Wildlife in the Garden

Some days I just have to stay home and confine my nature activities to chores around the house. Despite my best efforts to have violets and speedwells and ground ivy replace my lawn, there's still enough grass in amongst those dear weeds that I do have to mow it now and then. Another chore was planting a very healthy looking Ninebark shrub that I purchased from Fiddlehead Creek Farm, a Washington County nursery devoted to New York native plants. It's not easy to find flowering plants that will flourish in my shady yard, but Ninebark, a native spirea with gracefully arching branches and tufts of pretty white flowers, should do very well. And also provide food for wildlife: pollen and nectar for insects while in bloom, and fruits for the birds later. Here's what its flowers should look like next spring. Like puffs of apple blossoms.

I have to be careful not to plant any flowers that will clash with Oswego Tea, a wild-haired, blazing red native mint that demands to be the center of attention when it blooms. And it will bloom through most of the summer, starting now. Just in time to celebrate the 4th of July with its explosive flowerheads. This plant is a favorite of hummingbirds.

The all-time favorite of hummingbirds, though, is the Trumpet Creeper. This native vine is spectacularly showy, but it's one that needs a firm hand to keep it from working its way under the house siding and into the window frames.

We have a Trumpet Creeper providing shade for the south side of our front porch, and two days ago my husband was trying to chop it back a bit when a robin flew out, loudly yelling in protest. A peek into the shady interior of the leaves revealed the cause of the bird's distress.

My husband, too, was distressed, worrying that he had driven the robin away for good. But soon the mama bird returned and settled back down on those eggs.

And she's still there. Papa seems to be perched in a nearby maple tree, because we hear him hollering at us if we get too close to his family. So we try to keep a wide berth. I used my zoom to get this rear-view photo. Just imagine the ruckus awaiting us when the babies hatch and the feeding begins. I can't wait.

A Solstice Celebration

Today's the day, the Solstice, high summer. A good day to get high. High up, I mean, as in a nice morning climb with good friends. Here we are, standing on the mountainside overlooking the Hudson River. That's Cliff, on the left, who likes to hike barefoot; in the middle is Rebecca, who works as a nature educator at Moreau Lake State Park; and then that's my dear friend Sue, my nature adventure buddy who organized today's hike. Sue wanted to check the Wood Lilies that grow along the pathway up, so that's what we did, and we found them just fine and in beautiful bloom, tucked in among Hay-scented Ferns.

There were lots of beautiful things in bloom, including this Deertongue grass.

You don't think that's so beautiful? Perhaps you haven't looked really close at those tiny flowers that look like minute red Christmas trees. I never had, until Sue told me about them today. Amazing! How could I have lived this long and never noticed them?

Here's another kind of interesting flower that usually goes unnoticed because it's so small and unprepossessing. It's called Cowwheat. I wonder how it got that name? I'll have to do some research and add an update later.

Isn't the web amazing? All it took was one click to find a wonderful site that told me all kinds of good stuff about Cow Wheat. I won't repeat it because you can just click here and read it there.

Here's a pretty caterpillar that was clinging to a needle of White Pine. It was small, less than an inch, but quite colorful. Anybody recognize it? (Click on the Comments to learn why this caterpillar was so happy on a pine needle.)

I sure did not recognize this little pink lollypop lichen that was growing on the rocky mountainside. I've never seen it before, and it's not in my lichen book. What a pretty color combination, those soft pink fruiting bodies atop that nubby carpet of dark- and grey-green thallus. (Check the Comments to find that Ellen has ID'd this lichen for us.)

More pretty pink things. These are Black Huckleberries. Blue-black they will be, when they're ripe.

We did find some ripe Low Blueberries and ate them as fast as we found them. Sue told us that it was a Solstice tradition to pick and eat blueberries without using your hands. Here she shows us how. Don't slide down that mountainside, Sue!

Another beautiful fruit -- or rather, fruiting body. This is what one of my mushroom books calls Ling Chih and another book calls Lacquered Polypore. Ganoderma lucidum is the scientific name, and I know enough Latin to recognize the word for "shiny" in there. And shiny it certainly is.

That Chinese name intrigued me, so I looked in my Audubon's mushroom guide, where I learned that this species is believed to be the Ling Chih of the ancient Chinese, the "mushroom of immortality" or the "herb of spiritual potency." The Aududon guide also notes that a candy made of the essence is sold in Chinese markets in New York City. Wow! A magic mushroom! How appropriate for Solstice Day!

Here's another beautiful mushroom, a Painted Boletus. This is a young one, so its cap is a solid red, completely covered by what looks like a mohair shawl. As the cap spreads out, that red cover will shred, and the cap will take on a more speckled appearance.

I had read that this species of bolete is good to eat, so I took some home for supper. Were they yummy? Nyeh. Next time I'll just leave them looking lovely by the path.

Did you ever wonder what makes those foamy spit balls in the axils of green plants? Here's a nice glob of foamy spit I found today. Let's see what's inside.

