Surely no flower of the year can vie with this in spotless beauty. Its very transitoriness enhances its charm.
~ Mrs. William Starr Dana in How to Know the Wild Flowers, 1917
Bloodroot flowers are beautiful, yet brief (click photos to enlarge)
Twice this past week I came across one of my favorite wildflowers, Bloodroot, Sanguinaria canadensis. When open, the pure white flowers of Bloodroot are large and easily seen compared to the tiny blossoms of many of the other woodland spring wildflowers. But look fast, as each flower typically only lasts a couple of days before a slight breeze, rain, or other environmental disturbance causes the petals to drop. The flowers produce no nectar so any pollinators are either fooled by the showy blossoms or come to gather the pollen. As with several other early spring bloomers, Bloodroot can self-pollinate. This beautiful specimen was one of three seen at a short hike at Johnston Mill Nature Preserve in Orange County, one of several properties managed by the Triangle Land Conservancy.
Bloodroot bud extending beyond its protective leaf
This otherwise delicate flower is named for the blood-red juice that escapes if you pick a leaf or cut into the rhizome. Native Americans used it as a dye and body paint and it is used now in some toothpaste brands to reduce plaque growth and fight decay. On the hike last week at Pilot Mountain State Park, we found a solitary Bloodroot growing on a steep bank above a stream. It was a single bud, seemingly protected by a curled leaf wrapped around the stem.
Bloodroot leaf back lit by the setting sun
After the flower blooms, the leaf expands and often becomes horizontal. A couple of years ago, I came across a single leaf on a steep slope at Swift Creek Bluffs Nature Preserve, another Triangle Land Conservancy property. It glowed in the low angle light, highlighting the textured network of veins in the odd-shaped leaf. It was one of those moments when you simply are in awe of a small bit of nature. Even though their brief show is quickly passing in this part of the state, I hope to see more Bloodroot on upcoming trips to the mountains, as spring progresses up the slopes. Each encounter is time-well spent with a ephemeral woodland beauty.
Yadkin River at Pilot Mountain State Park (click photos to enlarge)
There is, indeed, something magical about a river. It is the lifeblood of the land. It carries your mind to places yet undiscovered and brings surprises to your doorstep. It is a gentle, reassuring friend in its constant murmurings, or a raging threat to be respected and sometimes feared. And, like any body of water, it is a haven for hidden life. On a hike along the Yadkin River this past weekend, I came upon signs of abundant life that had left the river to risk exposure in the world above.
Stonefly exuviae on tree trunk along the Yadkin River
The tree trunks and rocks along the river were adorned by hundreds of stonefly exuviae. Such a strange word, exuviae, almost otherworldly, as were the dried, lifeless forms on the river bank. Exuviae is derived from the Latin, exuere, meaning to remove. It is defined as the cast off skins or other coverings of animals. This shed skin shows the typical immature stonefly body plan – a somewhat flattened shape to enable it to better cope with the currents, stout legs with two claws at the tip, and two tails (cerci).
Stonefly exuviae piled on top of one another
The exuviae were thick on some tree trunks and even piled on top of one another in a few places, as if there had been a mad dash to escape the rushing river. I am not sure which species this is, but they all looked alike, so I imagine there had been a mass emergence of the aquatic immatures of a single species over a short period of time. This is typical behavior for stoneflies and mayflies as they emerge to transform to the adult form and mate. Fly fishermen are well aware of the so-called “hatches” of various species of aquatic insects and have developed an entire artistic culture around mimicking the colors and patterns of each species with artificial “flies” designed to entice hungry fish to strike.
Immature stoneflies are called naiads (you will hear some refer to them as nymphs) and live in well-oxygenated waters (streams and rivers and some lake shores) for one or more years depending on the species. This one was a large species, the exuviae being over an inch in length. Many of the larger species are carnivorous, preying on other macroinvertebrates living in the river.
A pair of stonefly naiads showing the slits on their “backs” where the adults emerged
Like other arthropods, the naiads of stoneflies must periodically shed their exoskeleton so they can grow. This may happen from 12 to 24 times depending on the species. When the time is right, the last stage of the naiad crawls out of the water and clings firmly to a surface and begins its final transformation. A longitudinal slit forms along the top of the thorax and a winged adult crawls out, leaving the “skeleton” behind. Since I do not live near suitable habitat, I rarely see the short-lived adults, but have found many exuviae over the years as I walk along the edges of streams and rivers.
