"Sit-Spot"

Today I was thinking about the term “sit-spot”, this is an expression I’d heard from my friend Mira, she’d had some exposure to the Wilderness Awareness School, located in the state of Washington, and this is where she had first learned the expression. Basically, it is a school that trains people to be naturalists, but more than that, they are taught how to raise their awareness in the great outdoors. Through courses of study such as wilderness survival, wildlife tracking, bird language interpretation, edible and medicinal plants, outdoor skills, and traditional craft-making - all knowledge drawn from indigenous cultures from around the world – students learn to connect with the natural environment, on a very personal and often, profound way.
But at the center of all of this learning and skill development, is the concept of the “sit-spot”. The idea is, you find a place to go in nature that you can go back to, over, and over, everyday, and begin to learn it like the back of your hand. Students are instructed to visit it at night, during the day, rain or shine, in winter, summer, spring and fall. They are told to observe the birds they find there, and the trees in which they live. In addition, they are told to watch the plants and learn to recognize them in all seasons; to learn the animals that are found there, and to observe their behavior in all situations, and seasons. The philosophy is, that that there is no better teacher than a single place, a place that you know, and know intimately.
I, of course, was excited to realize that I was already visiting a “sit-spot”, indeed, I had been doing so for over ten years: a favorite little brook on Fish Creek. I may not have visited it in all seasons, and not necessarily in all kinds of weather, but I had been consistent, and the rewards from this experience have been many. I have found a confidence in myself, which was not there before, and I have found that I can be my own teacher, when need be.
I started out with a simple goal back then: I wanted to find flowers to draw. And, at first, that is what I concentrated on, but it was not long before my attentions were drawn elsewhere: insects that crawled on the flowers; bright red berries that grew near by; an unusual mammal that ran very quickly, and stood, to my delight, on his hind legs to scan the horizon above the grass line; the water level, and how it was effected by weather; the birds that were chattering in the trees; and the plants that made a thick, dense cover in which I could hide.
Quite naturally, I began asking myself questions as to what I was seeing, and little by little, I have set about to answer those questions. Of course, there are many more unanswered questions than answered ones, and that’s why I never get bored with going back to the same place again and again. And although my travels have expanded, and I have sought out these kinds of conundrum wherever I go now, it is still my favorite sit-spot that draws me back, day after day.
Now, encouraged by what I learned about the Wilderness Awareness School, and others like it, I am inspired to deepen my commitment to this place, expanding my modes of observation, times of day which I visit, and types of weather in which I go, I know that I will learn even more.
Also, I am greatly appreciative of the many people whom I have met, through this blog, and elsewhere, people who have been working at answering these questions far-longer than I; who each have their own sit-spot, some of whom have been generous enough to share them with me; and who, together, are in possession of a combined knowledge that encompasses all of the skills listed above; a knowledge that is both humbling and inspiring. So thank you, fellow naturalists, for all that you do, all that you share, and all that you dream, so that I, too may follow my own dreams.
For, when I sit in nature, and I am quiet enough to really see what is there to be seen; to really listen, and actually become a part of what I am experiencing, I take in this beauty on a cellular level, a level that is both energetic and physical, so that the teaching is not only done with words in books, or notes taken in a journal, but sometimes, something much deeper: beautiful and inexplicable.

