Deep Snow and Growing Colder

Yeah, it was kind of cold today, somewhere in the low teens. But I heard it should be REALLY cold tomorrow: way below zero and very windy. So Sue and I agreed that we ought to get outdoors today, while we could. We met at the end of Potter Road in Moreau and headed down through the woods to the frozen-over Hudson. Believe me, that snow was DEEP! Even in snowshoes we often sank up to our knees. We took turns breaking trail, because the going was hard.

As we made our way to the end of Rippled Rocks Point, we heard ravens croaking as if in alarm, so we thought we might have a chance to see an eagle. And so we did, flying right over our heads. (By the time my mittened hand managed to open my camera, the eagle was long gone.) At about this time, the sun emerged from the clouds to warm our cold-stiffened faces.

Sue managed to get a photo of that eagle as it disappeared downstream. You can see her photo and read her account of today's adventure on her blog Water Lily by clicking here.

That eagle was probably flying over this bay to check on the deer carcass lying out on the ice. As this photo shows, it wasn't worth the eagle's time to stop for a bite. Nothing left.

Following the Frazil

Never seems to fail. Every time I babysit my grandkids I catch a cold. So I didn't feel up to much strenuous activity today, despite that radiant blue sky and lots of nice fresh snow. But I had to get out, at least for a little bit, and a drive up to the Hudson Ice Meadows north of Warrensburg seemed a good destination. The river runs swift and swirly up there, frothing and tumbling over rocks, kicking up tiny droplets of water that freeze in the frigid air (which was well below zero last night). These frozen droplets -- called "frazil" ice -- collect in slushy masses that eventually pile up and dam the flow of the river, which then rises and deposits this ice in massive heaps along the banks. I was hoping I might see one of these pile-ups happen today while I stood on the bridge at The Glen. Well, I didn't witness anything quite that dramatic, but I did see lots of frazil flowing under the bridge.

Here's the view upstream from the bridge:

And the view downstream:

I then followed the ice downstream by taking the road that runs along the east bank. By the time I could next get a clear view of the river, the whole expanse was covered from shore to shore. As the winter wears on, this ice will continue to mount up, reaching heights of ten feet or more. Such a massive build-up creates a distinctive grassland habitat called an "ice meadow," where only plants that have evolved to tolerate these harsh conditions can thrive.

On my way home I stopped off in South Glens Falls to see what the Hudson looked like along the Betar Byway. As this photo shows, the quiet bays were frozen over, but the river still ran open out in the middle. To my amazement, I watched a pair of cormorants fly along low over the water (too quickly to be included in this photo).

I had hoped to spy a Bald Eagle fishing here, but I doubt any eagle will venture into this area while these thousands of crows are roosting in the trees. What a racket they were making! A real "caCAWphony!"

Crows are just such amazing birds! It's quite an experience to see thousands of them assemble from all directions for their nightly roosts, a phenomenon that happens only in late fall and winter. I once saw a huge river of crows, thousands and thousands, flowing across the sky from horizon to horizon, all heading toward the same spot. How on earth do they send out the word about where to gather? It's a mystery. While trying to find the answer, I found a wonderful web site about crows by Cornell ornithologist Kevin McGowan. You can check it out by clicking here.

One Determined Squirrel

Aargh! Freezing rain! The very worst kind of winter weather. I didn't go out except to shovel the walk and move my car. A good day to stay in and make soup. But Mr. Squirrel wanted me to come out and spread some seed for him.

Pleeeeease?

Oh well, let's see what's buried under the snow. Here's a good spot, under the birdfeeder.

No luck. Drat!

Let's try another spot.

Whew! Gotta come up for air!

Gotta go a little deeper.

Hah! Success! Found a seed! Num num . . .

Wouldn't you know it? Here come those dratted birds. Well, they're not gonna get my seed!

How could I not reward this critter's diligence? So I booted and mittened up and shoveled the space beneath the birdfeeders and spread lots and lots of seed. I hope the birds and squirrels got their fill before all the seed was covered with a thick layer of sleety snow. As I said before: Aaaargh!!!