Stonefly naiad showing linings of trachea in cast skin
The sheds contain an amazing amount of detail such that I could probably identify the maker to species with the right field guide. Noticeably visible against the dry, gray skin are some white filaments near the head. These are the linings of the trachea, part of the respiratory system of the insect, which are also shed during each molt. Many species of our stoneflies emerge in late winter and early spring and the number and amazing detail of all the exuviae indicated that this had been a recent event. If only I could have witnessed it. But seeing the result is also amazing, as the evidence may only last a few days or weeks depending on the weather. And the abundance of exuviae is a good sign that this stretch of the Yadkin is in pretty good shape, as stoneflies are generally indicators of good water quality. Sadly, far too many of our waterways are being threatened by excess sediment, toxic pollutants, or other human-caused factors. All of us need to spend more time with our rivers, get to know them, and appreciate the life-giving qualities they possess. Perhaps then we will care enough to learn how we can better protect them.
The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size.
~Gertrude S. Wister
Spring is a wonderful season for so many reasons, not the least of which is the explosion of wildflowers that spreads across our state beginning in February and lasting through May. One of the earliest of these beauties is Hepatica.
Hepatica flower just starting to open a couple of weeks ago here in the woods in Chatham County (click on photos to enlarge)
I saw my first Hepatica flower here in the woods near the house on March 11.
A patch of Round-lobed Hepatica at Pilot Mountain State Park
On my trip to Pilot Mountain State Park this past weekend, there were many patches of Hepatica just begining to bloom on steep slopes near the oxbow pool and along a small stream we explored. Spotting them peeking out of the leaf litter is one of the simple joys of a walk in the woods this time of year. The small flowers are easily overlooked if you walk too quickly, but once seen, they demand that you get down on the ground for a closer look. Combine that with the amphibian eggs and larvae we saw, and you have the perfect start to the season.
Hepatica leaf from last year. Older leaves have splotches of purple on them and are reddish-purple underneath.
The word hepatica comes from the Greek word hepar, meaning liver. The three lobes and the purplish color of older leaves do somewhat resemble a liver and this plant was once used to treat liver ailments. Herbalists once believed in the so-called Doctrine of Signatures, in which plants that had any resemblance to human body parts were thought to be useful in the treatment of ailments of that part of the human body.
Hepatica leaves are evergreen with the ones you see early this spring being last year’s leaves. They no doubt are able to photosynthesize on warm winter days and then go full tilt in early spring before many other woodland ephemerals are even out. This may give them a head start on many of the other spring wildflowers. The old leaves die back and new ones emerge following the flowering.
The small, delicate flowers of Hepatica are usually lavender to blue in color although I have found some that are pinkish or almost all white. They vary in number from 6 (the most common number) to 8 or more. And it turns out they are not what they appear to be – what look like petals are technically the sepals – Hepatica has no true petals. And the three fuzzy things beneath the flower that look like sepals are actually bracts, or specially modified leaves. But it really doesn’t matter to a pollinator or a woods-walker looking for signs of spring.
Hepatica flowers can vary in color and the number of petal-like sepals
Spring comes earliest to the bottoms of stagnant pools – there no cool winds blow – no hoar frosts penetrate – but they grow protected as under a glass. There are fewer disturbing influences to rob them of the full advantage of the sun’s increased altitude.
~Henry David Thoreau
Conservation groups, in partnership with Partners in Amphibian and Reptile Conservation, are designating 2014 as the Year of the Salamander (http://www.parcplace.org/news-a-events/2014-year-of-the-salamander.html). So, naturally, one of my naturalist friends has decided this is the year to see as many of North Carolina’s salamanders as possible. With that in mind, a few of us went to Pilot Mountain State Park this weekend in search of whatever amphibians we could find.
Big Pinnacle at Pilot Mountain State Park (click photos to enlarge)
While many visitors simply drive to the summit and gaze out across the valley, or enjoy the view of Big Pinnacle, we were looking for things in the low country, in the Yadkin River section of the park. I had been to this section only once, years ago, when working for the state park system as a naturalist, so it was a great chance to do some exploring.
Oxbow pool along Horne Creek
Walking along Horne Creek we came upon an oxbow that is now an isolated woodland pool, perfect for amphibians. An Upland Chorus Frog slowly called but soon fell silent as we approached…a good sign.
Pool reflection
These woodland pools, especially those devoid of fish, are incredible habitats for a wide variety of organisms from macro-invertebrates to frogs and salamanders, They are also beautiful woodland mirrors that reveal a multidimensional world as I stare into the surface, at first seeing only the trees above, and then the dark bottom, covered in leaves. As I walked along the pool edge, I could see a few Water Striders, but little else, until I got to an area where a cluster of sticks protruded from the pool’s surface – amphibian egg masses! At first glance I thought they were Spotted Salamander egg masses, but my friend, Megan, pointed out they were Wood Frog eggs.
