We’ve enjoyed an endless spring for the last two and half months starting with the first few ground flowers and trees covered in bracts all the way back in Georgia in late March. In the course of that time we’ve moved through valleys, up to mountain ridges, drove all the way to 47th parallel north, back down to the 37th and spent the last two weeks mostly above 8000 ft. Driving up highway 119 from Boulder, CO to our friends house in Nederland we could see the snow on all the high peaks. A week later a bright pop of orange caught my eye as we once again took that trip up. I know it wasn’t there just a few days before. Sure enough huge poppies had bloomed. Higher up in town the fuzzy poppy pods were just beginning to form. All the aspen trees in town shook and shimmied in the breeze but on our drive through Rocky Mountain National Park the aspen trees were working ever so hard to get their leaves out in the short growing period there is to be had that high. With the late snow pack and the deluge of May rain in Colorado the grasses are a bright green dotted and highlighted by the yellows, red, whites, pinks and purples of flowers.
Truth be told I don’t have that good of a camera. Don’t get me wrong it’s a good overall camera however, anytime I want it to do something specific things get weird. Luckily I seem to do ok with the camera for macro images and seeing as how I love taking pictures of flowers I manage a few good pics every now and then.
A few days ago while out for a quick jaunt down a trail I stopped to document some of the floral kaleidoscope. At the first set of bright pink-purple flowers (Beardtongue) I also noticed a tiny black and white caterpillar so I took his picture too. After this I meant to catch up with my hiking partners but then I noticed a pretty little sunflower and one of the biggest ladybug beetles I’ve ever seen. Naturally I had to take his picture as well. At this point I figure I better just keep taking pictures while waiting for my friends to make their way back. One plant, just beginning to bud out, was covered in ants, must have had some sticky sweetness to attract them. In attempting to take their picture my eyes got caught a shiny congregation of Dogbane Beetles on the grasses directly behind the ants.
A hike is a fun form of “exercise”. One hopes to see pretty trees, vistas and if you’re lucky some charismatic mega-fauna. A botany walk gets one down to the ground. One hopes to see pretty flowers, neat plants (hopefully a rare one) and most likely a lot of bugs. On a hike you might get a few miles or more in, on my impromptu botany walk I went all of five feet. Both give me the satisfaction of being outdoors. I do love stopping to acknowledge the tiny world near my feet every once in awhile. I suppose it’s the closest to the Fairy world that this believer will ever get.
There are images in the American psyche that are as iconic as apple pie and baseball. The image of a plains indian in the throws of a bison hunt and the image of the Great Plains homesteader squinting their eyes in a sunny hundred mile stare bracing themselves against the unfettered prairie winds. These images are as gone as the prairie itself. As to why things are the way they are here in central United States is as complex as the history is deep. Our short visit to and through the landscapes of the grasslands that remain could not do it justice in this format. I will say that in the face of all that is ecologically and politically wrong magical moments can still happen. I want to share two such moments.
In Sheyenne National Grasslands in the south east corner of North Dakota on an eight mile loop trail around the oak savannah of Hankinson Hills the sight of about ten white pelicans in their typical v formation caught our attention. Being the large and strong winged birds they are we could hear the movement of the air as they went overhead. Just about the time the squadron passed us they began to break formation and swirl and dance up through the air. “What are they doing?”, I whispered. While it’s common for pelicans to ride the thermals I had never seen this before and something about the beauty of these large birds gliding above made me gulp back tears.
Purple Flowers
After Sheyenne we headed to Badlands National Park in South Dakota. There is the iconic badlands to drive and hike through but there is also the wilderness area to the west and two other units that are within the Pine Ridge reservation to the south. Surrounding much of the park otherwise is the Buffalo Gap National Grasslands. I’ve wanted to visit Badlands ever since I saw a picture of the colorful sandstone hills that give them their name. The beauty of the colors in the rocks did not disappoint but what I really fell in love with was found west of that rugged terrain in the Sage Creek Wilderness area of the park. Life’s a bit more green over there this time of year. Within the park one is free to wander about as they wish (just bring in all your own water). After a stormy afternoon and morning watching the male Bison roam about the campground area munching grass the sky calmed and we set out on a walkabout to see what we could see. We set out in an “as the crow flies” fashion for some hills in the distance that looked to have some promising views. We quickly learned that this land belies not just it’s true topography but it’s filled with life. As we walked crickets jumped away from our feet the way water moves in a stream as you cross it, a grasshopper trying to avoid us managed to jump right into Tim with loud thwap, while avoiding bison chips we also did our best to avoid crushing all the wildflowers. When we found ourselves looking 20 feet down to the stream below we decided to try going up the hill this time since downhill last time had us crossing a few streams. As we walked up to the bend in the creek we saw a porcupine that seemed to also be out enjoying the finally shining sun resting on a fallen tree trunk up above the stream. In his very porcupine fashion he moved himself up into the protection of the cottonwood leaves, even though this technically brought him closer to where we stood.
