Between every two pines there is a doorway to a new world.
~John Muir
A few days ago Melissa and I took our first long-ish hike in the park since we moved in. This is a follow-up to her earlier Facebook post about the hike. The original plan was to scope out an area for her upcoming educator trek that neither of us had hiked before. I was thinking maybe a mile or two to see how my back/knee issue would handle it after stressing all those parts during the move. We drove into the park a couple of miles and started at a trailhead above Mammoth.
The start of our hike through sagebrush flats with pockets of forest and a backdrop of mountains and a bull elk (click photos to enlarge)
Right away, Melissa spotted a few bull elk scattered on distant hillsides. I was busy keeping an eye out for interesting insects as we sauntered along taking it all in. The invertebrate photos were added to iNaturalist when I got home to start a record of what amazing small things can be found in this majestic landscape. Here are a few of my favorites (note – identifications on many species of plants and animals in the coming weeks/months may be tentative as we learn more about the diversity of our new surroundings).
Yellow-fronted bumblebeeGoldenrod crab spider with bumblebee preyRocky Mountain Parnassian butterfly caterpillar on stonecropRelict frittilaryEdith’s checkerspotFlame skimmer
We encountered a few people not far into the trail including a couple of hikers and two groups of horseback riders with outfitters. But for the most part it was just us and the scenery. We did run across a bull elk carcass that looked as though it might have been from this past spring/winter (still hair on the carcass, the contents of the rumen was scattered nearby and there are still insect larvae on the skeleton). It was an impressive animal.
Carcass of a bull elk along the trail
At this point, we wanted to creep up over the next hill for the view and so one thing led to another and we just kept going. We made it a loop hike of about 6 miles that took us most of the afternoon and it was glorious.
A view along our hikeA beautiful aspen grove
We both love aspen groves and so we were thrilled to come upon a small stand of tall aspens. Our friend, Dan, taught us long ago that aspens are hot spots for wildlife activity, especially cavity nesting birds. We did spot a woodpecker in the trees but weren’t sure which species. More on that later.
The trail passed through so many different habitat types and the cool shade of the trees was welcome as the afternoon wore on. As we walked along a sloping ridge dotted with Douglas fir and sagebrush, Melissa saw something move as I passed a shrub. We stopped and I spotted a dusky grouse!
Female dusky grouse
These birds are very tolerant of humans so I eased a bit closer to get a better view and just watched as she pecked at grass seeds and other bits of vegetation. Meanwhile, Melissa excitedly whispered that she had spotted our first elk calf of the season (this was the day before the one we saw behind our house from the last post). I looked and was once again amazed at her spotting ability. The calf had been hidden by her mamma in a tangle of shrubs while she went off to feed (elk calves stay hidden until their mother returns). But this little guy flicked its ears a couple of times and that gave its position away to eagle-eyed Melissa.
Melissa journaling about the elk calf she had spotted down near that isolated conifer sapling to the right of the center of this photoThe elk calf in a cropped image taken with my 500mm telephoto Hiking out of the Hoodoos
The last stretch of trail was along a ridge line with great views of the surrounding mountains. When we got back to the car, we took a moment to reflect on what a great hike we had just had only minutes from home and how lucky we are to be in our happy place. And it reminded us of how much we love to just walk in the woods (or fields or mountains…) and observe. If you get out of your car and take a stroll, you never know what you might see but we know you will feel the magic of this place.
Two days later we decided to do a short hike and go back to the aspen grove via a shorter section of trail that came off the loop we had hiked earlier. We walked in and sat down amongst the towering white trunks and embraced the silence broken only occasionally by the wind rustling the leaves and the sounds of insects and birds. We heard house wrens, ruby-crowned kinglets, and a pair of Cooper’s hawks. I started hearing some faint tapping so i looked around for a woodpecker at the edge of the grove since it sounded somewhat distant. I saw no movement but kept hearing the occasional tapping. At one point we spotted a woodpecker on the side of a trunk and it seemed to disappear.
A woodpecker makes an appearance
I eased closer and could hear tapping and realized it was coming from inside the tree! The woodpecker was hollowing out a nest cavity making it sound like it was farther away.
The woodpecker stopped tapping and started throwing out wood chips
Another woodpecker soon came into view and there was a change of duties. The first bird flew out and the second, the male, went in to add to the house cleaning routine.
With one of the birds outside the cavity we identified them as American three-toed woodpeckers. This one is the male with the yellow cap on its head.Both the American three-toed and its close relative, the Black-backed woodpecker, have the unusual trait of having only three toes on each foot compared to four toes on all other woodpeckers in North America. It is believe this gives these birds extra force for drilling power by allowing them to position themselves slightly farther from the tree trunk when hammering. Zoom in and you can see the foot has only three toes
Before leaving, I took a few video clips of this woodpecker cleaning house. I look forward to returning in a couple of weeks to see what they feed their young.
It seems to me that the natural world is the greatest source of excitement…
~Sir David Attenborough
I was awakened this morning about 5:30 a.m. by an elk call that sounded close to the house. I said something and that woke up Melissa who looked out and spotted an alert elk at the base of the cliff behind our house. I walked into the bathroom and saw a gathering of black-billed magpies which is often a sign of a carcass. As I watched, magpies continued to fly in and perch at the top of the cliff. Melissa then spotted two mammals crawling along a ledge on the cliff face – raccoons! I have never seen a raccoon in the park but I had heard they are in town. Having seen many raccoons back east in the woods and along roadsides, it was indeed odd seeing them on the face of a cliff.
I went out on the deck, camera in hand and could only see one raccoon who quickly spotted me and started moving along the ledge. It then did an impressive scramble down the steep face and disappeared into a crevice in the cliff.
A raccoon climbing down the cliff face this morning (click photos to enlarge)
As for the magpies, they quickly dispersed. I suppose it was just them checking in on these two potential predators in their neighborhood. The magpie nest across the street has fledged its young (we counted 5 young the other day squawking noisily in the willows in front of the house).
The cow elk had turned around, still looking up and around and suddenly we knew the reason why…her calf appeared! This is only the second elk calf we have seen this season (more on the first encounter in the next post) and by far the closest.