Wood Frog egg mass
Compared to the egg masses of Spotted Salamanders, the Wood Frog egg masses tend to be more globular, somewhat larger, and lack the stiff outer gelatinous matrix of the salamander eggs. There were several blobs of eggs attached to the twigs, with some appearing recently laid, and others more developed. As they age, the eggs are colonized by a symbiotic algae, Oophila amblystomatis, which imparts a greenish color to the cluster. This same algae colonizes Spotted Salamander eggs and is believed to utilize some of the waste from the developing eggs while providing some oxygen for them.
Wood Frog egg mass colonized by algae
The Wood Frog egg masses also tend to flatten out at the surface of the pool as they age. While staring at one I noticed some movement – there were Marbled Salamander larvae resting on them. Marbled Salamanders lay their eggs in the fall as these pools fill with rainwater, and their larvae are well-developed predators by the time many of the other amphibian species start to hatch. Looking down I saw one of these tiny pool tigers swim up to an egg mass and position itself, just in case there was an early hatching by a tasty Wood Frog tadpole. The more mature green egg masses had many more Marbled Salamander larvae in attendance (look for the dark elongate shapes in the photo above).
Marbled Salamander larva on Wood Frog egg mass
Since the Wood Frog tadpoles tend to cling to their egg mass for a few days after hatching (to feed on the algae), it is a perfect place for the Marbled larvae to hang out. The hatching frog tadpoles are weak swimmers and easy prey.
Wood Frog tadpole at hatching
I gently scooped up one recent hatchling for a quick photo. Luckily for the frogs, each egg mass contains a few hundred eggs, which should be enough to ensure survival of at least some of the tadpoles.
Woodland ephemeral pools are critical habitats
I love spending time near these pools, waiting, watching, listening – there is so much life to be found. Yet these are often some of the first habitats destroyed when we alter the landscape. I have witnessed once thriving amphibians pools destroyed by nearby earth moving which forever alters the drainage pattern or by intentional draining due to concerns about mosquitoes. In fact, the thriving community of predators in a typical woodland ephemeral pool usually means few or no mosquito larvae can survive. And without the woodland mirrors, both our forests and our natural heritage are diminished.
I encourage you to get out in the next few weeks and sit by the edge of a woodland pool and marvel at the life it contains. But, beware, anyone seeing you at such a pool may start to wonder, as did a neighbor of Thoreau’s back in 1858…
I learn that one farmer, seeing me standing a long time still in the midst of a pool (I was watching for frogs), said that it was his father, who had been drinking some of Pat Haggerty’s rum, and had lost his way home. So, setting out to lead him home, he discovered that it was I.
While out working in the yard yesterday I saw one of the early signs of a woodland spring, the first Falcate Orangetip butterfly. These dainty white butterflies flit through the woods for only a few weeks each year searching for mates and plants in the mustard family on which to lay their eggs. But it was almost two weeks ago I saw my first butterfly of the season. A Mourning Cloak danced silently through the naked trees and landed on a maple to feed on sap. It was late in the afternoon, one day after a brief snow. The birds were still crowding at the feeders, leaving thoughts of a new nesting season behind after yet another cold spell. And yet, here was a butterfly, probably one that had spent the winter huddling in darkness under some loose tree bark or even under a fallen log. Two days later, I added two more species to the early spring butterfly count – an Eastern Comma and a Question Mark. Both of these species, like the Mourning Cloak, are among the few that spend the winters here in NC as adults. They are often seen darting through the woods on warm days in late winter, searching for sustenance amongst the bare trees. This winter has been a cold one and the inaugural butterflies have been slow to awaken. But now, their silent wings are beating, carrying the warm days of spring a little closer.
Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.
~Langston Hughes
Several times this winter I have heard that familiar thud that means a winged beauty has collided with my window. A quick glance shows the track left behind by such a collision – a few feathers stuck on the glass.
Feathers on window pane (click photos to enlarge)
Luckily, at my windows, it is rarely anything more than an interruption in the bird’s burst of flight. But, nationwide, that is certainly not always the case. I was stunned when I saw a recent report providing evidence of the extent of bird mortality due to window kills. In a recent paper published in the journal The Condor, researchers estimated that between 365 and 988 million birds die from crashing into windows in the United States each year. While that is a large range, the point is that significant numbers of birds die each year by crashing into our structures, putting window collisions behind only cats as the largest source of human-related threats that kill birds. One interesting finding is that roughly 56% of mortality occurs on buildings that are 4 stories or less in height; 44% at residences, and less than1% at high-rise skyscrapers. The full report is at http://www.bioone.org/doi/abs/10.1650/CONDOR-13-09. It would be interesting to see if homes surrounded by trees have a higher incidence of bird collisions than those in open areas. Looking at a window from the outside, it is easy to see how a bird in flight, particularly one that has been startled at a feeder by a potential predator, could easily mistake the reflection in a window for safe passage through some branches.
