinch of ground asafetida (a common south Indian spice). Essentially you saute all of this, starting with the asafetida and mustard seeds added to a few tablespoons of vegetable oil heated in a saute pan. Add each ingredient and cook with a little water for about 20 to 30 minutes, salt to taste. Yum.

A Toxic Meal Regurgitated

2011-07-13T20:56:00.002-04:00

I spent yesterday walking with a landowner on her family land, which sits on the lower slopes of the Doublehead mountains along the East Branch of the Saco River in Jackson, New Hampshire. While it was beastly hot and humid elsewhere, we enjoyed a slightly cooler day on the wooded slope, beneath huge hemlocks, white pines and birches and in butterfly-friendly meadows of milkweed, goldenrod, and other wildflowers. On the drive home, I thought how fortunate I am to visit interesting people and interesting lands across New Hampshire.

Yesterday, under hazy skies we climbed uphill into a cool (in temperature and in scenery) spruce and fir forest, listening to warblers and thrushes and talking about the history of the land and the lives of the trees. At midday we hiked through one of the meadows back to the house for lunch as barn swallows glided overhead and swooped down to the pond for a meal. My host took me by the pond to show me a small treasure left behind on the swimming dock.

Only a kindred spirit would show me a lump of vomit left behind by a great blue heron. This bird had fed in the pond the previous night and roosted overnight on the dock. Before flying off in the morning it regurgitated its last meal. We pulled it apart for a closer look. Here, take a look, what do you see?

Those are five intact (but dead of course) red-spotted newts and maybe a bit of fish. The heron would have swallowed a tasty fish, but the batch of newts ruined the meal. Newts have slightly toxic skin, a somewhat effective defense mechanism, except in this case. We saw a heron lift off from the pond later in the day; it looked like a young bird, perhaps inexperienced in the ways of safe foraging.

The red-spotted newt is the adult stage of a salamander that starts out as an aquatic larva, then changes into a juvenile "red eft" stage and moves to land, where it spends a few years (sometimes up to 7 years) out of water. Eventually the eft returns to a pond and matures into the aquatic adult newt stage. The red eft and the adult newt have red and black spots. The adult newt is typically olive green, while the eft is often bright orange and is a common sight on woodland trails especially after a rain.

I look forward to my next adventure with landowners in the New Hampshire outback. One of my next stops is a property that was seized by federal agents a few years ago, as the then landowner was caught growing marijuana. One of my responsibilities is to help the current landowner decide if the pits dug for growing marijuana should be filled in and restored to the natural surrounding woodland. Stayed tuned for that adventure.

First Potatoes

2011-07-09T11:46:00.000-04:00

I planted potatoes for the first time this year. Today I dug one plant to see what was happening underground. I proudly present my first two potatoes, along with the first two Sun Gold tomatoes of the season!

New Garlic

2011-07-08T06:50:00.000-04:00

We've been using the last of the garlic bulbs from last summer's harvest. By now the garlic cloves are rather dry and much less flavorful. Garlic scapes -- the curly flower stalks -- have served as a stand in, but still not quite the full flavor of a fresh bulb. So, when I visited my parents at Winterberry Farm the past two days I pulled a few bulbs of the new crop. Aren't they beautiful?!

In another few weeks we will harvest the whole crop of nearly 400 bulbs, with the biggest bulbs saved for the fall planting.

The Quiz

2011-07-05T20:20:00.001-04:00

The answers to Saturday's quiz clockwise from top left:

Queen Anne's lace, shinleaf, hog peanut, rabbit's foot clover, Indian pipe, daisy fleabane

Look for the next quiz in August; the topic is feathers. As a teaser here is a pile of feathers left behind, perhaps by a Cooper's hawk. Who do the feathers belong to?

Just as I was about to post this blog, I discovered a cool website hosted by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service -- The Feather Atlas. You can use The Feather Atlas to figure out this species and then try to determine if the feathers in the picture are wing feathers (primary or secondary) or tail feathers, or maybe some of both. You can learn how many tail feathers most birds have and so much more. How cool is that!

A Summer Plant Quiz

2011-07-02T06:50:00.000-04:00

It is summer vacation for some, which seems like a good time for a plant quiz. I do believe that the last plant quiz was way back in January, so we completely missed a spring plant quiz. Here we go then with some easy summer plants.

I picked six plants that I've seen around here in the last week or so. I also like their individual names - names that give you clues as to which is which. This is a simple quiz: match the following names to the plant photos below. Good luck and I'll be back with the answers on Tuesday.

Indian pipe, hog peanut, Queen Anne's lace, rabbit-foot clover, daisy fleabane, and shinleaf.

A Doe in the Yard

2011-07-01T12:28:00.004-04:00

A healthy looking doe wandered up our woodland path and into the edge of our backyard meadow at about 6:30 last night. She nibbled on the tall grasses, occasionally glancing toward the house, her big ears straight up. She seemed unconcerned as we stood on the deck looking back at her, even with Kodi next to us. After a few minutes she turned slowly and stepped softly back into the woods.

She was only a few steps (and nibbles) away from the three raised garden beds. Knowing that deer venture into the backyard we planted rhubarb, onions, squash, and cucumbers in the raised beds, assuming deer would avoid those plants. So far, so good.

The sweet tasting foods are in the fenced-in garden in the front yard. Last night we enjoyed our freshly picked spring broccoli and sugar snap peas. The doe would have enjoyed those too. One small creature though is mercilessly pestering the cucumbers, squash, and melons -- the striped cucumber beetle. These striped beetles are quick and small, but I am just as mercilessly squashing them.