Cow and calf elk behind the house
You dare not get close to an elk calf as the mothers are very protective. Just last week we had hiked up that same path to the base of that cliff and put out two trail cameras. I think those will now remain unchecked for a couple more weeks. Mother elk stash their young in bushy areas or other hiding places where the calves remain until she comes back to nurse them. And you don’t want to be the thing that disturbs the calf if the cow is anywhere nearby.
We watched this cutie for several minutes as it maneuvered on the slippery slope. The cow was down in a depression but the youngster came up on a small ridge and gave us some great views before they both headed off behind the neighbor’s houses. I’ll be sure to let our neighbors know to be on the lookout and a bit cautious for the next week or so.
Everyone needs a good scratch when you first wake upThe elk calf looking at me standing on my deck in my PJs thinking that guy is going to freeze out here…it’s only 35 degrees this morning!The cow and calf head down slope and soon disappear
Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.
~Henry David Thoreau
We’ve been in our new home a little over three weeks now and we are starting to feel settled. It is a different world to be sure. As I started writing this yesterday, it was 4:30 a.m, Mountain Time and the robins had been singing for about 15 minutes. The brilliant stars start to fade about 4 a.m. as light illuminates the line of the cliff top above our house. Unlike the almost complete darkness of the pre-dawn of our woodland home in North Carolina, here the sky is the thing that signals each morning along with the sharp lines of the mountains that reach up to meet it.
Our days have been filled with getting things arranged in the house and the yard with the occasional outing into the park. We made a trip to Livingston this week (about 50 minutes away) to buy groceries and get some plants (herbs, garden veggies, and pollinator plants). Our nights, well, it doesn’t get dark dark until 9:45 p.m.or so, so we are usually headed to bed by 10-ish.
We have started keeping tabs on the wildlife around the house and have now seen 34 species of birds. The most exciting for us has been a pair of lazuli buntings that move through the vegetation around our house and the neighbor’s. The male is such a beautiful bird and I am anxious to get a photo of him soon. A house wren is a common visitor and sings almost daily from perches around and on the house. One somewhat embarrassing moment came when we thought we spotted the rare crested caracara that has been seen in the park recently soaring high above town. It appeared as a large black bird with a whitish beak. Melissa ran next door to alert the neighbors (who were in the midst of eating dinner). By the time they came over we realized it was a raven with something (maybe a hamburger or hot dog bun) in its beak. So much for proving our naturalist skills:). At the end of this post is a list of bird species we actually have seen at the house or in town thus far.
Male house wren singing (photo by Melissa Dowland) (click photos to enlarge)
We created a water drip feature that we turn on for short periods each day to attract birds and the black-billed magpies have found it and come frequently for a drink. They have a nest in a conifer across the street so we see and hear them often. Unfortunately, we have had two window kills already – an orange-crowned warbler and an evening grosbeak. I have never seen either of these species here in all my years of visiting the park (but I have seen more evening grosbeaks since in nearby trees and at our feeder). We purchased some UV window stickers online and just installed them so we hope that helps.
I placed the dead warbler out in one of our small garden beds and noticed it was gone on the second morning. So when the grosbeak died, I put it in the same spot and put up a trail camera to see what happened. That night, we caught this red fox coming by for an easy snack.
A week later, we found a dead bunny next to the house inside a garden fence. A trail camera revealed visits by a magpie and a red fox before the corpse mysteriously disappeared without the camera catching the perpetrator.
Sagebrush lizards resemble and act like the Eastern fence lizards we saw in NC
Other critters we have seen around the house include an abundance of sagebrush lizards, several mountain cottontails, an unidentified species of mouse, Uinta ground squirrels, mule deer, and our “yard elk” (one likes to nap between our house and a neighbor’s in the shade during the heat of the day). I’m just starting an iNaturalist list of invertebrates we see but have only been able to identify for certain two of the several species of butterflies flitting about (they never seem to land). We did have our first caterpillar this week so we think this place will probably be okay:)
Our first caterpillar was a mourning cloak
We have only made two day-long trips into the park but that should increase now that most of the settling in chores are complete (don’t get me wrong, there are still plenty of things we want to accomplish but most can wait until time and $ are more in sync). We also did a brief side trip to the Beartooth Highway a couple of days after it opened for the season. The Beartooths are a majestic mountain range out the northeast entrance to the park and the road reaches elevations of over 10,000 feet. Due to heavy snow the road usually doesn’t open until mid to late May. This quick video clip shows some of the high snow banks still bordering the highway.
We have also done a couple of post-dinner drives out to Lamar in the beautiful late day light and that is a habit I think we will continue. Here are some of the park highlights…
Young coyote in early morning light
On one morning trip we passed by a few vehicles all looking in one direction so we slowed and Melissa spotted a bear in the distance. One bear soon turned into two grizzly bears near the shores of the Blacktail Ponds.
One of two sub-adult grizzlies at Blacktail PondsRed-tailed hawkMale cinnamon teal in a pond near Slough Creek
The past couple of nights we have eaten an early dinner and then gone into the park out to Lamar Valley (often called the Serengeti of North America for its abundant wildlife). There is a sandhill crane nest just off the road on the way out that usually has several cars of photographers at it (many of them get too close to the nest unfortunately). One evening when I went by there was no one there so I got out and took a few pics from the far side of the road. Most of the pics I post are taken with my 500mm telephoto and a 1.4x teleconverter and then cropped.
Sandhill crane sitting on the nest The nictitating membrane common in bird eyes is visible in this photo. It acts like a protective shield or goggle to protect the eye.
There is a another nesting pair of cranes as you enter Little America. I had stopped to observe them a couple of times but last night they were both out in the short grass around their marsh and they had one colt following them around (colt is the term used for baby sandhill cranes supposedly because they can run within 24 hours after hatching – but this little guy did a couple of face plants in the tall grass as we watched it trying to keep up with its long-legged parents).
Sandhill crane familyWhen one parent and the colt wandered away, the other parent did a short flight to rejoin them.