Porcupine
Moving on we saw both a kingfisher and a red headed woodpecker bouncing from tree to tree along another stream. As we walked closer to our destination we thought perhaps we might fair better by following in the bison trails instead of forging our own path. After all they’ve know this landscape for thousands of years, it’s in their DNA. This took us up and over the first hill and brought us down by a group of bachelor bison and one, very large, loner. We did our best to walk between without disturbing them as we headed towards yet another stream. There we looked across the stream to see a pair of pronghorn. At first startled to see us they quickly went about their business of eating and scratching their heads on the shrubs. Very near our desired destination we went up and over the next hill. As we came up though we found ourselves looking at a few more bison, only these were ladies that were part of the maternal herd. Even though we were a good distance away they rose in alarm. This alarmed the mama on the other side of them who looked at us over hill she was on. Up her tail went. We backed up a bit but the motions we accidentally set into to play could not be stopped. With all the ladies nearby on alert a calf wondering what the fuss was about looked over the hill at us too. We briefly saw the light brown face before mama and crew decided it was time to move on. This movement set off all the ladies and calves below them and they took off in trot to higher land. Like dominoes all the females and calves not waiting to see where the danger was took off as well. We watched and heard the ground rumble as somewhere around a couple hundred females and calves tromped their way to higher ground and away from us. On the one hand I felt guilty for having disturbed their peace, on the other this sight and everything that came with it was something of a miracle. Fifty years ago there were no bison in Badlands National Park and over a hundred years before that Americans had slaughtered an estimated 30 million bison down to just a few hundred. This incredible beast would have been gone completely from the world had it not been for a few people who thought to save them from extinction and a few that kept themselves hidden in the wilds of Yellowstone.
Bison Hoof
What was once the Great Plains are now fractured, stressed, abused and incomplete grasslands spread out across the states, yet there is still life there and if you open yourself to the place it might just surprise you. Just be careful if you follow a bison trail, they’ve got big hooves to follow and you might end up seeing more than you bargained.
There are images in the American psyche that are as iconic as apple pie and baseball. The image of a plains indian in the throws of a bison hunt and the image of the Great Plains homesteader squinting their eyes in a sunny hundred mile stare bracing themselves against the unfettered prairie winds. These images are as gone as the prairie itself. As to why things are the way they are here in central United States is as complex as the history is deep. Our short visit to and through the landscapes of the grasslands that remain could not do it justice in this format. I will say that in the face of all that is ecologically and politically wrong magical moments can still happen. I want to share two such moments.
In Sheyenne National Grasslands in the south east corner of North Dakota on an eight mile loop trail around the oak savannah of Hankinson Hills the sight of about ten white pelicans in their typical v formation caught our attention. Being the large and strong winged birds they are we could hear the movement of the air as they went overhead. Just about the time the squadron passed us they began to break formation and swirl and dance up through the air. “What are they doing?”, I whispered. While it’s common for pelicans to ride the thermals I had never seen this before and something about the beauty of these large birds gliding above made me gulp back tears.
After Sheyenne we headed to Badlands National Park in South Dakota. There is the iconic badlands to drive and hike through but there is also the wilderness area to the west and two other units that are within the Pine Ridge reservation to the south. Surrounding much of the park otherwise is the Buffalo Gap National Grasslands. I’ve wanted to visit Badlands ever since I saw a picture of the colorful sandstone hills that give them their name. The beauty of the colors in the rocks did not disappoint but what I really fell in love with was found west of that rugged terrain in the Sage Creek Wilderness area of the park. Life’s a bit more green over there this time of year. Within the park one is free to wander about as they wish (just bring in all your own water). After a stormy afternoon and morning watching the male Bison roam about the campground area munching grass the sky calmed and we set out on a walkabout to see what we could see. We set out in an “as the crow flies” fashion for some hills in the distance that looked to have some promising views. We quickly learned that this land belies not just it’s true topography but it’s filled with life. As we walked crickets jumped away from our feet the way water moves in a stream as you cross it, a grasshopper trying to avoid us managed to jump right into Tim with loud thwap, while avoiding bison chips we also did our best to avoid crushing all the wildflowers. When we found ourselves looking 20 feet down to the stream below we decided to try going up the hill this time since downhill last time had us crossing a few streams. As we walked up to the bend in the creek we saw a porcupine that seemed to also be out enjoying the finally shining sun resting on a fallen tree trunk up above the stream. In his very porcupine fashion he moved himself up into the protection of the cottonwood leaves, even though this technically brought him closer to where we stood.