What an adorable little green bug! He kept running away, so I could only get a shot of his rear. I carefully put him back on his plant after the photo session. I hope he can spit out another glob of foam to protect himself.

I hope I didn't spoil your day too badly, little bug. I certainly had a wonderful one. Thanks, Sue, for getting us up and out and up on the mountainside on this beautiful day. (For Sue's own account of our Solstice adventure, with beautiful photos and great Thoreau quotes, check out her blog Water-Lily by clicking here.)

A Mud Pond Stopover

After paddling the Hudson this morning (see last post), I still had time to visit Mud Pond for a while this afternoon. The north shore of that pond lies quite close to the road, so it's easy to run right down to the water and see what's happening there. And there's always something. The shoreline is thick with wildflowers and reeds, the pond surface covered with floating plants, the water astir with frogs and turtles and whirligig beetles, and the air alive with dragon- and damselflies. I was happy to see pretty pink Water Smartweed just coming into bloom.

It's always frustrating to try to photograph dragon- or damselflies, since you just get them into focus and ZOT! they're off! And today the wind was whipping the grasses around, so even when they landed they didn't sit still. Luckily, my camera has something called Image Stabilizing, so I did manage to get some shots of a damselfly (?) I had never seen before. Actually, two of them, although I suspect they are the different sexes of the same species. First, this coppery colored one, with a handsomely striped midsection and an abdomen that looks like it's made of bamboo.

Here's a closer view of those marvelous copper eyes.

Now here's the other one, very similar in every way except color scheme. This one is striped black and white. If this is the opposite sex of the coppery one, does anyone know if this is the female or male? And is this not a damselfly, but a dragonfly? It sometimes held its wings open, and sometimes not.

The sand near the waterline was alive with tiny scurrying toads, so I had to be careful not to step on them. They mostly disappeared against the sand or into the water, but this one clung to a piece of grass so I could actually see it. This little guy could have fit on the nail of my pinky finger.

After walking the shoreline close to the water, I headed back up the hillside trail to explore the sandy paths under the power lines. The Hazelnut shrubs were laden with frilly nut clusters already, the Bear Oaks were laden with baby acorns, and I found enough ripe Wild Strawberries to gather a handful. And there among the strawberry leaves I found this odd little gall.

And right smack dab in the middle of the path was this Painted Turtle, probably looking for the right sandy spot to lay her eggs. At the sight of me, she retreated into her shell, and when I picked her up for a closer look, she released a large quantity of pee. I wonder if they pee on the sand to soften it for digging.

Look at her back. What an interesting design right in the middle of her shell. Do all Painted Turtles have the same elegant escutcheon marking? No, they don't. I looked at lots of images of these turtles on the web, and each one has a shell just a little bit different.

Spreading Dogbane was blooming now with its clusters of peppermint-candy-striped flowers on reddish stalks with beautiful blue-green leaves. My whole-plant photos were out of focus, but this close-up shot of a single blossom came out fine.

I ducked into the woods to get out of the sun for a while, and came upon this graceful Indian Cucumber Root with its new-formed fruits that still hold the spidery pistils (?) of its former flowers.

Nearby was a single plant of Bristly Sarsaparilla, with its flower clusters that look like exploding fireworks. Those sprouty little balls will later produce blue-black berries on purple pedicels.

And oh my, speaking of fireworks! Have you ever seen such a vivid, fire-colored lily? It's hard to believe that such a spectacular bloom could be a native wildflower, but it is. This is a Wood Lily, and I found a number of them growing right along the path.

Mudlovers Along (and Under) the River

Got a note from Ed Miller today, telling me he had seen a small white unknown flower blooming under the water while paddling the Hudson, and did I have any idea what it might be? Now, Ed knows everything about plants, so I was quite flattered to be asked to help him ID this. So off to the river I went. And sure enough, I found the flower he meant right away, not 20 yards from the boat launch in shallow water. With the wind whipping my boat downstream, it was hard to get a good photo, but I did get an okay one. Can you tell what this flower is?

I knew immediately, but that's because I've often found Grass-leaved Arrowhead growing at exactly this spot along the shore for many years. And sure enough, I found some of this species blooming on shore. Good thing, too, because there was no way I could wade out to where the submerged ones were blooming. Three steps from shore and I was shin deep in muck and couldn't move my feet.

We have at least three different species of Arrowhead growing along this stretch of the Hudson, and the Grass-leaved one is distinguished by the shape of its leaves. They start out narrowly lance-shaped, but widen into blades at the top. I think you can see that feature in this photo.

This section of the Hudson flows between two hydroelectric dams, so the water rises and falls several times a day. Because of this, the plants that grow along the banks have to tolerate being periodically inundated. Some, like those various arrowheads and the Golden Hedge Hyssop that also grows here, can go right on blooming, even when under a foot or so of water. There are others that just like it damp. One of these is called Clammy Hedge Hyssop, which I found blooming today on the muddy shore of an island that lies just off the boat launch. This is a very small flower, maybe a quarter inch across, and it doesn't grow in masses that carpet the banks, as its cousin the Golden one does. I always feel really privileged when I find it.

