Early Morning Tracks

I was the first person in to work yesterday morning, and after two days of being closed, the only tracks on the driveway were those left by animals passing in the night. What a treat to see such beautiful clear footprints in the frozen slush.

Fox and raccoon - a nice combination.

I'm always delighted to see raccoon tracks. Around here, where the winters can be brutally cold at times, raccoons only come out when the weather turns mild. When we have a warm night (warm, of course, being a relative term) we pretty much know that the raccoons will be out and about.



Raccoon tracks are always so easy to identify: they look like tiny human hand prints. Five toes, front and back. And when they walk, they place a hind foot next to a front foot, leaving a perfect impression of each, side-by-side.

This raccoon was headed toward the building, so I followed its tracks to see where it went. I suspected it was headed to the back deck and the suet (we bring the birdfeeders in at night, but the suet stays out). I was surprised to find the suet still in tact. It seems the raccoon had other things on its mind, for it made a beeline past the building and down the hill.

This is about the time of year raccoon mate, so we speculated that perhaps this was a male going in search of a female. Whatever its mission, it was nice to see its tracks.

Ancient Trees and Otter Antics

On Sunday last I joined a group of curious nature folks for an "Ancient Trees" hike with Vince Walsh of Kawing Crow Awareness Center in Greenfield, NY. I had blue sky and sunshine when I left Newcomb, but by the time I got down from the mountains, the sky had closed in and heavy wet snow was falling.

The first thing I noticed at Kawing Crow was this phoebe nest perched on the wing of Vince's emblem. It was a good sign for treasures to come.


After a short introduction, we donned our snowshoes and headed down the trail. Literally. The first part is about a 45' drop. Fortunately, Vince has installed ropes along the incline to facilitate our descent (and later the climb back up, which was actually a lot of fun).

Once we all made it down the hill, we forged out across the boardwalk Vince built across his swamp. What a great asset a boardwalk is to a wetland.

The wetland was so still.

Our first track of the day was this otter slide, leading towards the north end of Vince's swamp.

Here's the footprint inside the slide. I was able to count five toes and could almost picture webbing between the toes. This otter was to take up a good deal of our time as the day progressed. We tracked it until we found where it disappeared under the ice at a third swamp about three hours hence.

To me, this tree was one of the most interesting finds of the day. According to Vince, this damage was caused by the Sirex woodwasp, an invasive species that is wreaking havoc on our native pines, firs and spruces. [Update: I did a little research on Sirex noctilio (including an email exchange with two Sirex entomologists), and what I discovered tells me that this is not Sirex damage. The Sirex woodwasp primarily attacks pine trees, although spruces and firs are sometimes targets as well. This is a maple. Hardwoods are not on the menu. I will follow up some time in the future with a post about this invasive wasp, what to look for, and what our prognosis is with regards to its arrival. Based on other information Vince shared with our group about this patch of forest, I'd be willing to hazard a guess that this tree initially suffered from some sort of logging trauma (skidder damage, perhaps?), which provided the opening insects and fungi (et al) needed to begin their own invasions of this host tree.]

The otter reappeared at this stream. You can see where it came up the stream bed, through the slush, then out along the shore.

As we made our way through the woods, we passed this wigwam that Vince made with some kids last summer. Wigwams are the type of house the native people in the northeast used. Teepees were strictly a plains Indian dwelling.

Here's a close up of the wigwam. These houses are made by first creating a framework of bent saplings. Then the outside is covered with slabs of bark. Elm is the best bark for this outer layer, but these days not readily available.

The second swamp we encountered was dotted with great blue heron nests. Vince said he's counted upwards of 40 nests in this swamp. Such nesting collectives are referred to as rookeries.

It was a perfect day for snowfleas! From the moment we started our trek, snowfleas kept us company. In the woods, out in the swamps, the "fleas" were everywhere! As noted in previous posts, snowfleas are very primitive creatures, and are technically springtails, not fleas. They are quite tiny and look like pepperflakes sprinkled on top of the snow. I was able to capture these two with my macro lens.

We made our way carefully across the snowy top of a beaver dam. We had to watch our step, for the snow hid many a hole where the unwary snowshoer could (and did) fall through. Fortunately, it was usually just one foot that went down, not the whole snowshoer.

There were lots of mink tracks to either side of the beaver dam. Here we have a pair of slides, one next to the other. Was it the same animal, or were there two?

Here you can see the mink's feet, side-by-side, in the bottom of its slide.