Moving on we saw both a kingfisher and a red headed woodpecker bouncing from tree to tree along another stream. As we walked closer to our destination we thought perhaps we might fair better by following in the bison trails instead of forging our own path. After all they’ve know this landscape for thousands of years, it’s in their DNA. This took us up and over the first hill and brought us down by a group of bachelor bison and one, very large, loner. We did our best to walk between without disturbing them as we headed towards yet another stream. There we looked across the stream to see a pair of pronghorn. At first startled to see us they quickly went about their business of eating and scratching their heads on the shrubs. Very near our desired destination we went up and over the next hill. As we came up though we found ourselves looking at a few more bison, only these were ladies that were part of the maternal herd. Even though we were a good distance away they rose in alarm. This alarmed the mama on the other side of them who looked at us over hill she was on. Up her tail went. We backed up a bit but the motions we accidentally set into to play could not be stopped. With all the ladies nearby on alert a calf wondering what the fuss was about looked over the hill at us too. We briefly saw the light brown face before mama and crew decided it was time to move on. This movement set off all the ladies and calves below them and they took off in trot to higher land. Like dominoes all the females and calves not waiting to see where the danger was took off as well. We watched and heard the ground rumble as somewhere around a couple hundred females and calves tromped their way to higher ground and away from us. On the one hand I felt guilty for having disturbed their peace, on the other this sight and everything that came with it was something of a miracle. Fifty years ago there were no bison in Badlands National Park and over a hundred years before that Americans had slaughtered an estimated 30 million bison down to just a few hundred. This incredible beast would have been gone completely from the world had it not been for a few people who thought to save them from extinction and a few that kept themselves hidden in the wilds of Yellowstone.
What was once the Great Plains are now fractured, stressed, abused and incomplete grasslands spread out across the states, yet there is still life there and if you open yourself to the place it might just surprise you. Just be careful if you follow a bison trail, they’ve got big hooves to follow and you might end up seeing more than you bargained.
By the time my eyes landed on the movement in the water that Tim had pointed to it slapped it’s tail and dove under the water. After a few minutes the head reemerged and kept it’s course up the chocolate milk water of the Green River in Canyonlands National Park. We were out for a five day float and, ignorantly, a beaver is the last wild animal I had expected to see in this expanse of desert. Previously, I had tried in vain to see the beaver family that had taken up residence in downtown Martinez, CA. They caused quite a stir one year when the flooding from their dam almost reached the local shops’ doorways. After we learned that there was a very active little beaver near Sagehen Creek Field Station, where we camped for our California Naturalists class last summer, Tim and I made a point to get out to the valley early before breakfast to see if we could catch a glimpse before they burrowed in for the day. It was easy enough to find the fresh cut stumps along the stream’s path, the many willow branches that had fallen off his haul while being dragged towards the beaver’s lodges or dams and the watery game trails meant to keep him safe in the water where they can keep a steady 6-mph clip with their oil slicked fur and webbed back feet. Once we felt confident that we had found the most active spot we settled in for a quiet wait to no avail. The next morning we aimed even earlier and copped a squat. For a brief fleeting moment we saw a little brown head skimming the water before it dove back down.
Dam
Beavers are perfectly designed for their watery life with clear membranes to protect their eyes and valves to close their ears and nostrils. They also have skin flaps to seal their mouths around their front incisors so that they can still carry branches while under water. Amazingly they can stay under water for a full 15 minutes before needing to come up for air. Vigilant and accomplished engineers the beaver builds dams (some up to 100ft long!) along streams and rivers to slow the water for both protecting the lodge down river and to mellow and deepen the water for better swimming. Beavers play a vital role in creating meadows by this backing up of the water. The meadows keep the trees from filling in or it kills them off by drowning them out. The meadows and pools are habitat for insects and aquatic plants. Fish and frogs eat the insects, moose and fowl eat the aquatic plants. The fish and frogs are also a food source for predatory birds. The lodges themselves are masterfully designed usually with two water entrances not only for them to come and go safely but it makes for a good swimming hole for baby beavers, who take to the water within an hour of being born. Having a second hole makes for an easy exit should the beaver’s #1 predator, the river otter, make an appearance.
Like many thick furred animals they were hunted in astounding numbers during a time when beaver fur was quite the fashion. Beavers are a great come back story in that, with protection and reintroduction, they have managed since the 1940’s to fill back in their original North American range. To the point where some consider them a pest of sorts. The range is massive. They can be found in almost all of Canada and the US except most of Florida, Nevada, Southern California and the tree-less tundra of the north.
Most likely because of their initial abundance the beaver started showing up on everything from the first Canadian coat of arms to magazine titles. In 1975 Canada bestowed the beaver the honor of becoming an official symbol of their sovereignty. Driving along highway 17 from Ottawa to Sault Ste Marie we point out a lodge to each other every km or so. Thankfully we didn’t see any roadside, if you catch my drift. Walking along the River Aux Sable from our campsite at Chutes Provincial Park I catch a swirl of brown fur in the water below the hill we’re standing on. Tim catches it at the same time and we still our pace and sort of hide amongst the trees hoping it’ll pop back up with us unnoticed. Sure enough after a few patient minutes there’s our beaver chug, chug, chugging up the river. One could easily see his little paddle slipping slightly from side to side to steer his course. At one point he moves past a branch and then doubles back to check it out before moving on again. It seemed it was more the effort of trying to avoid notice while moving up river and not our “camouflaging” in the trees that had him paying us no nevermind. He didn’t even seem fazed much by the ruckus of the folks camped out in the group camp, there to enjoy celebrating the “May long weekend” rather than really take in the nature swimming right past them. After several minutes we moved on not wanting to stress him out, after all his night was just beginning and as beaver nights go he surely had a lot of work to do.
