Bear to Beer: Pondicherry Wildlife Refuge

Our intention had been to explore the Pondicherry Wildlife Refuge in Jefferson, New Hampshire, during the summer months, but intentions are just that. An aim or a plan. In our case it was an aim that was a bit off plan.

Today, however, dawned, as each day does, and we honored the plan we’d made last night by packing a lunch and getting out the door by 9:30.

An hour and a half later, we’d driven across Route 302 through Crawford Notch, recalling sites we’d enjoyed from the Conway Scenic Train less than a week ago, and on to Jefferson where we found Airport Road, aka Hazen. At the kiosk, we developed a bit of a trail plan and then ventured forth.

The area is supported by several organizations as noted on a website: “Pondicherry is a Division of the Silvio O. Conte National Fish and Wildlife Refuge, and it is owned and managed by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in partnership with New Hampshire Audubon and the New Hampshire Department of Fish and Game. A local Friends group also plays a role in the management of the refuge, and the New Hampshire Bureau of Trails has specific jurisdiction for the rail-trails.”

For a mile and a half, we followed the rail trail to its vantage point. Well, not quite all the way, but to the Waumbek Station, where three rail lines once converged.

We thought we’d step out onto the Tudor Richards Viewing Platform, then continue on the rail trail. But, a woman ahead of us had stepped onto the platform to practice Tai Chi and so we let her be and walked for a bit on the Presidential Recreation Trail, a 20-mile link to Gorham, New Hampshire.

Along the way, much of the scenery looked more like November than October, given the fact that we were further north than our hometown. But, a few goldenrods still bloomed. And upon some of their stems, the Goldenrod Ball Gallmaker had made itself a home.

Though we’d planned to eat lunch upon the observation deck, we were delightfully surprised to locate a small bench overlooking Cherry Mountain and so down we sat. PB& Strawberry and Peach, we each enjoyed a half of the others intended sandwich.

Eventually, we returned to the observation deck and enjoyed the fruits of Witherod and High Bush Cranberry that outlined the boardwalk leading to Cherry Pond.

The Pliny Range offered a backdrop on this day filled with sun and clouds.

In the distance, Bufflehead Ducks swam.

Returning to the junction, we continued northeast where rail trail joined rail and one could imagine the clackety clack of trains passing by.

A bit further on, we turned left toward Little Cherry Pond, where the natural community began to seriously embrace all sorts of coniferous trees.

At our feet, the trail cover was a bit more golden and much shorter than our native White Pines.

Looking toward the sky, Tamaracks sang their cheery autumn song as their needles turned golden before dropping. I’m forever intrigued by this deciduous conifer. And thrown into the mix of the cathedral ceiling: spruces of colors I need to spend more time with for throughout the refuge grew white, red, and black spruce. My task down the road: get to know each one individually so that I recognize them in new settings.

While I can tell you that there are five needles in a White Pine bundle, three in a Pitch Pine, two longer ones in a Red Pine, and two shorter needles in a Jack Pine, the needles of the Tamarack are produced in clusters of ten to twenty.

They are attached to the twigs in tight spirals around short spur branches. giving the tree a feathery look.

Upon a downed conifer, a jelly fungus offered its own version of a flower.

At last we reached Little Cherry Pond, where more Buffleheads swam.

And then we noticed another swimmer who made us smile. Yes, that’s a beaver. We couldn’t see his destination for it was around a corner and signs warned us not to venture further in order to protect the area.

Backtracking a bit, all the while admiring the plants including Rhodora, Creeping Snowberry, Trailing Arbutus, Pitcher Plants, and so many more (I need to return in the spring), we found our way back to the Mooseway Trail. (Note: “You Are Here” was taken on the way in, but I wanted to give perspective. Look for the Mooseway Trail toward Mud Pond.)

Not long onto the Mooseway Trail, I was thrilled to discover Lungwort growing up a tree trunk. Its ridges and lobes create a leafy lettuce or lung tissue appearance (thus its common name).

