Quick Trips on Busy Days

I don't always have all day to wander the woods to my heart's content.  But lucky for me, if I have but an hour or two to find a nature fix, two nearby state parks offer me very pleasant destinations, as well as easy walking. The Saratoga Spa State Park is right in my own town, and the Moreau Lake State Park is only a short drive north.  I visited both parks this past week, found much to delight me, and still got home in time to take a nap before fixing dinner.  Here are just a few highlights, from both destinations.

Saratoga Spa State Park, the Geyser Creek Trail

Our friends in our Thursday Naturalist group will be walking the Geyser Creek trail later this week, so I joined my friends Sue and Ruth late last week to scope out any points of interest we could share with our friends. 

This woodsy, watery trail follows the rushing creek that passes Spa Park's famous Island Spouter, seen in this photo spurting high up from its mound of mineral accretions, called a "tufa."  The creek is actually misnamed, since this mineral-water spouter is not a geyser at all.  Geysers obtain their energy from a build-up of underground heat, while all the mineral-water springs at Saratoga Spa Park are cold, obtaining their energy from built-up gases.  These gases give most of the spring waters in this park their sparkly carbonation.

Our trail moved past an even more enormous tufa, formed by mineral-rich waters that spill down the shale cliffs that line the path. The lime in these spring waters has also created a rich habitat for many fascinating plants.  Sue and Ruth are here examining some of the unusual mosses that thrive on these cliffs.

Many of the plants we found, such as this Maidenhair Fern, will only grow in just such lime-rich soil.

Another lime-lover is this Spikenard plant, its branches heavy now with abundant clusters of small berries.  I always like to nibble a few of these fruits, which have a rather interesting taste that reminds me of the smell of incense.

Here's one of the mosses that thrive on these banks, a species of "pocket moss" in the Fissedens genus.  The leaves of this  genus are folded in such a way that a pocket is formed in the leaf, hence the term "pocket moss."  I, of course, cannot detect this pocket with my poor eyesight, but Ruth has lent me her loupe on other occasions so that I could see it. The species is often hard to exactly discern for this genus, but I usually can recognize it as one of the Fissidens by the broad little "hands" of its leaves.

The trail ends where this culvert delivers the Geyser Creek to Spa Park, and it's at this point where we climbed a staircase up the cliff to walk back along a paved road.

Before leaving the creekside and climbing the stairs, I turned to look downstream and marvel at how the enormous tufa was shining in the sun.

After climbing the stairs, we approached a small stone structure that encloses Orenda Spring.  The word "Orenda" means a divine force believed by the Iroquois people to be the source of all positive human accomplishment.  Wouldn't it be wonderful if all the peoples of the world could be so transformed by drinking the waters of this spring?  One could only hope! This is one of my favorite springs in the park, and I always drink from its sparkly water for my own refreshment.

As we headed down this road toward our cars, we halted to admire this impressive patch of fungus. At first glance, I thought I was seeing a tree-trunk decorated by Turkey Tail Fungus, a shelf fungus known for its alternating zonal stripes of tan and orange. 

But the undersides of these mushrooms were definitely gilled, not like the smooth white surface consisting of tiny pores that is diagnostic for Turkey Tail (Trametes versicolor).   This mushroom was instead Trametes betulina, which is known to closely resemble the Turkey Tail, except for possessing a gilled fertile surface. In fact, the vernacular name for this fungus is Gilled Polypore (an oxymoronic name if there ever was one!). Another odd thing, although the specific name betulina would indicate an association with birch trees, these mushrooms were growing on the felled trunk of an oak!  But this fungus is known to grow on other hardwoods as well as birches.

Aside from an interesting mix of birds flocking a birdfeeder, we saw very little wildlife on this creekside walk.  A fascinating exception was this cluster of Woolly Alder Aphids feeding on an alder twig.