Beavers are still trapped, mostly for a food source. Those that know say the meat is tasty and the paddle is considered a delicacy. I have a lot of respect for those that are able to feed themselves off what the land provides them, and make use of all the parts. Still though when I found myself running my fingers through a magnificently thick and soft beaver pelt hung up for sale in a small town supply store in the U.P. the very next day, I couldn’t help but feel conflicted about the life that once was. I guess I have an extra soft spot for nature’s engineers.
By the time my eyes landed on the movement in the water that Tim had pointed to it slapped it’s tail and dove under the water. After a few minutes the head reemerged and kept it’s course up the chocolate milk water of the Green River in Canyonlands National Park. We were out for a five day float and, ignorantly, a beaver is the last wild animal I had expected to see in this expanse of desert. Previously, I had tried in vain to see the beaver family that had taken up residence in downtown Martinez, CA. They caused quite a stir one year when the flooding from their dam almost reached the local shops’ doorways. After we learned that there was a very active little beaver near Sagehen Creek Field Station, where we camped for our California Naturalists class last summer, Tim and I made a point to get out to the valley early before breakfast to see if we could catch a glimpse before they burrowed in for the day. It was easy enough to find the fresh cut stumps along the stream’s path, the many willow branches that had fallen off his haul while being dragged towards the beaver’s lodges or dams and the watery game trails meant to keep him safe in the water where they can keep a steady 6-mph clip with their oil slicked fur and webbed back feet. Once we felt confident that we had found the most active spot we settled in for a quiet wait to no avail. The next morning we aimed even earlier and copped a squat. For a brief fleeting moment we saw a little brown head skimming the water before it dove back down.
Beaver Lodge – By Tim Giller
Beavers are perfectly designed for their watery life with clear membranes to protect their eyes and valves to close their ears and nostrils. They also have skin flaps to seal their mouths around their front incisors so that they can still carry branches while under water. Amazingly they can stay under water for a full 15 minutes before needing to come up for air. Vigilant and accomplished engineers the beaver builds dams (some up to 100ft long!) along streams and rivers to slow the water for both protecting the lodge down river and to mellow and deepen the water for better swimming. Beavers play a vital role in creating meadows by this backing up of the water. The meadows keep the trees from filling in or it kills them off by drowning them out. The meadows and pools are habitat for insects and aquatic plants. Fish and frogs eat the insects, moose and fowl eat the aquatic plants. The fish and frogs are also a food source for predatory birds. The lodges themselves are masterfully designed usually with two water entrances not only for them to come and go safely but it makes for a good swimming hole for baby beavers, who take to the water within an hour of being born. Having a second hole makes for an easy exit should the beaver’s #1 predator, the river otter, make an appearance.
Like many thick furred animals they were hunted in astounding numbers during a time when beaver fur was quite the fashion. Beavers are a great come back story in that, with protection and reintroduction, they have managed since the 1940’s to fill back in their original North American range. To the point where some consider them a pest of sorts. The range is massive. They can be found in almost all of Canada and the US except most of Florida, Nevada, Southern California and the tree-less tundra of the north.
Most likely because of their initial abundance the beaver started showing up on everything from the first Canadian coat of arms to magazine titles. In 1975 Canada bestowed the beaver the honor of becoming an official symbol of their sovereignty. Driving along highway 17 from Ottawa to Sault Ste Marie we point out a lodge to each other every km or so. Thankfully we didn’t see any roadside, if you catch my drift. Walking along the River Aux Sable from our campsite at Chutes Provincial Park I catch a swirl of brown fur in the water below the hill we’re standing on. Tim catches it at the same time and we still our pace and sort of hide amongst the trees hoping it’ll pop back up with us unnoticed. Sure enough after a few patient minutes there’s our beaver chug, chug, chugging up the river. One could easily see his little paddle slipping slightly from side to side to steer his course. At one point he moves past a branch and then doubles back to check it out before moving on again. It seemed it was more the effort of trying to avoid notice while moving up river and not our “camouflaging” in the trees that had him paying us no nevermind. He didn’t even seem fazed much by the ruckus of the folks camped out in the group camp, there to enjoy celebrating the “May long weekend” rather than really take in the nature swimming right past them. After several minutes we moved on not wanting to stress him out, after all his night was just beginning and as beaver nights go he surely had a lot of work to do.
