Community-centered Mondate

February 22, 2016October 21, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

While it wasn’t the first Mondate I wrote about, one of our early Mondates in the past year occurred at the Greater Lovell Land Trust property we headed to today–Back Pond Reserve in North Waterford/Stoneham.

m-eagle 1

On our way we were forced to stop by Bear Pond for a regal sight.

m-Ron

And another regal sight along the trail–I’ve given thanks to Ron before and I know I’ll thank him again (RIP Ron) for his foresight in encouraging the greater community to protect the water quality of the Five Kezar ponds by purchasing and placing “The Mountain” area in conservation easement.

m-climbing view

As we climbed through the beech/oak forest, I paused to take a photo. Lo and behold, my camera didn’t work. I was certain I’d charged the battery, but it wouldn’t click. I tried a back-up battery to no avail. Frustration set in, but my guy reminded me that I could always take photos with my phone. I’m not one-hundred percent convinced that I’ve mastered phone photos, but decided it was better than nothing. This meant, however, less time focusing on photos and more time focusing on us. And that got me thinking about time. We were on a bit of a time crunch today, but the more important thing was that we were spending our time together doing what we love doing–hiking and being in each other’s presence. We spend so much time worrying about all that needs to be done and making money to do those things. But really, in the end will that matter? I don’t think so. I think it will be far more important that we learn to appreciate what is around us and figure out how to share that wealth with others. It won’t always have a monetary value attached because as they (whoever they are) say, “Money isn’t everything.” Is money anything? It certainly doesn’t grow on these trees. Or does it?

m-community changes trail conditions

Though there was snow underfoot for most of the beech/oak community as we climbed, under the hemlocks it was a different story.

m-bare summit

And when we reached the summit of The Mountain Trail, nothing but bare ground due to its southwest orientation.

m-summit phone

We sat on a rock and enjoyed the sun while absorbing the view below and beyond. With the phone I captured the moment.

m-view

And then I pulled out my camera again. Determination is the name of my game. Turns out I’d been wearing mittens as we began and my big muffs must have hit the wrong setting–creating a 10-second time lapse. Had we wanted to pose for a photo we would have been all set but that’s not our style. Hardly a selfie in our photo album. It is curious to notice the difference in color and wider range of the phone photo. But I prefer my Canon.

m-trailing arbutus

Near the summit, trailing arbutus announced its future plans.

m-connector trail

While trail maps show The Mountain Trail and Ron’s Loop, we long ago learned by chance that the two are connected via a trail down the backside. Today we reminisced about the first time we ever traveled this route and how we struggled to find our way. Though it still has its share of obstacles, it’s now much more obvious.

m-no snow under hemlock

The community changed from evergreens to hardwoods with occasional evergreens. And with that, the snow conditions also changed. We paused below this hemlock to admire the subtle transition.

m-hare

And we recalled our delightful experience of observing a hare in this very spot almost a year ago.

m-snowshoe hare scat

Today only tracks and scat alerted us that hares live in the neighborhood.

m-bobcat 1

Hare tracks weren’t the only ones we saw. All along the trail, though not quite as clear, we recognized that a bobcat had made a pass.

m-first bear tree

We also recognize dmarks we’ve previously admired on some old beech trees.

m-bear claw marks.jpg

I could almost feel the claw grasping the bark–both front and hind visible here. But there’s so much more going on with this tree. It hosts a community of visitors from big black bears to minute beech scales that cause the bark to develop cankers around its invasion. And in between–other insects and woodpeckers.

m-bear tree variety of life

It’s a tree of life even as it reaches toward death. Eventually it will fall and we will no longer celebrate its bear claw marks, but as it decays, it will leave a legacy on which these woods depend. The cycle of life. The work within the community.

Another beech down the trail displayed its form of the same gift.

m-broken bridge crossing

We reached the first of the crossings–this one still on the connector trail that once served as a snowmobile trail. For as long as we’ve traveled this way the bridge we were about to cross has been broken.

m-new bear tree

Though conditions were good, with my camera working again, my journey slowed. My guy accused me of searching for bear trees. And he was right. And I was further rewarded. I found one neither of us recalled seeing before.

m-new bear 2

m-new bear 1a

One foot atop another. Upward mobility in search of sustenance.

m-beech nut 2

It’s here for the taking.

m-yellow birch scales and seeds

At last, we found our way onto Ron’s Loop, where we turned right at the bridge and continued on. The community changed and here we found the fleur de lis and winged seeds of yellow birches settling onto their community of choice–moss upon a boulder.

m-fungi community

Creating a dense bouquet is the violet-toothed polypore community– a reminder that there’s beauty in age.

m-lonely pine

And beauty in singleness.

m-deer browse 2

We’re in the neighborhood where deer browse red maples.

m-raccoon prints

And raccoons venture forth on semi-warm winter nights.

m-raccoon diagonal

We rejoiced in recognizing the alternate-angled pattern of the trail they leave behind.

m-birch polypores

There were always surprises. Birch polypores decorated this paper birch that masked its condition with a healthy appearance.

m-brook

Despite my caution, we made several successful brook crossings.

m-my guy's prints

And I followed my guy to the end of the Earth–well, at least to the end of the trail–though I suspect he knows I’d follow him anywhere. He’s a good guy. Actually, he’s a great guy.

We paused at the kiosk to check the map. Imagination is a necessity–no kidding. For this moment you must connect the summit of The Mountain Trail to the far end of Ron’s Loop–thus re-creating the connector trail between the two.

m-5 kezar ponds road

Suddenly we are back on 5 Kezar Ponds Road headed toward our truck.

m-hornets nest

And here we found remnants of another community that is integral in the overall system of life.

As we drove home, we paused again by Bear Pond and the bald eagle didn’t let us down. Though the ice fishermen and women weren’t about today, it knew this community to be prime hunting grounds.

As for us, our hike was quick today because we had our own community efforts to join–he had a Lions Club meeting and I had a Maine Master Naturalist board meeting. We do our best to provide support in any way we can. It’s important to us to be community-centered–even on a Mondate. And by the way–the Lions are always looking for contributions to support their eye-sight programs; and the Maine Master Naturalist Program is still accepting applications for its Tier One course being offered from May-Sept this year in Bridgton, Farmington and Mount Desert Island.

Moi–Bull in a China Shop

February 18, 2016February 18, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 6 Comments

Several inches of fresh snow topped with freezing rain two days ago and the world is transformed. I couldn’t decide whether to wear snowshoes, micro-spikes or neither. I choose micro-spikes, which seemed a good choice at the start, but not long into my 3.5 hour tramp through the Greater Lovell Land Trust’s John A. Segur Wildlife Refuge off Farrington Pond Road, I wished I chosen the snowshoes. At times the snow was soft, but other times it sounded as if glass was breaking as I crashed through it. Broken shards slide across the glazed surface. I was the bull in a china shop.

SB-sweet fern begin blue trail From the parking lot, I decided to begin via the blue trail by the kiosk. It doesn’t appear on the trail map, but feels much longer than the green trail–possibly my imagination. Immediately, I was greeted at the door of the shop by sweet fern, aka Comptonia peregrina (remember, it’s actually a shrub with foliage that appear fern-like). The striking color and artistic flow of the winter leaves, plus the hairy texture of the catkins meant I had to stop and touch and admire.

SB-bobcat1 And only steps along the trail another great find–bobcat tracks. This china shop immediately appealed to moi.

SB-bob 3 My Trackards slid along the glassy surface, so it was difficult to show the print size. But . . . it is what it is. The bobcat crossed the trail a couple of times and even came back out to explore squirrel middens.

SB-rocks When I got to a ledgy spot, I decided to explore further–thinking perhaps Mr. Bob might have spent some time here. Not so–in the last two days anyway.

