First Signs of Spring. Ignore the Snow

Yeah.  It snowed last night.  Quite a bit, too.  But that's nothing new for March in Saratoga County. 

Meanwhile, my friends and I went looking just yesterday for signs of spring along the Spring Run Trail in downtown Saratoga Springs. And yes, we did find some.  As soon as we stepped onto the boardwalk that crosses the marsh at the east end of the trail, we could hear the Red Winged Blackbirds raucously calling: Conk-a-REEEE-a! A spring song, for sure!  The guys are back in town, choosing and defending nest sites for their mates, who will arrive a bit later.

We even saw a few blackbirds, too.  Too far off for my camera to get a good picture of, but this one that I took at the same time and location a year ago I could have taken today (cattails and alder catkins and all), if only one had flown close enough.

We enjoyed a few other bird sightings too.  A Red-tailed Hawk made several passes overhead, so we got to check each other out.

I was only able to briefly glimpse that Red-tail today,  but I have seen other hawks on other walks along this trail.  Lots of snags stand in the trailside marsh, and that's where this Cooper's Hawk (?) was perched before it took flight.

Look up, and see birds.  Look down, and see . . . what?  Just scads of Snowfleas, tiny hexapod springtails crawling and hopping across the snow surface.  Not exactly a sign of spring, since we find these tiny bugs on the snow in deep winter, too.  But they do seem to congregate on the snow's surface on winter's warmer days.

Here's a closer look at the Snowfleas.  They are not actually fleas, in fact they're  not even considered to be insects, despite their six legs.  They don't bite, either.  But they sure do hop, thanks to the spring-loaded appendage on their rears that can send them flying considerable distances.  There were at least five more critters in this picture at the moment I pressed the shutter button. But poof! Before the shutter clicked, they'd just disappeared!

On a nearby fallen log, this lovely frieze of Turkey Tail fungus was nearly as colorful as when it had emerged last fall.

At the very eastern end of the Spring Run Trail, a tiny brook courses through a woods. It looks as if my friends have spotted something of interest here.

Yes indeed, they did! One of those interesting things was this deep-red, bulbous, twin-spathed Skunk Cabbage plant, newly emerged from its winter bracts and actually demonstrating how this interesting wetland species can produce enough interior heat to melt the surrounding snow.

And just a few inches away, out in the shallow, slowly moving water, several plants had opened their spathes enough to allow us to peer at the spadices within.  And lo, the spadices were dotted with blooming flowers!  Ta da!  Here they are, folks: the very first flowers of spring!

Well, that would have been enough excitement for the day, but we continued walking along the trail until we arrived at some steep rock walls towering over both sides of the trail. These walls are most likely the remains of a bridge that passed over what is now our trail but which was once a railroad line.  The sun-warmed south-facing wall was almost completely bare of plant growth, but this north-facing wall turned out to support a plethora of shade-loving mosses, lichens, and liverworts for our bryophile friends to excitedly examine.

While I'm waiting for my moss-expert friends to inform me of the names of the plants that were clinging to this bare rock, I can safely assert that the lime-green growth shown here is a liverwort, while the spiky dark-green stuff surrounding it is a moss.

And look, some of that spiky moss (possibly Schistidium apocarpum, also known as Sessile Grimmia) had produced some red-capped spikes (most likely part of this moss's reproductive organs).

This liverwort, with its overlapping two-lobed leaves is most likely the species called Flat-leaved Scalewort (Radula complanata).

This moss had a beautiful fluffy appearance and was radiantly green. It sure reminds me of an Anomodon species, but that's as far as I will guess.

I do think I recognized this next moss as one of the Fissidens species (known as pocket mosses), thanks to its fern-like appearance. 

Another moss, looking a bit freeze-damaged, still sported its ruddy spore stalks. This one is possibly of the Plagiomnium genus, but species are difficult to determine without magnification.

There was even a tiny evergreen fern sprouting right out of the rock. Since many juvenile ferns look alike, I wouldn't even venture a guess about this one.