My in-laws from India have arrived so we are cooking up delicious vegetarian Indian dishes with our fresh garden vegetables. This morning my mother-in-law and I picked 15 pounds (about 12 quarts) of sweet strawberries at a local farm. The weather this week is perfect for strawberries - dry and not too hot. We tried growing a small patch of strawberries in our yard a few years ago, but the birds and chipmunks ate most of them. So, we leave it to the bigger growers to supply the strawberry picking fields.

Now to keep Kodi away from the blueberry bushes.

Oops - Lyme Disease

2011-06-29T14:45:00.001-04:00

Looks like my carefree days working in high density tick areas are over. Last Friday I felt a small, red bump on the back of my right thigh. I thought it might be an innocuous spider bite. On Saturday I felt a little out of sorts, a bit tired. Later that day the red bump became a rash and was spreading outward and a red ring formed around the outside. Ummmm......this seemed like a classic Lyme disease symptom. We hiked on Sunday and I was in the field on Monday and felt fine.

Yesterday, Tuesday, I was feeling less well, with an elevated temperature, slight headache, and mild nausea. I went to the doctor in the afternoon and he concurred that it was likely Lyme disease. I started on 3 weeks of the antibiotic doxycycline, the recommended dose when the disease is detected early. They extracted blood to test for Lyme; the test result is not back yet but I'm fairly certain of the diagnosis.

Here's a picture of my rash, which is now about 3 inches in diameter. Although it looks red and sore, it doesn't hurt a bit. The rash should fade in a few more days and I am, just in the last few hours, starting to feel a little better, just a day after starting on the doxycycline.

New Hampshire has the third highest incidence of Lyme disease in the U.S.; Delaware and Connecticut are ahead of us. Southeast New Hampshire, where I live and do a lot of my work, has the highest density within New Hampshire. Other factors that worked against me are that I often visit areas with tall grass and brush, including this month of June when the tiny, pinhead-sized nymphs are active. Nymphs can transmit the disease more quickly, in less than 24 hours, and because they are so small they are hard to detect. Lastly because I am freckled and have various other skin spots, the little ones are particularly hard to see.

Still, I should take more precautions, and will from now on. This includes checking myself EVERY night before bed and again in the morning. I find that ticks move around at night in our house, always searching for the breath of animals. I will also wear more protection on my legs, either knee high rubber boots or gators that prevent ticks from climbing up my legs. And, I will likely start spraying with DEET or something equally effective, around my boots and lower legs (but not my skin or around my face and hands).

The other item that I carry in my pack is a roll of masking tape to easily grab and seal in any ticks I find crawling on me or Kodi. Lyme disease is transmitted by the blacklegged tick (also known as the deer tick), not by the very common wood or dog tick. We seem to have a lot of both in our area. So, ticks and Lyme disease are just things we live with. The important steps are to take as much preventive action as possible and then watch for potential Lyme disease signs -- either the red bull's eye rash or just if you feel out of sorts. In my case, I had the classic symptoms.

Mt Eisenhower

2011-06-27T07:16:00.003-04:00

Just as we were basking in the warmth of the Summer Solstice last Tuesday, the weather turned. A day of rain on Wednesday, which followed a few days of sun earlier in the week, was perfect timing for the garden. But the rain continued for nearly 5 days and the air was chilly. This felt like the third or fourth such rainy period in the last few months.

A benefit is that we can continue to postpone spring and summer cleaning -- the dreaded window washing, carpet cleaning, and other household chores that one should do more regularly, especially if you have an active dog like Kodi. Yesterday's weather looked more promising, but instead of chores, we opted to head north for a hike up Edmands Path to Mt Eisenhower. A fine choice.

Edmands Path is a nearly perfectly designed trail created, in part, by Rayner Edmands in the early 1900s. The upper stretches have rocks placed by Edmands for ease of hiking. The initial stretch of this 3.3 mile trail to the top of 4,760-foot Mt. Eisenhower is an easy grade as it passes through a lush northern hardwood forest. Surprisingly we encountered few mosquitoes, despite the humid air.

Wood sorrel (Oxalis montana) along Edmands Path

Abenaki Brook crossing on the Edmands Path

The elevation gain from the trailhead on Mt. Clinton Road to the peak is 2,750 feet, so after the initial gentle grade, the path begins a steeper, steady climb into a forest of spruce and yellow birch, with a mossy understory. At about 2.5 miles the trail crosses a small brook cascading over a ledge, then begins to level out. Fog and clouds obscured the views. One hiker coming down said there was nothing to see on top. But the trailside offered beautiful arrays of bunchberry, lush ferns, mosses, and other small flowers. And as we emerged into the alpine zone above treeline, the tiny alpine plants were lovely amid the fog.

Bunchberry (Cornus canadensis) in full bloom, lines the trail

Fog obscures the high peaks, as we emerge above treeline

As our fellowship of 7 hikers plus Kodi hiked up into the fog, I paused here and there to peer down at the alpine flowers. Such small, hardy plants of extraordinary beauty living on these windswept ridges.