Because lungwort’s main photobiont is a green alga, it is also a type of cyanolichen, thus meaning it contains nitrogen-fixing bacteria. When lungworts fall following a storm, they decompose into the forest floor, contributing their nitrogen reserve to the soil.

The Mooseway Trail seemed easy to follow at first, but soon it became more of a bushwhack and we wondered when the last human had ventured forth. We found all of three blue blazes indicating the way.

But after the third, we had a choice to make. Head north or south. We chose south. And within a short distance the trail completely disappeared. Thanks to GPS and occasional glimpses of Cherry Mountain, we persevered. And startled a snowshoe hare that startled us. I couldn’t capture it in a photo for so quick was its hop, but suffice it to say that the hare’s coloration was gray/white, given the next season that had already visited some of the surrounding mountains.

Maybe it only took a half hour, but it sure felt like hours before we finally found the rail again. I actually considered kissing it, but my guy convinced me otherwise.

There was so much more of the refuge to explore, but we followed the trail back, giving thanks to the shape of the mountain that helped give us perspective on our location as we’d bushwhacked.

And a backward look upon the pond brought to light the snow that had fallen upon the Presidentials, previously hidden in the clouds.

As for that darn Mooseway Trail that led us astray . . . it did have much to offer including this Bobcat scat. We also found a specimen of coyote.

And not only Moose scat, but also some prints. We were rather excited by that.

And then the crème de la crème: bear scat filled with berries. Yes, we’d scanned the trees for claw marks, but if they were there, they were difficult to distinguish (cuze, um, we were moving at my guy’s speed). Despite that, this display made us both happier than happy.

I had no idea when I chose most of the places for our Bear to Beer Possibilities, what the trail’s tales might be, but really, our success rate was quite high.

And we topped off our success by sipping some suds at an old fav in Glen, New Hampshire. For him: Moat Mountain’s Matilda’s Red Rage. For me: Tuckerman’s Pale Ale.

For both of us: Bear to Beer–we got this one. Seven miles later, bear scat to beer at Pondicherry Wildlife Refuge and Red Parka Pub.

Black Friday Shopping Extravaganza

I somehow slept in and totally missed the early bird specials today, but still by midmorning I found my way to the store of my choice.

b1-trail sign-cross the threshold

It had been two years since I’d stepped over the threshold into the MDT shop and I’d forgotten what great selections it had to offer. While the last time I approached from the Fryeburg Information Center near the Maine/NH border, today I decided to use the back door and entered by the Eastern Slopes Airport.

b8-the main aisle

Beginning along the main aisle, I was delighted with the display before me. And lack of customers. Oh, I passed several groups, some in a hurry as they ran, others chatting amiably with friends or relatives, but all quite friendly and courteous. Even dogs were well behaved and therefore welcome.

b2-choice of colors--sweetfern 1

Immediately I had decisions to make. Which shade did I want?

b3-shapes,

And would I prefer a different style or shape?

b12-red oak 1

Had I thought about brown and bristly?

b13a-white oaks

Or did I like salmon and rounded?

b13-red oak on line

Though I preferred the salmon color of the white oak, I did like how the red oak leaves dangled in hopes of being plucked by a customer. And if not a customer, then perhaps the wind.

b11-cattails

In aisle five I found some cattails ready to explode into the future.

b11-cattail sparkles

Their tiny, parachuted seeds reminded me of sparklers on the Fourth of July, but because today is the day after Thanksgiving, I suspected these fireworks were intended for New Year’s Eve.

b6-autumn thistle

It seemed that everywhere I looked, the store was decked out with hues of silver and . . .

b4-aster display

gold.

b5-brown lacewing

And while admiring the golden decorations, I discovered I wasn’t the only one looking. A brown lacewing had heard there were deep discounts to be had.

b12-birch beer

As one should when one is spending an exorbitant amount of time (and perhaps money, though in this case no cash or credit was part of the deal), rehydrating is a good thing and the birch had been tapped for just that purpose. It’s been a long time since I enjoyed the unique taste of a birch beer, but thanks to a sapsucker it was on the menu at the snack bar.

b7-bench

And what better place to sit and sip, than on a bench in aisle 6.

