vernal pool

My Artistic Path: one year later

~ lmachayes ~ 10 Comments

It’s all Jessie Lozanski’s fault that a year after publishing My Artistic Path, I’m publishing the next layer of paintings and sketches. Until I shared a few with my sister this afternoon, I had no idea how prolific I’ve been in this department. That said, some didn’t make it off the drawing board. Or rather, they did, but ended up in the trash, or in a pile to be considered at a later point in time. That’s the beauty of working with gouache, I can make changes at a later date. For me, that is liberating.

And now Dear Reader, you have three choices: 1) Read this entire post from beginning to end; 2) Scroll through the pictures and call it good; or 3) Click out of this post and pretend you either never saw it or that you did see it and loved all of it.

I have to say, I thought I’d paint more dragonflies like this Eastern Pondhawk, but when I scrolled through My Art Gallery, I discovered only a few others. That said, I did take some time to sketch the naiad forms of six families and then painted each one. You can visit all of those in Dragons of the Future if you wish.

Waterways also intrigued me as I tried to figure out how to make the water look as if it is flowing. This is Province Brook in Chatham, New Hampshire.

And then there are the critters and I’m afraid you’ll see a few of them along this journey. The fun thing about this Chipmunk is that it made an appearance on a February day. I was tracking with some friends and we were pretty certain that we’d discovered Chipmunk prints, but it didn’t seem possible. Until it was because as we backtracked, we saw him and he posed for a few photographs. Sometimes, when you need more food, you might make a mad dash from your winter home to locate it.

Clubmosses are one of the topics I’m trying to learn. . .when I take the time to do so. And so I sketched these after spending some delightful hours studying them as I wrote about in When is a Moss not a Moss?

It’s the colors in this painting that I like. And figuring out how to paint Birch bark.

And then there was Forter Castle in Glen Isla, Scotland. I actually did three smaller versions of this castle and then decided to paint this larger picture based off one of those. It was a gift for Anne, our hostess when we were invited to spend a few nights there back in 2017, and in memory of her husband John. You can read more about that adventure here: From the Bonny Banks to the Highlands.

This next one will forever evoke the memory of my friend, Faith, who passed away this summer. We were on a Lakes Environmental Association walk at Holt Pond when we all “spotted” this fawn quietly waiting for momma. Quick pics and then we moved away.

And this is one of the Red Foxes who frequent our yard. In My Art Gallery, there are two more attempts, both in watercolor while this one is with gouache paints. Experimenting is fun.

Tom Turkey! What more need I say.

In the midst of taking classes with Jessie this past year, which sadly ended in the spring, I purchased Grahame Booth’s book: Anyone Can Paint Watercolour Landscapes, and tried to follow the step-by-step instructions. This was a result of Lesson 1. There were six lessons altogether, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. You can see my other paintings based on the book by looking once again at My Art Gallery. Yikes, I’m beginning to sound redundant. Smiley Face!

I like this one because I like the subject. I used a matted board to paint it. The stump is beside the Saco River in Conway, New Hampshire.

This one was for another friend because we had walked out to Kezar Pond in Fryeburg from her home the previous New Year’s Eve or Day, and it was just lovely.

And then there is a perennial subject of mine–the Stairway to Heaven tree along the cowpath in our woods. I especially love it when snow outlines the branches.

Another favorite scene takes me back to my childhood in Clinton, Connecticut, and I painted this for my sister and brother-in-law as a keepsake. So many memories in the spot that was our little piece of Heaven for so many years.

On and off, I’ve produced paintings of birds, and another favorite subject is the Great Blue Heron. I’ve also tried to paint rookeries, but often struggle with perspective. Of course, you can view my attempts you know where: My Art Gallery, to be shortened to MAG going forward.

No words necessary really–a male Northern Red Cardinal.

And his female counterpart.

Our oldest son and his girlfriend rescued this energetic pup at the beginning of the pandemic.

And this pup belongs to our youngest son’s girlfriend’s mother.

One morning, I stepped outside just after it had finished raining and the sun was shining through the trees out back and there was a layer of fog and shadows and it was just exquisite so I tried to capture it.

The White Pine Cone was something I started to sketch and then left for a long time, until I realized the scales were all arranged in a spiral of course and bingo, I knew how to go about it.

Turns out, I’m not the only one who knows to go about it–for Red Squirrels love to take each pine cone scale off in order to get to the seeds stored by such. Their method of descaling a cone is rather like us eating corn on the cob. I actually referenced both the pine cone painting and this one in Another Amazing Lesson from a Red Squirrel.

All last winter and spring, and into the beginning of the summer, my neighbor and I rejoiced because we had Bluebirds. In fact, a pair nested in one of our boxes, but that was around July 4th, and by the end of the week, she’d abandoned the nest. We’ll never know why.

A few more birds coming up–including this male Red Winged Blackbird at Brownfield Bog.

A Sharp-shinned Hawk in the backyard and field.

And a Scarlet Tanager on Mount Cutler in Hiram, Maine.

I did think I’d paint more butterflies, and perhaps this fall or winter I’ll attempt to, but it seems the Spring Azure is all I’ve done so far.

I’ve also made a couple of cards in the course of the year, this one for a First Grade student who was my penpal and she told me she really likes Dandelions. That girl will go far in life!

Another favorite topic of mine: Dog-Day Cicadas. If you type Cicada into the “Search” bar on my blog, you’ll discover several posts about these insects emerging. As I write, I can hear them “singing” from the treetops.

Sometimes, actually, more than sometimes, something catches one’s eye and this Tree Frog was one of those times. A friend and I had stopped to talk about a Snapping Turtle that seemed to be late laying eggs, and bingo, there was the frog on a tree.

Speaking of frogs and other critters who rely on vernal pools, visit MAG and you’ll find my Vernal Pool series, including a Fairy Shrimp that looks WAY bigger than its actual 1 – 1.5 inch size.

And then there was the day I pulled out a copy of National Audubon’s Field Guide to North American Trees because I wanted to get to know acorns better. Silly me, I came up with names for each one based on what they looked like to me, but I made the mistake of writing the names in pencil before painting a light colored wash on the paper. As I began to paint the acorns, I realized I wanted to change their names, but couldn’t erase them or paint over them. So . . .

I sketched them again, and gave them new names.

And finally the moment you’ve been waiting for, today’s painting:

I always like it when I try iNaturalist’s SEEK app on a painting and it agrees with me. Barred Owl it is.

Wow, I had no attention of pulling this all together today until about an hour ago when I was sharing photos with my sister and realized I hadn’t sent her any in a while. So thank you, B.S., for being my inspiration today . . . and always.

And thank you Dear Readers, for sticking with me today and always as I share My Artistic Path: one year later.

Wednesday Wanders=Wonder-filled

~ lmachayes

You know when you start something and you have no idea of what the future will hold and yet, you forge ahead cuze that’s what you naturally do? Well, that’s been the experience fellow Master Naturalist Dawn and I have had since I retired in October 2023.

At the time, I knew I would deeply miss outings with the Greater Lovell Land Trust docents, a group of dedicated volunteers who love to learn and then share that knowledge with the public. But, I’d made a promise to step away so the new person could have some space.

I’m a teacher at heart, however, and needed to continue down that path. So, prior to retiring I had approached Loon Echo Land Trust and asked if I could lead some winter walks for them, sharing the art of tracking and other winter wonders with their participants. That idea was well received and I invited Dawn to help. We began in November 2023 and when March 2024 arrived, and we should have been winding down, I realized we were having so much fun that the program needed to continue and so it did until last July. And then we took a brief hiatus.

The hiatus ended in September 2024, and on our first outing among our finds were a few Brown Hooded Owlet larvae, with their striking colors and pattern.

On that same journey, we reached a wetland where Black Ash grow, and encouraged participants to poke their thumb nails into the bark. I love it when people are willing to try and in this case, they realized the bark is corky. Especially after it has rained.

October found us being wowed by rose hips. Because–look at those spikes. We thought maybe a slime mold, but instead discovered it’s the gland-tipped hairs on the hips of Ground Rose. Otherworldy indeed.

And speaking of otherworldly, the larval form of Lady Beetles also caught our attention, this one having been predated. So spiky as well, and especially when you think of what an adult Lady Beetle looks like–it doesn’t seem to match up. But . . . that’s how the natural world works.

In November, we were only a wee bit surprised to still be greeting Meadowhawk Dragonflies. Notice the tattered hind wing–this one had met with some difficulties we could only imagine.

On another November expedition, while exploring an area where Beavers were quite active and had been busy mudding/insulating the outside of a lodge, plus gathering their winter food supply, we asked participants to become the critters and cut down their own trees. But . . . they had to hold the tree trunk as upright as possible and turn it, because certainly they couldn’t walk around it like a Beaver can.

Timber!

With a bit of snow in December (actually on Thanksgiving Day we had a lot of snow, but then the amount dwindled daily), we started tracking in earnest, spending the start of each walk with a brief explanation of how mammals move and clues to the prints they leave behind.

Measuring took on new meaning as stride (length from the front of one foot to the front of the next in a track) and straddle (length between the outside of one track and the outside of the next in the pattern, for example, put your feet together and measure from the outside of the left foot to the outside of the right and you have determined your trail width or straddle, which is key for some mammal print ID) were taken into consideration.

On a cold winter day in January, you would have thought that we’d bring hot cocoa. We had the cups. And we had the thermos. BUT . . . inside the thermos we had what we call mammal blood (red gelatin), and the group split into pairs and went off to find just the right spot to protect their “mammal’s blood” so we could check its temperature about twenty minutes or more later. It actually turned out to be later because we got caught up with tracking an actual critter in the meantime.

When we did check, it was the pair with the highest temperature that won bragging rights. They had found a suitable protected spot for their critter to survive.

We were still tracking in February, and were excited to follow a Porcupine to its den, and then backtrack to its feeding trees, where Eastern Hemlock branches minus buds and some needles, decorated the ground.

And though we had to dig to find, Porcupine scat in its typical comma shape, did happen.

In March, it was the large red buds of Basswood that garnered our attention. And after posting photos of these, an arborist friend commented that the buds look like a mouse wearing a helmet and I’ll never unsee that going forward. Thank you, Eli!

As the temperature began to rise with the March sun, we also spotted deer beds such as this one and knew to look for deer hair! The red arrows point to some as it was time for them to shed their winter coat and with their body heat melting the snow, some stuck to the edges.

In April, on our way to a vernal pool, one of the many curious naturalists among us found an Oak Apple Gall, that would have been bright green when first formed last spring/summer.

Though it had snowed the day before, we did find Fairy Shrimp in the pool, and rejoiced as always because finding just one of this species makes the pool significant by Maine standards.

As I mentioned in a previous post, there are four species, each with a different count, that help determine if the pool is significant, but any pool that dries up in the summer and then fills up again in the fall is considered ephemeral or vernal.

When the calendar turned to May, we turned our attention to dipping in rivers and streams, curious to see what macro-invertebrates we might meet in those spaces. Out came the D-nets, which we don’t use in vernal pools, because we don’t want to disturb the egg masses of Wood Frogs and Salamanders.

It’s always fun to meet the different species, including a variety of Mayflies in their larval form, with gills along their abdomens and three tails. Long tails quite often. And all that come out of the water, including Mosquito and Black Fly larvae, must go back in.

All of this brings me to this morning, when our group was quite small because some had apparently cancelled for various reasons and others were no-shows. That said, we had the best time, as we always do. But today felt extra special. You see, we had a plan to walk down an old trail, but since we were waiting for the no-shows, we thought we’d give them some time to locate us if we first visited a pond located about a hundred feet from the parking area and in the opposite direction of our intentions.