SB-red squirrel print The best find in this spot–red squirrel prints. A few things to notice–the smaller feet that appear at the bottom of the print are the front feet–often off-kilter. Squirrels are bounders and so as the front feet touch down and lift off the back feet follow and land before the front feet in a parallel presentation. In a way, the entire print looks like two exclamation points.

SB-bear 1 As I plodded along, my eyes were ever scanning and . . . I was treated to a surprise. Yes, a beech tree. Yes, it has been infected by the beech scale insect. And yes, a black bear has also paid a visit.

SB-bear 1a One visit, for sure. More than one? Not so sure. But can’t you envision the bear with its extremities wrapped around this trunk as it climbs. I looked for other bear trees to no avail, but suspect they are there. Docents and trackers–we have a mission.

SB-beech nut1 And what might the bear be seeking? Beech nuts. Viable trees. Life is good.

SB-right on red maples Exactly where is the bear tree? Think left on red. When you get to this coppiced red maple tree, rather than turning right as is our driving custom, take a left and you should see it. Do remember that everything stands out better in the winter landscape.

SB-nest 2 As delicate as anything in the china shop is the nest created by bald-faced hornets.

SB-nest 3 Well, it appears delicate, but the nest has been interwoven with the branches and twigs–making it strong so weather doesn’t destroy it. At the bottom is, or rather was, the entrance hole.

SB-witch hazel flowers Witch hazel (Hamamelis virginiana) grows abundantly beside younger beech trees. Though the flowers are now past their peak, I found a couple of dried ribbony petals extending from the cup-shaped bracts. China cups? No, but in the winter setting, the bracts are as beautiful as any flower.

I have to admit that I was a wee bit disconcerted when I reached a point where the blue trail and green trail split and it wasn’t at a point that I remembered. But I lumbered on and was pleasantly surprised when I reached the field I recognized–approaching it from the opposite side than is the norm. And later on, I realized that where the blue trail again joined the green trail was a shortcut. We need to get an accurate map made of this property, but I also need to spend more time familiarizing myself with it. At last I reached Sucker Brook.

SB-lodges and Evans Notch With the Balds in Evans Notch forming the backdrop, the brook is home to numerous beaver lodges, including these two.

SB-lodge and layers Layers speak of generations and relationships.

SB-two lodges 1 Close proximity mimics the mountain backdrop.

Old and new efforts mark return attempts.

SB-cove beaver trees And sometimes, I just have to wonder–how does this tree continue to stand?

SB-near outlet leatherleaf fields forever Leatherleaf fields forever.

SB-leatherleaf buds Spring is in the offing.

SB-wintergreen 2 Wintergreen offers its own sign of the season to come.

SB-hemlock stump et al In the meantime, it’s still winter and this hemlock stump with a display of old hemlock varnish shelf (Ganoderma tsugae) caught my eye. By now, I was on the green trail.

SB-grouse 2 But it’s what I saw in the hollow under the stump, where another tree presumably served as a nursery and has since rotted away, that made me think about how this year’s lack of snow has affected wild life. In the center is ruffed grouse scat. Typically, ruffed grouse burrow into snow on a cold winter night. Snow acts as an insulator and hides the bird from predators. I found numerous coyote and bobcat tracks today. It seems that a bird made use of the stump as a hiding spot–though not for long or there would have been much more scat.

On the backside of the stump, more ruffed grouse scat white-washed with uric acid.

SB-hemlock grouse prints Apparently it circled the area before flying off.

Moments later I startled a ruffed grouse in a tree while I observed turkey tracks. Though their prints and scat appear to be similar–turkeys are soooo much bigger in all respects.

SB-sweet fern end of green trail

My trek ended in the same manner that it began–with sweet-fern offering a graceful stance despite my bull in a china shop approach.

Pure Bliss Mondate

February 1, 2016February 1, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

It took us a while to get our act together today, but finally we heard the call from the Ledges Trail up Pleasant Mountain. Since it was late morning, we packed a lunch. Very late morning. 11:30 a.m. start.

And a very warm day. February first and the temperature is 53˚ in western Maine. Unreal. The breeze was downright balmy and more reminiscent of a spring day. Will the ground hog see his shadow tomorrow?

Trail conditions varied from mud and soft snow to slush and ice. Not a snowshoe-type of day at all. We haven’t had too many of those lately. Micro-spikes were the right choice.

Of course, I was still a slow-poke. But that’s okay because as he waited for me along the way, my guy began to notice his surroundings. OOOOh my! He started pointing out the oddities in the beech trees.

This one struck him as an elbow–well, not literally. Popeye’s biceps perhaps.

And then there were the two that joined hands in a woodland dance.

We even found a couple kissing a long gone relative.

So what causes a tree to graft? Under the bark is the cambium layer, which consists of living cells. Outside the cambium layer, the cells divide and multiply, thus creating bark tissue. And inside, they create woody tissue. The newest cells act as a two-way system–moving water and minerals that the roots sucked from the soil up into the tree and carbohydrates made by the leaves down.

In order for two trees to create a union by fusing together they have to be compatible–so a joint fusion occurs within one tree or between two trees of the same or closely related species.

Of course, the tree or limbs have to be in direct contact and under pressure for the cells to naturally graft. A dash of magic also helps.
This woodland spirit laughs at us for gawking at its relatives. But really, it is amazing and worth a wonder.

Here and there, leaves litter the trail. But this one stopped me in my tracks. Green leaves? How can that be? Another mystery.

Because the snow was melting rapidly, we found bare ground here and there showing off some treasures, like these Canada mayflower leaves. We all know that one person’s junk is someone else’s treasure–so for every person who sees this as a dead leaf, I bet there are as many of us who are fascinated by the design left behind by the vascular system and rejoice in the nutrients the leaves have contributed to the earth as nourishment for future generations.

That wasn’t the only find. I’m reminded by this sight that Trailing Arbutus, also known as Mayflower, has evergreen leaves. If today’s temperature is any indication of what’s to come, it won’t be long for these harbingers of spring to bloom. I’m not ready for that and can only hope that the woodland spirit can pass on the word that more snow would be most welcome.

Glacial striations mark some of the bare rocks. Those glaciers must have been crazy as they retreated–melting and scraping this way and that. ;-)

No matter what season we pass by this rock, water drips from it. Today, it’s suspended in a milky icicle.

Mossy maple polypores gathered at the base of this old tree while

smooth rock tripe and common toadstool lichen decorated the rocks nearby.

Lunch rock provided us a view of the middle basin of Moose Pond on the left and lower basin on the right.

We stayed just long enough to eat our sandwiches on the ledges. We didn’t have time to head to the summit. On the way down, both of us left plenty of handprints on the trees that grow beside the trail–happy to have their support.

We had an errand to run in Portland this afternoon, and then it was home again, home again, jiggity jig. Our day was topped off with a supper of blueberry pancakes coated with maple syrup while watching the Beanpot hockey tournament. Thanks to Pam Lord Bliss for the amber treat–this Mondate was truly pure bliss.

Three-legged stool

January 29, 2016January 30, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Support comes in many manners and I can’t help but think that many of us would probably benefit from having more than two legs to stand on. But then again, we have family and friends to lean on and serve as our third leg of the stool.

It’s the same in nature, where three-legged stools don’t necessarily resemble seats at all. Take for instance the tree lungwort (Lobaria pulmonaria). A friend and I stumbled across this leaf-like lichen as we tramped up and down several ridges today.

When it’s wet, the upper side turns bright green while the underside is creamy white. Today we found some that ranged from aqua to olive in color.

The thallus or body is easily distinguished by its lobed form. The ridged and pitted surface is said to resemble lung tissue–thus the common name. During the Renaissance era, when the physical form of a plant was thought to determine its use, tree lungwort’s similarity to the structure of a lung led to the belief that it healed respiratory problems.