But what Lamar is really about this time of year are the bison and their babies (called “red dogs”). There are hundreds of them out there now grazing on the lush green grass in the valley along the river. They are causing massive bison jams on the road where you just have to be patient and enjoy the sights and sounds until they decide to cross in front of you. I just love watching these beautiful beasts and the late day light makes it all the more rewarding.
Bison calf portraitBison cow and calf wading the shallows along the Lamar RiverLast night’s view of some of the bison in Lamar Valley
Tonight and Monday night forecasters are predicting a high probability of northern lights in this area so I guess we will be out again enjoying the perks of our new home.
Bird species observed on or from (flying by) our property these first few weeks:
bald eagle, osprey, sharp-shinned hawk, Cooper’s hawk (in town), American kestrel, red-tailed hawk, sandhill crane, Canada goose, turkey vulture, common raven, black-billed magpie, European starling, red-winged blackbird (just down the street), Brewer’s blackbird (in town), Northern flicker, pinyon jay (in November), house wren, Cassin’s finch, lazuli bunting, evening grosbeak, tree swallow, violet-green swallow, orange-crowned warbler, Wilson’s warbler, yellow warbler, Western tanager, American robin, rock dove, Eurasian collared dove, chipping sparrow, spotted towhee, Western kingbird, rock wren, pine siskin
It has been a little over a week in this journey from our beloved woods in North Carolina to a small town at the edge of a place we love – Yellowstone. It has been a very busy several days with us driving two vehicles across country in 4 days and a tractor trailer with all our possessions arriving the next day. The team from TROSA in Durham did a great job loading and unloading our belongings. After they finished, they moved their truck back to the hotel here in Gardiner and we took them on a 6-hour tour of the northern range of Yellowstone. And the park did not disappoint. The guys wanted to see wildlife, and that we did. We saw moose, wolves, grizzly and black bears, coyote, red fox, elk, bison, bighorn sheep, mountain goats, mule deer and more. Beginning the next day, we started the arduous task of unpacking and trying to arrange all the stuff in our new world. A few days later, Melissa’s sister, Stephanie, arrived and the two of the have been on a tear getting things set up and now the house looks like we have been here for months instead of just a few days. Yesterday morning, we wanted to share some sights of the park with Stephanie so we got up at 5 a.m. and headed into the park for our second time since arriving. Once again, the park delivered in spite of the cloudy skies and occasional brief bouts of rain and even some frozen precipitation. In between those two trips into the park, we have even managed to connect with the wildlife of the region from our living room. So, here is a quick summary of our first several days in wonderland.
We don’t need to go far to see wildlife…this cow elk has been spending time right outside one of our living room windows along with an occasional mule deer (click photos to enlarge)A scene from our main living room windows – a herd of elk keeping a wary eye on a grizzly family. We can scan the hillsides near the park entrance from our house and one morning last week I spotted a grizzly sow with two cubs from last year digging for food. At one point she nursed the cubs while lying on her back. This is a heavily cropped image taken from a distance of about a mile.We saw that trio three mornings in a row. One day Melissa spotted one of the cubs climbing a tree. It climbed way up into the tree and then the other cub started to climb but stopped a few feet off the ground (note the second grizzly cub clinging to the tree trunk). Eventually both cubs came down and the family sauntered off. Lesson here – grizzlies can climb, probably not as well or certainly not as often as black bears, but they can. (photo by Melissa Dowland)Our trip yesterday started with some bison and then this black wolf trotting briskly a hundred yards or so off the road.We stopped for some bison watching and then saw some cars lined up along the road in Lamar Valley. We soon spotted a group of 6 wolves of the Mollie’s pack. The Mollie’s are the only pack named for a person (most wolf packs are named for the areas where they establish territories). This pack was named in honor of the late Mollie Beattie, Director of the US Fish and Wildlife Service during the wolf reintroduction.
The Mollie’s typically spend their time in Pelican Valley, where they learned to hunt the primary prey available in the harsh winters there – bison. They have made occasional forays into Lamar Valley over the years, but locals think they now may have a den somewhere near Lamar Valley. They are noticeably large wolves and are known to be efficient hunters. We saw six of the Mollie’s walking on the far side of the river and suddenly start trotting towards a pair of bison. One wolf strayed from the group and five moved in and surrounded the behemoths.The bison responded with tails up and turned to face the wolves. The encounter lasted several minutes with most of the wolves soon realizing these two healthy bison would not be an easy target. The wolves finaly moved off and found their wandering pack mate who had discovered an apparently lifeless bison calf. The group quickly moved in and started feeding while we watched through a spotting scope.
The bison pair came back to investigate while the wolves fed, stopping only a few feet away before turning and walking off. Note the gathering of ravens waiting their turn at the carcass.
We headed off and saw a lot more wildlife including bears and mountain goats, but no moose (the one big critter Stephanie had not yet seen). Back at home we continued setting up the house by hanging artwork and making everything look just right. As we were finishing dinner, our neighbor, Bob, texted that a grizzly sow with two cubs was seen near the park entrance gate and it might be the ones we had seen last week from our house. Though we were pretty tired, we drove to the entrance station (less than 5 minutes form the house!) and spotted the bear which was barely visible through the sagebrush. She was apparently napping and all you could see was a thin line of dark brown indicating her back. After several minutes standing out in the cold we saw heads up…
The sow and one cub look up for their sage bed. They were only about 100 yards off the road but the fading light made it almost impossible to get a sharp photo.The sow starts to lay back to nurse the cubs. This is definitely the same trio of bears we saw last week from our living room but this time they were just a few hundred yards from the edge of town. Here’s hoping they stay healthy and wild.After nursing, one cub rolled around on its back, feet in the air.
I’m typing this in the early hours as I look out at the park with the moon peeking through the breaking clouds. My thoughts are drifting between wondering where those bears are this morning and what’s for breakfast for us. I must admit, that is a nice way to start a day.
Yesterday morning we took what may be our final stroll through our property. Our home is on a little over 14 acres of rolling landscape with big hardwoods, mostly white oak and tulip poplar with some northern red oak and various hickories making up the largest trees. As we walked, I noticed we were both stopping to admire and sometimes touch some of our favorites as a way of giving thanks to their presence.