Why would I consider finding a bunch of bugs so fascinating?  Well, these are some truly amazing insects, almost miraculous, from a human point of view.  For all of these little aphids, their bodies covered with an extruded white waxy "fur" to protect themselves from weather and predators, are the wingless female offspring not only of a single winged female aphid but also of each other, clones of the single wingless clone that the winged female first deposited on this alder twig. At the end of their feeding season and before dying and dropping away, these individual females will each produce a WINGED clone of herself, and some of these will be males! (How a female clones a male clone I have yet to comprehend!)  Then all these winged Woolly Alder Aphids will fly off to some Silver Maple trees to find mates and lay eggs on the maple bark. The cycle than begins again next spring.  A few of these small fuzzy bugs were dropping away already, so I'm guessing that this colony was reaching the end of its life.

I hope these cute little critters will still be here when our Thursday Naturalist friends arrive later this  week.

Moreau Lake State Park,  North Shore Path

One of my favorite spots for a brief walk at this park is this trail that that divides Moreau's main lake from its back bay.  While strolling a needle-softened path beneath tall White Pines and Pitch Pines, I can catch glimpses of both bodies of water, the lake often glittering with wavelets catching the sun, and the back bay often quiet enough to mirror the mountains that rise from its shore.

And this time of year, the Black Huckleberry shrubs that grow like a hedge between the tall trees and the lake's sandy shore put on a glorious scarlet show.

Even after most other deciduous trees have faded from autumn splendor,  the shiny leaves of these huckleberry shrubs are just reaching their pinnacle of brilliant red.

I love the contrast between the Pitch Pines' puffy green needle-tufts and the glossy scarlet leaves of the huckleberries. Both species thrive is such sandy, low-nutrient soil.

The Pitch Pine boughs hold cones from as many as three years (or more!) at a time.  While some of the older cones on this tree had opened their scales to shed their seeds some years ago, I believe this is a yearling cone, with scales still tightly closed (and offering a sun-warmed perch for this Ladybug).  The Pitch Pine is well adapted to survive forest fires, sometimes actually requiring fire to cause the cones to drop their seeds.

As I walked along the sandy lakeshore, I was stunned to a halt to enjoy the fire-colored leaves of this small Sassafras tree. Since Sassafras is a tree more habituated to southern climes, we are lucky to have this beautiful species this far north, where they often prefer riverbanks, swamps, lakeshores and other wetlands that temper our winters' frigid temps with humidity.

Dropping to my knees to examine a patch of damp sand, I was delighted to still find some tiny plants of Small-flowered Dwarf Flatsedge before they shrivel from hard frost.  Although this Endangered species is one of our states rarest plants, thousands of them thrive on Moreau's sandy and pebbly shores. (Chances are good, though, that you would never notice them from a standing height!)

I continued along the sunlit shore to a point where I could look back and enjoy this view of the mountains rising beyond the lake.

The shoreline along this stretch is quite pebbled, and the small colored stones that lie beneath the crystal-clear rippling water bore bands of rippling light. This beauty was so mesmerizing, I could have stayed there all day.

But because I had errands yet to run, I turned to leave.  As I hurried toward my car, I envied this couple and their dog, who appeared to have all the time in the world to linger on this beautiful shore.

Autumn at Archer Vly

As our temps approach 80 degrees this afternoon, it seems strange to recall I was scraping ice off my windshield last Friday morning, preparing to head north up to Archer Vly, a small pond at the mountainous edge of Saratoga County, within the Adirondack region.  Since our leaves had yet to achieve their autumnal glories where I live in Saratoga Springs, I was surprised to discover that many trees had already dropped their leaves as I climbed higher both in altitude and longitude.  I was grateful to see that some autumn brilliance still remained to adorn the pond's shores and be reflected in its mirror-still water.

My friend Ruth Brooks had joined me for a paddle today, eager to immerse herself in northern splendor before she shortly heads to Florida to spend the winter.  For her sake as well as my own, I was delighted to find lots of brilliant foliage edging the shore. The Red Maples were especially spectacular. 

