Bear to Beer: St. Patrick’s Day

March 17, 2019March 18, 2019 ~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

We drove to O’Lovell in western Maine late this morning with the plan to search for bear trees in an area where I’ve seen them in the past.

All along the main road to the Greater Lovell Land Trust property, Irish flags decorated random telephone poles and even a tree. The latter was our favorite for the person who hoisted it had to climb up the steep snowbank in order to show off the colors of the Emerald Isle.

Braving a thousand bumps, or so it felt as we negotiated potholes, frost heaves, and culvert depressions, we at last arrived at the end of a dirt (read: muddy) road and prepared for a hike up the oxymoron called Flat Hill.

While yesterday’s trek meant slogging through the wet snow, today’s brisker temperature allowed us to stay on top of the wintery surface, though we were thankful for our snowshoes.

Upward we climbed until we reached the coppiced red oaks and knew to turn right, walk off trail and begin our search among the beeches in the forest. You see, I knew there were trees to be found for I’ve seen them before, and I knew the turning point tree, but . . . the last time I looked, I couldn’t locate the trees with the bear claw marks. That, however, is a challenge my guy heartily accepts and so we split up and each set off to check all the trees in the forest. Well . . . almost all.

As is to be expected, my guy covered much more territory at a faster rate than I did and I wasn’t surprised to hear the distant call, “I got one!”

Indeed, he did. And a beauty was it. Can’t you just see the bear shimmying its way up and down the tree–several times over.

In my brain, a bear hug was the real deal from one of the original tree huggers. And I gave thanks for being accused of doing the same.

All the way to the top we could envision the quest for those tiny beech nuts that offered nutrition. Hmmm . . . isn’t it curious to note that the core of nutrition is “nut”? Or is it curious?

From the big tree, we moved up the mountain until we reached its sort of flat top where the view to the west is always a treat. And then we began to look about, for usually there is porcupine sign in the immediate vicinity to enjoy–that is . . . until I offered a porcupine prowl there two weeks ago and all we found were fisher tracks.

Today, however, was different and we found some fresh evidence that the porcupine is still in the area. We knew it by the teeth impressions left behind.

Further evidence was seen in some diagonally clipped twigs, scat, and even a strand of hair! Yes, porcupines have hairy bodies–including their quills. But on their bellies and faces they have a silkier variety–do you see it?

While I looked about the summit for more evidence, my guy stalked about below. Can you see him in the middle of the photo?

Eventually I wandered down to join him, pausing halfway to note some porky tracks leading upward . . . and downward, of course.

Below the ledges we hunted for his den, but found only tracks moving along the edges.

Though we never found the critter that we assume could easily look like a miniature bear if one were to remove all its quills, we enjoyed exploring the territory that is part of his home.

The delightful part of paying attention is the noticing. There were the organ pipes attached to the ledges, their music enhanced by drips onto rock tripe, ferns and mosses.

And an icicle of amber that stood at least two feet long.

Eventually we made our way back up and then down, again bushwhacking to look for more bear trees. We found a couple, but it was the works of others that also garnered our attention, such as this one that decided to split, but then came back together as if it was making up for time spent apart.

We found another tree with a burl that could easily have been mistaken for bear cubs spending time in a nurse tree. Typically, however, mama bear would choose a white pine for it would provide cover for her young ones as she went off to search for food for her brood.

Embedded in the snow was a squirrel drey and we mentally noted its location so we can go back another day after its no longer frozen in place and try to dissect it in hopes of better understanding such a structure.

And we spied a stonefly exoskeleton–an offering of total delight for despite its minute size, its discovery was right up there with the bear hug.

At last we left O’Lovell, with its Irish flags flying in the breeze, and found our way to O’Harrison, where we joined our friends, the O’Wisers for a beer and dinner.

The evening was topped off with Irish music performed by our favorite local acoustic folk band, Bold Riley.

From bear to beer, everyone was Irish today as we celebrated St. Patrick’s Day. Well, almost everyone–I did wear some orange and donned my Macmillen plaid flannel shirt. O’Macmillen! O’Hayes! O’Bear!

Prehistoric Creatures of western Maine

February 16, 2019 ~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

I heard it before I saw it as I reached the summit of the Greater Lovell Land Trust’s Flat Hill this afternoon. The rhythmic tapping sounded as if a structure was being built and so I looked upward expecting to see a treehouse under construction. Scanning all the trees in the mixed forest, I saw only their crowns.

And then I smartened up and looked at the snow. Bingo! Fresh debris atop this week’s layers of snow from two storms and I had a better idea of the construction worker’s location.

Sure enough, high up in a deteriorating yet live red oak stood the one with a crown all his own–brilliant red as it was in the afternoon sun. By the red mustache on its cheeks, I knew the pileated woodpecker was a he. Call him either PILL-ee-ated or PIE-lee-ated; the word means “crested.”

Sometimes, when these birds are intent on their work, I find I’m able to quietly move in a wee bit closer. Mind you, he was up quite high (at least 25 feet above me) and there were other trees between us. I hoped if he was aware of me that he knew I meant no harm. I just wanted to observe.

And so I did for a good while. Check out that chisel-like bill.

In a seemingly effortless manner, he pounded away. Did you know that a pileated can peck up to 12,000 times a day? Not all on the same tree, of course.

Thank goodness for extra-dense neck muscles and a compressible skull bone. Between hammering, this guy paused periodically. To admire his work? To check on the food supply? Or just to take a break?

Can you see one of his four-toed talons grip the edge of the excavation site?