So here’s the thing. Typically, lichens consist of two partners who benefit from the presence of each other–one being fungal and the second being an algal partner. (You may have heard the old line that Freddy Fungi and Alice Algae took a liken to each other and live symbiotically ever after). For the tree lungwort, the fungus provides the rigid structure and anchorage. Simultaneously, the algae gives it the ability to gain energy from the sun–think photosynthesis.

But . . . there’s a third partner or leg of the stool for tree lungwort–the fungus and algae live in a relationship with a blue-green cyanobacteria that helps the lichen gain energy from the sun, but also absorbs and fixes nitrogen from the atmosphere. When thalli eventually fall off trees, the decomposing lungwort adds nitrogen to the forest floor.

While this leafy growth uses the tree as support, it doesn’t take any nutrients from its host, making it an epiphyte. In our area, moose are said to feed on it. And natural dyes may be made of it.

Its leaf-like structure provides an example of a foliose (think foliage) lichen.

There are two other forms of lichen. Common button lichen with its thin gray surface or thallus and flat, black disks is an example of a crustose lichen (think crust of bread).

Beard lichen is a fruticose (think fruit–branching structure like grape branches). I don’t know about you, but mnemonic devices help this old brain.

As is our habit, we paused often to take a closer look–at the vascular system of a decaying beech leaf resembling a stained-glass window;

The false tinder conks decorating an old paper birch;

The rings of life healing a hemlock wound;

A winter crane fly pausing during flight;

A pyrola peeking out from the snow;

And a speckled alder catkin preparing for its spring fling.

We shared three hours and three miles plus our knowledge, wonder and support–performing as the third leg of the stool for each other.

Celebrating the Slush

January 27, 2016January 30, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

Another warm day and the snow has turned to slush. Not my favorite condition in January, but it does bring its rewards.

X marks the spot–at least that’s the mnemonic device we use to identify members of the canidae family. Can you draw the X in between the toes and the foot pad? In this case, a coyote marched along on the prowl. Check out those nail marks.

Some little brown thing must have caught its attention because it did some poking around before continuing on.

Though I wasn’t wearing snowshoes today, both the coyote and deer followed in my tracks–the easier to move. Which came second after me? The deer. Notice how the print is a bit more muffled and features more debris atop it. The pine needles on the coyote track have been pushed into the print with the animal’s weight.

It wasn’t just my track that it followed. It obviously traveled to and fro in its own tracks.

Sometimes mammals use the tracks of others and sometimes they use their own–where the snow is already packed down. This is almost a perfect record of the forward and back path.

An even fresher record made today–red squirrel. This one has happy feet–it avoided the coyote so far.

Though my eyes were always on the lookout for mammal sign, other things caught my attention like the spiraling scales of an Eastern white pinecone.

As the female cone of the tree, each scale once embraced two winged seeds that nestled near the core. Perhaps the white, tacky pitch on the tips is intended to keep mammals at bay. If that’s the case, I don’t think it works well, because I often see tree stumps piled high with these scales.

Mealy pixie cup lichen also decorate tree stumps. With the snow diminishing rapidly, the minute world of the lichens is reappearing. As early colonizers, they seem to prefer challenging environments. If nothing else, these goblets appear ready to be shared at a feast.

Maybe the British soldiers will take advantage and each can show off what a fungi he is–especially in that mind-boggling relationship he has with an alga.

Enough already. I’m finished celebrating the slush and hope that this wintery sky means snow and colder temps are on the way.

My Need To Get A Life

January 14, 2016January 15, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 11 Comments

About two weeks ago a friend and I exchanged e-mails about mammal tracks we’d spotted that day. His big find was plenty of bobcat tracks at Bald Pate Preserve, while mine was mink tracks by Sucker Brook in Lovell. And that’s when he commented, “We need to get a life.” ;-)

Yup. So today I did just that. With a friend in tow, I revisited the Red Tail Trail off Hurricane Mountain Road in North Conway. Our mission was to move slowly through the landscape in search of signs of nature in winter.

Oh my. Such a boring task. What could there possibly be to see? Everything is brown and gray and ever so drab.

From the start, mouse tracks show the suicide mission these little guys make each night as they scramble this way and that in search of food . . . and cover. Mice are nocturnal bounders who travel above ground for long distances–risky behavior since they are tasty treats for most predators. White-footed and deer mice have similar-sized feet and bodies, so their prints are difficult to distinguish from each other. Their print pattern reminds me of that made by squirrels, only in miniature and their long tails often leave drag marks in the center.

Here’s another favorite meal for many predators–evidence that a vole lives nearby. We were in an old logging area when we found this. While a vole is similar in size to the white-footed and deer mice, its tail doesn’t show in the track. Plus, two other things stood out to us. The tunnel in the first photo is typical vole behavior. While we received 6 inches of snow in western Maine on Tuesday, North Conway only has about two inches on top of ice. Voles are shy of sky space, so tunneling is one of their behaviors. With ice below the snow, this tunnel was exposed and reminded us of spring when vole tunnels become visible in melting snow. The other behavior of this little brown thing (LBT) that is different from its cousins, the other LBTs like mice and shrews, is the zig zag or alternating pattern when it walks. Voles vary their walking pattern, but they don’t bound like the others. The pattern is visible for a few steps above the ruler.

And who might those predators be? We found the diagonal pattern typical to the weasel family. We thought that this one was a mink, but now that I’m in my cozy den, I’m questioning our ID. It may have been a short or long-tailed weasel. (1/15/16: Changed my mind back to mink. My ruler kept sliding, but the measurements we took, and we took several, clearly indicated mink, so that’s my story and I’m sticking with it.)

Further up the trail, we were more certain that this one was a weasel, though, again, short or long-tailed is the question. Suffice it to say–weasel.

And still another family member–only a bit larger in size. Notice the tear-drop shaped toes. And the loping pattern. A fisher had recently crossed the trail. We followed its tracks for a bit and then bushwhacked back. On our return we came across a second set of fisher tracks. And then, as we backtracked beside our own snowshoe prints, we realized they’d traveled together and then split apart–perhaps hoping to find some good chow.

As we moved beside and away from the river, we also saw deer, snowshoe hare, coyote and fox tracks.

Winding our way up through the switchbacks, one other critter left a calling card.

Based on the behavior, I want to say it’s a ruffed grouse. I must admit that we didn’t follow the tracks, but grouse are also tunnelers and there’s a bit of a tunnel here. Usually I find their scat. By now, you are probably thinking that I really do need to get a life.

We laughed about how we used to not even notice everything on the ground–dismissing it as tree litter. Ah, litter it is. But more specifically, we were in the land of hemlocks and birch trees. Hemlock cones, cone scales and winged seeds (samaras) are part of the array. And the yellow birch catkins have released their fleurs-de-lis scales and seeds as well.

One of the things we weren’t thrilled to discover–the white, wooly and waxy coating that the beech scale insects secrete to cover themselves. Oy vey. This beech tree doesn’t stand a chance.

So back to happier thoughts, including the polypody that let us know it was time to head home and curl up by a warm fire–the temp was in the low teens.

Even the river rocks wore several layers.

Just before we arrived at my truck, we stopped to admire this mighty fine artist conk. It will still be there on Saturday–join me and the wonderful folks from the Upper Saco Valley Land Trust for a walk on the trail–weather permitting. I’m not so sure it will actually happen this week given the forecast.

No matter. These were only a few of our finds. There’s so much to see and wonder about and every time I visit, I’m in awe of this special place. And thankful for the life I’ve got.

Snow Be It

January 12, 2016January 12, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 6 Comments

The action at the bird feeders was crazy busy this morning–as if a snow storm might be on the horizon.

Some goldfinches managed to dine together in peace, while others displayed a midair squawk over perch choice.

The hairy woodpecker often had the suet to himself, until, that is, the nuthatches, titmice and chickadees flew in.

And somehow the female cardinal managed to pose upon a perch across from a chickadee. She never looks quite comfortable up high.

