Wildflowers

Above and Below: a few wonders from skyline

~ lmachayes ~ 3 Comments

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

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

And then it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not very.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are veils to admire.

As well as a tent . . .

made of “curtains” that seem almost transparent.

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

The answer: Rocky Road.

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

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

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

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

And so we posed.

We posed again at Dark Hollow Falls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Blooming Surprise

~ lmachayes

Two days ago we awoke to a temperature of 27˚ and the ground was covered with frost. And the Juncos flew into the yard. And so it seemed that autumn was turning a new page.

But . . . the day before the frost, as I walked along a local trail, something tiny captured my attention and as I bent down, I realized that despite the fact that the leaves of this Low-bush Blueberry had shut down their food production process and let the anthocyanin that had been stored in the leaves finally show through since chlorophyll was no longer a key factor, the plant was flowering.

There were somewhere between a dozen and two flowers in bloom on this one plant. After seeing that, I checked others, but didn’t spot any more flowers.

Of course, I did what I always do when such an event occurs, and immediately sent the photos to my nephew who lives in southwestern New Hampshire. The past few years we’ve exchanged such photos when the out-of-the-ordinary occurs and last year it seems like we found a bunch of species in bloom at the wrong time. This was the first for both of us this year, and as he commented, probably because it’s been so dry. But still, it’s also been hot and the flowers seem to get confused–more than they used to, at least in our memories. How about for you?

And so today I stopped by St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Bridgton, Maine, because I love the land that surrounds the building and wondered what it might have to offer. I actually stopped by twice–first in the late morning, and then again in the middle of the afternoon.

Seeing Hawkweed both in bloom and preparing to send seeds forth for future blooms wasn’t a surprise at all, for this flower is prolific and hardy.

A few Goldenrods had also not yet achieved their gray-head status and instead served as beacons of light for any who were searching.

And the few Bumbleebees I saw gave thanks that there was still some food available.

But then I spotted it . . . A single Bluet, aka Mayflower, one of our early bloomers that blossoms in May, showing off its perky little face between two grave markers in the church’s burial site.

I gave thanks for the Bluet, because it was located between two dear friends who died within months of each other, after a marriage of 71 years! To spend a few minutes wondering about the Bluet with them today was a blessing.

And no matter where I walked, be it the church lawn, woods, or parking lot, it seemed there were Autumn Meadowhawk Skimmer dragonflies, this being the male. If I moved, they moved a slight bit, but then landed nearby every time.

The females were also flying and landing everywhere I went. And I truly expected to find a pair canoodling, but they seemed more interested in landing near me than chasing each other for a date.

While female Autumn Meadowhawks are typically pale brown, as they mature, their abdomens may turn red like that of their male counterpart.

Of course, they all need to watch out for this guy. Or maybe he needs to watch out for them. The Spined Assassin Bug was on the move–the hunter or the hunted I don’t know, but it was just a fun find. And beside the church parking lot of all places. But then again, churches welcome all, especially those who are not perfect. Thank goodness!

As I continued to explore, I spotted one of my favorite fall finds dancing through the air rather like a little fairy, though some think of it as a snowflake, and just yesterday someone described these insects as bits of ash. All make sense to me.

I captured this one so I could take a closer look at those iridescent wings and the waxy fluff on the abdomen.

And then I released it onto a fern frond.

I invite you to notice the hint of blue as well.

This is the teeny, tiny Asian Woolly Hackberry Aphid, one who is searching for a sap source.

And then I came upon another surprise that I had forgotten. It was hiding below some leaves at about breast height.

A few of us first spotted this nest back in June when we accidentally approached it because we couldn’t see it hiding as it was below leaves, but Momma Red-eyed Vireo suddenly flew off. We apologized to her, took a quick photo of her eggs and promised her we would leave her be so she could raise her young in this place that we hoped provided safety. I never checked on her again.

But looking at the nest today, it appeared that she had a successful breeding season.

Looking at some Northern Red Oak leaves, like those that hid the nest, I was reminded of stained glass. Ours is a church that doesn’t have stained glass windows, but rather allows the outside world in. The ever-changing qualities of the natural world as seen through the windows serve as the scenes for us all to ponder each season.

And ours is a church with a group of people who wander out the door each week with others always welcome to join us as we wonder about all that surrounds us. We call ourselves Trail Snails, because slow is the manner of our movement.

And we have a mascot that was gifted to us by a couple from First Congregational in Bridgton, for they occasionally have joined our group to wander and wonder. T.S., short for Trail Snails, loves to pose along the way.

It’s also a church that knows the power of prayer and the ribbons tied onto the arbor actually represent specific prayers of parishioners and people we’ve only met for the first time.

And there’s a beautiful Memorial Garden where all the flowers have now gone to sleep, but their leaves and seedheads offer different colors and textures in this season and anyone is welcome to sit in this space.

This all brings me around to my opening thoughts, for as I rounded the corner of the church building this morning, a shocking pink color on a bush mostly gone to fruit beckoned a closer look.

I wasn’t the only one peering in, for a Spotted Cucumber Beetle was making the rounds on the anthers within one of the flowerheads.

Blueberries, and Bluets, and even a Rose–a blooming surprise was each on this the eleventh day of October. Plus all the other wonder-filled finds.

Bogging in Maine

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

What is a wetland? Basically, it is wet land! But more specifically, wetlands are often those transition zones between dry land and deep water.

There are four basic types of wetlands, which can be broken into even more types, but let’s stick with the four: marsh, swamp, bog, and fen.

Marshes are typically located along shores of rivers and streams, and even the coastline. Plus they can be found in the shallow water of ponds and lakes. Cattails, Arrowhead and other soft-stemmed emergent plants grow in these areas.

Swamps are found along rivers, streams, and lakes where mainly woody-stemmed plants such as shrubs and trees, like this Tamarack, grow.

Pitcher Plants and Sphagnum Moss
Round-leaved Sundews

Bogs are found in our northern climate and often are deep depressions that have no drainage. They are covered with a surface carpet of sphagnum moss and insect-eating plants like the Pitcher Plant and Sundews.

Cranberry flowers and fruits

Native Cranberries also flourish in the stagnant and acidic water of a bog.

Sphagnum Moss
Leatherleaf

Like bogs, Fens are found in northern climes, but the water is slow-moving, and does have some drainage. Layers of peat (sphagnum moss) and sedges and grasses and low shrubs like Leatherleaf may grow in these areas. The carnivorous plants like them as well.

But it’s not just the flora that makes a wetland so special. These places provide habitat for a wide range of insects and animals and birds as well. In fact, they act as nurseries, or places where any of the critters might raise young.

And as soon as the sun warms the air in the spring, friends and I scour the wetlands in hopes of discovering who is emerging on any particular day. One of my favorites to watch is dragonfly emergence (in case you are new to this blog and didn’t already know that. You can learn more here: Developing Dragonfly Eyes, but really, type “dragonfly” into the search button of this blog and a bunch of dragonfly related posts will pop up–all worth a read, I promise you.)

And like other insects, once emerged and a few days old, canoodling commences and dragonflies such as these Belted Whiteface Skimmers find each other and a presumably private place to mate. Private, that is, until I show up!

Eggs are laid in a variety of ways and places depending upon the species and this is a female Eastern Pondhawk taking a break upon a lily pad.

And here is a Forktail Damselfly laying eggs upon vegetation.

Frogs are also a highlight of a wetland, whether they are hiding in the shade on a hot summer day like this Bullfrog …

Or pausing briefly in the sun, such as this Pickerel Frog chose to do. Actually, it wasn’t so much basking as trying to remain hidden from my sight by not moving until I passed.

Those who do love to bask, (frogs do this as well) are the Painted Turtles, and the more surface area that is exposed to the sun’s beams, the better. Sometimes I’m surprised when I do capture a photo such as this one, for they are quick to sense my presence or hear me coming, and quickly slip into the water. But if you wait a few minutes, sometimes they’ll reemerge.

And there are Northern Watersnakes always on the prowl, using their tongues to make sense of their surroundings.

Mammals also use wetlands for forage for food and build homes and one of my favorites is the American Beaver, who knows the value of a wetland, and can create one in a short time by building a dam. Beavers build dams to created a deeper pond through which to navigate, for they are better at swimming than walking. They may alter the wetland to suit their needs for a few years, but then move on and let the dam breach and then a new type of wetland emerges and more critters move in and take advantage of what it has to offer.

That all said, it wasn’t until I spent more time with the animal pictured above that I realized it was actually a Muskrat–look at that thick, rounded tail, unlike the flat paddle of a Beaver’s.

And birds! Oh my. Mergansers . . .

And momma Wood Duck and her offspring . . .

and Papa Woodduck . . .

And Great Blue Herons always on the prowl for fish or amphibians know the value of the wetland as a food pantry.

So, this spring and summer and fall, I’ve been following My Guy and our friend, Bruce, beside and into and sometimes, thanks to Bruce’s drone, over a variety of wetlands.

Bruce is an early riser (understatement), and occasionally I’ll meet him at a predetermined location as we did this past weekend–before the sun has risen. Though the thought of staying in dreamland for another hour or so is enticing, I never regret the decision because we get to view the world before it officially wakes up.

And with his drone we explore these areas we cannot easily access. This is one My Guy and I walked all the way around a few weeks ago without ever spying, though we knew it was there. But Bruce and I bushwhacked through a forest of White Pine Saplings and mature trees and reached the edge before he launched his bird and we were offered a glimpse of this most beautiful wetland with pockets of water connected by meandering rivulets.

The stream turned to forest for the trees told more of the story, as they closed in and I recalled that it wasn’t far from that spot that My Guy and I walked through a damp area where Royal Ferns grew and we found one teeny tiny mushroom fruiting on a hot summer day.

The mushroom was the little Orange Peel Fungus, and its name seemed so obvious. And the soil moist despite the severe drought.

Another day we began our exploration in the afternoon beside a small pond.