Cold Day for a Warming Hike

Zero this morning. Brrrr! Too cold to go for a hike, I told myself. Besides, I just got back yesterday from a week away and I had lots to do at home. But that brilliant sun shining from a clear blue sky was pouring in my window, warming my face as I sat to read the morning paper. And then I saw the weather forecast for tomorrow: FREEZING RAIN! All our beautiful fluffy snow is about to be ruined. I just had to get out and enjoy that snow today, so up to Moreau Lake State Park I drove, to hike on snowshoes up the Red Oak Ridge Trail.

This trail runs along a high ridge through a lovely mixed hardwood forest, with occasional views of the lake down below and just enough steepish climbs to get your heart pumping and your temperature rising to a comfortable coat-shedding level, no matter how cold the day may be.

This trail eventually connects with a spur trail that leads even higher up the ridge, to a place of boulders and caves that my friend Sue calls the Valley of the Porcupines. Sure enough, I soon located the distinctive troughs made by these wide waddling critters as they make their way from den to feeding tree. (I think a fox may have shared that trough today, since I saw an occasional dainty five-toed canid print among the fat flat prints that Porky makes.)

There were new porcupine trails today, leading to hemlock groves that had yet to be pruned to baldness by Porky's gnawing teeth. There was evidence, though, that that task had begun, to judge from the hemlock twigs littering the snow. I followed one of these new trails today to where it led into a cave. Porky must have been hiding out down there, because I did not see any bristly brown critters climbing among the treetops.

Close by the porcupine boulders runs a little stream that was decorated with pretty frost formations. Some were like feathery ferns, . . .

. . . and others like cascading stars.

After descending the trail to the lake, I walked on the frozen surface, staying close to the shore where the dark convoluted limbs of High Bush Blueberry showed in stark contrast against the glittering snow.

When It's Snowy Time Down South

I think our snow has decided to head south for the winter this year -- or at least as far south as Mt. Kisco in Westchester County, where I'm spending the week babysitting my grandkids. I was just here for Christmas, when more than a foot of snow fell. And again this week, whole heaps of it fell again. The above photo is of my daughter's backyard on Wednesday morning. The grandkids had a snow day off from school, but no one would come outside and play in the snow with me. But today they were back in school so I had whole hours to be outdoors.

Happily, there's a wonderful nature preserve called Teatown in nearby Ossining, which is where I went today. Its 834-acre site contains two lakes, many miles of forested trails, a nature-education center, and a natural history exhibit that houses live animals, including a number of large birds too damaged by injuries to be returned to the wild. I always like to stop and say hello to the owls.

This was a very friendly crow, who had been illegally raised in captivity, so he continued to seek human company. All the time I remained by his enclosure, he leaned against the bars and made eyes at me.

I chose a trail that runs about a mile and a half around one of the lakes. What a splendid day to be outdoors! Just look at that clear blue sky and sparkling snow.

The snow in the woods was so deep it was hard to discern what animals had made the many tracks, but deer and coyote seemed to be plentiful. When I first saw this rollicking trail out on the ice of the lake, I assumed it was someone's dog out romping in the way dogs do. Imagine my surprise when I discovered these swooping curves were made by a deer!

We don't see many tulip trees in northern New York (I know of just one in Saratoga Springs), but down here they are as common as maples. And what a splendid sight they make, their golden seed husks lit up by the sun against that blue, blue sky!

Here's another tree I'll never see growing wild in the woods around Saratoga: a holly. This was the only one I saw today, so they probably don't grow that plentifully around here, either.

Aren't these pretty? I believe they are Highbush Cranberries, and many bushes of them were thriving within a grove of tall spruce trees.

Rustic benches are placed at scenic spots along the trail.

At one point I set out across the lake to explore this little island, which in other seasons is accessible only when escorted by a guide -- and for a fee.

When the ice melts, the island can be reached by this bridge, with a gate kept locked to prevent casual access by humans and other animals who might damage the native wildflowers growing out there. For the sad truth is, there are very few native wildflowers growing in the surrounding woods, because of overbrowsing by deer, as well as the overabundance of invasive species of alien plants. This Wildflower Island was officially established as a sanctuary for native plants in 1983 and now contains over 230 species of wildflowers.

