hiking

Finding My Way, Naturally

~ lmachayes ~ Leave a comment

The older (and possibly wiser) I grow, the more gratitude I find in my heart for all those who have paved the path for me. Beginning with my parents, who first grounded us in the natural world, sending my siblings and me out to play and not giving us limits so we could go to places like City Mission and Lost Pond to ice skate in the winter, and follow the old trolley line to the town dump or in the opposite direction in the summer, and certainly disappearing behind the houses across the street from us and down to the brook any time of the year, as well as taking us on long walks in the woods and along the Connecticut shoreline and encouraging us to learn–always.

And then there have been so many others who have crossed my path and I dare not name them for fear of leaving some out, but knowing that there were those who were obvious teachers for me, and others who I didn’t realize were such at the time, but I still came away with lessons learned–to all of them I give my heartfelt thanks.

Some lessons have involved the big picture view of the world, no matter how cold the temperature and frigid the wind.

Other lessons have been much subtler, like realizing that ice forms in a perpendicular manner and fans out behind a culvert that spews water at the formation of a river.

And then there have been reviews of old lessons, where the Black Bears leave no telephone pole untouched. The shiny numbers are invitations encouraging the bears to turn their heads and then pull upper incisors toward lower, mangling both the wood and metal.

And then to leave a signature scratch above this work of art.

And in the midst of this action, to accidentally deposit a bit of hair on the mangled wood. (Please note that My Guy was surprised that I can still feel such glee looking at the same poles year in and year out, but I reminded him that each year I find changes, including hair on different poles and this year the scratch marks on several that I don’t recall seeing in the past or simply failed to notice. What’s not to love? )

There are other old lessons that are also worthy of review–especially as once the snow flies I begin to see them written everywhere I look.

This one is the track of the Ermine or Short-tailed Weasel. I love how each set of prints represents four feet, the front two landing and then as this bounder’s hind feet begin to fall into place, the front feet lift off toward the next spot. One of the biggest give-aways to the creator is the diagonal orientation of each set of prints. Sometimes the diagonal changes, but it’s almost always present.

And just sometimes the same weasel decides to take it easy between sets of prints and goes for a quick slide, creating what is known to some as a Dog Bone and to others as a Dumbbell. I think it’s easy to see both once you know you recognize the behavior, but I can’t tell you how many years it took me to actually see this.

And then, along a wetland shoreline, another member of the weasel family reminded me that occasionally they like to slide much like a River Otter, but this being was a Mink!

And not to be left out of the scene, a Fisher (not a Fisher Cat–ah, but the hairs go up on the nape of my neck). The diagonal is there and though this was a quick shot and not all the details are visible, all Mustelids (weasels) have five toes and all are bounders.

Red Foxes also write lessons in the snow and I followed this one for quite a ways, finding a spot where it pounced, though I’m not sure it caught the intended meal because there was no evidence of a struggle.

While its overall trail was the zigzag of an animal that double packs a spot because the hind foot typically steps where the front foot had already been, sometimes the trail zags more than it zigs and I imagine he was looking for another food source.

Occasionally he changed his pace and I had to wonder why–did he smell or hear something that I couldn’t discern?

One thing I could easily discern–his territory marking. Fox urine! On a sapling. Skunk-like in odor. All classic during mating season, which we are in. Mind you, I learned this summer that Red Fox urine always smells skunky, but it’s even more so in the winter.

And I’m here to report that the Red Squirrel that crossed his path lived. For the moment anyway.

The final lesson of old, though hardly the final lesson, was the realization that some rather large prints were actually signals of two-way traffic. Do you see the upside down C in middle print? This is the neighborhood Bobcat crossing an ice bridge. But . . . which way is he walking?

Turns out in both directions. East and West. Packing the snow in one direction with both front and back feet and then following the same exact trail back. I remember the first time I saw this sort of behavior when I was looking for evidence of a Bobcat and a Coyote in a local watershed prior to offering a summer presentation to a lake association. It was about thirteen years ago and I think of it every time we hike the same trail at Five Kezar Ponds Reserve in Stoneham. First I knew I was following the Coyote and then I realized that a Bobcat had walked in the opposite direction on the Coyote’s prints. The same thing happened at Dan Charles Pond Reserve in Stow a few years ago. You can read about it in The Tail of Two Days.

Look carefully at the photo above. Do you see it? The better to reserve energy.

While I love reviewing old lessons because there’s always something new to observe or a better understanding of the animals behavior is gained, new lessons are even more exciting.

And tada, this is one. A Red Squirrel’s territorial mark.

The bark is nibbled and striped and a scent post is left behind letting others know who inhabits this particular area. This is the first I’ve found, but now that I’ve seen it, I can’t wait to locate more.

Another new lesson–discovering a Funnel Weaver Spider walking on the snow. Oh, I know that some spiders have Gylcerol that allows them to do this and I’ve seen sooo many, but a Funnel Weaver? Was it a bad decision? I’ll never know. So far, though, this is the only Funnel Weaver I’ve encountered this winter.

And then there have been sweet treats–not really lessons, though at some level everything is a lesson. But three times this past week I’ve spotted Red Crossbills–twice while participating in Maine Audubon’s Christmas Bird Count and once beside a local road where they’ve overwintered for years.

And . . . while the world view is important, sometimes it’s the teeny tiny things that need to be acknowledged–as in the case of this Snow Scorpionfly. I still can’t believe I spotted it. The snow was rather icy, so my ruler was sliding about, thus the positioning. But it’s there to give you a sense of this small insect’s size.

At the end of the day, or week, or hike, or blog post, my heart speaks a million words of gratitude to all of those who have helped me find my way, naturally.

I know I’m blessed.

I know how fortunate I am to have a curiosity about the natural world.

I know my desire to learn is a lifelong gift.

And I can only hope that in some small way, I can share my learnings with you.

The Ice Storm Cometh Again?

~ lmachayes ~ 7 Comments

Having lived through the Ice Storm of 1998, when our boys were quite young and we had no power for nine days, today’s weather took me back to that time.

During the wee hours of this morning, sheets of snow slid off the barn and house roof and landed with a thump upon the ground. And then, when we finally arose we realized the driveway was an ice rink and everything was coated with a glaze.

But as often happens when it rains or snows, the birds flew in and the feeders and ground were full of activity.

This male Bluebird, however, contemplated it all.

And then seemed to contemplate the situation even more, eyeing everyone below before deciding to fly to a suet feeder at last.

There were Chickadees, Tufted Titmice, Juncos, a Mourning Dove, Blue Jays, White Breasted Nuthatches, and this brilliant male Cardinal, all taking advantage of the feeding station from time to time throughout the morning and early afternoon.

And by afternoon, I could stand staying inside no longer, and so donned my raincoat and Muck Boots and headed out.

Immediately, I was stunned by the beauty that surrounded me. Yes, it was raining. Yes, it was cold, but it’s been colder of late. But YES, it was a sight to behold and I felt at times as if I was looking through a stained glass window.

Everywhere, the world had been enclosed in a treatment of ice and I began to notice the unique shapes and sometimes reflections that were offered. And I knew I had to photograph them so that those of you who travel with my via your armchair may enjoy and notice and wonder without stepping outside.

The Beech bud was fully encapsulated and just using that word makes me think how the ice must insulate and protect the bud just as the bud’s scales protect the leaves and branches growing within it. Encapsulate means within a protective shell and insulate means protect, so I think I may be on to something here.

The Red Maple buds were equally coated, but notice the design of the ice on the upper part of the branch, as if the pattern matches the branch’s nooks and crannies where bud scars represent previous years of growth.

And then that tip where the ice is almost clear around the buds–and all I could think of was that it had formed a snow globe without any snow.

Not to be overlooked was that frozen drip below–so intricate, so artistic, so unique as no two drips are alike . . .

Even when they fall from matching leaves.

Aster seeds were not to be left out and again, the design struck me–hexagonal in shape due to the water molecules freezing. Amazing.

And a Flowering Dogwood, with a fruit or two still attached, turned into a star at eye level.

Of course, I searched all the time that I was out–looking for insects and spiders and the Springtails did not disappoint.

A friend asked me this morning if Springtails, aka Snow Fleas, which aren’t really fleas, will be exterminated if we have a sudden freeze, which we are supposed to have tonight. I reminded him that they inhabit the leaf litter in the subnivian layer most of the time and so as the temperature dips, to that they shall return and remain cozy beneath the snow.

I also discovered a Snow Fly skeddadling across the crusty surface and suspect he had one thing on his mind: Where’s my mate-to-be? Where’s my mate-to-be?

I found her as well, but she was about a half mile from him.

For a brief second I thought maybe I should transport her back to him, but really, I didn’t know if he’d still be where I’d last seen him, or still available. And besides, I don’t need to interfere with nature (though occasionally I do) and I certainly don’t need to start a wondermyway insect matching site!

As for spiders, I spotted none today. But did see one Winter Fly that wasn’t feeling very photogenic.

Everywhere I looked, the trees showed signs of the strain from the weight of the ice, as pretty as it was. This Hemlock sapling was doing what Hemlocks do and its lead branch was bending over as is their fashion, but in a more dramatic way than normal.

The White Pine Sapling was equally dramatic and its leader also tipped over, almost reaching the snow pack.

While looking at the Pines, I began to realize that not all ice is created equal, even though at first view that seems to be the case.

But then I zeroed in on this formation, which is in the middle of the prior photo. I wondered why it had such a wide spread at the bottom, almost resembling a foot, until I realized that the ice had encased the five needles in the typical White Pine bundle, but all five were a bit splayed.

At one point on today’s journey, this was my view. And I had to have faith that it still led to Mount Washington.

And in thinking of that, I thought of my friend Faith, who is celebrating her first birthday in Heaven today. She would not have liked the ice or cold, but I know she would have loved all the formations. And she was the first to follow wondermyway.com and was a frequent commenter.

This was the same view the day after Christmas. I always feel like I could walk to Mount Washington!

And these were yesterday’s ice formations–frost flowers.

But today–it’s all about the glazing.

As for The Ice Storm Cometh Again?, on January 8, 2023, I wrote about the ’98 storm in The Ice Storm That Cameth. For some reason, a few photos are missing from that post, but go ahead and take a look.

The conditions seem prime today for a possible repeat performance. Everything remains coated in ice tonight, and the temperature, which reached into the 30˚s this afternoon, is about to take a sharp drop and the wind is going to pick up and ohhhhhh, I fear the Snap! Crackle! Pop! Crash! that we experienced back then.

Let’s hope my thinking is wrong.

Welcoming Winter With Bare Feet

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

We marked the Winter Solstice yesterday, but truly . . . winter arrived early this year. And those who have followed me for years know that this is my favorite season. The cold air. The fresh air. The creaking trees. Even the early darkness. It all makes me feel alive.

And most of all, tracking. Well, add insects to that, though tracking them isn’t a skill I’ve acquired . . . yet. And probably never will. But finding them on the snow and feeling reverence for their ability to survive (most do) despite days like today when the temp is in the teens but feels like single digits, what a wonder!

Some even surprise me by appearing on the door of my dirty truck. This is a Winter Fly and I’m in awe of its orangey-ish face with those big red button eyes.

Mind you, this fly is teeny, tiny. And still . . . it was out and about.

Porcupines have also been out and about and by their sashay fashion of moving through the snow, it’s easy to know where they are present.

And leave presents, they do! Dribbles of pee can often be found along the route they travel.

Dens can easily be discovered . . . sometimes. And other times . . . it might just be an old den, such did this old stove serve.

A peek into it and you might find a mix of both Hemlock cones that look like Porky scat, and the real deal, especially toward the back.

Large twigs scattered upon the ground below a Hemlock tree is another indicator of one of my favorite critter’s dining room.

Among the twigs with their 90˚ cuts, fresh scat stating that Porky had visited the kitchen pantry and made a meal the night before.

And at a nearby tree, I’m occasionally lucky enough to spot a chain-linked necklace, again the owner of this gem being my friend Porky, who had some fiber in his diet that held the scat pieces together.

Just when one might think that that all is enough, there’s more to be discovered, for this particular Porcupine created a few signs to indicate that this is his living room and he’s very much at home in this area.

In fact, he chose to decorate several Gray Birch trees.

To create his works of art, he turned his head this way and that while pulling his upper and lower incisors toward each other over and over again in order to break through the bark and get to the tasty inner cambium layer.

And in the process, he created a Porcupine Claw Tree! Do you see all those scratch marks left behind as he chewed? On each foot, five toes with sharp nails that aid in climbing, run across the top of the pad, and he had a lot of work to do to create the sign above, and so you can almost pick out five lines for each time he turned his foot to stabilize his body.

At the base of the tree, the thicker chunks of bark that he didn’t eat. And at least one pellet of scat.

I remember the first time I discovered bark below a Porcupine tree and I was totally confused because I always associated that behavior strictly with Beavers.

Where there are Porcupines, there also may be Cluster Flies. Who knew that they have antifreeze components that allow them to walk on snow and ice like some other insects?

This winter I’m adding to my insect and spider sightings like never before, and it’s such an amazing lesson each time I make a new discovery.

And then . . . and then . . . cuze there always has to be an “and then,” what I believe to be a Bobcat’s cache site. One day I saw a bit of disturbance in the middle of the trail, and blood. Lots of blood. But indecipherable prints.

Two days later and the area had been revisited and more disturbance.

And a Bobcat’s prints surrounding the main evidence.

That classic round shape with four toes showing. But, for the discerning eye, there is one toe on the far left that is over another toe–telling me that this print actually represents two feet! First the front foot packed the snow and then the hind foot on the same side stepped into almost that very spot.

And after that a Winter Firefly entered the scene. Notice his bare feet, but again, he’s made for winter and not made to light up the way his summer cousins do and this past summer we had the pleasure of spotting many Fireflies each night.

But I love the Winter Firefly for the orangey-pink parentheses that mark the pronotum or head shield. And the fact that they can move across the snow, though they prefer to be just under the bark on a winter day.

It’s the sign of still another that has been drawing my attention frequently because . . . that sign can be seen in almost any habitat and quite often. The “another” in this case is a Meadow Vole. If you’ve ever spotted one moving across leaf matter or plowing through the snow, you know they are like little gray torpedoes, quick and trying to go undetected.

Being one of a predator’s favorite food sources, Voles are shy of airspace, and thus tend to travel below the snow surface whenever possible. And while they are hoppers/leapers most of the time, occasionally they become perfect walkers and this track shows the essence of that in the lower zigzaggy portion of the tunnel. At least that’s my interpretation. Like the Bobcat (and canines), a Vole can pack the snow with the front foot and then the hind foot lands in the same spot. He may walk like this for a few steps and then revert back to hopping/leaping but in a super fast fashion.