And the Droney-bird picked up on the wetland to the south.

But that day what struck us as being more important was that it also took a clear picture of a sandbar in the water.

And as Bruce navigated it closer to the watery surface, we could see clear to the bottom. Mind you, it’s not a deep lake, but this is the water of Maine. Clean and clear.

And we celebrate wetlands for the critical role they play in maintaining the health of the environment.

When I think about their ability to store and filter water and act as a natural sponge, absorbing and retaining large amounts of water during the heavy rainfalls of spring, and removing pollutants before they enter streams, and rivers, and lakes, it all seems so obvious that they should do this when you have a bird’s eye view.

So here’s the curious thing about this wetland. It is located beside a local dump. And the more I think about that, the more I question those who created the dump, but give thanks for the unwavering workhorse that this wetland is in the ecosystem.

It was on the rise above this particular wetland, in a very sandy spot covered with Reindeer Lichen, that Bruce and I made a discovery. Well, he discovered it first and asked for an opinion. I’m full of those and so I met him and we took a look.

The discovery was a plant new to us both. Sand Jointweed or Polygonum articulatum. As you can see, the flowers are astonishing in their pink and white display.

It was the stems that I found equally fascinating. At the base of the flower stalks there are sheathing bracts, giving it a jointed or segmented appearance. We didn’t see any leaves, but perhaps we need to look again. I think we were just amazed to have discovered a plant neither of us recalled meeting before. Often though, that means we’ll meet it again soon.

The small snippet followed me home, and today I looked at the flowers under the microscope and I was astonished to realize that they look rather like a map of a wetland.

I don’t jump at the invite every time it arrives for an early morning mission to explore a wetland, and one day really regretted it because when My Guy and I finally got to the location, we found a note with Bruce’s observations. We scanned the area with our eyes for about an hour before deciding that we were too late.

But . . . we promised ourselves that we’d pack a picnic supper and try again.

First we spotted one Bull Moose.

And then a second, and had a difficult time deciding that we should head home.

Did you know that 25% of Maine’s land area is wetlands? That’s four times the wetland area of the other New England states combined. The natural buffers they provide sustain the deep clear water we appreciate, and take for granted.

The margins or places where the land and water come together are bridges between two worlds. As many as 90% of all living things in our waters are found in these wetlands, no matter what form they take. I guess that’s why I love exploring them so often, because there’s always something to see. And another lesson to learn.

I leave you with this, a watercolor Bruce’s wife Eileen sent me recently. It was inspired by one of our local wetlands.

Some may see wetlands as dark and shadowy areas, mosquito hatcheries, with an abundance of leeches mixed into the scene, but the rest of us know their true value and I give thanks for living in this place where it’s so easy to go Bogging in Maine. And to share it with others. Thank you MG, BB, and EJB!

On the Cusp of Autumn

~ lmachayes

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

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

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

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

Other adventures found us paddling our favorite pond.

And bushwhacking around another bog.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No matter what–Happy Autumnal Equinox!

The Phymata Genus: Geniuses

~ lmachayes ~ 3 Comments 
You lurk in the midst 
Of Goldenrod flowers
Seeking the right moment
To earn your given name.
Mixing the color palate
With greenish-yellow, 
White and brown hues,
You are well camouflaged.
Small, yet bulbous eyes
Watch with intensity
Waiting for prey
To approach. 
Raptorial claws on muscular legs
Grab, and then impale
The victim’s body
With your short beak.
Meal size
Is of no importance
As you’ll take
Anything you can reach.
Once immobilized,
You inject paralyzing saliva
That liquifies its innards
Into nutrients you sip.
Sometimes you attack
When you are 
In premarital status,
Which can last forever.
Being the smaller, darker male
You remain on the female’s back,
Guarding in hopes to claim her
When the time is right.
Your antennae twitch
As you tap forelegs, 
And finally convince her
To join you in a canoodle dance.
Stealthy are you
With camouflage capabilities 
And predatory prowess
That aids a healthy ecosystem.
Your swift hunting technique
Targets a variety 
On insects both beneficial
And those that are pests. 
As I hunt for you
I realize you are not alone
For others use the same flowers
To hide amongst and wait.
But today, let’s celebrate
You in the Phymata genus,
The Jagged Ambush Bugs, 
Geniuses that I think you are.

Zodiac Three: A Perfect Picture

~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

The message arrived again for a boat trip, but this time the meet-up time was 5:30am, rather than 6. So I set my alarm for 4:00 in order to have an hour of quiet time to greet the day in darkness as I read and meditated and reflected and sipped coffee.

It was still dark when I arrived at the Captain’s home and hopped into his truck, with the boat in the back.

About ten minutes later we were in Hiram, Maine, at a boat launch along the Saco River. It’s been his dream for three years to make this journey and I love that I get invited along for the adventure.

I would have written about Zodiac Two, when we cruised along (with a small electric motor) the Old Course of the Saco in Brownfield Bog, but my photos were all out of focus and so since then he has given me a photography lesson and many tips.

The sun was just brightening the sky as we headed upriver, a smart plan in case the motor’s battery ran out of juice and then we could paddle and float back to the launch site.

I’ve been on the Saco a bunch of times in a variety of boats, but neither of us had ever explored this section below the Brownfield Bridge and I was struck by how calm and clean it was. The water is also quite low–thanks to the drought that we’ve been experiencing again this summer so we had to be aware of sandbars and stumps and logs and rocks. Well, actually, any time you are on the river, you have to be aware of obstacles.

As we started the journey a dragonfly landed on my leg, and she proceeded to try to lay eggs. Have you ever felt the tip of a dragonfly’s abdomen try to pierce your skin? It’s a bit of a prickle. While she was doing that, I tried to snap a photo, but neither she nor I were successful. Still, I counted her as a good omen.

Sometimes, as we gently cruised along, we each took photos of the same scene, so some of these are his used with permission, and others are mine.

The reflection of the shoreline was one that struck both our fancies. We didn’t talk about it, but it was the layers that intrigued me and reminded me of the force of the water in this mighty river that originates in Saco Lake at the top of Crawford Notch in New Hampshire and winds its ways with a million oxbows to North Conway, NH, and then into Fryeburg, Maine, and across the state before it flows into the Atlantic Ocean in Saco.

Sometimes we realized we were looking at Silver Maple floodplains and other times there were steep cliffs. Always, we knew if there was a house or camping trailer near the edge, because they seemed to be located on high ground, but all the trees were cut between their high ground and the river to provide a view, and the result was intense erosion. One person even had several tarps draped over the ground in what we figured was an attempt to stave off the erosion. We think leaving the trees and trimming branches would have been a better choice, but no one asked us.

Another sign of erosion, the visible roots of many, many trees, also created works of art and my brain is already painting this scene in the future . . . maybe.

And then there was this work of art–a Silver Maple Lollipop, its leaves already shutting down chlorophyl production perhaps as a result of the dry spell we’ve been experiencing.

Slowly the sun rose and the water captured the sky in whirls and swirls and rainbows of its own making.

We’d both headed into this boat ride expecting to see birds, which we did, but we really expected Great Blue Herons and Bald Eagles. The drama artists. Our best sighting of the day was this Spotted Sandpiper, who walked along the river’s edge and then flew ahead and landed and did the same thing all over again. Over and over again.

Once the sun was fully up, our day turned into a bright one, and we had a nice breeze to accompany us. Plus tons of dragonflies and a few damsels, all of whom did not wish to let the paparazzi photograph them. Still, we gave thanks for we could see bugs in the air, but nothing attacked us, unlike during our Zodiac One and Two trips.

At what became our turn-around point, we got out of the boat and waded through the water to a beach, where Captain B set up his drone.

Above us, the waning moon stood out in the Bluebird Blue section of the sky.

The drone allowed us to see the lay of the land, and despite the fact that I’ve seen it recently from Mount Cutler while hiking with My Guy and a friend, I was once again reminded just how beautiful this area is and how small we are.

Do you see that beach in the river’s bend? We were standing there.

You might be able to see the Zodiac now.

And the two of us near the boat. Plus the indentations of a million duck and goose footprints. A flock of something skittered and flew off as we approached this spot, but they were too quick for us to identify.

The drone also gathered this shot of the layers of silt in the water. Or maybe we weren’t really on the Saco, and had instead taken a trip to Mars? Oh, but wait, there is a reflection of trees that very much spoke to our being in Maine.

On the way back, we spotted Cardinal flowers that we somehow missed on the first leg of the journey. They decorated a few sections of the shoreline and maybe stood out more because the sun was shining so brilliantly on them.

For Captain B, it was a new flower to add to his list. For me, it was a sign that it is August and we were by water because they do like wet feet.

We also spotted one tiny Painted Turtle that didn’t seem at all bothered by our presence. I’d really wanted to see a turtle, so was thrilled with this finding. But surprised that we only saw one.

According to my GPS, our trip was four miles in each direction, but then I realized that the APP cut some corners, so maybe it was 4.5 miles one way. Plus I forgot to start it until after we’d left the beach.

The length wasn’t really important. It mattered more to have the opportunity to discover this wild and scenic and quiet section of the river (and not have to paddle!).

As for the perfect picture, this is one that Captain B snapped and I can’t believe he actually captured the fawn. We were both surprised, even though we’d expected to see deer, when a Doe and her spotted youngster stood by the water’s edge as they nibbled on grasses, but they saw us and quickly dashed into the woods, their white tails on high alert.

The sight of the two of them, however, is what I’ll cherish in my mind’s eye because that’s really where perfect pictures are stored.

Zodiac Three: The Perfect Picture. Thank you again and again, Captain B, for creating the opportunity. And I can’t believe you did get this last photo after all.

Walking My Thoughts Among Life and Death

~ lmachayes

People present me with cool gifts and yesterday was no different. First, I received an email from a friend asking if I could ID a bug she’d found on the ground following a quick but harsh storm on Wednesday night. And after I did so, she asked if I’d like it for my collection.