One cool thing about woodpeckers is how they use their tail feathers for support–as if the third leg on a three-legged stool.

As I watched, I noted that Woody Woodpecker, a name I give all pileateds because their rattling call reminds me of the television cartoon I grew up with, kept digging a bit deeper.

And deeper still.

Then he’d take a break and turn his head away from the tree and I finally realized that the tree was at such an angle that to remove debris he needed to drop it below.

Eventually, he flew off and so I checked on the woodchips in hopes of finding scat filled with insect body parts. There was none. For all of his work gouging the oak, he didn’t seem to have found any carpenter ants or wood-boring beetles. Maybe that’s why he moved on. And so I did as well.

About halfway down the trail, I came upon a sight that might have delighted the woodpecker. I know I was thrilled.

Within a few feet I spotted a second one. They were snow scorpionflies. Much like the fact that Flat Hill isn’t actually flat, nor can the snow scorpionflies fly!

On his website “Bug of the Week,” entomologist Dr. Michael J. Raupp explains, “They belong to a small order of insects known as Mecoptera. The “scorpion” moniker derives from the fact that males in this group have unusually large and upward curving genitalia that resemble the stinger of a scorpion. The “fly” part of the name comes from the fact many species of Mecoptera have wings and can, well, fly.”

To fly and not to fly. Predator and prey. Despite their extreme differences, both finds today certainly struck me as being prehistoric creatures of western Maine.

Black Friday Lit Up, Naturally

November 23, 2018 ~ lmachayes ~ 5 Comments

With a mantra of “Shop Locally,” I did just that on this Black Friday 2018. Thankfully the time to take advantage of the doorbuster sales wasn’t limited and so it was okay that I didn’t pull into the Flat Hill parking lot until 1pm.

Turns out, as in any shop today, the aisles were a bit crowded with customers searching for items on clearance and other great deals.

I paused for a bit in aisle one, where I contemplated the Made-in-Maine artwork and thought about those on my Christmas list. Perhaps a water scene for Marita because she likes the gurgling sound of a brook.

For Pam K., I decided on an ice sculpture to add to her winter home.

And for Pam M., I was sure that an abstract piece would be just right–especially as it echoed the mountain range and transformed into a bird, only sorta/kinda M.C. Escher in style.

There were others on the list to consider and the decisions became more difficult as the selection increased in aisle two. Mouse, vole, squirrel both red and gray, deer and coyote tracks all were on display and the sign indicated I could buy one and get one free. But which one to buy? And for whom?

And then just like that, it became clear–the coyote track for Simon because he’d caught on quickly to the squirrel patterns and appreciated that the predator was hungry.

For every one set of tracks, there were fifty others, especially those of the mice and squirrels. But I chose the porcupine trough as my “get one free” when I saw it on the climb up the hill.

The trough with its pigeon-toed prints and sashaying tail would be perfect for Bob.

Of course, I could have mixed and matched the prints, but thought it best to keep them separate.

Continuing the dash for more must-have gifts, I spied a mossy maple polypore on a lower shelf and thought immediately of my guy. He doesn’t like to consume mushrooms, but there’s something about the mossy maple that draws his attention.

And then on an end cap I saw the kissing beech/maple out of the corner of my eye and turned to read the sign: Limited in Quantity. On impulse I purchased it. Maybe I’ll stick it on my guy’s bureau and he can wrap it up for me. I’ve done that before 😉

There were a few free surprises. Not all freebies are created equal, but I really liked the bronze ornament that would be a nice addition on our Christmas tree.

At last it was time for a little break at the Flat Hill Cafe. Today, the view offered more bang for my buck as Mount Washington glistened white behind the other mountains.

Also enjoying the view and the oxymoron of the name Flat Hill were fellow shoppers Bob, Pam K., Marita, Simon and Pam M. I made sure they didn’t see what was in my pack and visa versa. I do so hope they are as excited as I am about the gifts I purchased for them.

When the cafe got crowded, we decided to walk back down the main aisle together toward the check out. And then a few of us remembered we had coupons for the seasonal section. But . . . alas, we were too late. It was the only part of the store that was closed because everything had sold out. The stepping stones were covered with water and ice to keep us from venturing any farther. We turned around, only a bit disappointed that our shopping adventure was about to come to an end, but understood that being a three-season section we had taken our chances by arriving so late in the day.

No matter. The view from Perky’s Path thrilled us. All afternoon, we enjoyed the lighting, and especially the sun as it lowered–making this Black Friday light up, naturally.

I highly encourage you to visit; the doors are open all hours and it’s a great place to shop in style.

Today’s Black Friday Lit Up, Naturally experience was brought to you by the Greater Lovell Land Trust’s Flat Hill, Heald Pond Road, Lovell.

What the Bobcat Knows

March 11, 2018 ~ lmachayes ~ 6 Comments

As I drove down Heald Pond Road in Lovell today I wasn’t sure what awaited me. But isn’t that the point? Every venture into the great outdoors should begin as a clean slate and it’s best not to arrive at the trailhead with expectations.

f1-Heald Pond Road barn

And so I didn’t. Well, sorta. I really wanted to see a porcupine. And maybe an otter. And definitely an owl. But I knew better and so I passed the last barn on the road and then backed up and stepped out, captivated by the colors in the scene before me.

f2-trail signs

A few minutes later, I strapped on my snowshoes and headed up the trail. My plan–to climb to the summit of Flat Hill at the Greater Lovell Land Trust’s Heald and Bradley Ponds Reserve and then circle around Perky’s Path upon my return.

