waterfalls

November 11, 2024 Mondate

~ lmachayes

It’s Veterans Day 2024 and My Guy and I chose a trail less traveled in the National Forest, giving thanks to our families, friends, and strangers who have served our country. It’s because of them that we can hike along trails and old logging roads, and even bushwhack; two of the many freedoms they’ve given us are the freedom to move about our country and the freedom to not live in fear (well, most of the time).

And so today found us crossing the state line and beginning our journey beside Langdon Brook in Chatham, New Hampshire. Like everywhere we look these days, the water level was low–a result of the current drought.

What isn’t low is the number of Geometer Moths, and I believe this to be The Bruce Spanworm, aka Winter Moth, that is currently on the move, emerging from the duff in October and November. I didn’t look for females, who are flightless, but saw plenty of males on the wing.

Our trek found us following steep old logging roads for a good portion and as we looked for Bear Claw Trees, I spotted this, a hornet nest.

One Bald-faced queen started building this nest in the spring by chewing wood and mixing it with saliva to create a paper-like material. I love that you can see the multiple layers of horizontal combs, under what’s left of the papery outer envelope.

Just last week on a hike closer to the Atlantic Ocean we saw another football-shaped structure, that one being much more intact than today’s example.

Take a second to admire those layers of paper.

What to our ever wondering eyes did eventually appear, the first of several Bear Claw Trees, but I promise to not share all of them with you.

What I will share is this one, a first for us. We often see “elbow” trees in the woods, but never before have we spotted a “collar-bone” tree, so dubbed by My Guy. I think it’s a great description of the morphed shape of this Red Maple, probably caused by logging equipment rubbing against it years ago.

And because we were in a place where one would expect to see wildlife, or at least the signs of such, we found Moose tracks.

Where there are tracks, there is bound to be scat, though the tracks were much fresher than this pile. We actually expected to find both because we’ve traveled this way several times before and know it can be a highway.

As much as we both wanted to see the real deal today, I was glad we didn’t spot a Moose since it’s rutting season. That said, there were plenty of mature trees to hide behind had one approached us.

A few miles up and down, and a short trail new to us that was so much easier than the usual bushwhack approach we’ve taken in the past, and we arrived at our destination: Mountain Pond. With the Doubleheads in the background.

Doesn’t it have the cold November look?

It was breezy, but really, not as cold as it should have been and we both wore sweatshirts and anorak windbreakers and were quite comfortable.

Once we reached the pond, we decide to follow the loop trail that encircles it, and stopped at the lean-to for lunch–just far enough from the open water to be out of the wind.

And then it was time to continue on, dealing with rocks and roots most of the way. A bit technical in the footing department especially at the outlet brook, but not difficult.

Soon after crossing the brook, we entered fairy land. Even MG recognized it for what it was.

We didn’t see anyone at home, but trusted they were sleeping as is their habit during the day. Even the boulder condominium looked like it housed a few.

It’s places like this that inspired my children’s book, The Giant’s Shower.

If you are interested in a copy, or two, or three, please contact me by leaving a message in the comments of this blog because I’m not sure the thegiantsshower email mentioned at the end of that blog post is currently working.

But I digress.

On the far side of the pond, we spied the Baldfaces, which gave us a better sense of our place in the world at that moment.

After completing the loop, we found the short trail back to the logging roads and practically ran down hill, despite the signs indicating we should do otherwise.

Not far from the start of our journey, I spotted a classic representation of Red Fox scat. The tapered end and twist are what give it away. And its size.

I actually expected to find a range of scat samples along the way, but that was not the case. And the only critters we saw were two Red Squirrels who dashed for cover as we approached.

But we did have an unusual sighting . . .

On the way back, about 100 feet below where I’d parked the truck, I spotted something else–Goldenrod in bloom on November 11th.

For the last few years, my nephew and I have been sharing photos of plants blooming when they should not be and he’ll receive this one in a text message soon.

The other amazing thing about this bloom . . . the Bumblebee seeking nourishment upon it. At first I thought the bee was either sleeping or dead, but it moved.

It does need to watch out, however, because just below it an Ambush Bug was busy dealing with another Bruce Spanworm moth–one down, a million more Winter Moths to go.

But again, I couldn’t believe that the Ambush Bug was still active either. We had a hard frost a few days ago. How did all of this happen?

November 11, 2024, a day to remember all those who served our country and a day for My Guy and I to take advantage of our freedoms and make some discoveries worth wondering about on this Veterans Day Mondate.