Like it? I’d LOVE it. Look as those beefy legs. All meat on the femur and tibia, which give this insect a rather mean look. That and it’s size. From head to tip of abdomen it measures 1 1/4 inches, and it has a wing span of 1 7/8ths. Not one you really want to meet in a vacant alley.

Before I was gifted this creature, I asked if it had a whitish spot on at the top of the abdomen and was correctly informed that it did not.

Except: upon closer inspection after I picked it up from Kappy yesterday, I discovered that it did indeed have such, only where the spot had been was now a hole. And it appeared that the guts had been sucked out of it.

That got me to thinking about the weather this past week and the Bumble Bees I went in search of during some rain on Thursday. All were taking a mid-day siesta as they clung to flowers and water droplets formed on their bodies.

Some had been better at locating a spot under the foliage, but by the matted hair on the thorax, it didn’t seem to make a difference. Wet is wet.

And one I thought was rather silly because it could have easily climbed into the Hosta flowers to sleep, but instead chose the outside upon which to wait out the storm. It really wasn’t much of a storm on Thursday, but rather a pleasant summer rain that we needed.

Then on Friday I found this sight, an Ambush Bug using its raptorial legs to hold its prey, a Bumble Bee.

At less than a half inch in size, Ambush Bugs sit silently on or under flowers, waiting for the right moment to do as their name implies and ambush an insect with their hooked forelegs, then inject a venom to immobilize the victim. They also inject a liquifying fluid that turns the prey’s insides into a buggy milkshake, the summer drink that they slurp through a straw-like beak.

Knowing they can take down prey many times their own size, I began to wonder about my bees and the Mighty North American Elm Sawfly (the larvae of which, I’ve just learned feed on foliage of willow, birch, maple, cottonwood, aspen and other poplars, and of course, elm trees).

I wondered if the rain on Wednesday night and again on Thursday, helped the Ambush Bugs because they had wet and lethargic insects clinging to flowers or leaves and just waiting to be victimized–in a buggy sort of way.

I’ll probably never know, but today, I headed out to the field, which I’ve decided is actually a meadow, and I think I’ve said that before, to see if I could find more Ambush Bugs.

My neighbor, Karen, who owns the field, saw me and followed a cutover path her husband created (mowed) and we met in the middle to chat for a few minutes. And then, as we were about to go our own ways, we saw a species the two of us have been seeking for several weeks now. The best part is that we saw the Black and Yellow Garden Spider at the same time.

As it turns out, when I checked my blog posts for last year, we spotted the first of this species on August 3rd. Well, I did anyway. I think Karen was a few days ahead of me, but once I had cataract surgery, the whole world opened up and gave me a Field of Vision I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Today’s female was working on spinning a meal into a package, and it was difficult to tell what she’d caught. But that didn’t matter to us. We were just so happy to have spotted her . . . together.

Later in the day I was back in the field, and again had a first sighting for this year–a Tachnid Fly, its dark oval eyes and bristly oversized body a giveaway. Tachnid Flies are considered beneficial because they dine on lots of other insects including sawflies (hmmm), borers, and green stink bugs, plus tent caterpillars, cabbage loopers, and spongy moth larvae.

Suddenly an interesting looking insect flew in . . . only it wasn’t one insect but two, and moving rather rapidly across the flower tops.

As they moved on, my eyes caught the action of a Pearl Crescent Butterfly, its forewing tattered and I thought of part of the conversation Karen and I had had earlier. She wondered where all the dragonflies have gone.

There are still a few Calicos and Spangles, and I suspect we’ll see more in the future, especially as the Meadowhawks continue to emerge, but our neighborhood was rich this year with birds nesting and many of the dragonflies became food for the young and I suspect this butterfly had a narrow escape at becoming such a meal. Bugs feed birds and that’s a good thing.

And then the Gold-marked Thread-waisted Wasps paused nearby and showed off their true canoodle form before moving on again.

At last my search paid off today, and I began to spot one Ambush Bug after another, laying in wait.

I just had to remind myself to look for insects hanging below flowers rather than buzzing about in true and frantic pollinator mode, such as this Yellowjacket. The Ambush Bug is by the left side of its face, but blends in incredibly well with the Goldenrod.

As it turned out, there were also spiders enjoying feasts much bigger than themselves.

And then another Black and Yellow and then this, the third, with a packaged meal suspended in the web above.

I couldn’t be sure of what species had been captured, but by its markings suspected it could be Locust Borer. What I loved even more than the doggy-bag meal, was the yellow Goldenrod pollen trapped on the spider web.

And then, as I circled back, I found myself looking at the butt end of a small butterfly I met for the first time in this very place last year.

This is a White M Hairstreak Butterfly. Do you see the upside-down M marking just below the orange on its hindwing? This is a RARE sighting! Well, I actually first spotted this species on August 3 of last year and contacted Ron Butler, one of the author’s of Butterflies of Maine and the Canadian Maritime Provinces, along with Phillip G. deMaynadier, John Klymko, W. Herbert Wilson, Jr, and John V. Calhoun. At that time, it was the furthest inland record, according to Ron. And here, one year later, we meet again. Well, not the same butterfly, but its offspring and I’m thrilled to realize that this is now part of its habitat.

What a day. What a week. I don’t have all the answers about life and death, but do love that I can take my thoughts for a walk in my neighbors’ field and try to gain a better understanding. Yes, bugs feed birds; and bugs feed other bugs; and the circle of life goes on and I’m always thrilled to watch so much of it play out and open my eyes and mind to the possibilities.

Student Teacher in the Field and Yard Classroom

~ lmachayes

I am so thankful that I was born with a desire to learn and somehow landed in at a most pleasant neighborhood school. Of course, the classrooms vary depending upon the season. These past two days, and actually these past few weeks, I’ve been majoring in field and yard lessons.

Oh, don’t get me wrong–that doesn’t mean field and yard work, though I did help mow the lawn today.

Let’s begin, however, with the class in the field, which is really more of a meadow given how wet it can be and some of the species who call it home attest to that, including this Marsh Fern.

At first glimpse, I thought it was a Lady Fern, but there was something different about the leaflets–they seemed to present as three-dimensional.

When I turned the blade over, I saw why. On fertile leaflets, such as these, the subleaflets curl around the kidney-shaped indusia which cover the sori, or spore cases.

There are lots of other ferns out there including Interrupted and Sensitive, but Marsh is one I don’t often see, so to have it on display in the school hallway is exciting to me.

Meadowsweet, or Spirea, is another plant that doesn’t mind wet feet, also indicating that this class leans toward being a wet meadow.

And today, I met a new-to-me insect species with a funny name.

Tumbling Ragdoll, aka Mordella marginata, is a Tumbling Flower Beetle. I love the name, and am reminded that as a child I loved my Raggedy Andy doll made by an “aunt” who wasn’t actually related to our family; my sister received Raggedy Ann. Years later, my sister also later created Andy and Ann for me, so I have a complete set, plus one from “Aunt” Betsy.

Anyway, from Tom Murray’s Insects of New England & New York, I discover that these beetles are so named because “When threatened their escape method is to jump and tumble about wildly.”

For science lab, I will attempt a mere scare in the future to see if that is true; but today approached with care so as not to disturb them.

When I got up from my chair to sharpen my pencil, I spotted what my friend Amanda calls a B-52 Bomber Bumblebee. It was large and fast. But that didn’t disturb the Banded Longhorn Beetles at the top of the Meadowsweet.

They were mid-canoodle, and nothing was going to pause their intense interest in each other.

Upon another Meadowsweet, it was as if the whole community had shown up to pollinate the flowers, and miraculously, they all got along. At least while I watched. I love that the teacher had lined up this subtle lesson–about putting aside differences to work for the common good.

She reiterated it more than once.

Over by the window, there was another new-to-me species to meet. By their tiny, yet robust bodies, and long snouts that seemed to grow right out of their heads, I knew they were Weevils. If I got the answer correct on the homework, these are Rugged Flower Weevils, aka Odontocorynus salebrosus.

Ragged. Rugged. Interesting choices for today.

In the midst of it all, some old friends stopped by to visit, including a slew of male and female Calico Pennant Skimmer Dragonflies and this sole female Common Whitetail Skimmer.

I asked the teacher what is so common about this dragonfly that instead seems quite exotic with black splotches on the wings and a two-toned abdomen. I also inquired about the name Whitetail. She said she’d get back to me. Later, in the classroom next door, I saw a single male Common Whitetail, and its abdomen is much whiter (a light blue actually), so I know why that part of the name, but the female certainly wasn’t taken into account when naming occurred several hundred years ago.

And much to my surprise and delight, a male Spangled Skimmer stalked the halls, another indicator in my mind, that this is more of a meadow than a field.

Look at those white stigmas on the wings. It’s the only Skimmer I know of with such markings, thus making it easy to ID on the spot.

After recess, I crossed back over the wall to the classroom in the yard. Judolia cordifera is one of the Flower Longhorn Beetles, and those long horns were so obvious.

But that face. If I have nightmares tonight, I hope my mom will understand why. And my teacher won’t mind when I take a nap during class tomorrow.

Sweat Bees were also busy pollinating, especially the composite flowers, but its the Crab Spider who presented today’s challenge as the teacher wondered if I saw it. Camouflaged as it was, its duty is to mimic the daisy petals. For the moment the Sweat Bee survived, but the spider often wins in the end.

During lunch, this Gray Catbird landed about ten feet from the table where I sat with my classmates. As a person who dabbles in art, and loved Painting 101 with Miss Jessie, the many shades of gray stood out to me. But I was reminded that a Catbird is more than just a gray bird. First, there’s the small black cap, dark tail, and the rufous-rusty patch under the tail. Sometimes its hard to see the patch, but from my spot at the cafeteria table, I had a spot-on view.

And just before class let out, our school mascot flew in. Or rather, the child of our school mascot. Being so young, it was only an arm’s length away from me, but being the mascot, it seemed not to mind my presence.

