Back to the River Again (Whew!)

There's a section of the Hudson River at Moreau that is more than just an ordinary waterway among others for me. For this serene stretch of the river between the Spier Falls and Sherman Island dams is where I first carried my new little solo canoe and set off on my own, to paddle at a pace that would let me linger as long as I liked, inches from shore, enamored by the beauty of the forested banks and the glorious flora that prospered there. I found many plants here I had never seen before, inspiring my desire to learn the names of every wildflower I encountered, at first only those in this stretch of the river, but eventually all the wildflowers I found growing anywhere.  This river, this beautiful unspoiled section of it, was truly the birthplace of my passion to learn the names of all the plants I encountered anywhere! And thereafter, my boat also became my personal zendo, my place of silence and solitude and peace.

Here, the surrounding forested mountains fall directly to the water's edge, no houses or docks protruding into the river, disrupting my fantasy that I could be the first person to pass this way, alone in my little canoe.  How blessed I felt, to have such a marvelous place to paddle, so close to home, and possessing a perfect little craft that allowed me to access every inch of the cove-contoured shoreline that stretched for several miles between the two dams.

Ah, but late last fall, my sense of blessing was shattered! With advancing age and aching post-surgery knees, my ease about entering and exiting my canoe began to feel a bit compromised.  And the last time I paddled, on a small Adirondack lake where the wind was whipping up whitecaps, while trying to rise and step out of my boat into shin-deep water, struggling to hold the boat level while gripping the gunwales, a large wave rocked my canoe and over I went. Never in all the nearly 30 years I'd been paddling this boat had I toppled it! Oh no! Would this mean my days of solo canoeing were over? Had I grown too old and weak to manage access to it? At that point in the year, with increasing cold weather, I could not find the courage to test my strength again and counter my fears, and so I stowed my boat for the winter.

But now, the weather and water have warmed. I knew I had to restore my confidence about entering and exiting my canoe. I may be old (I'm now 84), but paddling is more than just a hobby for me, it's an essential way I maintain my strength and also feed my soul and exercise my mind.  And now, my dear friend and fellow paddler Ruth Brooks has returned from wintering down south and could accompany me and help me should I falter.  At any rate, Ruth's presence gave me courage and must have also given me strength to get into and out of my boat, and off we went together, to explore the Hudson's beautiful banks once more.  Here's Ruth, a moss enthusiast, examining some mosses that thrive on a riverside boulder.

Tiny Azure Bluets (Houstonia caerulea) decorated a maze of weathered roots at the water's edge.

Here's a closer view of the Azure Bluets' pretty sky-blue flowers.

Among the most abundant flowers we found today were the fragrant Canada Mayflowers (Maianthemum canadense) blooming amid the shoreline rocks.

Among the special floral treats was this trio of Shining Ladies' Tresses (Spiranthes lucida). The yellow lower petal is the most distinctive trait of this species, in addition to being the earliest of the Spiranthes species to bloom.

Rows of Black Huckleberry shrubs (Gaylussacia baccata) lined the banks, dangling deep-red flowers.

Here and there, solitary stalks of our native Northern Blue Flag (Iris versicolor) raised large beautiful blooms.

And at one location, a large patch of Northern Blue Flags was arrayed quite beautifully against the dark shade of the background forest:

We found occasional patches of Long Beech Fern (Phegopteris connectilis) dangling graceful fronds across the banks, but this dense patch of the ferns crowded among the rocks looked quite dramatically beautiful.

Impressive mounds of bedrock rise from the water's edge along this stretch of the Hudson.

A trio of shrub-covered islands dot the river here. A few pines remain of the many trees (mostly birches and oaks)  that 25 years ago forested these islands. Beavers and higher water levels destroyed most of those trees, changing the islands' habitat from shady forest to sunlit meadow.

The center island of this trio used to sustain dozens of Early Azalea shrubs (Rhododenron prinophyllum), but this year I saw only one, remaining in the limited shade of the few surviving trees. In former years, the fragrance of these beautiful blooms would reach all the way across the water to the river's edge

Sure, I feel some sadness over the change of island habitat that appears to have lessened the presence of these Early Azalea shrubs.  But my joy at now knowing that I can still climb into and out of my boat and still be able to paddle out to this island and other delightful locations along this stretch of the Hudson, has certainly outweighed any sadness I felt before. Now I can't wait to see what plants will thrive to replace the ones that were lost. Here's hoping I still have a few years of paddling left to me.