As the snow melts, the tunnels become more and more apparent and I get the sense of this little guy moving here, there, and everywhere, probably on a seed quest.

Occasionally, the winter weather takes its toll, and such was this case for this Shield Bug that went belly-up. They much prefer to find their way into our homes for the winter, and so far the temps we’ve been experiencing of late, except during last week’s rain storm, have been quite frigid, and this guy made the wrong choice.

Winter isn’t just about insects and tracking, well, wait, yes it is for here is the result of another type of insect that had been consumed and the undigestible parts excreted–in the form of Pileated Woodpecker Scat filled with Carpenter Ant body parts.

Oh, and then there are spiders, but though I’ve seen plenty of them alive and moving with grace across the snow, occasionally they freeze to death despite their antifreeze and what happened here is that the spider lost a front limb and I have to wonder if the frost entered its body through the stub that was left behind. I have no proof, but it’s always good to wonder.

And how do I know this is a male? Do you see the “boxing gloves” on the pedipalps? There’s a vocabulary word worth looking up. :-)

But wait. The temperature was in the teens, with a wind chill in the single digits and I spotted the print of . . . a human being. A bare footprint. It was a few days old, given that there was some tree debris on top of it.

Of the almost six miles that My Guy and I hiked on a loop trail today, we followed these tracks the entire way.

It brought to mind this poem:

Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during
the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one
set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most,
you have not been there for me?”

The Lord replied,
“The times when you have
seen only one set of footprints,
is when I carried you.”

~Mary Stevenson

Can you imagine welcoming winter by walking barefoot in the snow?

I’m pretty sure I was carried today! And not by My Guy! Though he was beside me the entire way.

Spiders and Insects: And More New Learnings

~ lmachayes

After today’s snow ended and another inch or two had accumulated atop our already winter wonderland world, I donned my boots and cameras and headed out the back door, not really sure where I’d wander. I assumed my findings would be few because the precipitation had just stopped.

Except that is, for the snow pack growing deeper!

But . . . I was almost immediately pleasantly surprised, for there was a Winter Crane Fly, small in size with gangly legs looking rather like an oversized mosquito. As an adult, however, it doesn’t have mouth parts, for its only plan is to mate. And it only lives for a short period of time, maybe a week or two.

Why then, do all of this in the winter? Today’s temp was 21˚F, and the touch of snow even colder–I know this because I felt it several times as I placed my rulered card down for photo calls. Perhaps because there aren’t many predators at this time of year?

What I couldn’t help but notice was the stained-glass window look of its two wings, for this is one of the True Flies (Diptera–two wings), and my mind returned to Reverend Annette’s sermon about hope and joy at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church this morning and my brain and heart were smiling at this find and joy filled my whole being. We don’t have stained-glass windows in our church, but rather they offer a look at the ever-changing natural world beyond the building’s walls. A world that includes this incredible creature that has been on Earth for a time longer than my brain can comprehend.

And then the spiders began to appear, Long-jawed Orbweavers and a few others, and each and every one was on the move.

What I have learned over the past week or two is that those spiders who do venture across the snow will curl up and rest on the really frigid days, and come back to life when it warms up a wee bit. Amazing.

Well, a short clarification, for some will revive, but others truly will freeze–probably due to -14˚F mornings. I know this because I took a “dead” one home on a “warmer” day and was surprised to discover it moving the next day, but three others that I found curled up after that really cold night did not come back to life.

I did try to count the spiders today, but couldn’t keep track, so many did I spot. My journey wasn’t far, but their journey . . .

slow, with each step . . .

seeming to be intentionally chosen.

And then I began to see other friends, like this female Snow Fly, also a member of the Crane Fly Family.

Along my chosen path, I found at least a half dozen females and only one male.

Her movements were a bit faster than that of the spiders.

What amazed me was this particular Snow Fly, for it had self-amputated not one, but two legs and it’s only December.

My hope for her is that she’ll find a mate sooner rather than later because I fear if the weather we’ve been experiencing (it feels like an old-fashioned December) continues for much longer, she won’t have any legs left. Despite her loss of limbs, she still moved rather efficiently as she scurried across the snow.

And then . . . and then . . . I met another surprising member of the winter landscape. Again, a teeny, tiny member, but because I was looking down, its coloration and shape were anomalies that captured my attention and for a few minutes became my whole world.

What a dress indeed did this Acleris Braunana Leafroller Moth wear–take a look at the pattern, and those colors, and the fringe.

As I learned when I returned home, it’s not unusual for this species also to make an appearance on a “warm” winter day. Like the other insects and spiders, Glycerol, that natural anti-freeze compound that lowers the temperature at which their tissues will freeze, plays an important role for winter survival.  

Of those critters that I filmed moving this afternoon, the Leafroller was the slowest, but I didn’t film the Winter Crane Fly because though those I saw were alive, they barely moved.

As my journey drew to a close, I was smiling both inside and out, for one reason, because I feel like I come alive when it’s cold out, and two, because I had so many surprises and learnings just because I was looking.

Looking down, that is. Can you imagine all that I missed by not looking up?

There’s so much to see, even in the “drab” winter landscape and my hope for you is that you’ll find joy in making new discoveries and learning along the way.

Spiders and Insects: A Winter Love Story

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Lest you think that I spend the colder months forgetting about six and eight-legged members of the natural world, rest assured that I do not. That said, this has been an incredible week of spotting these little members of the ecosystem that often go overlooked as people tramp through the snow.

About eight inches of snow fell a week ago and in the middle of the storm, I did what I love to do. I headed out to explore in our woods. Have you ever stepped outside and listened on a snowy day? Really listened? It’s magical. The world’s sounds are muffled, except for the soft hush of falling snow.

It was while standing still and appreciating the quietness that I first began to notice these most beautiful creatures. I was compelled to check the coloration against a watercolor set gifted to me by a dear old friend. The legs of this Long-jawed Orbweaver are Sap Green Deep. Its head and abdomen: Raw Umber Deep, Greenish Yellow, and Turquoise Green Deep; and its pedipalps, those leg-like appendages near the mouth that look like boxing gloves: White Gold.

Of course, Crayola would have completely different, and certainly more creative names for the same colors.

Long-jawed Orb Weavers are also known as Stretch Spiders for their ability to spread their long, hairy legs out–two in front and two behind, when resting on a twig and blend in so well, that sometimes it is impossible to see them. Unless they are on snow, of course. And then their metallic coloration may catch your attention. Mind you, they are small.

What I can’t figure out is why they are walking on the snow on these cold days, given that their meal of choice is in the subnivean layer between the ground and snow–that being the Springtails, aka Snow Fleas, those little dots of pepper that perform circus acts as they jump around in our boot prints on warm winter days. I have yet to see any Springtails on the snow.

A few more steps and I discovered this Cutworm Caterpillar. Near this green one I also found a brown variation. While they may come to the surface on warmer days, I was surprised to find these Snow Worms when the temperature was in the low teens.

Apparently posing for the paparazzi is not in their DNA. And so I moved on.

And discovered another Long-jawed, this one being hues of brown. I’ve been thinking about these spiders all week, and actually for many years, because there are days when I can go for a walk in the woods and see one every ten feet or less. Frigid days even, which has been the case this past week.

The question is: how does a tiny critter with such a fragile looking body and legs survive in these temps? I’ve read that some spider species can lower their bodies’ freezing point by producing a cryoprotectant, Glycerol, a natural anti-freeze compound that lowers the temperature at which their tissues will freeze.  

But . . . another question arises: What happens when that antifreeze no longer seems to work?

Answer: They curl up and die.

Or do they?

You see, I’d picked one spider up and held it in my hands for a few minutes in hopes of reviving it. And met no success.

The next day I picked up another and placed it in a Petri Dish, thinking I would look at it under the microscope.

A day later, and it was walking around inside the container.

Absolutely amazing to this wonderer.

And consequently, a few more have traveled home in my pocket and I’m wondering if they’ll revive as well in the warmth of our home. If so, what does that mean? That they can go dormant atop the snow in freezing temps, and thaw and become active when the sun warms them up? I guess my biggest question is this: Why are they on top of the snow, anyway, when it’s much warmer under it and that’s where their food source can be found.

There’s another critter I’ve been encountering quite a bit this past week and it looks rather ferocious.

But don’t judge a book by its cover as the old adage goes. While some look robust, like this one, others are small and slender. Again, I’ve read this, but not observed it: they don’t eat, but may sip snow. The main goal of the adults who are active in winter is to mate.

Who is this critter? A Snow Fly, a flightless Crane Fly.

They lack wings, but do have a set of halteres, those knob-shaped organs that help with stability.

This is a female Snow Fly, the gender being determined by the abdominal appendages. Notice hers is upward curving and tapered to a point.

Do you notice anything else about her? As in how many legs she has?

This robust male’s abdomen appendages are much blunter and pincer-like in shape.

Hmmm, again I ask, how many legs has he?

While the Snow Fly in the first photo I shared sported the typical six legs of an insect (as opposed to eight legs for a spider), the last three have only five. This is due to another amazing winter adaptation:
Snow Flies can self-amputate freezing legs to prevent ice from spreading to organs within their body.

What? We say all the time, “Nature is amazing!” It truly is astounding.

I watched as this male made his way down a brink of snow on only five legs.

He was quick and rather nimble.

As he approached the leaf below, I realized why it is difficult to spot these adults before the snow falls, for then they are well camouflaged in the leaf litter, just as the Orb Weaver spiders are camouflaged on their tree species of choice, their colors blending in and stretched out shapes making them look like the twigs upon which they pose.

One last critter to share with you is a Green Lace Wing, who completely surprised me. I’m used to seeing them in the field during the summer months, and found this one on the trail just around the corner from the field yesterday.

Adults can overwinter behind bark and may come out on warmer days, but the temperature was 19˚F.

I didn’t have anything to carry it home in, so I scooped its fragile body up onto my little tracking card and carried it home, protecting it from being blown off by the wind. Unlike the spider, however, it didn’t revive once inside.

If you are so inclined to look down during a snowy tramp, don’t be fooled by some of the litter, such as Hemlock Needles with their short petioles, pretending to be green abdomens.

Or Birch Seeds that look like miniature butterflies.

I do hope you will venture out and search for these friends. They have a place in the ecosystem and provide us with one more reason to get outside and observe and stand in awe and try to learn no matter what the temperature is.

Spiders and Insects: A winter love story. For me, at least.

Celebrating New York Our Way

~ lmachayes

It probably seems odd that we love to visit the city, being the country-folk that we are who spend so much time wandering in the woods, but we do because there is so much to do and see and taste. And, after all, it’s only for a visit. But the best part–the people waiting for us on the other end, including our youngest and his gal and their friends and her family.

That said, on our first morning, we had some time to ourselves and walked several blocks to Prospect Park, where the Norway Maples have not quite given way to winter and so fall foliage still graced the sky above and pathway below.

Our intention was to walk the outer perimeter and explore some new areas we hadn’t seen before, which suddenly included Prospect Park Zoo. When in Rome . . . and so we did. We entered the zoo and had the most delightful time.

First, there was the metal artwork that greeted us, including this snake consuming a frog. I have memories of such happenings in the natural world, watching as the frog became a large lump in the snake’s “throat.”

Around every bend there was something different to see and we felt like we were greeting an old friend when we spotted a male Hooded Merganser preening.

Splishing and splashing, his intention was to waterproof and align his feathers, cleanse them of dirt or parasites, and allow him to spread protective oil from a small gland near the base of his tail, which will keep him warm and buoyant, especially important given the changing weather of the moment.

His mate, on the other hand, stood upon a log with a Red-eared Slider and we watched in bewilderment because neither one seemed concerned about the other.

It almost looked like they were two old friends sharing a quiet moment in the midst of a hectic world. And perhaps they were.

For a few minutes, I actually thought the turtle might not be real because there were some small sculpted animals along the zoo path, but then he turned his head ever so slightly.

We left them in peace and found the Emus and I immediately fell in love with their orange eyes. And though they don’t look anything like Turkeys, I felt there was a good resemblance, maybe because both have appearances only a mother can love, and this seemed an apropos bird to meet the day before Thanksgiving.

And then, and then, there was a River Otter. Asleep. Who knew River Otters took time to nap? In my book, they are always on the go, swimming and chatting to each other and sliding. Always sliding. But, of course, one needs to take a rest from time to time.

And then slowly lift one’s head up . . .

just a tad bit higher . . .

and scratch an itch, . . .

and then do the same as the ducks and preen a bit to spread the protective oils. It’s all in a day’s work schedule.

The ones who were having the most fun at the zoo seemed to be the Sea Lions. And we had arrived moments before a training session, so we stayed to watch and ooh and aah with the small crowd that had gathered that day.

They reacted to hand signals. And fish, of course.

High Fives . . .

and Open Sesames . . .

and Eye Drops . . . were all part of the program.

But maybe the best moment was when one swam to the edge, looked back at the trainer, recognized the signal to talk, and let us hear his voice.

Though I love fish, give me dark chocolates, and I might do the same.

Not to give away all that we saw, but there were Red Pandas who looked so cuddly, until I spotted the nails on their toes. They are bears, after all.

And a Pig-snouted Turtle, aka River Fly Turtle. I like the more common name because just look at that snout.

Meanwhile, the Merganser had moved to another part of the pond, but the Red-eared Slider maintained its position and I gave thanks for the opportunity to see it basking, even on a day with the temp in the low 40˚s.

On another day in another place, a place next to where it should have been, we unexpectedly spotted a Virginia Rail. Yes, we were beside the East River in Wallabout Bay, but for some reason this most secretive of birds ended up behind the grates guarding a window.

Our companions worried that it couldn’t get out, but I suspected it would as the openings were large, and could only imagine that the wild winds of the previous day had blown it a wee bit off course.

And in another place, Starlings, where I expected to find a more exotic species.

And then, much to my delight, one flew in: a Green Monk Parakeet.

I could have stood watching and photographing for hours in an effort to get to know them better, but there were miles to walk and so I settled for a few quick snaps of the camera and briefly captured their acrobatic movements.

Bringing us back to reality, were the Gray Squirrels dining and creating middens atop tombstones.

But even better than that, a Black Squirrel, the melanistic (dark fur) color variation of the Gray Squirrel. The black coloration is caused by a genetic mutation and perhaps provides advantages in certain environments, like helping them absorb more heat in colder climes.

And finally, much to my utter surprise, we spotted a Queen Bumblebee stumbling along in the crack of a paved pathway, probably seeking a place to overwinter moments before the sun went down.

