Caterpillar Gone Wild!

I did manage to capture some of that frenzied Black-etched Prominent caterpillar in action. Heavy-metal rockers could learn some moves from this critter!

(It's obvious from my commentary that this caterpillar had me fooled about which end was which!)

Fun Finds at Mud Pond

I wonder if Sue wore that orange tee on purpose, so she would match the gorgeous orange Wood Lilies we hoped we would find today on the sandy path at the top of Mud Pond at Moreau. We guessed we would find a few, since we did last year around this date, but wow! were we surprised by the multitudes! Like bright orange stars in a deep green sky in places.

We walked the entire length of the power line right-of-way and tried to count the numbers. We think we found somewhere around 85, but every time we looked again we found some others hiding. You wouldn't think that flowers as vividly colored as this could hide from view, but they did.

Another flower we found blooming along that sandy path was Clasping Milkweed (Asclepias amplexicaulis), also called Blunt-leaved Milkweed. Sue had discovered it some days ago, and I was eager for her to show it to me, since I'd never seen it before.

With such a vividly colored flower (and as fragrant as it is colorful), how could I have missed finding it all the years I've been hiking around Mud Pond? There were at least a dozen plants along that power line right-of-way. This one was leaning right over the path, so you couldn't possibly miss it.

Here's a closer look at its pretty pink flower cluster. Newcomb's Wildflower Guide describes its color as "greenish-purple," but I'd say that this was a vivid deep rose.

Leaning in close to inhale the flower's sweet clove-like fragrance, I discovered this insect leg dangling from one of the florets. It sometimes happens that pollinators' legs will get trapped in milkweed flowers, entangled in the threads that join the pollen bundles inside, and often the insect will eventually die of starvation since it can't pull its leg free. It appears that the previous owner of this leg escaped by sacrificing the entrapped appendage. Or maybe the rest of the bug was eaten by an insect predator.

Today was a good one for finding all kinds of interesting critters, including these beautifully iridescent Dogbane Beetles, hanging out on (what else?) some Spreading Dogbane.

Can you tell who's who or what's what with this mating pair of dragonflies? The male (on the right) is clasping the back of the female's head with the tip of his abdomen, while the female has bent her abdomen forward so as to join her sex part with his sex part, which is up there under his thorax somewhere. They're both facing the same direction, although it's pretty hard to see her face, stuck under his abdomen as it is. Lucky for her she doesn't have to breathe through a nose. Male dragonflies can be rough at times, sometimes actually ripping off their female partners' heads.

Here's a coppery-colored damselfly that doesn't follow the normal habit of damselflies, which is to close their wings at rest, unlike dragonflies, which rest with wings spread open. This is one of the Spreadwing damselflies that hold their wings partly open when not in flight. And just see what marvelous wings they are -- so iridescent! Be sure to click on this photo to better see those wings. Also note that l-o-o-o-n-g abdomen, easily twice as long as most damselflies'.

I love the rich brown of this moth's wings, with a scalloped pattern that looks like inlaid wood. I love that furry face, as well. Anybody know its name?

Well, here was a puzzle, indeed! Looks like a wasp, with its wasp-narrow waist, and also looks like a mantis, with those huge grabber arms underneath that long skinny neck. BugGuide.net came through for me again, almost before I finished submitting my photo: this is a Wasp Mantidfly (Climaciella brunnea), and it's not a wasp nor a mantis nor a fly, but belonging to a family of its own, the Mantispidae, which also includes other predators like Antlions. This one had been enjoying its lunch when we disturbed it, for we could see bits and pieces of some other insect strewn across the leaf. And its jaws were moving. Mean as it looks, though, it couldn't hurt you.

This little guy couldn't hurt you, either. And I didn't want to hurt IT, so I made sure I washed the bug dope off my hands before I picked up this tiny toad, still sporting a little bit of its tadpole tail. There were lots and lots of these wee little creatures testing out their new land legs, hopping around close to the shore of Mud Pond.