Beavers are still trapped, mostly for a food source. Those that know say the meat is tasty and the paddle is considered a delicacy. I have a lot of respect for those that are able to feed themselves off what the land provides them, and make use of all the parts. Still though when I found myself running my fingers through a magnificently thick and soft beaver pelt hung up for sale in a small town supply store in the U.P. the very next day, I couldn’t help but feel conflicted about the life that once was. I guess I have an extra soft spot for nature’s engineers.
There are many worlds within our world that are right there and yet completely out of reach. The ocean is an obvious one. Yes we can dive and now even send down robotic cameras that can handle the pressure of the deep ocean yet we are constantly learning and finding new creatures. This trip has allowed me many opportunities to find and learn, even about things and places I thought I knew. This has become all that more true now that I am firmly in un-charted territory. A quick couple of visits to New York many moons ago means I hardly know this northeast corner of the country. And yet I’ve got roots here. My mother spent here grade school years in Long Island, her mother is from Rhode Island and her grandmother from New Hampshire. My maternal grandfather was from Ozone Park, Queens. My paternal grandmother grew up in Philadelphia and many distant family members still live there. All those roots and I know nothing of this region’s ecology beyond that it snows in the winter. This is the mindset I’m in when we arrived in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey.
The first time hearing about the Pine Barrens was from Tim all of a month ago when looking into our travel route after our planned visit to DC. One doesn’t have to dig into the pages on the internet to find all the easy complaints about the place. It’s flat, sandy, nothing but pine trees and ticks everywhere. Everyone one of these “complaints” are true. The pinelands of New Jersey are, save for a couple of small oaks and white cypress, almost exclusively pitch pine trees. The soil, other than some silty bogs is quite sandy. The soft white “sugar sand” deposited here from both having been under ocean waters in previous warm spells to having glacial till and melt deposition from the last ice age. The lack of topographic relief can also be attributed to the areas previous life under water with little to no opportunity for uplift since. While we haven’t encountered ticks here I do believe that they can be prolific in the area. I suppose it’s one’s perspective that decides whether or not these facts are “boring”. The pine forest in the general sense is the first time a place has felt familiar to me in months. The smell and the sound of the wind through their spiked leaves is much more like the forests of California. The black tea colored bogs and streams rich in acids and tannins not so familiar. The acidic bogs of the area are perfect for growing cranberries, one of the largest food crops of South Jersey.
Apple Pie Hill Tower, tree with pink blaze of the Batona trail
I love the feeling of being enveloped in a forest but have listened as Tim described his discomfort with not being about to get the lay of the land. This is a sentiment that he’s expressed not just here but in many of these eastern forests. Even in the the naked winter the forests are so thick with trees that one can be on a hillside and not be able to discern much from the “view”. There seems to be an innate human need to be able to see what’s around them, or even better what’s coming. Which is most likely why the single most popular thing in the Pine Barrens is not the pines but the view from the Apple Pie Hill fire tower. Put in place for safety precautions it’s now a place where kids go to party and scribble (petty and uninspired) tags. We walked 3.6 miles of the 50-ish miles that the Batona Trail, which cuts through the length of the park, has to offer to get to the tower from our campsite. The view from the top shows the full expanse of the pine forest and it’s an impressive 360 degrees of pine forest. But I also think it just makes people feel more comfortable to see where they are in relation to the more familiar. A common comment of the view being that one can see Philly and Atlantic City on a clear day (or the lights at night).
Personally I can relate to this in that while I love looking at bodies of water I am often reluctant to get fully submerged because I don’t know what’s down there. This might also be why I’m scared of the dark. Most especially in a place I am unfamiliar with. There are entire societies of creatures that live their whole existence in the cover of darkness. My experience of this only scratches the surface and is often heard rather than seen. This was true in the pinelands when I heard the tell tell Whip-puurrrrr-whew of the Eastern Whip-poor-will (Antrostomus vociferus). A night time hunter, they rest on the ground or low branches where their camouflaging feathers help them to pluck unsuspecting insects passing overhead. The initial thought was that this was a strange sounding owl but once I really listened to the call there was no second guessing my bird. And this forest is FULL of them. The calls range in distance with one usually sounding within a few feet of the RV. Much the way other diurnal birds sing themselves to sleep with the setting of the sun the whip-poor-will seems to do the same with the coming dawn, only in a hurried and repetitive shrill. These wee hour alarms have us reaching for our ear plugs and giggling at the birds seeming anxiety.
A cool refreshing drink
Another part of this forest’s ecosystem that no one can see but all should know about is the 17 trillion gallon aquifer below. The sandy forest above makes for an exceptional filter and this is some of the cleanest fresh water to be found. It’s likely the single most convincing reason that made it possible to save this unique ecosystem from over development and/or continual over harvesting. When taking a cool drink straight from the well pump at the campground I’m reminded that the forest is always so much more than just the trees.
