Changed Plans On a Cold and Blustery Day

We had plans, my friends Ruth and Sue and I, to paddle a beautiful mountain-rimmed, bog-islanded lake this past week.  The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the day seemed right for exploring the sphagnum-carpeted islands and shrub-crowded shores of Lens Lake in the mountains above the village of Stony Creek in Warren County.  But when we got there, the temps were still in the 40s, the wind was whipping up waves on the lake, and oh man, this scene did not tempt us at all! And all three of us had driven quite a few miles to meet at this location.  What else could we do around here to satisfy our naturalist urgings?

Lucky for us, Sue remembered once visiting a beautiful nature preserve nearby, and she also  remembered how to lead us there, to the Francis J. Dean Farm Heritage Trails, a short drive away.

And it was so inviting! Paved trails led across rolling meadows and into a forest and along a creek, and  best of all, a bright sun soon warmed our shoulders as we started our explorations.

We soon took a trail that led us along a boardwalk into a forested swamp.

We were impressed by the size of the beaver dam that held back a stream to form a pond.

Lining the boardwalk were native shrubs beautiful with berries, bright-red ones on the Winterberry bushes (Ilex verticillata) . . .

. . . and a mix of bright-pink and navy-blue fruits on the trailside Northern Wild Raisin shrubs (Viburnum cassinoides).

We soon entered a woods, where fallen logs held a fascinating variety of life forms working to return those logs to the soil: the fungi, lichens, mosses, and liverworts that all contribute to the logs' decomposition.

Both Sue and Ruth are passionate "mossers" who enjoyed determining which species were finding a home on this rotting log.

I am at the age and stage of brain deterioration where the names of things leave my memory bank as soon as I learn them, so I am content to at least know which organisms belong to which kingdom.  I did not bother to suss out the name of this white fungus, although I was fascinated by how "furry" its fertile surface appeared to be.

But I was not sure if these rosy tubular growths were a fungus or a slime mold or what? I bet my friends will be able to tell me, and if so, I will come back and add it here. I had never seen anything quite like it before.

It could be that these pin-head-sized orbs spreading across a sawn stump were a fungus I once recognized as Fenugreek Stalk Balls (Phleogena faginea).  If I had determined whether the stump was that of an American Beech (the preferred wood of that species), or if I had sniffed one of the stalk-balls to see if it smelled like curry powder, I would have been more certain about the species. 

At least I did recognize that a ruffly green liverwort called Lovely Fuzzwort (Ptilidium pulcherrimum) and a greyish-colored lichen called Pixy Cups (Cladonia sp.) were sharing this space on a log.

Is this lovely moss Delicate Fern Moss (Thuidium delicatulum)? And which Bedstraw species is the plant with six whorled leaves?

We were all delighted to find this maple leaf on the forest floor, one of many that were marked by the signature circular markings and cut-out holes made by the larvae of a fascinating insect called the Maple Leafcutter Moth (Paraclemensia acerafoliella).  It was our friend Sue who a few years ago first noticed such distinctively marked leaves and told us about this tiny creature with its fascinating behavior, how it both eats the leaf tissue and creates folded-over shelters out of the cut-out circles of leaf.  And here's a link to a detailed description of the life-cycle of this amazing insect by the biologist Bryan Pfeiffer. Prepare to be astonished!

After so much kneeling and crouching and crawling on the damp, chilly, deeply shaded forest floor for some time, we welcomed the sun-warmed rolling meadows our trail next led us to.

Although at first I regretted that most of the meadow vegetation had been shorn, I soon learned that this mowing was an important way to maintain this particular preserve.  I was grateful to read this sign as we entered this habitat:

And I was also grateful that a few patches of our native Little Bluestem Grass remained unmown. I love how the fluffy seedtufts on the ruddy stems of this grass appear to shine in the sun.

The trees at the edge of the meadow were beginning to glow with their autumn colors.

This stand of tall slender Quaking Aspens (Populus tremuloides) demonstrated how this tree must have acquired its names (both scientific and vernacular), as the bright golden leaves shimmered in constant motion against the clear blue sky. 

 I look forward to returning to walk these Dean Farm Heritage Trails in different seasons, when spring ephemerals bloom in the woods, and sun-loving late-summer wildflowers thrive in the yet unmown meadows. What a happy find, when we decided our plans for a paddle were not to be!