It was while squatting there that we realized miracles were taking place. But . . . we still wanted to share the trail with the participants, so we promised we’d return to the edge before it was time to depart. (As for the no-shows–we’re bummed they missed out.)

One of the participants who is a fungi enthusiast, and has eagle eyes, somehow spotted these mushrooms. None of us knew what they were, but iNaturalist’s SEEK app identified them as Devil’s Urns.

When I arrived home, I looked them up my Audubon Field Guide, and bingo: “Large, leathery brown, urn-shaped cup; Season: March-May; Habitat: Clustered on fallen deciduous wood, especially oak; Comments: This is one of the first mushrooms to appear in the spring in the East.”

Well done, Julie.

Woolly Alder Aphids were also visible, and once we saw one clump, we began to notice several. As we described how ants “farm” or seemingly tickle them to get them to secrete honeydew, one participant saw an ant and another saw drops of said liquid. Can you see it?

Well done, Marie.

And remember the little girl who found last year’s Oak Apple Gall on the way to the vernal pool in April? Well, another among us today found this year’s galls on newly emerged Oak leaves. It got us all thinking about leaves and insects and how mature insects lay or inject eggs into buds when they first form in late summer and so the moment the leaves begin to unfurl the following spring, larval forms jump into action and leaf miners and rollers and gall makers and everyone else have a heyday.

Well done, Heidi.

Marie, Julie, and Heidi also took an up-close look at last year’s Speckled Alder cones and we noted that the male catkins have already fallen to the ground for this year, their pollination duty now completed.

Lady’s Slippers, and Wild Sarsaparilla, and Star Flowers, and Canada Mayflowers, and Rhodora, and Dewberry, and Bastard Toadflax, and even Poison Ivy were admired and noted.

But, we all had a mission that we wanted to fulfill, so with about a half hour left, we retraced our steps rather quickly.

And into the plants at the pond’s edge we peered. Do you see it? A dragonfly naiad (nymph or larval form) upon a broken branch, with the adult form starting to split through the exoskeleton at the point between the wing pads. How could this be? Yes, we’ve seen dragonflies for the last week or two, but it was cold this morning. Raw. Breezy. Seemingly inhospitable for these summer fliers.

Apparently not, for once we looked around, we began to notice them everywhere. The dark naiad climbing up the rock was in search of the perfect spot. And if you look below the rock, you’ll see two naiads, one that is grayer in color, because its adult form had already eclosed or emerged; and the other browner one with the adult starting to pull out of the aquatic skin.

Here’s a closer look at the ones under the rock. Notice the eye placement. That is key to Identification according to family. In this case, with the eyes spaced far apart, it could be either a Petaltail or a Clubtail.

As I said, they were everywhere, and we felt it our duty to watch over them. To protect them from being predated, which is actually kinda funny, given that they are predators. But predators of the best kind because they feast upon Mosquitoes and Black Flies and Deer Flies, and others, of course, but it’s for those first three that we appreciate them.

Can you see how the adult is pulling out of the skin?

And do you see thin white strings extending from the exuviae to the back of the dragonfly? Those were the spiracles or underwater breathing tubes, which are no longer needed by the adult.

A few minutes later it is further out–can you see that? Once it gets its abdomen all the way out, it typically holds onto its shed skin and then pumps its insect blood into its wings so that they expand, before drawing that blood back into its body, allowing its coloration to eventually take true form.

Look for the white strings again.

Do you see them now? Completely unnecessary and therefore left behind.

When the wings are at full length, they are held over the back and cloudy in color until it’s time to spread them and let them dry before first flight.

The eyes on this newly emerged dragonfly, along with its abdomen markings and cerci or claspers at the tip of the abdomen, tell us its in the Emerald family, and I suspect a Common Baskettail.

As we watched, we noticed some had wings that were stuck together, and this one with a curved abdomen. It was curious that it had left its exuviae before its wings emerged and so I wondered if they would unfurl.

A few delighted us because we got to watch them spread their wings apart–translucent and shiny as they dried.

By the eye placement and beginnings of the markings, my identification stab is for Lancet Clubtail–one of the friendliest dragonflies who likes to land on us when kayaking. Or even on the dock.

As you can imagine, we had to pull ourselves away. The walk was supposed to end at noon, but it was 12:40pm when we finally finished–and honestly, I think we could have stayed a few more hours if we had food and other necessities.

All of our Wednesday Wanders for Loon Echo Land Trust are incredible because each one offers its own moments of awe.

Being honored, however, to share the emergence of dragonflies from their aquatic forms to terrestrial–and helping the ladies to understand that it takes hours for this process, and being surprised that so many had chosen what we considered to be a chilly spring day . . . it was beyond wonder-filled. As every Wednesday Wander is. But today, today was over the top.

A Visit From Mom

~ lmachayes

We stood in her bedroom and peered into her closet, then I grabbed a shirt and was about to close the sliding door. It was Dad sitting on my shoulder, who reminded me, as he always does, to pull the string and turn off the overhead light.

Next I remember, she was getting ready to walk the three of us down the road to the bus stop. And grab the next-door neighbors on the way. We all always walked together.

That was my childhood neighborhood. My adult neighborhood is a wee bit different, but in a way, really the same. The length of our road is the same, with the same number of houses lining the street. We live at the dead end as my family did growing up. And it’s nothing but field and forest beyond.

One of my favorite parts about my current neighborhood is the vernal pool that I refer to as “MY” vernal pool even though it’s on a neighbor’s property. So, neighbors are still an important part of my life.

And while visiting the vernal pool to check on my amphibian friends yesterday as days of rain drew to a close, I discovered two new residents I hadn’t met in this space before.

Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Mallard have visited before, but in 30+ years of my journeys to this spot, I’d never encountered them. My first response was to scare them away. Thankfully, I came to my senses quickly.

But in those first few moments, all I could think about were the tadpoles that were using the pool to develop. Their moms and dads had left the pool just after the eggs that contained embryos that turned into the said tadpoles emerged. And because those moms and dads only spend about two weeks in the pool and then return to their upland habitat for fifty more weeks of the year, I always feel it is my duty to watch over and protect them. And the ducks . . . might gobble them up.

But she excited the pool and looked tall and poised and I was certain their visit was just for a moment and so I gave thanks that I’d had the chance to spot them.

He added his own stature to the landscape. And my presence seemed not to annoy either of them.

Though my concern was that they’d gobble all the critters I chose to protect, I did think that if they had any interest in the larval Mosquito wigglers or their pupal tumblers that looked like little bullet forms, then have at it and eat away. Just don’t touch my Wood Frog and Spotted Salamander tadpoles. “MY” tadpoles. Synonymous with “MY” vernal pool. Located on a neighbor’s property.

As I walked around the pool, the Mallards swam, and I realized that I’d forced them into the spot where the egg masses had been laid and I wondered how many they’d already eaten.

And then . . . they did start foraging. My only hope was that I know tadpoles quickly dart under leaves, so that might protect them. But what else could the ducks be consuming? Aquatic plants are few in this particular pool. Seeds, however, are abundant, so there was that thought. But really, I’m sure they were dining on my buddies as well as macro-invertebrates.

I tried not to think about it. Until I did.

Two years ago, we had rain all spring and summer and this pool, which typically dries out by mid to late June, was full until September, and for the first time in my memory of decades of visits, I witnessed the tadpoles developing hind legs first and then front legs.

Last year, however, due to drought conditions, all dried out in a short time, and if any tadpoles metamorphed, it was quick. And I think this year’s egg masses spoke to that for there were far fewer Wood Frog masses, but over forty Spotted Salamander masses. Perhaps the latter sensed the changing conditions last year and enough were able to develop quickly into adults.

On the way home, I searched the trees in our woods and finally was rewarded with one showing off the suds of a rainy day–when pine salts turn into bubbles at the base of a tree.

The better surprise occurred just up the trunk, where I suddenly keyed in on intense activity, in the form of Crane Flies canoodling and jockeying for a chance to canoodle. They were fervent in their attempts.

Today dawned SUNNY, and after church I headed back out to the pool. At first I didn’t see the ducks, but within moments realized they were still present. And I began to come to terms with their presence because really I love them too. I just don’t want them to eat all my other friends.

While I looked down, a cat-like meow called my attention upward and there I spotted a female Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. And I was drawn back in time to watching Sapsuckers raise families in our yard and on land trust property and I wondered if this female was a momma and if so, where had she hidden her gang?

And then, because of the sunshine, I could peer into the water through my polarized sunglasses and tada, I still had tadpoles. This momma was pleased and proud. So, maybe I could share the space with the Mallards after all–as long as they promised to not eat all of my babies.

In the mix, I also spotted Predaceous Diving Beetles, and of course, the ubiquitous Mosquito larvae.

As for my ducks, ah yes, I’d now accepted them as mine. Really, they are a handsome couple. My next question for them is this: how long will they remain? That, I know, depends on how long the pool holds water. Which depends on how much precipitation falls from the sky. One thing leads to another, which leads to another, and so life goes on.

Upon a floating log within the pool, more life happened, this time in the Midges trying to canoodle with other Midges as a Crane Fly looked on.

As for the ducks, they again moved under the branches where the egg masses had been, but this time they preened.

And into the midst of all, in flew a couple of Black and White Warblers, and I felt rewarded once again for being in this place at this time.

Zebra birds might be another suitable description.

A few minutes later and Mrs. Mallard demanded my attention once again as she took a bath.

And then she climbed upon a rock in the pool, while he circled around for a while, protecting her or so it seemed.

She finally settled and he joined her, pausing to preen.

And then they both took a nap. Apparently my presence wasn’t a concern.

Thank you, Mom, for your visit. It was so awesome to spend some time with you last night. And thank you for making me realize that we don’t have to necessarily be moms to human children, though I do give great thanks for our boys who have been in touch throughout the day even though we couldn’t be together, to be nurturing. To all who guard and watch over human babes, and amphibians, and birds, and insects, including monarchs, and furbabies, and you name it: Happy Mother’s Day. Your efforts are gallant. Your souls are brave. Your hearts are full.

I love it when my parents show up in my dreams, but couldn’t believe my good luck today to wake up after a visit from Mom.

Vernal Pool 1: Oh Baby(ies)

~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

Once the snow and ice began to melt, I started making almost daily visits to “My” vernal pool, located about a quarter of a mile from our house, and only a hop, skip, and jump, well maybe a few hops, skips, and jumps, from the cowpath, and more importantly, on neighbors’ property.

I met the neighbors for the first time last November when I spotted them walking their dog through their woods as I looked for any insects on trees. They were breaking branches to create a sorta trail, and I encouraged them to walk the cowpath instead because it’s flat and I try to keep it cleared of downed branches.

It was upon our second encounter when they did actually use the cowpath (and have done so regularly since though our paths haven’t crossed in months) that I asked them if they knew about the vernal pool. They did not. The dog was a rescue and they’d only had her for a few months and she was the reason they were out walking in the woods.

Being my blunt self, I did ask that they not bring their dog to the vernal pool in the spring and explained about the Wood Frogs and Spotted Salamanders who use it as a breeding pond. Yeegads. But they didn’t take it to be rude, and instead told me that they think they have another vernal pool elsewhere on their land, closer to their house. Then they invited me to walk in their woods and explore anytime. Um, I thanked them and admitted that I’ve been doing that for years; I just don’t go close to the house.

At last, about two weeks ago, the ice went out. But . . . there was no action. It was cold and seemed to snow every other day and the ground was still frozen and the breeders just weren’t ready. I waited.

