Grab bag

Is there a statute of limitations on stuff your kids friends have left at your house?

Would you say that if a friend of a daughter left a bag almost six years ago then the bag is up for grabs? Me too. So after six years of lusting for this bag as it hung on a peg in my hallway, I threw caution, patience and good manners to the wind and claimed it as my nature bag. It has pockets for guide books and binoculars and a big pouch for the camera and room for a water bottle on the side--I am OUTFITTED.

So with my new bag, I went off into the woods to see what I could see.

I found some British Soldier Lichen along the path and something that I believe is a lichen but that I have not been able to identify. Ideas welcome.

My mom felt up to walking with me and we made it down to the river. We found a few trees that looked like the beavers had recently been at work but nothing like the activity that we saw last fall and they have not repaired the dam. Their two lodges are still in the river, but do not have any noticeable fresh improvements. So, I don't know what to think about the beavers--the ice will be in soon but I'll keep checking over the next few weeks.

Beeing Productive

The bees are busy and happy now that the weather has turned to sunshine. Washington hive is ready for me to add the honey super. The honey super is the layer that will contain the honey for harvest.

Ever since the rain stopped on Thursday, the bees have been working hard--flying out and coming back to the hive with their little pollen baskets full. The worker bees have a short lifespan so some of these workers have probably never gathered pollen before these last few days.

When the bees die, they fall down to the bottom of the hive and are swept out by the workers and their little bee bodies are carried off. One morning during the height of our rainy spell, my mother called me, "Oh Beth, something terrible has happened--all of your bees are dead." She had noticed that there were no bees flying in or out of the hive and then noticed on the little lip of the hive (what we call the porch) there were piles of bee carcasses. I finished up my office work and then headed over to investigate worried that both my hives had fallen victim to too little sunshine. My dad and I lit the smoker and opened Washington hive. It was full of busy bees building comb and feeding larvae and the situation was the same in Madison hive. We surmised that the weather had just been too nasty for the bees on funeral patrol to do their job. A brief appearance of the sun and the porch was all cleaned up.

Beavers and bees--I guess I am partial to creatures with a work ethic and a commitment to neatness.

Summer Solstice Snapper

Yesterday Charlie was sitting at the dining room table writing a paper for a class he's taking and he looked up and noticed a big piece of something in the road. As he watched, the big piece of something made its way across the road and into the yard of the abandoned house next door.

He and the cats went out to check it out and discovered a large common snapping turtle looking for someplace to lay her eggs. There are a lot of sandy spots closer to the river than our yard so it was surprising to see a turtle prowling around. It's been a very, very rainy Spring/Summer and it could be that all of the lower spots close to the river were too wet. Who knows, but in 100 days, I'll be watching for a crop of baby snapping turtles trying to find their way to the river.

I had been off visiting my parents during the turtle invasion and when I got home Charlie had the kitties safely inside and was outside watching it. He dubbed it the summer solstice snapper.

From what I have read about snapping turtles, the mother will travel great distances from her muddy bottom home to find the right spot to lay her eggs. Once she finds the right spot, she will moisten the ground with her urine, dig the hole with her powerful hind legs, lay her eggs and then smooth the nest out by sliding over it with her smooth underside (plastron). Apparently, this nesting time is dangerous for everyone involved. Racoons and foxes often dig up the nests and eat the eggs and mother turtles traveling from their safe water homes must cross roads exposing themselves to predators and cars and cajun cooks looking for the title ingredient in turtle soup.

I was able to watch the turtle for a little while as she made her way to wherever she was going. She had a very long tail that was thick at the base (apparently the thick part of the tail is the tastiest meat for turtle soup afficionados). When she would stop and stretch out her neck it was very long. She could draw both the thick part of her tail and her head deep inside her shell.

Snapping turtles mothers (like queen honeybees) can hold the sperm inside of them for more than one season, releasing it when necessary to fertilize her eggs. A few weeks ago, Seabrooke wrote a very interesting piece about snapping turtle eggs here.

So, one hundred days takes us to late September--not very much time for the little turtles to make it to the river and burrow into the mud before the winter.

On the Big Rock Mountain

On some of the highest mountains in northern New England and in New York's Adirondacks the latitude and the altitude combine to provide an environment for alpine plants that flower in June.

Each June since moving here ten years ago, I have wanted to make my way to the Alpine Garden on the upper slopes of Mt. Washington and each June for the last ten years other things took priority.

