Surprises

Jack-in-the-pulpit

The view of the mountains to the west of my cabin is already obscured by spring’s new foliage. It will be November, a full six months from now, before I am able to see those hills again. The leaves first began to appear slowly, but once they started to bud the change to leaves was rapid. Even so, the canopy isn’t nearly as dense as it will be in another month. To the north, I can still see through the forest, a bit, to the sky. By summer’s solstice that will disappear, too. For now, I am enjoying what view of the sky I have left.


A couple of things about spring have surprised me this year, though after all the years I’ve been on the planet, I wouldn’t have guessed I’d forget something so obvious so easily. The first is the sound of the breeze through the leaves. The sound is entirely different than the sound of winter’s wind through the trees. My first thought when I heard the breeze was that the wind must be a lot stronger than it looked, to make so much noise. Then I realized that I hadn’t heard that sound for roughly 180 days, so it seemed new to me again. It doesn’t take much wind to make a summer breeze sound noisy compared to winter. All those thousands or millions of leaves rustle loudly on even the lightest breeze.

The second thing isn’t quite so much of a surprise, but a pleasant remembering. It’s nice to get up in the morning and have it not be dead dark outside. Even at 5:30 a.m., when I get up, daylight is now apparent. It’s not sunshine and it’s not yet very bright, but it’s light enough to do without the headlamp and that’s a nice thing. It seems so much more civilized to get up when the day is already producing some light. In midwinter, that 5:30 a.m. alarm seems as though it’s going off in the middle of the night.

My photo today is the first jack-in-the-pulpit that I’ve found so far. They are a pretty little plant but seem to want to grow around poison ivy, so getting a photo of one without having to tiptoe around poison requires careful reconnaissance before attempting a photo.

Can't top it

April 29, 2012

 It's hard to top finding half a dozen showy orchis plants in bloom during my walk on Sunday (see yesterday's post for photos).  My walk was still in its early stages when I found the orchids on this day of glorious weather.  The euphroria of that carried my feet further into the woods, but my mind was still on those orchids.

So perhaps that's why I didn't see the red fox earlier than I did.  The fox was just off the left side of the trail and was climbing over a log and rock. I stopped dead, expecting the fox to bolt.  Amazingly it did not.  It kept coming towards me, no more than 15 feet away for at least another 4-5 steps.  Finally, it did see me and faster than I could blink it disappeared into deeper the woods.

I went over to the spot where I first saw the fox, wondering if there was a den there.  No den.  I believe the fox was napping, though, in the sheltered area under the log that was resting atop a good-sized rock.   Perhaps it heard my footsteps and got up to investigate, not realizing in those first moments that I was Right There.  A few seconds later and from just across the stream, I hear the fox bark.  The poor thing was probably complaining to its mate, "I had to move!  I'm over here now!"

Jack in the Pulpit

That was, I think, the closest I've ever gotten to a fox in the woods.  It was a beauty, too, red and plump, with no sign of the mange that I saw on foxes a year or so ago.  Even though I had a camera in my hand, the whole incident happened too quickly for a photo.  The only way I might have gotten a photo is if my eye blink had been a camera shutter.

Jacks-in-the-pulpit (or is that jack-in-the-pulpits?) are up this week, too. 

I found these odd fungus on my walk. At first I thought they were "expired morels," but photos I've seen of fading morels don't look like this, so I don't know what they are.  Interesting fungus is about the best I can come up with.

I'm glad I took good advantage of the superb weather to traipse down along the stream this past weekend. The rest of this week has been foggy and humid, with spates of much-needed rain and occasional thunder.  The rain is appreciated, but it's not the kind of weather that makes for great photos!

Looking Towards Evening

This has been a busy week so far in the evenings after work, so I've had no free daylight time at home at the cabin. Tonight is a free night, and I've told myself that the housework will just have to wait another day.

The sky is blue, the day is clear, and though it's still only morning, I'm already planning to spend most of my evening sitting out on one of the decks, accompanied by binoculars and camera. Sitting and watching is perhaps my favorite outdoor activity.

Most people simply move around too much to really see anything. All that moving creates a lot of noise, and the noise and the motion makes the woodland residents hide. Scouts hike, campers sing around campfires, birding groups see the bird and then move on to the next one. There's nothing wrong with any of that, but it's by no means the most interesting or instructive way to spend time in the woods.

Have you ever watched a deer move through the woods when it's not stressd? They move slowly, stopping often. And birds? When was the last time you actually watched a woodpecker at work? Most of the time they're very deliberate in their excavations.

Move slowly and you're a part of the woods. The woodland residents don't fear your presence and will carry on their own lives while you're out there too. Most of the time, they will happily go about their business while you're out there, and you might well not even need your binoculars. Move quickly, make noise, and in their minds, you're a threat.

I will keep this sermon short (see photo), but my advice is simply: Slow down! Sit. Watch. If you really want to learn about the outdoors, that's the only way.

Oh, and for those of you who didn't get the sermom reference, today's photo is a jack-in-the-pulpit. Happy sitting!