f3-trail up flat hill

Breaking trail was my job in the rather deep snow given recent storms, but easy to move upon and so I sashayed up. What surprised me, however, was the lack of tracks left behind by the mammals that I know live in these woods.

f4-pine cone bird feeders

I did stop at the balsam firs decorated by a local 4-H club in December as part of the Maine Christmas Tree Hunt. The dangling pinecones once sported peanut butter and birdseed, but today that was all a memory so I knew birds and deer had stopped by in the last few months.

f5-bobcat 1

And then, as I neared the flat summit, I found tracks of a mammal that had checked out the base of every tree and under every downed limb. In fact, as I soon realized, it was more than one mammal that I followed as I went off trail. Bobcats. Indeed. Though typically solitary, these two traveled together. It is mating season and males and females will travel together during courtship.

f11-bobcat print

Though the prints were difficult to photograph given the glare, by the toes, ridge and overall shape, I knew them.

f12-bobcat scat and print

And scat! Filled with white hair. I have close-up views should you choose a closer look, but chose to give those who find scat to be rather disgusting a break. 😉

f6-porcupine and bobcat

And then I found another set of tracks and knew that besides squirrels and little brown things, the bobcats were also searching for a bigger dinner. On the left–a porcupine trough, and on the right, the bobcat trail.

f8-porky work

Ever since I’ve traveled this trail, I’ve seen the work of the porcupines at the summit. And sometimes I even get to see the creator. In winter, porcupines eat needles and the bark of trees, including hemlocks, birch, beech, aspen, oak, willow, spruce, fir and pine. And they leave behind a variety of patterns.

f7-porky work

If I didn’t know better, I could have been convinced that this ragged work was left behind by a chiseling woodpecker, but it, too, was porcupine work.

f9-porky work

All about the summit, recent chews were easily identified for the inner bark was brighter than the rest of the landscape. And below these trees–no bark chips such as a beaver would leave, for the porcupine consumed all the wood.

f10-flat hill view

While snow flurries fluttered around me, the summit view was limited and it looked like the mountains were receiving more of the white stuff. (Never fear–we’ll get more as our third Nor’easter in two weeks or so is expected in two more days. Such is March in Maine.)

f13-script lichen between pine lines

From the summit, rather than follow the trail down, I tracked the bobcats for a while, first to the north and then to the south. I had hoped to find a kill site, but no such luck. Instead, the writing on the page was found upon the pines where script lichen, a crustose, was located between the lines of bark scales.

f14-ulota moss and frullania

I also found plenty of Frullania, that reddish brown liverwort that graced so many trees. And among it, a moss I’ll simply call an Ulota. As I looked in Ralph Pope’s book, Mosses, Liverworts, and Hornworts , upon arriving home, I realized I should have paid attention to capsules for that would have helped me determine whether what I saw was Ulota crispa or Ulota coarctata. Another lesson for another day.

f15-beaver pond on Perky's Path

At last I reached Perky’s Path, which may not seem like a major feat if you’ve been there, but actually I’d explored off trail for quite a ways and it took me a while to get down to the wetland.

f16-maleberry

And because I was in the wetland, maleberry shrubs bordered the edge and showed off their bright red buds and woody, star-shaped seedpods.

f16a-bobcat across wetland

After focusing on them for a while, I looked down at the snow’s surface and the most subtle of prints appeared before my eyes. My two bobcats. The curious thing–at the summit the mammals had sunk into the snow and the prints were a bit difficult to decipher. I assumed those summit impressions had been made about two days ago. But on the wetland, the bobcats walked atop the snow–when conditions were firmer and I suspected they’d been created last night.

f17-brook toward Bradley Pond 1

I followed the edge of the wetland to the bridges that cross a brook that forms at the outlet of Bradley Pond, constantly on the lookout for the bobcat tracks again.

f18-more bobcat

And I found them! Beside the brook.

f19-beaver pond from bridge

What had they found on the wetland, I wondered?

f21a-beaver trail

Continuing on, I found that they’d checked on the woodwork left behind by another critter of these woods who had also moved about last night.

f20-beaver works

Beaver works. And their piles of woodchips. Unlike a porcupine, a beaver doesn’t eat the chips. Rather, it cuts down a tree for food or a building material. The chips are like a squirrel’s midden of cone scales–the garbage pile of sorts.

f22-beaver trail to water

I noted where the beaver had moved into the brook . . .

f23-beaver treats

And left some sticks behind. For future food? Future building? Stay tuned.

f27-brook to Bradley pond

Typically in other seasons I can’t move beside the edge of the brook, but today I could. The lighting kept changing and water reflected the sky’s mood.

f24-Diamesa sp. and snow flea

And because I was by the water, I kept noting small insects flying about–almost in a sideways manner. Then I found some on the snow–a member of the Diamesa species, a midge I believe. And do you see the small black speck below it–a snowflea, aka spring tail.

f25-Diamesa sp.:haltere

And do you see the two little nobs on the fly’s back, the red arrow pointing to one? Those are the haltere: the balancing organ of a two-winged fly; a pair of knobbed filaments that take the place of the hind wings.

f29-beaver pond wetland low

Eventually, I followed the eastern edge of the wetland back to my truck, wondering if there was any more action but found none. In fact, the water was low so I knew the beaver works weren’t to rebuild the dam. Yet. Nor did I find any more bobcat tracks. But I’d found enough. And I think I know some of what the bobcat knows.