And here and there, the needles of tall Tamaracks (our only deciduous conifer)  had turned a glorious gold before all would be shed for the winter.

Since the morning was frosty cold, we chose the sunny side of the pond to start our circuit of it.  The sun warmed us well, while also enhancing the shining loveliness of Red Maple boughs leaning over the water and golden masses of Slender Sedge lining the shore.

We found other beauties in deep-shaded coves, such as the sculptural shape of these bleached-white twisted roots of a long-ago-fallen tree, nearly luminous against the dark banks.

The large floating heart-shaped leaves of Yellow Pond Lily had turned from green to a gorgeous lemon-yellow.

I was surprised to find floating this deceased Swamp Spreadwings damselfly, still looking so lovely, its colors slightly faded but its wings still glittering.

This species of damselfly (Lestes vigilax) is abundant along these shores in summer, hundred of them setting the very air to sparkling by their constant fluttering among the emergent shoreline plants. (See the photo below, taken last summer.) The distinctive white band at the end of the abdomen was still quite evident on the one I found floating today.

Well now, here was something I'd never before noticed in this particular body of water, having never seen it anywhere else but in Lens Lake, another Adirondack lake some distance from this one.  This mass of transparent greenish jelly was formed by the colonial microscopic single-celled protozoan called Ophrydium versatile.  The individual cells line up side-by-side in the "blob"and attach themselves to a jelly-like substance they secrete.  They are symbiotic with microscopic Chlorella algae that live inside the Ophrydium cells and give the blob its green color.  That greenish color and transparency were slightly obscured in this case by a coating of silt.

With most of the shoreline wildflowers now wilted and/or gone to seed, our attention today was mostly drawn to what we could find UNDER the water, like those greenish gelatinous blobs mentioned above, or long ropy lengths of Common Bladderwort bearing bulbous growths at their tips, as in the photo below. Those tips, called "turions," are clonal reproductive organs that will break off and be buried in the underwater mud, ready to produce new plants next spring.

I have often been puzzled this time of year by the presence of many uprooted Pipewort plants floating around underwater.  A friend has suggested that the big flocks of migratory geese or ducks might be the cause of this, as they dabble to feed in shallow water, uprooting the Pipeworts in the process.  That sounds about as likely as anything else I have learned or can imagine.

We continued our paddle on the shadier side of the pond, where the banks are steeper and rockier, with long expanses of exposed bedrock that is home to lots of different mosses.

Since my friend Ruth is a serious student of mosses and other bryophytes, I'm glad she had this chance to examine much of the green stuff that covered the rocks and roots along the still-shaded side of the pond as we made our way back toward our landing. Other pleasures still awaited us, as we enjoyed a great lunch at the nearby Tinney's Tavern in Lake Desolation. New owners have purchased this long-loved establishment, and both of us can assert that the food there is as good as ever, and maybe even better.  They are open for lunch through dinner on Friday and through the weekend, so if you're in the area, give them a try.

Autmn Solitaire

 For several years, I hadn't seen this old photo of a single Red Maple leaf floating on the quiet waters of the Hudson River until it reappeared on my Facebook page this past week.   I still felt struck with delight by the simple beauty of this gold and scarlet leaf so perfectly at rest on the water, with no background busyness to detract from its elegance. We are currently surrounded here in the Saratoga area with masses of trees in their multicolor autumnal splendor, and there's no doubt they are glorious. But like a ruby solitaire, this single leaf epitomizes the essence of autumn loveliness!

Sunlight and Shadow

While walking the shore of Moreau Lake, I saw these perfectly beautiful leaves and fruits of Maple-leaved Viburnum  (Viburnum acerifolium) leaning out from the woods.  No other shrub bears leaves of this gorgeous pinky-purple color in the fall, and it is rare that I find both the leaves and the berries of this native shrub so beautifully intact.  So I promptly stopped to take a photo.