The Teatown folks now plan to extend the sanctuary to include three more acres of lakeside woods, fencing the area to keep out deer, removing alien species, planting native species, and thereby restoring the habitat to its natural condition.

Makes me really appreciate the incredibly diverse and thriving native habitats that surround us in Saratoga County and on up into the Adirondacks.

The Eagles Have Landed -- and Fled!

It was winter-woods wonderland today, with lots of fluffy new snow to ease my snowshoed way over snags and boulders as I descended steep banks to the river. The river ran open out in the middle, but back in the bays it was frozen solid and covered with a thick blanket of snow.

In the middle of one bay near Three Pine Island, park naturalists have deposited a roadkill deer to serve as a feeding station for observing the Bald Eagles that winter along this stretch of the Hudson. As I approached the river, a clamor of caws rang through the woods, and I saw three or four large dark birds -- crows and ravens -- take to the air from where they had been feeding on the carcass. I could see from shore that the area around the deer had been well trampled.

There was not a single trail leading out from the woods to the carcass, so the only feeders so far have been birds flying in from the air. I can almost hear this big bird floomp down into the snow, then hop, hop, hop to join the others at their meal.

Crows and ravens seems to be able to dine together, but they sure don't like it when eagles try to horn in. I missed the first squabbling encounter, but I witnessed the ensuing chase as several corvids harassed an eagle as it soared away upstream. From the size of this wingprint left on the snow, I am guessing some eagle did actually manage to land and partake.

I had hoped to see other evidence of wildlife in the woods, but except for a few short trails left by squirrels or mice, I found no tracks at all. No fox or coyote or fisher or otter or mink. Not even turkeys or deer. But just wait. They tend to lie low for a day or so after deep snow, but then they have to get out there and hunt for food. With that carcass out there on the ice, I can imagine all tracks (of carnivores, at least) will be heading in that direction.

Snow at Last!

Oh happy day! Look at all this fluffy white beautiful snow! But I didn't even have time to play in it, since I had to drive down to Albany today to pick up my computer and its brand-new hard drive. Than reload all my old stuff on to it. Took all day. At least I got out to take these photos in my own yard. Isn't it lovely?

Tomorrow, for sure, I'm breaking out the snowshoes to go see what's happening in the woods.

Birds Along the Betar

When Sue invited me to join her on this brisk sunny day for a morning walk along the Betar Byway, I jumped at the chance. A wide paved walkway that runs along the Hudson in South Glens Falls, the Betar is beautiful any time of year. And in winter, its tangled thickets of bittersweet and sumac, plus its proximity to open water, make it a favorite gathering place for lots and lots of birds -- including species you wouldn't normally expect to find in winter. With her excellent eyesight and encyclopedic knowledge of birdsong, Sue makes a perfect birding companion for one who's as blind as I am. But even I have seen Bald Eagles here.

We could hear the birds better than see them -- cardinals and waxwings and chickadees and titmice and nuthatches -- all the winter regulars flitting about in the shrubs and the tops of trees. Then Sue said, Listen! It's bluebirds! And sure enough, after searching the treetops we found them, the morning sun lighting up their russet breasts. One even perched for a moment so we could get a good look at it. (Unfortunately, my camera insisted on focusing on the branches, but at least you can see the bird's color.) Although robins and bluebirds have become more and more common as winter residents, it's still a delight to chance upon them.

One other bird let us get a good look at it as it inched up the trunk of a pine tree. The pretty little Brown Creeper only creeps upward in its diligent search for insects hidden away in the bark, which it snags with that sharp curved beak, so perfectly suited for the purpose. Again and again this little brown bird ascended the trunk, then dropped to the ground and began its ascent again, hardly paying the slightest attention to us as we crept in close for a photo.

Almost as delightful as the birds this sparkling morning were the many forms of ice we found. There was hoarfrost covering the pretty round leaves of creeping Moneywort.

Along the river's edge, the ice attached to the shore was a tangle of geometric shards and needles that flashed in the sunlight.

Clear thin ice had formed on a pool of a tiny stream, the surface etched with curvaceous white lines that reminded me of the lines on a contour map.

Ah, so many sweet satisfactions! A good friend, a beautiful day, a fascinating place for a walk, and time to enjoy it all. I am certainly blessed.