Not one to ever be bored, I follow my brain in a million different directions every day.
Sometimes the thoughts are broad-winged, and even if I try to hide them, they catch up and stare me down.
Other times they are quick and race through my head in such a manner that I can hardly capture them.
And then there are those that are as small as a Spittlebug but still worth considering because everything counts.
Some moments I get to share with others and together we wonder how long the Heron will wait before taking the next step.
In that same space named for Otters we spy basking Painted Turtles who remind us we don't always need to slip into the water and disappear from the scene.
And then the Woody Woodpeckers of the North Woods Rat-a-tat messages best interpreted by their mates and I can only listen.
They may get a wee bit ruffled in their Pileated fashion, but I soon realize that's because his she was nearby. And then they flew.
Next, upon a fern so Sensitive, one with Spiny Legs doth land, a Northern Crescent in its mouth meant to provide nourishment.
Meanwhile, strung between other ferns of the Sensitive sort, a large Black and Yellow Garden Spider packages a meal as a smaller one looks on.
And I realize I've never seen such a small female and wonder why she hangs onto the web of her bigger sister.
Across the path another Black and Yellow has several packaged meals that may be a betrothal gift for her Guy dangles above her, he being much smaller and drabber.
And the Black-shouldered Spinyleg finds me again and practically smiles, if dragonflies can do such a thing.
Water also flows into the scene as it should for it is life giving even if its merely a trickle.
But the delightfully curious thing is that upstream the mosses imitate the water's action even where it is practically non-existent.
Upon the ground just above, the Big-toothed leaf that most recently gathered energy from on high chose to shut down and show off its colors before giving back to the earth.
It's in this same place that My Guy and I notice a Bear Claw Tree, the marks located just below a trail blaze and we wonder if the blazer was aware of the bear sign.
Back to a garden planted for Pollinators I wander alone and listen as a million bees buzz and watch the clear wings of the Hummingbird Moth remain almost stationary.
It's in this same place, just above a sign bearing the name of its adult form that I spot a caterpillar so many of us revere.
While spotting Monarchs has been a bit of a challenge these days, I rejoice that occasionally I have the thrill of being in their presence.
All of this and oh, so much more, as the hawk shouts that being ec-lec-tic means deriving a taste from a broad and diverse range of sources.
I'm so grateful to enjoy an eclectic view of the world on so many fronts, and to share with you just a smattering of what matters.
I have no expectations and only so much time to take a walk along a nearby trail.
Hiding below a wooden rail, An arachnid known as a Brown Harvestman rests. Though spider-like, it's not, for its body is single segmented.
Curious to see what else the posts may offer I meet a slow-moving Yellow Bear caterpillar, It's rusty-brown hairs warning me not to touch.
A few feet away, Whimsical with its brilliant red caps, known as the apothecia or fruiting bodies, a British Soldier lichen protrudes with a pop of color.
As I continue, one Harvestman becomes two, or three, resting below, and the long legs of these Daddies is all I can see.
And then by complete surprise, Hunchbacked in its former nymphal form, with legs so stout and lobster-like claws, I find a shed exuvia and my heart skips a beat.
Like the Harvestmen, where there is one, there's another, and I can only imagine their watermelon tourmaline bodies slowly emerging.
It's when I spot a crawling creature colored with vivid camouflage and golden-veined wings, I realize I've missed one of my favorite views of metamorphosis.
But still I am there to watch as the adult form reaches out, one muscular foot at at time, as it walks first sideways and then skyward.
I know from experience its tented wings will soon spread, but worry it will meet the web beside it, and rejoice when it instead finally flies into the forest.
On this late summer day I find another, and can only hope these Dog-day Cicadas have time to sing their raspy love songs that will continue the circle of life as they know it.
A few more steps and I must backtrack, for something large garners my attention, its mottled pattern resembling the post upon which this Carolina Sphinx moth rests.
A rustle and wing beats cause me to turn my gaze upward, and I spot a Broad-winged Hawk landing, and surveying the territory for a consumable meal.
Intently, it looks down, and all around with ten times the focus of my sight, those predator eyes fixed as they are, it must turn its head to see.
As I move the telescopic lens I begin to wonder if it thinks its a creature and I must admit that I duck when it flies off . . . first toward me before swerving.
All of these sights I spy in the course of forty-five minutes and maybe three quarters of a mile along the Mountain Division Trail.
On this day, I develop a love affair with the fence posts and all who gather there. Can you imagine if I'd gone any farther?
It rained. The sun came it. Rain drops continued to fall. Until they didn’t. Then the temperature rose to a degree we haven’t seen in over eight months here in western Maine. And we melted.
But, with the heat wave came some new visitors, including this male Baltimore Oriole, so named because his coloration resembled the coat-of-arms of Lord Baltimore.
The funny thing about Lord Oriole: he’d stopped by a few days ago when I had a sturdy chunk of suet in the feeder. After seeing him, I immediately added orange slices to the offering in hopes of enticing him to return.
And so when he did this morning, I marveled at the fact that he ignored the oranges and chose instead a small bite of the suet.
Adding more color to the yard was a male House Finch. He tarried not long for his gal paused in the lilac bush and then flew past and he followed in hot pursuit.