Then again, maybe it did for the immature Red-breasted Nuthatch looke around, perhaps for back-up. I know it has several siblings, but the others weren’t feeling so brave as to stand so close to me.

At the end of the day, before the last bell rang, I realized that I was the student teacher–always learning something new and finding joy in sharing those learnings.

Today’s lessons were brought to you from the Field and Yard Classrooms. Stay tuned for more lessons.

Vermonting We Did Go

~ lmachayes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were Unadorned Bog Flies pollinating Bog Labrador Tea.

And Cotton Sedge showing off their hairy tufts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where The Moccasins Led Us

~ lmachayes

Rituals. We follow them. Some more than others.

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

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

beside the Atlantic Ocean,

up mountain trails,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so they deserved to be counted.

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

How about now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Albany Mountain: 2024: 364; 2025: 411

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

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

Plus these trails all from this year only:

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

Mount Tire’m: 31

Proctor Pond Reserve: 41

Kezar River Forest: 63

Narrow Gauge (only 1.5 mile section): 56

Sleigh Trail at Notch View Farm: 44

Home woods: 2

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

Even with the extra trails, the count was down.

But still . . .

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

Giving Thanks to the Ovenbirds

~ lmachayes

On my way down the cowpath to retrieve our game camera, I heard among other bird songs, the “Teacha, Teacha, Teacha” of the Ovenbirds. But it wasn’t until I was headed back home a little while later that I actually spied them, which for me is a rare treat–maybe because I don’t spend enough time trying.

In the past, however, it’s always seemed like the minute I get anywhere near them, they stop singing and I can’t find them.

Today, that was different. And I did get to watch. BUT . . . there’s always a BUT in my posts, or so it seems. Anyway, but . . . then I spotted something else.

A beautiful pink Lady’s Slipper. And the leaves of four others–that I hope in future years will bloom.

With fingers frozen because it was raining and the temp was only in the 40˚s on this May day, I headed back to the house, pleased with my finds.

All the while, however, I kept wondering if there are other orchids on our land and so after lunch I donned my rain gear again and headed back into the woods.

First, I stumbled upon this fern, which grows in a vase-shaped form. There’s plenty of it along our stonewalls and at the edge of the field beyond, but while hiking with My Guy yesterday, I pointed some out and called it Interrupted and he wondered why such a name.

Because, I explained, ferns have sterile fronds for photosynthesis and fertile fronds for reproduction and in this case its fertile fronds have interruptions of spore cases in the middle of the blade upon which they grow, while most ferns carry their spores on separate stems or on the undersides of leaflets.

After the spore clusters ripen and drop away, the mid-section of the frond will be “interrupted,” leaving bare space between the leaflets, further reminding us of its name.

And where there is Interrupted Fern, there is often another member of its family, the Osmundas that is, this being a Cinnamon Fern. One of the differences is that the fertile frond is more like a wand that rises from the center.

There are no leaflets on these fertile fronds, and again, the sporangia are like tiny beads that will turn a warm cinnamon brown when the spores mature. And then, it really will look as if the frond is covered in cinnamon.

While the Interrupted will grow in forests and wetlands, the Cinnamon prefer wetlands, which tells you something about our land. Another that also grows here, though I forgot to photograph it, is their second cousin, the Royal Fern.

If an Interrupted Fern doesn’t have fertile fronds, it looks very much like a Cinnamon, but one of the key characteristics to tell them apart is that Cinnamons have hairy (wooly) armpits like this one above where you can see the wool on the underside where the leaflet meets the rachis or main stem. And Interrupteds don’t.

Being a bit of a wetland, I shouldn’t have been surprised by my next find, but I was. Jill-in-the-Pulpit! You may think it’s Jack, but like some other plants, including the Canada Mayflower that grows beside these, in order to flower the plant needs the additional energy stores of a second leaf (with three leaflets).

Once I spotted one, I began to notice they were everywhere in one spot on and near the cowpath, but the curious thing–the leaves had been devoured on some. By whom?

And do the leaves also contain Calcium oxalate, which this plant like some others stores in the roots and can cause blisters and other medical problems if consumed? Is that only in humans? So many questions.

That said, my quest now was to seek not only any other Lady’s Slippers, but also Jack-or-Jill in the Pulpits. All told on the latter, I did spot about twenty, but didn’t take time to differentiate how many of each gender.

At last, I reached the powerline that crosses our property and it was there that some feathers decorating a pine sapling surprised me.

A closer look and I found a slew of feathers, all plucked. By one of our predatory birds–we do have Sharp-shinned and Broad-winged Hawks in the neighborhood. Or by another?

We also have a neighborhood Red Fox who passes through our yard and over the stonewall or up the cowpath on a regular basis. Plus Coyotes and Bobcats.

Mr. Fox needs to eat too. And in this case, he marked his territory–right at the end of the ten-second clip.

The question remains–who made a meal of the Turkey?

Again, I do not know, but as I searched for evidence or more remains, look what I found–another Lady’s Slipper hiding among some Low-bush Blueberries.

And so back to my original quest did I return.

And smack dab beside that orchid, another plant that I love, but didn’t realize we hosted–Indian Cucumber Root, with a root that is edible and delicious. And a flower or in this case, flowers, that will delight my soul in a week or less. And yes, this too, is a plant that needs an extra layer of leaves in order to produce a flower. So do we call this a female plant and all plants that only have one level or tier of leaves males?

I don’t know. But I had circled around, zigzagging actually, through the five acres of woods that we own beside our one-acre house lot, and landed back at the first Lady’s Slipper, delightfully decorated with the rain of the day.

Across the way, right where I’d first spotted him, an Ovenbird paused and called. I tried to capture both in a shot, but they are scurry-ers, if that’s a word for scurry they both did as if they were in a hurry and perhaps a wee bit confused. Maybe they were trying to distract me from finding their nest?

I didn’t look for it, but have an idea at least of its whereabouts. And I can only hope that any offspring they produce are well protected cause this is a wild place.

With fingers once again numb, I finally headed home, but first I stopped to check on these Jack-in-the-Pulpits that were the only ones I thought we had, growing as they do by a split-granite bench we made. I remember seeing Jack standing tall in the pulpit one spring as I headed out to the vernal pool, and upon my return someone had nibbled him. Whodunnit?

That said, I decided to place the game camera by all the other Jacks and Jills that I’d found earlier today and I’m curious to see if anymore get nibbled.

All of this because the Ovenbird called. It felt like Thanksgiving. Complete with a Turkey dinner. (Sorry, but I had to say that.)

And to think I thought I knew our land. There’s always something to learn. Or some things!

Shout-out to the Universe

~ lmachayes

After he finished Yoga, and we both purchased veggies, eggs, flowers, jam, and goodies at our favorite farm market, aka Fly Away Farm, and picked up sandwiches at The Stow Corner Store, it was time to pull into a parking spot and head off on a journey, knowing full well that it would probably begin raining before we returned. That said, we left our rain gear in the truck. Wouldn’t you?

Our trail of choice this morning was actually a dirt road. One with a million names, but possibly most easily identified as Forest Road 9.

Because the gate is still locked, we had a two-mile walk ahead of us before we reached our lunch spot, but actually, that is my preferred way to travel this route. As I reminded My Guy, when we walk another road during the winter to a location very close by, we get to see bear hair on telephone poles. There were no poles along today’s road, but there could be other things worth noting.

Like Sessile-leaved Bellwort, aka Wild Oat, showing off its drooping bell-like flower that almost blend into the roadside scenery and if you don’t know to look, you might miss it.

And Coltsfoot! What looks like a Dandelion, but isn’t a Dandelion? I LOVE this flower because like all spring ephemerals, it is so fleeting.

In the Aster family, the flowers can be distinguished from Dandelions by the presence of obvious disk florets and ray florets. The stems are unique in that they are covered in tiny bract-like, scaly leaves, and the actual leaves for which the plant received its common name, don’t grow out until after it has flowered.

At last we reached our destination, after, of course, My Guy showed me where the snowmobile trail turns to the left and comes close to a trail around Shell Pond that we’ve viewed while circling that body of water.

Today’s water body: Deer Hill Bog. One of my favorite places to go, especially when the gate is closed and there is no traffic.

But, I’ve been thinking about that descriptor: Favorite. It’s rather like this one: Common. So many species are named Common This and Common That. And I find nothing common about them at all. I guess it’s true for favorite places. On any given day, no matter where I am, it is my favorite. Unless it isn’t, of course, but that doesn’t happen very often. Thankfully.

Beside the water, we heard a loud BUZZ, and there was a huge Bumblebee nectaring among the tiny bell-like flowers of Leatherleaf and I’d forgotten that they should be in bloom already.

All along the road, and then right in front of the wildlife blind, was another fav that I can’t resist photographing: Hobblebush. I’ve yet to find one with the tiny fertile flowers open, to that means more photos to come.

While munching on my sandwich, I saw fast movement on the water surface as it appeared the critter was running. When I zoomed in with my camera lens, I realized it was a Fishing Spider, who has a hairy, water-repellent body that help it move across the water.

It was while looking down, that I heard a high-pitched whistle I recognized, but was surprised to look up and watch an Osprey land on a snag right in front of us. My, what intent looking eyes, most useful for detecting objects under the water, with fish being its main food source.

That said, the Osprey is a raptor, and I suddenly spied a Canada Goose on a nest atop an old Beaver lodge, and thought about the breeder’s camouflage and how well its wings blended in with the nesting materials making it not quite so noticeable from the air.

Really, though, I think I was the perceived threat since the Goose held its head low and pointed at me as it guarded what I assumed were eggs below its body. Thankfully, it didn’t hiss at me, and when I realized the situation, I moved on.

All the while though, I kept an eye on the Osprey who had flown across the bog and perched–looking in the opposite direction of the Goose. I didn’t want to find out if Goose eggs were on the menu along with a fish. Though it would have been great to have observed it catch a fish.