On the other hand, this guy COULD hurt you, although it looks innocent enough when it's feeling calm, just moseying along eating its leaves, as any Black-etched Prominent Caterpillar is wont to do. Sue was the one who first saw this creature, which was not easy to do, what with its cryptic coloring and almost undetectable movement. Can you tell which end is which? That's its little black head on the right, munching along the leaf edge, tucked up under its lime-green cowl.

I sure guessed wrong at first, especially when it started waving these anal appendages around like front-end feelers. And then these little red tendrils began to emerge, and what we thought was its rear end began to swell up and turn blue.

Then it started to whip those red tendrils around in a frenzy, at the same time arching its other end up until nearly vertical. It really did look pretty scary. Good thing I didn't touch it, since I later read that when it gets really, really mad, it sprays out acid "from a gland on the venter of the first thoracic segment."

Here's a little sweeter image to close this post. New Jersey Tea, a native shrub that the early colonists did use to make tea, was growing thickly along the road as I made my way home. I love how those little puffs of flowers look like exploding fireworks.

Here's a close-up view of a flower cluster. See how those little flower buds are perfect five-pointed stars? How appropriate then, that these flowers always bloom right around the Fourth of July!

To Ithaca We Came

Let me tell you, if you had to be locked in a small room for a long time with four other people, those folks in the photo above are the ones you'd want to be stuck with. That's (l-r) Ruth Schottman and Frank Knight and Nan Williams and Ed Miller, four of the nicest people in the world, still smiling contentedly after five long days together, including nearly five-hour drives to and from our destination in Ithaca, New York, with Ed gallantly taking the center of the back seat between Ruth and me. Nan did all the driving, while Frank was the navigator and map decipherer (although he may not want me to tell about that). We were off to an American Botanical Society field meeting to explore many different habitats in the beautiful Finger Lakes region of New York. This was maybe the 30th or 40th "botsoc" meeting for the rest of this group, but it marked a marvelous first experience for me, thanks to my friends' invitation to join them -- and their delightful companionship.

We arrived in Ithaca early enough on Sunday afternoon (June 19) to meet Ruth's charming granddaughter Morgan, a student at Cornell University, who showed us around Beebe Lake at the heart of the beautiful Cornell campus. Here's Morgan examining the first of the flowers we found along the lakeshore, a Flowering Rush.

Here's a closer look at that Flowering Rush (Butomus umbellatus), a beautiful plant and a new flower for me, since it's not a common plant in Saratoga County, although it is considered invasive in several surrounding states and Canada.

Here was another new flower for me, growing around the lake. This is Cup Plant (Silphium perfoliatum), a big, rather coarse plant with leaves that join around the stem to form a cup. Native to more western states (and now a threatened species in Michigan), Cup Plant has become invasive in some of the New England states to which it was introduced. It surely seemed at home around Beebe Lake.

After dining with Morgen at a very pleasant Greek restaurant near Cornell, we next headed uphill to the other side of Ithaca, where we moved into our rather Spartan dorm rooms on the campus of Ithaca College for the duration of the field meeting. It was early to bed in order to rise for breakfast at 7, then off on a bus at 8am for the first of our adventures, a trip to Lime Hollow Nature Preserve to explore rich woods, limey ponds, and an acidic bog. It was here in the rich (meaning limey) woods that I found my third new plant of our trip, the Broad-leaved Waterleaf (Hydrophyllum canadense). At first glance, I thought it was Goldenseal, until I saw that cluster of bright-white, long-stamened flowers hiding beneath.

Over the course of the meeting's three full days, we explored so many bogs and marshes and other damp spots that my two pairs of water shoes never did dry out. I had to place them outside my room each night to prevent their oozy reek from gagging me as I slept. But was it worth it? Well, it sure was to me! Just look at this gorgeous Large Purple-fringed Orchis, blooming away in the darkest dampest spot in the woods, lit up like a beacon by a stray ray of sunlight. My fourth new flower of the trip. I do find the Small Purple-fringed Orchis along my home stretch of the Hudson, but never this larger one. (My fifth new flower was the Swamp Jack-in-the-Pulpit, which looks pretty much like the regular one, except for raised white ridges on the spathe. Sorry, no photo.) UPDATE:  I have since found that Jack, Arisaema stewardsonii, in a number of swampy spots all over Saratoga County.