Her guy always checks out the local scene before foraging for seeds on the ground. He’s not the only forager in the neighborhood.

And beyond the feeders, the ice rink is open. Of course, if you want to use it you need to bring your own shovel. My days of being the human zamboni ended a few years ago.

I’d intended to join friends in Falmouth for a tramp today, but with the impending storm, I decided to stick closer to home. And so this afternoon found me exploring familiar grounds, wondering what I might see. What could possibly be different?

Ah, the intrepid raccoon had passed this way. I love the pattern it leaves behind, with each set of prints on the opposite diagonal.

And then there’s the vernal pool. Nothing new about that, but at the same time, it’s ever changing.

The fact that dainty Queen Anne’s Lace is filled with spiky seeds seems almost an oxymoron. A beautiful one.

The snow was just starting to fall when I happened upon the QAL. And so I continued on, crossing the road and disappearing into a familiar place–Pondicherry Park.

With every step, I needed to be mindful of where I placed my foot to avoid slipping. Though I’m weary of ice, I never tire of the formations it manifests.

I’m going out on a limb here, but believe based on the structure of the single winged samara that these are green ash seeds that litter the ground. As the wing surrounding the seed tapers toward the tip, it is straight versus the slight curve seen in a white ash. In addition, the white ash samara is wider than a green ash.

And then there is the ash leaf mystery. Leaves still on trees? Ash leaflets are not marcescent so why have these leaves withered and stayed attached to the twigs? Ah, but when some trail management was conducted this past summer, the cut branches that crowded the path were tossed aside. The leaves died then and there, thus not being “cut” off by the tree and falling in a normal manner.

Of course, the marcescent leaves of witch hazel and American beech against the blue of Willet Brook provided a display worthy of attention as the snow began to collect.

Witch hazel isn’t the only witch in the park. Witch’s butter decorates a red pine trunk.

Likewise, witch’s butter isn’t the only fungi. Jelly ears decorate a fallen oak branch.

There’s always plenty to wonder about. In this case, a very, very dead snag–leaking sap. How can that be so?

The ice lining the banks of Willet Brook crinkled and crackled with the flow of the water, adding an eerie sound to the landscape.

Meanwhile, in Stevens Brook, several pairs of mallards quacked constantly, announcing their presence.

The snow increased as I crossed the Bob Dunning Memorial Bridge and

walked past the Stevens Brook dam.

At home, it’s still Christmas. Snow be it.

Going With The Flow Mondate

January 4, 2016January 5, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

Our first Mondate of 2016 had us swerving this way and that and never quite reaching the summit. Such is the way of life–and our best choice is to go with the flow.

We drove to Hurricane Mountain Road in North Conway to begin our trek up the obscure Red Tail Trail. Well, it’s not really obscure. Mountain bikers know it well. And at least a half mile of the trail is part of the Cranmore Conservation Easement held by the Upper Saco Valley Land Trust. I’m going to lead a hike for them in a couple of weeks, so I dragged my guy along for a reconnaissance mission.

And we got lost. Fake lost once again. This time, the wrong trail–the Kettle Ridge trail, which isn’t signed. That was my first clue. The second was that we were immediately climbing and I couldn’t hear water. I’ve only explored part of the Red Tail Trail once before with Jesse from Upper Saco Valley LT so I knew it followed the brook beside Hurricane Mtn Road from the start. After about fifteen minutes of climbing and not feeling like it was right, we retraced our steps and I found the trail sign I’d been looking for–hidden behind some trees. Lesson to those who follow me–you never know if I’m leading you astray ;-)

Two signs actually within a matter of minutes and we were golden.

For about a half mile the trail follows a nameless brook. It must have a name, but I can’t find it anywhere so I’m calling it Red Tail Brook. I was looking for interesting things to share with people and as usual, nature didn’t let me down.

Water created icy legs as it cascaded over the rocks.

Speaking of rocks, I can’t begin to imagine the moment that this boulder landed beside the brook. It must have created quite a roar and thud. If a boulder rolls in the woods and no one is around to hear it . . .

My guy begrudgingly posed beside it.

And Red Tail Brook flowed behind.

Atop the boulder, polypody ferns let us know that the temperature was in the teens. Fortunately, we were out of the wind as we were on the backside of Mount Cranmore.

Life on a rock! Life rocks. And this rock is full of life.

One itty bitty piece of life clung precariously with hopes of taking hold on a permanent basis. I’m not sure this boulder is the right choice, but a yellow birch scale clings tentatively.

Yellow birches need moist conditions to germinate and grow. Moss-covered conifer logs and stumps, along with rocks offer the best chance for survival.

We were in Eastern hemlock territory so hemlock cones, seeds and scales were also abundant.

As were red squirrel middens.

It may be a single track bicycle trail, but it’s not a single turkey trail. Their oversize prints covered the lower part of the range.

From top to bottom, deer prints crisscrossed the trail.

We also saw plenty of snowshoe hare tracks. Though my guy claims he saw an actual hare, I can at least say that I knew by the signs left behind that they’d been active.

Prints below a 45% cut on a shrub and plenty of milk duds–aka snowshoe hare scat–were evident everywhere we turned.

My bark addiction is not to be denied. A wee bit of light brown between furrows makes me think I’m looking at Northern red oak, until I recognize the flattened ridges and gnarly furrows and realize I’m starring at a big tooth aspen tree. Of course, its leaves with those well-cut teeth and flattened stems serve as a banner.

False tinder conks and artist conks decorate the trees.

After lunch (PB&J, some yummy chocolate raspberry bars my sister made and hot cocoa), we left the brook behind and began to ascend the mountain via a number of switchbacks. My guy, of course, was always ahead as he appears here–disappearing into the trees.

The community kept changing–sometimes we were in a recently logged area where paper birch, gray birch and cherry trees dominated the landscape.

Other times it was a mix of evergreens, including white and red pine, hemlocks, firs and spruce trees.

And then the S-turns got serious–one curve after another. The higher we climbed, the more we realized that there were a lot of false summits before us, but a glorious view behind us.

Mount Washington and Kearsarge North provided a brilliant display.

With my telephoto lens, I pulled in the Mount Washington Observatory and fire tower atop Kearsarge.

The Mount Washington Valley spread out below us. We felt like we were so close to the connecting trail between Mount Cranmore and Black Cap Mountain, but the sun lowered and we’d left our headlamps behind. Every time we thought surely the next turn would be the summit, we were wrong. So . . . rather than worrying about reaching that destination, we decided to turn around and head back down the trail. At first, we bushwhacked together and then it became a game. We took turns as one of us bushwhacked while the other followed the trail, curious to see where we would meet. Competition took over, and we were soon running to beat the other to our meeting spot–wherever that may be. Somehow, what took us a while to climb up turned into only an hour’s journey down.

I, of course, got off track a couple of times and had to yell to my guy to figure out his location. He had the last chuckle when I chose a wet spot for my final shortcut-turned-longcut.

At last we reached the trailhead, tired but exhilerated. On this Mondate we went with the flow and loved the opportunity to learn and play together along the way.

Book of January: A Guide to Nature in Winter by Donald W. Stokes

January 1, 2016March 13, 2019 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

Book of January

I have a number of winter nature books, but one of my go-to favs is A Guide to Nature in Winter by Donald W. Stokes. My copy is old (1976–it was a very good year–I graduated from high school) and a bit weathered, but that’s because it has seen frequent use.

Divided into eight field guides, Stokes covers all aspects of winter: winter weeds; snow; wintering trees; evidence of insects; winter’s birds and abandoned nests; mushrooms in winter; tracks in the snow; and woodland evergreen plants.

For each topic, pen-and-ink drawings by illustrator Deborah Prince and the author are included in the key, as well as natural history descriptions.

