And if that weren't enough, last night the wood frogs were quacking away in the wet places along the Falling Waters Trail.

(And I saw a forsythia in full bloom in the city yesterday morning.)

 The sun rose in a rose-colored ball of fire this morning.  I could see it peeking beneath the windowshade in my bedroom.  I, of course, rolled over and tried to catch another few winks of sleep.  When I finally hauled myself out of bed, the morning's blush was gone.

Although the day was not as balmy as it was yesterday, it was still too lovely to be stuck indoors all day, so about mid-morning I grabbed my camera and hit the trails.  I was in search of skunk cabbage in particular, and frogs, for I had heard that the former was starting to bloom and I could hear a cloud of frogsong in the distance.  Nature was calling.

The little stream that runs through the property is a constant source of interest...I seem to photograph it every time I walk by!  One of our volunteers was standing near the stream as I came along, and he told me he had just seen a rather large muskrat take to the water.  I'll have to keep my eyes peeled for it.


When I told Paul I was searching for the rumored skunk cabbage, he took it upon himself to show me right where it was blooming.  And there it was!


There were quite a few sending up their strange, prehistoric-looking flowers, each slightly different than the next in color.

Skunk cabbage, which is neither a skunk nor a cabbage (it is, in fact, related to Jack-in-the-pulpit), is our earliest blooming wildflower.  It may not look like something you'd want to grace your dining room table, and the aroma put out by this low-growing plant is certainly not one that is savored by most people.  In fact, the scent has been likened to that of rotting meat (of course, they say that about red trillium, too, but I never could detect anything disagreeable when I sniffed them).  The ground was a bit too damp today for me to get down on all fours and thrust my nose within the spathe (this flower doesn't have petals; the spathe, which takes the place of petals, is made from a modified leaf) for a whiff.  Maybe in a couple weeks.  Skunk cabbages put out this scent to attract their pollinators, like any good plant will.  In this case, the pollinators are flies.

But wait!  It gets even more exciting than that!  Consider the way this plant grows.  It sits there just waiting for spring to spring, and as soon as spring is in the air (regardless of the equinox), the spathe shoots upwards.  The growth is so rapid that the plant actually generates heat, which melts the surrounding snow (if there is any).  The dark color of the spathe starts to absorb the heat from the sun, and the cupped shape of the spathe contains the heat.  And it gets even better, because now the spathe generates a vortex!  Cold air rushes in at the bottom of the spathe, warms up inside, and as we all know, hot air rises, so upwards the warm air goes, taking with it the carrion scent of the plant's interior.  This is called advertising, folks - the call has gone out to all those insects that find the smell of decay attractive.  Pollination takes place.  Life doesn't get much better than this...or at least not for the skunk cabbage.


Paul and I saw a couple flies buzzing around, and I tried sneaking up on a beautiful red wasp, but the camera simply refused to focus.  I wonder which wasps are active right now...hm.

We continued along the path a short distance and I heard a rustle.  Then I heard some more rustlings. I looked down to see not one....


but two garter snakes.  We looked around some more and found...


a pair wrapped together in a loving embrace.  The smaller male had found himself a female and was bound and determined to mate with her.


As we continued to look, more and more snakes appeared!  Right nearby was an old log that Paul said was the likely hibernaculum of these reptiles.  In the winter snakes seek out cozy places below ground to sleep away the season.  Very often, whole groups of snakes will congregate in these hidey holes.  Many years ago, at my second job as a naturalist, I came across a hillside covered with emerging garter snakes - there were hundreds, all slithering down the slope.  The males are all in search of receptive females, and when one is found, it is not unusual for multiple males to try to claim her all at once.  Big balls of snakes are sometimes discovered by hikers in the spring.  Because snakes are not well-loved by most people, those who find these balls can have less than thrilled reactions.  I, for one, hope to some day encounter such a mating ball.


