The First Flower That LOOKS Like a Flower!

Just LOOK at those sunny little flowers, pushing up from the dead leaf litter to tell us that spring is here, for sure!  I found these delightful little Coltsfoot blooms in Saratoga's Congress Park today.  Yes, I know, we've seen Skunk Cabbage and American Hazelnut flowers already, but Coltsfoot is the first of the spring blooms that really looks like a flower, the kind we can draw with a yellow crayon, or pick and put in a vase for our moms,  or hold under our chins to cast a golden light that reveals we love butter -- just as we can do with Dandelions, the flower that Coltsfoot is very often confused with.  And also like the Dandelion,  Coltsfoot first came to American shores with the early European settlers, who planted both flowers in their gardens, Dandelions to serve as food and Coltsfoot as medicine.  Once used as a remedy for sore throats and cough,   Coltsfoot has more recently been determined to contain carcinogenic substances, so I can't recommend that you use it medicinally.  But I do recommend that you go enjoy the sight of some soon.  They may not cure your cough, but I'll bet they'll make you smile.

The First Peepers of Spring!

Mid-70s today, my first day out of Polarfleece since last autumn,  and the first time this year I've heard a chorus of Spring Peepers.  I walked around a pond in the Skidmore woods and the sound was deafening!  Listen!

First Flowers of Spring!

Wow!  Close to 70 degrees today!  No doubt about it, spring is here!  And here are the first flowers to prove it.


 The  red-mottled spathes of Skunk Cabbage have been up for some time, but today I found a spathe that had opened and the spadix inside was shedding pollen.  Little flies were flying in and out.

I searched among hundreds of catkin-draped American Hazelnut branches and finally found one twig that was tufted with the tiny red female flowers.

My Seeing-Eye Friend

I just love to go walking with Sue!  She's amiable and fun, she's full of nature knowledge and lore, she can tell most birds by their songs, and she shares my penchant for stop-and-stoop hiking that would drive most other folks nuts.  But what's really amazing is how well she can see, pointing out to me all kinds of wonders that I would certainly overlook.  Yesterday,  we went for a nice long walk at the Saratoga Battlefield, and it was certainly pleasant to amble along under that wide blue sky, feeling the warmth of a strengthening sun, and admiring the expansive vistas of mountain and meadow.  And those distant vistas were about all I would have noticed if my friend had not been along.

I had promised Sue bluebirds, for I knew that these fields and copses were exactly the kind of habitat they loved (and I'd seen them here before on previous hikes).  But I was just grumbling to myself that I hadn't seen a single one, when Sue told me they were all around us, flitting among the branches of nearby trees.  I peered and peered, but even with my binoculars, all I could see were little gray shapes hiding out in the twigs.  It wasn't until I blew up my photo of one and enhanced the color with my computer that I could tell it was really a bluebird.

I also nearly stepped on this cute little critter crossing our path,  but Sue saw it first and warned me to stop before I squashed it.

How odd to see a Wooly Bear so early in spring!  Don't caterpillars pupate in autumn, then emerge as moths in the warmth of spring?  Not this one.  The larval form of the Isabella Tiger Moth, the Woolly Bear winters over as a caterpillar, freezing solid, in fact, then thawing out when warm weather arrives, and it pupates in the spring. 


Here's another example of Sue's amazing eyesight -- and her sharp hearing, as well.  She heard the geese long before I did, then pointed up to where she saw a large flock of Snow Geese soaring northward on the wind.  Now, tell me:  can any of my readers see the flock of geese up there in that vast blue sky?  (I took her word for it and pointed my camera in the direction she indicated.)

Well, I'll be darned!  Once I enlarged my photo on my computer, I saw them too.   See them circled in red?  (Do click on the photo to enlarge it.)

After our very pleasant walk we parted ways, Sue to her home in Queensbury and I to Saratoga Springs.  Nearing Saratoga, I passed this patch of Red Osier Dogwood so startlingly red that even I, with my bad eyes, just couldn't miss it, blazing away on a roadside bank.

And oh look what else was growing there!  Dear Pussy Willow!  Spring is truly here.