It wasn’t just the wildlife that we came to see, for we had the profound pleasure of spending time in the company of four young people we are proud to call our own–that being our two sons and their gals. And together one morning, we explored Jumbo and walked below the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges.

One fun discovery was this orange cone Christmas Tree that seemed like it would look right at home in our hometown in western Maine, given that we’ve endured several years of sewer construction and road work.

After saying goodbye to our eldest, we ventured to Manhattan with the youngest and found the restaurant that inspired one of our favorite shows.

We sat at the counter where P posed below Kramer and felt like we could hear Jerry and George and Elaine in a nearby booth.

And then we walked to St. John the Divine, an Episcopal Cathedral steeped in history and never finished.

Our tour guide informed us that the original architects, George Lewis Heins and Christopher Grant LaFarge, envisioned a Romanesque-Byzantine style structure, as seen here in the Apse. Notice the rounded arches. They started building the Cathedral in 1891.

The Cathedral was partially finished in 1911, when Heins died. Architect Ralph Adams Cram was then hired to complete the work and the Nave reflects Gothic Revival architecture, his favorite. Notice the pointed arches.

Massive pillars that are 55-feet tall and six-feet across support the building and were constructed from New England granite without steel reinforcement, using techniques borrowed from the Middle Ages.

In the back of the Nave, the Great Rose Window is forty feet in diameter, with Jesus being 5.5 feet tall, despite how small he looks from the floor below. It’s the third largest rose window in the world and is made of over ten thousand pieces of glass, mind-boggling as that is.

Our youngest had signed us up for a vertical tour, and I have to say climbing up was much easier than climbing down, but I’m so glad we did it.

Each level brought us closer to the stained glass windows, which are dedicated to one of fourteen forms of human endeavor, including Labor, Medicine, Communication, Education, Law, Military, Arts, American, Anglican, Crusaders, Earth, All Saints, Missionary, and Sports.

The windows on the ground level show a variety of historical and scriptural figures engaged in a particular activity, all theme-related.

The higher set of windows show saints associated with the same activity.

Rosettes at the top depict Jesus, crowning each window and completing the progression from the human plane to the sacred and divine. He is always depicted with a cross above his head.

We happened to be there when the late afternoon sun was shining through and creating magical rainbows on the pillars.

From there we went to the MET Cloisters, where we walked the grounds and saved an inside tour for another day.

Each time we visit, we also arrange for a private group tour and this year’s locale was the Brooklyn Navy Yard in Wallabout Bay on the East River.

From the early 1800s through the 1960s, it was an active shipyard, and during World War II was known as the “Can-Do” shipyard, which employed 75,000 workers. In 1966, it was demilitarized.

According to our guide, the facility now houses an industrial and commercial complex for shipping repairs and maintenance, run by the New York City government, and as office and manufacturing space for non-maritime industries. Inside the museum one can view some of the products that call this place home.

One of the things we learned as we toured the shipyard, was that Sweet’N Low, the sugar substitute, was born and raised at a Fort Greene factory just outside the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Though the business has relocated, the iconic sign remains.

Our final tour of the weekend was self-guided, again with our youngest leading the way, and into Green-Wood Cemetery we ventured because it’s located just around the corner from the apartment he shares with his gal.

The cemetery contains 600,000 graves and 7,000 trees spread out over 478 acres, with hills and dales and ponds in the mix and as P noted, the city noises disappeared as we explored.

One of our fun finds, the pillar for Henry Chadwick and Jane Botts, he being the father of Baseball.

We also looked for familiar names and weren’t disappointed, though we don’t know of any connections at this point.

But what truly struck us is that this cemetery is one for all–for so many were the nationalities and religions depicted.

And while most of the stones looked like they were frequently cleaned, I did locate some with lichens, speaking to the fact that there is life among death. And this shield lichen very much spoke to such life for it featured the fruiting bodies or Apothecia with abundant Soredia, which are tiny, powdery vegetative reproductive bodies that can be carried off by the wind or rain to form new lichens. The Soredia are similar to other vegetative reproductive growths called Isidia, which are stalked growths on the thallus or body of the lichen.

From the cemetery, we could see Lady Liberty standing tall and holding her flame to bring us all together.

And from various vantage points we could see the Empire State Building, standing as a beacon to us . . .

almost like Pleasant Mountain and Mount Washington back home, so that no matter where we were, we knew where our weekend home was located.

Because this was the view from said “home,” the Brooklyn apartment owned by our Thanksgiving hostess.

And no trip of ours is ever complete without a tour of a hardware store.

He said he wasn’t going to go in, but you know that he did. It was a quick loop up one aisle and down the other, for so narrow was the store, but oh was it packed with merchandise–every square inch in use as is the city way.

And remember our cemetery trip? Well, I spotted this and My Guy didn’t know what the Old Guard Southern Hardware Salesmen’s Association was all about. Turns out, it has quite a history.

Curiously, I found this explanation on Instagram:

From the American Artisan and Hardware Record, June 1, 1918:

“THE OLD GUARD SOUTHERN HARDWARE SALESMEN KEEPS ALIVE ITS ORIGINAL FIGHTING SPIRIT.

“The original fighting spirit which moved the members of the Old Guard Southern Hardware Salesmen’s Association to organize for carrying on the bloodless battle of commerce was strongly in evidence with new force and application in its annual general meeting held May 29, 1918, at Atlantic City, NJ. These veteran warriors of salesmanship pledged all their energies and experience to the aid of the younger men who are waging the titanic warfare of a free people against the despotism of barbarians who hide their savagery under a guise of mechanical culture.

“Particular significance attaches to the Old Guard by reason of the fact that its ranks represent the ripened wisdom of years of active service in the hardware trade. It was formed ten years ago at the Convention of the Southern Hardware Jobbers’ Association in Hot Springs, Arkansas. The membership of the Old Guard is strictly limited to salesmen and traveling salesmanagers who have sold hardware and kindred commodities to the hardware jobbing trade in five or more Southern and Southwestern states during a continuous period of fifteen or more years. The membership is limited to one hundred.

“The men who have been in charge of the affairs of the Association for the term which ended at the conclusion of this year’s convention have exerted themselves with enthusiasm and persistence to maintain the traditions of the organization and to further the collective interests of the membership…

“Adjournment was taken with a feeling of renewed confidence in the power and purpose of the Association and a determination to use all the influence of the organization in promoting a vigorous Americanism throughout their territory to the end that international justice may be established and lasting victory be won for the hosts of democracy.”

Hardware and Democracy it seems, were both important to Herb.

So we arrived in Brooklyn the night of my most recent birthday and were welcomed with a surprise celebration that included New York-style pizza and dark chocolate cake–thanks to M and P.

We were also there to celebrate America’s grand feast with M’s family in New Jersey.

Dinner included a gathering of family and friends, one of whom is a Kiwi and this was her first American Thanksgiving feast, so she graciously wore the turkey hat.

And this little one kept us all in line throughout the day.

At the end of the day and the end of the weekend, our biggest thanks go to these two, daughter and mother, M and D, M being our youngest son’s girlfriend. Their hospitality and generosity never cease to amaze us.

Because of them, we did lots and lots of walking, while it felt like an almost equal amount of dining was thrown into the mix from bagels to farm-to-table to traditional Thanksgiving to diner breakfasts to pub meals, and of course, the iconic New York-style pizza.

Thank you, D and M and P, for inviting us to celebrate New York our way, and to S and H for making the trip from Boston, even if you couldn’t stay the entire weekend.

Meeting Each Other Halfway

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

The text message arrived November 5: “Any chance you are free Friday and Saturday, November 14 & 15? If you aren’t already booked, thinking we could meet up and hike perhaps.”

The decision was made, a room booked, bags packed, and then there was just the driving left to be done.

And voila, at 10:30am on Friday I pulled into the parking lot and saw her sitting in her car. It had been eight years since we were last together for an adventure and much had happened since then, but as is often the case, it felt like yesterday.

And so we headed off on the Oak Hill Tower Trail, with a plan to stay to the right, or was it the left, as we are direction-challenged, but really, we did know where we wanted to go and the vista spots that we wanted to experience, such as this one where we could see Mount Sunapee and Mount Kearsarge (not Kearsarge North that I’m more familiar with) in the distance. That said, I did record our journey on my GPS.

Because we were catching up as well as reminiscing about our junior and senior high school years, we let our tween or teen selves kick into action every once in a while, including by pouring water upon some dried and brown Rock Tripe. We watched with awe as the algal component of this umbilicate lichen immediately kicked into action and the “leafy” parts turned green and became more pliable.

And there were a few Winter Fireflies to admire, especially the pink parentheses that form brackets behind its head. I explained that though the eggs, larvae, and pupae glow, the adult form doesn’t light up the same as the Lightning Bugs we enjoy in the summer months.

Our next great find was a fun one for me. I’m not sure she was quite as impressed, but she did want to know where all the fur may have come from in this Red Fox scat. We weren’t in Snowshoe Hare territory, but we were certainly in squirrel and vole habitat and so it could have been a combination that helped to form this twisted specimen with its blunt form on one end and tail on the other.

About an hour and a half after we began our journey, we reached the old fire tower for which the trail was named and noted also the house where the fire rangers would have bunked when it was necessary to step out of the cab at the top of the tower (think thunderstorm).

There was also a picnic table and since we had each brought a PB & J sandwich, this became our lunch stop.

Back on the trail, we spotted some puffballs, and again the need to play struck our fancy.

And so she found a stick and poked each one and we laughed as puffs of smoke, aka spores, wafted out of the little balls.

The next day found us upon a different trail that had been part of a working farm from the 1700s until about a year ago and known as Dimond Hill. Barbed wire that once kept animals in or out had become part of a stump, which often happens when a tree sprouts beside a boundary and over time grows around the obstacle so that they seemingly become one.

So much so, that a former limb had separated from the tree, but still the wire “glued” them together.

In one section, some wee birds flitted from tree to tree and though it was difficult to get a clear photograph, I was thrilled to be in the presence of Golden-Crowned Kinglets, even if only for a few minutes.

We talked a lot about tree bark along the trails, and nature in general, and all kinds of other topics as well, but every once in a while a tree stopped us in our tracks, such as this one. In my opinion, it offered a great example of the Bull’s Eye Target Fungus that affects Red Maple bark, but doesn’t kill the tree. I explained to my friend that it offers a quick way to identify this species of tree.

And in our midst, as we hiked we occasionally spotted Bruce Spanworm Moths flying about. What I forgot to mention on Saturday was that the males fly, but the females are wingless and we should have looked about because we may have found one. But knowing my friend, now that she knows this, she will be on the lookout. So will I.

We completed a circuit of trails on one side of the main road and then crossed to the field where vegetables and animals had once been raised. It struck us as odd that instead there was a door in the middle of the trail. A locked door at that.

And then in the field below, we found one multi-colored door through which if one could unlock and pass, would lead to a circle of eight more brightly painted doors. You’ve heard of Stonehenge? We decided this was Doorhenge. Or perhaps Doorhinge.

The purpose for this installation? We don’t know, but we did wonder if the doors were strategically placed to represent compass points.

We knew we didn’t have time to hike the entire trail, but were thrilled to reach water, which I think must have been Ash Brook. What we did note was that it was an active Beaver territory.

And the work of the Beaver’s teeth as upper incisors met lower to consume the cambium layer where sugars and water and nutrients were exchanged through phloem and xylem, was well documented. Barely any bark was left untouched.

Not far from our turn-around point we reached more water and though we couldn’t find the actual Beaver Lodge, we did note that a skim of ice had formed. And the ice-covered water reflected the Bluebird day we were enjoying.

Her eagle eyes also picked up on an Eastern Newt in the water below. Can you see it in this Where’s Waldo image?

Upon our trek to our turn-around point, for this was an out-and-back trail, we discussed Paper (white) Birch and Gray Birch and my friend mentioned that she didn’t remember ever meeting Yellow Birch.

And then, as often happens, on the return trip we started to spot its curly presentation over . . .

and over again and I explained that as the tree matures it takes on a more silver gray appearance, but my friend liked that she could still see the gold in the curls.

That said, sometimes the Paper Birch trees also had a golden underbark and so I reminded her that she had to also consider how the trees peeled, Yellow being in ribbons while Paper peels in, well, sheets of paper sometimes. Had there been twigs that we could reach, I would have done the touch and sniff tests, but that will have to wait for another adventure.

We even had the surprise opportunity to greet a Maple-leaf Viburnum, a species I’d shared photos of with her earlier in the fall.

We’d given ourselves a turn-around time so that at the end we’d have a chance to sit and eat left-overs from the dinner we’d enjoyed at The Common Man the night before and soak up the warmth of the sun and try to wrap up our conversation that had gone on for almost 24 hours. Well, except for when we were sleeping, of course.

In the end, we gave great thanks for making the time to meet each other at the Halfway Point. Well, the almost Halfway Point if truth be told for I’d only traveled two hours from Maine to reach Concord, New Hampshire, while Carissa had driven three hours north from Connecticut.

I’m so grateful for this friendship that has spanned decades and that we can renew it along the trail despite the distance that separates our everyday lives.

Thank you, Cris!

Pressed to find a new mountain trail

~ lmachayes

Several friends had told us about a mountain in New Hampshire that we’d never climbed before and so we thought we’d change that situation today. As we drove toward Jackson, there were occasional raindrops and I turned on the windshield wipers, but road conditions were good, thankfully. We could see in the mountains, though, that there was mixed precipitation and we promised ourselves that if conditions warranted, we’d go somewhere else and leave today’s Plan A for another day.

By the time we reached the dirt road to the trailhead, it was really beginning to snow/sleet, and so rather than drive the 1.2 miles up, I found a good place to park, and walk up we did. Mind you, had My Guy been behind the wheel, our journey would have been different. But . . . as steep as the road was at times, I LOVED walking along it.

First, there were the over-sized Pixie Cup Lichens, looking as if they were on steroids, though perhaps it was the crisp mountain air that appealed to them.

And then some old raspberries from the Purple-flowering Raspberry bushes and I told My Guy that the first time I remember encountering them was on a nearby road leading to the Mountain Pond loop. He recalled the adventure and the company we kept that day, but not the flowers, which were in bloom given that it was in a different season.

At the base of a Sugar Maple was a HUGE patch of the Many-fruited Pelt Lichen, its apothecia the tan-brown saddle-shaped lobes.

And then there were the also HUGE leaves of Coltsfoot, an interesting plant that likes disturbed areas like this and flowers first before it produces leaves. Spotting the leaves in the fall, reminded me of the spring flowers.

