A Sparkling Day on the Mountain

Bright sun, blue sky, and just a dusting of new snow on the mountain trails at Moreau Lake State Park:  conditions were perfect Sunday for a hike to the Spring Overlook and beyond to the Tupelo Swamp.  My friend Sue met me at the trailhead on Spier Falls Road, and off we climbed, Yaktrax on our feet to keep us upright on the steep, icy, snow-covered trail. 

Although the day promised to warm to above-freezing temperatures, the newly fallen flakes were still cold enough when we started up the trail to dazzle us with their multicolored sparkles.  It's an interesting phenomenon, and one I can't explain, that sometimes the snowflakes behave like tiny prisms, flashing all the colors of the rainbow.  It's hard to capture this effect with a camera, but these two shots (the second with boosted saturation) show something of what we saw with our eyes.

I was eager to show Sue the big old Black Tupelos that my friend Laurie had taken me to last week, which are growing in a swamp way up in the Palmertown Mountains.  We would get there eventually, Sue and I, but first we had to stop to explore the gigantic rock formations that tower over the Spring Overlook.  These rocks are watered by little seeping springs that create lovely icicle spills in the winter and also create perfect habitat for a rich variety of colorful mosses, lichens, and liverworts.

We stopped for a snack while we took in the splendid view of the Hudson River from the overlook, and then proceeded to the swamp that lies in a central area of the Palmertown mountains.  Our trail took us through beech and hemlock stands, each forest type with its own quality of light and companion vegetation,  and we then left the trail to follow a rock ledge down into the swamp where the tupelos grow.  I was eager to show these trees to my friend, but I also wanted to make sure that I myself could find them again.  And I did.  But it took a little searching.  It's hard to believe that a tree that towered over all others in this swamp would be hard to find, but the surrounding hemlocks did their best to hide this tree's distinctive twiggy crown from view until we were right beneath it.

These tupelos are of such an unusual size (for tupelos) that I hope we can interest some dendrologist in doing core sampling to determine their age.  This part of the country was so extensively lumbered over the past centuries, hardly any trees of great age remain.  It would be quite exciting to know we had some ancients among us here in Moreau Lake State Park.  In a neighboring state forest a few miles away, Black Tupelos there have been dated at 600 to 800 years old.


I don't know what kind of ancient fallen tree has formed a nursery bed for these vividly colored Turkey Tails.   Whatever it is, it has produced a fungus of remarkable beauty.

On our descent from the mountain heights, we passed a row of craggy cliffs adorned with spectacular ice formations.

Below these cliffs lies a powerline access road, well traveled by both hikers' feet and power-company vehicles.  In the very middle of this hard-packed dirt road are several patches of Pink Earth Lichen, whose dainty appearance and diminutive size belie its extreme hardiness and tolerance for abuse.  I always go out of my way when I'm near this road to stop and admire these tiny pink lolllipops, so minute that most folks would walk right over them and never see them.  I don't know how I, with my very bad eyesight, ever came to see them in the first place, but I'm really glad I did.  And they're there, unchanged, in every season, seemingly as unaffected by the weather as they are to pounding traffic.

Up the Mountain with ECOS Friends

Yeah, it rained a little.  But that didn't deter the friendly bunch of naturalists from the Environmental Clearing House of Schenectady (ECOS) from climbing a mountain today in Moreau Lake State Park.  Granted, the climb was not very high,  just a few steep spots but mostly a steady up and up to a rocky ledge overlooking the Hudson.  And of course, being naturalists, our pace was as slow as our interest in trailside finds was great.  In short, we took our sweet time.

And we took a few detours.  When we reached a place where powerlines cross the trail, my friend Sue and I led our group on a little sidetrip to visit a patch of Pink Earth Lichens that we knew could be found in that area.  That's a wonderful thing about lichens:  they look about the same in every season and you usually can find them again where you saw them last.  And I think Pink Earth Lichens are definitely worth a revisit.  Just remember, if you go looking for them, that their chubby little pink fruiting bodies are only about the size of a head of a pin.  This photo shows them much larger.

We found so many fascinating and beautiful lichens up there, we probably could have stayed right along the powerline and called it a day.  We were all delighted by this lichen, a Cladonia, no doubt, but one that combines the characteristics of British Soldiers and Pixie Cups but was something else entirely.  Ooh, and look at those tiny red wands sticking up from the Haircap Moss!  I hadn't noticed them until just now as I posted this photo.  I see the familiar moss spore stalks nearby, but what could those red wands be?  Part of the moss, or from some other organism altogether?

Growing in the same patch was another species of Cladonia lichen, this one topped with rosy pink fruiting bodies.

Someone in our group did know the name of this little lichen that grows in stacked tiers.  This is called Pagoda, a good descriptive name for this fruticose lichen.

Eventually, we resumed our climb, stopping at nearly every turn to admire the marvelous variety of fungi growing everywhere.  This delicate ivory stemless cluster reminded me of Oyster Mushrooms, but I couldn't be sure.

This toothed shelf fungus looked, at first glance, like Bear's Head, but a second look told me no, wrong shape, especially after we found a genuine Bear's Head growing nearby.  I'm not sure what this is.  It was tougher and more rubbery than the tender-textured Bear's Head.

Aw, aren't they sweet?  Two little Red Efts snuggle up on this chilly morning.  We also found a Red-backed Salamander under an overturned rock, but it wriggled away too quickly for a photograph.