Finally, on Sunday, April 13, 2025, we had some rain, and our local Big Night celebration was announced via text and email messages. Big Night is that night(s) when it’s been raining in the afternoon and evening and the roads are wet, and volunteers head out to locations close to home to help amphibians cross the road without getting smooshed. Or help most of them.

We didn’t hear any Wood Frogs or Spring Peepers as we approached the pool of our attention that night (not “My” vernal pool, which is thankfully not near a road), so we weren’t sure if we’d see any action. And others south and east of us had been posting for a week that they’d only found one or two frogs during any given rain event. Still, we went. And were glad we did because we helped a total of 158 Wood Frogs (including the one pictured above) and Peepers that night. There were still a few smooshed, but as always, we reminded ourselves that they become food for other critters.

Given that success, the next afternoon I visited “My” pool and heard not a peep upon my approach. But I did what I do, and stood as still as possible upon a rock at the edge, and within a few minutes this male Wood Frog surfaced.

And I decided that this year I am going to try to be more present at the pool and try to get to know all who venture in and around it, including Chippy, on an eternal search for seeds to stuff into his cheeks.

Mid-morning Tuesday found me making my way to the pool again and this time, I could hear the “Wruck, Wruck” calls of the male Wood Frogs as I approached. Spring has finally sprung. Oh, and the crocuses have finally bloomed. Beaked Hazelnuts with their tiny yet exquisite magenta flowers as well.

And then, my first peek into the pool, and there it was, a Wood Frog egg mass about the size of a wiffle ball and I wondered if it had been there on Monday and I just hadn’t seen it.

As always, I stood still, and as always, it took the frogs a few minutes to surface, but suddenly they were everywhere, and probably wishing, if frogs can do such a thing, that I would leave so they could begin their mating chorus again.

But I stayed. And wondered. Why is it that a Gray Squirrel, like the Chipmunk, can scamper about and rustle the leaves and make all kinds of noise and the frogs continue to float upon the surface, but the minute I flinch, they dive to the bottom and hide under leaves for minutes on end?

I did decide to change positions after a bit of enjoying the sight of so many frogs, because I wanted to see if there were any egg masses at the western end of the pool, but discovered none.

I did spy a bunch of Cluster Flies by the edge of the water.

And in the water, I watched Mosquitoes larvae wiggle about and a Predaceous Diving Beetle lift its butt to the surface to fill the air bubble located under its wings or elytra.

And then the Beetle surprised me and after swimming under the small log, it climbed onto it and gave me a whole different perspective for I never think about them as fliers, but they have strong wings and can do such, especially if the pool they are in dries up and they need to get to another pool. Apparently they are also attracted to lights, another reason not to keep outdoor lights on all night.

My morning visit came to an end when the frog nearest to me dove down and hid under the leaf cover. Well, sorta hid. Do you see it?

I was so taken with the pool, that I returned again in the afternoon. And this time I spotted something I’d missed in the morning. A more recently deposited egg mass. I suspect it had been there for at least a few hours because it was already bigger than a quarter, which is the size they are at first.

During this visit, I also spotted Whirligig Beetles gyrating around each other in breakneck speed, creating ripples everywhere.

And male Wood Frogs ever on the look out for a date.

In fact, so anxious were they that sometimes one male tried to grasp another, but the one underneath quickly squealed and swam away.

Then I spotted another old friend or its relative and wondered if the Long-jawed Orb Weaver that had created a perfect web between branches over the water was one that I’d photographed on the snow this past winter. Probably not. But a woman can dream.

Later in the afternoon on Tuesday it began to rain and while the storm didn’t last too long, it was enough to wet the roads and again the word went out for Big Night #2. This time there were a few Spotted Salamanders on the move as well.

The next photo may disturb you, so you may want to skip over it.

I included this picture of two squished female Wood Frogs because this is what happens when we drive by vernal pools and other wetlands on rainy nights. And I added the arrows to show the egg sacs that had popped out as the tires drove over these ladies.

We let out a communal groan as we heard the pop, and then made this discovery, trying to ease the moment by reminding ourselves that they would become food for others, but still . . . reinforcing the reason why we’ve been celebrating Big Night(s) on this local road for at least 25 years of organized events and I suspect many more before that.

All told for saves on Tuesday night: 836 live Wood Frogs, Spring Peepers, Spotted Salamanders, plus at least one Green Frog and one Eastern Newt.

That was a BIG night! And many thanks to Dawn and Maggie for organizing it.

And from the sound of the “Wrucks” on Wednesday, which was louder than the day before, I knew the ladies had returned to “My” pool as well. And the guys were feeling successful.

Within a minute of standing there, I looked down and spotted a couple embraced in what is known as Wood Frog amplexus, the smaller and darker male being on top with his forelegs wrapped around her, just above her enlarged belly.

She seemed to be in full control as she moved about the twigs, looking for a good location to deposit her eggs.

I thought the first spot was perfect because it was located near another egg mass and Wood Frogs tend to deposit their eggs in communal colonies, the better to avoid predation–especially if yours are among the first and are surrounding by other egg masses, and therefore protected.

Scanning the pool, I spotted another couple and decided that going forward they need names, so this is Couple 2.

Meanwhile, Couple 1 continued to move about the same set of twigs.

And then near my rock, Couple 3 appeared.

There were also lone males, and because it was breezy, no one seemed to mind my presence. In fact, a couple of males in the western corner even “Wrucked” a few times.

Couple 2 found a larger branch and hung out there.

But Couple 1, they were on the move again.

This time testing a different set of twigs. All I could do was wonder exactly what she was looking for. What made a prime location prime?

I don’t have the answer and probably never will, but still couldn’t believe my good fortune to have all three couples right there by my feet.

And then . . . and then Couple 1 swam off and disappeared under a recently fallen tree and I thought, “That’s a good place because there are so many branches to choose from,” but at the same time I was disappointed because I figured I’d never see the rest of the story.

Until . . . they swam back out and approached the twig of their first choice.

And seemed to be making a move to settle upon it.

Only they didn’t. Instead, they swam to another twig that they’d tried earlier; one that had no other egg masses.

And suddenly, right before my eyes, she began to lay eggs, which he fertilized externally. Can you see the black and white dots between their hind legs?

I could not believe I was finally witnessing this amazing moment. Magic in the making.

My body was stiff from standing so still, but it was so worth the effort.

With her hind legs, and I may be wrong about this, she appeared to be wrapping the mass around the stick so it would be well attached.

The eggs are black and white, the Pied Pattern, the top of the egg being dark so predators from above may not see it because it more closely matches the dark leaves and muck on the floor of the pool, and white on the bottom so that predators within the pool will think it’s just sky.

So, as luck would have it, and I was feeling super lucky and grateful for the opportunity to observe, my camera battery died. And the back-up battery was at home. (Note to self: carry it in my pocket.)

I pulled out the next best thing and shot this photo with my iPhone. He eventually moved off of her, but not too far away, probably exhausted from all the effort. And she remained below the quarter-size egg mass for a few more minutes.

As for the other two couples, one disappeared under the fallen tree and the other went under the leaves below my rock, perhaps seeking privacy.

Finally, I took my leave. With a huge smile on my face.

Oh Baby(ies), I know your parents will leave the pool soon, but I’ll be there to watch over you. Maybe not daily, but frequently for as long as the pool holds water, being ephemeral as it is.

Marching into the Vernal Pool

~ lmachayes ~ 6 Comments

I’ve lived in Maine for just shy of 40 years and can barely recall the month of March going out like a lamb, as the saying goes.

It’s certainly true that once again this year the ending of the month is more lion-like with an overnight and morning snowstorm, with freezing rain on the horizon for tonight and tomorrow, followed by a warm-up and rain on Monday.

That all said, March snow doesn’t last long.

But still . . . it has me dreaming. Remember, I LOVE winter, but am as ready for spring as the next person.

And so I spent much of today (when not shoveling, which really didn’t take long) holed up in my wee studio where I’ve been working on a vernal pool series of paintings.

The idea for this post actually came to me in a dream last night–why not turn those paintings into a blog post. Why not?

Because, it’s scary to share creative works with the world. But, I am probably my own worst critic. My instructor, Jessie, always reminds me to put my inner critic into a box, place the cover on top, and get to work. And besides, by sharing here, I can hide behind the screen. She wants those of us in her class to host an art show, but I refuse to do that. It’s much more comfortable for me this way.

I’ve only been painting since last May, but let’s not let that be an excuse. The thing is, working with gouache paints means I can easily edit, much like writing. And believe me, I have. My motto has always been that there’s no such thing as a final draft–whether it be an article for a magazine or a work of art.

Have you noticed that I’m procrastinating? And putting all of my excuses out there.

It’s snowing again.

All right, I’m almost ready. But here’s the other thing–in sharing these with you, may you be inspired to do something you never imagined and discover that the time you spend doing such is most enjoyable and it’s easy to get “lost” and just plain have fun and decide that even though the “end product” isn’t exactly what you first set out to create, it’s still half decent and you had the most delightful time sitting quietly as is my custom, doing just that: creating.

And now . . . for a look back as a way to look forward to a vernal pool as it emerges from winter or early spring, or mud season, or almost spring but still winter, or whatever season this is.

Pine and hemlock needles and branches from winter storms coat the ice as it slowly begins to melt along the edge of the pool, providing a glimpse of the sunken leaves below, where life awaits.

Once the ice finally melts, barren trees offer a reflection that speaks to winter, but there’s hope in their buds.

And no sooner has the ice gone out, when upon my approach I hear “Wruck, wruck,” and know that the Wood Frogs have returned to their natal breeding grounds. At first, they dive as soon as they hear me approach. But I stand still, sometimes for up to fifteen minutes, and ever so slowly, one by one, they rise to the surface and float.

It’s the lucky male who has the best “Wruck, wruck,” that finds a mate. He clasps her with his forelegs and as she begins to deposit eggs, he fertilizes them externally.

I return a couple of days later, in the late afternoon, and can’t believe my good luck. The pool is coated in pollen and the sun hits it in such a way that I see a rainbow of colors and love how the tree reflections are in two orientations upon still water.

A few weeks later, looking deep into the pool, which isn’t really all that deep, I notice blobs of eggs clustered together in a mass that has a tapioca-like shape to it and notice little life forms moving about in the shape of tadpoles. I feel like a proud momma. The thing is, the Wood Frogs mate, she lays eggs he’s fertilized and within two weeks, the parents are long gone, back to their woodland setting. And so I do feel protective parent–or maybe foster parent–keeping watch and celebrating achievements.

Another life form who uses the pool as a natal breeding spot is the spotted salamander and though I tend to mostly spy them on Big Night, I can tell by egg masses left behind that they have visited.

Their egg masses are a wee bit different from the Wood Frog masses, in that they have a gelatinous coating around the entire grouping, so they don’t look so tapioca-like. Mosquito larvae, tumblers at this stage, also wiggle about in the water.

And if I’m lucky, though this has never happened at the pool behind our house, I might see a fairy shrimp or dozens.

So here’s the thing: 40 Wood Frog egg masses make a pool significant; OR 20 Spotted Salamander egg masses; OR 10 Blue Spotted or Jefferson Salamander egg masses; OR a single, yes one, Fairy Shrimp. And this one is a female, as noted by the sac of dark eggs she carries.

Fairy Shrimp are cool because in order for eggs to be viable, the pool must dry out. And they can survive being dry for multiple years. And in any given year, not all eggs will hatch, thus saving some in the bank for another year or ten.