The natural history descriptions are just that–Stokes’s descriptions are part of the story that Kevin Harding of the Greater Lovell Land Trust reminds us to share with others. Here’s an example: “St. Johnswort (Hypericum perforatum)–An old country custom in Europe was to hang a special yellow-blossomed plant in your window on the eve of St. John’s Day (June 24), in order to repel bad spirits and counteract the evil eye. In general, the presence of this plant was considered a good omen, and since it was thought that the plant warded off lightning and revealed the identity of passing witches, St. Johnswort was allowed to prosper around the farmhouse. It became known as St. John’s Plant or St. Johnswort (wort meaning “plant” or “herb”). When the plant immigrated to North America it left its traditions behind, and although still as effective as it probably ever was against evil, St. Johnswort is now seldom used for that purpose.” Of course, then he goes on to describe how the plant grows and the seed heads that will appear in the winter landscape.

One of the things I’ve learned from this book is to keep it simple. In the chapter about winter trees, Stokes encourages the reader to begin with the six most common deciduous trees: oak; maple; ash; beech; birch; and aspen. Learning these along with the evergreens provides you with knowledge about 80% of the trees in your forest. I’ve spent the last couple of years developing my bark eyes. I still have much to learn, but can eliminate the common species when I encounter bark I’m uncertain about.

It’s well worth taking the time to read A Guide to Nature in Winter from cover to cover–it’s an easy and enjoyable read. I say it won’t take long–unless you are like me and you pause to underline (yes, I mark my books up–even write in the margins, oh my!) details and take time to understand what you do see along the trail. I probably should invest in a more up-to-date copy, but I feel right at home engrossed in the one that I have.

And it’s also easy to turn to a particular chapter to figure things out. The simplified, illustrated keys should bring you quickly to an identification. And as I said before, the natural history description will further enhance your learning.

The book is available at Amazon.com, but if you live near an independent book store like Bridgton Books, then I strongly encourage you to shop there.

A Guide to Nature in Winter: Northeast and North Central North America, by Donald W. Stokes, illustrated by Deborah Prince and the author, published 1976, Little, Brown & Company.

Finally Flakes

December 29, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 6 Comments

White stuff fell from the sky today–a late date for our first measurable snowfall.

Yesterday, I saw a dandelion blooming in Denmark as I participated in Maine Audubon’s annual Christmas Bird Count. Today, I assume that yellow blossom is snug below about five or six inches of snow.

While on the bird count, I practiced using my new macro lens, but didn’t have the telephoto lens in my pack because it wasn’t working correctly. Miraculously, I solved that problem this morning and am back in business–taking photos with several different foci.

From the get-go, the feeders provided a source of energy and entertainment. I wonder who ruffled the red-breasted nuthatch’s feathers?

Perhaps it was a cat. Let the tracking season begin! I noticed this set leading from the barn, where we watch anywhere from one to six neighborhood cats emerge. I’m not sure which one owns these prints, but it stayed close to the house rather than making the usual venture to hunt below the feeders.

After scooping the driveway snow, I was antsy to check things out in the woods. The vernal pool is covered with slush–we need a few nights in the deep freeze to firm things up. Looks like we could hit negative digits by next week. Not sure our bodies are acclimated for that this year. Pile on the layers.

Without meaning to, I flushed three ruffed grouse–only their prints showed their presence. And my heart beat.

A flock of turkeys had also traveled my way, leaving behind their trademark signature.

I hadn’t expected too many tracks, so pointed the lens toward the snow and its presentation on a variety of subjects.

Atop asters and hardtack,

balsam fir and bulrush, each crystal clung.

Some were embraced by cinnamon and sensitive ferns,

Still others formed blankets of protection.

And then I turned my attention elsewhere. The leafy liverwort in the genus Frullania beckoned a closer look. Like mosses and lichens, liverworts are nonvascular flora.

Most are green, but Frullania is brown. As it weaves in and out of the crevasses on the ash bark, its structure reminds me of ricrac, that zigzaggy trim we used to add to sewing and craft projects.

This hornet nest always deserves an examination of structure, texture and design. Constructed from chewed up wood strips mixed with sticky saliva, this is an incredible undertaking.

Each tiny cell once housed an egg. While the males and the old queen died in the autumn, the females who mated have burrowed into tree stumps and other cozy spots to survive the winter months.

One of my favorite finds today: clusters of striped maple samaras dangling from a tree–waiting for the right moment to disperse. Insect wings come to mind.

Because the ground hasn’t frozen and we’ve had so much rain lately, I left a few slushy prints.

As I retraced my steps, I discovered I’d had company. Unfortunately, I never saw the two deer that crossed behind me. We were silent partners in the winter world.

Home again, I’m thankful for the male cardinal that graces the backyard on a regular basis. Sometimes his mate accompanies him, but I didn’t see her tonight.

It’s beginning to look and feel like my favorite season has arrived. Flakes finally fell–YAHOO!

Everything Old is New Again

December 19, 2015December 20, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 8 Comments

Sometimes my feet wander down trails I’ve traveled many times before and other times they pull me into new territory. Either way, I’m happy to bumble along.

My morning tramp began with a visit to the vernal pool. A week ago it was empty. Some rain and cooler temps suddenly mean water glazed with ice.

Continuing along, I stopped at an old gateway where granite posts mark the former opening. There is a cowpath on our property. Is this another one? Was there a barn nearby?

The split granite spoke of earlier times. Rather than pass through, as is usually my manner, my feet turned and I found myself following the stonewall in a westerly direction.

Curiously, it’s a double wall or two parallel walls, which typically indicates plowed land. That makes perfect sense, as the land was flat. But, what I noticed is that there aren’t many small stones between the outer walls as is traditionally the case. Why?

Eventually, I reached a corner, and found where all the smaller rocks had gone. They form a triangle–a common way to get rid of the little guys. I also noticed what I believe to be a well. There are wells throughout this woodland–rather curious.

Some artifacts, though rusted or broken, remain to provide further evidence that this area served a different use at one time. It now stands in tree growth and is lumbered every 30 years or so.

As the wall turned, so did I. And here I was even more confused. The wall is about eight feet wide. The reason? I can only wonder.

At the next corner, rather than continue to follow the wall, I climbed over and did some island hopping.

Sphagnum mosses display their pompom heads.

Evergreens compete for sunlit spaces.

And suddenly, snowflakes land on ice. Only flurries, but still . . . it’s snow.

At times, I was lost. Not really lost because I knew I could find my way home, but fake lost–curious about where my next steps would lead.

Among my findings as I wandered about, turkey tail fungi (Trametes versicolor), proving that they are as prolific as the tails of strutting turkeys for which they were named. And one hundred times more beautiful.

Exhibiting its winter color is a hemlock varnish shelf (Ganoderma tsugae).

Witch’s butter (Tremella mesenterica) put me under its spell. I didn’t have any pins to prick it and let the jelly juices run, thus counteracting any adverse effects, but that’s okay–I think it’s a good witch.

The ice needles are forming again, ever curious in style and design.

A different color catches my eye–deep in the woods and yet . . . and yet, the human effect leaves its mark. Don’t worry, it’s not there anymore.

Finally, I followed the deer and moose trail home, and later decided to follow a more conventional trail.

Though I explore the trails beside the brook frequently, the change is constant.

This white pine, which is actually a snag, has taken to weeping. It’s nearing life’s end. I’d cry too if my outer layers of skin were cast away as if they meant nothing.

Another snag shows off its palettes of great size–artist’s conks.

A third snag is an old favorite for pileated woodpeckers and me. I can see by the light color that it’s been visited within the last week.

Fresh holes, fresh chips and fresh saw dust.

Of course, the crème de la crème–pileated woodpecker scat filled with carpenter ant carcasses.

In the midst of it all, the inner bark of the hemlock tree decked out in its characteristic bright cinnamon red color reminiscent of the varnish shelf that grows on this species.

A false tinder conk and a tinder conk, both looking a bit like a horse’s hoof, appear ready to gallop away.