Yes!!!  We made it to the overlook!  What a glorious view of the Hudson River, mirror-still today, with sunlit mountains standing out against the far horizon.  Tiny blue fuzzy flies, the winged form of Wooly Alder Aphids, were flitting about, and Sue (blue tee) captured one in her hand to show to us  up close.

That aphid flew away before I could take its picture, but I found a photo of one in my files, taken two years ago.  These aphids usually are wingless and cluster in colonies on alders, exuding "fur" of white waxy material that makes them look like tufts of cotton along the twigs.  When they've depleted their food source in one location, they sprout wings to move to another shrub, as this little critter has done.

The view from our perch on this rocky ledge was so lovely we didn't want to leave.

  Win (blue coat, grey cap) has spotted what he thinks might be an unusual Yellow Oak down there in all that mass of green.  And by Yellow Oak, I mean the tree species, not one that has turned yellow.  Just look at all those green trees, and here it is, October!  Where's our fall foliage color?

One of the joys of walking with fellow naturalists is that there's always somebody in the group who knows something the others don't.  Or spots really good stuff that the rest of us might have missed.  I sure had a wonderful time with this group today and was proud to show off a part of this beautiful park that many had never seen.  Now I look forward to further adventures together.

Trudging Up to the Overlook

Hot and muggy today. Not the kind of day I would normally choose to climb a mountain, but Sue and I wanted to see if the Ladies' Tresses were blooming along the Spring Overlook Trail in Moreau Lake State Park, and the only way to get there is up, up, up. Luckily, though, the trail is green and shady, and the day was overcast at first, so we were spared direct sun.

The Ladies' Tresses site is only half way up to where the trail opens onto a rocky ledge providing expansive views of the Hudson River below and Luzerne Mountains beyond. When we didn't find our flowers today, we continued climbing the rest of the way to the top. Every time we get there we have to acknowledge that the view is worth the effort. There's usually a nice breeze, too, to dry the sweat from our trudging.

With the day so hazy, the mountains appeared shrouded in mist as, tier after tier, they diminished in color until they disappeared against the sky.

Just because we didn't find our Ladies' Tresses, that doesn't mean we came away disappointed. There's always SOMEthing wonderful to see along the trail. Even before we started up, we saw these two Green Frogs on a plank by a spring, just sitting there waiting for Sue to come along and take their picture.

What a pair! One big, one little, same color, same pose, same direction. Cute!

For once, I was able to show Sue something first (those two Green Frogs). It's usually she who points out the really cool stuff in the woods and along the trail. I certainly never would have seen this tiny Wood Frog if Sue had not pointed her finger at him. For one thing, his color makes him blend in with the background, and for another, he was really, really tiny. He could have fit comfortably into that acorn cap.

And here's another teensy weensy critter that Sue had to coax me into seeing. It's some kind of worm or bug covered from head to toe in blue shaggy fur that was cruising around the stems and leaves of a Tick Trefoil stalk. There were quite a few of these tiny blue dots inhabiting the Tick Trefoil plants, but most of them dropped off and disappeared before we could examine them very closely. I'm still waiting for someone at BugGuide.Net to get back to me with an ID.

And here's a little blue butterfly, less than an inch across with wings folded up. I believe that this is an Eastern Tailed Blue, although there's just a little point near that orange marking where normally a tail would occur. My Audubon insect guide informs that sometimes these Eastern Tailed Blues don't have any tails at all.

Talk about small! Dwarf St. Johnswort (Hypericum mutilum) is always small, but the ones we found along the trail today were really small. Part of our trail today passed under a power line, and it appears that the power company has sprayed some kind of herbicide under the lines, because there was a wide swath of dead vegetation in that area. Only a few very hardy plants have managed to struggle back to life there, and these tiny St. Johnsworts were one of them.

On second thought, could this be another kind of St. Johnswort altogether, just one that's dwarfed by the poisoned ground? I always associate Dwarf SJ with damp places, and this place was very dry.

Pilewort (Erechtites heiracifolia) is one of those sturdy plants that are the first to repopulate cleared or burned-over land, and it was growing abundantly in areas where other plants had died. Although this plant has foliage that's quite handsome, its flowers are hardly showy, looking like tight greenish-purple, fuzz-topped buds that never open.

Ah, but a closer look at a dismantled flower head reveals that those "buds" are indeed already in flower. If you click on this photo you can see the curving styles that have pushed their way through the staminate tubes, collecting pollen as they protruded. (I see that a little bug has discovered that pollen.) When the flower goes to seed, those heads will form dandelion-like puffs, each seed attached to silky fibers that will carry it away on the wind.

I was happy to see that a large patch of Pink Earth Lichen was still inhabiting its boulder, unfazed by the application of herbicide in the surrounding area. Those little pink blobs are only about the size of the head of a pin. Because it's so small, this lichen is easy to overlook (and again, it was Sue who saw it first), but it certainly deserves a closer look if you find it.

Even I could see the brilliant color of these Hornbeam leaves scattered across the forest floor. I love those bright green stripes on the yellow background.

Here's a fungus that's hard to miss, too. (Although, once again, it was Sue who pointed it out some distance into the forest from the trail.) This is Chicken-of-the-Woods, and when gathered young, it does indeed taste like chicken. This one was too old to eat, but it hadn't lost much of its color. Or its size. The large clump on the left was easily three feet across.

This is another vividly colored shelf fungus, but I do not know its name. I find it frequently in Moreau Lake State Park, but I don't find anything like it in any of my mushroom guides. This is just a little one, attached to the end of a stick like a finial on a sceptre. I carried it with me the rest of our hike, pretending I was the queen of all I surveyed. And who's to say I was not?