Melissa admiring the huge white oak on our south slope (click photos to enlarge)
We visited each bench we have placed in the woods over the years and watched and listened for a few minutes before moving on. A variety of migrating songbirds have dropped in these past few days and we heard the songs of many species. Two days ago my list of songsters (aided by the Merlin app) included wood thrush, red-eyed vireo, scarlet tanager, summer tanager, ovenbird, eastern bluebird, black-throated blue warbler, great crested flycatcher, pileated woodpecker, red-bellied woodpecker, Carolina chickadee, black-and-white warbler, American crow, Carolina wren, blue-gray gnatcatcher, hooded warbler, American redstart, tufted titmouse, white-breasted nuthatch, and northern cardinal. Yesterday we heard many of the same species and added a veery and rose-breasted grosbeak. Spring in these woods is a magical time.
First of the year red-spotted purple butterfly
At one spot along the now dry creek, Melissa saw the bright blue flash of a red-spotted purple butterfly, the first one of the season for us. It was sitting in a sunny spot on the creek bottom slowly opening and closing its wings to soak up the warmth. You can’t help but smile when you see such a brilliant blue.
As we approached the back deer fence gate, Melissa touched my arm and showed me a pileated woodpecker that had just flown up off the ground about 50 feet away. We stood there watching this magnificent bird as it hopped from one tree trunk to another and then down onto the ground. Though the bird was largely hidden from view below the downward slope we could see the leaf litter and bark it was throwing up into the air as it searched for a meal.
This female pileated woodpecker spent several minutes with us on our last walkShe takes off to another piece of wood on the ground to search for food
We watched her for at least 10 minutes as she kept hopping from log to tree trunk and finally landed on a series of tree cookies we had laid down years ago to aid in crossing a muddy spot on our trail. They have started to decay and the woodpecker seemed compelled to help that process along, tapping and probing each insect hole in the wood with her long barbed tongue.
Probing the wood for insects
As we watched, she kept coming closer and closer giving us a great view of her feeding behavior. She finally starting moving away from us and eventually flew off toward the creek bottom. Melissa said that, at first, the walk made her sad, sad to be leaving such a beautiful place that we know so well. But our time with the woodpecker had lifted her spirit and reminded us both of what it is we love to do – to be outside and observe nature, especially when that world goes about its business and allows us to feel we are part of it, that we belong. We both realize that our new home is sure to provide countless moments like this and we are excited for the new experiences we will share. And we are thankful for the many special memories our woods have given us over the years including these most recent gifts from a butterfly and a bird.
…I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most impenetrable and to the citizen, most dismal, swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place…I seemed to have reached a new world, so wild a place…far away from human society.
~Henry David Thoreau
My last trips to the magical swamps of the Roanoke River happened these past few weeks. The title of this post is another excerpt from the writings of Thoreau about his fondness for swamps. No doubt, his swamp at Walden Pond was quite different from what we have been experiencing as he was walking and we are paddling for miles through flooded swamp tupelo and bald cypress trees. But the feelings these underappreciated environments evoke are the same – wildness, serenity, and a connection to nature. So, in spite of (or maybe because of) the looming deadline of our move across country, we have spent many recent days soaking in the solitude of this place. This post covers two more recent trips – one with just the swamp queen and myself on the Cashie River and the other with our good friend, Meghan, that went from Williamston to Jamesville.
On our first trip, we camped one night on the Lost Boat platform on the Cashie and explored some side creeks up the river. The wind seemed to be testing us on this trip as we paddled into its gusts much of the two days. But sunset saw a settling and that quiet beauty you can get in such a place.
Moon rise on the Cashie River near the Lost Boat platform (click photos to enlarge)
As usual, the barred owls gave us a nice symphony at our platform through the night. The next morning other birds took the stage with a great crested flycatcher being particularly loud over our tent.
Our first great crested flycatcher of the year
We headed upriver a few miles with an empty canoe to do some exploring (Melissa loves to explore side creeks). Ospreys were quite active and vocal, especially one pair when we paddled past their huge nest that has been there a number of years.
Huge osprey nest on the Cashie
As often happens, we soon spotted a bald eagle in hot pursuit of an osprey carrying a fish. The aerial display of speed and agility was amazing. It went on for quite awhile with the osprey trying every move in the book. The eagle would occasionally fall off a bit but would then kick it into overdrive and get right back on the ospreys tail.
Eagle in hot pursuit of an osprey and its catchThe eagle mirrored every twist and turn made by the osprey
They flew out over the treeline and through the branches we saw the osprey drop its catch with the eagle quickly diving and snagging it mid-air. That’s got to be frustrating for the ospreys!
Of course, there was lots of other bird action as we paddled including double-crested cormorants, a few anhinga, and the sights and sounds of the swamp warblers arriving for the spring breeding season.
The typical cross-like pattern of an anhinga in flightSeveral male prothonotary warblers added splashes of brilliant color to the swamp shorelines as we paddled
Our slow paddle pace allows us to take in the details of the swamp, to appreciate the greening up of this amazing habitat, and to pick out the textures and colors of this magical world.
The resurrection ferns were vibrant after recent rains and adorned so many of the swamp tree trunks and branchesCrossvine blooms were everywhere as we paddled making this the most abundant display of this species I have ever seen
The forecast called for heavy rains on that Friday so off we went for a one night respite at home before returning on Saturday, accompanied by our good friend, Meghan, a newbie to the wonders of the swamp.
The plan was to put in at Williamston and paddle with the current through Devil’s Gut, camping at two platforms before taking out at Jamesville on Monday. We drove two vehicles, and shuttled them so we had a car waiting at the NC Wildlife boat ramp in Jamesville. The current was very fast so our first few miles went quickly. We soon pulled into a side creek and beached ourselves on a floating mud mat against the shore to eat our lunch. We hadn’t been there long when a white-eyed vireo appeared and flitted into its nest under construction on a low limb at the tip of our boats! We watched it come and go adding all sorts of material to its nest. Their nests are typically placed low in a small tree or shrub and are suspended between a small fork in the branches. The nest is made up of fine bark, leaves, roots, paper, and is held together with spider silk and decorated on the outside with lichens, leaves, and moss.
