I needed a little exercise and couldn’t bring myself to walk the sunny trails of our neighborhood – it’s just too hot outside. Nor could I bear to sweat in place for an hour in the black and grey, aggressively air conditioned neighborhood gym.
The answer presented itself in the Ellett Valley Recreational Area. A shady, one mile loop trail only 10 minutes away from home? Yes, please!
The rays of a hot September sun filter through a canopy of green and throw shifting spotlights on the forest floor.
I figured I’d have time to do two laps. Obviously I had momentarily forgotten that my hiking speed is permanently set to 30 seconds (maximum) of fast walking followed by complete stop for a minute (minimum) to take a picture/study a plant/listen to birds/try to find the animal that just scurried through my peripheral vision.
An hour later I had made one lap of the loop trail (plus two tenths for round-trip leg to the parking lot, of course, give me some credit). Along the way, I stopped for . . .
I should have known when I wrote that snarky comment about spider web ninjas in my Weavers’ World post that it would come back to bite me in the butt. Or, rather, to smack me in the face, as the many, many spiderwebs across this trail did.
Even my slow pace wasn’t enough to keep me looking ahead properly to avoid running into and destroying webs. However, I did make two interesting observations:
- Almost all of the webs across this trail were inhabited by young micrathena spiders. Perhaps the young haven’t yet learned that when you build your web across the trail, big, clumsy humans will just wreck it over and over again. Live and learn, little spiders.
- Though I must have walked through at least a dozen webs, and micrathenas tend to sit in the middle of their webs (and once I walked through and could see that the micrathena was trapped on my face by her web) the little spiders fled each and every time and I didn’t get bitten once. To a spider the size of half your pinkie nail, you are basically a moving tree. No point in biting a tree – it’s not a threat, it’s a force of nature.
One of the things that really impressed me was that this is more than a trail – the interpretive signs alone make it a true learning experience. The signs are really well done, too; easy enough for a grade-schooler to read, but with information interesting to all ages and graphics that make it easy to understand.
I tip my hiking hat to the creator of this interpretive sign. It’s placed near some huge outcrops of stone that you can’t help but examine more closely after you’ve read this sign.
Virginia Creeper’s Red Leaves
Fall really is on its way.
Just two red leaves on the trail this day. In a week or two the trail will be covered with colored leaf confetti.
One of the first plants to turn is Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia), which goes from green to stunning scarlet seemingly in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, as you look up in the woods, you see trees festooned with red streamers that put party decorations to shame. That’s Virginia creeper.
This little Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) got caught changing! I bet by the next day all five leaves were scarlet.
Look before you touch, though; poison ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) also turns red, so remember “leaves of three, let it be”. Virginia creeper’s leaves are in groups of five. (It also has blue/black berries where poison ivy’s tiny berries are white.
Holy Mackerel, a Salamander!
My daughter is the Queen of Salamanders. She can find them anywhere. I’m merely the fool in her court . . . but even a fool can get lucky! An ephemeral mountain stream crosses the trail and it was mostly dry when I visited – down to wet soil without any mud puddles even. There was one rock that looked easy to turn over, and it was just barely off the trail, and salamanders need somewhere cool and wet to hide (they breathe through their wet skin), so I decided to give it a shot. Success!!
I was so overjoyed to find an actual salamander under the one stone I turned over that I think I held my breath the whole time. This northern two-lined salamander (Eurycea bislineata) runs well, but held perfectly still for the half-minute I had the rock lifted. Nowhere wet to run to, perhaps.
I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a bright yellow northern two-lined salamander (Eurycea bislineata) curled up under that rock! He held very still, which could have been a technique to avoid the giant predator who just lifted his precious rock, or it could have been because they’re only active on nights and wet days. I held the rock up just long enough to get a picture of my little citrine treasure and then put it ever so gingerly back down. Good luck till it rains again, little guy.
A hole in a tree is habitat for some little body, guaranteed.
Woodpeckers have made good work of this tree! Dead and dying trees, called snags, provide a lot of habitat for woodland creatures and are very important to the forest ecosystem.
Some holes are relatively dry, made high on the trunk by woodpeckers drilling through bark to get at bugs.
I used a flash to get a better image of the inside of the rotted-out knot at the base of this tree. I didn’t see anything moving inside, but I suspect that’s because fairies become invisible when humans are around.
Others are low, a rotted out spot where a diseased branch or trunk used to be. Either way, check them out and you’ll be happily surprised at all of the life inside.
Where two strong trunks diverged at the base of a tree, time, water, fungus and bacteria made a week spot home. It’s now a hole big enough to fit an adult hand. It’s half full of water, and several invertebrates were taking advantage of the moisture. At the upper left corner of the hole, you can just barely see the large millipede that was running for cover when my flash lit.
There are a thousand treasures, small and large, to be found on any trail. That’s why it takes me so long to walk them – it’s hard to be a treasure hunter disguised as an exerciser. (Exercist?)
The spicebush trees (Lindera benzoin) that bring us the first (tiny, lemon yellow ) blossoms of spring now sport crimson berries. Some people eat the berries, but I leave them as good wild food for songbirds. All parts of this bush smell deliciously spicy.
This small sassafras (Sassafras albidum) is one of my favorite trees because of its varied leaf shapes. While identification books (boringly) describe the leaves as having one to three lobes, I prefer to remember them as “simple leaf”, “mitten”, and “trident” shaped. You can see all three on this one specimen!
Moss identification is no joke. Mosses make up an entire class of life on earth. This one might be haircap moss (Polytrichum juniperum), but I need to study moss much, much more to know for sure. In the meantime, it reminds me of a friendly, Muppet monster. Therefore, I’ll call it Muppet moss.
One last shot: I had to stop the car on the short gravel drive to the main road. This cluster of wildflowers was I wild bouquet waiting to be captured. The yellow is goldenrod (Solidago spp.), the orange is jewelweed (Impatiens capensis), the dark blue at the base of the goldenrod is great lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica), the white is boneset (Eupatorium perfoliatum), and the little periwinkle star at the bottom center is one lone blossom of chicory (Chicorium intybus). All are in the aster family except the jewelweed.
Couldn’t resist a close up on the chicory.