Diapensia (Diapensia lapponica) grows in pincushion-like mounds

Bearberry willow (Salix uva-ursi),

like the other alpine plants, is only a few inches high

Clockwise, from top left: bog laurel (Kalmia polifolia),

mountain cranberry (Vaccinium vitis-idaea),
rhodora (Rhododendron canadense),

labrador tea (Ledum groenlandicum), bog bilberry (Vaccinium uliginosum)

After a lunch atop Mt. Eisenhower with limited visibility, we descended back to Edmands Path via the Eisenhower Loop. A wonderful short loop that leads through more alpine flowers and offered glimpses south to Mt. Chocorua as clouds parted briefly. Then we left the alpine gardens and retreated down Edmands Path into the forest below.

A Small Gem of Land

2011-06-23T17:26:00.003-04:00

During a visit to see my parents in late May, they took my sister and I to see a 6-acre old farm near the center of their town -- Amherst, Massachusetts. The town recently acquired this historic farm site and now the townsfolk have varying opinions about how the land should be used. One voice wants soccer fields. Others want to restore the house and barn and keep the rolling fields for nature, trails, and perhaps community gardens. My family is in the latter camp.

I grew up in Amherst and attended school not far from this property, so I have some attachment to the area. After our walk in May, I wrote my father a letter about the historic farm site. The letter to him turned into a guest commentary for their local paper, the Amherst Bulletin, submitted by my Dad and I. The commentary was published today - you can link to to it here.

I've also reprinted our commentary below. The title was chosen by the Bulletin''s editor.

Cultivate Hawthorne Farm's gifts

The 6-plus-acre town-owned historic Hawthorne Family Farm on East Pleasant Street in Amherst is a small gem given its proximity to the schools, its farm history, the rolling topography and row of mature sugar maples, and the varied habitats of old field, high meadow and low wet meadow.

What a great spot adjacent to the schools and to other nearby open spaces. A look at the town maps shows the potential trail connectivity from East Pleasant Street, through the meadow and shrub habitats on the old farm, to the schools, and then to Wildwood Cemetery and beyond.

When I (Ellen) attended the nearby junior high school in the 1970s, our biology teacher Mr. Bozzo took us outside birding. We'd walk along the woodland edges near the school and on up to Wildwood Cemetery. I'm sure we were within listening distance of the Hawthorne Farm and perhaps I learned some of my bird songs from those farm fields, something that helped my career as a wildlife biologist. It would be a great tribute to Mr. Bozzo to see this farm used for outdoor learning.

This historic farm also offers much potential for experiential learning. Community or educational gardens could be created in conjunction with maintenance of portions of the old fields and meadow as habitat, with walking paths that lead through the property. It is amazing what can happen on a small parcel of open space such as this. The recently released movie, Green Fire, a documentary about the renowned conservationist Aldo Leopold and his land ethic, tells of a 3.5-acre abandoned site in Chicago that was transformed into an educational space for youth. They restored prairie and wetland, and now raise vegetables and chickens and offer places to relax. That site is full of children's laughter and lush growth, both wild and cultivated. Without much effort (since the Hawthorne Farm already has much to offer) something similar could happen here.

Some have suggested soccer fields for this area. We believe that not only is this site ill-suited for athletic fields, it would be a great loss of the natural and cultural features of the property. It would be better to find a place that is already well-suited for soccer rather than re-engineering nature to fit such a use. Given the site's topography and drainage and some of the irreplaceable features (such as the mature sugar maples and the farm history), soccer fields would be a poor choice for this community-owned property. It concerns us that we are leading our youth down a path that says it is OK to completely change the topography, soils and drainage on a site to create athletic fields. Ignoring or overlooking the natural attributes of a given piece of land is not good leadership for our youth, who are already much more disconnected from the outdoors than past generations. In contrast to the cost of building and maintaining soccer fields there, a group of local volunteers could easily build and maintain one or more walking paths. Trails and community gardens and wild habitats would offer something for all generations and for all who helped protect this historic property in Amherst.

If one thinks deeply about what is missing in our youths' lives, it is not a shortage of organized sports, but rather a lack of time in wild places, in solitude, and in understanding the outdoors. On Hawthorne Farm young and old could spend time handling soil and growing food, learning to raise chickens, tapping a sugar maple in late winter, or listening to and learning the varied song of a common robin. Perhaps one could even find a quiet spot on those 6.76 acres for some solitude. Their lives will be richer for those experiences.

Signs of Summer

2011-06-21T17:40:00.003-04:00

It's beginning to feel, look, and taste more like summer. Signs of the season abound. Deer flies for one. These pesky insects emerge right around the Solstice. They hurt more than mosquitoes, flying around your head before quietly alighting on your neck or arm and then a quick zing with their razor-sharp mouth parts.

A much brighter sign: the yellows of summer are blooming, including buttercup, hawkweed, cinquefoils, and hop clover.

A buttercup

Hawkweed

Cinquefoils

Hop Clover

Summer is also a tasty time. Wild and farm-grown strawberries are ripening, getting sweeter with each warm, sunny summer day.

A small, but sweet, wild strawberry

A quart of strawbs from a local farm

I picked the first handful of sugar snap peas from our pea trellis today, the first day of summer.

Happy Solstice!

The Kanc

2011-06-20T08:08:00.003-04:00

Last weekend we returned to our friend's cabin off Bear Notch Road at the edge of the White Mountain National Forest. We were joined by my sister's family including my two young nieces. They are just getting into hiking and "roughing it" so we picked shorter hikes along the Kancamagus Highway. My youngest niece prefers "walks" to "hikes" so we picked mostly level trails rather than climbs, although she did well on one tough climb through a boulder-filled woods.