And I borrowed this one from another post I wrote two years ago. Though the flowerheads look like Dandelions, the stems have modified leaves, and it really is a unique plant.

Why the name “Coltsfoot?” Because the leaves are supposed to resemble the foot of a colt.

Ah, but the best part of the long walk up this road was the fact that there were camps and they needed electricity. Well, the poles were there. And the wires were there. But over and over again, we discovered the wires were on the ground, buried under the leaves and it seemed like they’d been down for a long time.

What intrigued me though? I mean, seriously, a telephone pole in the middle of the woods interests a so-called naturalist? YUP! All of those marks you see below the mangled number are the bite marks and scratch marks of a Black Bear. The bear turns its head to the side and then scrapes the bark with its upper incisors coming to meet its lower incisors.

In the process of doing this, it usually has its back to the pole as it might be leaving a scent or at least getting a good scratch out of it.

And in the process, some bear hair gets stuck. Yes, that’s bear hair. It’s bleached out from the sun, indicating this was deposited at least six months or more ago.

As we continued up, every pole became my friend. My Guy is used to this and so he patiently waited while I gave them the once over.

And again I was rewarded, this one being with black hair, indicating it was a more recent deposit.

I could have turned around then and headed home.

But we didn’t because we’d finally reached the trailhead, which is located on historic Hayes Farm, dating back to the early 1800s, and My Guy was sure he must have some ownership in the land.

Like a few views during our trip to Virginia last week, any mountains beyond were obscured in the moment.

Across the field and then into the woods we ventured, our footsteps being the first to make an impression in the snow.

For much of it, as we followed one switchback to the next, the trail was moderate and then it got a bit more challenging, especially with snow thrown into the mix.

We’d read that there were six switchbacks, but we counted several more. With each one, I’d ask My Guy what the number represented at the pizza joint he worked at when he was in college–1 being plain, two-green pepper, three-onion, four–green pepper and onion, and so it went. If you meet him, throw a number at him and stand in awe as he shares a flavor. Of course, we can’t check the facts so have to trust that he’s not making it up. But then again, I know this guy, and he’s not.

We were almost to the summit, where we knew we wouldn’t have a view, but saw a spur trail and decided to follow it. About twenty feet later we stood behind a boulder and looked out at the Presidential Range.

Like two days ago, it was another super windy day, and we could see the trees sway a bit above us, but felt rather protected in the woods. And at this boulder, it was the same and so we decided to turn it into lunch rock. There was no where to sit, and so we stood and ate our sandwiches, enjoying the view before continuing on.

A short time later, we reached the summit, and as expected there was no view of the surrounding mountains. But we did find the Geological Survey Marker and recalled being on a mountain in Maine when a woman hiked up to said marker, taped it with her hiking poles, told us she was on a mission to touch as many as possible, turned around and proceeded down the mountain. To us, it felt like she was missing a lot, but to her, it was what she did and who were we to dispute that.

The summit was once the site of a fire tower, back in the day when that was the means to spot smoke or flames in the woods. Now, the four cement stanchions and some boards are all that remain, but we did wonder about work to build this one and so many others like it. That said, I’d read that the original trail up this mountain was rather a straight line, and perhaps that made it easier to get materials to the top.

From the summit, there was another .7 miles to go to reach a ledge with a view and an old mine, but we had set a turn-around time because My Guy had a commitment later in the afternoon, so we went a wee bit in that direction and then decided to save the rest of the journey for another day. We really liked this trail and want to visit it in a different season and complete the entire length of it.

On the way down, a few things captured our attention that we’d missed on the way up, including these two trees that intertwined.

And the midden (trash pile) of a Red Squirrel, who had popped out to dine between our ascent and descent.

On the same downed tree, we spotted the squirrel’s track pattern and that of Juncos which flitted about in the trees as we passed by.

And back at Hayes Farm, which is protected by a conservation easement with Upper Saco Valley Land Trust, conditions had changed and the mountains came into view.

As we headed back down the road for that final 1.2 miles, giving us a 6.5 mile round trip, I continued to check the telephone poles, and then across a ditch, this colorful sight captured my attention. What in the world could show off these colors in November. My mind quickly scanned my knowledge, which isn’t always up to par when it comes to flowers, but nothing registered. Until I took a closer look by crossing the ditch. And touched the petals and leaves. Um. They weren’t real! So strange. They were well embedded in the sidewall of the ditch. But why? We’ll never know.

What we did know is that we’d been pressed to find a new mountain trail and Iron Mountain did the trick. Guffaw. Did you catch what I did there?

Above and Below: a few wonders from skyline

~ lmachayes ~ 3 Comments

Grab a cuppa your favorite beverage cuze this is gonna be a long one.

We haven’t taken a vacation in the past two years, but this past week changed that . . . thankfully. It was rather a last minute decision and the Wednesday evening prior to our Sunday afternoon departure found us booking places to stay and suddenly it felt real.

And then it was.

After a long drive, which we split up with a stay in Scranton, Pennsylvania, where we kept looking for the truck carrying “30,000 pounds of … bananas,” we pulled into Front Royal, Virginia, and vacation really began.

Our intention was to drive along Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park and hike as many trails as we could fit into five days. Thankfully, our friend Kimmy had given us a bunch of suggestions, and the rangers at the Visitor Centers had maps for each one.

On each of the trails we hiked, metal bands on the trail markers were stamped with the direction and mileage, and after not paying attention on Day 2, and finding ourselves at least a half mile beyond the point where we should have been looping around, we had to backtrack, and learned our lesson. Always check first before proceeding.

Had we looked, rather than thinking that we knew better, we would have discovered that the trail was to the right.

But it was a loop, so we thought we would end up back in the same spot. The laugh was on us. And laugh we did.

The trails we followed varied from easiest to moderate to difficult with somewhat steep sections or scrambles, and we loved the variety . . . underfoot and in the shrubs and trees, but more on that in a wee bit.

Many had outlooks where we could enjoy the view, but one in particular, reminded us to look, that being White Oak Trail.

As the week went on, it was fun to note how the foliage changed. When we first arrived, the view at Compton Gap was that of a November tapestry . . . golds and greens and oranges and rusts . . . just a bit past peak. By the end of the week, after a windy, rainy period, many trees had lost their leaves.

The next day, though we drove up the long and windy road and through Mary’s Tunnel, it was said rain that greeted us.

On that day and on and off the next, how far Was forever?

Not very.

Even from the stone look-out at the summit of Stony Man, all was obscured.

But . . . we weren’t the only ones making the trek, and as we met other hikers along the way, we all chuckled about the lack of a view.

It didn’t really matter. We were there to hike, and that we did. And to enjoy each other’s company, and perhaps the lack of view put the emphasis on the latter focus.

There were other days or even moments on the same days, when we could see Forever, and gained a better understanding of the local topography.

And sometimes we followed water, the very sound of which gladdened our hearts because it’s been so dry not only in New England, but also in the mid-Atlantic states, maybe more so, and the rain was welcomed by all.

It even offered instant showers and since we were on and off the Appalachian Trail, we suspected thru-hikers might enjoy this very spot where the water poured down as a gift from above.

By week’s end, we had three favorite hikes, this one being to Dark Hollow Falls.

And then with two friends to White Oak Falls we discovered another favorite. I must admit that though this photo was taken with my camera, I let my friend, Kimmy, do the dirty work as the rocks she climbed over daunted me, especially as the wind roared.

The view also included much smaller sightings, like this Shaggy Soldier (Galinsoga quadriradiata), a curious little plant that was still in bloom along many of the trails. From a Botany in Scotland Blog, I read that “The genus Galinsoga is named after Ignacio Mariano Martinez de Galinsoga (1756- 1797). He was a famous physician in Spain’s royal court and is remembered most for writing a book about the health hazards of wearing corsets.” I’m not sure that answers the question of why the common name, but I do know that I completely agree with him about the health hazards of wearing corsets.

My heart nearly split in two when I spotted these Chestnut Oak leaves. A friend recently saw one of these in Portland, Maine, but this was my first introduction to the species.

The mature bark is a combination of ridges and furrows, with a blocky presentation.

As I continued to meet new trees, I was thrilled and challenged and so purchased a Pocket Naturalist® Guide of Virginia Trees & Wildflowers.

My next introduction was to Sassafras, with its tulip-like, three-lobed leaves. There were so many on the ground, that they became part of the scenery along some trails.

And on Day 2, yes, it was chilly, but I took the opportunity to honor a Sassafras with a hug. That was one huge tree.

Again, the bark had ridges and furrows, though it wasn’t blocky like the Chestnut Oak. But . . . I could have easily thought it was an Ash. In hindsight, however, we didn’t encounter any Ash trees.

Though I have met the American Sycamore before, in fact, there used to be a large one in a neighboring town and for all I know it may still grow there. it was still fun to get a sense of the size of the leaves.

And then there was the Eastern Cottonwood, a cousin of our Aspens (Poplars), and I could only imagine all of the fluff along the Hawksbill Greenway in Luray, where this tree grew.

By its bark, I never would have known it, but fortunately, there was a sign below it that indicated it was a Cottonwood. I love signs!

Again, any of the barks we met all looked the same, at least during our brief encounters, so I was grateful for leaves that helped me differentiate them.

Others from away have mentioned Pawpaw, but this was my first time seeing the leaves that are widest at the middle.

They seemed to grow in clumps or groves and I wondered if they were all from seeds or is some root sprouting had also taken place. They reminded me of American Beech, which can do both and quickly fill an area where the sun shines.

One that I had never even heard of was the Princess-tree, and it had leaves the size of umbrellas. I’ve since read both pros and cons about this tree and you can do the same and make up your own mind about it, but it was certainly a surprise to meet it.

Almost last was one we found at the Shenandoah Heritage Village Museum. Again, I’ve heard of it, but this was a first time seeing it. My what long needles.

At about eight inches, each packet of three led me to identify it as a Loblolly Pine. I am sooo grateful that I purchased that guide.

So here’s the thing about the conifers. For a couple of days we met only deciduous trees, and most of them were the species I mentioned above. And then, as we went higher in elevation, we began to meet a few Eastern Hemlocks and White Pines and many of the trees we are familiar with in our woods. My Guy even noticed the various communities, and along some trails Mountain Laurel grew almost like a hedge.

I’ve saved this particular leaf for last in the tree section of this blog. Oh, believe me, I have plenty more to say. But this skinny leaf that My Guy held for me, is another Oak species.

We only knew about it because on our rainy day hike, when we turned around from a mountain adventure and decided instead to explore in Luray, we discovered this sign along the Hawksbill Greenway, a two-mile trail through town.

We looked up the hill from the sign and didn’t spot anything that looked different. After we’d walked to both ends of the trail and back to our starting point in the middle, we headed up one street that led us to the next, and then one more because we had spotted something that we thought just might be the champion.

Meet the Chinkapin Oak. Born about 1775, think about all that this tree has witnessed. I wanted to hug it, but refrained because I didn’t want to accidentally introduce something to it. For example, what if I had teeny aphids on my mittens that I wasn’t aware were there from having touched other trees? No, instead, I just stood in awe of this mighty giant. We both did, actually.

Returning to the trails, sometimes we came upon historic sites, this one being the Fox family graveyard.

Lemuel F. Fox died in 1916 at the advanced age of 78. That’s actually an incredible feat.

Especially considering he survived the Civil War, where he served with the Confederate States of America.

At the Snead Farm on another trail, we discovered what seemed to be a raised dooryard and large foundation and sensed the Sneads had some money.

Perhaps the house burned down, or was taken apart and moved, but the horse barn still stands.

I peeked into each of the stalls, just because I could.

Interestingly, visitors can ride horses on some trails specifically designed for them. though this one isn’t.

It’s a place for everyone, including those with mobility issues, for the Limberlost Trail is accessible. .

And truly it is a place for everyone as we met people from a variety of states and countries, including Sri Lanka, Spain, England, Germany, Israel, and more.

A place for all also includes the critters who make their homes here. Deer. Did I mention White-tailed Deer? They are everywhere. We also spotted the occasional Gray Squirrel. And we really wanted to see a Black Bear, but didn’t have that opportunity.

Our most prolific mammal sighting, other than Deer, the Northern Short-tailed Shrews. These are not everyone’s favorite food as they emit a toxin and so are quickly dropped upon capture. Either one larger predator didn’t learn the lesson the first, second, third, fourth, or fifth time, or there are so many of them running around at night that the everyone tries to make a meal of them.

On the day we hiked with our friends, we had a couple of fun insect sightings, including this Punctuation or Anglewing Butterfly–be it either a Question Mark or Comma. It never did show the underside of its wings so we couldn’t determine it to species, but it was still a fun butterfly to spot.

Speaking of spots, we saw at least three Spotted Lanternflies. I was intrigued with their colors, but Kimmy told me to squish them as they are extremely invasive.

And because of her we got to see a Walkingstick upon a rock where she just happened to place her hand. If it hadn’t moved in that moment, she would probably not have seen it. We were all grateful that it did move. And then it posed for us.

Now that you’ve stuck with me for this long, I’ll let you know that I saved some of the best for last.

On that rainy day, we not only walked the Hawksbill Greenway, but we also went on a self-guided tour of Luray Caverns. According to the brochure we received at the ticket booth, the caverns are the largest in the East and were discovered by a tinsmith and local photographer in 1878. This diorama depicts that moment when the discovery was made.

And X marks the spot where it was made. Can you imagine the man’s excitement and amazement?

Discovered in August, we were told that the first tour occurred that November.

The cavern is a cave where Stalactite and Stalagmite meet, but in this instance that is an optical illusion. Can you see why?

There are veils to admire.

As well as a tent . . .

made of “curtains” that seem almost transparent.

We chatted with a couple of young docents and they told us that this structure is seen as something different in every season–from a Christmas tree to a pine cone to an ice cream cone, and one more that neither of us can remember. But the big question was: what ice cream flavor?

The answer: Rocky Road.

And then there were the Fried Eggs. Or oysters on a half shell?

We highly recommend a visit. I’ve only shared a few of beyond-belief spots, as around every corner there was a different formation to look at. I felt like I was in fairy land with lots of action everywhere as stories unfolded.

Back on the trails, we also had fun finds, like this columnar jointing, which turned it into yet another favorite trek. It’s known as the Fort Windham rocks and is greenstone and part of a series of lava flows, that we spotted in other places as well.

It reminded us of the Giants Causeway in Ireland, a geological phenomenon of 40,000 basalt stone columns formed by volcanic eruptions over 60 million years ago.

And so we posed.

We posed again at Dark Hollow Falls.

And then I took a shift as a park ranger. (Actually, the park rangers are furloughed under the current shutdown, so we were reminded each day to be extra careful while hiking because rescues could take hours.)