Mergansers were also out and about on the pond and these two vocalized, which drew my attention to their location upon a log where I fully expected to see Painted Turtles basking. But today wasn’t that day–basking day.

Instead, as had been predicted, it began to rain and we had two miles to walk out and unlike the ducks, could not oil our feathers and let the water roll off.

That said, it wasn’t a raw day and we really didn’t mind. I know I rather like rainy days. Besides, we both had extra clothes waiting for us in the truck.

As we walked out, I mentioned that I was surprised we hadn’t seen any Red Trilliums in bloom.

I kid you not, a minute later I spotted a Painted Trillium, the first of the season for me.

My Guy wasn’t surprised, but wanted to know if I could make a Moose appear.

No, but about a mile later . . . a Red Trillium. We had missed both of these flowers on the way in, which is another reason why though loop trails are wonderful, I don’t mind retracing my steps because there’s always something different to see.

As for the Moose, no sightings today, but . . . I still want to give a Shout-out to the Universe for what we did spot both at the bog and along the road.

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.

Breaking Bread and Acorns

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Up, up, and away, we were this past long weekend, My Guy and I, and New York City was our landing spot. It’s good to get out of our own space occasionally and enter the greater world where we don’t know the place as well.

But, in doing so, we also like to return to spaces we do know a wee bit–there’s comfort in walking into a cathedral such as this where pathways lead wanderers away from city sounds and vistas and into the natural world.

And we discovered new pathways where the sights and sounds of the city co-mingled with nature, albeit upon a raised bed that replaced a now defunct highline rail system.

No matter where we went, there were moments for reflection . . .

of the season passing.

In a way, it was like reliving fall foliage all over again and made me yearn to follow it down the East coast, though that was only a passing yearn for this “four-season worshiper.”

Gardens still proclaimed autumnal colors from the flowering heads of hearty plants growing beside Hudson River, where the north wind did blow.

And a few plants, more protected by buildings on either side of the path, showed off their sunshiny faces, though the petals appeared to make a ragged effort. Still . . . they blossomed.

We had the great fortune to join our hostess for a Victorian Christmas Tour. In reflection, it was not at all what we expected. Somehow, our minds’ eyes had conjured up a vision of entering stately Victorian homes and admiring their Christmas decorations.

This was not that tour at all. This was even better for the tour guide, Rick, was a storyteller who transformed us back in time to help us understand our Christmas traditions long rooted in the past, including Washington Irving’s influence as he told tales of New York’s founding and a Dutch ship wreck and Saint Nicholas riding over the city in a wagon and encouraging the Dutch to settle the land.

As we walked through three neighborhoods with Rick, we learned that O’Henry coined The Gift of the Magi in Pete’s Tavern.

And more about the poor and boisterous Irish who raised havoc on porches such as this at #4 Grammercy Park West belonging to NY Mayor James Harper (founder of Harper and Brothers which we now know as Harper Collins).

While the house next door is a replica of #4, the gaslit lampposts in front of Mayor Harper’s residence were meant to warn the partymakers to not disturb his rest. Or were they actually to help him find his way home? Perhaps both.

One of our stops was outside Lillie’s Victorian Restaurant where Rick shared the story of stockings being filled and the ball ornaments serving as representations of the gold that might have gone into them. And I was immediately transformed into my own story of the Christmas traditions as I’ve recorded in The Secret Giver of Gifts.

For a second, I stepped inside, and would have loved more time to experience this space named for Lillie Langtry, a British actress and late 19th Century Socialite, but we needed to move on.

And so we did, our family, some of our hostess’s family, and their friends, finishing up on a street that was once part of the Moore Estate in Chelsea and Rick recited “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” breaking it down to give us the history behind each stanza and we all gave great thanks for his insights and knowledge.

I hope I haven’t ruined this tour for you and that you will think about signing up for there was so much more. Just be prepared. It lasted about three hours.

Christmas decorations abound throughout the city, including this display at Pier 57. I loved how the fiber and ornaments were so subtly represented and suspect there’s a story behind this artistic installation that I’ve yet to learn.

Nature also showed off its Christmas decor in the form of holly, Ilex cornuta or Chinese Holly, an introduced species. Um, I think we are all an introduced species.

And we spotted Christmas Ferns. Well, I spotted them and tried to explain to My Guy and our youngest that the leaflets are shaped like a Christmas stocking or even Santa in his sleigh, but they weren’t seeing that. I’m not sure they were really looking either.

But I was, and near the Christmas Ferns grew Maidenhair Ferns, like a star radiating off the wiry stem.

We also had the good fortune to meet another movie star, this one at the Museum of Moving Images. It would not have been my first choice of museums, but when your host works for an editing house, you embrace the choice and once we got going, it turned out to be a real treat as we could see behind the scenes of some old favorites including The Muppets.

Being in the city, sometimes we were like the House Sparrows, which didn’t know which way to go, despite what the sign indicated.

Other times it was easy to choose the right path.

And in doing so, we got to meet a small one who is probably low on most New Yorkers’ list of preferences, but which I was thrilled to see honored with a statue.

My Guy dubbed this Pigeon Square. Do you see why?

Thanks to our hostess, or I should say hostesses, we were guests in a small Prescott Park apartment with a view of the Empire State Building, which was lit first to honor Thanksgiving.

And then two nights later for Small Business Saturday, which we appreciated since we own a small business. Well, as I always say, My Guy owns it. I’m just married to it.

The iconic tower soon became our Mount Washington or Pleasant Mountain, for no matter where we were, if we spotted it, we had a sense of our place in this great city.

And I’m here to report that the lights on the Empire State Building eventually go off for the night. The same was true for many of the other skyline buildings.

Before I bring this post to an end, I want to share with you a few of our fellow travelers as we posed beside the Hudson.

These two–our NYC host and one of the hostesses, for whom we are most grateful. He being our youngest.

Our oldest and his gal who made the trip south as well and were able to stay for a couple of days.

And our main hostess posing with us. We give her great thanks for sharing her home and her apartment with us so that we might spend so much time with our family. And treating us to an incredible meal, as well as the Victorian Christmas tour.

We went down to break bread with this crowd on Thanksgiving. And there was lots of bread to break! And good humor shared.

I also loved that I was able to break bread at St. John’s Episcopal Church in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn on the first Sunday of Advent.

And before saying goodbye we broke bread one more time with this young man. We don’t know how he does it, living and working in NYC, oh, and driving. YIKES! But he does it all and he does it well.

Along the way of this five day journey, we discovered we weren’t the only ones breaking bread, though in this case the squirrel’s form of sustenance was acorns, which were plentiful.

Breaking Bread and Acorns in New York City. Not our every day cup of tea, but one which we relish when the opportunity arises.

Snow–Bugs and Flakes

~ lmachayes

Betwixt. Between. Be flowers. Be bugs. Be glad for there is so much to wonder about in the natural world. And I don’t even know the half of it. But I wouldn’t be happy if I wasn’t always learning.

It was 28˚ when I awoke this morning. Late this afternoon on this brilliant sunlight day, with temps at least 30˚ warmer, I walked out through our woodlot to the right and then looked back across the neighbor’s field toward our house, taking in the sea of seedheads and I was sure my insect hunting days had come to an end.

But much to my surprise, and really, I shouldn’t have been surprised, the chirps of crickets and grasshoppers, like this Red-legged example, filled the air. I might not have seen the grasshoppers if they hadn’t flown to a new spot occasionally, for so camouflaged are they in the current setting. Or always.

And then, much to my delight, I noticed a Saffron-winged Meadowhawk flying low and making frequent stops, allowing me to do the same. We live in a wet area, but still, I’m often surprised by some of species I meet here.

From the field, I decided to continue along the power line that crosses our property and the neighbor’s and many more beyond that and as I’d told my friend Meg from North Carolina the other day–Mount Washington, our mighty New England Rock Pile, is at the far end and it looks like we could walk right to it. Give or take a few days–or drive there in about an hour.

It’s along the path below the lines that I discovered Cotton-grass, which is a sedge, with its fluffy little heads speaking to the bogginess of this area.

Cottongrasses self-pollinate, their flowers being “perfect,” given that each contains both male (stamen) and female (carpel) parts. And the seeds are attached to parachutes waiting for a breeze (or animal) to move them to a new home.

Spotting the curly, cottony-hairs reminded me of the belly hairs of porcupines, which of course, reminded me of the Porky some friends and I spotted in another field in town yesterday. The time is coming when these critters, whom I’ve come to adore, will transition from life in the field to life in forest trees.

Last November I wrote about this particular porcupine, Bandit, whom I met in our yard, along the same route I began today’s journey. Perhaps soon, we will meet again.

Getting back to today’s story, I left the power line, and headed out an old logging trail that I tend to frequent most often in the winter. But it was sunny, and I was enjoying that warmth, and wondered what else I might spy along the way.

For starters, there were the “dried” Pearly Everlasting Flowers, which I should have gathered because they do dry so well. Instead, I just admired them.

And I had frequent encounters with more Saffron-winged Meadowhawks, flying much like White Corporal Skimmers in early spring–always landing and then moving a couple of feet ahead of me whenever I made a move.

Helping with ID of this species, are the fine black lines in the sutures of the abdomen. And the red stigma toward the tip of each wing is outlined in black. Otherwise, I might confuse it for an Autumn Meadowhawk.

I also had the pleasure of meeting a female Shadow Darner, but then I went to offer a finger for her, thinking she might want to take advantage of my body heat, and instead she tried to bite me. So, I let her be and we went our own ways.

At a former log landing, Juncos were on watch, and given how much seed is available, I know they’re mighty happy with the current conditions. It seems like they just arrived in the past week or so, but the good news is that many will overwinter here.

Oh and a few will fly to Connecticut so that my dear friend, Kate, can watch them as well.

Being an old logging road and log landing, conditions were apparently ideal this past summer, and I paused for a moment to admire forest succession, with grasses and herbs forming the floor, and more grasses and sedges growing taller, topped by Gray Birch, and a backdrop of Red Maples, and Big-tooth Aspen, and Paper Birch.