A Brief Walk in a Local Forest

On a recent walk through the limestone-underlaid woods at Skidmore College here in Saratoga Springs, I was delighted to see some plants I rarely see in other habitats. Not all require a high-pH soil, but they do all prefer a well-drained soil rich in organic matter. Except for a final surprise.

Bulblet Ferns (Cystopteris bulbifera), growing on limestone rocks.

While the Bulblet Fern does indeed produce clonal bulblets (which can produce new plants asexually), it also produces little spore packets called sori.

When Bulblet Ferns first unfurl in the spring, the now-dark stalks (rachis) are as red as Cherry Twizzlers.

Canada Violet (Viola canadensis)

The purple backs of the snowy-white petals are a distinguishing trait of this violet species. I have read that this species of violet actually prefers neutral to slightly acidic soils.  So how come I find it only in habitats known to be alkaline? Like this one.  The plants here are mostly found sprouting up between the cracks in limestone boulders.

Goldenseal (Hydrastis canadensis)

The clusters of glossy-red berries are just starting to form in the centers of some of the Goldenseal leaves. This species is rated as Threatened in New York State, so I'm glad to know of several locations in Saratoga County where it appears to be secure.  Although I do weed back Garlic Mustard from its patches every year.

Green Violet (Cubelium concolor)

The flowers of Green Violet certainly hide from view by growing in the axles of the alternate leaves, but in this woods, masses of the shin-tall plants cover ample areas of the forest floor. Despite the Green Violets' abundance here, this woods may very well be the only place this rare plant is known to grow in Saratoga County. Although this plant is indeed in the Violet Family (Violaceae), it bears only slim resemblance to other violets, with the exception of its three-parted seed pods:

Leatherwood (Dirca palustris)

All of the Leatherwood leaves in this woods were displaying these annual spotches, evidence of the only know leaf miner of this plant, the larva of the moth Leucanthiza dircella. Luckily, this grazing does not seem to diminish the large population of Leatherwood shrubs in this woods, although browsing deer are severely pruning many of the shrubs. 

Maidenhair Fern (Adiatum pedatum)

Because I tend to notice this entrancing fern mostly in calcareous habitats, I had assumed that Maidenhair Ferns required a high pH environment. But I have now learned (Thanks, Google!) that our northern populations actually prefer soils that are neutral to slightly acidic, although the Southern Maidenhair Fern (Adiatum capillus-veneris) does thrive in more alkaline conditions. Huh!  Live and learn!

Four-leaved Milkweed (Asclepias quadrifolia)

This is one of the very few milkweed species that prefers a shaded forest environment, as well as higher pH soils.  However, it does not like to be crowded by taller overtowering plants.  I'm not sure what other conditions perturb it, but it certainly varies in abundance here from year to year. Some years I find dozens throughout this 150-acre woods, other years many fewer.  At least I found three plants this year without having to wander every acre in search of them. I adore this plant, so dainty and pretty, its white flowers often touched with pink. But never once have I later found a seedpod on the plants. No pollinators?

Rattlesnake Fern (Botrychium virginianum) Or Botrypus virginianus?

Supposedly, this grape fern's fertile frond resembles a rattlesnake's rattle, hence the name Rattlesnake Fern. Because the spore capsules look like tiny balls and are borne in triangular clusters, I can see the "grape" shape more than the rattle, to be honest.   Because grape ferns depend on underground fungi to germinate and develop, they are extremely difficult to grow in home gardens, so we must visit rich woods like this to see and enjoy these attractive plants.

Yellow Oak Sapling (Quercus muehlenbergii). 

Note the tiny sharp "nipple" at the tip of each leaf lobe, which is distinctive for this species. Although the NY Flora Association Plant Atlas does not yet record this tree as present in Saratoga County, I have found a nice grove of 5 mature trees in the Skidmore Woods. This species of oak does prefer a calcareous habitat. The acorns of this oak are said to be the sweetest of all. Search though I may, I have never found one on the ground. I bet the squirrels eat them before they even touch the ground. Because they lack the tannins present in red-oak acorns, squirrels do not bury them. They would quickly rot or sprout in the ground.

Here's the trunk of a Yellow Oak (also known as Chinkapin Oak), which does seem to have a yellowish cast, especially when lit by the sun. The bark is distinctive enough that I can look around the woods here and distinguish four more nearby trunks that appear to belong to Yellow Oak.