Face Time With Raptors

I just love birds.  Problem is, I just can't see them.  Even with binoculars.  Because of scarred retinas, each of my eyes sees something different, so the two can't resolve that distant blurry bird into one clear image.  But this weekend I had a chance to see birds up close at the Winter Raptor Fest in Ft. Edward, set amid the expansive Washington County grasslands designated by Audubon New York as an Important Birding Area.  The event featured live birds of prey -- owls, hawks, falcons, and one grumpy buzzard -- as part of a mission to raise public awareness of the many endangered species of birds that depend on this grassland habitat for their very survival.

I arrived at the fest too late to get a seat for a free-flight raptor show featuring trained hawks and owls demonstrating their amazing aerial agility,  but I could have climbed on a horse-drawn wagon that was taking groups on an exploratory journey around the birds' wide-ranging habitat.

I chose instead to visit the many exhibits set up inside one of the barns, spending most of my time at the site of a wildlife rehabilitation organization, where I could make eyes at this darling little Screech Owl.  The site featured two of these tiny owls, a brown-phase one in addition to this gray one, both of them too damaged by injuries to be released back into the wild.  They certainly made endearing ambassadors for the cause of wildlife protection and rehabilitation.

This charming little American Kestrel, our smallest native falcon, had never been injured, but because it had been reared from a chick by humans, it had not acquired the hunting skills it would need to survive in the wild.  Oh, such a pretty creature!

Maybe this TurkeyVulture has a face that only its mother could love, but it's quite a handsomely impressive bird in all other respects.

That vulture seemed a bit taken aback by the arrival of another feathered friend.  This fellow all dressed in the garb of one of the western plains tribes, was attending the Raptor Fest to promote a Native American powwow later this year.  He told me his tribe was from Wyoming, although he lives in this part of the country now.  Our native northeastern tribes would not have clothing decorated with this kind of beadwork, nor would they have worn such elaborate feather bonnets.

Another exhibitor at the fest was one of my favorite nature sites, the Wilton Wildlife Preserve and Park.  Their exhibit featured a collection of animal skulls accompanied by descriptions of the animals' behavior and habitat, with the challenge to identify the name of the animal.  I am happy to announce that I guessed them all correctly!

Here, a crowd gathers at the edge of a field to witness the release of a Snowy Owl that had been successfully restored to health after injury. I was glad to see so many children attending the Raptor Fest, learning early how important it is to preserve the kind of habitat these splendid birds need to survive.

And here's that gorgeous creature, the Snowy Owl.  What a rare treat, to observe this lovely animal at such close range.  This particular species of owl is a rather uncommon winter migrant to our region, although more individuals than usual were reported as visiting this winter.   The bird looks very calm, resting there in the rehabber's arm, but now and then its long sharp talons would emerge from those fluffy feet, reminding us that this is a serious predator.

Free at last!   Released from the grip of its rehabber's grasp, the owl spreads its wings and quickly soars away, keeping low to the ground, as is its hunting habit.  I wish the dear creature well, hoping that it finds all the prey it needs here to prepare for its return to arctic regions for the summer.

Bebert Keeps Growing

Remember that tiny kitten we stole from his feral mom last August?  Such a wee little fluffball he was!  We named him Bebert (pronounced BAY bear).

We found a home for one of his sisters but decided to keep  the other little sweetie.  We named her Cleo, and the two were inseparable.

They soon outgrew their favorite perch, but although we bought another perch, they still preferred to snuggle together.

But now the perches are hardly big enough for one of them.  Just look how big Bebert has grown, and he's only 7 months old!

Lakeside Pleasures

Boy, what's the matter with me?!  I'm feeling so lazy I haven't posted a blog since Monday.  Must be spring fever, brought on by the last two sunny warm days, making me just want to mellow out and toss all my duties aside.  I did get outdoors, of course,  but mostly to mosey or just sit back, close my eyes, and turn my face to the sun.  But yesterday, Sue and I pushed ourselves to walk all the way around Moreau Lake,  happy to have a snowless shore to walk on.