White-eyed vireo with a beak full of nesting material on one of its many trips during our lunchtime stopPlacing the material in the nest with careAs we finished our lunch, the bird gave us the look telling us it was now time to leave.
We quietly paddled down Devil’s Gut observing the army of cypress knees along the edges and and listening to the many sounds of the swamp. There were critters too – a couple of wild turkeys took flight up a side channel, a startled beaver did a belly flop into the water as we came around a bend, and a muskrat didn’t see us until we were on it and then hurried into the water only to the swim right next to our canoe in its escape.
Meghan paddling by a huge bald cypress on one of our side channel explorations along Devil’s GutA muskrat making good its escape
We reached the creek entrance to our first platform in what seemed like record time in spite of our exploring. It had been a chilly day so not much to see in terms of reptiles…tomorrow would tell a different story.
I was the first one awake and was sitting out by the stove with coffee when Melissa walked out of the tent and exclaimed “there’s a raccoon in that tree”. I couldn’t see it from my seat but somehow I had missed it when I first got up (she always seems to spot things now that I miss:). Sure enough, nestled in between three trunks coming up off a tupelo gum stump that had probably been cut decades ago was a curled up ball of fur.
The sleeping raccoon about 40 feet off our camping platform.
We all took way too many photos of this cutie while we sat and ate breakfast and talked about our trip. Every now and then the raccoon would curl up a bit tighter, presumably trying to shut out the sounds from its noisy neighbors. Once in a while it lazily looked over and we all grabbed cameras to get a portrait.
When will those guys be quiet, I’m trying to sleep here…Finally, after about an hour of us getting ready for our day, the raccoon slowly climbed down the trunk and swam off into the swamp to find a more peaceful bedroom.
Meghan said she thought she had heard something scurrying around during the night, but our hanging trash had not been disturbed and we have never had any issues with critters on the platforms in all our years of visiting. But when we got home and were unpacking, I noticed paw prints on our plastic tub that contained our camp kitchen supplies. That little rascal had definitely been on the platform and checked things out but had thankfully not gotten into anything.
Our last day was much sunnier and warmer and that changed the activity on the water…especially the birds, turtles, and snakes. We headed downstream to the Barred Owl platform and were greeted by a large number of the self-proclaimed guardians of logs and stumps, the brown watersnakes, Nerodia taxispilota.
A huge brown watersnake posing on a stumpBest Instagram pose of the day
It is mating season for these common snakes and we started seeing what we called “snake wads” on several logs. More correctly called mating aggregations, these were groups of snakes, often 7 or 8 together, intertwined in one spot. There was usually one large female with several small males in attendance. We started counting snakes along Lower Deadwater Creek and came up with 38 brown watersnakes in a little over a half mile of creek. Impressive!
A snake wad of brown water snakes
All day long we heard warblers and other birds calling from the trees and all day they managed to stay out of reach of my camera. Finally, as the sun was setting and the swamp was turning into its evening shades of grays and browns, a brilliant flash of yellow arrived next to the platform – a male prothonotary warbler. Turns out there were two vying for territory and this one guy chased and sang and then sat on a cypress knee for several minutes, affording me the opportunity to try to get an in focus shot in the dimming light.
Guarding his turf, he kept a sharp eye out for the other intruding maleWhen the other bird showed itself, our guy would fly after it flashing its tail to show his displeasure.
One other critter that was with us on both platforms was the forest tent caterpillar. This is an insect we have seen most springs on the Roanoke and one that can be incredibly abundant. It is a close relative of the Eastern tent caterpillars we see elsewhere in the state in early spring that build the silken webbings in the forks of trees such as wild cherry. This swamp species does not build the tents but is a free-roamer and tends to occur in large clusters, especially on the swamp tupelo trees. Everywhere we went we saw them climbing any vertical surface (including all the corner posts on the platforms) and dropping down from the treetops on silken strands onto everything. I saw hundreds of them just on and around the platform on our last morning. I can’t imagine how many are just in this section of Devi’s Gut but it has to be hundreds of thousands and they can and do defoliate entire sections of the swamp. We wonder what long-term effects this may have on the trees, but I’m sure the caterpillar buffet provides a bounty of food for fish, birds, and other swamp wildlife.
A brown watersnake with a forest tent caterpillar on its nose (photo by Melissa Dowland)
On our last section of Devil’s Gut before hitting the river proper, we were trying to find a barred owl nest cavity that was spotted a few years ago. We stopped and looked for cavity trees in several locations and Melissa finally saw an owl staring down into the shallow waters off a side channel. The bird dropped down and then flew up to a branch and started eating. We weren’t sure what it caught until we looked at blown up images on our cameras – it was a large crayfish.
Barred owl crunching a crayfish
It then flew off. We sat for a few seconds and Meghan saw the bird fly back and appear to disappear. We paddled back in and eventually saw feathers in a hole in a tree. It was tough to tell what was going on but it seems as though the owl was sitting on a nest inside that hollow but had very little room to maneuver. On her next trip with friends a few days later, Melissa confirmed the owl was still there and had two chicks.
Barred owl sitting on nest inside hollow tree with just her wing showing
From there, it was a short paddle out into the Roanoke and down to the boat ramp. We loaded up after doing the return shuttle of vehicles and headed home. Meghan had spotted an owl perched in a roadside swamp during the shuttle so we stopped and took a few pics as we passed by…a fitting end to our trip.
Barred owl sitting low in some young cypress along the boat ramp road
It was both a wonderful and a sad trip for me as it would be my last. We had plans to go with friends one last time but I had pulled a muscle in my back so I opted out and stayed at home. Melissa went back a few days later and I’m glad she did..she is the swamp queen after all:) It is hard to put into words what the swamps along the Roanoke River mean to us. The platforms afford you a unique opportunity to experience the beauty and wildlife of a place that few of us have access to otherwise. Paddling provides the perfect pace to take in the scenery and the feel of the swamp and makes it much easier to hear the sounds and catch glimpses of the many animals that call this place home. I am so glad that years ago I decided to start doing educator workshops with the museum to this incredible part of our state. It has become a beloved part of our many years in North Carolina. We are pleased that it looks to be in good hands with the Roanoke River Partners and the many volunteers that help keep up the platforms as well as the many conservation agencies that are preserving large tracts along these waterways. It has become our favorite camping adventure and we will sorely miss our time in this majestic temple of the swamp.