These closely spaced tracks led away from the beaver dam and towards the shore. They didn't look like any tracks we'd seen before, so we wondered whose they were.

The tracks came down to another bit of open water, went in and came back out. But in the shallow water, there was another clue to the identity of this animal.

Vince scooped up something on a stick and passed it around for us to sniff. Hm...smelled kinda fishy to me. It was otter scat.

In case you are dying to know what otter scat looks like, here it is. It is often a rather formless mess, thanks to the fishy diet these animals consume.

We sort of followed the otter from the swamp, and re-encountered it as is slid down this stream bed. It really seemed to be enjoying itself here - lots of sliding with only the occasional push of the feet.

After we crossed this little stream, we found a small pool that was still open. The otter(s) found it, too. Note all the slides in and out. It was shortly after finding this that we crossed the stream again and I fell through. Well, one foot went through the ice and slush. Three cheers for wool and Gor-tex, for my foot did not get cold until the drive home. A bit later on, when we were looking at where the otter's tracks ended (it dove beneath the ice in a third swamp), I kept thinking I smelled something fishy...really close by. I looked at my hand, the one that went down when I crashed through, and noticed it had a brownish tinge. I sniffed. Fish. I must've placed it in some otter scat while struggling to extract myself from the stream. Ick.

It was after 3:00 when we reached our primary destination: the swamp with the Ancient Trees. These trees are black tupelos, or black gum (Nyssa sylvatica). Just how old is ancient? Well, some of these trees have been cored, and they range from 500 to 800 years old. That would be dating back to the 1500s, or even the 1200s. Long before Europeans set a toe on this continent.

Note the hole near the base of this tree.

One of my favorite tree books, and one that I use as a primary source for any tree research, is Donald Culross Peattie's A Natural History of Trees, written in 1950. Here's are a couple passages from his entry about tupelos:

“When to the amusement of Creole society, the tall and emaciated General Andrew Jackson leaped beside the short and immensely fat Mrs. Jackson, at a ball held after the battle of New Orleans, it was to the jig tune of “Possum up a Gum Tree.” The ‘possum, we may suppose, goes up the Gum tree in fall to get the fruit – or perhaps is merely treed there by hounds – but that does not make it clear why this species is called a Gum. Nowhere on the American continent has anyone ever expressed from this dry and disobliging vegetable one fluid ounce of any sort of gum. Yet lumbermen and foresters insist on the name.”

“To the Black Gum, as a timber tree, the pioneers said anathema with every abhorrence. For its fibers are not only interbraided but cross-woven. It is as easy to split across as lengthwise – that is, it can’t be done at all, even with wedge and sledge.”

The latter explains why these trees were allowed to grow to such a ripe old age: they are near impossible to cut. Therefore, they have little value to the lumberman.

Here's a peek inside the hollow opening near the base of the tree. Most tupelos are hollow, at least at the base. The trees, however, are still alive. This is because the living tissue of trees is the part that runs just below the bark, where the phloem and xylem transport food, water and nutrients up and down the tree. The bulk of the tree's trunk is dead wood, whose primarily purpose is to provide structural support to the branches up above.

Here is a shot looking straight up from inside the hollow. The tree is hollow for about six feet up.

Vince reached into the hollow and pulled out a handful of fine brown powder. This was decomposed porcupine poop. A few pellets still remained, but it has been a while since porkies used this particular den.

Digging through the snow at the base of the tree, Vince uncovered the remains of a porcupine scat pile. This is very typical outside porcupine dens.

Look at just how chunky that bark is! These are enormous plates, with crevices in between almost a finger-length deep.

Another characteristic of these ancient trees is that on one side, the heavy craggy bark is practically smooth. No one seems to know why this is. A couple of us speculated if it was because of animals travelling up and down this side of the tree, but it is only the oldest part of the tree (the base) that is "worn down." It remains a mystery.

As seen from a distance, the tupelos look like perfect Halloween trees - gnarly, twisted, and full of character. Apparently, these trees die from the top down, so many have abbreviated trunks with large branches reaching beyond the terminal end.

The fruits of the tupelo are called drupes. A drupe is "a more-or-less fleshy fruits with one compartment and one or more seeds" (Longman's Dictionary of Environmental Science). Examples are cherries, plums and other fruits that are considered "stone" fruits. A few tupelo fruits still clung to the branches.

I liked the burl on the side of this tupelo: it was basically a donut. I, unfortunately, am vertically challenged enough that you can only juuuust see the hole in the middle (it looks like a small layer of snow).