The jelly ear fungus listens attentively to all who choose to share their thoughts.

And finally, a cache on an old stump let’s me know that winter is drawing near.

At day’s end, I’m ready for the next season, confident in the knowledge that everything old will be new again.

Sunday Surprises

December 13, 2015December 13, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

As I headed into my smiling place today, I was certain that I wouldn’t find anything of interest. But this Sunday wander made me realize that the gift of wondering means being open to surprises.

I began my traipse following one of the more recent logging trails where sliding over slash is the name of the game.

I can’t wait for three feet of snow to make this an easier adventure. In the meantime, I made do.

Some moments I did think I was sinking to China–where my friend Judy Lynne would have to be on the lookout for me.

And then pumpkin orange polypores called out, proving slash is good for something. Cinnabar-red Polypore (Pycnoporus cinnabarinus) I do believe. It pays to have Fascinating Fungi by Lawrence Millman in my pack.

As is its habit, it was growing on a downed cherry log. I picked one fruit to show the pore surface beside the cap. Millman describes it this way: “Caps are kidney-shaped orange to dull reddish-orange, azonate and covered with warts and wrinkles in age. The pore surface, in the words of mycologist Gary Lincoff, ‘looks as if it had been seared by a hot iron.’ The pores themselves are usually more angular than round.” I had to look up azonate when I got home: without zones or circular bands.

Cinnamon fern grew abundantly in this boggy land and as usual, I was drawn to the drama it provides in death.

Most of the pinnae or leaflets have fallen to the ground, where their curved forms add texture and interest even as they begin to break down and give back.

Watching over all–a large colony of British soldiers, their red caps ever so bright in this miniature world.

I reached the main logging road at last. A few weeks ago I thought that the logger had finished his mission, but apparently not. That’s okay, because after I found a bunch of bobcat, coyote and deer prints, I headed back into the woods leaving the muck behind.

Bunches of white pine needles adorn many of the young hemlock trees–all in keeping with the season.

And the hair cap moss speaks of starry, starry nights and geometric designs.

But my best find of all was a total surprise. In fact, I didn’t think it was natural at first. An old baseball or tennis ball that somehow landed in this place where few venture? I touched it and it felt almost leathery. Inside, the duff was powdery. Time to turn to Millman again. I think my ID is correct: Pigskin Poison Puffball aka Earthball (Scleroderma citrinum). WOW! Look at that warty surface. And it was huge compared to other puffballs. My heart was singing. (Fortunately I kept the song in my heart though I was in a place where no one would have heard me!)

Eventually I made my way back to the snowmobile trail where I continued to wander for a while. Wintergreen is the plant of choice for this stump garden.

Bracken ferns have turned from green to a light bronze patina. Most have fallen or been knocked over. This one especially appealed to me because it has retained its structure and even portrayed an uplifting spirit.

The past few days have been delightfully, though unusually, warm, but I found some ice. And even an ice ghost.

From ghosts to witches–in the woods, I never know who I’ll happen upon. Witch’s Butter (Tremella mesenterica) is another that stands out amongst the grays and browns of the December landscape.

Not all is gray and brown. As I wait for snow, the colors of the season remind me that without its covering, there’s much to enjoy.

I was about to head down the grassy path that leads to our cowpath, when two things gave me pause. First, the droplets of water that adorned the grass.

And second–this gall on a meadowsweet plant. I’ve passed it numerous times and decided today was the day to try to figure it out. If my guess is wrong, please feel free to correct me. I think this is rose bedeguar gall, aka Robin’s pincushion gall. Meadowsweet is a member of the rose family, so maybe I’m right. Then again . . .

One last find that I always enjoy looking at–the fruits of sheep laurel extending below the leaves and reminding me of jingle bells.

At last I was home again, thankful for a Sunday wander wonder-filled with surprises.

Thinking Big

December 6, 2015December 8, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 8 Comments

A return trek to the old neighborhood off Hut Road in Stoneham left me thinking big.

J.M joined me for this exploration and it’s a wonder we got any further than our parking place beside Great Brook.

It was a sensational, albeit too warm for this time of year, December day. We could have spent all our time taking in the sounds and smells and sights as the water coursed over the rocks.

But we pulled ourselves away and went in search of a time gone by. Single and double-wide stone walls line the old road and mark pastures and gardens. Miles of walls.

And dotting the landscape–piles of rocks picked from the ground. This was farm country before the forest took over.

We called on the neighbors and were glad they didn’t mind us examining their root cellar. The only contents–old porcupine scat in the back corner.

The foundation is big and must have supported a large family. Today, it’s home to a large family tree.

It always excites us to find other signs of life–including a stone-lined well; it’s a deep subject.

The neighbors lived up the street in an equally large home. Were they related? We’re still trying to figure that out.

We paused beside Willard Brook before turning back.

Passing through rich woods, we found ourselves in the land where giant polypores and chaga thrive.

That’s not all that thrives here. Moose browse on striped maple and piles of scat were abundant.

We practically tripped over the biggest scat of all. Well, J.M. tripped. And that’s how it caught our attention. Classic. Love it.

Equally impressive in size and perseverance. And age. The sugar maples.

And because J.M. was with me, we saw things I may have passed by like the ice patterns on leaves. We celebrated hiking together knowing that the small things in life are the biggest.

Rejoicing for Jinny Mae

December 4, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 8 Comments

When my friend Jinny Mae received an ominous diagnosis in June, she faced it with admirable spirit and courage. All who know her watched in awe as she underwent treatment and slowly made her way back into our midst. Despite everything, she continued to spend as much time in nature as possible, whether observing from her chair by the window, walking her dogs or eventually joining friends for tramps. And today–she received fabulous news that I learned about as I was about to hike up Bald Pate Mountain in South Bridgton. She is in remission. INDEED!

So as I did when I first learned of her diagnosis, I took her along with me in spirit on today’s hike. I would have asked her to join me for a celebratory tramp, but it was late in the day. We’ll have plenty of opportunities.

I was on a reconnaissance expedition because I’m leading a hike for Loon Echo Land Trust next weekend. Having Jinny Mae along meant I noticed some things I may have walked by previously. In the end, I discovered a mixture of my favorites and hers.

Because there is a beech forest at the base of the mountain, and it’s located adjacent to an orchard, I’m determined to find bear activity. Is this the work of a bear that gave the tree a side-ways slap?

I don’t think so. More likely, the younger trees beside it waved in the breeze enough to create slight scars that have grown with the bark.

I poked around under a large hemlock, and noticed what I thought was old deer scat. But then I realized that some of it was a wee bit longer and had the curved shape characteristic of porcupines. As I continued to look, I saw that many small twigs had nipped off ends cut at an angle–porcupine it was.

For a while, hemlocks became my focus as I checked under each for signs of activity. On the backside of one, I found this funnel weaver web–standing strong against the elements. It reminded me of someone else.

That someone would certainly have stopped by this old hemlock stump to admire these varnish shelf fungi–it wouldn’t matter to her that they are withered and old. There’s beauty in age.

Every once in a while I felt the nudge to go off the trail and explore–when J.M. keeps track of our tramps on her GPS, the line always zigzags. This rotting log caught my attention. Bear or fisher activity?

No hair or obvious scratch marks from claws, but some scat–pileated woodpecker scat. I left it there in hopes I can show it to people on the hike and let them see that it’s filled with carpenter ant bodies.

Behind the log was this ledge. A quick look at it and I knew that a certain someone would want to inspect it.

It’s almost completely covered in smooth rock tripe. Sorta looks delicious enough to eat–if you boil it for days on end maybe. Apparently it can be used to thicken stew. Too bad I made stew the other day.

And growing among the tripe–a few polypody ferns, who also appreciate a moist, rock surface. Thanks J.M. for encouraging me to take a closer look.