We continued around the trails, Paul pointing out to me where spring beauty, hepatica, gentians, and other wildflowers will appear as their seasons come into play.  We would our way toward the glacial pond, where the Cut and Dab Society is steadily making progress at eradicating invasive buckthorns, autumn olive and honeysuckle, and there we heard the frogs.  Forget the video from last night - this one is much better.  Spring peepers and chorus frogs were both in good voice this morning.


We had to head back to the office, though.  Paul had some birdfeeders to repair (a hungry raccoon wreaked some havoc last night), and I had work to do.  We saw the first butterfly of the season flitting across the prairie - it may have been a Compton's tortoiseshell (at any rate, it was orange and black, and it wasn't a mourning cloak).

It was good to get out, even if only for an hour.  I am eager to see what each day brings now that the equinox is almost upon us.

"It," of course, is Spring.

I know, I know...I keep saying that, and then it snows.  But today we snuck up really close to 70*F!  At 8 PM it was still 66*F.  Sure seems like spring to me, so let's take a look at the evidence.

One:  chipmunks on the move at the bird feeders.


Two:  ponds thawing.



Three:  things that were buried under the snow are now visible. Such as,  deceased deer...



...vole tunnels...



...and that wefty white mold?  fungus? that lurks beneath the snowbanks.



To take advantage of the balmy evening, Toby and I headed over to the Falling Waters Trail.  We weren't alone.  Older couples and good friends were out walking the trail for exercise.  A cyclist or two whizzed by.  We were even passed by a rollerblader.

The sides of the trails just beckoned, especially the ponds.  One of the naturalists at work told me today that she heard her first chorus frog of the year today, so I had to stake out the ponds for frogs (number four).


Ah-ha!  It was time to make a recording.  Now, I'm not going to win any oscars for my filming talent, so just close your eyes and listen.  Almost all the sounds of spring are there:  red-winged blackbirds, starlings, robins, and chorus frogs.  The frogs sound like the sound you get when you run your thumb nail down the teeth of a stiff plastic comb.  I haven't heard a chorus frog since I worked in New Jersey!  And later on, when it was nearly dark, I even heard a few spring peepers in the woods.



Wetlands abound in southern Michigan.  I can only try to imagine what spring was like three hundred or more years ago in this part of the state.  The cacophony of birdsongs must've been something to behold.  Even today, when mere remnants remain, the waterfowl and other birds still seek them out.  Ducks, geese, cranes...red-wings, woodcocks (I heard them tonight, too), killdeer...the air was full of songs (number five).




Much of the soil here seems quite sandy, which is perfect for turtles looking to lay their eggs.  Sadly, most turtle nests are predated by raccoons and foxes.  If they are lucky, each turtle has one egg make it to adulthood during a lifetime of egg laying.



The find of the evening, however, was a dark form that fluttered overhead as we reached the end of the trail, heading home.  At first I thought it was a woodcock sweeping in to land.  But then I saw it...a bat (number six)!  A good-sized bat with broad wings.  Best guess is a big brown bat.  And then, even better, two more bats flew over.  A few minutes later, I saw two more! 

Bats are doing much better here in Michigan than they are back east.  So far, it seems that White-nose Syndrome isn't here.  I'm sure it is only a matter of time, so I'm going to enjoy seeing bats again for as long as it lasts.

I love it when people bring in mystery objects for us to identify.  Out come the books, the cameras, the internet links to appropriate pages.  The hunt is on!

This last week a woman brought in a mystery caterpillar.  Apparently she found several of them on her carpets.  Were they eating the rugs?  Would they threaten her dresses and wool coats?

Gary came and asked if I knew what it was.  No idea.  So out came Caterpillars of Eastern North America - my new favorite book.  I've ordered my own copy to add to my ever-growing library of field guides.  Some page flipping and photo scanning, and voila! he identified it as the larva of the Large Yellow Underwing (Noctua Pronuba).

 Once identified, Gary turned the caterpillar over to me.  I had brought my camera gear in to work just so I could photograph the beastie.  We have top views (above), and bottom views (below).