Christmas on Flat Hill

December 9, 2017December 9, 2017 ~ lmachayes

Two weeks ago the Greater Lovell Land Trust hosted a decorating party for the Fairs, Farms and Fun 4-H Group of Sweden along the trail to the summit of Flat Hill. It was the perfect tie-in to our planned hike to do the same during a guided walk scheduled for this morning.

f-finding the right spot

The homeschooled kids in the club had created ornaments with pinecones, peanut butter, and bird seed, plus garlands of cranberries and popcorn.

f-all done

Their efforts were for the first annual Maine Christmas Tree Hunt, a scavenger hunt intended for families to visit trails on several western Maine land trust properties.

f-Christmas Tree

The plan was to decorate one tree along the trail, but they had made so many ornaments that five or six trees actually were transformed into works of Christmas treats for the birds and mammals that call this place home.

f-chickadee

And so this morning we set off to check on the trees the kids had decorated and add a few of our own. We wondered what the ornaments might look like after two weeks. Some pinecones were nearly nude of the bird seed that once coated them. And if you look closely at the bottom left of this one, you’ll see a splash of gray–a chickadee moved quickly as it snatched seeds.

f-cranberries

We also discovered that the popcorn was a big hit and most had been consumed, but the tart cranberries remained.

f-ornaments 3

There’s still more out there and we added a few fresh ornaments today, so I highly encourage you to pull on your boots (and it looks like you might need snowshoes as it’s snowing while I write) and head to the trail at the end of Heald Pond Road in Lovell.

f-beech leaf skeleton

While you’re there, take a look around. There’s so much more to see, including skeletons of beech leaves,

f-bear claws

bear claw trees,

f-polypode spores

and polypody, some still dotted with sori.

f-baldfaces and Mount Wash

If your experience is anything like ours was, you’ll probably spy Mount Washington standing pure white between the branches of the red maple tree at the summit.

f-mt wash

And if you look closely, you may even see the buildings at the top of the greatest mountain in the Northeast.

f-porky 1

That’s not all that came into view. We occasionally are treated to the sight of the resident porcupine who lives in the area. And today–voilà.

f-porky bites

On our way partially down the back side of the summit cliff, we spied evidence of his work.

f-ice 2

And while we were looking, a crevasse drew our attention.

f1a-ice

The beauty of ice never ceases to draw out long “Ahhhhhhs.”

f-ice 3

The granite boulders wore the ice like necklaces–reminiscent of quills.

f-porky 2

And we got a tiny bit closer to our prickly friend.

The gifts are plentiful this Christmas season on Flat Hill. Take a hike and enjoy the wonders.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah from the Greater Lovell Land Trust and me.

I Spy, You Spy, We All Spy

October 11, 2017October 11, 2017 ~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

As I stepped out the door early this morning to dump yesterday’s coffee grounds, my eyes were immediately drawn to a pattern in the dew and I knew that Porky had paid us a visit.

t-porcupine trail in morning dew

His trademark sashay showed in the wet grass almost as well as it does in snow with that pigeon-toed pattern and swish of a tail. Only yesterday I’d been noting all the freshly nipped oak branches in our yard and woodlot, cut as they were at that telltale 45˚ angle.

t-flat hill sign--oxymoron

And then, after today’s coffee (grounds waiting until tomorrow to be disposed) and breakfast, I drove to Lovell to meet up with some Greater Lovell Land Trust docents for a climb up Flat Hill–that oxymoron of a name. But really, the summit is rather flat–after climbing the hill, of course.

t-trail light

It was early and felt more fall-like than we’ve experienced of late and we reveled in the temperature as well as the light along the trail as the sun played with the leaves and added a golden glow to our day.

t-coyote scat 1

When we weren’t looking up, we looked down. One of our first sights–scat! Coyote scat, we thought. Only the contents of this scat were different than most.

t-coyote scat 2

And so we went in for a closer look–for it was filled with quills. Not my home porky, but we know that the summit and rocky ledge below are porcupine territory so it made perfect sense that we found such scat in the middle of the trail.

t-fox scat

We found more scat a little further along–this one was filled with berries and seeds and also in the middle of the trail, atop a rock. Smaller in size, we suspected red fox.

t-paper birch lenticels

There were other things than scat to attract our attention, like the long lenticels on a downed paper birch–their pattern looking like either zippers on a jacket or a bunch of spruce trees in their spire formation.

t-maple-leaf viburnum

We marveled at the color and texture of the maple-leaf viburnums–like no other in the mix.

t-hop hornbeam bark and leaf

And when we reached the hop hornbeams with their shaggy bark and double-toothed leaves, we knew to look below for their seed pods. It wasn’t an easy search for they are small and blend in well with the birch and hornbeam leaves on the ground.

t-hop seed 2

But we found one–its papery sack enclosing the nutlet. We were curious to see the seed and so opened the inflated casing. It was almost a 3D tear-drop shape, coming to a sharp point.

t-hops

Skipping ahead for a moment, after we finished hiking I visited a tree back near the parking lot where Pam and I had noted plentiful fruits in the summer. It takes about twenty-five years for a hop hornbeam to fruit. And the common name–“hop” refers to the seed clusters that represent true hops used in beer production.

t-summit view 1

At last we reached the summit and stood for a while, in awe of the color display before us.

t-polypody 1a

From the same spot, we also noted the polypody ferns that grow upon the summit rock.

t-polypody spores 2

Ferns reproduce by spores rather than seeds. The itty bitty spores (think dust sized), called sporangia, grew on the underside of these leathery frond leaflets. The sporangia form clusters called sori and in the case of polypody the sori are naked. Some had already dispersed.

t-chipmunk

At last we started down, but not without a side trip of bushwhacking and annoying a chipmunk who had some housekeeping details to attend to.