Hanging out by the pool, Green Frogs are always willing to dine on whatever is available. So the Green Frog has dorsal lateral folds (or bumps) along either side of its back that start behind the eyes.

The Bullfrog differs in that the line behind the eye circles around the tympanum (ear drum) and ends.

Here’s the other thing to remember: Males have tympanums larger than their eyes; females are smaller or equal to eye size.

And I like to think of this painting as a Frog-ersation.

This week I actually framed two paintings to send to friends, the Bullfrog being one of them.

There. I did it. Survived the art show.

As I bring this to a close, I realize there’s one more painting I should add to the collection, but I’ll save it to paint another day.

Thank you for marching into the vernal pool with me. I hope you are glad you did.

Happy Belated 10th Anniversary, wondermyway.com

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

I can’t believe I missed the date by two days. I’d been planning this for months. Well, in the back of my mind, that is. No actual thoughts were jotted down on paper. I just knew what I wanted to do and when I wanted to do it . . . until I forgot. Or rather, it slipped my mind. Momentarily.

No harm done.

As the saying goes, “There’s no time like the present,” and so my gift to you dear readers will be to give you the present of time by taking you back to the beginning of wondermyway and then making our way to the present. And all of it is because I was given the gift of being present in the moment on so many occasions. Egads. That’s a lot of presents. And presence.

Wonder My Way

My first blog post was published on February 21, 2015, and entitled Wonder My Way. It began with these paragraphs: Wonder my way as I wander through the Maine woods. So often I see things that make me stop and wonder. Sometimes I figure it out, but other times, I’m just as happy that I don’t. It’s The Sense of Wonder that Rachel Carson wrote about which keeps me going. Do we need to have all the answers? I think not.

So join me for a tramp from our woodlot to the world beyond. I know not where this trail will take us, but I can guarantee that we’ll have fun along the way. Read more . . .

Spring in Slo-Mo

Spring is so fleeting in Maine. Oh, I know, it lasts the usual three months and the beginning and ending overlap with its seasonal partners, but really . . . one must take time to pause and watch or you’ll miss the most amazing action that occurs in slow motion right outside the window–and beyond.

For those who are new to my blog, Jinny Mae, who is featured in this and many blog posts, was a dear friend whose name I turned in to an alias as she faced cancer courageously and rather privately. In the end, the cancer consumed her, but the things we enjoyed along the way were bountiful, including this spring adventure to an incredible space in our little neck of the woods. Read more . . .

Universal Love

Written on Valentine’s Day, this post was dedicated to My Guy and all who wander and wonder with me.

When I wander, hearts frequently speak to me . . . Read more . . .

Nothing To Grouse About

I shared a unique experience with five other naturalists, the majority of them in the six to eleven age range. For twenty minutes the six of us watched a Ruffed Grouse at it moved about, overturning leaves and foraging on buds. When we last saw it, the bird headed off in the opposite direction that we intended to journey, and so we moved on with wonder in our eyes and minds.

And then the next day I returned on a mission to study some twigs at the same property. No sooner had I stepped onto the trail when I heard the sound of leaves cracking a wee bit and what to my wondering eyes should appear but the same bird.

The curious thing: the bird followed me, staying about ten feet away as I tramped on. I stopped. Frequently. So did the bird.

And we began to chat. I talked quietly to him (I’m making a gender assumption) and he murmured back sweet nothings. Read more . . .

Amazing Race–Our Style

Okay, so My Guy and I have enjoyed The Amazing Race show over the years and felt like there were some challenges either or both of us could face, but others that neither of us would dare attempt. And so . . . I created our own version.

The thing is that until I take the time to change the order of this post on my website, you’d be best to start at the bottom and read each entry, going up one step at a time. As in, this: Scroll down to February 18 on this link and then after reading that entry, make your way up one episode at a time, until you reach the last recorded on February 2, 2019. Oh heck, read it in any order that pleases you. Just get into the spirit of the race I created cuze I certainly had fun with it. And fooled a few people along the way.

The Amazing Race–Our Style

I’m sure when we said our wedding vows back in 1990, there was something in there about only riding a snowmobile once. And I did that once two years or so ago–mostly because I knew it would please my guy. Certain memories remain from that experience: I felt like a bobblehead inside the helmet; I lacked control as I sat behind him and couldn’t see; when I did peek around, I was sure my head was going to strike a tree so narrow was the trail; and I didn’t like the speed. Oh yeah, and at a road crossing, I do believe I jumped off and walked to the other side. With all of that in mind, I’m not sure what I was thinking when I created a Valentine’s gift for him–our very own Amazing Race. Read more . . .

wondermyway turns five

Five years ago today (ten now!) I turned from taking a hundred million photos on each tramp to taking a hundred million photos and writing about them.

Typically, on the anniversary I scan the past year’s posts and choose one from each month, providing a photo to represent it, with a brief (or not so brief) comment and link to the full read.

But . . . because this is a milestone I never imagined reaching (posts: 733; views: 76,793; visitors: 44371; followers: 578), I thought I’d take the time to thank you, the readers, for wandering through the wonders with me.

Thank you! Read more . . .

Dragonfly Whisperer Whispers

We had no intention of eating lunch in this spot today, but while looking for a mountain to climb, we kept encountering full parking lots and so our backroad meander put us beside a bog at lunch time and voilà, we managed to walk all of less than two tenths of a mile. Total.

But in that short distance, our eyes feasted. First it was all the Painted Turtles basking in the sun. Read more . . .

Surveying the Wildlife of Charles Pond

For the past two weeks at Greater Lovell Land Trust we’ve had the good fortune to conduct a wildlife survey in the waters that surround the newly acquired Charles Pond Reserve in Stow, Maine. Our hats are off to Alanna Doughty of Lakes Environmental Association (LEA) for her willingness to be the lead on this project and work in collaboration with us. Alanna, you see, has conducted previous surveys for Maine Inland Wildlife & Fisheries (MDIFW) at LEA properties, and was trained by wildlife biologist Derek Yorks to set these up.

MDIFW maintains a comprehensive database on the distribution of Maine’s amphibians and reptiles, as well as terrestrial and freshwater invertebrates and the data we’ve collected will add to the bigger picture. What we discovered was just as important as what we didn’t find. Read more . . .

Hightailing It Home

Friends,
At the risk
of sounding redundant,
I bring forth
a prickly topic.

A quick glance
while surveying treetops
and suddenly
my heart sang
as I spotted
a well-armored back.

Read more . . .

Happy 9th Birthday, wondermyway!

Thank you to all who read and comment and share wondermyway.com. Some of you have followed my blog posts since the beginning, February 21, 2015. A few have joined the journey as recently as yesterday. I’m grateful for the presence of all of you in my life.

To mark this occasion, I thought I’d reflect upon those moments when my wonder gave me a glimpse of the “Thin Places” that I’ve experienced either by myself or in the company of others.

To quote my friend, Ev Lennon, “A Thin Place is a spot of beauty, loveliness, space–an example of the wideness and grandeur of Creation.”

I think of them as places that you don’t plan a trip to visit, but rather . . . stumble upon.

Read more . . .

And that brings me to this year and this anniversary, belated as it may be. I can’t believe it’s been ten years since I started this endeavor, which has served as my diary and memory, and been a place for me to share so many incredible extraordinary ordinary experiences with all of you. Thank you for being faithful readers.

As I compare the numbers to year five, I haven’t written as often in the last five years, but your support has been incredible.

wondermyway.com by the numbers:

Posts: 1,076

Visitors: 135,888

Views: 205,389 and increasing constantly.

The most popular post of this new year was Giving Thanks for the Pileated Woodpecker. So far, anyway.

The Giant’s Shower

And since I retired as Education Director for a local land trust just over a year ago, I’ve added some other fun to the mix.

I did a thing. Years ago I wrote a children’s story. Well, a bunch of them actually. And I tried to sell this particular one to publishing houses. No takers. Then, a couple of years ago I purchased a Fairy Coloring Book created by the one and only Solana, teenage daughter of the Fly Away Farm Wards in Lovell and Stow, Maine, and approached her about illustrating my fairy tale. She took on the task and did an amazing job. Then I asked copyeditor Pam Marshall to wave her magic wand over it. And I asked local graphic designer Dianne Lewis to use some fairy dust and turn it into an actual book. I always said I’d never self-publish a book. And tada: I did just that. And now it’s even better because it’s published by http://www.indieauthorbooks.com.

Read more . . .

My Art Gallery

At the end of April I began taking an art class offered by one of my peeps, a young woman who walked into the lives of many of us one day about twenty months ago; a young woman with a million talents to offer. Among those talents, she is a self-taught artist and we’ve been begging her to teach us.

At our first class, we had to draw a small box in the upper left-hand corner of the paper and place the person who has been our biggest art critic into it. That done, the critic was forever boxed–well, until she sneaks out, which she seems to do way too much.

And then we looked at some photographs in magazines and had to sketch them and determine the direction the eye would travel in the picture.

Next we looked at lines and perspective. I’d brought along my favorite colored pencils, but immediately felt my inner critic jump on me because all of my classmates were working with watercolor pencils, watercolor paint or acrylics. And the artist herself, gouache. Until I met her, I’d never even heard of gouache. Or at least never paid attention, if I had.

Read more . . .

Lake Living on Lake Region Television!

And we said goodbye to Lake Living magazine, a glossy publication I’ve worked on since 2006.

We are movie stars! Well, maybe not quite. But, many, many thanks to Evan Miller of Lake Region Television for filming and editing Laurie LaMountain, owner and publisher of Lake Living magazine, and me recently as we said, “Fare Thee Well,” to working on this publication.

Read more . . .

And in the midst of it all, I still have the good fortune to share the trail with so many others . . .

and especially with My Guy, who is forever patient as I pause to consider the wonder of the moment.

My heart-felt thanks to him and to all of you for joining me so often as I wondermyway.

Wowza–ten years! I never imagined. No time like the present to wish wondermyway.com a belated 10th anniversary.

My Artistic Path

~ lmachayes ~ 9 Comments

In a way, this is A Lost Art Found continued. It’s the rest of the story, at least to this date.

Once I got hooked on painting, I couldn’t stop. What I’ve discovered is that it’s a lot like writing. You choose a topic, which for me so far has been from a photograph I’ve taken as I’m afraid to purchase an easel and try plein air; complete an outline or at least jot down notes to get an idea of where you are going with the topic in the form of a values sketch; choose how to frame the story whether upon watercolor paper or canvas, and the media being watercolors, acrylics, or gouache; begin a first draft of sketching a wee bit on the mat of choice and apply a light colored wash; paint the basic shapes to get the story on paper which may be more representational than factual; and then tweak, tweak, tweak, which sometimes takes me eighteen drafts to get to a publishable product, and even then, I know more changes can be made.

But here’s the thing. I’m brand new to this art form. And thanks to Jessie, my teacher/mentor, I’ve learned a lot and still have more to learn. Then what’s the thing? The thing is that in every painting I’ve completed so far, there’s plenty I can critique, but at least one thing that I like and so that’s what I want to focus on. The rest I can learn . . . down the road.

After our spring session of classes ended, I decided to keep going on my own.

The view from the summit of Blueberry Mountain, Evans Notch, New Hampshire, looking toward Shell Pond below and the mountains beyond. My fav: the shape of the pond.

Frenchmen’s Hole in Newry, Maine. My fav: the color of the water, darker in the depths and lighter as if flowed over rocks to the next fall.

Sunrise, Lubec, Maine. My fav: the rope in the foreground. And the sky.

Carsley Brook, Lake Environmental Association’s Highland Research Forest, Bridgton, Maine. My fav: the trees leaning across the brook.