b3a-winterberries

Refreshed, I was again ready to shop till I dropped. Everywhere I looked, the Christmas decorations impressed me.

b14-red oak Christmas decorations

The season’s colors enhanced the merchandise.

b19-Sumac decorations

And all ornaments were handsome in their own way.

b9-tamarack gold

As is always part of my shopping adventure, I didn’t know what I was looking for when I entered the store. But as soon as I saw this display, I knew I had to have it.

b10-tamarack 2

Its label was lengthy–tamarack, larch, hackmatack. Call it what you want, it’s our only deciduous conifer for it looses its needles in the winter. But first, the needles turn from green to gold and announce their presence.

b15-pitch pine trunk

Also in abundance as this shop–pitch pines. It’s so easy to confuse a pitch pine with a red pine, but a few identifying tips help. The unique thing about this tree is that not only do the stiff, dark yellow-green needles grow on the branches, but they also grow on the trunk. If you spy a tree that you think may be a red pine, scan upward and if you see green needles along the trunk, then you’ve discovered a pitch pine.

The name, pitch, refers to the high amount of resin within this tree.

b16-pitch pine cones

It’s the needles of pitch pine that also add to its identification for they grow in bundles of three, like a pitchfork’s tines.

As for their cones, you can barely see the stalk because they tend to be clustered together, but their key feature is the rigid prickle atop each scale tip.

b20-Northern White Cedar

I was nearly at my turn-around point of three miles when I realized I was standing beside a row of doorbuster deals.

b21-northern white cedar leaves and cones

I couldn’t resist feeling the scale-like leaves of the northern white cedar. I had to have this item.

b17-black locust bark

I did find one thing I decided to leave on the shelf–for the spines of the black locust would have pricked my fingers, I’m sure.

b18-black locust seed pod

Apparently, others did purchase this, for only one fruit pod remained.

b25-heading back

At last, I was on my way back up the main aisle with hopes to make a bee-line out, but had a feeling something around the bend would stop me in my tracks.

b23-pokeberry geometric display

Sure enough–the pokeberry display was both geometric . . .

b23-pokeberry artistic display

and artistic in a dramatic sort of way.

b27-bird nest

As I continued on, I saw and heard birds flitting about and thought about the fact that I need to visit this shop more often, particularly in the spring and summer for the various habitats made me think that birding would be spectacular. And then I spied a nest attached to some raspberry bushes. I knew not the species that made it, but hoped some small brown critter might use it as a winter home and so it remained on the shelf.

b26-heading back 2

At last, I’d raided enough aisles. My cart was full to the brim and my brain overwhelmed. I guess I’m not really a “shop-til-you drop” kind of gal. It was time to wind along the trail and end my Black Friday shopping extravaganza.

 

Sunday School

After church this morning, I stepped out the door, passed through openings in a couple  of stonewalls and then down the cowpath, crossed the power line, and ventured into my smiling place. It had been more than several months since I’d pushed the hemlocks aside to enter for it’s a wetland and woodland filled with growth that can make it difficult to meander through without snowshoes. But before winter arrives, I wanted to take a peek and learn what I could along the way.

o-oak saplings

My lessons started early as I noted a couple of red oak saplings growing in the hollow of an old tree stump, their color reminiscent of the Christmas season. Last year’s mast crop (and another for some oak trees this year) meant a plentiful supply of food for weevils, little brown things, squirrels, turkeys and deer. And yet, not all were consumed and so they sprouted. Now my plan will be to wait and watch–and wonder which of this array actually will win the race to adulthood.

o-huge squirrel cache 1

A little bit further into the woods, I spied a huge cache of white pine cones. This made my heart sing, for I love to keep on eye on big caches such as this and watch as they get whittled down over the course of the winter.

o-pine cones up close

While I stood there admiring the work of the red squirrel who’d filled its larder presumably when the cones were green (and by the way, these cones are two years old, for it takes two years for them to mature atop the pine trees), I thought about the sap that coats them in white. Though the sap is drier now, does it get stuck to their feet. I know that when I come in from a walk through a pine forest, I have sap on my soles, and attached to that may be pine needles or dried leaves. Is it the same for a squirrel? If so, does it wear off like that on my boots? It must because I’ve never seen it on their feet.