t-docents 1

Less than three hours later (amazing for us), we gathered at the bottom and said our goodbyes to Darbee and David on the left–they’ll return to their winter home soon. Bob and Pam will hang with us for a bit longer, but while I reflected on all the wonderful reasons to enjoy winter in Lovell, the two couples made plans to connect in their winter habitat.

t-wooden spoon

The day wasn’t over yet and this afternoon another docent and I set up a “Kim’s game” of natural and unnatural items on a sheet covered with a bandana on the trail behind the New Suncook School. Then we walked further along the trail and hid a bunch of unnatural items for our after-school Trailblazers to locate. (We had to relocate them as well and are almost certain we found all of them. Maybe . . . )

t-noticing leaf colors

Before the kids did anything though, they introduced Linda to their trees–clusters of trees really for all are copiced, that they’ve befriended and named and gotten to know up close and personal. This afternoon, they noted that the colors of the leaves were changing.

t-Linda and Sassy

They loved giving Linda a tour and she loved being part of the action.

t-alligators in the woods

The kids did an excellent job with their observation skills, including locating at least one species that didn’t quite belong in these woods.

t-fallen log 1

And then we started gently rolling over fallen limbs, curious about what we might find below.

t-red-backed salamander

And what to our wondering eyes should appear? A red-backed salamander under the first one. We rolled a few more and didn’t find much. But then we heard something and stood still as we listened. Finally, it called again and we called back–a barred owl was somewhere nearby. At last it was time for the kids to head home and as we walked out of the woods to meet their parents, we stopped to roll one more log–where we found a yellow-spotted salamander. Unfortunately, in our excitement, I couldn’t take a decent photo, but still . . . we were thrilled.

What a perfect day–of I spy, you spy, we all spy. Indeed we did.

Poking Along On Perky’s Path

July 14, 2017July 14, 2017 ~ lmachayes ~ 2 Comments

Every Greater Lovell Land Trust trail is my favorite in any given moment and so it was that Perky’s Path received that ranking today.

p-beaked hazelnuts 2

I met my friend Pam in the parking lot and immediately our hunt for great finds began. We looked first at the basswood, but it was the shrub next door that heard us utter with delight–a beaked hazelnut showed off its fuzzy horned fruits.

p-hops on hop hornbeam

And then we walked back up the road a wee bit for at the entrance to the parking lot I’d spied a hop hornbeam also loaded–with hops.

p-striped maple sign

At last, we started down the trail, heading south where a self-guided tour begins. A small group of GLLT docents spent the winter months preparing signs for a variety of species along this route. It’s a task that requires choosing a particular trail one summer for the next, determining which species to ID, taking photographs, gathering and writing facts, creating and printing cards, laminating them, attaching them to posts, relocating the species and finally erecting the posts, which will be left in place until Labor Day. That’s a lot of work, so if you have a chance, take the tour. It includes trees, shrubs, flowers, ferns and more.

p-American toad

As we walked, the ground at our feet moved–in hopping fashion. We only saw one American toad, but plenty of frogs.

p-bloated female wood frog 2

All of them sported their camouflage colors, so after the ground moved, we had to focus in order to relocate them once they paused.

p-bloated female wood frog 1

This female wood frog’s robber mask was the only thing that helped us locate her.

p-young wood frog hiding under starflower leaf

You’ll have to use your own focus to find the baby wood frog that hid beneath a decomposing starflower leaf.

p-spring peeper

And another teeny, tiny one–a spring peeper with the X on its back.

p-common brown cup, Peziza varia

Because we were looking down all the time, we began to notice other things, such as the common brown cup fungi which looked rather like a wrinkled ear.

p-black trumpet Craterellus fallax

We also found a few black trumpets,

p-chanterelles 1

chanterelles (I’m leaning toward Cantharellus cibarius but don’t take my word for it–check with the Veitch brothers of White Mountain Mushrooms for positive ID is you are a forager.),

p-caesar's mushroom 1

and a couple of Caesar’s.

p-Indian cucumber 2

Though we found one Indian cucumber root that had been broken, its fruit continued to form.

p-round-leaf pyrola 3

Our hearts throbbed when we recognized that here and there hiding among the herb layer were round-leaved pyrolas.

p-round-leaf pyrola1

Their leaves were nearly round with petioles or stems no longer than the blade.

p-pyrola flowers 2

And their flowers–nodding.

p-pipsissewa flowers 1

Pam had shown me a photo of a pipsissewa that grew on her property and we then found a small patch just off the trail, their jester-hat flowers attracting small insects.

What better way to admire those flowers than up closer and personal.

p-Pam's brackenfern hat 1

And then it was time to don a brackenfern cap for the mosquitoes were at times annoying–and biting.

p-Indian pipes 1

As we continued on, we noted that it is Indian pipe season. I asked Pam if she’d ever seen the pink version that occasionally occurs–and then we began to find several nodding heads . . . all with a tinge of pink.

p-lichen sign

As we neared the platform overlooking the meadow and brook that flows between Heald and Bradley ponds, a sign of a different kind stood before a tree. Rather than focusing on one species, this one described the different formations of lichens.

p-lichen tree

And on the tree behind it–an example of all three, with several types of crustose (crust-like and look to be painted on), foliose (foliage) like the small ribbon lichen that is bright green and ribbony in the upper right hand corner, and fruiticose (think grape branches) of the beard lichens below the ribbon lichen.

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Behind that tree–another featuring lungwort lichen.

p-view to the south

For a few moments, we paused at the platform bench–taking in the sights . . .

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and sounds as we wondered what may have passed through.