As for My Guy . . . no vacation is complete without a trip into the local hardware store.

But where my readers usually see only the back of him, he was happy to lend his almost 6′ height as a reference for this large boulder.

And while we were truly excited to spend a week hiking together, we were equally excited to share the trail with these two, Maddie, a high school senior who had the day off, and her mom, Colonel Kimmy Jennings, USAF retired. Kim was a student of mine back in her middle school days. It’s always a joy for all of us when we can meet up and share the trail, though typically it’s when she makes a trip home to Maine, so she was thrilled that we’d actually ventured south. And our pose was in front of another example of columnar jointing.

After we hiked for about four hours with them, we had one more hike to tackle bringing our total to ten trails, that being Mary’s Rock, and then we left Luray and returned to Front Royal for the night before beginning our two-day journey home with a stop over in Albany, NY and a quick tour of the Norman Rockwell Museum on the final stretch.

Like any vacation, we’ll cherish this one forever.

Above and Below, I guess it was actually more than a few wonders that wowed us along Skyline Drive and in the area.

Surprise Ending

~ lmachayes

Sometimes we follow familiar trails and other times we go off the beaten path. Well, sometimes we go off the beaten path along familiar trails. And other times, we just plain go off the beaten path because we’ve never explored an area before, and even then, we don’t exactly follow the intended route and part of that might not have been our fault for perhaps maps and blazes didn’t correspond. But in the end . . .

Wait. Let’s start at the beginning. We drove across the border into neighboring New Hampshire for a hike and though we’d never been to this spot before, I suspected when I spotted the fruits upon the Mapleleaf Viburnum, that we’d made the right choice. Usually it’s the colors of the leaves that tug at my heart strings, for there is no other tree, or shrub in this case, that exhibits these colors in combination: pinkish-red, purple, magenta, and burgundy.

But the dark blue fruits have disappeared on most that I’ve seen this fall and so I was thrilled to discover so many upon several of this species.

We followed the trail, and then went off trail, of course, for about 2.5 miles, but noted that the description of wetlands was rather deceiving. Oh, they were there, but not clearly visible from the trail and even when we did get to the edges, we could barely see the water for buffer vegetation was so dense. That said, I’m sure the water quality was good. That said, we were in an area with some warning signs about a mining operation years ago, and so the water quality must have been compromised and we can only hope is recovering.

As we circled our way out, we noted that we could have been anywhere in northern New England for we were familiar with all the plants and trees we met. And then My Guy, who does not like mushrooms as part of a meal, spotted a bunch of Red-belted Polypores, which we both admired for a few moments.

Our first leg of the journey completed, we ate lunch and then drove down the road and wandered into the woods again to locate the site of an open pit that was last mined in the early to mid 1900s.

Since then, others have tried their hand at prospecting and if you are a “Where’s Waldo” fan, I encourage you to try to locate a trowel in the photo above.

Among the waste rock dump, I was amazed to see a Marginal Wood Fern with its bluish-green leaves and loaded with sori (groups of spores) lining the edges of each leaflet. Their dark color indicates the spores had ripened, but still visible was the whitish, translucent tissue (indusium) that is kidney-shaped, and partly covered the spores.

We left that trail behind and headed off to complete one more loop. Well, we thought it was a loop. Turns out we followed two different trails that did not meet.

But, along the way, we discovered this huge bird box, a nesting box meant to encourage Barred Owls. I’ve since read that these should be in a mature hardwood forest near water. This one was located on a conifer at the edge of an old log landing. There was water nearby, though it took us some a while to locate it. Has the nest ever been used, we wondered. The Barred Owls in our neck of the woods seem to find tree hollows in which to set up housekeeping and the fact that I hear them most nights and occasionally spot one during the day, and have for several decades means they are quite happy living here, and don’t need a box.

But I digress and return home in that last thought and we hadn’t returned home yet for we had two more discoveries to make on our rather off-course trek, the latter one being the most significant.

As I said, we eventually located a wetland after bushwhacking once we reached a dead end on the trail. We would have explored it more, but had just realized that what we thought was a loop wasn’t and we wanted to know where another trail might lead in the time we had left before heading home.

Take note of the water level. Not too low. Curious.

In trying the connect dots, we returned to our starting point of this third leg of the journey and then hiked in the opposite direction. Again we reached a dead end. And again, we bushwhacked from there and came to one rather dried up wetland. Why?

Perhaps there was a beaver upstream? We don’t know. But we did spend some time exploring it.

At first glance, it was so barren and my heart was saddened for the loss of life. Obviously, this used to be part of the forest as evidenced by the tree trunks. And then it was flooded. And now it isn’t. Since the drought? Since before that? Answers we don’t have.

My Guy explored in one direction and I moved across the mud in another and met a stump garden.

In its own dried-up way, it was a thing of beauty with lichens and mosses and plants and grasses and trees all finding their niche in the midst of such apparent devastation.

On the barkless outside, I discovered a myriad of lichens from Pixie Cups to Powderhorn (now apparently called Wands) to Red-fruited Pixie Cups.

Not to be confused with British Soldiers, which do not have cups, the Red-fruited Pixie Cups brought a smile to my face due to their goblet formation topped with those outlandish caps along the margins. The red is actually the apothecia or reproductive structures where spores develop.

Beyond the garden stump was another and even another, their roots wrapped in a forever embrace.

But the show stopper was what I spotted in the mud. A track. There were deer tracks galore. But . . . another mammal or two or three had also passed this way. Note the details.

I present to you, my dear readers, a bear print. Black Bear in this neck of the woods. The smaller toe is on the left, which means this is a right front foot–their big toes are on the outside of their feet rather than the inside like ours; better for climbing trees.

Do my arrows help you to see the parts of the foot?

Bears are waddlers, which means they have wide hips and their pattern tends to be a bit of a zig zag, with a hind foot landing near where a front foot had been. Oh, let the tracking season begin.

With two white lines, I’ve tried to trace two bear tracks that My Guy is studying.

Suddenly this desolate, dried-up space, wasn’t so bad after all.

This was our surprise ending. My heart be still.

Far Winde-a-Way Mondate

~ lmachayes ~ 5 Comments

It’s been a while since I’ve written about a Mondate, and believe me, we’ve had numerous. And other dates during the week as well, but today found us exploring a new-to-us property that’s just too special not to share. And I think the owners would appreciate it. I know that we appreciate that M suggested this to us. She was spot-on correct that we’d like it.

We’d been by a trail sign on the road a bunch of times to hike other trails in Greenwood, but until M mentioned it, we hadn’t really paid much attention. Until today. The kiosk is about .2 in from the road and I loved that there were pumpkins and a ghost to decorate it. And all the information hikers need to enjoy the area. Though My Guy goes without, I highly recommend trekking poles should you go forth on the well-marked trails. They are steep in places. And rocky in others. But that all adds to the fun.

For me, the fun was enhanced by spotting examples of this pleurocarpous moss. It took me a while to learn that pleuro refers to side and carpous means fruit, thus they have a side fruit. They are low, tangled mats with branches that rise from the main stem.

This particular moss is the Stair-step Moss or Hylocomium splendens. It prefers deep shade and damp conditions. Due to the dry conditions we’ve been experiencing, this year’s growth of a new step rising from last year’s stem probably didn’t occur until recently.

There were other mosses, giving the trail a fairy-land look at times, but also abundant were the Christmas Ferns, which decorated long stretches of our route.

And not to be left out were the Common Polypody that always give boulders a bad-hair day look.

Those items would have been enough, but we realized from the start that we were in Hop-Hornbeam territory, and several surprised us. Typically, this is a tree that stands straight and tall, but a few must have been hit by other trees during storms perhaps, and their trunks had turned. Despite that, other branches took over and reached for the sun.

The other day some of us were looking at a sample of this tree and I asked them what they noticed about the bark. Their responses: shaggy and vertical lines. Spot on. Sometimes the bark is a bit tighter to the tree than this one we saw today, but it’s a great example of how this bark behaves. If you rub your hand on it, some pieces will flake off.

What I really wanted to see since we were in the presence of so many Hop-Hornbeams, were the hops for which it was named and BINGO! They were scattered along the trail, so I picked one up and slit the inflated paper-thin casing open and pulled out a seed. Such a small nutlet compared to the bouyant sac it was borne in.

The leaves are double-toothed and just as these emerged in the spring, male and female flowers would have developed. Being a member of the Birch family, the flowers are in the form of catkins, the male being longer and reddish-brown, while the female would have been shorter and green. Pollen is dispersed by the wind.

During the summer, the fertilized females form into cone-like structures, or strobiles, and their shape gives them their name for they look like hops.

I challenged My Guy to find some of these, which he’d never seen before. Knowing he likes a challenge, like counting Lady’s Slippers and looking for Bear Claw trees, I knew he’d pull through, and he did. But, he also developed Warbler Neck, for so high up in the tree does one need to look in order to spy the hops.

And so to counteract that, I suggested he look down. Success again. This guy is good!

At lunch log, we had a chance to enjoy the view and realized we were looking at Noyes Mountain, which we had hiked about a month ago.

With the camera, I could pull in the rocks on Noyes where we ate lunch before descending into an old mine below.

After circling around the summit of Far Winde-a-Way, where the views may be better in the winter, but we didn’t mind because that’s where we found some of the hops, we began our descent and noted a few artifacts, which got My Guy talking about the fact that metal cans for motor oil were replaced by plastic in the 1980s. He is Mr. Hardware, after all.

And I found a stone that had split naturally in quarters.

Well, maybe they weren’t exact quarters, but still it was worth a wonder to notice.

Another tree that we noticed as we descended was an American Basswood. The bark is similar to Northern Red Oak, but without the red in the furrows between the ridges, and the ridges are flat, almost brushed. Again, I rubbed my hand along the almost smooth surface.

I kick myself now, because I didn’t think to look for their fruits, but I did spot leaves on the forest floor. They are typically quite large, and have an assymetrical base, so if you fold a leaf in half, one base will be shorter than the other. The only other trees in our woods with this feature are the American Elm and Witch Hazel.

Next we reached a brook, where I’m sure the water cascaded over the moss-covered rocks in the spring when we experienced about fourteen rainy weekends, but today it was almost all dry, except for a few pools.

Creating a spider-web appearance on the pool’s surface were about a dozen Water Striders, so speedy in their dance routines.

And hiding at the edge, perhaps in hopes of capturing a Water Strider for a meal, was a Green Frog, with its dorsal lateral folds beginning behind its eyes and continuing down the edges of its back.

At the Cakewalk, for so a trail closer to Mud Pond is named, we met Mouth Rock. We’re pretty sure this wide-mouthed boulder ate all the cake because we never found any.

But our finds did include a champion! Co-champion actually–for the largest Eastern Hemlock in Oxford County according to Far Winde-A-Way Nature Preserve‘s website.

And I quote: The tree is: 10 feet in circumference, 90 feet tall, with a crown spread of 60 feet.

We also found this great specimen. Rock or tree? Tree or Rock? Rock and tree! Tree and rock!

Where does one end and the other begin for they looked like twins. Maybe that’s what happens when you spend so much time together. Kinda like some people looking like their dogs (we had a neighbor when I was growing up who always had beagles and he really did look like a beagle himself. Of course, we never told him that.)

Anyway, this is a Yellow Birch that got its start in the moist soil that probably formed on the moss atop the rock and then sent its roots downward and trunk upward, but really, the two could have been one.

One of our last views before heading back up to the kiosk, was of Noyes Mountain again, only this time it included Mud Pond. And our early fall foliage season. Foliage reflections are among my favorite.

I’ll close this Far Winde-a-Way Mondate by giving thanks not only for My Guy and his love of new adventures, but also for the family that made these hiking trails available so that all of us could enjoy them: The husband and daughter of the late Pam Nelson. “This preserve is dedicated to the memory of Pamela (Roots) Nelson. For more than 30 years, Pam lived her dream to protect, conserve and enjoy these woods and waters. She roamed this rugged hillside and developed a trail system steeped in the natural wonders of the Maine foothills. Today you can enjoy some of the beauty she discovered.”

Pam passed away in 2022, but her family carries on her tradition, and this poem at the kiosk was written by her sister.

Thank you to M for suggesting Far Winde to us, and to the Nelsons for sharing it with all of us.

On the Cusp of Autumn

~ lmachayes

It occurs every year, autumn that is. But this year it hasn’t even started and already feels different. In the past week, My Guy and I have followed many a trail or waterway, both on foot and by sea, oops, I mean kayak on local lakes and ponds, and every offering has been unique.

Some, such as this, being Brownfield Bog as we locals know it, or Major Gregory Sanborn Wildlife Management Area as the State of Maine knows it, took us by complete surprise. The last time we’d wandered this way together was in the spring, when despite wearing Muck Boots, we could not travel some parts of the trail because the water was so high. That was in the Time-We-Actually-Experienced-Rain. That time has long since passed and now western Maine is in a severe drought and don’t the Lilypads know it. What about all the mammals and birds and insects that depend on this water? It was an eerily quiet walk in a place that is usually alive with action.

Where the Old Course of the Saco River crosses through the bog, there was some water. But still, not enough. And we know of other areas of the Old Course, such as in Fryeburg Harbor, where there is no water.

As for the Saco, it too, was incredibly low and sandbars were more the norm.

Other adventures found us paddling our favorite pond.

And bushwhacking around another bog.

What kept making itself known to us–the fact that the trees are turning much too soon, and many leaves aren’t even turning, but rather drying up and falling.

That meant that some paths or bushwhacks found us crunching the dried leaves with each step we took. We could hardly sneak up on a Moose or a Bear, or even a Squirrel.

Despite such dry conditions, we did find the varied colors of Wild Raisins or Witherod drupes dangling in clusters below their leaves.

And Winterberries showing off their enticing red hues–ready to attract birds and maybe become part of our holiday decorations. Only a few branches for us, mind you. We leave the rest to the critters because we know their importance in the food chain.

Late summer flowers were also in bloom, including the brilliant color of the Cardinal Flower.

And in a contrast to the red, there were Ladies’ Tresses, a wild orchid, one of the few with a fragrance if you can bend low enough to smell it.

I think one of the greatest wonders is how many variations there are on a theme, in this case flowers for take a look at the Pilewort or American Burnweed, this one growing upon a Beaver Lodge.

What you are looking at is the flower heads: They are about a ¼ across and petal-less. The inner bracts, with their purplish tips form a ½-inch tube exposing just the yellowish to creamy white stamens at the top. And the seeds are teeny tiny, as you can see, with tufts of white hairs to carry them like parachutes upon a breeze.