o-pine on the cob 1

And what about as they work on their pine-on-the-cobs? Does the sap on the scales come off on  their lips or teeth–much like when we eat something sticky and gooey like peanut butter?

o-pine seeds

It’s a lot of work to get to the two tiny seeds tucked within each scale. They look to be about an inch long, but most of that is the wing (think maple samara). When the weather is warm and dry, pine cone scales open to release the seeds. The squirrel who’d hoarded the stash, had plucked the cones when they were still green and atop the tree–dropping them to the forest floor before they opened so he’d have plenty to eat. And then he had to gather all that he’d dropped into the piles. And now I can’t wait for the coming months–to watch the pile dwindle and middens grow; to see the tunnels he makes in the snow; and just maybe to sit quietly nearby and watch him in action. He was a bit peeved that I was poking about today and let me know with so many chirrs from a branch nearby.

o-porky den?

I finally moved on and saw an uprooted tree I’ve visited on previous occasions. Last year I followed porcupine tracks to this very spot and spied porky within. But when I checked on later occasions, it didn’t seem as if he’d returned. Today, I peeked in and saw water. Even though it looked like a grand home to me, I’m learning that porky knows best.

o-walking in a hemlock grove

At times, I moved quietly upon the duff under the hemlock trees. Frequently, I stopped to listen and look.

o-cinnamon fern leaves1

And then in an opening, I was again in the wet zone where the cinnamon ferns grew abundantly. In curled formation, their leaves added interest to the landscape and a bit of a crunch to my footsteps.

o-cinnamon fern 2

And piled as they were surrounding each plant, I thought back to the pinecone cache. This was food of a different kind, for those leaves will decompose over the winter and nourish the earth.

o-snowberry 1

Continuing on, I came to one of my favorite spots–where the creeping snowberry grew. I hunted under the tiny leaves for the little white berries, but found none. And I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen them, especially in this place, for I suppose that I miss all the action since snow melt always seems to call a halt to such visitations and then I never make my way deep into these woods all summer. I have to assume that the little brown things and birds had a feast. Although, as any teacher knows, one should never assume. Perhaps next year, I’ll make a point of checking on these plants.

o-birch tree in offing

My tramp was a meander, for I knew not what direction each footstep might take me, changing my mind constantly and trusting that if I turned left or right, I wasn’t missing something in the opposite direction. The sight of a beech tree, its leaves ever rattling, did mean that I’d have a chance to move to drier land for a few minutes.

o-equisetum

And then I stepped up onto a rock, where the growth at my feet surprised me for I didn’t realize that equisetum grew in this part of the woods. Always something new to learn.

o-tamarack branch 1

That wasn’t all. As I looked around, a branch with yellow needles by my foot caught my attention.

o-tamarack branch 2

This was the twig of a tamarack tree, with its needles growing in tufts atop little spurs. Had we met before, the tree and me? If so, I couldn’t remember it. Nor could I find it.

o-evergreen hallway

Before me was a wall of evergreens, in a classroom all of their own, for really, these are among my favorite places where learning opportunities present themselves. But, today’s lesson wasn’t about the hemlock, white pine, fir and spruce idiosyncrasies.

o-tamarack tree

And so I scanned the sky, and about twenty-thirty feet away, I found the tree. A tamarack or larch or hackmatack tree, aka Larix laricina, is our only deciduous conifer because unlike all the evergreens, it sheds its needles each fall.

o-moose scat

A few minutes later, I heard movement, and looked up to see . . . no, not the moose that made this deposit last winter, but two flashes of white as a couple of deer bounded off. I think that’s one of my favorite lessons of these woods, for the landscape changes repeatedly and thus offers a variety of habitats for the mammals of western Maine. This is the place where I get to learn the most about them and their behaviors.

o-deer rub 1

Sometimes I’m rewarded with spying the mammal from a distance, but other times I find evidence of its behavior, like this antler rub with frayed bark at top and bottom and smooth wood between.