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We also noted the difference in structure of the spireas, including steeplebush in bloom . . .

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and meadowsweet not yet.

p-swamp candle, aka yellow loosestrife

Swamp candles added a tinge of color to the offerings.

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Back on the trail, we were excited to find the porcelain beads of clintonia, one showing the transformation from green to blue.

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Dew drops shone white against their dark heart-shaped leaves covered in rain drops.

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And further on by the primitive bridges that cross below the beaver pond,

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tall meadow rue flowers presented a daytime fireworks display,

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while otter scat decorated a bridge slat.

p-end sign

We continued along, enjoying the offerings and quizzing ourselves on a variety of species, all the time pausing to read the self-guided tour signs. At last we reached the junction with the trail to Flat Hill and found our way back to the parking lot.

Perky’s Path is maybe a mile long, but it took us 3.5 hours to complete the tour as we poked along–rejoicing with each of our finds.

At a Snail’s Pace

May 30, 2017May 30, 2017 ~ lmachayes ~ 4 Comments

The mosquitoes were thick. The ground damp. But the rain held off and so four docents and I met at the Greater Lovell Land Trust‘s Flat Hill parking lot at the end of Heald Pond Road.

p-beaked hazelnuts forming

From the getgo, our fun began as we spotted numerous beaked hazelnuts forming–the trick is to pay attention to them and watch their continued growth, for in a flash, or so it seems, they’ll mature and . . . disappear. The nuts those hairy beaks cover are favorites for wildlife and we human folk also like them.

p-red trillium

Our mission was to get reacquainted with the spring flowers–some being obvious to us like the red trillium, though the fact that it was still in bloom offered a delightful surprise. We chatted about the fact that its also known as Stinking Benjamin for its undelightful odor, but try as we might and we did again today, none of us have ever been offended by it. Apparently, they smell like rotting meat, but you can’t prove it by us.

p-fringed polygala

Here and there we were awed by the delicate fringed polygala, aka gaywings. They did remind us of birds with crazy head dresses taking off in flight.

p-false solomon seal

As we shared brains and practiced relearning species before the next season gives us even more, we felt proud to quickly ID a false solomon seal, aka wild spikenard, before it had fully flowered. It’s the cluster of flowers on the end branch, the arching, zigzag stem and long oblong leaves that stand out in our minds.

p-Rose Twisted Stalk or Rosybells

A seal of another sort, the rose twisted stalk, aka rosybells, also adorned the trail. Pam held the stalk up so we could look at the bell-shaped flowers that dangled below. Notice how the leaves are green below and stalkless but don’t necessarily clasp the stem–as opposed to twisted stalk (white mandarin), which features greenish flowers dangling below and stalkless leaves that do clasp the stem. Plus the latter’s leaves have a white bloom on the underside. We didn’t see any twisted stalk, but were tickled with our rosybell finds.

p-raindrops all in a row

Periodically, we stopped to examine ferns, or quiz each other on the ID. But sometimes, it was just fun to notice presentations, including raindrops all in a row.

p-beech fern

And though a couple of our fern experts couldn’t be with us, Joan was and she loves nothing more than squatting beside them with the Fern Finder to determine a species, including the long beech fern.

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It was while looking at bracken ferns that Mary and Nancy spotted the greenish yellow flowers of clintonia. We were excited because we’d seen plenty of plants, but these were the first in flower, and they were well hidden.

p-clintonia flowers

Yellow clintonia is also called bluebead for the fruit that develops is a porcelain blue bead-like berry. Check out those pistils (she’s a pistil) dangling below the stamen, their anthers coated in pollen. Bring on the bees and the beads.

p-baby toad

Suddenly, we discovered movement at our feet and saw our first baby toad of the season. It’s diminutive size and obvious camouflage made it difficult to see, but unlike the adult members of its family who will freeze in position, thus allowing us to study them further, this little one wanted to escape as quickly as possible. Smart move on its part.

p-bench view

Only about two hours later we’d covered maybe a half mile and found our way to the bench that overlooks the swampy area surrounding the brook between the beaver pond and Bradley Pond.

p-red maple leaves

We sat below a red maple and listened to a chorus of birds–and gave thanks for the food supply. Let them eat bugs. We offered up a few mosquitoes.

p-red-winged blackbird

A red-winged blackbird flirted with us, showing off its bright red shoulder and yellow wing bar as it flew from shrub to shrub. The five of us swooned.

p-Indian Cucumber pre-flower

All along the path, we’d spotted Indian Cucumber Roots with their buds formed atop the second layer of their double-decker formation. When we finally stepped from the bench back to the trail, we noted a couple of the buds were beginning to dangle below the second story, meaning the blossoming season would soon be upon us.

p-Indian Cucumber flower 2

And just like that . . .

p-Indian Cucumber flowering

Voilà. I’m of the belief that if this flower doesn’t make you wonder, nothing will.

p-beaver pond view

Our next stop was at the bridges that cross below the beaver pond. We’d been looking for fresh beaver works all the while, but only discovered the work that had been completed over a year ago.

p-royal fern crown

There was still plenty to see, including the fertile crowns atop royal ferns,

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a small jack-in-the-pulpit,

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and a mayfly that chose Pam’s jacket to rest upon.

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One of our many finds included foam-flower, with its cluster of star-shaped white flowers and conspicuous stamens. According to Mary Holland in her book, Naturally Curious Day by Day, “Its genus name, Tiarella, is the Greek word “tiara,” a word for a turban worn by ancient Persians which bears some resemblance to the shape of this flower’s pistil.”

p-foamflower carpet

Tiara or not, we were quite taken with a carpet of it.

p-snail

Those were only a few of the findings we saw as we moved at a snail’s pace during our three hour tour along Perky’s Path. Each time we visit, we say, “This is my favorite property.” That is . . . until we visit another one of the GLLT properties.