Lady’s Slippers from any of our counts as a gift for My Guy, who I’ve learned only likes to count them when they are in bloom. Since that season, he can’t be bothered to note the leaves or occasional seed pods and is praying it snows soon so I won’t continue to point them out. My fav: the shape of the flowers.

The fire tower at the summit of Pleasant Mountain. My fav: a sense of perspective with the mountains.

All of these were watercolor paintings. And then . . .

I purchased some gouache and painted Hemlock Covered Bridge. My fav: the bridge and the reflection, but also the lesson that this was a bit like completing a paint by number as I broke it up into different sections.

Fall reflection cropped from a river scene. My fav: All of it. It was like painting a jigsaw puzzle. And i loved creating the wavy lines.

Winter along Heald Pond Road, Lovell, Maine. The interesting thing is that this barn was taken down a few weeks after I painted this scene. My fav: the barn boards and the snow. And my learning–painting the lower background before adding the foreground trees.

Our barn at Christmas. My fav: The reflection in the window.

Interior of Hemlock Covered Bridge in Fryeburg, Maine. My fav: sense of perspective.

Sunlit part of spider web inside Hemlock Covered Bridge on mat canvas. My fav: texture of the boards and light between boards.

Bob Dunning Memorial Bridge, Pondicherry Park, Bridgton, Maine. My fav: the different beams that provide support as each represents a different species of native wood.

Approaching Bob Dunning Memorial Bridge on a snowy day when no one else had yet entered Pondicherry Park in Bridgton, Maine. My fav: the bend in the bridge.

Beaver at Albany Mountain trail, Bethel, Maine. My fav: the beaver’s face.

Denning Black Bear. Location a well-kept secret. My fav: the eyes.

Painted Turtle, Moose Pond, Maine. On mat canvas. My fav: colors of the water.

In August, Jessie offered a second class and we had to stuff our art critics in a box in the upper corner of the paper and leave them locked inside and then jot down what we wanted to work on for this session. She also had us take a look at Van Gogh’s style of outlining and bringing focus together.

And then, from a photo of our own, we tried to emulate the famous artist. This was a rough draft that I never finished. My fav: I love the colors and simplicity of it.

A second attempt at emulating Van Gogh. My fav: the trees in the background.

Third try. The sky was different. My fav: getting better at perspective.

In between classes I continued to paint. One of my absolute favs: Bandit! The porcupine I met in the yard last year. My fav: His face.

A Moose My Guy and I met in the beaver pond on Albany Mountain Trail, Bethel, Maine. My fav: His face.

What’s left of the Hayes Homestead, My Guy’s great-grandparents’ farm in Nova Scotia. My fav: shingles.

An amazing moment when I visited the vernal pool out back as the sun lowered and discovered that in the stillness of the water, a rainbow was created by the pollen, and while the tree shadows draped across the pond, they also were visible in their usual vertical presentation on the water. My fav: colors of the sunlight on the pollen.

Back to class and learning more about values. I have to admit that I don’t always heed this advice and do a values sketch before painting.

Photo of Ovens Cave, Nova Scotia.

Cropping the photo in sketches.

One final sketch before painting.

First attempt in gouache. My fav: colors of the rocks.

Jessie taught us a neat trick to check values by using a filter on our phones.

Trying to be more abstract with the same scene. My fav: the color of the water.

Values photo of the same.

The third time we met we talked about basic shapes and had to quickly paint trees. It was supposed to be six trees, but our class only got through four. I guess we weren’t so quick after all. My fav: the willow. But also thinking about different shapes. And how to fill them in quickly.

Hairy Coo My Guy and I met in Scotland. My fav: the ear tag!

Values sketch of photo she offered in class, and getting the basic shapes on paper.

And then we could only use certain colors to paint the scene, filling in the shapes first before adding detail. This was mind opening for me. My fav: making blobs look like trees.

The same scene using different complementary colors on the wheel. I struggled with the values in this one. My fav: the trees still look like trees.

This one has been the most difficult for my family to understand. An intersection of granite ledges and tree roots on Bald Pate Mountain, Bridgton, Maine, on a canvas mat. My fav: the tree roots.

Ledges on descent of Rumford Whitecap Mountain, Rumford, Maine. My fav: the trees with the mountain backdrop.

Bickford Slides, Blueberry Mountain, Evans Notch, Maine. And the discovery that I had accidentally purchased a small tube of shimmery white watercolor paint. My fav: water flowing over the mossy rocks.

Shadows across Hemlock Bridge Road, Fryeburg, Maine. My fav: those very shadows. And the rocks that line the road.

Back to gouache to capture the reflection of a falling down cabin on a small pond in New Hampshire. My fav: the trees and hints of the blue sky.

The final assignment took us two classes. This is the scene I chose to paint. Sucker Brook at Greater Lovell Land Trust’s Wilson Wing Moose Pond Bog Reserve, Lovell, Maine.

Planning with sketches, markers, and paint and figuring out what might work best. And simplifying the scene.

Jessie gave me a piece of Hot Press Finish paper upon which to work, and I have to admit that it was a joy to paint on this. I started with the sky color as the wash and then worked on the snow next, then the water, and finally the trees. My fav: sunlight reflected on the snow in the background.

After I shared that painting with a friend, she commented, “Can’t you do something other than snow until there is snow?” So, I painted a fall scene at the summit of Bald Pate. The mountain tops are not quite this color yet, but will be in a couple of weeks. My fav: contrast of colors.

My last painting to date on a larger canvas sheet was a Pileated Woodpecker that frequents our woods. I discovered, like the Hot Press paper, I really like the canvas except that it takes a while for the paint to dry. My fav: the bird’s head and the pine tree bark on the right.

That’s all I have to offer at the moment. And if you stuck with me this far, I’m impressed. Thank you!

I keep thinking about this creative journey and can’t wait to see where it takes me next. If you are interested, you can follow my artistic path by clicking on wmw art gallery every once in a while.

One Minute of Vernal Pool Fame

~ lmachayes ~ 8 Comments

Since November, newly minted Maine Master Naturalist Dawn Wood and I have co-led a program we call Wednesday Wanders for Loon Echo Land Trust in Bridgton, Maine. This past week, channel 8 WMTW reporter Jacob Murphy and his videographer Ethan joined us for a tramp into a vernal pool at LELT’s Tiger Hill Community Forest in Sebago.

Here’s the clip: Hometown Maine: Sebago

Take a listen as Aurora, Marie, and Henry comment on the experience. It’s this and soooo much more.

Somewhere Under The Rainbow

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Somehow we thought the rain wouldn’t fall upon our hike today, until it did. And so we sat in the truck for about 15-20 minutes, waiting for the drops to slow down, which they did.

The rain, however, enhanced everything. And as the sun came out, the water and warmth combined to create a Black Fly Festival, one which will last for several more weeks.

But, April/May showers do bring May flowers, and I sooo love the pastel colors that Hobblebush produces, its non-fertile showy flowers on the edge meant to entice insects to visit about a hundred tiny fertile flowers preparing to bloom in the center.

In wet seeps, Round-leaf Yellow Violets did show off their cheery faces, with violet-veined runways showing the way to the nectary, much like lights at an airfield that aid landings.

And fortunately My Guy didn’t question the fact that I was taking more photos of Red Trillium, for I’ve hardly reached the trillion I intend to take. Really though, in a few weeks our attention will turn toward his beloved Lady’s Slippers, and there are comparatively fewer trilliums than slippers in the forests through which we wander.

Because of the rain, Lungwort, a foliose lichen consisting of a fungus and a green algal partner living together in a symbiotic relationship with a cyanobacterium, showed off its greenliness since the alga had kicked into action to provide food for the fungal structure. It’s sensitive to air pollution and habitat loss, so spotting it is always a treat and reminds us of why we love living here in western Maine.

Below the summit, we paused to share lunch with the Black Flies and take in the view of the mountains, though many were obscured by the cloud cover.

On our descent, there were more hues of green to add to the art palette in the form of the larger Rock Tripe, an umbilicate foliose lichen, and Rock Tuft Moss scattered in its midst.

At a beaver pond, we noted several beaver lodges that looked abandoned and a long dam, but it was the reflection of the sky and clouds that also garnered our attention. The day had transformed as was visible both above and below.

Back at home, I wandered out to the vernal pool to check on the activity. A few days ago I realized that tadpoles were beginning to emerge from egg masses, and today’s warmer weather brought even more into the picture, which in this case included both what I could see under water, as well as the reflection of trees and sky upon the water.

It was when I stopped looking into the depths, however, and focused upon the scene before me, that I realized I was seeing something I’ve never noticed before.

As I had approached the pool, I saw that it had a coating of Birch and Maple pollen and thought with a smile of a fourth grader spotting such last year and looking confused as he asked me if it was ice. No Daniel, it’s not ice. But his initial reaction made sense.

What I noticed today was that the pollen added a rainbow to the water’s surface as the sun got lower in the sky. Yellow by the far shore, orange, red, purple, blue, and green.

So, what caused this rainbow to appear? I’m a huge fan of taking a stick to a Balsam Fir blister to gather some resin and then tossing it into a puddle or still water to watch the natural resins or essential oils appear. Was that happening here?

Maybe this was from decaying vegetation and the sun being at the right angle?

Maybe it had something to do with the pollen as well as the sun’s angle?

I don’t know, but certainly it was fun that this day which began with rain, and showed off a variety of vibrant colors during our five-mile hike, should end somewhere under the rainbow.

The Extraordinary Ordinary

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

I love to venture off and explore other places but more and more I feel drawn to just head out the back door and see what this land of field and forest and vernal pools and puddles has to offer. And so I do. Almost daily.

It’s land where the Red Maples are in full flowering mode, this cluster being male, each with five to ten slender stamens.

As beautiful as the flowers are, one of the real reasons I head out so often right now is that the vernal pools are full of egg masses, both Wood Frog and Spotted Salamander. Somehow, this year, except during Big Night, I missed the Wood Frog activity in the pools I frequent, but by the amount of egg masses, I know they were there.

What cracks me up is that it isn’t just vernal pools that are used for the canoodling ritual. Sometimes, if there’s a rut on the way to the pool and he decides to start calling, and she responds, well, you know how it goes.

And so it must have, for this one mass is in the rut pictured above.

It reminded me of the two sets of Wood Frogs we had to gently move off the road during Big Night. They couldn’t even wait until they found a rut.

It’s only been about two or three weeks since the eggs were laid and fertilized, and already the embryos are taking on their tadpole shape.

In another location, I spotted a Spotted Salamander egg mass that was also deposited about two weeks ago, at a time when snow melt and rain were the norm. We’ve had some rain since then, but the tide is quickly going down in the pools. Wait. There is no tide in these. Being rain/snowmelt dependent, the water is quickly evaporating and this mass probably will become food for something rather than turn into 100 or so salamander tadpoles.

But in “My” vernal pool, where I put “My” in quotes because I don’t actually own the land upon which it is located, I just think I do, the salamander embryos are also taking form.

Of course, when one is stooped over and staring into the water, there’s more to see like this Water Strider. Water Striders are so cool as they skate along the surface thanks to some hairs at the ends of their legs that we can’t see. At least I can’t. Those hairs don’t get wet and instead attract water molecules. I placed an arrow on the photo because the shadow a strider creates with what appear to be larger than life feet speaks to this adaptation.

And in this case, the arrow points to a Water Boatman. I love how his tiger-like body design, though not intentionally, mimics the oak leaf above which he swam. Unlike the skating strider, a Water Boatman uses its hind legs as oars.