While I’m on the topic of lichens, here’s one that was new to me. The rust-colored projections among the shiny brown lobes made me squat for a photo call. At home, I thumbed through my go-to lichen book, Lichens of the North Woods by Joe Walewski, and discovered that this foliose lichen is Many-fruited Pelt. Those reddish-brown projections are the fruiting bodies on the leafy margins–thus the name. One for us to learn, J.M. We’ll probably see it everywhere now as it grows on soil, moss or rocks.

And because we like to learn, here’s another–Common Toadstool Lichen. That should be easy enough to remember, given its warty appearance.

At the summit, I paused briefly to take in the views of Peabody Pond and

Pleasant Mountain. It was getting late and I still wanted to hike to the Foster Pond Outlook via the Bob Chase Scenic Loop.

And then, just as I stepped back onto the trail, I saw this print in the mud and a couple in front of it. My heart sang.

I was in bobcat territory. My favorite place to be. I only hope I have such luck next weekend and that I can pull out my David Brown Trackards to show the difference between bobcat and coyote prints.

The substrate changed a few times, but we traveled the same route.

I also found coyote prints. My hope was that since I was hiking so late in the afternoon, I might actually see one or both of these mammals, but that was asking too much. Finding evidence that they’re here is enough.

One last view–the Foster Pond Overlook. And then I followed the trail back to the parking lot, thankful to have Jinny Mae along with me in spirit as I rejoiced in her glad news. I’m looking forward to many more opportunities to wander and wonder with her.

Book of December: Fascinating Fungi of New England by Lawrence Millman

December 1, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Book of December

I never thought that I would develop a fondness for fungi, but alas, I have. Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t know them well, but am in the continual process of developing a deeper appreciation for the fruiting bodies I see and the mycelia that probes beneath the surface forever in search of nutrients.

For a beginner like me, Fascinating Fungi of New England by Lawrence Millman is the perfect guide. First of all, it measures 8 x 6 x .25 inches and slips easily into my pack. But what I like even more about this book is that Millman talks about mushrooms in a manner that a layperson like myself can understand. Combined with the artwork of Rick Kollath, whose visual cues aid in my learning, Millman compresses key points in this little book that has become one of my go-to sources in the field.

I think what I admire most is Millman’s voice. I’ve never met the man, but feel as if he’s standing beside me chatting about any particular species and telling the story. My friend and mentor, Kevin Harding, strongly advises that we should spend less time naming and more time sharing the stories of what we see in the woods. And that’s precisely what Millman does, with a splash of humor added to the mix.

To illustrate, in a sidebar about Birch Polypores, he writes the following: “Multi-faceted Fungus — 5,300-year old Tyrolean Ice Man Ötzi, discovered in 1991, had two polypores — the Birch Polypore and the Tinder Polypore among his possessions. He probably made a decoction of the former to rid himself of intestinal worms. Early New Englanders used the Birch Polypore as a razor strop; until recently, entomologists used it for mounting insect specimens; and the present-day Cree of northern Quebec (like Ötzi) make a medicinal tea from it. The Cree don’t like the polypore’s bitter flavor (due to a compound called Betlinic Acid), so they assume their alimentary parasites also won’t like the flavor and will thus vacate the premises upon coming into contact with it.”

And I love this: “Non-Gilled on Other — In this catch-all category, the species are not only parasitic, but most of them would also seem to be emulating Hollywood mad scientists in the way they transform the ‘Other:’ the Hypomyces turns a Russula or Lactarius into an entirely different species called a Lobster; an Entoloma causes a Honey Mushroom to lose its characteristic cap-and-stem shape; Rhizopus stolonifer turns a bowl of strawberries into an inedible, gooey mess; and a Cordyceps eats away at its truffle host until that host completely falls to pieces. You would think a movie producer would approach one or more of these species with a contract, wouldn’t you? Well, it hasn’t happened yet . . .”

The book is divided in an easy-to-use manner. So easy, in fact, that recently an 8-year-old friend began using my copy within minutes to identify species we found on a walk through Pondicherry Park. Sections include Gilled on Ground; Gilled on Wood; Gilled on Other; Non-Gilled on Ground; Non-Gilled on Wood; Non-Gilled on Other; Slime Molds. There are sidebars and measurements, spore prints, details about habitat and season, plus a glossary and other resources for those who want to take the next step in fungi ID.

For me, for now, this is enough.

Fascinating Fungi of New England by Lawrence Millman, foreword by Gary Lincoff, illustrated by Rick Kollath, published 2011, Kollath+Stensaas Publishing.

Chore-date Mondate

November 16, 2015November 16, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Some Mondays we’re forced to stay home and complete chores. And so it was today.

But, one item on our list included a mid-afternoon trip to Holt Pond, where we did some trail maintenance on the Southern Shore Trail.

A couple of blow downs and some stray branches required our attention.

So did nature’s art work, visible on a nearby boardwalk.

While I did a wee bit of labor, I constantly scanned the landscape for things like this birch polypore garden.

Viewed from below, it’s easy to see the pore surface.

A stump covered with deflated puffballs took me back to my childhood, when we used these as smoke bombs. I’ve lived a life well spent.

I’m not sure how I saw this one and I’m not sure my ID is correct, but I think it’s a stinkhorn. We were moving quickly, so I didn’t take time to sniff.

I loved this bouquet of Indian Pipes that have transformed from ghostly white pipes to their brown stick stage topped with handsome woody seedpods.

When we weren’t passing quietly under Hemlocks, we scrunched through shades of brown–certainly a feast for the eyes of those who create Crayola crayons and paint chips.

We paused briefly to look at the quaking bog across Holt Pond–a different point of view.

At last we reached our turn-around point in the field, which isn’t much of a field anymore. It’s a classic example of succession–an area where a disturbance (log landing) created an opening, which filled in with wildflowers that some would consider weeds. Shrubs and tree saplings have taken over and will soon create shade so the sun-dependent flowers will die back.

Though their stay here is short-lived, the flowers play a major role by decomposing and releasing nutrients that improve the soil for those that follow.

So sing your praises to the goldenrods

and Sweet-fern for the work they do to enhance the earth . . . and for their free-form structures–more of nature’s art work.

We relished this “chore” in the middle of our working Monday. And now to get that barn cleaned.

Wer-if-est-er-i-a-ing A-long

November 6, 2015March 12, 2016 ~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Thank you to my friend, Judy Lynne, who shared this word with me today. I know I do it, but I didn’t know there was a word for it. And I love that it’s an Old English word–takes me back to college days and my History of the English Language Class where we learned to read in Old and Middle English.

And so it was that today I wandered longingly through the forest in search of mystery with five other naturalists–all MMNP grads who will bring the Master Naturalist course to Bridgton in the spring of 2016.

After a tour of Lake Environmental Association’s Maine Lakes Science Center, we took care of some housekeeping items (coursework) before heading out the door. I made them practically run through Pondicherry Park–well, maybe run is an overstatement, but we moved quickly for us–not much time for werifesteriaing.

It was our afternoon tramp at Holt Pond when we allowed ourselves more time to pause and wonder.

As we started down the trail, Beth saw this snake hidden among the leaf litter. It’s the third garter snake I’ve seen this week. The day was overcast and we weren’t sure if he was coiled up because he was cold or if something had attacked him.

We stepped onto the boardwalk to view the Muddy River and it almost sank beneath our weight. The water is quite high and I suspect I know why.

Off to the side, we saw fresh evidence of beaver works.

And in the river, a lodge topped with new sticks. I think the dam down the river has probably been rebuilt.

Looking from this vantage point, the layers of communities are pronounced, with the wetland plants like leatherleaf, sheep laurel and sweet gale growing low by the river, topped by alders and small red maple trees, topped by tamaracks, topped by white pines, hemlocks and Northern red oaks.

Similar layers surrounded us with the bright red winterberries forming the creme between two wafers.