Reluctantly pulling ourselves away from this treasure-trove of a stone wall, we ambled along until we reached a bridge crossing Spring Run Creek.  Our approach was loudly announced by some Mallard hybrid ducks that were paddling there.

We also spooked a pair of White-tailed Deer who had been grazing in the nearby woods.

I know this bridge as the site where dozens of gorgeous blue Great Lobelia plants bloom in the summer, and sure enough, we could still find their now-desiccated stalks, studded with the spent seed pods along the stems.  I thought the empty seedpods vaguely resembled tiny big-eyed birds.

Returning the way we came, we stopped to examine some Northern Prickly Ash shrubs, delighted to find the swelling red buds that will soon produce male and female flowers on separate shrubs. I'm not sure if the sex of the shrub can be determined by the appearance of the buds.

A happy morning, spent with good friends on a trail that rendered many unexpected pleasures along with definite signs of spring. And now we are off to more pleasure together, at a nice Thai restaurant downtown for lunch !

Taking the Waters for Health

We're preparing for a snow storm this afternoon, but this morning the sun was out.  Sadly, I myself had not been out -- "out" as in outdoors -- for more than a week, laid low by an intestinal infection that was painful enough in itself, but the combination of prescribed antibiotics added nausea to the abdominal pain and general malaise.  But at least the drugs must be doing their job, since I felt well enough today to venture out for a brief walk in my Saratoga Springs neighborhood. Luckily, my neighborhood includes Congress Park just a block away.  And located in Congress Park are several mineral springs, whose waters are said to promote good health. So off I ventured to "take the waters," hoping their beneficial tonics might spur my complete recovery.

To reach the park, I headed south from my house on Circular Street, and turned right on the aptly named Spring Street.  The first spring whose waters I'd hoped to imbibe, called the Hathorn Spring, was just down the hill, sheltered under a decorative green-roofed pavilion.

The informative sign for the Hathorn Spring indicates this highly mineralized water is "renowned as a digestive curative."  Aha!  Just what I needed!

Oh bummer!  Out of service!

Luckily, other healing springs were not far away, just across Spring Street in Congress Park proper.  To reach them, I passed another handsome pavilion, this one harboring a marvelous carousel.  Closed now for the winter, it presents quite a lively attraction during the warmer months. I loved bringing my grandkids here when they were young, giving me a grand excuse to climb on a painted pony myself and joyfully surge up and down to the stirring carillon music.

I could look through the glass to admire the beautiful horses, created many years ago by a famous  carousel-pony sculptor named Marcus Illions.  The carousel was once a fixture of a Saratoga Lake amusement park, but when that park was sold, the carousel was moved to its present location in Congress Park, where it opened in June, 2002, to the delight of children of all ages.  

Continuing on, I next passed this grand Victorian building that housed a lively casino during Saratoga's gambling and society-hot-spot heyday back in the 19th Century.  Still called The Casino, the building now houses the Saratoga History Museum and offers luxurious event space for weddings and other elaborate affairs.

One can guess at the fabulous interior of The Casino by noting this gorgeous stained-glass window, created by the famous glass artist Louis Comfort Tiffany.

At the center of Congress Park lies a duck pond that hordes of ducks -- mostly Mallards that have interbred with domestic white ducks -- refuse to leave during the winter, even though the city draws most of the water down. Despite signs asking the public to refrain from feeding the ducks,  many folks can't resist tossing treats to them.  So the ducks know where the easy eats can be found.  Congress Park is a popular destination for people all year long.

I was glad to see this fellow was simply chatting with the expectant ducks, and not really feeding them.  

I'm glad I stopped to chat with the duck-chatting-fellow myself, since he had an exciting observation to share with me.  A pair of Wood Ducks had joined the throng today!  Thanks to my informant's pointing him out, I did spy the Wood Duck male in his gorgeous plumage. His mate, with her more camouflaging plumage, was impossible for me to pick out from the masses of similarly dun-colored Mallard hens.

Finally! Goal achieved.  A flowing spring. I could hear the water splashing as I approached the ornate Deer Park fountain.