In one of the shallowest pools I know of outback, Mosquito and Caddisfly Larvae move about, the first suspended in the water column just below the surface, breathing air through tubes at the end of the abdomen. The Northern Case Maker Caddisflies took advantage of all the plant material, including a Red Maple flower to add a bit of class to its house.

When I wasn’t looking into water, I did notice a few other things like about five or six Greater Bee Flies frequenting one area. The cool thing about bee flies is that they do look like bees, but don’t sting. While they feed on nectar, they also parasitize the nests of solitary bees and I have to wonder if that was what their behavior was about.

Several Six-spotted Tiger Beetles with their metallic green coloring, dashed here and there, always on the move as they looked for other insects to devour. Here’s the thing about these beetles–not all have six white spots, or even any spots.

Speaking of spots, I love the violet-blue markings on a Mourning Cloak Butterfly. This species overwinters under tree bark and other protected places as adults, so they are one of the earliest for us to encounter in the spring, along with Question Mark and Comma Butterflies. And then we get to enjoy a second brood in the autumn that will hibernate as adults.

So it’s not all about insects, though I suspect if I look hard enough I will find one in this photo. But it was the first Bluet of the season that I needed to note. Sure, they’ll be commonplace soon, but this one is the harbinger. And it was enhanced by the contrasting red caps of some British Soldier lichens.

As I walked toward home this afternoon, this Turkey Vulture rode the thermals and I took its photo to honor my neighbor for she alerted me Monday to the fact that she’d spotted some vultures and a Bald Eagle in our ‘hood, and we met on Tuesday afternoon to search for a kill site in an orchard behind some other houses. We didn’t find anything, but I love that she was curious. And that occasionally we share natural occurrences with each other and sometimes walk the same stretches of land. Thank you, Karen.

Back home, I was surprised to find these two sharing a feeder, a female Purple Finch on the left and male Cardinal on the right. She would squawk at other finches, but not at the Cardinal. And so they fed simultaneously for a while. If only we could all take a lesson from them.

As a self-confessed home body, I love how the land that surrounds my house and beyond has been my classroom for so long now (30+years), and that it has taught me to celebrate the extraordinary found in everything ordinary.

One Night, Two Nights, Three Nights…

~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

It was a dark and dreary night. Repeat. It was a dark and dreary night. Repeat. It was a dark and dreary night.

While most folks would choose to stay inside curled up by the fire while drinking a hot toddy, a number of intrepid community scientists ranging in age from 3 to 70+, donned rain gear (even waders) and reflective vests, cleansed hands of soap and moisturizer, grabbed flashlights and headlamps, and met at 7:30pm in the pre-determined locations.

Their mission each night was the same: Help us help frogs and salamanders cross the road to avoid getting squished by vehicles.

The names and ages of participants changed each night, but the leadership remained the same. As Maine Master Naturalists, Dawn Wood (who took the lead on organizing these events and recording data–a daunting task in the rain and dark and with people spread out and shouting numbers and species at her), Hadley Couraud, and I led the way, all three of us providing information about the different critters and their behavior as the evening progressed. All of this was under the umbrella (pun intended–though no one actually had an umbrella) of Loon Echo Land Trust in Bridgton, Maine. Thank you to Maggie Lynn for creating the sign-up forms, advertising the events, and keeping us posted.

The technique was easy. Once we reached the location of the vernal pool, to which amphibians return each year from their upland habitat, we started scanning the road with our lights. It’s amazing how the mica, small rocks, sticks, and lichens can fool us.

It’s equally amazing how much tiny Spring Peepers resemble small rocks. And how stone cold they are when we lift them up. And how they’d rather stay in our hands than return to the cold earth.

We always noted the direction in which they were headed and that’s the side of the road we took them to, even if it didn’t make sense to us. They knew what they were up to and we were there only to try to keep them alive so they could canoodle for a few nights before heading out of the pools and back to the forest.

Meet a Spring Peeper up close and personal. Note those little toes, which are actually suction cups of a sort, the better to climb vegetation, especially at the edge of or in a wetland, and then to sing their high-pitched songs that announce the males intention of finding a date. Because of the toe pads, peepers were originally thought to be closely related to Tree Frogs but they have since been reassigned as chorus frogs in the genus Pseudacris, which comes from the Greek pseudes (false) and akris (locust) (think of our Dog Day Cicadas and their raspy love songs in the summer).

The species name, crucifer comes from the Latin cruces, meaning “cross,” so named for the dark X or cross on the frog’s back.

A really cool thing happened that first night. A teenager who lived in the neighborhood where we were scanning the road came out to ask what we were doing. And then he joined us, eager to learn as his family had recently moved here from out of state.

After a Spotted Salamander was saved, he ran home to get his camera and stayed until we finally departed. We had hoped he’d join us the next night at a different location, but wonder if he stayed home to help those on his road instead. Whether or not he did that, we loved his enthusiasm and desire to learn.

It soon became clear on the first night that we’d parked in the wrong spot, however right it may have seemed because we could get our vehicles off the road. As people started to leave, we all did a check underneath from all angles to make sure tires would not run over any critters by accident.

And sure enough . . . out crawled a Spotted Salamander. Of course, photo calls came first, and then help was offered to get to the other side.

Even teeny, tiny Spring Peepers had to be saved. And we all commented that we didn’t want to know if we did happen to drive over something. Added to that, we noted most of the vehicles only made it a few feet down the road, before the driver stopped and another amphibian was saved. That and the driving was rather erratic since everyone had gained a new understanding of how much action there is on a rainy night.

The second night found us in a different location that we actually walked about three quarters of a mile to reach, thus lowering our chances of hitting the critters right near the pool which is located directly beside the road, with a vast wetland on the other side of the street.

Wood Frogs, with their dark masks, typically headed toward the pool, where they’ll spend the next two weeks or so, singing for a mate, embracing her in a technique called amplexus, fertilizing her eggs, and trying again and again, until it’s time to hop out and head into the forest for the next 50 weeks.

Because it was dark, the Wood Frogs didn’t seem to mind our presence too much. Some still sang, or rather “wruck, wrucked” their love songs, and others floated in anticipation or chased each other in hopes of finding a female. We even noted a few egg masses clinging to branches, telling us this pool had been busy for a few days already.

Part of the fun in hosting such an event is sharing it with other people who might not typically head out the door after dark. And then seeing smiles on faces as they encountered the critters for the first time.

A cool find on this night was an Eastern Newt crawling across the road. Perhaps because the pool dries up each summer, this one had overwintered either in the wetland or even the upland before returning on this particular night. It felt like an unusual find on the road, though from what I’ve read, it’s not rare. I have seen many Red Efts, the juveniles of this species, their bodies squished by vehicle tires, on this very road in the fall.

Yet again, it was the Spring Peepers who garnered much of our attention.

And some Spotted Salamanders, though not as many as on the first night.

That said, we were thrilled with each find. And found an easy way to help them was to place the laminated ID card created by Maine Master Naturalist Michael Boardman under their bodies. Now don’t you think this guy is crawling onto the card in search of his ID?

As we prepared to walk back to our vehicles that night, Officer Hammond of the Bridgton Police Department happened along. No, he wasn’t going to arrest us for J-walking, though that’s essentially what we did. He was just stopping by because we’d ask Maggie to let the department know of our whereabouts in case anyone wondered what we were doing, but didn’t slow down to ask us. Traffic was high each of the nights. I’ve been doing this for about 22 years, and this year I felt like we had the most traffic. Most drivers were considerate when they saw the cones (courtesy of Hayes Ace Hardware) and vehicle flashers, plus our headlamps and flashlights. And we were all good at yelling “CAR” each time we saw approaching lights, but there were a few who were annoyed and one even had to lean on the horn after passing through the section of road we walked upon.

Night three was the warmest, with temps in the 50˚s and little to no rain. In fact, by the time we were heading home, the moon and stars were visible.

But still, the critters crossed and once again we showed new participants of all ages how to ID them and then help them cross the road.

On this final night, we had several teenagers along for the journey. Two of them had actually driven past us on the first night, slowed down, rolled down the window, and asked if we were okay. When we showed them a photo of a Spotted Salamander, they went home and signed up for a chance to help. Their enthusiasm was incredible.

We peered into the pool again and were amazed at the number of swelled Wood Frog egg masses in their communal cluster–as is the Wood Frog fashion. perhaps to take advantage of being warmer when crowded together, and thus evolve quicker. It’s the swelling that told us they’d been laid a few days before as initially their egg masses are maybe the size of a golf ball, but swell as they absorb water over the days to come.

The action was constant and I encourage you to see how many frogs you can find in this photo. It’s almost like the Hidden Picture of Highlights magazine, or Where’s Waldo?

And twice we spotted Spotted Salamanders swimming in the pool, though I really wanted to see a “congress” of salamanders conducting their mating dance. One of these nights.

As we walked out on the third night, about ten feet from each other we spotted two sets of Wood Frogs in amplexus! They couldn’t even wait to find a room, or pool, for that matter!

We quickly, if awkwardly, helped them off the road because we heard that familiar “CAR!”

One night, two nights, three nights . . . turned into one incredible and extended BIG NIGHT migration.

Our results: 

April 10, 2024
21 Spotted Salamanders
40 Spring Peepers

April 11, 2024
7 Spotted Salamanders
102 Spring Peepers
75 Wood Frogs
3 Red-backed Salamanders
1 Eastern Newt

April 12, 2024
13 Spotted Salamanders
268 Spring Peepers
62 Wood Frogs
4 Red-backed Salamanders
2 Green Frogs
1 Eastern Newt

For a grand total of 599 critters helped to the other side of the road. We saw a number of squished ones and had to constantly remind ourselves that they will become food for others. 

Thank you to the 39 people who joined us during these three nights--you were incredible and we loved hearing stories of how you want to share this with other members of your family and you are already planning to join us next year.

To go out on a rainy night and help amphibians cross the road is special–for the critters and for us. Thank you to Hadley, Dawn, and Maggie–for being the cool swamp critters that you are! And for letting me be part of the club.

BIG NIGHT 2024–one for the books.

Wondermyway.com on TV

~ lmachayes

For the fourth time in the last few years, Lake Region Television has featured wondermyway.com. Thanks to producer Evan Miller and station manager Chris Richard for working on this project with me. And to Evan for the original music that accompanies it.

Why not pour your favorite beverage, sit in a comfy chair and watch it here.

Click on the white arrow above to watch and listen.

Thank you so much for stopping by! I hope you enjoyed the show.

Season Opener

~ lmachayes

You might think of it as a homecoming; a return to that time of year when all begins again. Slowly. Ever Evolving.

A time when one needs to stand watch and listen. And so My Guy and I did yesterday when we heard this Red-bellied Woodpecker before we finally spotted it. And for the first time I could actually see the red belly for which it is named.

A time when I start visiting vernal pools and can be found with my hands on my knees as I lean forward to peer into the water.

A time to be in shock at spying such large Fairy Shrimp on this date, March 19. There were dozens and they were at least an inch and a half long. I have never seen such big Fairy Shrimp and can’t help but wonder the size of those I hope to see in other pools going forward. In the past they’ve been about a half inch long in April, and might grow close to an inch by May.

A time for catching a dash of a look at a Predaceous Diving Beetle heading for cover to avoid becoming prey in my presence.

A time to notice the minute, such as this wee bright orangey-red water mite that could easily be mistaken for a spider.

A time to return home and walk the path of the now snow-free labyrinth I created a few years ago.

A time to visit the vernal pool on a neighbor’s land and notice that only the edges are ice-free.

A time to peer into the water along those edges and watch a multitude of larval mosquitoes wriggling as is their custom.