The large yellow underwing is a rather bland brownish moth, with dullish yellow underwings (hence the name).  And, surprise, surprise - it's not native!  It is thought that it entered our part of the world (Canada) sometime in the late 1970s.  It is found primarily in agricultural areas (and waste places, lawns, fields, grasslands), where it feeds on grasses and low-growing forbs.  In other words, it does quite well here in the mid-west, where agriculture is big.

It's a sparsely hairy worm, and was rather sluggish by the time its photo session began.  I guess that's what happens when you leave your specimen overnight in a 56 degree room!  

Since the animal refused to be more lively, photo ops were limited.  I got what I could, and the next stage of life began for this caterpillar:  food for our frog.


While the frog is always up for a snack, it doesn't exhibit the best of aim.  It's first strike missed, so we moved the caterpillar closer - into the water.  Apparently this was too close - the frog didn't even try.  So, Gary reached back in and place the caterpillar up on the "log".


 Of course, when the frog struck, it was fast as lightning, and I missed it.  Still, I did get a shot of its eyes partially closed.  Frogs use their eyeballs to push food further down their throats when they swallow.  If you watch a frog eating, you will see its eyes depress into the head as it swallows - pretty nifty.


Afterwards, he sang to us his thanks.


Meanwhile, in the tank next door, the garter snake came out to see what the commotion was all about.  Was it feeding time?  Where was his fish, cricket, or worm?

 
It's great to work in a nature center!

Our second destination on Monday was the Hudson River right near down town Glens Falls. Because my car was in the shop, we took Jackie's tandem canoe.

Our target plant this time was Fen Grass of Parnassus, Parnassia glauca. This plant is listed as exploitivly vulnerable in NY, and Jackie's friend Sue found it growing along the shore of the river. I was dying to see it - it's been on my "must see list" for some time.

So, we headed upstream, and before long I spotted it, peeking out from behind a small boulder at the water's edge. We parked the boat, clambered out, and starting taking photos.




Since Jackie had been here the day before, she wandered upstream a bit to see what other treasures she might find.

Celery grass was growing in profusion in the water. Nifty water plant. The coils hold the female flower just at the water's surface, spreading out or contracting as needed with the water's level. When the flower is pollinated, the coils retract and the plant shoves the fertilized flower into the ground at the river's bed. Amazing biology.


We continued paddling upstream and found another clump of the grass of Parnassus. The flowers are a lot larger than I had expected.

Some were growing singly in the cliff face, while others...


were growing in huge colonies! We must've seen hundreds of these plants, all clinging to the rock wall. It was a wondrous sight!

The back of these flowers is just as lovely as the green-striped front.

Between the two of us, we must've taken over a hundred photographs.


This wonderful orange lichen was also decorating the rock wall. I know I've seen it in my massive lichen book, but that's at work and I'm "on vacation" again this week, so give me a few days to ID it.

Update: This is, in fact, neither moss nor lichen, but an alga! My other brilliant botanical buddy, Evelyn, contacted Jackie to tell her that it is Trentepholia aurea. I don't think either of us expected this! I did a quick search on-line about this, and for a good site, visit here.


For the geologists in the crowd, check out this terrific rock formation. It was almost as if bricks had been layed (laid?) in the cliff face.


We followed the progression of this layer until the vegetation covered it. As you can see, it started by the water's edge (above) and continued to rise - an incline (below).


Spikenard (Aralia racemosa) fruits were ripening along the cliff, too. This isn't a plant I've seen before, but it's one I've wanted to add to my gardens - great native plant, often suggested as a substitute for some of those invasives people like to put in their gardens.

As we headed back downriver, we saw this enormous stream of water shooting out from the trees on the opposite shore. What could it be? After some fun speculations, we decided to see what it was.


Our least-exciting theory proved true: it was the local fire department practicing using their hoses up on their extension ladder. Fun, but not as much fun as a giant peeing from the trees.


We continued to a little cove; Jackie wanted to see if we could find any turtles.


We watched a great blue heron for a while. Have you ever tried sneaking up on a GBH? It's well-nigh impossible. Just as we started to get close, it took off (I have a whole series of shots of this). It landed just a little further along and we tried sneaking up again. It looked like it caught something here - see the extended throat?