And then it was back to the now dry bed of a stream crossing where Speckled Alder shrubs are closing in on the trail, and Woolly Alder Aphids are living their best life seeking sap from the woody plants.

That Cotton Candy or even Cotton-grass look is actually a waxy material they produce from their abdomens, and when they group together like this, perhaps its meant to detract visitors. Or protect them from the weather. Had a I visited on a summer day, I’m sure I would have spotted ants trying to tickle them (it’s called farming) to take advantage of the honey dew the aphids secrete.

Speckled Alder Aphids live an interesting life style. Actually, according to Donald W. Stokes in his book, A Guide to Observing Insect Lives, “There are two life cycles in this species. In one, the aphids remain on alder trees throughout their lives. They are believed to overwinter as adults in the leaf litter at the base of an alder. In spring, they crawl up the plant and feed on its sap. There are several generations per year and adults of the last generation overwinter.

In the other life cycle, the aphids alternate between two plants. The aphids overwinter as eggs placed on maple twigs. In the spring they hatch into females, which feed on the undersides of maples leaves and reproduce. They are wingless, but in midsummer produce winged offspring, also females, which fly to alders. These females feed and reproduce on alders, and give birth to wingless young. Then in the late fall, they produce winged young, which fly back to maples and give birth to both male and female young. The males and females mate, and each fertilized female lays a single egg on a maple twig. Only the eggs overwinter.”

It’s things like this that add to my sense of wonder. Two life cycles? The adults of one life cycle overwinter while the eggs of the other are do the same? That’s amazing.

And on the fly in a bit of abundance right now for I saw a bunch today and I’ve been seeing them along many trails that I hike, are the flying aphids. If you stick your hand out and cup it, you can get one to land.

Don’t worry, they don’t bite. And they don’t even tickle, despite that waxy hair.

They’re actually kinda beautiful in their own way and as they fly they look like tiny flakes of snow, thus some refer to them as Snow Bugs.

So I have two forever-friends-since-birth and I’ve already referred to Kate earlier in this blog because she is a great lover of Juncos, along with everything else in the natural world, and so is her sister, Patty, who once told this joke when we were kids:

Q: What’s white and goes up?

A. A dumb snowflake.

One of these two is eleven months younger than me and the other is eleven months older and she and I just chatted yesterday and I’m so thankful to have them in my life all these years. Yes, B.S., I am also incredibly thankful to have you in my life.

But once again I digress. Except I had to tell that joke. Because it kinda reminds me of the aphids in flight.

Back to the power line, I decided to pull the Mighty Mount Washington in with the telephoto lens. Yes, dear readers, that is snow! Several inches of the white stuff has fallen over the last few days. And there is rime ice.

My favorite season is only a walk down the power line away.

Snow: Bugs and Flakes. It’s all wonder-filled.

The Long Farewell

~ lmachayes ~ 5 Comments

Saying goodbye is so hard to do, yet at some point we all must. These last few days I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around how best to do that and not feel melancholy.

But then again, maybe the future isn’t all that far off. Wait a minute. Blueberries in flower? Yes! Sadly so. Over the past week or so friends, relatives, and I have noticed various species flowering due to warmer than normal autumn temperatures. These of the low-bush variety are along the path that my neighbor mowed through the field where I’ve spent many a glorious hour observing.

It’s in the same field where I delight in spotting bowl and doily spider webs and this one, a funnel web with the funnel weaver sitting inside waiting for a meal to arrive.

Orb weavers have also been mighty abundant this year and at first I assumed this was Ye Olde Black and Yellow Garden Spider that I love to watch at work–usually wrapping its prey as this one was doing.

Before I say more, take a look at the silk coming out of its spinnerets. I like this explanation by Naturalist R.J. Adams about spider silk: “Within each spider’s abdomen are a variety of silk glands which can vary in number depending on the species. Some of the oldest lineages, including relatives of California’s tarantulas and trapdoor spiders, have only a single type of silk gland, while some orb weavers can have up to eight different kinds. Each gland produces a protein-rich liquid which connects to numerous minute spigots at the tip of the spider’s spinnerets. When silk is needed, tiny valves behind each spigot control its release, and as the fluid is compressed through the spigot’s openings, tension orients the molecules into a solid, thread-like structure.”

Liquid. Spigots. Thread. What an amazing invention!

As I watched the spider move away from its packaged meal, walking so confidently on those guide lines, I realized its coloration was a wee bit different than that of the Black and Yellow Garden Spider.

Not only was the design/coloration different, but also the fact that there was no Zig-zaggy stabilimentum, an ultraviolet runway of multiple threads which perhaps provides stability or attracts prey or tells others to stay away, a trademark of the Black and Yellow.

That’s because this was a Banded Orb Weaver with a different pattern. And now I can’t wait to look for these again next year.

Until a couple of days ago, I was still seeing Black and Yellows, but not as frequently as I had all summer long. It seemed like this gal had stocked her pantry, perhaps knowing her days were coming to an end.

The good news is this sac, soft on the inside and parchment-like on the outside, was created by a Black and Yellow, and within her eggs will survive the winter months. Where there is one sac, I suspect there are dozens more.

Do you see them? The egg sacs I mean? No, I don’t either. Camouflage is the name of the game as the goldenrods and asters go to seed.

Despite or because most of the flowers have gone to seed, those that still thrive are the subject of heavy pollination activity. Frenzied in fact. From Honey Bees to . . .

an American Lady, to . . .

Female Pearl Crescents (gender ID based on orange color of antennal clubs versus dark colors for males) and their counterparts who all greet me each day, to . . .

Yellow-collared Scape Moths, to . . .

Locust Borers, to . . .

long-bodied Sweetfern Underwing Moths, to . . .

Paper Wasps, to . . .

Bumblebees, this one special because it showed me that its proboscis is orangey-reddish, to . . .

Flower Flies with big eyes.

The plants literally tremble with all the activity so it’s easy to figure out where the insects are located.

The best part of greeting so many is that occasionally a tiny new visitor enters the scene and I have to watch for a few minutes to get a good read on who it might be as it flits and flutters and finally lands.

It wasn’t the diminutive size that made my heart skip a few beats, but rather the color when the Eastern Tailed-Blue Butterfly opened its wings–a mixture of blue and pink that made me think of skyblue-pink we often see at sunset.

And then another sighting stopped me in my boots. It’s camo is incredible and it could simply be another goldenrod leaf.

But rather, it is a Katydid, only the second I’ve spotted this year. Katydids always make me happy because they remind me of my forever-since-birth friend and at about the same time that I spotted this insect she just happened to comment on a photo I’d taken during a hike this past week–of a mountain stream–because it reminded her of our “fishing” adventures as children, sticks being our poles and leaves our fish. Katydid. Of course she did.

But of all my finds, my heart was the stillest for this magnificent creature, also a gossamer-winged butterfly. I noted it first on August 3, 2024, and again on August 26. But to see one on October 4, 2024 . . .

Incredible. And RARE! I contacted Dr. Ron Butler once again as he’s one of the co-authors of Butterflies of Maine and the Canadian Maritime Provinces.

Different Bat Time, but same Bat Place for this sighting.

Ron’s reply, “Lucky you. I’ve only seen them in more southern states. I’ll add this to the database.”

Lucky me indeed. According to the book, White M Hairstreaks have only been spotted in our region four times (prior to the three I’ve now noted) and they were seen from late July to late August. So, um, that can now be updated to early October.

BUT . . . what does that mean? Ron has only seen them in more southern states. Blueberries are flowering in October. My nephew shared a photo with me this past week of a Lilac blooming in New Hampshire.

Climate change.

All that said, saying goodbye to all that the field has offered this summer and early fall is not easy. I’m going to miss the spiders and butterflies I had the honor of greeting each day. Oh, I know there’s so much more to come as the days grow shorter and temperatures drop and my favorite season arrives. I live where I do because of the change of seasons.

Still, it’s a long farewell as we transition from one season to the next and for that I’m grateful.

Porcupine, Snakes, and Bears, Oh My!

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Disclaimer: there may be some not so pleasant photos in this post. I apologize. BUT, what you will see is a fact of life.

Do I have your attention now?

Our afternoon began so innocently as we hiked along a well-traveled trail at Hawk Mountain in Waterford, Maine, where Goldenrods and Asters shown the way.

I knew I was in the right place the moment I saw a Black and Yellow Spider for I have spent the last two months enjoying their presence in our neighbors’ field and though they are beginning to decline in number as summer heads toward fall, a few are still on the hunt and packaging meals such as you see here.

Also like home, the presence of butterflies. Granted, we were only twenty minutes from home, so spotting Monarchs nectaring wasn’t a surprise. It was a delight, really.

And an American Painted Lady, her two eyespots on the hind wing as opposed to four smaller spots on the same wing of a Painted Lady, pasued on some bramble branches.

A Red Admiral also decorated the scene, even if it did appear to have a bit of attitude given its stance.

And then . . . and then I saw the body of a dead porcupine. It didn’t smell. But the Common Green Bottle Flies (in the Blow Fly family) that made their fly buzzing sounds around it indicated it had been dead for a bit. Some of you know that I love a such a wildlife mystery–and the opportunity to try to figure out what happened. BUT, the story doesn’t always piece together as neatly as I’d like.

First, there appeared to be three wounds on the animal’s back. Large openings. As if from a very hungry predator. And a brave one? Fishers are the porcupine’s main predator and they are known to attack the others face and belly, where the hair is soft as compared to the 30,000 barbed quills on its back. And a fisher and others would then visit the carcass repeatedly to dine. That hadn’t happened in this case. Instead, the animal died on its stomach. And other mammals didn’t take a repast from the offering. Did a domestic dog do the duty? If so, it must have had a head full of quills.