But I gave thanks to the finch for as I looked for him to return, I noticed movement on the outer edge of the garden below the back deck. Shuffling about the dried leaves looking to glean a meal was a Common Yellowthroat. My very own Common Yellowthroat. Certainly another reason to rejoice.
There was more rejoicing to be done for I eventually found my way to the vernal pool. I realized I’ve been avoiding it lately, ever fearful after discovering a few dead frogs that life had taken a turn for the worse within that small body of water.
But the surprise was all mine when I discovered recently hatched tadpoles resting atop an egg mass. The green color is an algae with which they share a symbiotic relationship. The algae colonize the egg mass and produces oxygen. Being symbiotic, it’s a two-way street and the algae benefits from the eggs by gaining carbon dioxide produced by the embryos. The carbon dioxide is needed for the photosynthetic process. For a few days after hatching, the tadpoles feed on the alga.
Salamander embryos within their own gelatinous also took on that greenish hue due to the same symbiotic alga. My heart was filled with joy for there were numerous masses within the pool, most of them spotted salamander. And now I can only hope that the pool stays wet enough for them to mature and crawl out as their parents did.
Leaving the pool behind, I wandered toward home, but a familiar call beckoned. It took a few minutes for me to locate the creator, but eventually I saw him.
On a sturdy branch parallel to the ground, the Broad-winged Hawk did dine. He also frequently announced his presence with his high-pitched voice.
As a true carnivore, he’s known to eat reptiles, amphibians, birds, small mammals and even large insects. From my stance, I thought I saw a long tail that didn’t seem right for a vole. Instead, I wondered if it was a snake. I kept expecting to be greeted by one beside the vernal pool and the hawk wasn’t all that far away. I suppose that means that if the salamanders and frogs are able to crawl and leap out of the water, they’d better find good hiding places because this guy and a possible mate have been soaring above for a couple of weeks and probably have a nest nearby.
In the end, it seemed that whatever his meal was, it was lip-licking good. Upon finishing it, he flew south while I trudged across the field to the east. But I suspect our paths will cross again going forward.
All of those finds were spectacular, but . . . one of the best parts of the day–watching Eastern Bluebirds in the yard. I first spied the male in this morning’s rain.
And then late this afternoon, I was surprised to discover that they were both here, the she and the he. For the most part, they stayed out by the stone wall, perched on branches above before flying down to catch a meal.
Then they flew closer to the house and landed atop the feeders where I don’t have any mealy worms that are much to their liking. I hadn’t even planned to still have the feeders out, but with each new day bringing new visitors, I’ve delayed taking them in for the season. That is, until a Black Bear arrives.
But no Black Bears yet. (Just wait, one will probably show up overnight or tomorrow.)
And so . . . Bluebird, Bluebird, through my focus. Thanks for taping me on the shoulder. ;-) And sharing this day with me.
On my way to meet a friend at the Wilson Wing Moose Pond Bog Preserve, the amount of sand on the road made me appreciate all the snow we had this winter and give thanks to those who cleared the way and kept us safe –constantly.
Never mind that I was lost in thought and this is beyond Foxboro Road where I should have been. After stopping to take this photo, I saw three things that were out of place–a road sign (at which time, I thought, “I didn’t realize the ‘no thru trucks, 26,000 RGVW at anytime’ sign was on Foxboro Road”–it isn’t); my friend passed me headed in the opposite direction; I came to the curve by Wiley Road and knew something wasn’t quite right. Whatever you do, don’t follow me. I’ll surely lead you astray. But if you don’t mind wondering, then let’s go.
It’s so different to be at Wilson Wing during the spring when the water tumbles over the rocks in Sucker Brook. We accepted the invitation to pause and ponder.
And enjoy fluid moments.
And hope in the greenery. This scallop-leafed goldthread made us get down on our hands and knees for a closer look.
As did the heart-shaped dewdrop leaves.
Another heart also spoke to us.
And the lichen and moss on this rock invited an up close and personal inspection through the hand lens.
We tried to figure out which crustose lichen it is. I’m leaning toward a disk lichen (Lecidella stigmata) because the black fruiting bodies are raised.
Then we saw a contrast in styles–soft moss and hard quartz.
Some trees were adorned with necklaces. Tree necklaces.
Our focus also included hobblebush, with its unscaled leaf buds
clasped together, perhaps in silent prayer for the bog and the life it supports.
Flowers are forming, but we don’t want to rush the season.
Then again, I can’t wait.
And then there was another story to unfold.
I thought beaver. My friend thought porcupine.
It was the wee amount of debris at the base of the beech that stumped us. And the fact that this was the only tree in the area that had been chewed in this manner. No scat to confirm. But my, what wide teeth you have.
We walked along and then moved off the trail. Looking around, we saw these and were finally able to turn the pages of the book.
Munched treats
and munched saplings told us who had moved about.
These chips are more what we would expect from a beaver. So here’s how we read the story. The fresh chew that caused the initial debate was perhaps the work of a two-year-old beaver forced to leave the lodge. It stopped along the way recently to nibble some treats. The sapling in the later photos was felled last fall, when it was time to renovate the lodge.
At the platform, we climbed up to enjoy the view, which includes the lodge.
We weren’t the only ones with a watchful eye.
I’m so glad you wondered along on today’s wander. Keep watching. There’s so much more to see.
wondermyway 