A time to poke a Balsam Fir blister with a stick to get some sticky resin on the tip and then place it in a puddle along the path and watch the essential oils form rainbow designs.

A time to look up before heading indoors and realize that the Quaking Aspen flower buds are starting to fluff out much like Pussy Willow buds.

A time to realize that this spring’s season opener officially begins at 11:06 tonight, but the Fairy Shrimp suggest it may have started earlier than normal.

Not necessarily a good thing. Not at all. But . . . if you are looking for me in the next few months, you know where I’ll be. Somewhere near water.

Happy Vernal Equinox 2024.

Happy 9th Birthday, wondermyway!

~ lmachayes ~ 16 Comments

Thank you to all who read and comment and share wondermyway.com. Some of you have followed my blog posts since the beginning, February 21, 2015. A few have joined the journey as recently as yesterday. I’m grateful for the presence of all of you in my life.

To mark this occasion, I thought I’d reflect upon those moments when my wonder gave me a glimpse of the “Thin Places” that I’ve experienced either by myself or in the company of others.

To quote my friend, Ev Lennon, “A Thin Place is a spot of beauty, loveliness, space–an example of the wideness and grandeur of Creation.”

I think of them as places that you don’t plan a trip to visit, but rather . . . stumble upon. 

I had
the track of 
a bobcat to thank, 
for it showed me the way
to a special friend.
It was without expectation 
that we met
and spent at least
an hour together. 
And then I realized
though its sight is not great,
it was aware of my presence
and I hightailed it home,
but I will always 
celebrate time spent
with the Prickly Porcupine. 
Something quite small
scurrying across the snow
captured my attention
and suddenly 
there was a second
and a third
and then hundreds
of Winter Stoneflies.
All headed west from the brook
toward mature tree trunks
to beat their drum-like structures
against the bark
and announce their intentions to canoodle.
Though I could not hear
their percussion instruments,
I am grateful
to learn
with those who
march to the beat of a different drummer. 
Standing beside quiet water,
I was honored 
on more than one occasion
to have my boot and pant legs
considered the right substrate
upon which to transform
from aquatic predator
to teneral land prey
before becoming
a terrestrial flying predator.
It takes hours
for the dragonfly to emerge
and I can't think of a better way
to spend a spring day
than to stand witness
as the mystery unfolds
and I begin to 
develop my dragonfly eyes 
once again. 
It took me a second 
to realize that I was
staring into the eyes
of a moose, 
and another second
to silently alert My Guy
while grabbing my camera. 
She tip-toed off
as we relished our time
spent in her presence
and at the end of the day
had this Final Count
on a Moosed-up Mondate: 
Painted Trillium  59
Red Trillium  3
Cow Moose   1
One was certainly enough!
Some of the best hours
I spend outdoors
include scanning
Great Blue Heron rookeries
to count adults and chicks
and get lost in the
sights and sounds 
of rich and diverse wetlands. 
Fluffy little balls
pop up occasionally
in the nests and the
let their presence be known 
as they squawk 
feverishly for food.
And in the mix of it all
Nature Distraction 
causes a diversion of attention
when one swimming by 
is first mistaken for a Beaver
but reveals its tail
and morphs into a Muskrat. 
I give thanks to the Herons for these moments. 
What began as a "Wruck, Wruck" love affair
continued 
for longer than usual
and due to 
a rainy spring and summer
I was treated to a surprise
in the form of developing frog legs. 
In the midst of my visits
one day I heard
the insistent peeps 
of Yellow-bellied Sapsucker chicks
demanding a meal on wings,
which their parents
repeatedly provided. 
Walking home 
from the pool
another day, 
I was honored 
to spend about ten minutes
with a fawn, 
each of us curious 
about the other
until it occurred to me
that its mother
was probably nearby
waiting for me to move on,
so reluctantly I did,
but first gave thanks
that something is always happening
right outside my backdoor. 
While admiring shrubs
that love wet feet, 
I counted over 
one hundred branches
coated with white fluffy, 
yet waxy ribbons.
Theirs is a communal yet complex life
as the Woolly Alder Aphids
suck sap from Speckled Alders.
Communal in that 
so many clump together
in a great mass.
Complex because
one generation reproduces asexually
and the next sexually, 
thus adding diversity
to the gene pool. 
Along with the discovery 
of coyote scat, 
and Beech Aphid Poop Eater, 
a fungus that consumes 
the frass of the Aphids,
it was an omnivore, herbivore, insectivore kind of day. 
Awakening early, 
a certain glow
in the sky
pulled me from bed
and I raced downstairs
to open the door
and receive the quiet
that snowflakes create.
The snow eventually
turned to rain,
which equally mesmerized me
as I watched 
droplets elongate
and quickly free fall,
landing on bark below
in such a manner
that caused them
to mix with sap salts and acids.
The result was
White Pines foaming
in the form of 
Pine Soap
with its hexagonal shapes: 
worth a natural engineering wonder
and I gave thanks for being present. 
Occasionally, 
it's the action
outside the backdoor window
that keeps me standing sill
for hours on end, 
as a variety of birds fly
in and out
of the feeding station, 
such as these Purple Finches,
the males exhibiting
bad hair days. 
Bird seed is not 
just for birds
as the squirrels prove daily.
And White-tailed Deer 
often make that 
statement at night. 
But this day was different
and they came
in the morning
using their tongues
to vacuum the seeds all up. 
At the end of the day,
my favorite visitors 
were the Bluebirds
for it was such a treat
to see them. 
But it was the mammals 
who made me realize
not every bird has feathers.  
These are samples 
of the Thin Places 
I've stumbled upon
this past year. 

They are a
cause for celebration,
participation,
and possibility. 
My mind slows down
and time seems infinite
as I become enveloped 
in the mystery.

I give thanks
that each moment 
is a gift
and I have witnessed
miracles unfolding
that did not 
seek my attention,
but certainly captured it. 

And I thank you again
for being
one of the many
to wander and wonder my way.

Something’s Always Happening . . .

~ lmachayes

This is a tale that I’m so excited to share and it’s actually a month or two in the making. Each year I write about the saga of the vernal pool in the woods behind our house and how it begins as a “Wruck, wruck” love affair, but by the end of May fizzles into a stinky puddle full of dried up Wood Frog tadpoles and flies and Scarab Beetles mating and laying eggs.

Not so this year. It’s been a wet spring and now a wet summer and that, my friends, is fantastic if you are a Wood Frog or Spotted Salamander. For the first time in my 30+ years of visiting this pool, there is still plenty of water in it.

It is my understanding that if a pool dries out too fast, the frogs and salamanders sense this and some metamorph into their adult upland forms quickly in order that they may hop or crawl out and be representatives of the next generation. I have to believe that is true since despite the pool usually not lasting long, come April 7 or 8 or 9, when the ice “goes out,” the love songs begin and eggs are fertilized and laid.

This year, however, the frogs have been given the opportunity to slow the process down and perhaps that will make them stronger, as well as increase the numbers that leave the pool.

It’s not just the frogs, but the salamander population might also be on the rise.

So here’s the other thing. Walking to and fro the pool offers numerous other distractions of the natural sort, like this rather handsome White Admiral Butterfly.

And a female Ebony Jewelwing Damselfly, the white stigmas or marks on her wings providing a hint of her gender.

But then there was the day that I heard baby peeps as I headed out there and suspected I knew the species to whom they belonged because they’ve nested in our yard before.

Crossing through a gap in the stonewall, I found the tree and Momma Yellow-bellied Sapsucker gave a hint as to the location. At first, however, I couldn’t find the hole where the babes waited for meals on wings to arrive.

Until I did because I passed back through the gap in the stonewall and went to the oak tree located in the far corner of the yard beside our woodlot and there they were: Papa on the right, Momma below, and the hole in between. These were two extremely attentive parents.

Momma would fly in rather silently and surprise me as I stood behind another tree about ten feet away. But the kids always seemed to sense the arrival of a parent and their peeps would rise in a crescendo and I’d look up and there she or he would be.

And then it was a matter of delivering the meal. To the hole the adult would move in its woodpecker manner.

And into the hole its head would duck, presumably delivering an insect of choice either into a beak or two or three or at least into the nest for the kids to fight over.

Right after the delivery was made, the insistent peeping would begin again. “More, more. We want more food,” the chicks seemed to proclaim.

And the parents delivered before flying off to find the next morsel to nourish their young.

Still they did peep and occasionally showed their heads in the process.

By the end of the week that I spent watching, this youngster stuck its head out and made that insistent cry. Its parents disappeared for longer periods of time, which I’ve noted in the past and it makes me wonder if they have to go farther afield to find food, or if they want the kids to understand that instant satisfaction isn’t always the name of the game. Within a day or two and when I wasn’t looking, the chicks fledged and now I hear them learning the art of tapping to mark their territories.

Oh, but wait, this is the tale of a vernal pool. And there too, there were changes like I’ve never seen before in this one. For one thing, the water teemed with activity.

Up for air they’d come and then dodge down again, leaving ripples in their wake.

But . . . do you see what I saw during today’s visit? Legs! My frogs are growing legs. I’m so excited for them. I have to be as, unlike the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker chicks, they don’t have parents watching over them, feeding them, and teaching them froggy ways of living.

The same is true for the Spotted Salamanders who are breathing through those feather gills behind their heads for as long as they are aquatic in nature.

It was on my way home this afternoon when something else moved in the woods not far from my labyrinth and I thought at first it was a bird.

Until it too morphed . . . into a fawn licking its chops. And then I recalled that on the way to the vernal pool, I’d startled a doe in about that same spot and she’d leaped away and in the last few weeks I’ve seen the doe visit a spot in the field over another stonewall and I’ve stood on a kitchen chair with my binoculars trying to see if she might have a fawn. Apparently she did. I am tickled except for the fact that they are eating flower buds in my pollinator gardens.

That face. Those ears. And spots galore. How can I not share the buds with this rather chunky youth?

We spent about ten minutes together, each curious about the other, until it occurred to me that again, like the Sapsucker chicks, its parent was probably nearby and waiting for me to move on.

And so I did.

Still, I can’t stop smiling because something is always happening and it’s right outside my backdoor when I take the time to listen and notice.

Keeping an Eye on the Nursery

~ lmachayes

We are between rain storms and last night’s was a whopper and I’m willing to take the blame because like I wish for snow, so was I wishing for rain. After all, there are vernal pools to tend to and since the mamas and papas have all either hopped or crawled out and headed back to their upland habitat, someone has to watch over the young’uns.

I’ve accepted the responsibility, knowing full well that there will be heartbreak in a month or two, but with the hope that a few days of rain might fill the pools for now to give frog and salamander embryos a chance to grow and emerge and feed and grow some more.

And so as the sun shone in the midst of major flooding, I stood sentry and took note of my various wards.

My peeps include the larval and pupal forms of mosquitoes because they do, after all, play an important part in the food web, especially in the ephemeral pool where my kids need food. And later, my other young’uns who emerge as dragonflies and damselflies will also benefit from dining on such biting insects. Birds, too, will find nourishment with these tiny morsels. And so, when I go pond dipping with others, I always encourage them to return the mosquito-ridden water back to the pool rather than following their instinct to pour them onto the ground and let them dry out and die in an attempt to keep the population down.

With focused attention today, I watched as the bubble-butts also drew attention, for Predacious Diving Beetles, who head to the surface to trap oxygen-filled air between their wings and body, prolonging their time under water. and thus can stay under for long periods of time, were chasing after each other, thus extending their need to stay below for some canoodling efforts.