I was grateful to have the sunshine illuminating both leaves and flowers so perfectly:

But then a cloud drifted across the sun, and rather than diminish the beauty of these leaves and fruits, the change of light transformed their color remarkably.  The yellower tones of the sunlit leaves gave way to the bluer tones of the leaves in shadow:

Two different lights, two different colors, two different ways of being absolutely beautiful!

New Lands to Explore at Moreau Lake State Park

The old lumber lands are open to us at last!  It was almost exactly 7 years ago that I first learned that vast tracts of land bordered by the Hudson River and formerly lumbered by the Finch Pruyn lumber company were to become part of Moreau Lake State Park. The transformation required lots of actions and transactions by a number of different parties, but all that effort has now paid off, and the Big Bend Preserve is now ready for the rest of us to begin exploring its many features.  The entrance to this 880-acre preserve is located along Butler Road in Moreau, with a parking area and signs explaining the significance of this site, not just for those of us desiring to explore these lands, but also for the plants and wildlife that naturally reside here.

My friend Sue Pierce and I had a beautiful day last Friday to meet at the Big Bend Preserve and set off along broad level trails.  No motor vehicles are allowed on the trails, but bicycles and horses are, as well as hikers.  Open meadows stretched along both sides of the trail, and we could see mountains rising beyond the Hudson River in the distance.

 

We passed by two separate ponds along the way, where the quiet waters reflected both the cloud-wafting blue sky and the changing colors of the trees that lined the banks of the ponds.

Sue and I did not plan today to walk the entire three-mile loop trail that would take us all the way to the Hudson shore, but we walked as far as where the trail took a sharp turn to enter a more deeply forested area. I believe Sue had heard a bird she was trying to espy among the high branches. I could certainly imagine that the broad meadows and open forest that line these trails would be exactly the right habitat for many kinds of birds and other animals to reside in.

We could glimpse an open area beyond this wooded stretch, and we understand that this area is in the process of being cultivated as a pine barrens.  Once the ground is prepared, the land will be seeded with native Wild Lupine, Horse Mint, and other sand-plain plants that support the life cycle of the federally-endangered Karner Blue Butterfly and other denizens of this kind of specialized habitat.

Many of the kind of plants that would thrive in pine barrens were already present now in the trail-bordering meadows.  Tufts of our native Little Bluestem Grass bore fluffy seedheads that glittered  in the sunlight.

Stands of Round-headed Bushclover lifted cinnamon-colored round seedheads atop stiffly erect stems.

A few of the trailside goldenrods still bore clusters of bright-yellow blooms, and nearly all of these flowers were swaying from the weight of visiting bumblebees stoking up on the last sources of pollen before the first frost arrived to end the blooming season.

This Northern Willowherb plant had already gone to seed, displaying a mass of curling pink pods.

Virginia Creeper vines snaked across the sandy soil, bearing leaves of startlingly vivid scarlet.

The most abundant flowers now were the masses of white asters crowding the side of the sunlit trail.

I find the small white asters quite difficult to distinguish as to species. But the relatively large size of these flowers, their open habit of growth and slender, dark-tipped pointed bracts suggested Frostweed Aster (Symphyotrichum pilosum) to me.  The visible hairs on the stems was another clue to that species.

This was another white aster with relatively large flowers, but with narrower petals. Its long, tapered, sharp-pointed leaves virtually announced to me that this was a Lance-leaved Aster (Symphyotricum lanceolatum).

Amid so many white asters, this one with pale lavender flowers was quite the anomaly.  The flowers could have belonged to several different species of aster, but the way its larger leaves enlarged at their base and clasped the stem suggested that this was the Wavy-leaved Aster (Symphyotrichum undulatum).

Sue told me that there were had been many more species of flowers blooming when she visited this site a couple of weeks before we explored it together.  She even found the remnants of an orchid she had found then, one called Appalachian Ladies' Tresses (Spiranthes arcisepala), hiding among the trailside grasses.  What a great indication that we will have lots of botanical treasures to discover as we continue to explore these wonderful new trails at Big Bend Preserve!