Along one trail, we spotted another teeny tiny display that surprised us due to the fact that we haven’t seen many mushrooms this summer. But the Orange Peel Fungus apparently had enough moisture, at least to produce these two forms.

Critters were also a part of our sightings and several times we encountered young Northern Water Snakes, not more than two pencils in length.

In another spot where we expected to see Water Snakes, we instead met a Garter. Mind you, none of these wanted to spend any amount of time with us.

And despite the cooler morning temps that we’ve been experiencing, including lows in the mid-30˚s the past few days, or more likely, because of those temps, the Painted Turtles were still basking, soaking up the sun’s warmth. I love how they stick out their legs to absorb more warmth. It truly looks like a Yoga position, and I know this personally because along one of the trails we traveled in the past week, My Guy showed me several poses he’s learned recently. He also showed me those he struggles to perform.

Not all turtles were of the same size, and this was a tiny one, who stayed on this log for at least two hours as we spotted it before we embarked on a bushwhack and it was still there when we returned, though it had changed its position. And gave me a wary look.

My Dragonfly fetish was also fulfilled for the Darners and Skimmers continue to fly and occasionally pause. Well, the Skimmers often pause, but the Darners are usually on the wing–patrolling territory while looking for a meal, and even more so, a mate. That’s why it’s always a moment of joy for me when one stops and my admiration kicks up a few notches. In fact, it’s the notch in the side thoratic markings that help with ID–in this case a Canada Darner. I’ve discovered this summer that they are numerous ’round these parts.

While the Darners are on the largish size in the dragonfly world, most of the Skimmers that are still flying are much smaller. The Blue Dasher, as this is, is probably considered medium in size.

What a display, no matter how big, with the blues and blacks and greens contrasting with the Red Maple leaf’s hues.

And then there’s the dragonfly’s shadow. It’s almost like it was a different creature.

My surprise was full of delight when I realized as I floated beside a Beaver Lodge, that I was watching female Amberwings deposit eggs into the water as they tapped their abdomens upon it. I rarely spot Amberwings, and yet they were so common in this spot.

And overlooking all the action, perhaps not only to defend its territory, but also to eat anything that got in the way, a Slaty Blue Skimmer, twice the size at least of the Amberwings and Blue Dasher.

Birds, too, were part of the scenery wherever we were. This Eastern Phoebe spent moments on end looking about, from one side to the other, and then in a flash, flew to some vegetation below, grabbed an invisible-to-me insect, and flew off.

Much to the surprise of both of us, despite the loud crackling of leaves and branches upon which we walked in one place, we didn’t scare all the Wood Ducks off, and enjoyed spending a few minutes with this Momma and Teenager. Usually, this species flies off before we spot them on the water.

Even the male hung out and when I suggested to My Guy that he look at it through the monocular, he was certain he really didn’t need to because he could see it without any aid. And then he did. And “Oh wow!” was the reaction. And I knew he’d finally seen a male Wood Duck–for the first time. And that moment will remain with me forever.

One of our other favorite moments occurred on our favorite pond, where we first spotted a Bald Eagle on a rock that the low water had exposed. And then it flew. As birds do.

And we followed it with our eyes, and watched it land above us in a White PIne.

And thus, we spent a good twenty minutes with it, admiring from our kayaks below.

The Bald Eagle was sighted not to far from our favorite Beaver City–where we know of at least five lodges located within a football field-sized area. And this one above had been abandoned for the last few years.

But fresh mud and fresh wood told us that someone was home. Probably more than one someones. We love the possibilities. The mudding is an important act–preparing for winter by coating the outside and closing up any holes or airways that might let cold air penetrate. Of course, the “smoke hole” at the top will remain, much like a chimney in our homes.

Just a Beaver channel and a hundred yards away, another of the five lodges also showed signs of winter preparation. It’s a busy neighborhood.

No matter where or how we traversed, one of the things that stood out to us is that despite the autumnal equinox being September 22 at 2:19pm. fall is already here thanks to the summer’s drought.

It’s usually mid-October when we begin to celebrate the color change–that time when Chlorophyll, the green pigment we associate with summer, and necessary for photosynthesis, slows and then stops manufacturing food, and the leaves go on strike.

Veins that carried fluids via the xylem and phloem close off, trapping sugars, and promoting the production of anthocyanin, the red color we associate with Red Maples like these.

Tonight, as I finish writing, we are on the Cusp of Autumn, which is about seventeen hours away. But this year, I think it’s already here and if you have planned a fall foliage tour for mid-October I hope you won’t be too disappointed. I suspect we’ll not have many leaves left on the trees by that point.

But . . . maybe I’m wrong. There’s always that possibility.

No matter what–Happy Autumnal Equinox!

Lessons in the Shadows

~ lmachayes ~ 1 Comment

The email arrived before 8am. “‘Morning. I have a dying/dead dragonfly. Perfect condition/appearance. Wonder if you could use it for your collection. No rush if so, I’ll keep it safe!”

And so it was that this afternoon I drove to a friend’s house and received this gift. In the moment, I knew it was in the Darner family, but I wasn’t sure about its full identification. The amber wing color drew my awe and I couldn’t wait to go home and look through my guides and make a decision.

But . . .

First I drove to a local preserve and followed the trail to a favorite wetland where Yellowjackets like this one and Bees of every kind, and Hornets, and Flower Flies buzzed and flew and buzzed some more as they frantically worked on the Goldenrods and a few Asters still in bloom.

I had intended to cover some miles, albeit at a slow pace, but . . . once I spotted this specimen, I knew my plans were shot. Instead, I was meant to be in this one place for a couple of hours. And so I stayed.

And reveled in the sighting of this Bush Katydid. As I said to another friend this morning via a text message–look at the armor and color and texture and design. Of course, then, I was referring to a Two-Striped Grasshopper. But truly, the same holds true for the Katydids in our world. (Especially my favorite Katy-did! She knows who she is.)

Also in my midst–Spotted Spreadwing Damselflies. This is the male and last week, plus today, I spotted them but couldn’t find a female anywhere.

Until I did. As always, her color is much drabber than his, but still she has the more important job . . . at least in my book of how the world turns.

And speaking of that most important job, a couple of Canada Darners decided to canoodle right before my eyes. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. Notice how he uses the cerci at the end of his abdomen to clasp her behind the head and hold her in place as she curls her abdomen around to form the dragonfly mating wheel.

While I watched them, a snippet of movement caught my eye and I was forced, yes FORCED, to look elsewhere. Do you see what drew my attraction?

How about now? Just across the path from the much larger Bush Katydid, a smaller Meadow Katydid. Both seemed appropriate for this small ecosystem that included bushes and shrubs and wildflowers and ferns in the midst of a meadow.

And below the Katydid, more movement caused me to look more closely. Just this morning, another friend commented on the fact that she can’t believe the stuff I see. And I heard the same from another friend a day or two ago. I guess it’s all about tuning in–to sounds, I heard a wee rustle; and anomalies–I saw a bit of a color change. And tada: a small Pickerel Frog pausing on dead fern fronds–so camouflaged was it. Much like the two Katydids.

And about six inches away, I espied this female American Toad. She stayed as still as possible. Forever. Or almost forever. I would look away as I kept an eye on the canoodlers and then had to key back in to this site to spot the toad who was still there. I guess it’s all about being slow and training the eye to notice. Even if it’s something as ordinary as a Toad, it’s still a joy to be present and notice.

Suddenly I heard a rustling of wings and knew the sound to be canoodling dragonflies on the wing–or so I thought they were flying about. But I couldn’t see them anywhere. They were no longer posing on the fern where I’d first spotted them. The sound came from below and behind that fern, in the midst of other fern fronds. And then I found them. I don’t know why they left their original perch, but suspect another male drove them to move on. What I think happened next is that they got a wee bit caught in a spider web. And struggled fervently to free themselves.

So . . . I interfered. First I freed him and thought he’d take her along, but he flew off and then she did also. I can only hope that they found a different spot to continue their date night.

Other fliers in this same vicinity where the tiny Autumn Meadowhawks, this being a male.

His female counterpart was also posing everywhere.

They got as far as the tandem position, where the male clasps the female behind the head, but before they form the canoodle circle. That was the last I saw of them before it was time for me to move along for I had a date with another dragonfly waiting at home. Well, really, waiting in my truck for a ride home.

Once there, I studied this specimen, taking in as many details as possible. It was the colors and pattern on the thorax and abdomen that helped me come up with a name. And one other detail that could be easily overlooked. This particular species often has broken-off cerci at the end of the abdomen, a sign of maturity. Plus, it you look at the bulging start of the abdomen, below the thorax, there’s a slight blue line that crosses it, and in combination with the green markings, leads to species’ name.

The green thoractic strips also helped with identification.

The curious thing when my friend first offered this specimen to me was the fact that the two sets of wings were off kilter of each other. But as I told her, dragonflies operate the two sets of wings at different beats, and it’s especially noticeable when it’s chilly out as this morning was with temps in the low 40˚s. Pumping their wings is a way to stay warm. When she found this pretty female, its time on Earth was waning and though it pumped the wings alternately while in her hand, as she went to place it on the ground, it slowly breathed its last breath.

During those two hours I spent as the sun waned from the trail and meadow, I couldn’t believe what I’d seen, including the camouflaged Katydids, the canoodling dragonflies, and a few other canoodlers, plus all the pollinators.

But I was especially thankful for this one who taught me more about lessons in the shadows: a Shadow Darner Dragonfly.

And to K for the offering! Thank you for thinking of me yet again.

Resurrecting the Resurrection

~ lmachayes ~ 6 Comments

This afternoon I met a young girl, probably about seven years old, who patiently waited as her mother ran some laps on a local trail and because I’d just started to notice the exoskeletons of Dog-day Cicadas, one of my favorite summer insects (besides dragonflies, mind you), I started to point them out.


At first look, she stepped way back, and told me they were too scary. They are. But then I picked one off the fence and she was intrigued but still apprehensive. I explained the life cycle and that this was no longer a living specimen and then I placed it on the ground and told her if she wanted to pick it up or show her mom, I’d leave it for her.

She did show her mom and then she caught up with me again and one by one, started to point out all the specimens along the route.

Eventually the mom joined us and said she’d only heard and seen the Seventeen-year Cicadas and did not know that we have Cicadas in Maine.

They decided they’d go home and look them up and see if they could watch a video of the adults emerging.

And then . . . my little friend found one.

I told her it would take about three hours for the process to be completed. She thought maybe her dad and sister would like to come back to see them, but was sure her sister would be frightened.

Whether they did or not, I’ll never know as I’ll never know her name for we didn’t exchange such. I was just thrilled the she had the chance to see such a miracle, one of the many wonders of the world, take place and that she had spied it before I did.

A few steps later and her mom spotted one that had fully emerged, but wasn’t yet ready to fly to the tree tops to sing its raspy love song.

When we departed I thanked them both for sharing the experience with me and I have a feeling that young girl will be looking in the future. She did tell me that she likes dragonflies and butterflies and grasshoppers, but not other insects. I suspect Dog-Day Cicadas may have been added to her list on the drive home.

And now, because I can, I share with you once again my tribute to these amazing insects. The cemetery referenced is in Lovell, Maine. 

Resurrection
By Leigh Macmillen Hayes, 7/19/2020

To walk into a cemetery on a summer day
And find an insect metamorphosing upon a stone
I begin to understand the process of resurrection.

A life well spent questing sap for sustenance
Prepares to crawl free of its past
And reach for heavenly aspirations.

Through a tiny slit, a spirit no longer contained
Emerges head first as a teneral shape develops
with bulging eyes to view a new world.

Gradually, a pale tourmaline-colored body extends outward
With stained-glass wings unfurling
That provide baby steps toward freedom beyond.

I mourn the loss of your former soul
But give thanks for a peek at your upcoming ascension
From this place to the next.

It is not for me to know when you will first use the gift of flight
As I didn’t know when you would shed your old skin,
And I quickly offer a final goodbye when I see your wings spread.

I rejoice that I’ll spend the rest of the summer
Listening to your raspy love songs
Playing nature’s lullabies upon violin strings from above.

On this day, I celebrate the secrets of a cicada’s life,
Dying to the old ways and rising to new,
While I wander among the graves of others who have done the same.

And here’s today’s tribute, which still needs some tweaking, but that’s the beauty of working with gouache paints. I can easily make changes when the mood strikes.

Thanks for stopping by as I resurrected the Resurrection.

Ec-lec-tic

~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments 
Not one to ever be bored,
I follow my brain
in a million different directions
every day.
Sometimes the thoughts are broad-winged,
and even if I try to hide them,
they catch up
and stare me down.
Other times they are quick
and race through my head
in such a manner
that I can hardly capture them.
And then there are those 
that are as small as a Spittlebug
but still worth considering
because everything counts.
Some moments I get to share with others
and together we wonder
how long the Heron 
will wait before taking the next step.
In that same space named for Otters
we spy basking Painted Turtles
who remind us we don't always need to 
slip into the water and disappear from the scene.
And then the Woody Woodpeckers 
of the North Woods
Rat-a-tat messages
best interpreted by their mates and I can only listen.
They may get a wee bit ruffled
in their Pileated fashion,
but I soon realize 
that's because his she was nearby. And then they flew. 
Next, upon a fern so Sensitive,
one with Spiny Legs doth land,
a Northern Crescent in its mouth
meant to provide nourishment.
Meanwhile, strung between other ferns
of the Sensitive sort, 
a large Black and Yellow Garden Spider
packages a meal as a smaller one looks on.
And I realize I've never seen 
such a small female
and wonder why she hangs 
onto the web of her bigger sister. 
Across the path
another Black and Yellow has several packaged meals 
that may be a betrothal gift
for her Guy dangles above her, he being much smaller and drabber.
And the Black-shouldered Spinyleg
finds me again
and practically smiles,
if dragonflies can do such a thing. 
Water also flows into the scene
as it should 
for it is life giving
even if its merely a trickle. 
But the delightfully curious thing
is that upstream
the mosses imitate
the water's action even where it is practically non-existent. 
Upon the ground just above,
the Big-toothed leaf that most recently
gathered energy from on high
chose to shut down and show off its colors before giving back to the earth.
It's in this same place 
that My Guy and I notice a Bear Claw Tree,
the marks located just below a trail blaze 
and we wonder if the blazer was aware of the bear sign.
Back to a garden planted for Pollinators
I wander alone
and listen as a million bees buzz
and watch the clear wings of the Hummingbird Moth remain almost stationary. 
It's in this same place, 
just above a sign bearing the name of its adult form
that I spot a caterpillar 
so many of us revere. 
While spotting Monarchs 
has been a bit of a challenge these days,
I rejoice that occasionally
I have the thrill of being in their presence. 
All of this
and oh, so much more, 
as the hawk shouts that being ec-lec-tic 
means deriving a taste from a broad and diverse range of sources.
I'm so grateful 
to enjoy an eclectic view of the world
on so many fronts, 
and to share with you just a smattering of what matters.