At last I reached my babes, some of them still forming within their bubble-shaped egg sacs. Wood Frogs will these become. In time.

Older siblings hung out on the leaves that form the pool’s lining, their diminutive tadpole size contrasted by the background of a Northern Red Oak leaf.

As was to be expected, my Spotted Salamander tykes have yet to emerge as they grow stronger within their gelatinous matrix. It always strikes me as being impenetrable, but is it?

Right now, however, the most prolific members of the pool appear to be the half-inch Midges, who swim on the water’s surface, and skitter and fly about on leaves and any other vegetation.

Click on the arrow and watch these crazy little, non-biting flies. One of my favorite posts from last year was Midges I Have Known. And I’ve known a few. In case you are wondering, she still shares a room with us.

As I stood silently guarding my little friends of many, a surprising event occurred. The local Yellow-bellied Sapsucker makes its presence known each time I am out there. But today, today was bath day.

And I had the good fortune to be standing on a rock across the way, hidden by branches that create the blurry effect, serving as a bit of a bird blind, while the woodpecker splashed about.

I could not believe my good fortune to spend time with this male making himself more handsome by the moment.

His splashes, mixed with today’s breeze, created ripples that sometimes distorted my view of Wood Frog egg masses, but at the same time created a work of art I can only imagine my friend Jessie painting.

It is my job to keep an eye on the nursery and it’s a job I am honored to hold.

Honing My Focus

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

On April 10, the ice had started to melt on the little vernal pool behind our house. And I got excited.

Suddenly it was time to start paying attention on a daily basis.

Within a few days, following a long winter of being frozen under the leaf litter, male Wood Frogs arrived at the pool. I heard their “Wruck, wruck” quacks as I approached and recognized that love was in the air. But the moment I stepped to the edge, all went silent and the frogs dove to the bottom. Standing as still as possible, I watched as they slowly began to resurface.

A few days later, it was in the pool. Love that is. The females had arrived, their abdomens swollen with eggs. And tada, the Wood Frogs were in business. A male, and it could be more than one, jockeyed for a chance to grasp a female around her waist in a long embrace and fertilized her eggs externally as she laid them.

A week or so later, and all was quiet again on the vernal pool front, for momma and papa had exited the water and returned to the forest floor in search of food, and the nursery was left to develop on its own in the form of a lumpy mass of eggs with a single embryo elongating within each.

About a week later, Spotted Salamanders crossed the road with a little help from some human friends, and they (the salamanders) also sought out their natal vernal pools in which to breed.

To do this, the salamanders performed a dance in which he stimulated her rather than participate in amplexus like the frogs. Then he deposited little packets of spermatophores consisting of mucus and a sperm capsule, and enticed her to crawl over such. According to Mary Holland’s blog, Naturally Curious, the female “positions her vent, or cloaca, so as to allow the lips of her cloaca to detach the sperm capsule . . . she collects his sperm into her body and internal fertilization takes place.”

If you look closely at the two plugs attached to the leaf, you’ll notice that the one to the right still had a sperm capsule attached.

I always think of them as little bundles of cauliflower.

And another tada, the eggs were laid and began to swell up, surrounded as they were by a gelatinous mass (and this one momentarily lifted into a container at the surface of the water for educational purposes), and the parents returned to the their mole-like life below the leaf litter, to be spotted rarely until next year’s Big Night.

In yet a different wetland locale, I found Painted Turtles basking together on a log. Being ectothermic, or cold-blooded, their body temperature depends upon the environment and in the spring they need the sun’s rays to warm them up to an internal temperature of 63˚ – 73˚.

Because the spot where I saw the turtles was not a vernal pool, but rather a bog, I didn’t spy any Wood Frog or Spotted Salamander egg masses, but there were tadpoles of another type upon which to dine, like this Bullfrog, which takes two years to mature.

And leeches. A plethora of leeches floated past the rock upon which I stood. Not all leeches suck human blood. Many prefer that of amphibians and reptiles.

Visiting several other vernal pools, Predacious Diving Beetles soon made themselves known in several forms, from this, the larva, aka Water Tiger, with its strong mandibles, ready to grasp prey at any second . . .

to an adult.

The body of a Predacious Diving Beetle is oval with oar-shaped hind legs that feature fringed hairs to increase stroke power. So here’s a thing I learned last week and now try to pay attention to: when swimming, Predacious Diving Beetles kick both hind legs simultaneously, whereas Water Scavenger Beetles, which look similar, kick their hind legs alternately.

Oh, and do you see the Mosquitoes wriggling behind the beetle?

Speaking of behind, look at the beetle’s behind–it’s an air bubble. They trap oxygen-filled air between their wings and body, prolonging their time under water. and thus can stay under for long periods of time, returning to the surface when it runs out.

So back to the Mosquitoes. Meet the third stage in their life cycle (egg, larva, pupa) known as a tumbler. Tumblers lack mouth parts because they don’t eat while undergoing the magical transformation into an adult. Spying this means that very soon biting female Black Flies and Mosquitoes will be part of the landscape. They’ll annoy us, but we need to remember that they are food for others, like tadpoles and birds and dragonflies.

As for the biting insects, I’ll try to practice mind over matter because I can’t resist the opportunity to learn more and be present as I hone my focus above and below the water’s surface.

Be Present in the Moment

~ lmachayes ~ 8 Comments

Wandering,

as I so love to do,

found me beside a brook

in the late afternoon

as spring prepares

to give way to summer.

A burst of sudden movement

caught me by surprise,

enhanced especially

because something skittered

across the water

toward me

in a manner

unlike its shy parents.

We spent a few moments together,

the young Wood Duck and me,

as I whispered hello,

and it answered with a squeaky whistle,

before skittering

back across the water’s surface

toward the safety

of the opposite shore.

Because I was standing so still,

another who favors

this riparian habitat

flew in

and I was offered

a few pleasurable moments

to enjoy the beauty

of a male Yellow Warbler.

Finally finding motivation

to continue my journey,

I was stopped in my tracks

when by my feet

I discovered

a patch of sundews

growing in a place

I’ve visited many times

but before this moment

never spotted

them hiding quietly

below ferns

where they could carry out

their stealth carnivorous activities

in an inconspicuous manner.

Back on the path

embellished with the

flowering structures

of Maple-leaf Viburnum,

the fervent behavior

of Long-horned Flower Beetles

drew my attention

as two canoodled

in the midst

of so many others

conducting a pollinator dance.

A brief bushwhack

found me staring into

the remains of

an ephemeral vernal pool

that only a week ago

teemed with

thousands of tadpoles,

but now in

its puddle-size

bubbled with those

who hoped for

a quick metamorphoses,

or at least,

that was my hope

for them.

Beside the brook again,

my heart quickened

once more

as I suddenly realized

I was staring into

the richest of porcelain blue eyes.

That I could recall

we’ve met only

once before,

but in this very same spot,

which will forever

be known as

the Lilypad Clubtail Dragonfly

meeting spot.

Upon a different shrub

a few feet away,

another flew in

and asked to be recognized

by the color

of its face

and markings upon

its abdomen,

but it was

the glossy wings

that made me realize

I was greeting

a not-long emerged

Belted Whiteface Skimmer Dragonfly.

Finally making my return

along the same path,

a sight that had

eluded me earlier

now asked to be acknowledged

and I couldn’t help

but think

how much a

Beaked Hazelnut

resembles the body

of a dragonfly.

As my wander

drew to a close

and evening set in,

I was honored

one last time

with the first view

this year

of a tiny skimmer

with big personality

as expressed

by its colors and patterns

including the red hearts

along the abdomen

of this, a male Calico Pennant.

To say I went forth

without expectation

would be wrong

for I fully expected

to spy some cranes

or a beaver at work,

and certainly the resident moose

who keeps tempting me

with its tracks,

but to encounter

the unexpected

reminds me to be

grateful and present

in each moment.

On this occasion I was.

Celebrating My Daily Wonders

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Every day this week found me wandering a different trail, or even sometimes the same trail on multiple days.

To that end, on May 24th, I celebrated a full-fledged dragonfly emergence.

Though I wasn’t there at the time of eclosure, many of the dragonflies I spotted, and there were hundreds, were either still pumping hemolymph from their wings back into their bodies, gaining their color patterns, or letting their shiny wings dry in the breeze as they slowly began to expand them. A few had wings that seemed stuck together, but then in an unexpected moment they flew and I whispered farewell in hopes that we might meet again.

On May 25th, there were other species to behold.

It was that day that I knew the Highbush Blueberry crop will be significant this year for so many were the robust Bumble Bees that worked the pollen route. I even managed to capture one doing a happy dance with pollen on its feet. And this is canoodling season, after all, so it was fun to find a pair of flower bugs enjoying a tender moment upon Chokeberry flowers. The Mayfly did not have such a happy ending for before maturing to its adult form, it landed in a sticky web, but . . . alas, the spider must eat, so it was a good day after all.

On May 26th, my travels were more varied, as were the sightings.

For a few moments, I watched as ants, both winged and not, farmed aphids upon the stem of a Maple-leaf Viburnum. Along a trail or two that day, a melodious Song Sparrow serenaded me with its happy tune. And a quick trip to the vernal pool out back found me looking into the eyes of hundreds, maybe thousands, of Wood Frog tadpoles. But the best find of all, a fairy ring along a trail.

On May 27th, I was one of a bunch who arrived at a certain locale to bird at 6:30am.

Though I couldn’t stay for the entire trip, which yielded 38 species, I did have the joy of watching a small flock of Cedar Waxwings land and fly, land and fly. And then there was the Indigo Bunting. It’s blue coloration reminded me of Clintonia’s Blue Bead fruits we’ll spot in the summer if the birds don’t eat them all first. And I’m never sure why I’m surprised to find a House Wren on these journeys, but perhaps its because for so many years I didn’t see them (or didn’t realize I was seeing them) and thought of them more as a childhood bird from my beginnings in southern New England. The best find of all, on this day, however, was an Eastern Phoebe sitting on her nest.

On May 28th, I met some old friends, though for the first three I had to jog my memory for their names.

The first was a female Common Whitetail Skimmer dragonfly. It’s her guy who has the whitish “tail,” and I believe that she received the better strokes of nature’s paintbrush. Then there were the Hudsonian Whiteface Skimmers, she with yellow marks and his defined in red. Soon, the Calico Pennants will emerge, and we’ll see she also dons a yellow coat while he sports red. But as much as you know I love dragonflies, a fresh moose track also makes my heart sing.

On May 29th, I wondered how I could possibly top all of that.

And yet I did. First there were more ants farming aphids, this time Wooly Alder Aphids on Speckled Alders. After that, a Bluet Damselfly that didn’t seem to mind that I rustled around in some shrubs trying to get better photos of other species. For its patience, I thought I should honor it in this post. One of those other species, a small Dot-tailed Whiteface Skimmer dragonfly, drew my attention to a Pitcher Plant Flower preparing to open. I was surprised by its presence because though I knew I was in the land where Pitcher Plants are abundant, I couldn’t recall spying one in this particular spot before. But the best find of the day, an Assassin Bug, Pselliopus cinctus, finishing a meal. I had never met this species of Assassin Bug before as usually it is the slender green Zelus luridus that I encounter. The black and white legs were to be admired, by me, not its poor victim who had just had the juices sucked out of it.

It certainly has been a week to celebrate my daily wonders as I wander. And though the Assassin Bug was the best of today, the actual best I did not capture a photo of this afternoon. A River Otter popped up and stared at me briefly, chirped, and before I could reach for the camera, disappeared. But I will remember that moment and that spot in my mind’s eye.