Regaining Lost Wisdom

On Sunday, Sue P. and Jackie D., along with her three lovely young granddaughters, headed over to Moreau Lake State Park for some snowshoeing, but when we got there, found the snow not right for snowshoeing, so we headed off toward the lake. It was my first time traversing this lake in its frozen state, and it was quite exciting. My perspective on the whole place, an area that I have visited often, changed enormously when standing in the middle of the lake!
Because Jackie and Sue had both taken the tracking class with Vince Walsh last week, observing the different tracks in the snow was uppermost on both of their minds, and I got the benefit of some of what they had learned. It was so interesting to hear them talk about the size and depth of the print, the age of the track, and the distance between the prints, the gait of the animal, all as clues to the identity of the mystery animal. I’d obviously missed a lot by missing that class.
We all got pretty intrigued when we thought we were seeing some moose tracks. (This was not too far-fetched an idea, as a number of these animals had been spotted in the vicinity late fall.) We followed the tracks where they seemed to move back toward the bank, and up the slight incline, but this was conjecture, because the prints had been obliterated by lots of human prints near the shore. Then we started back-tracking, trying to find where they had started, which we weren’t able to do, seeing as the snow had blown over the prints, leaving tracks that stopped short, and an impression that this very heavy animal had sprouted wings and flown!
We left scratching our heads and wondering, but when Sue reached home, she did some research, and thought to compare horse hoof prints, and bingo! There was the mystery solved!
We did, however, see fox prints, and lots of evidence of beaver and muskrat activity. In fact, we saw a small downed willow, with tons of wood shavings on the snow, and when we inspected the trunk, where the severing from the main trunk had occurred, we saw big beautiful teeth marks. It was pretty amazing to think that this animal downed a tree with only his teeth for a tool!
When we left the lake and walked along in the woods, Jackie pointed out a witches’ broom to me. I had always seen these and wondered what they were. Upon doing some research, I found that they are a kind of gall, caused by rust fungi. Longan gall mites launch a parasitic attack on the plant cells, which causes abnormal growth within the tissues of the plant. This stimulates extra growth in the place of one shoot, and the mites then feed on this extra plant material. They are usually seen in birches (though can be found in pine, elm and other trees, as well) and they get their name from the many, small, shooting branches that originate from a common center, resembling a witches’ broom. It was once believed that these appendages appeared after a witch had flown over the tree.
But, at times, they take the shape of what looks like a bird’s nest, so sometimes, when we look up into bare, winter trees, and we think we are seeing old bird’s nests, what we are actually seeing are these galls. The good news is they don’t appear to harm the trees, and in fact, a mature birch can support up to a hundred of them without showing signs of stress. An interesting little side note is handmade broomsticks were traditionally made from birch twigs.
Another note of interest for me on the walk, were some fungi we found growing on a fallen tree, Sue told me one of them was a birch polypore. When I inquired further from her, she very kindly sent me a link about this fungus. I was amazed by the story that I read: it seems that in 1991, a 5,300 year-old Copper Age man was found frozen in the Alps. Upon doing an autopsy, they found that the man had suffered from parasitic whipworms, which would have caused stomach pain and diarrhea. On a leather thong, around his neck, the man carried several birch polypore mushrooms. These mushrooms, it seems, contain antibiotic oils which would have worked on microbacteria, such as he suffered from.
I am forever humbled by the power of nature, and the wisdom that seems, somehow, magically, or mystically, to be born where it is most needed. I feel that I am part of a generation that is beginning to discover, and appreciate the old wisdom, and to re-embrace it. And everyday that allows me to go out into the natural world, to discover all of these amazing sights and sounds, causes yet another wave of gratitude, in this very humble heart!

Pine Barrens

A few weeks ago, before the snows came, I visited the Pine Barrens in Albany. I’d been hearing about them for years, but had failed to make the trip down there until now. I knew that it was a very similar terrain and habitat to the Wilton Wilderness Preserve and Park (WWPP) in Saratoga County, and there was good reason for this, because both areas had been created in the wake of Glacial Lake Albany, an enormous glacial-melt lake.
Twenty thousand years ago, much of New York State was covered with an up-to-a-mile- thick glacier. About 15,000 years ago, as the temperatures began to rise, and the glacier began to melt, and retreat to the north, the huge amount of water left behind collected in the Hudson Valley, and created Lake Albany, which covered an area from what is now Newberg, NY, to present-day Glens Falls, NY.
Rivers and streams that flowed into Lake Albany carried much glacial sediment: clay, gravel and sand were all dumped into the lake. Variety in the size of the sediments influenced how and where it settled on the lake bottom; and one of its large sand deposits is to be found in this oak-pine savannah.
About 5,000 years ago the water drained from Lake Albany, leaving the sandy bottom exposed to the wind, and other waters that flowed here; together these forces carved out the unique sand dune terrain and steep ridges that are now evident in this area.
The area’s water table, unique soil, and rolling terrain influenced the kind of vegetation found here, and as a result, these two areas became home to many unique and special species: the Karner Blue butterfly (State and Federal Designated Endangered Species); the Frosted Elfin (State-Designated Threatened Species); Blanding’s Turtle (State-Designated Threatened Species); Eastern Spadefoot Toad (State-Designated Species of Special Concern); Eastern Hognose Snake (State-Designated Species of Special Concern); and the Spotted Salamander (State-Designated Species of Special Concern) are found in one, or both of these preserves.
Appalachian Oak-Pine forest is dominant here: White Pine, Pitch Pine, Black Oak, White Oak and Red Maple. Sweetfern, Witch Hazel, and Scrub Oak are the dominant shrubs. Grasses and wildflowers found here are Little Blue-Stem, Blue Lupine, Spreading Dogbane, Butterfly Weed, and New Jersey Tea.
The Albany Pine Bush Preserve (APBP) consists of 3,010 acres, and in 1996, a formal protection plan was adopted by the APBP Commission. This plan proposed to protect this area as a unique ‘inland Pine Barren habitat’.
Unfortunately, before this protection, vast areas and habitat were destroyed through urban sprawl; but, today, threats still exist from habitat fragmentation, roadside practices and land-use conversions.
In addition, many of these plant species have evolved with, and adapted to fire, as a result, they are dependent upon it. Both White-Pine and Pitch Pine have serotinus cones, which means that their cones have a kind of glue on their scales, which can be removed only after they have been exposed to extreme heat, therefore, they can’t release their seeds, and germinate, without fire. Because APBP is cheek-by-jowl with the city of Albany, and fire is seen as a disturbance, it has traditionally been suppressed here. But recently, however, controlled burning is now practiced in the APBP, as can be seen in the accompanying photographs.
The area’s most famous resident: the Karner Blue butterfly (Lycaeides melissa samuelis) has achieved its status as a federally-endangered species due, in large part, to the loss of its host plant, Blue Lupine, which, in turn, has been in decline due to habitat destruction. In addition, natural succession, resulting from fire suppression, has had a detrimental impact on Blue Lupine, as well.
The Karner Blue has lost vast habitat areas and large urban areas such as Chicago and New York have seen complete extinction of the species in their areas. Today the most viable population is to be found in Saratoga County, but it is also one of APBP’s famous residents.