There are many worlds within our world that are right there and yet completely out of reach. The ocean is an obvious one. Yes we can dive and now even send down robotic cameras that can handle the pressure of the deep ocean yet we are constantly learning and finding new creatures. This trip has allowed me many opportunities to find and learn, even about things and places I thought I knew. This has become all that more true now that I am firmly in un-charted territory. A quick couple of visits to New York many moons ago means I hardly know this northeast corner of the country. And yet I’ve got roots here. My mother spent here grade school years in Long Island, her mother is from Rhode Island and her grandmother from New Hampshire. My maternal grandfather was from Ozone Park, Queens. My paternal grandmother grew up in Philadelphia and many distant family members still live there. All those roots and I know nothing of this region’s ecology beyond that it snows in the winter. This is the mindset I’m in when we arrived in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey.
Spider hole in “sugar sand”
The first time hearing about the Pine Barrens was from Tim all of a month ago when looking into our travel route after our planned visit to DC. One doesn’t have to dig into the pages on the internet to find all the easy complaints about the place. It’s flat, sandy, nothing but pine trees and ticks everywhere. Everyone one of these “complaints” are true. The pinelands of New Jersey are, save for a couple of small oaks and white cypress, almost exclusively pitch pine trees. The soil, other than some silty bogs is quite sandy. The soft white “sugar sand” deposited here from both having been under ocean waters in previous warm spells to having glacial till and melt deposition from the last ice age. The lack of topographic relief can also be attributed to the areas previous life under water with little to no opportunity for uplift since. While we haven’t encountered ticks here I do believe that they can be prolific in the area. I suppose it’s one’s perspective that decides whether or not these facts are “boring”. The pine forest in the general sense is the first time a place has felt familiar to me in months. The smell and the sound of the wind through their spiked leaves is much more like the forests of California. The black tea colored bogs and streams rich in acids and tannins not so familiar. The acidic bogs of the area are perfect for growing cranberries, one of the largest food crops of South Jersey.
Apple Pie Hill Tower, tree with pink blaze of the Batona trail
I love the feeling of being enveloped in a forest but have listened as Tim described his discomfort with not being about to get the lay of the land. This is a sentiment that he’s expressed not just here but in many of these eastern forests. Even in the the naked winter the forests are so thick with trees that one can be on a hillside and not be able to discern much from the “view”. There seems to be an innate human need to be able to see what’s around them, or even better what’s coming. Which is most likely why the single most popular thing in the Pine Barrens is not the pines but the view from the Apple Pie Hill fire tower. Put in place for safety precautions it’s now a place where kids go to party and scribble (petty and uninspired) tags. We walked 3.6 miles of the 50-ish miles that the Batona Trail, which cuts through the length of the park, has to offer to get to the tower from our campsite. The view from the top shows the full expanse of the pine forest and it’s an impressive 360 degrees of pine forest. But I also think it just makes people feel more comfortable to see where they are in relation to the more familiar. A common comment of the view being that one can see Philly and Atlantic City on a clear day (or the lights at night).
Personally I can relate to this in that while I love looking at bodies of water I am often reluctant to get fully submerged because I don’t know what’s down there. This might also be why I’m scared of the dark. Most especially in a place I am unfamiliar with. There are entire societies of creatures that live their whole existence in the cover of darkness. My experience of this only scratches the surface and is often heard rather than seen. This was true in the pinelands when I heard the tell tell Whip-puurrrrr-whew of the Eastern Whip-poor-will (Antrostomus vociferus). A night time hunter, they rest on the ground or low branches where their camouflaging feathers help them to pluck unsuspecting insects passing overhead. The initial thought was that this was a strange sounding owl but once I really listened to the call there was no second guessing my bird. And this forest is FULL of them. The calls range in distance with one usually sounding within a few feet of the RV. Much the way other diurnal birds sing themselves to sleep with the setting of the sun the whip-poor-will seems to do the same with the coming dawn, only in a hurried and repetitive shrill. These wee hour alarms have us reaching for our ear plugs and giggling at the birds seeming anxiety.
A cool refreshing drink
Another part of this forest’s ecosystem that no one can see but all should know about is the 17 trillion gallon aquifer below. The sandy forest above makes for an exceptional filter and this is some of the cleanest fresh water to be found. It’s likely the single most convincing reason that made it possible to save this unique ecosystem from over development and/or continual over harvesting. When taking a cool drink straight from the well pump at the campground I’m reminded that the forest is always so much more than just the trees.
As a coastal California native I’ve learned not only to see but appreciate the subtlety of the change in seasons. These last few weeks have afforded me the opportunity to see a slow progression of the shift into spring where the seasons are much more distinct. First with a ground flower here or there such as the red, white and sessile trilliums. Then we started to see a carpet of green under the still bare forest. Slowly the trees started not only to leaf out but trees like the Eastern Redbud (Cercis canadensis) and the white or pink Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida) brightened up our paths.