Reflection of trees in my window
I always check to see if a bird has been stunned by a collision, and this week I did find one. So, I went outside to see if I could help. Years ago, my good friend, Paris Trail, shared a rehabilitation method he had used successfully on many birds that hit his woodland windows over the years. If the bird is alive (open eyes are a good sign of this), gently pick it up and bring it inside. It turns out that loss of body heat is a big killer of window-stunned birds, especially in cold weather. The American Goldfinch that hit my window was only slightly stunned, so I skipped one treatment I usually give to such birds – I turn on the faucet so just a trickle of water is coming out. Then I place the birds beak in the trickle for a quick sip (or splash).
This bird was stunned after hitting my window
I then place the bird in a grocery bag and roll the top so it can’t escape.
Paper bag with stunned bird in it
The bag then goes in a quiet, preferably dark, place like a closet for several minutes. This helps the bird calm down a bit and rest. After 15 minutes or so, or until I hear the bird moving around in the bag, I pick up the bag and take it outside (you don’t want the bird escaping into your house). I open the bag, point it out toward the woods, and the bird usually flies out. I have found this method to be very successful in helping stunned birds survive their encounter with a deceptively solid piece of woodland scenery. For some tips on how you can make your windows more bird-safe, see http://www.humanesociety.org/animals/resources/tips/bird_safe_windows.html.
Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.
~Robert Frost
I went out before dawn this morning to get some firewood and skidded on a thin sheet of ice that had formed overnight on the deck. The dreaded freezing rain had bent over the shrubs near the deck as the thermometer hovered just below freezing at 31 degrees. I quickly started a pot of coffee because my place has a bad habit of losing power in heavy wind, snow, or ice. But, as the faint light of morning filtered through the forest, the power remained, and I could see a world transformed by the hand of a frozen sculptor. I wandered out to the garden to stock the feeders and was greeted by frozen plum flowers and tangles of icy grape vines.
Icicle hanging from a branch (click photos to enlarge)Plum blossoms in iceIce covering grape vine
A walk down the road showed the pines were kneeling before the ice gods and the bamboo was all subservient to the power of the frozen rain.
Young pines bending under the weight of the iceBamboo bows to the power of the ice
The meadow grasses under the power line were dazzling with diamond necklaces.
Grass seeds in iceGrass loop
On the way back home, I spotted some deer searching for a blackberry cane popsicle under the power line. They glanced my way and then faded into the frozen arches.
White-tailed Deer in icy meadow
And even in the midst of this cold and dreary morning, a closer look revealed the promise of spring, which is only a few days away. You gotta love North Carolina.
The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.
~Henry Van Dyke
About two weeks ago, I blogged about what I thought would be my last snow of the season. The day I posted that topic, it snowed in the mountains of NC, and parts of the Piedmont were hit with a terrible ice storm that had thousands without power for several days. The next day, temperatures climbed to near 70 degrees and I saw my first butterfly of the season, a Mourning Cloak. After several days of about or slightly below normal temperatures, another twist in our weather took place today. It started snowing here at the house after a mix of freezing rain and drizzle most of the morning. The tiny spiders that have been out and about spinning their webs probably did not have ice crystals and snow on their capture list.
Spider web with ice pellets (click on photos to enlarge)An icy web stands out in the meadow
While the spiders may have been hiding, the birds were definitely not. The suet feeder was especially active as some of the early migrant warblers went about searching for food in the absence of insects and the scarcity of late winter berries. About a month ago, I participated in the Great Backyard Bird Count (http://gbbc.birdcount.org/), an annual citizen science program where you record the greatest number of individuals of each species you see at any one time while observing an area. Back then, I recorded a maximum of two Yellow-rumped Warblers while observing my feeders. In the bout of snow and sleet this morning, there were well over a dozen at my suet feeders, along with eight or nine Pine Warblers and individuals of a few other species.
Warblers at the suet feeder in late season snow and ice
And the Yellow-rumps are sporting more and brighter patches of yellow in preparation for their annual breeding season rituals. Maybe this really is the last snow and spring is just waiting around the corner. I guess March Madness doesn’t just refer to basketball in this part of the world.