Finally we were too much for it, so it took off again and disappeared.


I love wetlands. They are so beautiful. Once seen as pestilential places only good for draining and filling in, today we know just how important they are to not only their immediate ecosystems, but to ecosystems further downstream as well.

Jackie pointed out water marigold, another Bidens. When I lifted it up, I was amazed at its underwater leaves. Looking from above into the water, I thought the plant was coontail, another aquatic plant, but no, it was water marigold. Underwater they look a lot alike.

Earlier in our paddle, I had asked Jackie: "Have you ever actually seen a frog ON a lily pad?" "No." "Neither have I - I think it's all entirely fictional."

Lo! and behold! Guess what we saw?!?!


We also found two painted turtles sunning themselves. It was very hot by now (my car thermometer, when I picked up my car about an hour later, read 93*F), so I was surprised these two were out basking.


They didn't stick around for long, though - like the heron, they don't like to be watched.


We also talked about bladderworts. I was trying to remember the name of one I wanted to see, but couldn't. It was late and I needed to get my car, so we headed back to the town beach from which we had launched. "Oh, look," I said. "Bladderworts."

Jackie decided we should stop and see which ones they were, because this late in the season she couldn't imagine what would be blooming.

I reached down and plucked one from the water. "OH! This is the one I wanted to see!"


This is Utricularia inflata, which, according to Newcomb's is a coastal plant. We were very excited. It was a new plant for each of our life lists. Actually, it isn't. We now believe it is U. radiata, which is a threatened species in NYS. Read more below in the update.


The species name, inflata, refers to these "pontoons" that keep the plant happily afloat in the water.


Here you can see some of the tiny bladders that grow on the underwater portion of the plant.



And this is a close-up of one of the "pontoons."

We were both so excited with this find. I went on-line at the library after picking up my car to see what I could find out about this plant. According to the USDA site, it is not only an endangered species in NY, but is only listed as occurring in one county downstate.

I immediately emailed Steve Young, the state botanist, to tell him of our find. I went on and on about how I'd be happy to go back and get a GPS reading for it.

Today I had an email back from him. "It has been found in the ADKs, leaves only, in the Raquette Lake area but not in the Hudson. Seems to be spreading more and more and acting as an invasive." I've been crushed.

Still, it was a new plant for me, and an interesting one at that.

Update: I just read Jackie's blog of this trip and apparently she sent an email off to Steve as well. Because she is a regular correspondent with him, she got a much more detailed answer from him. Here's what she wrote:

I heard from NY State Chief Botanist Steve Young that Utricularia inflata has not only been removed from New York's endangered plant list, it is now considered a dangerously invasive plant in certain areas where it is crowding out other native species. That's the bad news. The good news is that the bladderwort in the photo above is more likely Utricularia radiata, or Small Inflated Bladderwort, since those radiating arms are only a little longer than an inch and branch out only at the ends. Another distinguishing feature is that the flower petal's lower lip has three distinct lobes. U. radiata is indeed a rare plant in New York, and as far as I can tell, has never been reported in Saratoga County. Until now.

Well, I guess it wasn't a total wash after all!


My day full of adventure didn't end once I picked up my car. I was running late, and it was rush hour, so maybe that explains the final adventure. I'd gotten my groceries, and wanted to find the cheapest gasoline, so I headed back into Glens Falls. I don't know how it happened, but apparently my attention drifted for a moment and WHAM! I hit the curb. Whap whap whap. Uh-oh.

Flat tire.

Pulled in to a pizza place and called AAA. Their guy came about a half hour sooner than they said, and before long I had my spare on. He didn't recommend driving back up to Newcomb with the spare. It was 7 PM - who would be open now? Try Wal-mart. (UGH). They couldn't help me, but Sears could, so off I went.

The dog! Called my boss - could you let the dog out in the yard?

It was after 9:30 when I finally got home, with my new tire and my melting groceries. The dog was very happy to see me - he'd raided the compost bucket and had eaten another pair of underwear. >sigh<

I'm still waiting for the underwear to reappear.