One Morning in Bridgton

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

If you recall, at Christmas time last year, Pam Ward of Bridgton Books, and I collaborated and created Twas The Night Before Christmas with a local twist. We had so much fun doing that, that we decided to come up with something else for the spring and early summer.

Thus was born our treasure hunt. I’ve decided to list all the clues first, and if you actually want to try to figure them out or locate them, we welcome that. The answers and the history behind them will be included in the second half of this post.

Happy hunting.

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

I thought I’d separate the clues from the answers with this photo of a Magnificent Bryozoan, tiny animals that form a cluster or colony and filter water–indicators of good water quality. I spotted this in Moose Pond over the weekend. Each year I find at least one colony there and give thanks.

And now for the answers.

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

*********************************************************************************************************

Pam not only took the photos for this treasure hunt, but she also took the time to create each poster.

My part was easy. Among my research, I also had past encounters to recall for as an amateur historian I often picked the brains of Ned Allen, former executive director of Bridgton Historical Society, and the late Sue Black. To both of them, I give great thanks.

And thank you again to Pam and our mutual friend, Katie Dunn, for our recent walk along the Stevens Brook Trail, where I shared some of what Sue taught me over the years.

Here’s to more creative collaborations that celebrate our little place on Planet Earth.

One morning in Bridgton, Maine . . . Pam and I hope you’ll step outside and look for some of these treasures, or at least enjoy reading about them.

Unexpected Finds On The Trail

~ lmachayes ~ 5 Comments

Being an overcast morning, it was rather dark as we hiked up a mountain through a hemlock forest, but that was fine for we began our journey on a trail new to us and it was on the cool side and best of all, not buggy.

And then, we reached the ridge and found ourselves on another trail we had hiked only once before in early spring. Suddenly we could see the sky. It was what was at our feet, however, that mattered most to My Guy.

His beloved blueberries were ripening. And tasted like sunshine despite the clouds above.

For Lowbush Blueberries, they were quite plump and oh, so plentiful. But we hadn’t come prepared to pick. And so we decided we’d move on. That is, until My Guy looked at his watch and realized it was noon, and wondered if we might want to find a spot in that vicinity to eat our sandwiches.

It was then that we both knew our lunch bag would become his blueberry bag.

Did I mind, he asked. Not at all. It meant I could wander and wonder and take in all that surrounded us.

And so he found lunch rock, chosen supposedly for the view in front of us, which included the Saco River, but also for the treats by his feet–an appetizer for sure.

After we finished our sandwiches, he took the bag and let the picking begin. I took my camera and let the sightseeing begin.

Pixie Cups and British Soldiers and so many more lichens grew among the mosses by my feet and I could have spent hours taking inventory.

I also found a sample of aged Red Fox scat that thrilled my soul. Back at home, my neighbor and I have watched our resident foxes pass through our yards and woods frequently, but being able to identify others who had previously traveled the route we chose today made me happy. My Guy was rather nonchalant about it, but I really wanted to add this specimen to my collection. He, however, had beat me to the bag and didn’t think adding scat to blueberries was such a keen idea. Oh bother.

There were White Pine pinecones to admire as well. It takes these cones two years to mature, thus reminding me that this will be a mast year, which the Squirrels and other Rodents will appreciate as they develop caches in their pantries.

I also watched Turkey Vultures ride the thermals, their wings raised in that telltale V as they teetered about in the sky.

And then My Guy called me over for he had made a friend. A small grasshopper hung out on his leg for a few minutes while he continued to pick berries.

But it was the call of another bird, that drew me away again, back to the edge of the ledges.

When we’d first started today’s hike, I heard the chick-burr call note of the Scarlet Tanager, but never expected to spot it a couple of miles later.

And tada, there is was, posing and calling in front of me.

As much as I wanted to call My Guy over to see, I didn’t want the bird to fly, so I took a hundred photos. Well, maybe not quite that many, but you know what I mean.

That beak–what a chomper. And that scarlet body. Those jet-black wings and tail. It was as if he was dressed to impress. I was impressed.

And only wish he’d brought his bride out to say hello. But . . . perhaps she was somewhere on a nest. Or tending their young, though we didn’t hear any sounds that would indicate there were hungry mouths to feed.

Still, he was sooooo handsome.

When the bird finally disappeared from my sight, I showed My Guy what he had missed. He was also in awe.

He picked for a little bit longer and I continued to wander, but the rain we knew to expect and had seen in a distance finally found us, so we eventually headed back into the woods to finish our hike, but first I stopped to admire a St. John’s Wort bejeweled with raindrops.

When we got back to the truck, it had stopped raining. I suggested that we had two choices for a late dessert–the brownies we had packed or a stop at Sweetie Pies Ice Cream. He agreed that the latter sounded ideal.

At the end of the day, he had his blueberries.

I had my time with the Scarlet Tanager. (Plus the fox scat that he pooh-poohed.)

And we both had ice cream to celebrate our unexpected finds.

Pineapple Orange for him. Death by Chocolate for me.

In The Heat . . . of the moment

~ lmachayes

About dinner time yesterday, that is, dinner time for most people, as My Guy and I tend not to eat until about 7:30pm, as we sat on our patio, I suddenly saw action at a Bluebird house we’d nailed to a tree in the yard. After months of seemingly no action, a bird was flying to it and carrying sticks, and I realized that the male House Wren who has been singing from the trees had decided this just might be the place his loved one will want to set up housekeeping.

The action continued for about an hour last night, but then ceased.

And this morning . . . nothing that I could see.

And so deciding I wouldn’t have a chance to watch the fun of moving in today, I decided instead to head to a local wetland where the Painted Turtles taught me a lesson.

I love seeing turtles basking on logs and rocks in the water, but everywhere I looked today, they were not on any of these raised platforms. Instead, they floated. And it occurred to me that it was a brilliant strategy: stay near the surface of the water, but be a wee bit submerged, and therefore stay cool on the hottest of hot summer days thus far this season. Especially given that Painted Turtles have black carapaces or upper shells which are intended to absorb the heat . . . but extreme heat?

While I watched, I noticed that they all stayed in the same spot. How? By treading water, just like we do. Or so it seemed to me as I watched the feet move, but the head and shell remain still.

In all my years of turtle watching, I have never witnessed this before. Or . . . if I did, failed to take note.

Because I was by water, there were plenty of dragonflies as they defended their territories and ate some bugs on the fly and occasionally paused so I could admire and thank them. There were no Mosquitoes to speak of and only a few pesky Deer Flies.

This Four-spotted Skimmer and I spent quite a bit of time together because he was so beautiful and I could have looked at him forever, plus I loved watching him perch, then flight off to chase another dragonfly out of the area, and perch again, over and over.

But there were a few other things to observe. Well, more than a few, but only a couple that I’ll note.

Have you ever noticed how on a hot summer day the smell of fallen pine needles is intensified by the heat? I just love that smell. And where there are Swamp Roses, there is also an aromatic fragrance, and it seemed I wasn’t the only one paying attention.

Seeking nectar is the job of bees and wasps and flowerflies and other. Seeking a sugary substance is the job of ants. On Speckled Alders.

Ants “farm” or “milk” or basically tickle Woolly Alder Aphids that feed upon the shrubs’ sap and get the honeydew the tinier insects secrete.

That cotton candy look on the aphids is actually a waxy material they produce from their abdomens, perhaps meant to detract visitors. Or protect them from the weather. 

The relationship between the ants and the aphids is actually a form of mutualism as the ants protect the aphids from predators, while the aphids provide the ants with a food source. Hmmm. Maybe more of us need to pay attention to this way of living together.

At last I pulled myself away from the wetland, saying goodbye to all and thanking the Painted Turtles for today’s lesson.

Back at home, I heard the Wren before I spotted it and sure enough, it was back on the job of setting up living quarters. Male House Wrens fill cavities with a tangle of sticks and then he tries to persuade his betrothed to build a nest, which she does toward the back of the cavity.

He kept gathering sticks from the ground and returning to the box, though getting them through the hole wasn’t always an easy task. I wanted to encourage him to also try the slot at the top of the box, but my encouraging act would have had the opposite effect, and so I kept my distance.

It was rather like watching a gymnastics show, for such an acrobat was he. And like the turtles treading water, I’d never actually seen a House Wren build a nest before–my knowledge all gained from literature.

Smaller sticks worked well, but those larger ones were much more entertaining from my point of view.

And then there was a really complicated one. Such a challenge.

But a little wiggle here and waggle there and voila. The stick was in the hole. So was the bird.

Until the next one. And then more contemplation.

But all things are doable when you persevere, so of course, another lesson learned today.

I’ve read that House Wrens fill several cavities and then let the woman decide. Smart birds. The jury is out in our neighborhood because my neighbor and I know that either he or another Wren keeps visiting a different birdhouse that the Bluebirds have also considered for their digs.

Heading back in, I suddenly heard a Cardinal, and suspected it was the male because I haven’t seen the female in at least a week. Through the glass in the back door, there he was, feeding a chick! We have a baby!

And then I realized he was feeding two babies, and my, were they ever insistent.

I must say, the chicks look much more like their mother than their father. But he did a great job of tending to their needs, ever the nurturing one.

Today has been really hot, and I know you are all aware of that, but in the heat I managed to be present in so many moments and give great thanks for that.

Vermonting We Did Go

~ lmachayes

Okay, so “Vermonting” is not a word. But we did go. And came home richer for the experience.

It takes us forever to plan a vacation, even a mini-one. Well, actually, it only takes a few minutes once we put our minds to it, but prior to that it’s a lot of “We should go to . . .” or “We need to get away,” or any of a myriad of other comments, and we do nothing.

So about a week ago we cleared our calendars. We knew kinda sorta where we wanted to go, but didn’t know where we might stay, until we discovered The Barn in Peacham. We have a red barn attached to our 1870s farmhouse and long ago turned the upstairs into a movie theater/rec room for our sons, all that being a rather rough rendition of either–the movie seats were from an actual theater in our hometown, which was the best part. The seats are still all up there. And there’s a pingpong table and an air hockey table and trophies (remember the Porcupine Invasion last November?) and various other things, plus now a Yoga area for My Guy, but it’s hardly like the space we rented for the weekend as pictured above.

Cozy, roomy, tons of natural light, everything we needed, even eggs and English muffins if we came up short for our first morning.

I think one of my favorite things, and I had lots of favorites, were the little windows that lined the floor in all four rooms. And above these in the kitchen, a Fannie Farmer Cookbook on a shelf. It was touches like this that enhanced the already perfect space.

And our host and hostess, Chuck and Mercy, were equally delightful, and full of information. Thanks to them we discovered Three Ponds Sandwich Kitchen in Danville our first night and marveled in the deliciousness.

But what we were really there for was to hike. And so Saturday morning we went in search of the trailhead to Peacham Bog. If you happen to see My Guy this week, ask him how that search went. We’re still laughing.

We did find the trailhead, but obviously not where we expected it to be. And at the recommendation of Brian at the Groton State Forest Nature Center, we decided to hike the two miles in to the Bog and then continue along a multi-use trail before reaching Devil’s Hill, circling back along the same route.

The natural communities along the way made us feel as at home as the barn, for we (read “I”) felt like we were walking among old friends such as the Mountain Woodsorrel. I love its peppermint ice cream presentation.

And then, in a damp spot Swamp Beacons lit the way and I was drawn back in time to my first encounter with them while tramping through the woods in Lovell with friends Parker, Joan, and Dave. RIP Parker–please know that you accompany me on and off many a trail and I know that you would be happy that I actually remember some of what you taught me.

Vowing not to count Lady’s Slippers, we didn’t. But they were there, though most waning.

At last we reached the coveted bog, where a boardwalk was long ago placed to keep hikers like us from stepping onto the fragile environment.

It was at this point that another funny story evolved, but again, you’ll have to visit My Guy at his store to get the rest of the story.

At last reaching the platform with a bench at the end of the boardwalk, we sat down to eat sandwiches and take in the scene and sounds that surrounded us.

Sphagnum mosses formed the peat base and laurels and Tamaracks and Firs and flowers and insects all expressed themselves.

I, of course, can never see too many Pitcher Plants and be forever wowed by those downward facing hairs that entice insects in to the pitcher-shaped leaves where the end-of-life lurks.

And the otherworldly flowers were in full bloom, including this one that hosted a long-horned insect and a sub-imago Mayfly (read: Dun).

I’ve been wowed by these for a long time and years ago drew this rendition as a teaching tool that now is the background for my iPhone.

There were Unadorned Bog Flies pollinating Bog Labrador Tea.

And Cotton Sedge showing off their hairy tufts.

Our next leg took us from the Bog to the Groton multi-use trail, being used mainly by horse riders and moose. We saw neither, but their tracks were evident in the mud.

What we did spot was this Aurora Damselfly being wrapped up by an Orb Weaver Spider. I knew the damselfly immediately because of the uneven stripe on the sides of the thorax.

And had recently tried to paint a mature form of the same species.

We also met a couple of Red Efts, the teenag and terrestrial stage of the Eastern Newt. The red spots act as a warning to predators because if consumed, they secrete poison toxins from their skins. As humans, we can touch them and live, but to ingest one would be harmful. So don’t try that.

A couple of miles later we reached the trailhead for Devil’s Hill and snaked our way up the switchbacks to the summit, where this view of the rolling hills and iconic geography of Vermont stood out before us.

On the way down, a male Luna Moth presented itself, hiding as it was under a Striped Maple leaf.

I love these leaves and their twigs, especially the growth rings that stand out so predominately, and My Guy appreciates that the leaves serve as Nature’s Toilet Paper. TMI? But really, they are easy to identify and they are soft.

Returning on the multi-use trail before retracing our steps on the Peacham Bog Loop, we had to walk through tall grasses and sedges, which did not make my heart so glad because this was heavy tick territory. I had on tick gaiters and repellant. We took at least five off My Guy.

But, this pair of Craneflies did share a canoodle moment with us, so that won me over for a second.

All in all, we hiked over eleven miles that day, and were too beat to go out to dinner, so instead drove to the West Barnet Quick Stop, about 1.5 miles from our weekend home. There we ordered Chicken Cordon Bleu Paninis with Pesto, and a salad to share. And while we waited for our meal to be created, noticed Shain’s of Maine Ice Cream in the freezer, which made us chuckle. Wait a minute. We were in Ben & Jerry Country. Never fear–they had a much better presentation in another freezer.