As for those metallic green flies, their maggots squirmed inside each large wound. By the hundreds. Maybe thousands. I wasn’t about to count. In his book, Insects of New England and New York, Tom Murray explains, “Blow flies are often associated with decaying organic matter, particularly carcasses and other sources of rotting meat and feces. In fact, they can figure prominently in forensic entomology, aiding in determining time of death.”

Murray adds, “This might sound like the dark ages, but cultures of sterile maggots of green bottle flies are sometimes used in hospitals to clean up deep wounds and infections that otherwise are difficult to treat. They only eat dead tissue, and secrete an antibiotic, preventing further infection. In nature, the normal food source is carrion.”

Maggots. A source of wonder! Who knew? Well, obviously doctors and scientists and Tom Murray!

There was one other thing to look at on the carcass, besides those three-toned quills and the soft curly hairs in the mix. The sole. Look how pebbly it is! The better for climbing trees, my friend. Think of non-slip socks with those little white treads. Porcupines don’t need to wear socks. Maybe they were the inspiration for such. Ahh, this site just got even better!

I still don’t know who the predator was but it took me back to what my neighbor and I discovered in her field yesterday. Two piles of feathers from the same bird.

The feathers appeared to have been plucked so I suspect a raptor did the deed, after all, they need to eat too. But what species died? We don’t know birds well enough to say. What was curious to us was that there was no blood. Nor any body parts. My neighbor’s dogs were onto a scent in the feathers, however, and we suspect that they had a better sense of either who the prey was or who needed a meal than we did.

Returning to today’s trail, I spotted Witch Hazel in bloom, the first of the season for me to spy. This flower always makes me happy with it’s yellow ribbons haphazardly displayed.

And then I sawa Maple Leaf Viburnum, its leaves already their magenta color and so many berries still intact.

And a Green Frog in a mucky puddle as we approached the summit.

The view is always amazing, enhanced by the brook and wetland below and our beloved Pleasant Mountain in the distance. You can even see the ski area at the right or northern end.

While we were out there I only captured a photo of one Turkey Vulture, but at least three road today’s thermals, gliding round and round.

And on the way down a small Garter Snake tried to hide from us. It was about the size of a pencil. And reminded me of another site in the field at home that I spotted this morning.

My first thought. Scat. Of course. Until I took a closer look. A spine?

And then I flipped it over and spotted scales. Probably a much larger Garter Snake. If I took a closer look at the scale pattern I could be certain of this ID. Maybe tomorrow. If I can locate it again.

From Hawk Mountain we made a mad dash to Mount Tire’m and again at the summit, a view toward Pleasant, just from a somewhat different angle.

We were in a bit of a rush, but My Guy didn’t mind that I wanted to explore the erratic boulders in the woods behind the summit. I think everyone who climbs that mountain ends up at this spot. Rock Castle? Bat Cave? Bear Den?

We decided on the latter given that we spied a bear through the trees.

And so, I did what I always do here and channeled my inner bear.

Now really, this wasn’t such a gruesome post after all, right? But wow. Porcupine with maggots, snakes, and a human bear. Oh my!

Taking Stock . . . Naturally

~ lmachayes

As locals know, My Guy owns a hardware store and I often say I am married to the store. It’s true because it is a constant in our lives and follows us on walks and hikes even on his days off. And though our oldest son has taken over the reins in the past two years, My Guy still cannot completely let go.

I’ve come to realize, however, that that is okay because it means I can tend my own shop. Of course, while he owns the land and the building, I need to rent space, but it’s well worth the priceless price.

Step through the open-air doorway, and you’ll find right now I’ve got proboscis-style straws on display. They are especially beneficial when sipping from Red Clover, a member of the legume family.

And for safe storage, the Peck’s Skipper likes to show how to curl the straw up when not in use.

If you are an introvert, like me and the Common Ringlet Butterfly, you might prefer to flit from flower to flower, but then hide in the vegetation after spending so much time demonstrating for the public how to use your straw.

Common Wood-Nymphs are equally inclined to hide, but still available on the shelf for you to choose, and you can decide if this stored straw appeals to you, or not.

White Admirals are especially plentiful right now, and want you to know that whether hanging upside down,

or right side up, their straws always work, so it might be a good one to think about purchasing.

Especially if you like to get some of your nutrients from scat. We can throw in some scat for you, if you’d like–at no extra charge!

Sometimes it’s the packaging that makes all the difference, so we’ve got several orange choices for you to consider, this being the Fritillary style. Make me an offer I can’t resist, and this straw is yours due to the fact that it has been used previously, as evidenced by the tattered wing.

If you prefer something a bit bigger and brighter, there’s the Viceroy, with that dark band crossing its wings.

Or the biggest of all, the Monarch, who lacks the black band that is part of the Viceroy packaging.

For the tykes in your life, we also have Pearl Crescents and Northern Crescents in stock. The former is slightly smaller than the latter for the youngest in your gang.

Those are all great, but I have two that I much prefer, the first being this Clouded Sulpher that comes in pastel colors only, which contrast with the darker-colored straw.

And the creme de la creme has to be the White M Hairstreak, a rare species that I was able to special source a few weeks ago, and every once in a blue moon (such as this August is), I can find another to offer you. That is the case right now, but hurry because I don’t know how long this butterfly will remain on the shelf.

Over in the natural pesticide control aisle, I’ve a few options for you to consider, such as this handsome male Twelve-spotted Skimmer. Unfortunately, I just discovered these are on backorder, so you’ll probably need to wait until June if this is the style you prefer.

The same is true of the Eastern Pondhawk–in fact, I was totally surprised that I was able to snag this species, but suspect it has something to do with the store’s location between two ponds, and so close to a wetland and swamp.

Right now, the most abundant pesticides I can offer are in the form of Meadowhawk dragonflies like this Autumn Meadowhawk, a small skimmer with tan colored legs.

If you prefer something larger . . .

you might like the darners that keep flying off the shelf. That said, there are plenty more where this guy came from, so if you can’t find one in the shop, give me a shout, and I’ll check the backroom.

Summer is not over yet, despite what everyone has been saying lately, and so if it’s pollinators you are looking for, I’m afraid I overstocked. Well, there’s nothing to be afraid of, actually. Being overstocked on these is a great thing. And you can mix and match if you’d like, perhaps choosing these European Paper Wasps,

a few Honey Bees,

and some Locust Borers, all lovers of Goldenrod as you can see. I’ve also got Great Black Wasps, with their iridescent blue wings, and Paper Wasps, and Bumblebees, and . . . and . . . and so many to fill your reusable bag.

In the Fly By Day aisle, there are a few special selections, the first being this Lacewing that could be featured in a “Where’s Waldo” picture, so well camouflaged it is.

And a Crane Fly that you can scare people with and pretend it’s a giant mosquito. The thing is . . . they don’t bite. In fact, during their short lifespans, they don’t typically eat. So . . . little maintenance if you decide to put this one in your cart.

I’d be lax if I didn’t mention the employees such as this teenaged Ambush Bug who is very good at hanging out on Goldenrod plants near Black and Yellow Garden Spider webs, without getting tangled in all the drama.

But, being teenagers, sometimes two decide to tango in the breakroom under the Goldenrod, and these two canoodlers just had to have a bite to eat while they were so engaged. I’m sure the Sweat Bee never saw this coming.

If you do decide to stop by the shop, the Black and Yellow Spiders are the chefs and they’re happy to provide you with a Dog-Day Cicada meal all wrapped up and ready to eat on the road. They have other items on the menu as well.

That said, this coming weekend, I do believe that the hardware store will have some items on the grill. So stop by and sample whatever delectable they prepare.

Food is actually a part of all our lives (haha, as it should be) and our youngest son is fortunate to work at a company in Manhattan that has a personal chef who prepares breakfast and lunch each day, mostly with locally-sourced food such as what is available at my store.

If you do come to the my shop, know that you’ll probably have to wait in line behind the Eastern Phoebes, who perch at roof-height and swoop in and out . . . often helping themselves and then zooming to the self-serve checkout line.

The guard doe keeps an eye on everyone passing through the door, so I don’t have to worry.

Occasionally, all four of us take a break from our respective jobs and come together to share a locally-sourced meal of our own–a la Fly Away Farm. Oh, and the kid (young man!) in glasses is holding his Lacy Blue pup who is sure that everyone who visits the hardware store comes just to greet and pet her.

As My Guy and I went for a long walk today, and hiked a mountain yesterday, we tried not to talk shop, but it occurred to me that while my eyes glaze over when he starts telling tales about hardware happenings, so do his when I point out the wonders of the natural world.

And so, I try not to tell him how to run his business (“try not to” being the operative phrase), and he lets me operate my own shop in my own way–even if it is all in my imagination.

I suppose you could say that while I’m married to a hardware store, he’s married to a . . . I’ll let you finish the line.

In the end, we both take stock . . . naturally.

Field of Vision

~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

Sometimes it’s the big things that pull me out the back door and other times it’s the small things. But this past week, it was an in-between thing that did the trick. And kept me returning for more and more.

Feeding on the Phlox outside the kitchen window was a Hummingbird Clearwing Moth. I’d seen it on several occasions, but the minute I stepped outside it flew off. Until this day when it let me snap numerous photos as I watched it seek nectar from the same flowers our local Hummingbirds love to visit.

And once I was out there, I knew it was time to climb over the stonewall and visit the neighbor’s field to see what it had to offer, given that so many goldenrods are in full bloom.

Upon a Steeplebush, a Netwing Beetle looked like it was holding court. I love the featheriness of its antennae standing tall above those beady eyes.

On a nearby Meadowsweet, another in the Spirea family like the Steeplebush, a Two-striped Grasshopper was certain that I couldn’t see it. I could. And I could hear grasshoppers and cicadas and crickets and birds, a field orchestra in full rehearsal form.

And as has been the action of so many Gold-marked Thread-waisted Wasps, these two were canoodling. I suspect we are surrounded by so many because they are so good at reproducing. Not a bad thing.