The cabin is a stone's throw from the Swift River and The Kancamagus Highway - known as "The Kanc." The river has wide sand and gravel bars and shallow, swift, cold water, enticing on a warm day. The cold water and pesky mosquitoes kept us moving quickly. Tiger swallowtails gathered on the gravelly shoals then floated off as we approached.

The Kancamagus Highway is a one of the most scenic roads in the northeast; popular during fall foliage, yet just as beautiful in early summer. It offers breathtaking scenery as well as interpretive sites of the farming, logging, and geologic history of the Passaconaway Valley.

We were impressed with the trails, bridges, and interpretive signs developed and maintained by the U.S. Forest Service along the Kanc. Each natural or historic site was worth a leisurely walk on the trails. We visited,

the Russell-Colbath historic site,
with its restored 1830s home and history of farming and logging

Rocky Gorge and accompanying 1-mile loop trail around scenic Falls Pond,

bordered by bog-loving plants including flowering pitcher plants

The dramatic Sabbaday Falls, a place of geologic beauty and of contemplation

On the Kanc you are never far from rushing water and stunning views

The view above from our cabin -- Hedgehog Mtn on the left; Tripyramids to the right.

A Morning Harvest

2011-06-17T07:04:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was a good growing day for the garden - hot and sunny. My favorite time of day is early morning, especially when the sun is just rising. It's the best time to walk down the rows of our vegetable garden to see how the plants fared overnight. With the recent rains and the warmth of yesterday, the plants put on a burst of growth and the garden pests seem to be in check.

Harvesting vegetables from my own garden makes my day. This morning I plucked three bright red radishes and two scallions, and gathered big handfuls of kale and Swiss chard. Now that's local food.

June Gardens

2011-06-15T07:46:00.002-04:00

Where did June go? We are already half-way through the month and it feels like April. Within the space of a few days I heard someone's air conditioning running, we lost power to a weird tornado-like storm, and then we almost needed to turn on the heat in the house. Tomorrow the temperature will reach 80 F. This variability is strange even for New England. Unpredictable weather is the new normal.

Despite the rain and wind and cool temperatures the perennials and herbs are lush, the lawn is green, and the peach trees are loaded with small fruits. The coral bells, loved by hummingbirds, are especially beautiful.

The vegetables, however, are struggling a little more. Yet we are harvesting and enjoying arugula, spinach, Swiss chard, kale, and cilantro. The sugar snap peas are beginning to flower, the red radishes are nearly ready to pluck. We've caged the expanding tomato plants and planted another crop of green beans. The garden is green and growing, just slowly. One benefit is that the weeds are slow too.

This year we enclosed the garden using chicken fence tacked to 4-foot posts of oak and maple saplings that we thinned from our woods. You may know that hardwood stumps sprout when you cut them. If you stick the logs into the ground they also sprout.

The vegetable garden has two gates, made from more cut saplings and bittersweet vines. The fence and the gates are meant to keep out deer and Kodi, but still allow turtles and other small creatures through. It would be helpful to have a chipmunk-proof fence, but that's impossible.

The backyard houses three raised beds. Usually the backyard is several degrees cooler as it drops off to a wetland and is more shaded. This year those beds are thriving, full of rhubarb, yellow storage onions, and a mix of summer squash, cucumbers, cabbage, and peppers. The wildflower meadow flourishes too, although it is noticeably void of butterflies, bees, and other insects. I think the spring weather has been hard on the pollinators.

Sun today and tomorrow will feel so good for humans and insects and plants.

A Kingbird and a Storm

2011-06-10T06:45:00.003-04:00

I was just sitting down to write a blog post late yesterday afternoon when the sky grew dark and the tops of trees began to sway. A band of severe thunderstorms was approaching, with potentially damaging winds. After a major tornado touched down in New Hampshire two years ago and another recently in Springfield, Massachusetts, we look at storm clouds differently now. We used to wonder why people lived in tornado alley in the Midwest, but now we all seem to be potentially at risk.

I shut down the computer and about 30 minutes later we lost power. A big limb of a red oak fell across the powerlines around the corner from our house, which must have caused the outage. When we woke this morning to the sound of a neighbor's generator, we knew the power was still out. Srini powered up our generator so we could get the fridge running for a while and fill up the water bottles. This has become at least an annual event.

Just before the storm moved through yesterday afternoon the temperature was in the low 90s and the air was still. As the clouds swirled and the wind whipped up the trees and the rain fell, the temperature dropped quickly. By the time the clouds cleared the temperature was in the low 70s. Everyone threw open their windows as indoors was now much warmer than the outside air temperature.

My blog post yesterday was going to be about a panting Eastern kingbird that I saw while walking a property in the 90 degree heat. So, here is the story of the hot kingbird. I was checking out a constructed wildlife pond that I've written about before, where I've seen two Blanding's turtles. On Wednesday the turtles were not basking -- too hot for them. Instead I noticed the kingbird sitting on its nest atop a snag (a dead tree) in the water. She or he -- both parents incubate the eggs and they look alike -- was panting, which is one way that birds cool themselves.

Here are some photos of the kingbird on its nest. The last one is a bit fuzzy but you can see the bird panting.

The nest site

The panting kingbird

The eastern kingbird is a common flycatcher that likes open country with scattered perches, such as orchards, fields, wetlands, and forest edges. They are easily identified by their dark gray, almost black, head, back, and tail that is white tipped. The throat and belly are white. The kingbird aggressively defends its nest from predators and its territory from other kingbirds. They have a fluttering, stiff-winged flight and a rapid, stuttering song.