o-varied habitat 1

I’ve watched the forest succession in these woods for twenty-five years,

o-varied habitat 6

and it’s been logged again more recently.

o-varied habitat 4

With each change, comes more change. And so the mammals move from one spot to another, but they’re still all here–somewhere.

o-varied habitat

I just need to listen and look.

o-turkey tail fungi

It’s not just the mammals and trees that I get to learn about. My studies include among other topics, fungi, of which I’m only a so-so student. But I do know that this is turkey tail, aka Trametes versicolor.

o-Fomitopsis cajanderi  (Rosy Polypore) 2

And then I happened upon a hemlock stump topped with a large, beautiful display outlined in a coffee brown and salmon pink. It took me some work to remember its name. I can tell you where else I’ve seen it for it grows upon a hemlock log at Holt Pond.

o-unknown mushroom 1

Before I forget again, it’s a rosy polypore, if memory serves me right. I only hope my fungi teachers weigh in on this one.

o-logging road 1

At long last, it was time to follow a logging road back to the snowmobile trail.

o-snowberry on sphagnum

Sometimes, I slip back into the woods before reaching the trail, but today I chose to follow it. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but more creeping snowberry atop sphagnum moss.

o-home sweet home

As I finally crossed the field toward home, I gave thanks for the classroom that is right outside our back door and for the lessons learned in this Sunday School. Now I just have to remember everything, which is why I record so much.

 

 

The Way of the Land at Long Meadow Brook Reserve

Last month the Greater Lovell Land Trust purchased a new property along Long Meadow Brook that further develops the wildlife corridor. A couple of weeks ago I first visited it with GLLT’s Executive Director Tom Henderson and a number of the land trust’s volunteer docents. As we left the property, Tom said to me, “I didn’t oversell this, did I, when I said this will become one of the docents’ favorite properties.” Indeed.

And so I couldn’t wait to get back there myself to spend a few hours exploring the almost one-hundred-acre reserve.

l-mullein-flower-2

Because the land was last logged by the previous owner in 2014, it’s in the early succession stage of regrowth.

l-mullein-flower-3

And so, it’s a place where those who like disturbed places tend to grow, such as the common mullein. What surprised me most was that I found a few still offering blooms.

l-mullein-cactus

Of course, it reminded me that I was in the great West–WESTern Maine, that is–with its occasional cacti-like form.

l-seeds-holidng-on

Scattered throughout are also the seedheads of white lettuce, waiting for release in lampshade-like formation.

l-orange-peel-fungi

Orange-peel fungi fruited prolifically in the gravel logging road.

l-future-parking-lot

That was all before I even reached the future parking lot, which had served as the log landing a few years ago. Already, sweet ferns and berry bushes have made themselves known.

l-sweet-fern-colors

The leaves of sweet fern, which is really a shrub rather than a fern, exhibited their version of autumn hues.

l-trail-marker

If you go, I encourage you to look for the blue ribbons that indicate where a future trail will be placed. It’s a loop trail that summer interns Hannah and Aidan laid out and leads to two focal features.

l-stonewall-double-to-single

The trail nears a neighboring property, which just happens to also be under conservation easement thanks to the foresight of its owners. I stepped off the blue flag trail and started to follow the wall for a bit–noticing that soon it changed from a double (garden or plowed land) wall to a single wall. A large pasture pine grew at the change-over point.

l-stonewall-barbed-wire-1

And where the wall switched to single formation, barbed wire indicated its former use a pasture boundary. And white pine scales indicated its current use–as a red squirrel’s dining room table.

l-forest-succession-2

After moving away from the wall, I noticed the mountains in the offing and ferns and young trees already filling in the empty spaces.

l-kearsarge

One of my favorite mountains to climb stood tall in the backdrop–Mount Kearsarge.

l-forest-succession-1

My bearings were off a bit, but I knew where the eastern boundary was as I moved across this opening.

l-pitch-pine-bark-1

Walking along the back edge, my tree passion was ignited yet again.