Now, I would have been able to chart a whole bunch of new plants if I'd noted all the sedges this very knowledgeable fellow, David Werier, introduced to us on our wanderings. But I must confess that I'm saving the sedges and other grass-like plants until I have mastered the wildflowers, woody plants, mosses, lichens, ferns, and liverworts. So it will be a while before I pay really close attention, but I did manage to listen politely and notice a few details. I now know enough to hope that sedges CAN be distinguished one from the other. Occasionally.

David Werier was also our helpful and instructive guide up a trail that led to an overlook of Taughannock Falls, with many beautiful views of cliffs and creek along the way. It wasn't that long a climb, but it took us quite a while, botanizing as we went. (We just can't help ourselves!)

That climb had quite a payoff!

Thursday morning arrived too soon, and we had to pack up and turn in our dorm-room keys. But before we left Ithaca for home, we stopped to explore the Cornell Plantation, an amazing and hugely extensive area containing collections of native and exotic plants, including many trees, which are Ed's particular passion. Ed is curator of a collection of woody plants (trees, shrubs, and vines) at the Landis Arboretum in Esperance, N.Y., and he was really hoping he might find a native Cork Elm here at Cornell, but all he could find were exotics. To his great chagrin. I felt sorry for Ed, but nevertheless couldn't help but be pleased to find Tulip Trees here in bloom -- and with blossoms close enough to the ground for easy viewing. We have one (!) Tulip Tree that I know of in Saratoga Springs, but it towers way above the White Pine and Norway Spruce that surround it, so I never see its flowers. And they sure are something to see!

I'm sure all those super-knowledgeable botanists would scoff at me, but I do love the tiny alien weeds that spangle the grass. While others were scouring the area for rare and elusive species, I was down on my hands and knees adoring the almost-invisible beauty of these Persian Speedwell flowers, so dainty and darling and blue as the sky they turn their pretty faces upwards to mirror. Who cares if they're not native. (My sixth new flower of the trip.)

Ditto for these tiny Storksbills, another introduced species (aka alien weed) that adds its little bits of bright color to the otherwise boring grass. These are a miniature version of our native Wild Geranium, and marked my seventh (and last) new flower of our trip to Ithaca.

Only seven new flowers? Can that be all, for all our exploring of such a wide variety of habitats in and surrounding Ithaca? It sure makes me realize how lucky I am, living in Saratoga County, with rich woods, acidic bogs, upland forests, pine barrens and sand plains, calcareous talus slopes, mountain ridges, marble outcroppings, sedge meadows, etc., etc, etc., all within an hour's drive from home. I did have a wonderful time in Ithaca, guided by lots of extremely knowledgeable people, tromping the woods, slogging through bogs, wading through marshes, and climbing to heights overlooking the spectacular Taughannock Falls. I saw so many fascinating plants, it seems hard to believe that that only seven of them were new to me. And many of those seven were not even natives, but rather, introduced species.

Another introduced species is Scarlet Pimpernel, but this one was being cultivated in one of the Cornell Plantation herb gardens set aside for medicinal herbs. Hmm. I wonder what it would be good medicine for? I hope it's a better medicine than it is a weather predictor. Another name for this plant is Poor-man's Weatherglass, and it's supposed to bloom only on fair-weather days. It had rained the whole night before and was due to do so again. We were very, very lucky that, despite many showers during our stay, the rain seemed to stop for each of our forays, saving its drenchings for while we were riding or sleeping.

I find Scarlet Pimpernel growing out of a crack in the sidewalk in downtown Saratoga Springs, but it sure looks a whole lot prettier in a cultivated garden.