This old tupelo has seen better days. For some reason, the local beavers girdled the tree, and even gnawed the hard wood beneath. I wonder if tupelo dulls beaver teeth with its toughness? There was much discussion among the group about why beavers girdle the tupelos. Jackie sees this all along the Hudson where "her" tupelos are growing. Are the beavers just trying to open up the canopy? If so, why single out the tupelos? Vince suggested that somehow the beavers know that tupelos suck up a lot of water with their roots, so perhaps by girdling (and killing) the trees they are attempting to prevent water drawdown within their ponds.

This lovely orange jelly fungus was growing on the side of one of the tupelos. I love orange jellies, for they add a dash of color to the landscape.

We came across this really nifty witch's broom on a highbush blueberry. None of us had ever seen brooming on a blueberry, so this was a neat discovery. What causes the brooming? On some plants it is insects, on others bacteria or fungi. On blueberries? I have no idea...maybe someone out there has studied it and has an answer.

At the end of the day the sky cleared and the sun shone brightly. Heading back across the beaver dam, the swamp took on a different look than it had when all overcast. An hour or so later, as I pulled out the driveway and started the long drive home, the weather had changed once more, and rain started to sprinkle on the windshield. It was a long day, but well worth the adventure.

Frigid Fridays

Frigid Friday - the Weekend Weather Report

for 26 Feb - 1 March 2010

Friday, 26 Feb: 50% chance of snow showers; high near 38*F, low near 26*F. East wind 16-22 mph with gusts to 36 mph. Total daytime snow accumulation 1-2".

Saturday, 27 Feb: 60% chance of snow showers; high near 34*F, low near 23*F. East wind 6-8 mph. New snow accumulation 1-3".

Sunday, 28 Feb: 50% chance of snow showers; high near 34*F, low near 21*F. North wind 5-7 mph.

Monday, 1 March: 30% chance of snow showers before 1 PM. High near 34*F, low near 15*F.

*** Weather is subject to change without notice ***

Current Conditions: We currently have 15-16" of snow. The snow is of the heavy, wet variety. Snowshoeing will be challenging and skiing will likely not be great for the first folks breaking trail. Those who follow will probably have an easier time of it.

After the Storm and Iggles

All through the dimly lit day yesterday, heavy flakes of snow plummeted to the ground. The temperature remained just above freezing, and the water content of the flakes was high. They seemed to melt upon contact with the ground, leaving little in the way of accumulation.

By 5:00 PM the precipitation had turned to rain. When I got home, I grabbed the shovel and pushed the sloppity slop and gloppity glop from the driveway and the road directly in front of it. It was an exercise in shovelling water.

Knowing that the rain was likely to continue, I bit the bullet: the roof would have to be raked. So I assembled the long handle of the roof rake and attacked the back of the house first. Fortunately, the heavy and sodden condition of the snow actually made it easy to remove from the roof, as slab after slab slid down to the ground. In record time the back was done and I moved to the front. This morning I was quite glad I had done it.


All through the night it rained, rounding the harsh angles of the plowed up snowbanks. By morning, the wind was in full swing, blowing the heavy grey clouds about and letting the sun peek through.

The town crew was out for a good portion of the night, making sure the roads didn't freeze and pushing back the snowbanks, each load no doubt weighing upwards of a ton. This morning found things very wet and only slightly frozen. Icy slush would soon melt again, but for now it was firm enough not to leave us soaked from our morning walk.

While coming down the highway, Toby suddenly went on alert. He pulled to the end of the leash and all his fur was on end. Surely something dangerous was just ahead!

It moved across the road in a hesitant tumble. Is it dangerous? Maybe it would provide a good chase!

How deflated he became when it turned out to be just a branch from a tree!

The excitement didn't end there, however. As I headed in to work, I noticed an enormous bird flapping ponderously in circles just north of the road. I pulled over to watch. Was it an eagle? I couldn't quite see any white on the head or tail, and by the time I finally got out the camera to take pictures, it had decided to exit stage left. If you can zoom in, however, you will see the raptor shape to the beak. I think it was an immature bald eagle.

Even higher, though, another bird soared. Its mission seemed much more leisurely; surely it was simply enjoying a ride on the wind.

This time, however, the white head and tail were visible, even at a great distance.