And, while we waited, I asked the woman who was creating our salad if she lived in the area. “All my life,” she said, and added, “So far.” We chuckled, but then I asked if she knew so and so, a couple I know from church who had lived just down the road for many years (a fact I’d only learned days earlier).

Her face lit up with a smile as she recalled them and said they used to frequent her other store and that their daughter had worked for her. As tired as I was, that smile of hers was the perfect ending to a great day.

Well, it wasn’t quite over yet. For there was no TV at our weekend digs. And so I taught My Guy to play Parcheesi, and then I beat him.

The next morning we drove north to Orleans to meet my first college roommate and her husband, Bev and Bill, at the Carriage House for breakfast. Funny thing–as I drove up Route 91, there was one car in front of us and approaching it, with its Maine license plate, I spotted Lakes Environmental Association and a Loon Echo Land Trust stickers on the rear window. It had to be someone from our hometown. Sure enough, as I passed it, I recognized the mother of one of my former students. And a wondermyway follower.

Betty, if you are reading this, that was us on the highway with you on Sunday morning at 8:30 or so.

We spent two hours talking and eating and talking and talking some more over omelets and coffee and Bev and Bill suggested that we hike Mount Hor, which overlooks Willoughby Lake. I’d been to Willoughby before with Bev and two other dear friends, but never hiked in that area. And so we did. They gave us easy to follow directions and we parked and then walked almost two miles up the CCC Trail. I love that this was another project meant to keep people working when times were tough.

Though the hard packed surface we walked on was not the original road, we kept spotting these posts and my theory is that they were original and held cables that connected one post to another and kept vehicles from catapulting down the steep embankment.

When we finally reached the actual trailhead for Mount Hor, I met a new flower. Canada Violet. It made sense since we were probably about ten miles from the Canadian border. Delicate. Pure white. A well-defined runway to the nectar. And leaves offering a different take on the violet theme.

What we soon realized was that it not only grew tall, but also in large clumps.

Oh my gosh, our next find–Maidenhair Fern. Such a unique presentation and color and, oh my gosh!

At the summit, we had three choices. First we headed to the Summit Vista, where the view included Cedar trees in the foreground and two delightful couples who were enjoying GORP and blueberries but when they heard that we had homemade Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip granola bars a la The Stow Away Baker in our backpack, they wanted to chase us down the mountain.

From there, we hiked another mile across the ridge line to the East View, overlooking Lake Willoughby.

While there, we spotted a Peregrine Falcon soaring on the thermals, but neither of us got a good shot of it. Still. Forever in our minds eye. And sometimes, those are the most memorable moments.

From the North Vista we looked across at the cliffs of Mount Pisgah and wondered how many more falcons we weren’t seeing.

Back down the CCC Road we did walk once we stepped off the mountain trail and my favorite find was a Mountain Maple, that stopped me in my steps for a few minutes as I had to remember who it was that I was meeting.

Back at Lake Willoughby North Beach, Mount Hor is on the right and Mount Pisgah on the left, creating a fjord-like presentation.

From there, we drove south to South Barton as I let my nose lead the way and found a cemetery I’ve visited in the past for some of my ancestors are buried here.

Recognizing family names is always a treasure. And actually, within the post railings of this place I noted at least three different families that have contributed to my DNA. I’m pretty sure my love of the north country, be it Northern New England or Canada, comes from these folks.

On the way back to our home base, we grabbed sandwiches to go from Three Ponds and gave thanks for their goodness.

And then this morning, after packing and cleaning and chatting briefly with Chuck, we had one more place to explore–Kettle Pond State Park within Groton State Forest.

So here’s the thing. My understanding of a kettle bog is that it’s kettle or bowl shaped. And has an outer layer of herbs, with the next layer surrounding it of taller herbs, and then a third layer of shrubs encircling the kettle, and finally, trees who like wet feet, like Red Maples, forming the final ridge around the pond.

None of this was present. Well, there were shrubs and trees, but not in layers like I’m used to seeing. And the shape of the pond was more north-to-south glacial-related than kettle-related. Hmmm?

Still, some great finds like this Spotted Salamander egg mass along with four others in a deep puddle along the trail. Can you see the embryos forming?

And a Garter Snake that had been basking on a rock in the trail until we happened along.

And Twin Flowers, each sharing a petiole, growing like a mat along a glacial erratic.

And Stair-Step Moss growing abundantly like a set of stairs here and there and even over there.

And a warning, which was more of an invitation at the only private cabin along the way, a route which offers lean-to shelters for groups to rent. I love this sign. We looked forward to meeting said dog, but sadly, no one was home.

Flat-fruited Pelt Lichen also lined the trail. So much to see. So much more to learn.

Oh, and an Eastern Newt in the water. It was like the Newt brought the trail to a full circle beginning with the Red Eft on our first hike of the weekend and ending with this adult form.

Our time Vermonting came to an end this afternoon, but oh, what a wonder-filled time we had. We hiked so many miles while meeting old and new friends, dined with dear old friends, met friends of friends who were old friends to each other and new friends to us, and just plain had fun making new memories.

Thank you Chuck and Mercy, and Bev and Bill, and Debbie and those at Three Ponds, and Brian at the Nature Center, and to all the others we met along the way for making our experience such a rich one.

Vermonting we did go. Word or no word, it was exactly what we needed.

Where The Moccasins Led Us

~ lmachayes

Rituals. We follow them. Some more than others.

For My Guy and me, there is one in particular that captures our attention beginning in mid-May.

And so I follow him . . . across Beaver dams,

beside the Atlantic Ocean,

up mountain trails,

even on the hottest day so far with Canada wildfire smoke casting a haze.

This year it was more trails than usual that were included in our ritual and along the way we spotted Wild Columbine in bloom, growing as it does among the rocks, and always pleasing our senses with its brilliant colors and artistic nodding presentation.

Fringed Polygala, and how I love the way those two words roll of my tongue, also showed off, making its common name of Gaywings so apparent. Doesn’t it look like a Bird of Paradise coming in for a landing upon its very own leaves?

Upon one of our journeys we found a few Red Trilliums still in bloom, though it seemed late in the season for them. But as My Guy teases, I did what I do and added this photo to the other trillion I have of this plant. They all need to be honored, don’t they?

Seemingly everywhere, Clintonia, aka Blue-Bead Lily bloomed, adding specks of sunshine to the path and lighting our way, even on the grayest or rainiest of days. Yes, we even hike on rainy days.

On sunnier days, the Tiger Swallowtails added their own yellow to the equation. Can you see the tiny pretarsi or insect feet of the butterfly as it held on why sucking the flower’s nectar?

This spring it seems the Tiger Swallowtails are everywhere we travel by foot or truck. What I love about this one is that it was taking a break upon the leaves and you might be able to see its proboscis or siphoning mouthpart coiled up because there was no nectar to seek in that moment.

Right now the Swallowtail butterflies are the largest we’ve seen flying, but during a hike the other day, we spotted one of the smaller ones, this being a Northern Azure feasting upon Black Chokeberry flowers at a summit.

Jack, or rather Jill-in-the-Pulpit, for she needed the extra leaves to help her in her mission of producing seeds, greeted us in various places where the soil was moist including beside the cow path in our woods, where it totally surprised me despite the fact that we’ve lived in this house and wandered about for over thirty years.

As one week turned to the next, and the flowers that were in full bloom kept changing, suddenly Bunchberry was added to the list. Again, like Jill-in-the-Pulpit, Bunchberry needs two extra leaves in order to have more energy to produce flowers followed by the berried fruits that bunch together in a cluster of bright red. You may look at the veins on those leaves and immediately know the family to which this wee plant belongs–if you guessed Dogwood, you are correct.

One of the earliest bloomers of spring, has already formed into a fruit, in this case three sided. Meet the Wild Oat of Sessile-leaf Bellwort. It reminds me that in a snap of the fingers, the season passes by much too quickly.

It wasn’t just flowers that marked our journeys. About the same time that we began the latest ritual, dragonflies and damselflies slowly began to emerge, for which we always give great thanks as they gobble up some of the Mosquitoes and Black Flies that so annoy us. This American Emerald had only just made the transformation from aquatic form to terrestrial hours earlier based on the sheen still visible on its drying, but not quiet dried yet, wings.

Much more mature were these two, who had formed the marital wheel in order to canoodle. I knew they were Emerald Dragonflies, but wasn’t sure which species until I searched my guides back at home: Uhler’s Sundragon, a new species for me.

And in at least one spot, some smaller female dragonflies deposited eggs as they tapped the water’s surface with their abdomens. Think of it as Naiads to come, who will live in the water for 1 – 3 years, depending upon species, before climbing out and transforming miraculously into terrestrial fliers.

Being beside water in another place, and looking between tree branches, we spied a Common Merganser taking a bath.

We stood just far enough back, that it didn’t realize it had an audience as it splished and splashed.

And finally shook itself off, with water spraying everywhere, before it continued on its journey . . . and we did the same.

Basking Painted Turtles became a common sight as well, and this one had the cushiest place upon which to recline, all others being on fallen logs or rocks and boulders in the water.

One, however, that I assume was a female, though I didn’t want to disturb it and get any closer to check the length of its nails, I surmised had been laying eggs or was about to. Our time together was limited so I don’t have the entire story, but she was in a safe place, no matter what.

One of our most unusual sightings as we performed the ritual was spying a Bald Eagle steal a fish from the grip of an Osprey. If you look closely at the center of the photo, you might spot the thief on its get-away mission–it is flying above the picnic tables, about in the middle of the trees.

As it flew over our heads, the Eagle had the audacity to look back to see if the Osprey was hot on its tail. It was. We don’t know how this story ended either, but we assume the Osprey had to cast its fishing line again.

Another fun sighting occurred as we crossed under a powerline on the return trip of a seven mile hike around a river, over to a pond, up a hill behind the pond, and back down and out. Almost the color of the grass that sparsely grew along this section of the trail, a green snake slithered across just after My Guy had stepped that way.

I just love its forked tongue–sensing the trail in snake manner as it did.

The two tines at the tip of the tongue, seen here as it withdrew this sensory organ, help it to smell in stereo and thus find its way and find a meal.

All of these things we saw because of the ritual that we perform every year at this time. It’s one that we now realize involves some greed, but still we feel compelled to do it. We count Lady’s Slippers.

I always thought that orchids were something you received on Prom night and that they grew at the florist. I had no idea that they were actually wildflowers until about thirty years ago. According to Orchids of New England and New York by Tom Nelson & Eric Lamont, Lady’s Slippers are one of 65 species and variants found in our region.

And so they deserved to be counted.

But, oh, how they hide. Do you see the one in the photograph above?

How about now?

Knowing that they can be elusive causes My Guy to slow down for a change. It’s no longer the destination that counts, but rather the number of Pink (and their white variants) flowers that we can spot.

Some are tall, and others quite small. And some are sets of leaves with no flowers yet as in the foreground. We don’t count those.

Here’s the thing about Lady’s Slippers. It takes a long time for a minuscule seed to become a plant. The seeds, developed in capsules, are beyond numerous, but each one has no food source or endosperm. So . . . it must develop a relationship with a Rhizoctonia fungus in the soil to survive. From the fungus the plant gets nutrients for germination and growth. The fungus, in turn, receives nutrients from the orchid’s roots.

BUT . . . all of this takes time. And the presence of the fungus.

Years. First, after at least three years the plant produces a pair of two basal leaves that fold like accordions and remind me of the paper fans we used to make as kids.

One author says it’s another 5 – 10 years before the plant produces a flower; another states 10 – 17. Either way, by the time you spot one, it’s been working for a long time to become a thing of beauty. (And should not be picked or transplanted.)

We found one that stymied us for it appeared to have three basal leaves. I can only wonder if there was a second plant there and something happened to its other leaf.

In one spot, we found what we call a bouquet. Sometimes we see three or four grouped together, but in this case 14 plants in bloom.

And in another spot where we expected the same, nada. What happened. My Guy was disappointed because this is his favorite and he loves to show it off to anyone who happens to be hiking that way.

We have a theory, though we don’t have scientific knowledge to back it up. But here goes. Last summer, our count was quite high. The previous spring and summer it had rained. A. Lot.

Last year, we experienced a drought. This year fewer flowers in most places that we hiked in the last few weeks. Perhaps less of the fungus?

And sometimes the flowers are spotted growing in a bit of a line, making us think perhaps there is a rotting nurse log beneath the soil. As for soil and habitat, acidic seems to be the favorite and we often find them among Low-bush Blueberries and towering over Reindeer Lichen.

And then there’s pollination: Lady’s-slipper pollination is a curious thing. Bees are lured in by the guide lines to a slit in the front petal, the slipper-like pouch, or flower’s labellum. Once inside, the bee cannot exit the way it entered because the petal structure turns inward.

The exit is at the top of the slipper, but to reach it, the bee must move through a hairy interior and rub against the flower’s stigma, depositing any pollen it may have carried in and brushing against the pollen mass called the pollenia before flying out. It strikes me as being like a house of mirrors. And all I want to do is quickly find my way out.

Some bees get frustrated with the dilemma of discovering there is no nectar and the task of finding the exit and instead chew their way out, which seems to be what happened to this flower.

It looks like the bee frantically tried to escape this one.

I tried to honor them with a painting, but our best way is by counting each and every one. I’m going to share last year’s numbers and this years. Also, this year, we counted along a bunch of other trails than just the Big Three as My Guy refers to the first three for which I have been keeping records since 2000.

Wolfe’s Neck State Park: 2024: 475; 2025: 159

Albany Mountain: 2024: 364; 2025: 411

Sanborn River and Overset Mountain: 2024: 598; 2025: 526

Grand Total of the Big Three: 2024: 1,437; 2025: 1096

Plus these trails all from this year only:

Mount Tom: 25 (but we were there on May 18, and this was the kick-off event that got us going this year; more may have bloomed since then. Actually, after spotting the first one, My Guy wasn’t sure he wanted to count this year, but let me tell you, he still has the greed!)

Mount Tire’m: 31

Proctor Pond Reserve: 41

Kezar River Forest: 63

Narrow Gauge (only 1.5 mile section): 56

Sleigh Trail at Notch View Farm: 44

Home woods: 2

Grand total of all trails: May 18 – June 6: 1,358

Even with the extra trails, the count was down.

But still . . .

Where the Moccasins (Lady’s Slippers) Led Us–up and down many a path with so many wonder-filled moments and sighting along the way. Counting Lady’s Slippers is a ritual that we love to share together and with others.