The Irish Colors

March 17, 2017March 17, 2017 ~ lmachayes ~ 5 Comments

With so much snow still on the ground, it’s easy to see the landscape as a monochrome palette of grays. And so I set out on this St. Patrick’s Day to find some color.

My destination was the Greater Lovell Land Trust‘s Flat Hill trail and Perky’s Path from the end of Heald Pond Road. The parking lot is almost non-existent, so much snow do we have. And the bridge crossing tricky.

As I climbed upward, the thought that some see the world as black (cherry) and . . .

white (paper birch) kept racing through my brain.

And then there are those who accept that gray areas exist (gray birch–a brother of paper birch from another mother).

Textures visible in shadows reflected differences (yellow birch–a cousin),

even among family members (hop hornbeam–also a birch relative.)

It may have seemed there wasn’t much new to see and wonder about, but . . .

the straddle (width from outside of one print in a set to outside of the other) and angle of these prints told a different story. A mink had crossed the trail. (My mitten had to hold the Trackard in place or it would have slid down the trail.)

Nearing the top, I went in search of another mammal who has frequented this area for years–and I wasn’t disappointed. The porcupine trough was fresh.

And then I reached the summit of Flat Hill (forever an oxymoron) and the whites, greens, browns and blues of mountains and sky opened before me. There was even a hint of red in swelling buds.

The wind was cold, so I didn’t pause for long. Instead, I retraced my own tracks down the hill.

And then I turned onto the orange trail that is Perky’s Path and realized the symbolism of the color and this day. My Scottish ancestors smiled down on me.

I’m always drawn to the wetland and had to take a peek at the beaver lodge, which remained snow covered, indicating that no one was home. But there again, the sky enhanced my view.

The path leads to another set of small bridges, and there I stood for a while, taking in the peacefulness and beauty before me. Oh, and the warmth of the sun as its strong rays embraced me.

While I stood and listened, a chickadee called and I watched as it entered a hole in the birch snag. This was a wow moment, for though I know birds use old pileated holes, I rarely see them come and go.

Out he popped, giving a curious look–perhaps because I was pishing.

He paused for a moment and then flew off, chickadee-dee-deeing across the bright blue sky.

I, too, took off, but not before enjoying a few more reflective moments.

The juxtaposition of snow, hemlock branches, water and ice created colorful swirls of artistic design beyond understanding.

And then I found a few wintergreen plants, their waxy leaves transforming from winter maroon to summer green.

On my way out, I stopped to examine a few buds–and catkins, in this case. I love winter, but I am beginning to crave color and beaked hazelnuts will be among the first to flower.

A striped maple showed off its waxy buds, leaf scars and growth rings. The bud reminded me of hands in prayer–perhaps worshipping the patron saint of Ireland.

One bud was sheathed in white. Even with my hand lens, I couldn’t figure it out. I’d like to think it was an angelic covering, but suspect it is a cocoon.

And then there were the bulbous bright buds on the basswood tree.

Indeed, they were a sight to behold. Though winter reduced the color palette to the essentials, slowly the transition to spring has begun.

My journey was done, but I made one more stop along Route 5, where Irish flags flapped in the breeze to commemorate this day. The Irish color–where white signifies the truce between the Orange and the Green.

I always wear a hint of orange on this day in contrast to my Irish guy’s green. And I remind him that St. Patrick was born in Scotland.

Frigid Reflections at Flat Hill/Perky’s Path

January 14, 2017January 14, 2017 ~ lmachayes

A sheet of ice greeted me in the parking lot at the GLLT’s Flat Hill trailhead this morning, not to be unexpected given the recent rain and fluctuation in temperature. From -8˚on Monday to +50˚ midweek and this morning back to 0˚, we’ve been riding a thermometer rollercoaster. Consequently, I chose micro-spikes over snowshoes and made sure I packed my hiking pole and hand warmers.

f-pumpkin

Even the pumpkin had an ice covering? What? I know not where this came from or what the “5” means, but it sits upon the basswood stump beside the lot and greets all who pass by.

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Despite the rain and warmer temps for a couple of days, the snowpack is still over a foot deep and quite dense.

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In fact, it’s so dense, that a previous snowshoer who probably had hiked this way last weekend, barely broke through, and I was able to stay on top, except for an occasional post hole. Well, maybe more than occasional given that I frequently went off the main trail to check things out.

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Upon the trail, the leaves of marcescent trees gathered in the snowshoe indentations.

f-sugar-maple

Even a few that aren’t marcescent made their presence known, like this sugar maple. A friend ask me recently about the pronunciation of that word that I love to say because of how it makes my mouth work: ˌmärˈses(ə)nt. He wanted the first “c” to be hard, but indeed it isn’t.

f-birch-polypore-1

A birch polypore growing at an abnormal angle made me wonder what had happened. I’m still wondering.

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And then I spotted a different color on the snow beneath a beech tree. This was when I realized that rather than my hiking boots I should have worn snow boots. A few post holes and the snow slipped in under the boot tongues.

f-pileated-hole

But . . . it was worth it. Up high–the elongated hole created by a pileated woodpecker.

f-pileated-scat

And down low–its scat. My day was made and I could have gone home, but . . . didn’t.

f-porky-pattern

As I continued hiking, I noticed tracks that crossed the trail in several places. They weren’t quite discernible, but I had a feeling they’d been made by a fisher. And then, further along, I noticed these, which though not perfect, were easier to determine. Their pigeon-toed, sashaying behavior indicated porcupine, a resident of this place (and prey of the fisher).

f-summit-deer-tracks

And at the summit, deer tracks.