I admire their ability to sit on their eggs beneath a sweltering sun. I'm glad I can seek shade instead.

Our power is still out but the tree trucks are working on the red oak limb. It's cooler today, beautiful really. The kingbird will do less panting today.

Whiteface and Passaconaway

2011-06-05T14:40:00.004-04:00

It felt good to be on the trail again yesterday for a daylong hike. Our last such hike was a wintry day in March with snow falling and near zero visibility at the top of Mt. Hight. Yesterday was clear and sunny with mild temperature in the high 60s. The only unwelcome participants were black flies, which pestered us when we stopped for snacks, lunch, or a view. For most of the 12.4 mile hike though we managed to ignore the tiny black flies (Srini might disagree!) and enjoy the flowers, birds, strenuous hike, and spectacular views from rock ledges. Kodi loved every minute, especially when he could flop into cold mountain streams.

We began our hike at the Ferncroft gravel parking lot in the rural village of Wonalancet within the picturesque town of Tamworth. Many trailheads begin here, with trails leading to various peaks within the Sandwich Range Wilderness. Thanks go to the volunteers in the Wonalancet Outdoor Club, which created a terrific trail map of the Sandwich Range and whose volunteers maintain these trails. Also, the trails pass through private lands before entering the White Mountain National Forest; the landowners kindly invite hikers to cross their lands via private roads and trails.

Our destination for the day was the 4,020' Mt. Whiteface, and then possibly onto the 4.043' Mt. Passaconaway, if we were feeling energetic. Here is the view as we started out from the parking lot (Mt. Whiteface is in the distance).

We crossed Squirrel Bridge then picked up Blueberry Ledge Trail, which leads to the top of Mt. Whiteface. Initially we followed the Blueberry Ledge Cutoff, which doesn't add any extra distance and parallels the lovely Wonalancet Brook. We heard the slow, steady tapping of a yellow-bellied sapsucker and listened to a black-throated blue warbler announcing its territory with zoo, zoo, zoo, zreeee.

The black flies and mosquitoes were a little pesky from the start so Srini kept up a steady hiking pace. I paused to snap pictures of wildflowers in bloom -- clintonia, hobblebush, starflower, and the eye-catching painted trillium.

Blueberry Ledge Trail, as its name suggests, has lots of exposed ledge as you climb higher. These open rock slabs offer great views in many directions. Some require hand scrambles and some minor rock climbing abilities. It would be a tricky route in icy or wet conditions.

A view from Blueberry Ledge Trail, looking westerly

A view of the rounded and attractive Mt. Passaconaway

looking northeast from a ledge on Whiteface.

Srini and Kodi enjoy the view of Mt. Chocorua in the distance, then Kodi and I absorb the expansive views down into The Bowl, across to Mt. Passaconaway and beyond to Mt. Washington

Srini admires the view from Whiteface Intervale,

a high rock ledge just below the wooded summit of Mt. Whiteface

We reached the turnoff for the loop hike to Mt. Passaconaway by 1:00 and were feeling good, so we turned north and joined lots of other people who had the same idea. Until then, we'd passed only a couple people - we had Blueberry Ledge Trail all the way to the summit of Mt. Whiteface all to ourselves. Kodi's small black body was hot so the first thing he did was flop into a small, clear stream, then he was ready to continue.

Kodi cools off in a small stream so clear
that you can barely see the water against the small stones

Views from Mt. Passaconoaway of Potash Mtn, Hedgehog Mtn,
and Mt. Chocorua, respectively

We returned via the Dicey's Mill Trail, which passes through the heart of The Bowl. This 1,500-acre research natural area harbors an old growth forest and the site of research on old forests. The Bowl was saved from logging in the early 1900s, although the 1938 hurricane and the 1998 ice storm had dramatic effects on the forests in The Bowl.

The upper section of Dicey's Mill Trail passes through a balsam fir forest. The trail was littered with piles of moose droppings, leftover from winter. Moose move into these higher elevations in winter where they find cover under mature fir and browse on the needles of young fir. The food is rather fibrous as you can tell from the droppings.

In the late afternoon we re-emerged into the fields of Ferncroft, still with a skip in our step, as the black flies followed us. A terrific day in the mountains, black flies and all.

Another Sort of Turtle in the Garden

2011-06-01T12:38:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I spent an hour watching a painted turtle lay eggs in our vegetable garden; specifically in the okra bed. She was a welcome addition to the garden. I've flagged off about a 2-foot area encircling the nest to make sure I don't disturb the nest as I go about weeding and harvesting okra later this summer. My Dad called to suggest that I erect a little fence around the nest to keep skunks away. Skunks love to dig up and eat turtle eggs. We've seen skunk diggings in our yard, which is great as they are looking for grubs. But, I don't want the skunk eating the turtles.

Earlier in the day I found another sort of turtle in the garden. This time in the potato bed. Instead of a reptile these were tiny insects called tortoise beetles. If you look close they look like a tortoise mounted on a piece of glass. They are an odd looking creature. Since they nibble on the potato leaves, I picked them off by hand and dropped them into soapy water. These tortoise beetles barely move so I am not sure when they are active. I could not find out a lot about this insect, so they must not be a huge pest for gardeners.

Another beetle, however, is more of a nuisance -- cucumber beetles. These yellow and black-striped beetles are more active and more devastating to crop plants, including cucumbers and watermelons. I check the plants twice a day and any cucumber beetles go into my soapy water (yogurt) container.