Lopseed (Phryma leptostachya)

I love the alternating right-angled leaves of this plant, which will later produce a central slender stem of tiny pink flowers. The narrow seedpods turn down and appear to cling to the stem, hence the vernacular name. I frequently find this native wildflower growing out of limestone or marble boulders, and it is quite abundant in the Skidmore woods, where it grows right out of the ground. This is a really good year for this interesting native wildflower.  I have never seen so many plants as I'm seeing this year.

Here's one of my photos of the tiny pink Lopseed flowers, one of our few local wildflowers to bloom in deep shade:

And here are those "lop seeds" that inspired the name of this woodland plant. I will find them in September.

Orange-fruited Horse Gentian (Triosteum aurantiacum)

Heading for home, I left the shady woods and passed under a sunlit powerline, where I poked among the tall immature sunflowers and goldenrods to find a patch of this unusual native wildflower, blooming now with a wreath of tiny red trumpets circling the stem in each leaf axil. These blooms will turn into marble-sized orange berries containing the three hard seeds that inspired this plant's scientific name, which means "three-boned orange-colored plant" (or something like that). A closely related species, T. perfoliatum or Wild Coffee, has similar berries that can be roasted like coffee beans. I've never found that plant, nor have I tried roasting the seeds of T. aurantiacum and brewing some ersatz coffee. I have tasted the fruits, however, and found them seedy and insipid but mildly sweet. Here's one of my photos of the orange fruits that will ripen in September:

Searching the internet for more information about this interesting plant, I discovered that it is most definitely a calciphile that requires high pH soils. But unlike the other calciphiles I found in the damp dark shade of the woods, this species was basking in sun and happily growing in dry soil. Surprising!

Backyard Mini Duck Ponds

 Where I live in Saratoga Springs, there are three lovely ponds in Congress Park, which lies just one block away from my home on Circular St. Here's a crabapple-blossom-strewn bank of one of the ponds.

These ponds are usually home for an interesting mix of wild Mallards and domestic white ducks, including substantial numbers of ducks that are hybrids of those two species.  With such lovely waters to paddle in, plus many human visitors there eager to feed them (mostly on non-nutritional bread, despite signs that discourage such inappropriate food for them), why are the ducks found wandering around the city? I have seen them stopping traffic on busy Broadway as they amble across the streets.

And this summer, a pair have crossed two streets from Congress Park to take up residence in our backyard. Sometimes there are even three of them, two drakes and one hen, and they treat our birdbaths as their personal watering holes. The ducks' muddy feet make a mess of our birdbaths, and the trio gobble up the expensive birdseed we scatter for the wild birds, but they have resisted our efforts to direct them elsewhere. 

Well, it seems that one of those drakes must have cozied up with that hen, for look what we saw in our yard on Mother's Day: 10 tiny ducklings, so small they must have just hatched.

I worried about how those ducklings would thrive so far from a pond, but within hours this brand-new  duck family had disappeared from our yard. I have to assume (and also greatly hope!) that mama duck led her brood across the two streets that lie between our backyard the the Congress Park ponds, and are now safely ensconced in a habitat more conducive to their health and their needs. But what an adorable  Mother's Day gift for me!

But the following day, another pair of ducks was standing in our birdbaths.  I hope it was not the same hen, for her ducklings are still young enough to be cared for by their mother.

New Trails To Explore (And Lots of 'Em!)

 Oh my dear loyal readers, I realize I have been neglecting this blog for several weeks. It's not that I haven't been walking nature trails and taking hundreds of photos of our region's natural beauties. It's just that each year as I get older, I have less energy to edit the hundreds of photos I take and then try to think of something new to relate about places I've visited dozens of times and the wildflowers I am always delighted to see again. And again and again and again.  Having posted over 2,100 blogs since starting this venture back in 2009, I sometimes feel I am repeating myself at this point.  But this week I visited a nature preserve I've not explored before, and it was such a fine one, I really want to tell everybody about it.

The Sullivan Preserve is in Warren County, located on Glen Lake Road almost directly across the road from the popular Docksider Restaurant on the shore of Glen Lake. This 70-acre forested preserve was donated by Robert Sullivan to the Queensbury Land Trust in 2017, and it offers a variety of trails through a mixed conifer/hardwood forest, some of which lead to beautiful views of a forested mountain reflected in the quiet water of an open pond.