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I love the name Flat Hill–an oxymoron it seems, though once you climb up, you realize that the top is almost flat. And from here the Baldfaces and Mount Washington enhance the view. I looked around for the typical porcupine works and perhaps the critter itself who sometimes can be seen in the treetops, but was disappointed to see neither. Despite the hand warmers, my fingers were frozen–probably because I kept taking my mittens off to take photos. I’d intended to eat lunch at the top, but it wasn’t to be.

f-polypody

Common polypody ferns that grow on the summit rock curled inward as if to confirm my chill.

f-blue-sap

And as I turned to descend, the blueness of pine sap seeping from a woodpecker hole also spoke to the day–the lower the temp, the bluer it appears.

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It was that sap that pulled my attention to another sight I’d missed on the way up. White pine branches were scattered below a couple of trees and tracks were almost visible all around.

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I looked up, but my friend was nowhere to be seen. And so I looked down to admire his work–angled cuts and nibbled needles. I can honestly say I’ve never paid attention to the needle works before.

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Amongst his offerings tree bark also decorated the forest floor for he discarded the bark to get at the cambium layer beneath. The one thing I didn’t find was scat. And believe me, I searched.

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Though most of his work was on older trees, younger ones had also been visited. I was just to the left of the trail summit and in the past I’ve searched the ledge below for a den. Today, I didn’t do so, but his path led in that direction. Perhaps he saved his scat to serve as insulation back at the homestead. I don’t know, can porcupines choose when and where to leave such offerings? Usually it seems that they don’t have such control.

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I left the porcupine findings behind and headed back down to Perky’s Path, a favorite place because of the wetland it passes through.

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No humans had been this way in a while, but a critter recently paid a visit.

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My brain went into overdrive. Could it be? Well, it had been warm for two days, so it could . . . be a raccoon. When I’m alone, I’m 100% correct, but today I kept questioning myself. The prints were the right size and the pattern and habitat worked. But if you think otherwise, I’m willing to listen.

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What I do know is that the beaver lodge, the uppermost hump on the left, remained abandoned.

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I decided to follow the wetland for a bit, until something caught my eye near the root system of an downed tree closer to the trail.

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Hair. Small tufts of it.

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Gray. With red tips.

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Hollow in structure.

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Beside hair-filled scat. There were no prints in the snow, such as it was. I wasn’t even digging post holes at that point, with the temperature lower closer to the wetland. Here’s my story of what I saw. As a red fox searched for prey, including in the hole beside the downed tree, the mites that have infected its skin made it itch. The tree roots provided the perfect back scratcher (there were a few hairs hanging from it) and so the fox took advantage. Its scat–incidental or intended, I’m not sure. Typically, it’s intended, leaving a message to others about boundaries, age, sex and the like. Does it also announce the presence of mites? Red foxes and not gray, are affected by the sarcoptic mange mites.

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After such a finding, I needed to move on. By the bridges that cross the wetland, the view was as beautiful as ever.

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Royal ferns, almost a memory, leaned over the water’s edge.

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Trees offered reflections in the flow of the water.

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And ice gathered in solid, yet fluid motion.

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Hoar frost flowers bloomed, speaking to the frigid temp.

I, too, was chilled, but happy to have time to reflect on the lives that call Flat Hill and Perky’s Path home. And then I was happy to head home, the heat in my truck on high for most of the trip.

Through Rose-Colored Glasses

August 2, 2015 ~ lmachayes

Beaver works was the name of my first adventure today. Last fall, some of the Greater Lovell Land Trust’s docents and I walked along the trail of this private property and saw the beaver trees, dams, ponds and lodges. But today, I felt like I was stepping into a completely different territory.

This week, thanks to the generosity of the landowners, we have a walked planned on the same property and someone has been rather busy–cutting off the path with a fallen tree and a flooded pond. With today’s pre-hike we have a sense of what to expect.

You know they are busy when you see their well-traveled path

and downed trees.

Or those that have been girdled but have yet to fall.

This old dam is quite large and no longer productive–you can see that the pond it once held is diminished to a small stream. The vegetation on top provides another sign of inactivity.

Inactive on the part of a beaver perhaps, but someone else passed by and left a baby-hand type print in the mud recently–or sorta recently.

The beavers moved on and changed things up elsewhere–one needs wellies in order to follow the straight line. We chose to go around.

In the process, we got to see another beaver pond. They’re everywhere!

The landscape is constantly evolving. I used to think it took a hundred years for a forest to change–that belief founded on what a junior high school science teacher said. I now know a wee bit more–it’s all in a state of constant flux. I think the same can be said for us–growing and changing with the years–physically, mentally, emotionally, socially and spiritually.

Off my soapbox–There are other fun things to see along this particular trail. I’ll only mention one–some bear sign. And yesterday morning, while placing a land trust sign on Route 5, I watched a young black bear cross the road–less than a mile from this trail and in a seemingly straight line with what we found today. I know that because of my X-Ray vision. (Disclaimer–what we found wasn’t created by the bear yesterday, but it shows evidence of a bear’s presence. Then again, there’s lots of bear sign in these woods.)

My guy was working and it’s been a while since I’ve gone on a solo trek, so I decided to journey on at another GLLT property–Flat Hill and Perky’s Path.