Lest you think I am going a day without seeing turtles, on the drive back from an errand this morning I stopped to help a painted turtle across the road. We are coming into peak turtle nesting season so drive slow and help turtles if you can. Just move them across the road in the direction that they were going. If you find a turtle wandering about your yard, let it be. She's probably in search of a nest site. If you carry her back to a wetland she'll just have to make the long trip again!

A Turtle in my Garden

2011-05-31T21:45:00.003-04:00

This afternoon about 4:30 I carried three containers of okra seedlings that I started inside to my garden to be planted. Okra, as with green beans, like warm soil and warm days. So, today was the day to plant both beans and okra.

I set the okra next to the bed into which they were to be planted. I made several trips carrying a bucket of water and a trowel and the bean seeds. Before getting underway I noticed that our neighbors were outside. I wanted to give them some extra leek and onion seedlings that I couldn't fit into my gardens. I was gone about 15 minutes. When I returned to my garden to plant the okra, someone was in the bed.

A painted turtle was building her nest and preparing to lay her eggs in the middle of the okra bed. She picked the one empty bed to lay her eggs. I'm certain she was not there 15 minutes earlier, but she must have been nearby. Turtles don't move that fast. So, I got my camera and sat and watched the turtle excavate the nest, dig holes for the eggs, then cover the eggs, all with her two hind legs. I think she was exhausted when she finished as she sort of trundled out of the bed and toward the garden fence on her way back to the wetland.

The okra, the bed, the turtle

The turtle working on her nest

A view through the sugar snap peas

She used her back legs to bring soil from the sides of the nest
and pack the soil. Notice also that her carapace is sunken in the rear,
now that the 5-8 eggs have been laid.

Now, where was the nest!

She did an amazing job of camouflaging the site,

by spreading the loose topsoil back into place.

She was exhausted as she headed back to the wetland.

I marked the nest site with small flags and planted the okra around her nest site.

I'll mark the calendar 65 days from today, when the eggs should hatch.
The green beans will be planted tomorrow.

Kodi's Pool

2011-05-30T20:09:00.000-04:00

Kodi got a new wading pool in advance of the warm and humid Memorial Day Weekend. We were away visiting relatives, but as soon as we returned home this afternoon when it was near 90 F, Kodi hopped into his pool to cool down.

Rain last week followed by high temperatures over the weekend jump started the garden and the mosquitoes. In Western Massachusetts, where we spent the weekend, the mosquitoes were fierce. There is much to share and show about our gardens, but after a busy weekend of weeding and planting at my parents Winterberry Farm, that will have to wait until tomorrow. Rest is needed.

Wild Geraniums

2011-05-26T10:03:00.000-04:00

I'm a bit taken by geraniums, both wild and cultivated. I have various shades of pink, purple, and red geraniums in my perennial beds or in pots. They look lush after weeks of rain. The wild geranium though is really beautiful with its lilac-colored petals and deeply lobed or cleft leaves. They grow in small clusters along trails at the edge of the woods or meadow, usually in moist soils.

Kodi and I walked at College Woods this morning. One of those perfect late spring/early summer mornings. A mix of warm sun and puffy clouds, clear air with low humidity, birds singing, and toads trilling. A chorus of toads trilled from around the pond. As one started trilling, the others followed. When you approach the pond, the nearby toads may go quiet. But stand still and wait patiently and the toads will start up again. Even with your naked eye you can see their vocal sac expand as they trill for up to 30 seconds.

On our way to the pond at College Woods we passed the lovely patch of wild geranium, also known as spotted cranesbill (the seed pod takes the shape of a cranes bill), photographed above.

Treefrogs

2011-05-25T05:11:00.002-04:00

I woke early this morning. Warm air wafted in our open bedroom windows and the morning dawned bright. A combination that we've not had for some time. The dawn chorus started early, first the robins and phoebes, then a barred owl.

Warm temperatures the last few nights have stirred another creature: the gray treefrog (Hyla versicolor). This small 2-inch frog waits for warm evenings (above 15C/59F) to start its intense breeding season. The male belts out a loud trill, amazingly loud for such a tiny amphibian. Males sit on tree branches near a wetland, trilling with all their might to attract females. The males use so much energy to trill that over the course of several intense calling nights they lose weight.

Treefrogs trill during the day some, but the most intense trilling occurs in the evening, up until about midnight. Yesterday late morning Kodi and I wandered back to the wetland as we are apt to do these days. I listened to the birds of the wetland and forest edge: yellow warblers and common yellowthroats in the shrubs, red-winged blackbirds defending their territories among the cattails and buttonbush, an ovenbird behind me in the midstory tree canopy. The loudest call though was the treefrog.

The gray treefrog, as its Latin name versicolor suggests, can change its color from ashen gray to green to light brown. This, along with their small size, makes them hard to find against the lichen-covered trees that they inhabit. They could be down low in a shrub or up high in a tree. Large toe pads enable them to climb easily.

Throw open your windows at bedtime or spend some time outdoors in the evening after sundown and listen for a loud trill. You might mistake it for a bird or even an insect (such as a cicada). The diminutive treefrog rules the night sounds on these warm evenings.

Sun and Shiitakes

2011-05-21T21:42:00.001-04:00

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...the sun came out today!

And we harvested 11 shiitake mushrooms; four were sauteed for dinner.