The beauty of the swamp will stay with us forever (and just may call us back from time to time)
The temple of truth has never suffered so much from woodpeckers on the outside as from termites within.
~Vance Havner
Melissa spotted a pair of pileated woodpeckers out front the other day and we grabbed the scope to take a closer look. They were both pounding on a couple of hickory stumps that we had used several years ago as legs for our campfire ring benches. When they started to decay, I rolled most of them out the side gate where they have served as home for countless critters and as a food source for the woodpeckers. I rolled two into the patch of trees out a front window so we could hopefully see woodpeckers doing just what we watched this week – hammering away looking for bugs. Melissa is much better at hand-holding a phone up to a scope for video so she recorded a few segments of the woodpeckers searching for food.
I slowed the next clip down so you can see the bird’s tongue flicking in and out as it chipped wood away. As we watched, we occasionally saw termites crawl out of the holes made by the woodpecker so we assume that was the main food it was gathering from this effort.
Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.
~Winnie the Pooh
Well, if you didn’t know it before, you will know it now…swamps are Melissa’s (and my) favorite places to camp in North Carolina. And one swamp in particular, the “Amazon of North Carolina”, the massive swamps along the Roanoke River. So, a few days after paddling in Lassiter Swamp at Merchants Millpond State Park, we were off again to paddle a new stretch (to us) of the Roanoke swamplands – the Middle River. Our route over three days would take us down the Cashie River from the iconic Sans Souci ferry to Bear Run, a platform we had never camped on. Then downriver and up Conaby Creek to the Royal Fern platform. We had camped there before and loved it, but had a few concerns because the platform was obviously frequented by some bears which seem to like the taste of treated wood. All of the platforms have been recently renovated so we were anxious to check it out.
Melissa readying the canoe at our launch at the San Souci Ferry (click photos to enlarge)
After getting a shuttle for our truck from our local friend, Heber Coltrain, (he has helped us, mainly Melissa, with workshops over the years), we headed out on a windy afternoon on the Cashie. We tend to paddle slowly and without much conversation as we look for wildlife and soak in the surroundings…a beaver lodge here and there, the greening of the trees along river, and many birds.
A large beaver lodge on the river bankOpening leaf bud of a Water Tupelo Immature Bald Eagle cruising over the river
After passing through the so-called Thoroughfare, we eventually entered the Roanoke River, crossed it and docked at the Bear Run platform for the night.
Bear Run camping platform
The river is wide here and we sat out on the dock watching fish jump, turtle heads appearing seemingly everywhere, and the occasional bird flying downriver for their evening roost.
Sunset from Bear Run
The next morning we were up early and in the canoe as we had a long day ahead with a paddle distance of about 13 miles. We were just upriver from the Plymouth Mill, a major paper mill that has been a huge employer in the region since it began in 1937. It is now operated by the Domtar Paper Company and employs about 350 people. It seems as though the plant runs 24 hours per day based on the sounds we heard through the night. It produces softwood fluff used to manufacture diapers and absorbent hygienic products sold around the world.
Plymouth Paper Mill
We soon turned into the Middle River which has been on Melissa’s bucket list for some time. It is wider than many of the creeks we have paddled in the past and some sections looked like they may have been clear-cut in the not-to-distant past. One thing stood out among the trees – great quantities of Mistletoe. This semi-parasitic plant garners water and nutrients from its host tree by sending root-like structures into the tree’s vascular system. It can also photosynthesize some of its own nutrients.
Clumps of Mistletoe on many of the trees along the riverA wide view of a large clump of Mistletoe (though not as large as it appears in this pic)
Melissa loves to explore side channels on any of our paddles so off we went on one along the Middle River. She suddenly exclaimed “Oh my God, look at that snake!”
The huge snake lounging on a small swamp island
We paddled closer and we couldn’t believe the size of this Cottonmouth. Definitely the largest one both in girth and length either of us had seen – we estimate it was about 4 1/2 inches thick and a little over 4 feet long.
Side view of the thick CottonmouthClose-up of the snake’s keeled scalesThe head of a large Cottonmouth – check out that pupil
We spent a few minutes photographing and admiring this behemoth…what a beauty. As we departed, Melissa spotted another snake (btw, this is a skill she usually does not have, but she really owned it on this trip). A rat snake was clinging to the side of a tree trunk above the water. As we drifted by, it slowly worked its way very carefully to a knot hole and disappeared.
A rat snake we saw crawling on a trunk along the riverThe rat snake’s tail as it glides into the hole
Moving along Conaby Creek, we pulled into a small opening in the forest’s edge (Melissa calls these places “swamp rooms”). She spotted a Green Treefrog clinging to a stem. They have such a great pose.
Green Treefrog covered in swamp debris
While sitting out on the dock at Royal Fern, we saw a Barred Owl fly to a large tree branch and pick at something. It was tough to see in the fading light but we could tell it was something a few inches long and hung from the owl’s beak in a curved fashion. The owl flew to another tree and picked at the object. It kept flying around, carrying it, picking at it, and looking at us. We guessed everything from scat to crayfish claw to an amphiuma, but never really could tell.
A heavily cropped image of the owl and its snack
We were hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the beavers that had constructed the dams above and below our platform, so we sat out on the dock for a long time waiting. A nice Painted Turtle crawled up on the one closest to us and posed for a few seconds before one of us moved and it quickly slid back into the water.
Painted Turtle
Melissa finally spotted something in the water down beyond the beaver dam we had crossed. She whispered “mammal” to me, and we could then tell it was an otter cruising our way.
A River Otter starts to cross a floating log and then sees us and our bright blue canoe in its pathThe otter gave a few snorts, looked around, and then decided to avoid us swamp intruders and turned back. Look at the size of that front paw!