To Be Continued Sun/Mondate

~ lmachayes ~ 5 Comments

We drove forty minutes north at midday on Sunday with the intention of hiking a trail we’d enjoyed only once previously. Our memories of it had petered a bit, but we did look forward to bear trees and cascading falls.

And we were not disappointed. Within minutes of beginning the ascent, a look up at the gnarled top of a Beech gave me reason to scan the bark below and by the number of claw marks left behind it was obvious that this had been a well-used source of nuts in the past.

We could just imagine the bear scrambling up, sitting upon the branches and pulling them in to form a “nest,” or so it looks when they’ve been broken and folded inward, foraging for beech nuts, and then, once all were consumed, scrambling back down and on to the next tree.

Bears weren’t the only animals that have known this land and beside a stone wall we paused for a second. Our first ponder was whether it was a boundary fence or meant to keep animals in or out. Until . . . we spotted a piece of barbed wire growing out of a tree. No wait, barbed wire doesn’t grow out of trees. Trees grow around it. And our question was answered: the wire would have been added to keep the animals in the pasture.

That said, it had been a while since the wire was installed and even longer than a while since the stone wall had been built, for the trees had had time to grow and mature and incorporate the wire into their souls and while one still knew the flow of xylem and phloem, this other was a source of new life for insects and birds.

Our next pause was at picnic knoll where two tables and two Adirondack chair invite hikers to take a respite and enjoy the view. We tarried not given that we had a football game to get home to and pizza dough to prepare. Well, one of us had a football game to get home to and the other the dough.

Onward and upward we hiked, keeping an eye on ankle biters (saplings not cut to the ground that caused us to stumble repeatedly if we weren’t paying attention) at our feet, while searching for more bear trees, not an easy task during leaf season. But our best reward was the sight of this oft-climbed tree and the realization that the two behind it had also been visited.

We know there are more like those in this forest thus giving us a reason to return in late autumn and search off trail to see how many we can count. If memory serves us right, from the trail we once counted over twenty such bear trees.

Oh, there were other things to see along the way, like the Hobblebush’s ripening berries . . .

and Bald-faced Hornets gathering nectar.

But the second object of our intention was eventually reached for we’d found the cascades, beginning with one named for the family that farmed this area: Chapman.

It was a bit of a scramble but we were well rewarded for our efforts.

Again and again. After viewing this final flow, Library Cascades, we practically ran back down the trail. Just in time to catch the start of the game on the radio. Pizza was a wee bit late, but we didn’t mind.

The story should have ended there, but while hiking on Sunday we came up with a plan for Monday. So . . . back into the truck for that forty-minute drive we did go. This time, in the same forest, we hiked up an esker, which I saw as the stick of a lollipop.

At a junction, we chose the Red Pine Trail, a tree with bark so rich in color and design, it creates an art gallery in the forest.

Along the way, we paused at openings to enjoy the views, but . . .

a ridge off-trail, and really off-property (Shhhh, don’t tell. The boundary was marked but not posted.) invited us and we couldn’t refuse. What view might there be that we would miss if we didn’t accept the summons?

We were rewarded with the sight of the surrounding mountains showing off their summits in crisp contrast to the sky above.

I’m pretty sure the invitation included lunch and so we sat down and dined.

Our off-trail pursuit offered one final gift as we headed back to the trail–galls created by a wasp upon a Northern Red Oak twig.

A few steps later and we startled a Garter Snake who flicked its tongue to get a better scent of us before deciding we weren’t worth the effort and slithering away.

Again, there was water to cross, but it wasn’t nearly as impressive as the cascades of Sunday.

And some porcupine work to acknowledge, though we had hoped to see a den, but determined it was probably in the ledges below.

One final view at the land beyond and then we completed the loop that formed the sucker at the top of the lollipop stick and began our descent. Again, this should have been the end of the story. But . . .

There was plenty of daylight left and this day’s football game wasn’t until much later and so we sought a third trail in the same forest. The natural community differed, which made us grateful because each trail had its own unique flavor, this one including Striped Maple dripping with seeds of the future.

Once again, we climbed toward the view.

One sight that caught our attention for it was the only one of its kind that we saw along any of the trails was a Lady’s Slipper, and we gave thanks that it had been pollinated for perhaps its future will spill forth in multitudes we can enjoy next spring.

A flock of nuthatches, woodpeckers, and chickadees entertained us occasionally, but it was the silent Hermit Thrush who paused that caused us to do the same.

At last we reached the end and stood for a moment to take in the range beyond, before turning around and retracing our steps for this last trail wasn’t a loop.

Nailed to a tree, was this sign: To Be Continued. As so it was on this Sundate/Mondate. We trust we’ll return to see where the trail may lead next.