This year, the Maine chapter of the Appalachian Mountain Club offered a guided hike on the second Saturday in June for the first ten people to sign up--I signed up and on a leap of faith snagged a place for my mother on the hike, too. My mom is 75 and has had various physical ailments over the last few years but she loves flowers and when we were all younger she taught me to love the mountains--so with six weeks until the hike and with a promise from the group leader that it would be a slow and gentle meander through the garden I asked my mom if she would like to go. She jumped at the chance and has spent the last six weeks walking and getting into shape. At the last minute, Molly was able to join us, too, so yesterday we drove up the Mt. Washington auto road to a point just below the summit, parked our car and navigated a short steep section leading to the alpine garden.

We saw Diapensia everywhere. They grow in mats that spread very slowly. A misplaced footstep can wipe out 20 years worth of growth. The pathway is carefully marked with cairns and all along the slopes the ground is littered with pincushion mats of little while flowers.

When we weren't bending our necks to look at the tiny flowers on the ground, we gazed out over the beautiful mountains.

My mom at 75, my daughter at 20 and me turning 50 this year; the rare alpine plants and the magnificent beauty. What a day.

I'm lichen it

Today I spent the first day of the rest of my life walking through the woods with my young cousin.

He is visiting from Texas and staying with my parents so we went walking through their woods to get the lay of the land.

While walking through an area that I don't hike over very often, we noticed some red color under foot in an area of where the path was soft with decaying wood.

The red is the spore of a lichen called British Soldier Lichen (Cladonia cristatella).

Checking in on the Bees

Because it probably is not that much fun to be hard at work and have a Giant come and remove your work station, examine everything with clumsy Giant hands, coo at you in a Giant babytalk voice and then replace your workstation nearly crushing some of your co-workers, I try not to check on my hives too frequently. Saturdays are my days to check in with them just to satisfy my curiosity--they have no need for my scrutiny.

In the last month, the hive that I call Washington has built comb in 8 of its frames, the newly-built comb is now filled with eggs, larvae, honey and pollen. The hive that I call Madison is slightly more productive, it has one entire super (10 frames) heavy with bee produce and the bees have started working on the second super. The supers are piled one atop another so the bees work their way up.

The bees in the hive at mid-day are probably the younger bees, newly emerged themselves they become the nurse bees to the eggs and the larvae--they care for the brood around the clock for roughly the first two weeks of their adult life. During this period the nurse bees do not display any circadian rhythm. An interesting article on this subject appeared in the New York Times last week. At about two weeks of age, the bees become foragers and at that time their circadian rhythm kicks into gear and they learn to make their flights for nectar at the time when the flower is releasing it in highest quantities. The foraging is hard work and the worker bees usually die by the time they are four weeks old, but by then the brood they had been tending as nurse bees are ready to take over their jobs.

I stopped feeding them sugar water last week as there are violets and dandelions blooming in the grass and forsythia, wild strawberries and azaleas showing color in the flower beds. Within a week or two my mother's yard will be a feasting bonanza for the bees as the lilac, apples and grapes blossom.

Bald Mountain, Oquossoc

Well, with the bees happily building their comb and the queen freed from her box, we decided to drive over the mountain to Rangely, Maine.

We drove up over the Height of Land where the Appalachian Trail crosses Route 17. Lake Mooselookmeguntic was as startlingly beautiful as ever. The ice was starting to go out from the edges, but it will be awhile before the last of it is gone.

One of at least three Bald Mountains in the state of Maine is located near Rangely in the town of Oquossoc. The Maine Mountain Guide listed the trail as 1 mile to the 2443 foot summit. We were surprised to find the trailhead parking lot still full of snow but decided to park on the road and try the trail anyway. The snow was firm and the air was warm, so we headed up the mountain.

There were parts where the trail was kind of icy and, unprepared as we were for the conditions, I was forced to use my Poland Springs water bottle for an ice axe. Not a recommended use.

At the top of the mountain, there was a fire tower. A little known fact is that I am scared of heights that God didn't make but I'm glad that Charlie encouraged me up the tower--the view was amazing.

It felt so good to be up a mountain and to exert some energy in the fresh air. It was so quiet at the top--at other times of the year the noise of snowmobiles or jetskis would disturb the peace but yesterday in between those seasons, we were the only ones in the world.

Eagle Webcam

There are a lot of other things that I COULD be doing.