While we have begun our northern migration ahead of many birds the Cardinal, Mockingbird and Robin sing our wake up calls. Red wing black birds trade off singing with the Grackles and Swallows zip by our heads plucking insects from the air. Butterflies have unfurled their wings to meet the early flowers. We’ve seen the Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio glaucus), Zebra Swallowtail (Protographium marcellus) and beautiful Luna Moth (Actius luna).
Eastern Tiger Swallotail
The warm and cold days trade off in a battle of weather fronts. One day it’s tank tops and the next my down jacket. While trees on the mountain tops are still bare the trees in the lower elevations are now beginning to fill out and it’s getting harder to see through the branches. Green is everywhere. If it’s not in the forest then it’s the bright green grasses these states are famous for.
Whales
On the coast of Delaware the signs of spring show up in a different way. During a cold but lovely walk along the beach we stopped to notice a beached horseshoe crab. In our delay we not only caught the spring migrating dolphins and local porpoises hunting together but we also saw a humpback whale and it’s baby fishing not 40 yards from where we stood. It was an incredible sight.
Soon we’ll be in DC to explore our nations capital. An experience I am truly excited about. It’s sure to be a whole different kind of ecology than we’ve been seeing these last few months.
As a coastal California native I’ve learned not only to see but appreciate the subtlety of the change in seasons. These last few weeks have afforded me the opportunity to see a slow progression of the shift into spring where the seasons are much more distinct. First with a ground flower here or there such as the red, white and sessile trilliums. Then we started to see a carpet of green under the still bare forest. Slowly the trees started not only to leaf out but trees like the Eastern Redbud (Cercis canadensis) and the white or pink Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida) brightened up our paths.
While we have begun our northern migration ahead of many birds the Cardinal, Mockingbird and Robin sing our wake up calls. Red wing black birds trade off singing with the Grackles and Swallows zip by our heads plucking insects from the air. Butterflies have unfurled their wings to meet the early flowers. We’ve seen the Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio glaucus), Zebra Swallowtail (Protographium marcellus) and beautiful Luna Moth (Actius luna).
Eastern Tiger Swallowtail
The warm and cold days trade off in a battle of weather fronts. One day it’s tank tops and the next my down jacket. While trees on the mountain tops are still bare the trees in the lower elevations are now beginning to fill out and it’s getting harder to see through the branches. Green is everywhere. If it’s not in the forest then it’s the bright green grasses these states are famous for.
On the coast of Delaware the signs of spring show up in a different way. During a cold but lovely walk along the beach we stopped to notice a beached horseshoe crab. In our delay we not only caught the spring migrating dolphins and local porpoises hunting together but we also saw a humpback whale and it’s baby fishing not 40 yards from where we stood. It was an incredible sight.
Soon we’ll be in DC to explore our nations capital. An experience I am truly excited about. It’s sure to be a whole different kind of ecology than we’ve been seeing these last few months.
Ol’ Lil’Squatch gets all kinds of attention. Whether it be people in their cars or on the side of the road staring, somewhat slacked jawed, maybe pointing to their buddy and then pointing to Squatch or folks, all men, wanting to chat with Tim about the solar set-up. So this chat with a local on the outskirts of Knoxville was not unusual. When it got towards the end of the conversation though the man explained that he had purchased some flat solar panels from Harbor Freight for when the “Shit hits the fan I’m not bugging out, I’m bugging in, nawmsayin?!” Complete with pointing to the ground while saying bugging iiinnnnnnn. I won’t lie these are the types of people that I have no respect for. While the comment made us chuckle the sentiment does not. It’s like the story where the man is on his roof and the flood waters are rising around him. Many people come by to try and save him from his roof but his response over and over again is that he’s waiting for God to save him. When the waters reach him he says to God why have you forsaken me? God replies I sent you a horse, a boat, a helicopter etc and each time you refused. What more can I do? This is how I feel about people waiting to use something like solar. Does he not understand that the proverbial shit is already hitting the fan? Possibly because as a society we’re unwilling to do anything that might make a difference until it’s way too late.
On April the 11th we pulled the invasive Asian honeysuckle from Raven Run Sanctuary outside of Lexington. Tim mentioned this in his last post but it’s worth a revisit. While we ran short on time to really explore the park we couldn’t help but notice what a beloved park it is considering the creative parking folks did once the lot was full that morning. The event was scheduled by a local couple of Sierra Club members. Naturally us nerds all had some interest in both birds and the flowers that have begun to show themselves for spring. There are some downers to the efforts to remove invasive plants and animals and I can understand the sentiment but, I’m in it for two reasons. First, it’s great exercise that I find way more fun than a gym. Second we need places of refuge. Places where we can do our best to keep invasives out and give local plants and animals a place to thrive.