We'd brought picnic lunches, planning to bask on the sandy beach at the northern end of the lake, but a brisk wind sweeping across what remained of the ice kept us moving, hoping to find a more sheltered spot in the lee of the mountains.  Although a calm day would have made for pleasanter picnicking, we were glad for the breeze that sent these ripples to dapple the underwater sand with dancing streamers of gold.  Plus flashing all the other colors of the rainbow.  Be sure to enlarge this photo with a click to see how prismatic these wavelets are, creating a gorgeous kaleidoscopic effect.  I stood and watched for the longest time, just mesmerized.

 I couldn't decide which photo I liked better, so I've posted both.

We eventually made it around the lake, where we found a bench that was both in the sun and out of the wind.  There we sat to enjoy our lunch and a splendid view of the lake and the sky.  That's when Sue saw it, a huge bird soaring way up high and moving fast on the thermals:  an eagle for sure, but not (she believed) a Bald Eagle.  Not even a juvenile Baldie.  Sue knows her birds, and when she got home and checked her books, her suspicions were confirmed:  she'd spied a Golden Eagle.  A nice way to end our already golden morning.

Two Weekend Walks

This past weekend's days presented quite a contrast in weathers:  Saturday sunny and warm, Sunday cold and gray.  I got out for a walk both days, but I enjoyed my walk more on that cold gray Sunday because my friend Sue was with me.

It's true that Saturday was a gorgeous day, and my solitary walk along the Hudson River at Moreau presented beautiful views of sky and water and mountains and trees.

But that dreary Sunday was far more fun because Sue always sees things I overlook, even without her binoculars.  Sue is the steward for the trail around Mud Pond at Moreau Lake State Park, so that's where we went to check on trail conditions.  As this photo shows, much of the ice has melted from the pond.  Sue is searching for waterfowl on the open water.  She spied a few ducks along the opposite shore.

One of the first things Sue spotted along the trail was a scattering of snowfleas hopping about on the snow.  Too small for me to see with my feeble eyes, these tiny critters are not fleas at all, in fact they are not even insects, despite their having six legs.  They belong to a category of creatures called springtails, a name that refers to the organ tucked up under their abdomens that snaps them skyward, very much like a hopping flea.  This is a much enlarged photo.  Their actual size is about that of one antenna.  It was quite a challenge to get a photo:  as soon as I'd get one in focus, it would just disappear into thin air.

This time of year, we often walk along complaining about how boring the woods can be.   But then our grumbles will be interrupted by something extraordinary, such as finding tiny shards of what looked like green glass among the chaff inside a hollowed-out log.

We probably would have dismissed those shards as some careless hiker's discarded plastic trash, but then Sue spied a spiky leg and a shred of wing among those bits and pieces.  What an amazing color for a bug!  I wonder what it could be?  Or rather, could have been?

Another almost invisible find, itsy-bitsy slime-mold fruiting bodies speckled a well-rotted fallen log.

On the underside of that same log, I found a quite extensive patch of Ceramic Fungus (Xylobolus frustulatus).  My Barron's mushroom guidebook refers to this fungus as "widespread but not common, distinctive and unusual,"  and notes that it prefers old debarked oak logs to fruit on.

Nearby that old debarked fallen oak was a patch of Maleberry shrubs (Lyonia ligustrina), immediately identifiable by the distinctive khaki color of its branches and the clusters of last summer's fruits still hanging from the twigs.  Those fruits are still there because no critter will eat them, since they are as hard as stones, even when fresh.  Another common name for this shrub is He-huckleberry, in reference to the flowers' never producing edible fruit.  I think the little fruits are quite cute, like tiny pumpkins.

Decorating the snow-covered forest floor nearby was a miniature forest of Tree Clubmoss, golden sporestalks still intact above the evergreen leaves.

All around the pond, we found evidence of energetic beaver activity, with many trees, both large and small, recently toppled and de-twigged.  Then, just as I was commenting on how seldom we ever see beavers' footprints despite the abundance of other signs, we came upon this collection of prints, the clearest either one of us has ever seen, showing both the big hind feet as well as the smaller front ones.  Now I wish I had placed my own hand in this photo, to show that those hind feet are nearly as big as a human hand.  Big enough that even I could see them!