Redpolls

A few days ago, I asked Archie and Brent to put a new feeder up on a pulley between the porch and the big maple tree by the driveway. The other bird feeders are over by my office and I can't see them from the house and I wanted to be able to drink my morning coffee, look out the window and see birds. So after seeing a similar arrangement at Charlie's brother's house, the boys and I went to the hardware store and procured the necessary supplies.

That first night, I dreamed about hordes of colorful birds flocking to my yard--I woke up and laughed about my silly dream--and this morning it came true!

This morning as we drank our coffee and checked e-mail, we were treated to 50 or more common redpolls and goldfinches. It was magical and I will never forget this day.

Cardinals in the Snow

The Bluejays spent most of the day at the feeders, but just before dusk, Mr. Cardinal arrived. He ate and looked around and ate some more then flew off and brought back Mrs. Cardinal. What a cute couple--look how he dotes on her.

As the rest of the country digs out and recovers from the storm, we are in the thick of it. At this point, we probably have close to a foot and it is supposed to continue until midnight. Bee class was canceled.

I am planning a hike into Carter Notch with a friend on Saturday. It should be beautiful but I hope some hearty souls get in there to pack out Nineteen Mile Brook Trail before we head in. In fact, if I could have my preference it would be a group of very heavy people on snowshoes or perhaps even a large group of boyscouts. The harder the snow is packed down, the easier for those that follow.

Wolves

,

Who isn't chillingly fascinated by the idea of wolves?

I grew up listening to Peter and the Wolf and loving the oboe even though it reminded me of the foolish duck. The Three Little Pigs caught less of my sympathy--either because they were pigs or because they were lazy. Certainly, as a little girl who loved her grandmother, Little Red Riding Hood upset me greatly and I learned to be honest and truthful from repeated tellings of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Through all of the stories, though, it seemed that the wolf only took advantage of people (or animals) who let down their guard and were foolish (the duck), lazy (the pigs), gullible (Red Riding Hood) or drama queens (The Boy), I was not any of those things so perhaps wolves were worth another look.

As I grew up, I discovered that the stereotype of wolves, as with most of the other fears from my childhood, did not exactly measure up to their reality, but it was many years before I actually saw one in the wild. In the summer of 2004, Archie, Molly and I went to Yellowstone and in the northeast corner of the park saw two wolves enjoying an elk carcass and drinking from a river. They ate, they lazed in the sun, they played--I could have watched them forever.

Wolves have been re-introduced to several locations in the United States over the past twenty years. They now roam in areas of Wyoming, Idaho, Minnesota and North Carolina. The closest area of wolf habitation to Northern New England is in Algonquin Park Ontario.

Currently, I am reading The Return of the Wolf: Reflections on the Future of Wolves in the Northeast. It is a very interesting collection of essays on the biological and cultural realities of re-introducing wolves into Northern New England and Northern New York State.

What do some of you think of wolves? I know that readers of this blog are from all of the states where wolves have been re-introduced as well as from the Ontario where they have thrived in Algonquin Park and I would be very interested to hear what sort of experiences and ancedotes you can relate from their presence in your area.

Working on a Snowy Sunday

My primary bird feeding station is just outside of my office window. I was feeling a little sorry for myself having to work all weekend after finishing a long trial week but the Blue Jays came out in the snowstorm to keep me company.

What a long week it was, this first week of January, and did I make my goal to snow shoe or ski at least twice this week? Sadly, no, but hopes and resolutions spring eternal--perhaps next week.

The ice is coming in, Beaver Family

The ice is starting to close in the beaver's pond and they seem to be ready for it. Their two lodges look sturdy and there are enough freshly cut tree trunks in the vicinity to indicate that they have stored plenty of food for the winter.

Their dam is finished and the ice should make it stronger. The dam has raised the water level about three feet.


If I could be any animal for 24 hours, I would want to be a beaver. Since I probably won't get my wish I will have to be satisfied with keeping an eye on them all winter. It will be fun to snowshoe out to their lodge in a month or so when the ice is thick.

The ice is already making some beautiful formations both in the dam and in the puddles along the path.

More on the Beavers

As the days get shorter and the nights get colder, the beavers are picking up the pace and working hard to build their pond before the ice closes the waterways.

Yesterday my mom and I headed down to the river at the back boundary of their property to see how things were coming along.

The little furry engineers have built a big dam which caused flooding upstream and created a really nice pond. I hope that the pond will be permanent and give us a nice swimming hole to enjoy next summer. The dam still has a lot of rushing water so I imagine the beavers instinct to stop the sound of the rushing water has them cutting and hauling and patching all night long.