A track is a window to the past of an animal. Look at the ground as if it were a manuscript of the animal’s life.
~Tom Brown
I took advantage of the warm weather yesterday and walked down the power line to a beautiful tract of woods I like to visit. It is a fairly open forest of many acres with rolling terrain, rocky outcrops, and two small streams that join near the edge of the power line. The diversity of plant life and the presence of the streams makes for good wildlife habitat.
Open woodlands about a mile from where I live (click to enlarge photos)One of two small streams in the open woods
While I did flush a lone Woodcock along the stream above, I didn’t see a lot of wildlife on this particular walk. But there were plenty of signs of life. The larger stream has many small sand bars along its passage through the trees and these read like a guest book of who has recently passed this way. As I looked down, the tracks brought back memories of the times I had seen the authors of these pages in the book of the forest. And I wondered what they had been up to when they wrote these quotes in the sand.
White-tailed Deer trackRaccoon and Gray Squirrel tracksCoyote trackWild Turkey track
Even though I have never seen anyone else in these woods on my many visits, I’m afraid there are other signs that indicate both their presence and impact. They include thoughtless “nature vandalism”, like carving initials on the smooth bark of an American Beech tree, or leaving what I presume was a bait bucket from some deer hunters (don’t get me started on my opinion on the use of bait in hunting).
Tree graffiti – the all-too-common evidence left by thoughtless visitors to the forestI assume this was a bait bucket left behind by deer hunters that also have a tree stand in this patch of forest
Other signs of human activity may be a little harder for the casual visitor to see. There have been heavy rains these past few weeks and one of the streams has noticeable deposits of coarse sediment in the stream bottom and along its banks.
Sedimentation has impacted one of the small streams in the forest
While it provided fresh substrate for the writings of the wildlife that had walked this way, it also is indicative of human activity upstream (most likely some sort of disturbance to the soil and vegetation). Unfortunately, it is something that is not a good sign for life in this small stream in the long run. The sediment will eventually smother bottom-dwelling invertebrates and other stream life resulting in a loss of diversity in this otherwise relatively pristine habitat. I hope that in the future there will be more vegetated buffers along our waterways and increased vigilance on our part in making every effort to reduce sedimentation and other pollutants from entering our streams. When that happens, that will be a good sign for all concerned.
What good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
~John Steinbeck
Over the weekend I made a quick trip to my parents’ home in southwest Virginia . Like many regions in the East, their area has had a long cold winter. But, I am one of those strange few that likes cold weather. And this was the first year in several that I did not get my snow fix by spending time in Yellowstone, so I was happy to see a few flakes start to fall on Monday. This might be my last snow for this winter (although as I write this, I am hearing about chances for a wintry mix in portions of the state later tonight). It began slowly, about mid-day, then picked up in intensity.
The snow starts to fall (click photos to enlarge)
I did not have my camera on this trip so I grabbed my iPhone and walked down the hill toward the river below the house. This is the South Fork of the Holston River. One of three major branches of the Holston River, the South Fork flows over 100 miles through the hills and valleys of southwest Virginia before joining the North Fork near Kingsport, Tennessee. This serene waterway forms the back boundary of my parents’ property and provides a glimpse into the former wildness of these mountains amidst the current patchwork landscape of pastures and wood lots.
A large tree leaning out over the river
I love the quiet and the starkness of a snow, especially along a river. Black and white images appeal to me in these settings, helping to define the world into its basic shapes and patterns.
A closer view of that same treeGeometric shapes in the trees above the river
Snow also helps bring things into focus. A beaver-chewed tree trunk that might blend into the scene under normal conditions now jumps out of the landscape like a monument to the work of a master builder.
Tree cut by Beaver
And the edges of a fallen leaf suddenly make your eyes notice the detail in their pattern.
A closer look reveals many beauties in the snow
Walking upriver beyond the riffles, the river gets quiet and silky. The snow is falling harder, a burst of larger flakes that are eaten by the river, but gather on the dark branches and the sleeve of my coat, causing me to pause and admire their delicate beauty.
The river is smooth and draped in trees above the riffle
I stood quietly on the bank of the river…It was so peaceful watching the snow fall as the river rushed toward a destination far beyond this tranquil scene. The early naturalist and writer, John Burroughs, described what it is like to have a small river flowing near where you live…One can make a companion of it; he can walk with it and sit with it, or lounge on its banks, and feel that it is all his own. This snowy river gave me a glimpse of that feeling, and it reminded me of the powerful connection we all have to water and the landscapes that embrace it.
Roads End Naturalist 