I was happy when I read this informative placard, too, to learn that the water flowing was indeed, actual mineral water. Some years ago, as this copy reveals, the water was simply city water, offered as a low-flavored alternative to the mineral-rich spring water Saratoga Springs is famous for.

As the rust-stains reveal, the Deer Park water has lots of  iron in it. Carbon dioxide is dissolved in it, too, as is obvious from its tingly and refreshing carbonation.

Nearby was another mineral spring, the Congress Spring, housed within a handsome Greek-style pavilion.

This, too, was real mineral water, highly flavored and tingly with carbonation.  Again, its iron content is made evident by the rust stains.  The handsome ceramic fountain was created by Skidmore College Professor of Art Regis Brodie, a noted ceramic artist.

Here was one last spring to try in Congress Park, the Columbian Spring.  OK, let's check it out.

Ah, but I then read this placard, which explains that the water running here is basically city water, not mineral water.  Although the sign says that the water "flows here from Loughberry Lake, the City's Water Supply," I'm sure it passes first through the city's water-treatment plant to be filtered and chlorinated.  Not mineral water direct from deep in the earth, for sure!

Now well refreshed with what I hope are healing waters, I ambled through the park on my way toward home, just a couple of blocks away. I am glad my path took me close by our city's most exquisitely beautiful monument, called The Spirit of Life.  This elegant figure, holding a pine branch in one hand and an overflowing basin in the other, was sculpted by Daniel Chester French, the artist who created the statue of Abraham Lincoln in the Lincoln Monument, in Washington D.C.

Another favorite location for statuary in the park is this pool and fountain, formally named The Triton Pool but more familiarly known to Saratogians as Spit and Spat.  In warmer months, the two contending male figures (now protected from the winter in transparent enclosures) each blow water through conch shells toward each other .

Here's a closer look at one of the male figures.  If it's supposed to be Triton, god of the sea in Greek mythology, it seems that his dolphin tail is missing.  But of course, in warmer months, that part of him would be under the water of the pool.

As a naturalist, of course, I always take note of what's of botanical interest along my way.  I was pleased to see that young Black Tupelo trees (Nyssa sylvatica) have been planted recently on the banks of one of the park's pools. I recognized the right-angled horizontal limbs, as well as the short peg-like twigs on the branches. This is the right habitat for the species, too: next to the water.

The flat bean-like pods on this next tree indicate it is most likely a Kentucky Coffeetree (Gymnocladus dioicus), rather an odd tree to find locally.  This is a tree known sparsely across New York State,  its native status unknown.  Most likely, it was planted in this park by landscaper.

This blooming Witch Hazel (Hamamelis sp.) is definitely not one of our fall-blooming native species, which would long ago have dropped its ribbon-like petals.  There is a southern species, H. vernalis, that blooms from January into April.  Native to more southern states, that Witch Hazel somehow manages to survive our northern winters in cultivated locations.  Maybe that's what this one is.

Almost home, I pass under the sprawling and arching branches of this gigantic European Linden Tree (Tilia sp.) that stands at the northeastern corner of Congress Park. My home is a whole block away, but when this tree is blooming, I can smell the delightful fragrance of its dangling flowers from there.  I can also hear the buzzing of bees collecting the flowers' nectar from almost as far away. Our native American Basswood species (Tilia americana) has equally fragrant and insect-attracting flowers, but seldom does its leafy crown spread as far and wide as this one does. A magnificent tree!

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Of all the trees in Congress Park, this healthy American Elm (Ulmus americana) is the one I cherish the most.  Raising its splendid branches toward the sky like arms that are lifted in prayer, this tree truly speaks to me of hope and survival. This tree is a true survivor of  Dutch Elm Disease, which destroyed almost all of our native elms across the entire country.  I believe even this one was once infected, but with the help of intensive treatment it has survived and flourishes.  What a spirit-lifting symbol this tree presents!

I wonder if this America Elm's wide-spreading roots have tapped into some of the same waters that spring from our health-promoting mineral springs dotting the park.  Perhaps those waters will help me heal more quickly from my own ailment.  I sure hope so!