Ten years ago when I moved to SF one of the first volunteer days I did was pulling french broom from Mt Tam. We worked with a ranger who mentioned that they were just now in the position to start planting some local shrubs and grasses in areas where they had made some real headway against french broom. I asked how long she’d been at it and she said 10 years. Very thoughtlessly I replied that I would have given up and the hurt on her face was palpable. It was a learning moment to say the least. I wonder where they are at now 20 years into the project? This came up again when the woman, Anna, who worked at the park casually threw out that perhaps in 10 years they’ll start to see some real progress. There was no defeat in her voice. Maybe in 10 years I’ll go back to Raven’s Run to see the progress for myself and give the place the time it deserved that day. It may seem like a long time and a lot of work but in just a few hours with a crew of nine volunteers we managed to clear a respectable plot of land.
The media might have us all believing that it’s either black or white, red or blue, coal or solar, logging or recreation. And it’s just not. Granted most of our interactions have been with either outdoorsy folks or fellow volunteers. Since we started our trek through Appalachia we’ve heard time and time again that the big “job creator” is work in outdoor adventures. Whether it be hiking, biking, climbing or river running people are getting outdoors. In Tennessee we spent a long time talking to a ranger at a state park who explained how back in the 70’s the TVA had to shutdown a hydro plant. That meant until it was fixed the river ran free. Business boomed. When TVA went to put it back online the backlash was fierce. Eventually they worked out a deal. That river is the Ocoee and was where the river sports for the 1996 Olympics out of Atlanta took place. Nearby is the Hiawasee river noted for it’s constant flow of water (thanks to the TVA). It’s the river of choice for novice boaters. We also chatted up our ranger in the Smokies when getting our backpacking permit, also a river man. The salesman at REI talked to us for the better part of an hour about his love of photography, Napa and his upcoming river trip in Utah. After our volunteer day at Raven Run the folks who got us all together very sweetly took us out to dinner. We could have chatted for several more hours talking of the places we’ve been and where we should all go next.
It seemed only fair that this should all be burned in a giant heap of coal during our days in West Virginia. Coal country in south WV was a strange place stuck in another time. These towns and homes are depressed, the river is clogged with trash. This is not a business that has much life left in it. While coal “keeps the lights on” it’s not keeping people employed. Coals days are most definitely numbered, at least in Appalachia. However, driving further on to an eastern portion of the state for a bike ride along the Greenbrier River Trail we saw a whole other side to West Virginia. It’s not only beautiful it’s also rich in outdoor activities, giving credit to the state’s slogan of “Wild and Wonderful”. We stopped in a cafe for a beer and bite in Marlinton, WV where we got to chatting with a local couple. It was a lovely and informative conversation with folks who very much think like we do.
Honeysuckle
After West Virginia we moved onto Natural Bridge Virginia and yet another volunteer opportunity to pull the invasive honeysuckle. The honeysuckle not only crowds out and thus shades out native plants it’s suspected to produce an allelopathy to keep other plants at bay. This effort was coordinated by the Nature Conservancy for an Earth Day event. There were almost 100 volunteers for the day for both pulling invasive plants and trail building followed by a nice lunch at the historic Natural Bridge Hotel. The event brought in a large group from a nearby college, a local group of AT trail maintainers, staff from both Virginia senator offices and several others just wanting to help make a difference for the day. I hope everyone there that day took a look around at the work that was accomplished and felt good about the day. Even though there is still much work to be done at Raven Run, Natural Bridge and all the other parks, sanctuaries and preserves it will make a difference even if only a handful of people keep chipping away at it each month.
We’ve enjoyed an endless spring for the last two and half months starting with the first few ground flowers and trees covered in bracts all the way back in Georgia in late March. In the course of that time we’ve moved through valleys, up to mountain ridges, drove all the way to 47th parallel north, back down to the 37th and spent the last two weeks mostly above 8000 ft. Driving up highway 119 from Boulder, CO to our friends house in Nederland we could see the snow on all the high peaks. A week later a bright pop of orange caught my eye as we once again took that trip up. I know it wasn’t there just a few days before. Sure enough huge poppies had bloomed. Higher up in town the fuzzy poppy pods were just beginning to form. All the aspen trees in town shook and shimmied in the breeze but on our drive through Rocky Mountain National Park the aspen trees were working ever so hard to get their leaves out in the short growing period there is to be had that high. With the late snow pack and the deluge of May rain in Colorado the grasses are a bright green dotted and highlighted by the yellows, red, whites, pinks and purples of flowers.
t me wrong it’s a good overall camera however, anytime I want it to do something specific things get weird. Luckily I seem to do ok with the camera for macro images and seeing as how I love taking pictures of flowers I manage a few good pics every now and then.
bud out, was covered in ants, must have had some sticky sweetness to attract them. In attempting to take their picture my eyes got caught a shiny congregation of Dogbane Beetles on the grasses directly behind the ants.
Vagabond Naturalists 