l-pitch-pine-1

Several pitch pines grow in this space. While the bark is similar to that of red pines, it’s platier (is that a word?). And the tufts of needles that grow along the trunk were a dead give-away.

l-pitch-pine-cone

l-pitchpine-needles

But . . . I always quiz myself and so I looked around. And right below the trees, pitch pine cones and the triple needle bundles common to this species.

l-wintergreen-berries

It was here that I discovered wintergreen growing by the base of a tree stump. What made me wonder was the amount of fruit on each plant. Yes, wintergreen grows prolifically in all of western Maine, but I can’t recall ever seeing so many little red globes dangling below the leaves.

l-marshy-1

From my half-circle around the opening, I wasn’t positive about my whereabouts and so decided to follow the land downhill because it looked like there may be an opening below. A few minutes later, I realized I was in a marshy spot where the cinnamon ferns grew. And the earth beneath my feet was rather spongy and damp.

l-beaver-lodge

I reached what I thought was the meadow I sought–only to realize that I was looking at a beaver lodge. I knew that beaver lodge, but from a different perspective–the neighbors’ property.

l-first-marsh

And then something else caught my attention.

l-marsh-tamaracks

Tamarack (aka larch) trees–our only deciduous conifers, which had turned a golden yellow as is their autumn habit.

l-tamarack-2

The spray of tamarack needles reminded me of witch hazel flowers, which also grow on this property. But soon, the former will drop, leaving only their barrel-like stems as a reminder of their presence.

l-maple-leaf-viburnum

I left that spot, retraced my steps and headed to the north on a cross-country bushwhack, where the mauve colored maple-leaf viburnum grew.

l-turkeys

I saw lots of mammal sign and even a few birds, including turkeys who are loving the fact that this is a mast year for acorns.

l-trail-to-meadow

At last I emerged onto the trail I remembered and headed downhill again.

l-meadow-brook-2

And then . . . I was rewarded for my efforts. Long Meadow Brook and the mountains beyond provided a WOW moment.

l-meadow-east

I looked to the east for a few minutes.

l-meadow-layers

And then turned west again, where the layers and colors spoke of diversity.

l-meadow-snags

Even the dead snags added beauty.

l-cat-n-nine-tails

Cat-in-nine tails added to the view and I noted others who like wet feet including steeplebush, meadowsweet and bulrushes growing along the old beaver dam. It’s also a place for a variety of evergreen species–hemlock, white pine, balsam fir, red spruce and tamaracks. Future teaching moments await.

l-hobble-2

My intention to stick to the trail was soon thwarted when I spied hobblebush.

l-hobble-bud1

Like all trees and shrubs, the future was already encased in a bud–in this case a bud we refer to as naked because it doesn’t have the waxy coating of most others. Methinks its furry presentation offers the same protection from winter’s cold.

l-back-of-hobblebush-leaf

And as I studied the back side of fallen leaves, I paid attention to the venation–reminiscent of the bud’s pattern.

l-hobble-leaves-2

In the glow of sunlight, I felt like I’d found the pot of gold.

l-meadowhawk-2

A short time later I reached the second opening that Hannah and Aidan’s trail encompasses. And what to my wondering eyes should appear–a meadowhawk dragonfly.

l-snow-on-balds-1

It provided a sharp contrast to snow on the Baldface Mountains.

l-secod-opening-2

It was at this six-acre opening that I poked around for a while longer. And watched a goshawk fly to a pine tree with something dangling from its talons. Did I take a photo? No, of course not. I was too mesmerized to focus my camera. But sometimes, the photo doesn’t matter. Being there in the moment does.

I’m thankful for such opportunities made possible by organizations such as the Greater Lovell Land Trust. I know that ultimately this property is for the mammals that travel through and I saw plenty of evidence that they use this place. But then again, I’m a mammal who also appreciates the land bridges created and opportunity to observe the connectivity. I spent the day getting to know the way of the land at Long Meadow Brook Reserve–and can’t wait to return.