I was glad to follow my friend Sue Pierce or I surely might have gotten lost,  as we followed a green trail from the parking area to a convoluted course of red trails that took us to that splendid pond view, discovering a delightful variety of native wildflowers along the way.

The trees of this preserve were now well leafed out, but still allowing dappled sunlight and shade to reach the forest floor. And we had a gorgeous blue-sky day of moderate warmth for enjoying a walk in the woods. 

The up-and-down trail took a few twists and turns but eventually led us right to the shore of this forest-rimmed pond with its mountain reflection.

The still surface of the pond was adorned with numerous Yellow Pond Lilies (Nuphar variegata).

We passed many different species of ferns, but this Interrupted Fern (Osmunda claytoniana) was the species most immediately identifiable without close examination, thanks to its spore-bearing structures so obviously interrupting the pinnae of its fronds.

We did not find many fungi, but we did see this abundant cluster of large yellow mushrooms crowding the top of a rotting log. Although we were impressed by the handsome appearance of its golden caps and descending white gills, I was disappointed to discover by searching the internet when I got home that this is quite likely the Golden Oyster Mushroom (Pleurotis citronopileatus), an edible Asian import escaped from cultivation to potentially out-compete our native fungi. Luckily, we found just this single cluster.

Late May is the best time for enjoying the beauty of many flowering shrubs that prefer the dappled shade of the springtime forest. Black Chokeberry (Aronia melanocarpa) is one of our prettiest, with ample terminal clusters of showy white flowers.

Black Huckleberry (Gaylussacia baccata) is another pretty shrub, especially when its flowers develop their optimum shade of deep red.  These flowers were not yet as colorful as they can be, but its leaves had already produced their sparkly sticky resinous dots on the back.  If you pinch a Black Huckleberry leaf at this stage, it will definitely stick to your thumb.

And here is the queen of beautiful springtime shrubs,  Early Azalea (Rhododendron prinophyllum), with its abundant clusters of vividly pink large flowers, as fragrant as they are beautiful.

There were areas where large numbers of Partridgeberry plants (Mitchella repens) carpeted the forest floor, and some of the plants still bore last year's berries, looking as fresh and glossy as ever.  These berries are remarkable for requiring two flowers to produce one fruit, so each berry presents two blossom ends, as this one demonstrates.

The small shiny yellow star-shaped flowers of Hooked Crowfoot (Ranunculus recurvatus) are centered by developing seed pods that look like green balls covered with curved hooks. The better, when mature, to grab onto a passing pant-leg or fur-bearing animal and distribute the seeds within.  Usually found where the ground is damp.

What could be prettier than masses of these cute little vibrant-purple flowers spreading across the forest floor? I first learned the scientific name of this plant from my 1977 edition of Newcomb's Wildflower Guide as Polygala paucifolia.  Then later it was changed to Polygaloides paucifolia. And just recently, the word has gone forth from taxonomists that this wildflower is now to be called Chamaebuxus paucifolia! Yikes! I think I will stick to its vernacular name of Fringed Polygala.  Or even better yet: Gaywings. The flowers do look like tiny single-engine airplanes, propellors a-twirl.

I have to turn over the leaves of Hairy Solomon's Seal (Polygonatum pubescens) to see if the flowers that dangle from each leaf axil are blooming yet.  In this specimen, two of them had opened.  I would need to use my loupe to see the hairs on the ribs of the leaves that suggested the name "Hairy."

OK, is this the Red Baneberry flower raceme (Actaea rubra), or that of the White Baneberry (A. pachypoda)? Since this cluster is just about as wide as it is long, I bet it's the Red Baneberry's. Also, the Red Baneberry blooms and fruits earlier than does the White Baneberry, and these are the first of either species I've seen blooming yet.

Here was the great surprise:  Nodding Trillium grows here!  Some years ago,  a professional botanist told me that this species of trillium (Trillium cernuum) seemed to be disappearing from previously reported locations. I had known of three locations where I knew they did grow, and (happily) they seemed to be persisting.  And now I know of a new location!  Hurray!

And this was another treat we found along the trail: a Pink Lady's Slipper (Cypripedium acaule) of a particularly deep pink. Not masses of them, like populations we know of from other local preserves, but a delightful find nevertheless. Like a cherry on top of all the other delights we encountered at Sullivan Preserve.