The next morning, we headed up Conaby Creek into a brisk wind. And it does seem that no matter what direction you go, you will always have to paddle into the wind. The sun broke free of the clouds and we enjoyed some great birds along the way. The Osprey were putting on quite a show with their sharp piercing calls and some great maneuvers as they either chased each other, avoided the harassment of Bald Eagles, or were hoping to catch a fish. We had one fly by us very quickly (the wind at its back) carrying a fish.
Osprey toting a fish meal
One osprey kept circling above us, so we stopped and drifted, hoping it had spied a fish and we might get to see its dive up close.
Osprey banking as it looks for fish below
They often hesitate or hover before starting their dive and as we watched, this one kept turning back to the same general area. Suddenly, it folded its wings and dropped. It isn’t easy to follow a rapidly diving bird while drifting in a canoe, but I managed to fire a burst of images and got one nice one as the Osprey was plummeting toward the water. My next couple of shots showed a calm water surface but no bird. Melissa saw it pull up just above the surface and veer off…the fish lives another day.
Osprey diving toward the water
One of the things we loved the most about the paddle along Conaby Creek was the abundance of large Bald Cypress trees.There were stretches with many big old trees along the shoreline including some that had unusual growth forms.
Bald Cypress with unusual branching patternLarge trees growing out of an old bent over cypress trunk
Conaby Creek gradually narrows and becomes a typical winding blackwater creek. We passed a few houses along the creek and knew we were getting close to our take-out spot – a recently opened canoe/kayak launch in Plymouth called Bear Track Landing. It had been an adventure with lots of wildlife, some windy paddling conditions, a few cases of human-derived noises penetrating our environment, but mostly just the sounds of a relaxing paddle in one of our favorite North Carolina habitats — a swamp.
If prisons, freight trains, swamps, and gators don’t get ya to write songs, y’ain’t got no business writin’ songs.
~Ronnie Van Zant
As part of our “farewell tour”, we drove up to Merchants Millpond State Park last weekend. When I was working with state parks, I fell in love with that place and its amazing wildlife and magical tree-scape of old-growth Bald Cypress and Tupelo Gum. Our friends, Floyd and Signa, retired park rangers, had invited us to an oyster roast which was much enjoyed and appreciated. Ironically, of the 20 or so folks there, two are bringing families to Yellowstone later this spring…indeed, all roads do lead to Yellowstone, especially for people that love public lands and wildlife. We camped Saturday night at the family campground and on Sunday launched our canoe into the still waters of the millpond.
We joined a friend from Vermont that visits the park every year from his home in Vermont and paddled slowly up the millpond toward my favorite destination, Lassiter Swamp. Northern Parula and Yellow-throated Warblers provided the soundscape as we paddled with occasional sightings of other birds like an Anhinga, Bald Eagle, Canada Goose, and Great Blue Heron. When we entered Lassiter Swamp, we were alone, just our canoe and the sights and sounds of this otherworldly place.
Melissa paddling as we enter Lassiter Swamp (click photos to enlarge)
Lassiter Swamp is at the upper end of the millpond. A little over halfway up the millpond, the trees become less abundant and you can see a channel of deeper water meandering toward the swamp. As you get closer, you need to choose your way more carefully as some channels lead to dead ends into thickly vegetated areas that can make paddling difficult. But once you enter, you feel you are in a different world. Bald Cypress and weirdly contorted Tupelo Gum surround you, the gum trees having been deformed by the growths of semi-parasitic Mistletoe. It can be a ghostly landscape and, if you have that sort of imagination, there are monsters watching you from the trees. But to us, it is a magical place of unique beauty.
Swollen tree trunkSculpted tree basesThe haunting beauty of Lassiter Swamp
A short way into the swamp, I saw an American Bittern fly up off a large mat of aquatic vegetation. In rapid succession, three more bitterns flushed from that area. In all my years of paddling the millpond, I could not remember seeing a single American Bittern at the park, let alone four! One of the well-camouflaged birds landed after a short flight and was hidden behind some trees. We continued paddling and saw it catch something – a large crayfish!
American Bittern tossing its crayfish snack
We slowly drifted while watching it trying to swallow its meal. It appeared to want to dine alone and flew a short distance to a group of trees trunks.
Bittern going through the fly-through at the crayfish fast food joint
It landed after a short flight, giving us a great view of this beautiful bird and ts hapless prey.
American Bittern right before gulping down its swamp crayfish salad
We continued silently paddling upstream, absorbing the scene before us and listening to the quiet song of the swamp. Beaver sign was everywhere along the route and we occasionally had to paddle in high gear to cross over a shallow gap in a beaver dam.
Beaver chew marks adorned many of the gum trees in the swamp
It’s always advisable to look closely before crossing any dam, especially if it requires a brief disembark to pull the canoe across. You might find yourself in the company of another camouflaged swamp dweller, a Cottonmouth.
One of three small-ish Cottonmouths we encountered
We saw three of these snakes within about 15 feet of one another, all eyeing us without moving as we paddled by. Though venomous, they tend to not be aggressive, and, if you pay attention, you can enjoy their presence without any problems. We also saw a water snake doing its best imitation of a Cottonmouth a little farther up the swamp. I believe it was a Brown Water Snake though Northern Water Snakes tend to be more common here.
A non-venomous water snake basking on a log in the swamp. Note the differences in the eye (round pupil when you zoom in here) and head compared to the venomous Cottonmouth.
The occasional Wood Duck with its “oo-week, oo-week” call flushed out ahead as we paddled and the taps of woodpeckers echoing through the trees provided the percussion background notes. We soon spied some tiny ripples in the still water to the side and saw a dragonfly struggling on its back on the water surface, its wings adhering to the surface tension of the dark water. I lowered my paddle underneath and lifted it up and over to the canoe. I put a finger down and the insect grabbed on and turned itself upright. I placed it in the canoe to dry off. A few minutes later, I saw it vibrating its drying wings and when I put my finger close, it grabbed on, continuing to vibrate, and then took off. A swamp connection was now complete.