And I felt exceptionally privileged today to find little Creeping Spearwort growing on that same muddy shore. I used to find it here frequently, but over the last five years or so the water levels have been kept extra high to accommodate recreational rafting, and the muddy flats that this spearwort loves have mostly disappeared. You can't see the fine thread-like leaves and stems of this plant in this photo. I could hardly see them, myself, they are so fine. This photo makes the flower look quite sizable, but it's really only about a half inch across.

As a consequence of these years of high water, many trees and shrubs that grew along the banks have now died. This photo shows what's left of the old shrubs (I think they were Red Osier Dogwood) as well as the new Elderberry shrubs that have come to replace them. Those Elderberrys weren't here three years ago. Or at least I didn't notice them. Maybe they've just reached the age to start blooming this year.

Happily, my dear little island looks as lush and lovely as ever, and during my visit today I was serenaded by the constant tweeting of Tree Swallows. Beavers, however, have been very busy along its banks, and some trees and shrubs that were here last year are nowhere to be found.

Oops! Sorry, little fellas. My tromping about the island scared off this brood of Common Mergansers, who took off running across the water before settling down to a rapid swim, nervous Mama right behind.

A Quartet of Critters (and One Critter Eater)

Yes, flowers were the focus of today's nature outing (see last post), but we encountered some mighty photogenic critters along the way as well. So here they are.

The critter eater first: this is the flower of Spatulate-leaved Sundew. Those red spiky pads in the background are traps that attract tiny flies, which the pads then enclose and consume.

This is a Giant Stonefly, and yes it is big, maybe two or three inches long. But it can't bite because it was born without mouthparts. Its sole purpose in life is to find a mate, reproduce, and then die. Some may think it looks ferocious, but I think it's quite beautiful, with those leaded-glass wings and embossed-copper thorax.

This is a Shield Bug of some kind. Also known as a Stink Bug. Luckily, it didn't get mad enough to release its stench on us.

What a pretty little red spider! It had made a home for itself in a leaf of Indian Hemp.

This spectacularly patterned Milk Snake was not a mild-mannered fellow at all. It was kind of hard to take his picture, since he kept striking at my hand. I kept trying to obstruct his path, and he did not like that one bit. But I didn't get bit.

A Celebration of Orchids

A few years ago, my husband had gone to Paris and a friend asked me why I hadn't gone with him. "Oh, I've been to Paris and I don't need to go there again" I answered, explaining that I'd rather stay home and hunt for wildflowers. Then I added, "If someone could show me where Showy Lady's Slippers grow, that would be worth the trip!" Well, folks, today someone did show me where Showy Lady's Slippers grow, and it was, indeed, worth the trip. I'm sworn to secrecy about the location, but I will let on that I traveled over a hundred miles (round trip) to see them. Or rather, to see just one. And my, it was beautiful!

It was quite a day for orchids, in fact. That Lady's Slipper was the showiest, no doubt, but my friends and I found several more. First, when Ellen and I stopped along the Ice Meadows just north of Warrensburg, we stumbled across a Tubercled Orchis hidden among the grasses along the Hudson. Its greenish-yellow flowers were too small for my naked eyes to see, but my macro lens managed to capture some detail.

We also found the small orchid called Wide-leaved Ladies' Tresses growing there among marble rocks. This is the earliest Ladie's Tresses to be found, and one of the details that sets it apart is its yellow lower lip.

Later on, in the fen where the Showies were growing, we found this Northern Green Orchis. Its flowers are just as green as its leaves, and because it was growing in very deep shade, it was hard to photograph with my pocket camera.

That same boggy woods was a treasure trove of pyrolas of many species. The first one we found was One-flowered Pyrola, scattered like stars across the forest floor. Some little pink Twinflower made it into the photo, as well.

One-flowered Pyrola hangs face-down, so you have to lie low to see the detail of its flower.

One-sided Pyrola grew abundantly there in the mossier spots.

And so did lovely Pink Pyrola, the tallest and showiest of all.

The Cottongrass we found in the shadowy fen is a different species than that which grows out on the sunny Ice Meadows. I don't know the name of the one we found today. It was certainly furry!

I was surprised to see the pretty blue speedwell called American Brooklime growing in such deep shade, since I usually find it where streams run through open marshes.

So all in all, this was a very special day for a wildflower-obsessed person like me. I'm recalling that phrase, "See Paris and die," but I'm substituting "Showy Lady's Slippers" for the word "Paris." Not that I'm ready to die. But it did seem today that I got to go to wildflower Heaven.

P.S. To get some idea of just how special these flower finds were, go to the USDA plant data site and type in the name of any one of them. There you will see how many are on endangered species lists in many, many states. Including New York.