A Wet Week

2011-05-20T17:43:00.000-04:00

I just checked the UNH Weather website. Rain fell every day this week, beginning last Saturday, with nearly an inch on Sunday and Wednesday. The total rainfall was only 2.5 inches; it seemed like much more. Today was the first day without measurable rainfall, although the sun remains AWOL. Still, let's celebrate that today was simply cloudy.

Kodi and I wandered back to the wetland this afternoon. He sniffs nearly every sedge blade and shrub stem. I wish I knew what he learned during his wanderings. Since I could only smell dampness, I captured my images on film. Here are some scenes from the woods and wetlands behind our house after a week of rain.

Bunchberry (Cornus canadensis)

Hummock sedge (Carex stricta)

A fern unfolds

A horsetail's fertile and sterile stem,

and a giant, old fallen pine harbors other plants and animals

Shiitakes

2011-05-18T18:12:00.002-04:00

Back in 2004 my sister wrangled a few of us into helping inoculate a couple dozen oak logs with shitake spawn. This involved drilling holes along the length of the four-foot log, filling each hole with spawn, then covering the hole with melted beeswax. As I recall it was a lot of work, as each log had many holes.

Since then, though, we've enjoyed several shiitake harvests. The logs have moved a couple times I think. Most recently they've resided with our parents at Winterberry Farm. Since they are not overly fond of the mushrooms, I thought the logs could come spend some time with us here in southeast New Hampshire. After removing the overtopping white pines from our woods this winter, the remaining hardwood forest offers perfect shade and conditions for growing shiitakes. My parents brought the logs up a few weekends ago and the crib fit nicely into our woods.

Mushrooms of course like moisture, so I turned the hose on them for a time since they'd dried out over the winter. That was completely unnecessary. I think it has rained every day since. Although we are feeling a little over-watered, the shiitakes burst forth in all this rain. Each day they get a little bigger. I think shiitakes will be part of our Friday night dinner menu. I counted 36 shiitakes on the these logs, so some will be stored in the fridge in a paper bag.

I've read that the productive life for these logs is 8 to 10 years, so we may be coming to the end of the shiitake years for this crib. Might be time to start a new one. We've begun looking about for oak trees about 4 to 6 inches in diameter.

Whenever I feel gloomy about the weather, which is fairly often these days, I look out my window at the shiitake crib. Not only are the shiitakes sprouting but the flower and vegetable gardens seem to be flourishing too. The potatoes, radishes, and small white turnips have sprouted in the last few days. I even saw a ruby-throated hummingbird at the bleeding heart this cold, rainy afternoon. The birds and the bees could use some sun sooner than later.

Sunbathing Reptiles

2011-05-14T17:29:00.001-04:00

Lately I've been spending a lot of time visiting wetlands. Kodi likes water as I've mentioned before and one of my recent work projects involved planting (with the help of volunteers) hundreds of native tree and shrub seedlings around a restored wetland. Most of my walkabouts with Kodi involve walking near at least one wetland.

These wetland visits have yielded a surprising number of turtle and snake sightings. On sunny days I always take time to sit and watch them basking on logs, hummocks, and beaver lodges. The most common sighting is of the painted turtle. I often see more than a dozen painted turtles of various sizes basking on logs and bare sedge hummocks on a late morning or early afternoon walk, when the air temperature and the sun's warmth are just right. If it is too cold or too hot, the turtles won't be out. The painted turtle, although common, is one of the most beautiful of our native turtles, with yellow stripes on its throat and neck and red markings on the edge of its shiny, smooth shell.

Last week I blogged about two rare Blanding's turtles that I spotted basking along with a handful of painted turtles and a small wood turtle sunning itself against a cattail blade. My latest sighting of sunbathing reptiles involved three northern water snakes on a beaver lodge. Two of the snakes were intertwined and sunning at the bottom edge of the lodge. A third, larger snake, was coiled at the very top of the lodge - maybe he was king of the heap.

A beaver lodge with three sunbathing northern water snakes.

Click to enlarge and you may be able to pick them out.

For some great wildlife watching grab a pair of binoculars on a sunny, late morning or early afternoon, and head out to the nearest wetland. Turtles may slip into the water when you approach, but take a seat and wait and they will emerge again. Scan beaver lodges for sunning snakes. While you sit and enjoy the solitude of the wetland and surrounding woods, you might see a goose family swim by as I did. Four black and yellow goslings floated along in a line, dad in front and mom behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kodi and me.

The pair of geese swim over to check on Kodi, to make sure he doesn't disturb their goslings,

which they must have tucked away somewhere safe on the other side of the wetland,

and Kodi curiously and harmlessly eyes the geese.

Spring Days

2011-05-10T09:20:00.003-04:00

Spring is zipping along now. The black flies are out, but not too thick. Brilliantly colored birds sing from their tree-top perches. From our yard we hear a scarlet tanager, rose-breasted grosbeak, Baltimore oriole, and great-crested flycatcher. They are visible as the newly emerging oak and maple leaves are still small. Warblers, about the size and color of the leaves, are much harder to see.

The yard and garden demand lots of attention these days. We've had a recent stretch of fair weather, after a wet early Spring, so we're playing catch-up. The Yukon gold potatoes and Copra storage onions from Johnny's Seeds are finally in the ground. The sugar snap peas are climbing up our new pea fence. Swiss chard, broccoli, and kale seedlings from Farmer Renee are planted and waiting for a bit warmer weather to really get going. I planted okra seeds indoors and these need hot days before moving into the garden. The spinach, arugula, and cilantro that I direct seeded weeks ago continue to grow ever so slowly.