Two log trucks and several passenger vehicles passed me as I stood behind the driver's side door of my car, staring at the sky, camera in hand. I wonder what all those people were thinking as they sped by to various jobs and errands. No doubt wondering what the crazy woman was doing on the side of the road.

News of Our Burial is Greatly Exaggerated

Things were a lot whiter this morning when all the trees

were totally blanketed with snow.

I don't know what the news folks are telling the rest of the world out there, but Newcomb is not buried under the preciptation of the current winter storm.

I woke this morning to about 5.5" of new snow. Yes, I had to shovel, if only to get the snowbank at the end of the driveway out of the way. The snow was of the heavy/wet variety, but not too bad.

It has been snowing/sleeting off and on during the day, but accumulation has been slight. The weather report is claiming 3-7 new inches during the day, but maybe most of that is still to come, because as of 3:23 PM (as I write this), we have had less than an inch of new stuff.

Total at the snowstick: 17-18".

When I get home, I should build a snowman. Maybe I'll build a snowdog to keep Toby company when he goes out to pee.

Heat Wave

Monday (yesterday) was a glorious day. Even Newcomb hit the mid-40s temperature-wise. Unfortunately, I was out-of-town most of the day, either on the road or sitting at the eye doctor's. But, it was still light out when I got home, so I grabbed the camera and decided to see what was photographable in the yard.

Toby would've rather played. As you can see, he doesn't think too highly of photography:


First stop was the bird feeders. Yes, at last "someone" has finally decided to sample from the new feeder.

Actually, I've been watching the blue jays work away at this feeder for a couple weeks now. They don't use the perches, though -I suspect the perches are too small. Instead they cling to the branches of the tree and take stabs at the Bark Butter.

My yard beaver has been acting as a solar sink, absorbing the heat from the sun and melting the snow at its base. I wonder if the ants stay inside the beaver all winter, or if they go underground before the ground freezes. Hm....

Now, if one didn't know better, one might just think that this is a close-up of a liverwort. In fact, it is a close-up of a golden cedar. This tree is still a small shrub and has a place of honor in one of my flower beds. I have no idea how big it will eventually get, but at the rate it has been growing, I don't think I have to worry about it casting too big a shadow on the other plants any time soon.

Twenty points to anyone who can guess what this is:

Here's another clue - this is the loaded seed pod of the same plant:

Yes, it is a hollyhock. Isn't it amazing how strange things can look through a macro lens? I love hollyhock seed pods - probably my favorite, after milkweed pods. The seeds are all tucked together in a nice tight ring, like some kind of pastry or coffee cake.

Okay, how about this one:

It's a native plant, but one I don't see very often. In fact, the only place I've seen it in almost twenty years is in my garden where I planted it.

Here it is again, but this time with the flower head still in tact:

This is New York Ironweed (Vernonia noveboracensis). I'm constantly trying to photograph the thing, but it seems that every time I try the wind starts to blow and I never get an unblurry shot. This included yesterday...had a devil of a time trying to capture an image. The flowers are a beautiful dark purple, and the plant grows over five feet tall. In fact, it is taller than I - so it's gotta' be at least five-and-a-half feet tall. According to Lawrence Newcomb, ironweeds can reach up to ten feet in height!


I love this shot. Any guesses?

It looks to me like some kind of exotic orchid, but in fact it is just the empty seed pod of a daylily. Kind of neat, though, don't you think?


As mentioned before, the birds are ignoring the sunflower seeds this year. Still, they make for a nice photograph:

Here we have a pretty good close-up of a nifty plant that is starting to take over some of my gardens: Verbascum.

Verbascum is in the same family as mulleins. In fact, they are in the same genus (Verbascum). Mulleins are not native, although they have naturalized pretty darn well and many of our native birds feast on their tiny seeds. This Verbascum has been featured on my blog in the past, with its lovely colorful flowers - scroll down past the hollyhocks here.

Today we woke to fresh snow - I actually had to shovel the driveway (well, it was only a couple inches, so I didn't really HAVE to shovel, but I felt like I should - it is winter after all). More is on the way. In fact, the weather gurus are forecasting a winter storm watch for later today through tomorrow morning. Up to six whole inches. Those of you in the DC/Maryland/PA belt, with your 56" of snow, will likely laugh at our measley 6", but that will almost double what we've had all month! Things are in a state of drought up here. Total new moisture for February so far: 0.31". That's zero-point-three-one...hardly any moisture at all. Dry dry dry. Either we're gonna get nailed later on, or we will be suffering another dry year. Only time will tell.