We found two beaver lodges in the pond. One was well camouflaged, close to the dam and hard to photograph; the other was far upstream and built into a bank right at the end of the first beaver trail that I found a month ago. That made sense to me because the trail led to a large grove of young popple trees which the beavers must be hauling and storing for their winter food supply.

I just can't get enough of this beaver activity and am so happy to have them in an observable location. At night, I sometimes wake up and wonder what they are doing and try to imagine their busy little night-time world.

The Grand Tetons? Not quite.

Maine's third highest peak is Sugarloaf Mountain in Carabasset Valley--a playground for the rich and famous and an incubator for many an Olympic skiier.

There are at least two other Sugarloaf Mountains in the state. One is in Rangely and one (or maybe two) are in Dixfield. A quick look reveals why they are affectionately referred to locally as The Boobies.

I judge the weather each morning on whether or not I can see them as I make our coffee. Most mornings they are there--perky as can be--it takes a lot of precipitation to cover those girls up.

Today we decided to take a walk up to Bull Rock. Bull Rock nestles like an ugly tatoo on the front of the right boobie. It is a sheer rock ledge about halfway up the mountain and is spraypainted each June by the high school seniors in a late-night ritual to which we adults turn our heads. But, spraypaint aside, the ledge offers a beautiful view of our little town.

We packed a picnic backpack and walked up Lancaster Street past MH's house where Molly and Sara went to thousands of sleepovers, through the woods and up a hill, through the front yard of a girl who drove Archie's car into a ditch during homecoming last year, up the driveway of one of Charlie's ski team parents and then back into the woods on a little trail to the Ledge.
From Bull Rock, we could see forever. The last layer of mountains in this picture are Mts. Washington, Monroe and Adams, an hour to the west in New Hampshire.

I love nothing more than a sunny day on a rock. The rock holds heat and from many years of experience I know exactly how to mold my body into any rock until it is as comfortable as a feather bed. Usually Charlie rouses me before I'm through with my rock nap, but today he let me be while he snapped pictures of the countryside from our perch.

In silent reflection, we enjoyed our picnic lunch and sparkling grape juice left over from the wedding.

We walked home the long way through the cross country trails behind the high school and down the hill the runners always referred to as Psycho.

Another perfect day.

Franconia Fall

This has to be the most beautiful fall foliage weekend ever. With a long weekend and gas prices hovering closer to $3 than $4 per gallon, New Englanders ventured away from the bad news on CNBC to see what beauty was unfurling in the woods.

We spent the last few days in Franconia Notch re-visiting tourist attractions that Brother and I had not seen in 40 years and straying into the streams and the woods to share with Luz Maria and Ignatio the parts of the United States that we are most proud of.

When Brother and I were children, we would spend every long weekend camping in Franconia Notch and both of us have very happy memories of the area. It felt good to re-live the memories with him. My memory is beyond terrible and just full of vague recollections; his memory is like flypaper full of distinct multi-sensory experiences, so while I drove and guided, he filled in the gaps of my childhood, story by story.

We jumped on rocks in the Pemigewasset and took the tram up Cannon Mountain. We explored the Flume and the Basin and listened to the nickelodean at Clark's Trading Post.

Sleep was welcome last night and I can't imagine that any of us made it to the 11th inning of the Red Sox/Tampa Bay game.

Those Intrepid Beavers

Last weekend we had more than eight inches of rain fall on Maine due to a nor'easter on Friday and Saturday and then the effects of Hurricane Kyle on Sunday and Monday. I was worried about the beavers and when the storm let up, my mom checked on them. The fledgling building project that I had discovered the week before was completely washed away but the hard-working, resilient little rodents had moved their operation farther downstream to the southeast corner of my parents' property.

Yesterday, Charlie and I were over helping Dad clear up some trees. After the wood was put into our vehicle and Charlie headed home to stack it, Dad and I headed down to the river to check out the beavers. From the top of the hill where their woods road ends, we could see the dam and the evidence of clear cutting and dragging. Beavers build dams to make the water near their lodge deep enough that the water will stay open under the ice. I could see their lodge farther upstream but could not get a good picture of it without getting wet.

Farther downstream, in a boggy area there is another dam under construction. This all bears more exploration.

Beaver fun fact: Their teeth protrude through a hole in their lips so that their lips can close behind their teeth keeping tree debris from getting into their mouth when chopping and allowing them to swim with a tree clutched in their teeth.