The Exeter Farmer's Market season opener was last Thursday afternoon. I came home with bags of fresh mesclun, arugula, spinach, and potatoes, along with a dozen eggs. Another farmer friend had miner's lettuce (Claytonia perfoliata), a first for me. It made a nice addition to a fresh salad of mesclun and arugula. The potatoes and spinach were paired for an Indian dish of that name. Wonderful flavors after a long winter of hard to come by fresh foods.

Kodi prefers winter temperatures. These warmer days find him wandering back to the wetland to cool off. As I go in search of him, there is always something new for me to see too. These last few days it is a patch of fringed polygala along the path and wild highbush blueberry in bloom near the wetland shore, both flowers so dainty and lovely. The pair of Canada geese honk as they watch over five young goslings; this is the pair that nested on the beaver lodge.

Fringed polygala

Wild highbush blueberry

Turtle Encounters

2011-05-04T20:31:00.002-04:00

A week ago I helped my first turtle of the year across the road. It was a painted turtle with a bit of duckweed (a small aquatic plant) stuck to its back and it was just starting to cross the road. I stopped and moved it to the other side of the road, in the direction that it was traveling. One always hopes that they don't just turn around and go back.

Yesterday I had more turtle encounters while visiting a small, isolated pond near the Lamprey River. I saw three different species: painted, Blanding's, and wood. The painted turtles were no surprise; 14 in all were basking on logs. Sitting on the same log with four painted turtles, were two Blanding's turtles, a state endangered species. A Blanding's is easily identified by its yellow chin and domed, helmet-like top shell. See if you can pick out the two Blanding's turtles in this picture.

Here is a little closer picture of the smaller of the two Blanding's turtles. I think you can see the yellow chin clearly.

I walked a little farther around the pond and heard a rustling in the cattails. There I saw a one-inch thick water snake crawling through the cattails, about a foot off the ground. Then I heard a crash when the snake fell or dropped back to the water among the cattails. I continued on and then spotted another turtle sunning itself on a cattail stalk. I must confess I thought young (about 3 inches long) snapping turtle and moved on. Later, when I looked at my photos again, I realized it was a wood turtle, a species of conservation concern in New Hampshire. Wood turtles tend to be secretive and it seemed too open and exposed for such a turtle. But have a look at the photo - a wood turtle for sure.

This is the Year of the Turtle (It seems to be the year of many things, although turtles are always worth celebrating). Have a look at the website of the Partners in Amphibian and Reptile Conservation and you will read why turtles are highlighted this year. Many turtle species are in decline because of road mortality (watch for turtles crossing and help them across when you can), fragmenting of their habitats (they move from wetlands to uplands to nest), collecting by the pet trade, and an overabundance of mid-sized predators such as raccoons and skunks.

This is the time of year to see turtles and help celebrate the Year of the Turtle.

Two Spring Beauties

2011-05-03T08:48:00.002-04:00

I spent yesterday walking about with a client on his 660-acre property in western New Hampshire mapping habitat features, peering into vernal pools, photographing plants, and listening to bird songs. We flushed a ruffed grouse and a barred owl, watched the antics of several pairs of yellow-bellied sapsuckers, and discovered dozens of spotted salamander egg masses in the vernal pools, including the following group.

A slight breeze kept the black flies at bay and the partly sunny day made for a fine walk in the woods. We bushwhacked up and down slopes, across fallen trees and ice-damaged saplings, and then more leisurely along several woods roads. Warblers sang as we walked, including ovenbird, black-and-white, yellow-rumped, black-throated green, and black-throated blue.

Two beautiful spring flowering woodland wildflowers caught our eye: trout lily and red trillium.

Sugar Maples in Flower

2011-05-01T18:50:00.001-04:00

I pronounce this the year of the sugar maple. We can't remember a more beautiful Spring season of flowering sugar maples. They are gorgeous this year. Drive along any road or look along the edge of any woodland in these parts and you will easily pick out the yellow glow of the sugar maples.

The yellowish-green flowers hang from long petioles, like dangling earrings. The leaves are just emerging at the base of the flower cluster.

In addition to the incredible flower show by the sugar maple, it's been a banner maple syrup year too. According to the New Hampshire Maple Producers, some sugaring houses had their best season ever. What a sweet tree.

A Spring Show

2011-04-29T18:56:00.003-04:00

From the tops of trees to the forest floor, from woodland edges to rural roadsides, Spring is putting on a show. A spectacular show, with more richness of shapes, sizes, and diversity than the more famous Fall colors. And every year is a beautiful year, except for maybe the black flies that emerged in the last few days.

You can see the Spring colors from afar, by looking across a field at a woodland edge. Red maples are dangling their red fruits, while sugar maples are draped in greenish-yellow dangling flowers. Long catkins hang from birches and leaf buds of nearly every tree and shrub are opening.

Walk along a woodland edge or into a forest and
look from the ground to above your head,

the white flowers of wood anemones decorate the ground.

On a moss covered tree stump,
the tiny blossom of the starflower is nearly open,

and a little bug takes note.

At eye level shrubs are opening up all over,
including this alternate-leaved dogwood.

Witchhazel fruits (this woodland shrub flowers in the fall)

sit on the stem between newly emerging leaves.

Buds of the beech tree grow longer and longer before opening.

A young sugar maple leafed out without flowering.

Now if only my nasty head cold would buzz off then I could also smell the Spring show.