 

 

 

 

Cloaked By The Morning Mist

You remember the nursery rhyme, “Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day, we want to go outside and play”? Well, it finally rained yesterday and today, and many of us have greeted it with open arms. And we certainly didn’t let it stop us from going out to play.

u-eaton-1

This morning, I joined a group from the Upper Saco Valley Land Trust for  a hike in South Eaton, New Hampshire. Had I not been racing for time, I would have stopped every twenty feet to snap a photo, but I did pause beside Crystal Lake.

u-road-1

After getting lost for a few minutes because I didn’t pay attention to the directions, I found the property. Eleven of us headed down Paul Hill Road, led by Jesse Wright of USVLT, and Nancy Ritger, senior naturalist with the AMC.

u-big-tooth-raindrops

We paused to examine a variety of offerings, including the flat stems of the quaking aspens. It was the raindrops on the big tooth aspen, however, that drew my focus. One of the things Nancy spoke about as she had everyone feel a flat aspen stem, is how that very stem aids in photosynthesis.

u-big-tooth

The leaves tremble or quake, giving each more time in the sunshine–individual leaves, no matter where they are attached to the tree, share in unshaded glory for split seconds as those above them flutter. And, in the case of aspens, both sides of the leaf work to make sugar and release oxygen.

u-beaver-lodge

We spent a long time beside a beaver pond and pondered various aspects of it. We could see the lodge and beaver sticks in the water–that made sense.

u-retainer-2

But why a significant wall on at least two sides?

u-cut-stone-in-water

And a split stone by the water’s edge? What else had happened here? Jesse told us that there are numerous foundations that we didn’t have time to locate today, so we knew that though it seemed as if we’d traveled to the middle of nowhere, this place was once somewhere.

u-moose-track

And to the local moose, it still is as evidenced by the prints we found in mud.

u-raindrop-lichens-2

Our attention also turned upward as we admired raindrops dangling from fruticose lichen (think fruit-like branching).

u-raindrops-on-pond

Suddenly, the rain increased so Jesse asked if anyone wanted to turn around and received an overwhelming vote to continue on.

u-larch-2

One of my favorite discoveries was a couple of larch trees. Larch or tamarack is our only deciduous conifer. Huh?

u-larch-1

Like deciduous trees, the larch needles turn yellow each autumn and fall to the ground. Another cool fact: needles grow on stout pegs that look like wooden barrels.

u-pileated-and-ants

We paused beside ash trees and tree stumps, and enjoyed the view of this pileated woodpecker excavation of carpenter ant tunnels–their favorite prey.

u-candy-lichen

In the log landing that did become our turn-around point, we noted the early succession growth of Eastern white pines and sweet fern (not a fern). But again, we looked to our feet for the best views.

u-candy-lichen-1

Candy lichen is a crustose (think–flattish or crust-like) lichen with green to bluish-green coloration.

u-candy-2

Its fruiting bodies, however, are candy-pinkish disks atop stalks, even reflected in the raindrops.

u-cemetery-entrance

Our journey back to parked vehicles passed quickly, indicating we’d not traveled all that far in two and a half hours. That’s normal when you take time to notice. Before departing, Jesse showed me a cemetery on the abutting property.

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Small, unmarked stones made me think of a Civil War-era cemetery in Sweden, Maine–perhaps a sudden illness of young children called for quick burials.

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One section was portioned off by split granite.

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The Currier plot. A side road we’d passed by was named for the family.

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The crustose lichens were intriguing on Rhoda Lodolska Currier’s stone. Rhoda died at age 26.

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Her sister, Octavia, lived to be 53.

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Most impressive was the age of Nancy Leavitt, her stone located just outside the Currier plot. Nancy died at age 90.

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As we walked out, Jesse spied a cup-shaped vireo nest built in the fork of a beaked hazelnut. Life continued to circle in these woods.

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And the autumn color undulated, mimicking the land. The sun tried to peak out for a few minutes when we arrived at our vehicles, but we were all appreciative of the rainy day wonders we’d found along the way.

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And back in Eaton, a quaint New England village located beside Madison and Conway, New Hampshire, and the Maine border–beauty cloaked by the mist.

Thanks to Jesse, Nancy and the Upper Saco Valley Land Trust for a fine morning spent wandering and wondering.