As happens each time I pass this way, I am forced to photograph the pitcher plants.

Have you ever noticed the pictures on the hairy inner lip? Do you see what I see? A woodland landscape–trees with extended branches, a layer of colorful foliage and a grassy edge leading to the lake (water in the cup)? I know the hairs and design are important for the attraction of insects, but I never really paid attention to the actual design before.

We also found more woolly alder aphids, which Joan and Ann held in their hands so everyone could get an unclose look at the squiggly insects. Rather disgusting, yet fascinating.

Even a single moment at Holt Pond translates into tranquility. (And I had to channel this moment for Judy Lynne.)

Gordon, Beth and Joan tried to keep their feet dry as we examined the plant life along the quaking bog boardwalk.

Karen spotted one cranberry and then another, and another, so everyone could sample the tart flavor. Pucker up.

Our next fun find–a raptor pellet comprised of hair and bones galore. For the naturalist course, this will come into play.

Every once in a while, I’d ask if it was raining. It was–beech and oak leaves.

While we stopped to admire several older hemlock varnish conks, something else caught our attention.

Do you know what it is?

And then Ann spotted this little tidbit–leftover from someone’s dinner. We still don’t know who ate whom. Or if it was related to our earlier find of the pellet.

What we do know is that we spent a delightful day werifesteriaing along.

As for the mystery photo–the inside of hemlock bark. This is the bark that I think of when trying to remember how trees decay–hardwoods rot from the inside out, softwoods rot from the outside in, but hemlock bark often remains. In the 19th century, hemlock bark was used in the tanning process because the tannins found in the bark preserved a hide and prevented natural decay while giving it a brown hue. At the same time, the tannin left the leather flexible and durable.

Here’s hoping you’ll have the opportunity to wander longingly in search of mystery.

What’s Next?

October 25, 2015October 25, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

I chose to walk intentionally today, pausing every few moments to look and wonder. I didn’t want to rush, always seeking the next best thing.

And so I began with a stop to admire the great lobelia that continues to bloom despite the frost we’ve had this past week.

But it was at a former log landing we can see from the kitchen window, that “what’s next” kicked into gear.

While the field beyond our stone wall is mowed once a year, this area has been allowed to follow the order of succession for cleared land. Goldenrod, asters, meadowsweet, grasses and raspberries have filled this space. What will follow?

Further along, the deer and

the antelope, I mean, moose play. No fresh bobcat or coyote prints after this morning’s rain, but I saw some scat from both. And I had to remind myself not to have expectations. That’s the thing. It’s so easy to get caught up in looking for the next best thing and forgetting to focus on the moment, the beauty and the complexity that surrounds us.

So I did–focus that is. On the big tooth aspen leaf decorated with rain droplets,

aster seeds waiting for their moment of dispersal,

a hemlock that long ago knew this forest as farmland,

an autumn meadow hawk soaking up the late afternoon sun,

the variety of life growing on a stump,

and hemlock saplings taking root.

My eyes were drawn to all manner of life growing on trees that are past their prime, from woodpeckers and sapsuckers to mosses and fungi, including violet-toothed, birch and tinder polypores, plus Jack O-Lanterns that glow in the night.

I found an older tinder conk springing forth with life as it gleans sustenance from its host,

chaga, that hardened mass of hyphae that is proclaimed to be life-giving,

mossy maple polypores growing in a wound, as is their preference,

and more mossy maple, this time covered with the brownish-gray lobes of field dog lichen, which typically grows on the ground. Huh? Creation at work. Soil forming on top of the moss covered fungi–certainly a fertile ground.

I found quartz where I expected to find only granite,

a small royal fern holding court on its own,

and the bead-like fruiting stalk of the sensitive fern.

I saw plenty of birds, including a few ruffed grouse that I startled as they startled me. This and other red squirrels chatted insistently whenever I was near.

And I saw the sun’s rays reflected by the beech leaves.

Sometimes following trails, other times bushwhacking, I wondered what will become of this forest.

Open spaces invite pioneers to settle down.

In other places, those that long ago gained a foothold continue to enjoy the view–of Pleasant Mountain.

Making my way homeward, I found myself in the presence of the birch clan–paper, yellow, black and gray–how sweet it is.

As the foliage enjoys its final fleeting moments, I intentionally move from wondering what’s next to enjoying what’s now.

Pondicherry Park Ponderings

September 18, 2015September 18, 2015 ~ lmachayes ~ 5 Comments

I slipped into Pondicherry Park late this afternoon, my heart and mind heavy with thoughts of so many friends who have suffered in recent months.

In the quiet of this place, I recalled that a wise man once told me nature is a window on the world. (RIP: Bishop John–you are missed, but still with us)

I’m not sure that what I’m about to share is exactly what he had in mind, but nevertheless, this is how it looked to me today.

Life is a jigsaw puzzle and sometimes it seems that the pieces fit perfectly, while other times we try so hard to make them work together.

Always, we dig for answers.

Being sensitive to the needs of others and ourselves is key.

Some moments (or hours or days or weeks) are diamonds in the rough–we just have to look for the glint.

Interrupted plans are perhaps meant to give us time to pause and reconsider.

Though it’s difficult to reconsider when the tangles are bittersweet . . .

and we know we’ll be forever scarred.

Sometimes we have to try our darnedest to make the most of what life gives us.

And be like this resilient tree that continues to grow despite the obstacles it met along the way.

There will always be unexpected forces at work that we can’t prevent.

We’d like to follow a straight and even path, but . . .

the texture may change and . . .

there will be a new path to follow, not completely defined.

When life gives us stones, we should build stonewalls.

And cherish beautiful moments, no matter how small.

We need to let the moments when things burrow under our skin

wash away like water over the dam.

The layers of life will forever keep us wondering.

Our best bet, listen to what the stone says.

Inside and Outside the Tent

August 27, 2015August 27, 2015 ~ lmachayes

These days, my preferred camping style is a night spent at a B & B. Not so for the fall webworms that have erected tents in the black cherry tree by the corner of our house.

Unlike the eastern tent caterpillar that makes its tent in the crotch of trees and feeds outside the enclosure, the fall webworm prefers the tips of branches.

These silk weavers eat three times a day–morning, mid-afternoon and evening. All their action takes place inside, where they defoliate the trees, leaving behind skeletonized and dried up leaves, plus their own chunks of caterpillar scat.

As they move, they spin silk, creating a finely woven mass that enshrouds the tree branches. I have to wonder–how in the world do they move through this maze of fiber? I suppose the bright side is that Japanese beetles sometimes get enveloped and thus paralyzed in the silk.

Even some of the cherries get entrapped by the web.

Though I’ve seen the webworms here for years, this is the first year that I remember the tree producing so many cherries–the resident catbirds are happy campers.

Despite repeated attacks by this pest, the tree has been growing for at least the past 23 years. Its leaves are alternate and oblong, coming to a point and featuring a finely serrated edging of teeth.

One way to ID a black cherry is to flip a leaf over and look for the rusty brown hairs along the midrib that grow close to the stalk.

Definitely fuzziness.

Another defining factor–lenticels. What? Not lentils. Lenticels. All trees have lenticels, but they are more obvious on some than others. Lenticels are tiny slits in the bark that allow for gas exchange–like the pores in our skin.

When I take time to study something up close, I begin to notice other things. My first thought for this addition to the twig was slug. But it wraps all the way around the tree and is hard–almost crystalized. It’s a gall caused not by an insect, but rather by an infection of the Dibotryon morbosum fungus. Once the fungus invades, the tree creates a tumor-like growth.

That’s not the only thing hanging out here.

I’m going out on a limb to identify these as members of the sawfly species.

And now I’ll leave you with some fruit for thought–or at least for the birds and all who gather here, both inside and outside the tent. Thanks for spreading the seeds.

wondermyway

Wonder along with me as I wander through the woods

Fungi