The rescued dragonfly
We finally reached a beaver dam that might require a portage and, looking at the time, we reluctantly turned back and started drifting along with the slow current taking it all in, perhaps for the last time. I glanced downstream and saw a River Otter poised on a bright green mossy log, staring at us. By the time I got the camera up, it had slid into the water and was swimming at us in typical otter fashion, head low, its face reflected perfectly in the black waters of the swamp.
A River Otter provided a lasting memory for us
And then, again in typical otter behavior, it bounced up and down in the water stretching its neck up and snorting at us before disappearing beneath the water with a plop.
The otter getting a better look at us swamp intruders before disappearing
It is amazing how far and how quickly they can swim underwater. The otter seemed to have tired of us slow swamp swimmers, and simply vanished, leaving us once again in our solitude. As we paddled back, so many memories of this special place flooded back into my head. They reminded me of how grateful I am this place is now protected as a state park. I was also thankful that people like Floyd and Signa and all the park staff I have known have been the caretakers of such magical places that continue to sing to all that take the time to listen.
I’m glad the Covid-19 shutdown began in March. April is the best month to be home. Twenty-five years of gardening – not the traditional type of gardening; Mike’s gardening is more like an attempt to create a mountain cove forest in the side yard – has led to a beautiful array of native wildflowers. April is the best because, living in the woods, spring ephemerals, those small-but-showy wildflowers that bloom before the trees leaf out, do much better than more traditional garden plants.
So when the world stopped and we all hunkered down at home, I found myself sitting on one of the larger rocks in the attempt-at-a-dry-streambed along the south side of our house observing wild columbine, Aquilegia canadensis.
The drooping red flowers of our southeastern columbine almost seem to float above the ground, hanging from thin stems. They start as a nodding pale green bud, a bit smaller than your pinky nail. As they age, they expand and redden, and yellow pistils emerge from the tip of the flower, even before it is fully open. Bulbous, spurred petals extend upward as sepals open and stamens uncurl to release pollen. Spent flowers shed their sepals and petals, and the five ovaries, each tipped with a remnant style, rotate upright to eventually ripen into brown cups filled with poppy-like seeds.
Columbine is the reason we moved back to the house that Mike and his ex-wife built. That mist of red flowers, hovering above dots of blue phlox and spears of foamflower, the scent of pinxter azalea in the air, and the wheat-tee-oh call of a hooded warbler echoing up from the ravine – I just couldn’t bear that this was something Mike had had to give up.
It’s one thing to leave a house, even one you’ve designed to fit your style and wishes perfectly. It’s another to leave the living, breathing thing that is a garden. Especially when it’s filled with plants like trout lily and bloodroot that may take seven or more years to flower, and that now have spread with profusion through the yard, putting on a show to rival the wild places that it was meant to mimic. So when he had to leave, it broke my heart for him. And when the opportunity came to move back I didn’t hesitate, even though I knew it would never feel as much ours as his.
In March 2020, Mike and I had planned a long-anticipated trip to Nebraska. This may seem as unlikely destination at that time of year, but as naturalists and wildlife enthusiasts, it was a perfect spot for us. Each year, hundreds of thousands of sandhill cranes linger along the Platte River on their northward migration from wintering grounds in the southwest to breeding areas in the north. The shallow, braided river bordered by wet meadows and cornfields provides the respite they require on the long trip: a safe place to roost at night and plenty of insects to refuel.
For a period of three or four weeks, the evening skies are filled with the silhouettes of family groups of cranes, and the sound of their rattling calls echoes across the landscape. As they drop towards the river, they set their wings and kick their gangling legs beneath their body, resembling witches patrolling the skies on Halloween. Where one lands gently on the mud others follow suit until before long the river is teeming with birds calling to one another, jumping, and dancing. At times, they even seem to flow like the river as they seek a more favorable spot. They call through the night, settling a bit at times but never quieting, until at dawn, as the light of the rising sun highlights the red patch on their heads, they burst off the river with a crescendo of wingbeats and calls.
Of course, Mike and I put off our Nebraska trip when the pandemic hit and things around the world closed down, even the isolated two-person riverside blinds we had planned to spend the night in to view the cranes. It took four years to find the time to reschedule that trip, but we finally made it in late March 2024.
When we returned to North Carolina in the first week of April, we discovered that a tree limb had fallen on the deer fence that protects about an acre of our yard, the area that Mike had painstakingly planted and tended for so many years. It looked like someone had taken a weed-whacker to the garden. Almost every single columbine stem, emerging from winter dormancy and just beginning to bloom, had been eaten. We were sick at heart. One flower remained, floating on an elegant stem, hovering above the ruins of the garden. As the weeks of April went by, the columbine made an admirable effort, each plant putting on a few small blossoms. But the prolific display I had come to expect and love was not to be.
Mike and I are together because of Yellowstone National Park. Years spent crafting and leading trips for educators together deepened a love for that place and for each other. On our very first trip together, we sat into the late hours of the night at a picnic table in front of the Roosevelt General Store talking about everything from our views on abortion to office politics to our hopes and dreams of one day living in a place as wild as Yellowstone.
I’ve never quite been able to put my finger on what it is about Yellowstone, but it put its hooks into both of us. I think it’s something to do with the fact that we are just one small piece of the huge puzzle that is the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem and, in fact, we are only visitors there. Yellowstone belongs to the wildlife; it belongs to itself.
There’s nothing quite like sitting silently in the sagebrush, its pungent aroma permeating the senses, watching a cow bison lick clean its newborn orange calf, umbilical cord still hanging beneath its belly. Or, weeks later, watching an abandoned calf struggle for days in an open meadow until one morning, ravens and magpies marked the area where the calf had been. We hiked out to the site and found the remains of a cow. Nearby lay the baby’s carcass, its legs ending in tiny hooves. It’s not an easy place, Yellowstone; but its wildness pulls us.
And so, as we make plans pursue our longtime dream and move to Yellowstone, to see the subtle ways it shifts through the seasons with a depth our previous visits have not allowed, we will stay in North Carolina for one more columbine season. One more chance to see the clouds of red blossoms above divided leaves. One more hummingbird threading its long bill into the flower’s spurs, seeking the nectar reward deep within. One more chance to see the petals fall as the seeds ripen, then disperse.
Roads End Naturalist 