OK, Snow, You May Go

What's the matter with me?  I've been longing for snow all winter, and now that we had a nice snowfall, I wish it would all go away.  It came too late, that's all -- after I'd got myself all primed for an early spring.  I had to nearly force myself to go outdoors today, but finally I did, choosing to wander along the Hudson where the river flows back into a marsh and around some islands.  Ah, but just the sight of those forested mountains against the sky and those graceful pines adorned with snow made me glad I'd made the decision to get outdoors.  As the psalmist sang, there's something about lifting one's eyes to the hills  that also lifts one's spirits.

The snow in the woods was not so deep that I needed snowshoes, but deep enough to  ease my passage over rocks and downed limbs as I made my way to where a frozen bay encircled Three Pine Island.  Out in the open river, the water ran free of ice.

 In other winters, I have found these particular woods criss-crossed with animal tracks of many kinds: deer, fox, coyote, fisher, and -- nearer the water -- otter and mink.  But not today.  Not even a trace of the trails of squirrels or mice.  All the critters must still be holed up in their dens since the start of this storm.  Well, I take that back.  I did find one critter.  But it didn't leave much of a trail as it walked across the snow.

 I'm always amazed to find spiders walking about in winter.  What do they find to eat this time of year?  Maybe they forage for hibernating insects hidden in the clefts of tree bark.  Or perhaps they feed on snow fleas or winter stoneflies or similar tiny critters that startle me by their lively presence in the wintry woods.


At least this nice thick layer of snow has brought some light into the woods, covering the dull dead brown of the forest floor and providing a foil for the rich tobacco-brown leaves that still cling to this Witch Hazel shrub.  The little beeches behind it still hold their leaves, too, although of a paler golden hue.

It's late on Friday night as I sign off this blog post, and I hear the rain falling outside.  I guess I will soon get my wish that this snow should all go away.  I'm really glad now that I did get out to enjoy it.

SNOW!!!

At last, we have snow. 

I could hardly believe my eyes when I looked out my back window this morning.

I blinked several times, but the snow was still there when I looked out my front door.

 Only a few cars had braved the unplowed road at the north end of Broadway.

In mid-afternoon, I went for a walk in the Spa State Park and the snow was still falling fast.

Rain will soon wash it all away, but it sure looks pretty while it lasts.

Yes, a VERY Big Tree!

While getting a haircut and gabbing with my hairdresser yesterday, I told her about finding those big old Black Tupelos in Moreau Lake State Park, and she told me about a big old tree she herself had seen:  an ancient Sugar Maple standing along the side of Parkhurst Road in Wilton.  "It's supposed to be the largest in the state," she said.  So of course that's where I sped off to, as soon as she brushed the hair clippings from my neck.

I know Parkhurst Road very well, a lovely rural woodsy road that lies along my route to the Hudson River on the other side of Mount McGregor.  I couldn't remember any trees there as being especially large, but this time I traveled slowly along, searching for one that might stand out from the rest.

"Aha!  I'll bet that's IT!" I thought, catching a glimpse of this gnarly old giant while searching for a place to pull over on the shoulderless road.

As I approached the tree on foot, I could see that someone had attached this plaque to the trunk.  How appropriate that the plaque was signed by someone calling himself (herself?) The Lorax, a character in one of Dr. Seuss's books who claims to speak for the trees.

 I wish I knew who that person was, so I could ask how he came to assert this claim and what measurements had been taken.  When I googled "largest sugar maple in new york state," I found a reference to another tree in Ontario, NY, over in Wayne County on the shores of Lake Ontario.  That Sugar Maple, which stands on the grounds of the Heritage Square Museum, was measured and dated in 1996, with a circumference of 17' 10" and an age of 368 years, about as old as a Sugar Maple can get.  I guess I will have to come back with a tape and take this Parkhurst maple's measurements.  I wonder if any core samples were taken to determine its age.  That may be difficult to do, for, as a recently sawed-off limb reveals, the tree may very well be hollow at its core.

I tried taking some photos of this impressive giant, but it's very hard to give any idea of its size and presence from a photograph.

While I crouched in the middle of the road peering up, a passing driver slowed down to ask if I needed help, which gave me the opportunity I needed.  "Would you be willing to snap my photo standing against this tree?" I asked, and the very nice lady obliged me.

I think she, too, was impressed by the size of the trunk and delighted to learn about this tree, which she had passed every day without a second look.  As had I.  My world grows larger and more fascinating every day.