Also on frequent display and frequently in flight were the Pearl Crescent Butterflies.

And they too canoodled, though a bit discreetly. If you look at the underwing, do you see the pearly-white crescent? Thus the common name.

I had hoped to find a date for this male Calico Pennant Skimmer Dragonfly, her coloring would be all in yellow where his is red, but I’m afraid for the moment he’s still single. Maybe one day soon a gal will show up. I know I’ll keep looking.

Along the dragonfly line of field residents, this immature Blue Dasher Skimmer also posed for me. Again, on a Steeplebush, which gives height and vision for those who seek prey.

But some, like this Lancet Clubtail, prefer lower vegetation, and I suspect that’s where most of its meals were found.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw this large orange butterfly and I thought, “First Monarch of the season for me.” Until it wasn’t. This being a Viceroy, so identified by the lines or transverse bands on upper and lower wings. Monarchs don’t have that additional band.

My heart skipped another beat when I spotted this female Jagged Ambush Bug hanging out among the Goldenrod flowers. My, what powerful looking front legs she has. The better to grasp a meal. Can you spot a potential meal in her sight? I saw it, but she never showed any interest while I was watching. Darn. I hoped for a little action.

Believe it or not, the Jagged Ambush Bug can tack down an insect as large as a Bald-faced Hornet, such as this one. I haven’t witnessed it yet, but there’s still plenty of summer left.

Paper Wasps were also making the rounds. And really, the flowerheads fluttered constantly with all the frenzied activity happening upon them.

Even a Great Golden Digger Wasp partook in some of the nectaring collection.

But . . . there was something else I wanted to see. And I suspected that if I really looked, I might have success.

Bingo. It was the white packages at the outer edge of the web that led me to the creator. Charlotte.

I had a feeling Charlotte would be writing messages somewhere in the field.

And indeed she was. Years ago, when I didn’t dare walk into the field because of ticks, I wrote a children’s story about kids coming upon these large Black and Yellow Garden Spiders as they ran through Goldenrod flowers. Of course, that was about 28 years ago and I was starring out the window at the same field I can now walk in.

And because I can now do so, I found Charlotte 2 . . .

And Charlotte 3 who was preparing a meal for later. It looked to be a grasshopper of choice. If I spotted three, can you imagine how many more spiders there are out there?

In my story, if I recall correctly, the young boy character was afraid to run through the field and the young girl tried to give him some facts about Black and Yellow Garden Spiders because she wanted to become an entomologist. I should pull it out of the filing cabinet and reread it, but it’s not one for publication. It was just fun to write.

The reason I can go into the field now is thanks to my neighbors, Karen and Bill. He has mowed a circular trail so she can walk her dogs, and I love it because I can walk my thoughts. It’s a place where I can meet old friends and learn from them, and make new acquaintances.

And right now it’s a place where I can celebrate my new sight thanks to the medical team that performed cataract surgery on both of my eyes over the past two week. Until all of this happened, I had no idea how much I’ve been missing (think road signs and car blinkers for starters–never mind all the little things in nature that I love to spy).

I’m forever grateful for this new field of vision, the nurses and techs and Dr. France of Eyecare Medical Group physically for me, and my neighbors who carved this path as a way to save all those critters, who like me, call this place home. Of course, many of the critters are also a source of pollination for their vegetable gardens.

But I’ve saved the best for last. For I spotted one more critter in the field, and when I got home, it was on the Hydrangea.

This is a White M Hairstreak Butterfly. Do you see the M marking just below the orange on its hindwing? This is a RARE sighting! To be sure of ID, I grabbed Butterflies of Maine and the Canadian Maritime Provinces by Phillip G. deMaynadier, John Klymko, Ronald G. Butler, W. Herbert Wilson, Jr, and John V. Calhoun from the shelf in our study. And there it was: “Status and distribution in Maine: Probably a rare colonist.” Of the five authors, I’ve worked with Ron Butler in the past, so I reached out to him.

After I finally attached the photo (he had to remind me that I had neglected to do that), Ron sent this response:

“Hi Leigh,

Definitely!  And the furthest inland record to date.  Do you post your observations to iNaturalist? If not, can you send me the date and lat-long (or location on a map – I can get the lat-long) for this record?

Thanks – Ron”

According to the comments section in their book, “The White M Hairstreak is an expected and welcome addition to our region’s fauna, with the first adult observation in Falmouth by Doug Hitchcox on 24 July 2018, followed by two more records in 2018 from Rockport (Brian Willson) and Eliot (Bryan Pfeiffer and Josh Lincoln). A female was also recorded from Eliot on 5 August 2020 (John Calhoun), making this the first known repeat occurrence at a Maine locality.

I am in great company. Of course, I’m already anticipating the next edition of the book–haha.

I thank you again, Karen and Bill, for giving me the opportunity to explore the field and to my medical team for making sure my vision is crisp and clear.

Field of Vision indeed!

The Summer That Is

~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

I was afraid this would be the summer that wasn’t. In the gardens, that is. Oh, and I use the word “garden” loosely, as mine are more a hodgepodge of flowers and ferns and herbs. But they are meant to be a safe haven as well, for birds and bees and even voles. And yes, woodchucks and porcupines.

Anyway, for a few weeks, as I walked about our property, it seemed there was hardly an insect visiting any of the early flowers–except maybe the Black Flies and Mosquitoes, and even they weren’t abundant this year. Gnats. Now that’s another story.

And then the other day I noticed an Ant scurrying across the Foxgloves where two Long-horned Flower Beetles were in full embrace.

Not only did I have insects to watch, but canoodlers at that. With what looked like a dozen legs in the mix. Ahem. Cuze there were, each insect sporting three pairs on the thorax.

These two had nothing to hide and so I watched until eventually they split up and went their separate ways. I only wish I knew where she laid her eggs.

On the edge of another homespun garden, I spotted a Common Candy-striped Spider with a meal sac all packed up, the meal being a bee that seemed like it was probably much larger than the spider. But the spider didn’t care. Meanwhile there was another bee seeking nectar and I worried about its future.

And then Candy-striped started toward the live bee and I worried even more.

As you get a closer look at C-s, you may question the name. I did. My research turned up the fact that this egg-shaped arachnid can have an abdomen of varying colors from white to cream to green, and maybe even red. As for the stripes, there are those with broad or v-shaped stripes, but also my friend, who sports rows of dark spots.

The second bee flew off before being snagged, but if you look closely, you’ll see that C-s’s web is a tangle of threads and it had probably pulled down the flower petals to create a good hiding spot from which to snag its dinner.

As for that meal, it needed to be wrapped again . . .

and again, in an act to immobilize the prey and store it for a later meal. Kinda like a doggy-bag, of sorts.

Back in the first garden, I found a Crab Spider hanging out on a daisy.

And then watched as it turned and pounced, yes literally pounced, on a tiny Gnat-sized fly. Rather than wrapping this tiny source of protein, the spider grabbed and bit it in ambush style.

In my own garden-visitation style, I circled and circled and moved on to another and then returned to circle some more. For several days on end.

And with each circle, there was so much more to discover, like this Firefly visiting the same daisy where the same Crab Spider waited.

I must interrupt the garden saga here to say that every night of late, we have enjoyed the Firefly Show, an event that has been missing or greatly diminished in the past, but now has ramped up almost to the point of my childhood memories. Almost.

I could say that as I watched the insect and spider played a game, but it was hardly a game at all. Notice how the spider tapped the Firefly.

A brief retreat with the spider appearing to stay still (a skilled hunting technique), while the Firefly continued to probe.

And then the Firefly advanced. I wasn’t sure I could watch what would happen next for I knew how quickly the spider could pounce. Yet, I did. Watch that is.

And I’m so glad I did, for what I observed was the spider retreating. Was the Firefly too big for the spider? Or was there another reason to avoid capturing what I thought looked like a fine and chunky meal? Whatever the reason, I was happy to see that the Firefly didn’t meet its demise.

The last I saw of these two before the Firefly flew–the spider went back into hiding and the Firefly moved to the opposite side. I knew relief in my human form, but had no idea again of the answer to why.

Meanwhile, back at C-s’s hamper, I couldn’t find C-s, but did find the remains of another meal consumed. It continued to amaze me how C-s didn’t care about the size of its prey, while the Crab Spider seemed to have a preference for smaller meals.

On day 3 or 4, I found the Crab Spider in its usual spot as a Flower Fly with a strong proboscis sipped nectar.

And on a flower about two inches away, an exquisite Spotted Thyris Moth, and a few Gnat-like flies feasted. I kept waiting for them to visit the Crab, but perhaps they sensed its presence. I’ll never know, but while I watched, they stayed on this flowerhead.

On another, a bee gathered not just the nectar that so many of the insects seemed to seek, but filled the sacs on its legs with pollen as well. Lots of pollen. It actually looked like two pollen sacs per leg to me.

In the midst of it all, other insects flittered and fluttered over the flowerheads, sometimes pausing to seek nectar like most of the others. This Fritillary Butterfly is one of many that took advantage of the gardens as well as the clover growing in the yard.

Sweet William seemed to be a favorite landing spot.

As I’ve said, I walked back and forth for all these days between gardens, which have many more flowers than I’m sharing, but it was these few that seemed to host the most visitors, including this Pearl Crescent Butterfly. Take a look at the underside of the hindwing. About halfway down, close to the edge, do you see the crescent-shaped pearl?

On another, a Bee Fly with its own incredible wing pattern. And those eyes. And hairy body. Oh my!

Late this afternoon, something big and dark flew in and it took me a moment to realize what I was witnessing.

Fritillaries canoodling atop Sweet William. As this story began, it ends. Canoodlers in action.

These two, however, got smart, and found a room where I couldn’t observe their every move, for up into a Northern Red Oak did they fly.

I was so afraid that this would be the summer that wasn’t in the pollinator gardens, but it’s turned out to be the summer that IS! And I can’t wait to discover more. So expect more. You never know what you might discover at wondermyway.com.