PS: There are many other mineral springs located throughout the city of Saratoga Springs, with the highest concentration located in the Saratoga Spa State Park, at the southern end of the city.  I frequently visit some of those springs in the winter, and I've posted many a blog about them.  Here's a link to one of those posts.

Where Did Winter Go?

Yes, it was lovely on Wednesday this week.  Clear sky, gentle wind, and temps approaching 70 degrees by late afternoon.   A truly beautiful day for a walk along the Hudson River, following Spier Falls Road above the dam. Blue sky, blue water.  What could be nicer?

But I was longing for SNOW and ICE!  Come ON, ye winter gods, where the heck ARE you? What little bit of snow we've had so far is all gone from south-facing slopes.  The only-recently ice-covered lakes are once again unsafe to walk on. So much for all the wintry stuff that actually makes winter fun!  Oh well.  There was still lots of decorative ice on the spring-fed mountainside rocks that line the road I walked along.

 

But I could hear the sound of melting all along the way, with melt-water trickling and splashing down the jagged roadside cliffs. 

I was pleased to see at least some of the spectacular spring-fed icefalls remained in the roadside quarries,  where back at the close of the 19th Century, rocks had been blasted from the mountainside to provide building material for the Spier Falls Dam, the largest privately-owned hydroelectric dam in the world, back when it was completed in 1903.  The dam still operates, generating 56 megawatts of power, which it provides to the surrounding communities.

(Here's one of my photos of the still-operating Spier Falls Dam, taken in very early spring some years ago.)

I love to make my careful way back into these quarries,  the forest floor still littered with huge sharp-edged chunks of blasted rock, but the constantly dampened ledges are softened by carpets of gorgeous green mosses.

But this perky clump of moss looked more red than green, what with a sunbeam illuminating the scarlet translucent spore talks.

This clump of the same moss bore leaves almost as red as the spore stalks.  Perhaps this red color is what suggested this moss's vernacular name of Marsh Cardinal Moss (Ptychostomum pseudotriquetrum).

I have no idea what organism (or mineral?) might have contributed the red splotches of color to this otherwise green-coated patch of wet quarry wall.  The patch was way out of reach for me to examine it closely, but my camera zoom showed me enough detail to suspect that both mosses and liverworts composed the green mix.

A number of lichens also joined the rock clingers, including this brown-leaved Dog Lichen species displaying its uplifted tan-colored reproductive parts. Tom Phillips, a friend who knows his lichens much better than I do, has identified this species as Peltigera polydactylon.

Here was a second foliose lichen sharing the same wet rock, this one less rubbery-looking and so dark as to be almost black.  Tom Phillips also gave me a likely name for this one, too:  Leptogium cyanescens,  a  most appropriate specific name, since any lichen this black will have cyanobacteria in its constitution, in addition to the fungus and alga that typically make up a lichen.

This wee baby fern had sprouted from a crack in the well-watered rock.  Juvenile ferns are notoriously difficult to identify, but since I could see a clump of Marginal Wood Fern (Dryopteris marginalis) immediately above it, I will guess that's what this one is, too.  

We naturalists would have so much less fun in the winter if not for the evergreen ferns and mosses and liverworts and lichens that decorate the forest floor, tree bark, and rocks in every season, adding beauty and interest to every walk in the woods. Even during a winter that doesn't seem much like winter at all.

Speaking of beauty and interest, this particular boulder I found in this quarry continues to fascinate and frustrate me.  I can find many photos of crustose lichens of various colors that cling tightly to rocks.  But none of them is this rosy pink. And my queries posted on sites that might be seen by those who would know have not elicited any responses.

It is quite lovely, is it not?  I wonder what its name is.

UPDATE:  Sue Van Hook, an expert mycologist, has indicated that she is "pretty sure the pink is a color change oxidation reaction like we see in Parmelia sulcata when the upper cortex has been eaten. I’d say it’s a senescent crustose lichen that previously was gray green."  Thanks, Sue!  That makes sense.