Not all of our fascinating finds were flowers. Or grasses or sedges or ferns or trees or liverworts or mosses. Just look at this spiky fellow with the toothbrush-bristled back and spots of brilliant red fur. (I've submitted its photo to BugGuide.net and will add its name when I know it.) It was crawling on a leaf of Dwarf Chestnut Oaks that were planted in hollowed-out boulders as part of a Holocaust Memorial Garden at the Cornell Plantation. This remarkable arrangement of oak and rock was created by the artist Andy Goldsworthy, known for his use of natural -- and often ephemeral -- materials for his sculptural works. I think he would have been overjoyed to find this colorful creature adorning his creation.

Thanks to a comment from Carol, I now know that this is a White-marked Tussock Moth Caterpillar. It's a good thing my thumb didn't get any closer, since the hairs of this caterpillar can cause quite a skin reaction.

Farewell, My Little Lovelies

No time for a woods walk or river paddle today. I'm doing laundry, preparing food to leave with my husband, and packing for a five-day total-immersion experience at a field meeting of the Botanical Society of America (Northeastern Section) in Ithaca, starting tomorrow. We'll be exploring acidic bogs, limy marl ponds, rich woods, calcareous shrub fens, northern forests, sedge meadows, peat swamps, talus slopes, white-oak swamps, gorges and waterfalls, etc., etc., etc. That's during the days. Plus botanical lectures in the evenings. I think I will get my fill of rare and wonderful plants. And rare and wonderful plant people.

I don't think we'll be looking for or discussing those pretty little roadside weeds pictured above. Alfalfa, Maiden Pinks, Yellow Bedstraw, Daisy Fleabane -- all as common as the barren dirt they grow in. But just because they're common, that doesn't mean I don't love them. So I'm giving them pride of place today, just to let them know I won't forget them while I'm off looking at rarer (though not necessarily more beautiful) flowers in Ithaca.

I won't be able to post blogs from there, but come back in a week or so to see what we found.

Nature Adventures Nearer Home

I've been traveling pretty far afield of late to see some amazing things, but today I reminded myself I don't have to go far from home for wonder-filled nature adventures. My own Moreau Lake State Park offers a rich variety of options: mountain trails, lakeside beaches, river islands, forests, streams, marshes, ponds, waterfalls, open meadows . . . the list goes on and on. The only problem is deciding which terrain to choose. This morning, my choice was a steep rocky trail through dark green woods along a babbling stream to a sun-filled clearing and a mountain pool. All in under three hours! We could have stayed all day, my friend Sue and I, exploring that pool and its flora and fauna, but Sue did have to show up for work this afternoon, so here she is heading back down that trail, which slopes off sharply into a deep ravine.

Called the Baker Trail, and only recently mapped and marked with light green markers, this wooded and mountainous trail offers many delights. Birdsongs from many species accompanied us on our climb, which took much longer than it might have, since we constantly stopped to note what mosses and ferns were growing out of the lime-rich boulders lining the trail.

There was no way we could miss seeing these bright orange mushrooms, tiny though they were, since their brilliant color called to us from out of the dull brown leaf litter.

Our destination was this sunlit mountain pool, shored up at one end by a beaver dam, home to what sounded like a thousand Green Frogs all twanging their banjos, and nearly filled in completely with Water Arum, also called Wild Calla.

The Calla was just beginning to bloom, its snowy-white spathes standing out against the blue-sky-reflecting water.

Sue was the one who spotted this empty American Chestnut bur lying on the muddy ground at the water's edge. This is an exceedingly rare object to find, since very few chestnuts grow to nut-producing maturity before thy succumb to the blight that has removed them from our forests. Using her binoculars to search the canopy for chestnut leaves, Sue found a number of chestnut trees around the pond that were of sufficient height to have possibly produced this bur.

Aside from the Calla and a few clumps of Blue Flag sprouting up from hummocks in the middle of that pool, we saw very few flowers in the woods today. Most flowering plants need more sunlight than the filled-in tree canopy lets in, an exception being this newly emerging cluster of Indian Pipe. Containing no chlorophyll and thus not able to use sunlight to produce its own nutrients, this ghostly little flower is parasitic on intermediary fungi in the soil to obtain its nourishment.

The same is true for Pinesap, a relative of the Indian Pipe whose flowers are borne in clusters, rather than singly, and whose color is more yellowish than the ghostly white of Indian Pipe. As its name suggests, this plant is often found under pines.

Both Indian Pipe and Pinesap used to be called "saprophytes," meaning plants that draw their nutrients directly from decaying matter in the soil. But recent scientific research has revealed that both these plants depend on using intermediary soil fungi to obtain nutrients, in a parasitic relationship that provides no benefit to the fungi. Because of these research findings, both plants have been reclassified, and are now included in the Heath Family (Ericaceae). I grant that it is hard to see how these pale little plants could possible be related to such other heaths as cranberries and blueberries, but it seems they all depend on soil fungi to get what they need.

Well, I learned something new today. I thought I'd better review my knowledge regarding Indian Pipe and discovered that my knowledge was obsolete. That's one of the great rewards of keeping a blog. I figure I'd better make sure what I say is true before I publish it, and so I get re-educated every day. Another great reward of blogging is that it gets me out nearly every day. Even if I only stay close to home.

Another Day, Another Adventure -- or Two! Or Three!

Another day full of fun on the bogs and ponds! I believe I have had more nature adventures in the past two weeks than most folks have in a lifetime. And today was certainly one of those days to remember for a lifetime. Here's my friend Evelyn leading me to one of her secret boggy spots to show me an incredible treasure: dozens of Showy Lady's Slippers in glorious full bloom.

It was certainly worth the two-hour drive up into the southwestern Adirondacks to lay my eyes on these beauties, a native orchid that is growing ever more rare.

Walking around this fen, it was hard to believe this plant is considered rare, since everywhere we looked we found more and more, including these unusual twin blooms.

There were other orchids, too, that had found a hospitable home in this rich fen, which is defined as a wetland that may be acidic close to the surface, but which provides nutrients to the plants that grow there from a calcium-rich substrate such as marble or limestone. That's exactly the kind of habitat that suits this White Bog Orchis.

This green one, too. We haven't quite decided which green orchid this is. Our best guess is Northern Green Orchis (Platanthera aquilonis).

Alpine Bulrush, with its waving long white hair, carpeted the damp sunny spots in the fen.

The pistils of Water Avens continue to grow, even after the flower has started to form seed, which gives this plant a wild and crazy appearance this time of year.

Who would guess that these beautiful structures are the seed receptacles of Marsh Marigold?

These look like tiny roses, don't they? They're the tender baby cones of Tamarack.

The day was still young, so we decided to paddle around nearby Sand Lake, which required that we carry our boats a half mile through some very muddy woods to come out onto this pristine body of water, which we had all to ourselves on this splendid blue-sky day.

Evelyn wants to call this Floating Heart Lake, since we found lots of these pretty little heart-shaped leaves floating on the quiet water where we put in. Later they will have small white flowers. It might be worth braving that muddy trail again to see these flowers in bloom.

Today, the most abundant flower blooming around the lake was Sheep Laurel, and it put on quite a show.

We paddled completely around the lake, pulling into this inlet to see how far up it we could go. Not far, it turned out, for this open channel soon narrowed to a rocky stream too shallow to paddle on.

Among the masses of Pickerel Weed, we found these mini-bog clumps, with beautiful dark-red Pitcher Plants towering over carpets of sphagnum and cranberry, punctuated with the dark pink leaves of Marsh St. Johnswort and the tender green bud-topped shoots of what will be Rose Pogonia.

It was another animal-rescue day. Twice, we found dragonflies of this species fluttering on the water until we fished them out and let them perch on our fingers until they dried. But they never did take flight. I wonder if their life cycle is complete and they are dying?

This angry snapper may well have died if I hadn't removed it from the middle of the road. This is the second snapper we helped across the road today.

I was surprised by how each turtle turned to confront me when I tried to nudge it across. For this turtle I used a snow scraper I found in my trunk to push it across. It did not appreciate that one bit, living up to its "snapper" name, but it did finally turn and proceed down the bank to a waterway, out of harm's way for the moment.

I then proceeded on my way, damp and muddy and scratched and bug-bitten and tired, but also deliriously happy to have spent such a day exploring such marvelous places.