Snow Day!

Snow Day! The child in me delights! Although, I must admit, it’s not really because of happy childhood memories associated with the day off; in fact, I don’t really remember snow days at all, growing up on the east shore of Long Island. Was it because we had less snow than my present north country home? Or was it that we were a hardier, or, perhaps, less cautious, breed in those days? My husband, who was raised in this area, says that he does remember snow days in his childhood, so it must be the former.
But, certainly, I do have happy memories associated with snow days from my children’s early youth. Our neighbor has a massive hill, quite perfect for high caliber sledding, and all the neighborhood children would come to spend the morning, and sometimes, afternoon, as well. There would be pancakes, and hot chocolate, and yes, I think I nurtured my own inner child by nurturing my children with such celebratory customs, so even though I rarely participated in the sledding myself (probably because there was usually a little one, too small for sledding, that I needed to tend to) I remember those days with great fondness.
Of course, I do currently work in the school system, so it is a day off for me as well, which of course, as someone who never has enough time to do all the things I am interested in doing, I am quite grateful for a day’s emancipation from work, but I think it is those older, happy memories that warm my heart the most!

First Snow

Woodswalker and I took a hike on the Western Ridge trail in Moreau Lake State Park yesterday, in celebration of the first snow. We hurried to get there, for fear that the precious snow would be melted by noon; but, our fears were unfounded, in fact, there was no such threat; the higher elevation had had more snow, and the temperature there was colder, so there was no threat of melting! We hiked up the occasionally steep incline, and stopped on several plateaus to enjoy the view of the Luzerne Mountains in the distance. Close to the top, we could see the Spier Falls Dam down below on the Hudson River.
I never fail to marvel at the great boulders one sees in the Adirondacks, and although these are not the Adirondacks proper, geologically speaking, they are part of the same great thrust that created them, and so I enjoyed seeing them, scattered along the trailside as we walked; I always like to imagine how many creatures can make a home of the little nooks and crannies that are created by two, or more, boulders positioned together, creating little cave-like shelters. I imagine such shelters are in high demand, and that there must be stiff competition for these spaces. (This musing reminds me of Jan Brett’s classic children’s story, The Mitten, in which seven or eight animals try to escape winter’s cold by squeezing into a lost mitten, each subsequent interloper being larger than the last, stretching the mitten further and further, until finally, the last one to squeeze in is a bear!) The evergreens looked so lovely covered with the thick white snow, and in places, where they leaned in over the trail, with just enough breaks in the upper storey to allow sun to break through, magical hiding places were created. I was delighted as I passed through; it was like having my own little Narnia.
At the top we sat on some wide boulders and admired some interesting outcropping of rock; in one place, we saw some beautiful pink marble; and it seemed the higher we climbed, the more highbush blueberry bushes we saw; they seemed to be everywhere.
The climb back down was tougher, because the trail was slippery, and steep, so it was a good initiation for the first hike in winter weather, reminding me of the importance of the right equipment: I’d come without waterproof pants, and was wearing the wrong type of boot, so I learned a lesson or two! Though somewhat difficult, the experience was worth it, and just the sense of satisfaction for having challenged myself, was reward in itself.

A Time For Quiet

I couldn’t believe it when I saw Woodswalker’s post about her walk in the local cemetery; I had, the same day, gone to a different cemetery seeking the same solace! This was not new to me; in the days when my husband, John, and I, traveled on the road as musicians, we would frequently find ourselves in some city where the only place we could find peace, and a bit of greenery, was often the town cemetery. As two people who lived in beautiful rural environs, we were spoiled by the numerous beautiful places for our daily hikes, but being on the road, sometimes in cold, inhospitable cities, we were grateful for the respite the local cemetery could provide.
Though outside its margins might have been roaring with traffic, congestion, and hoards of people, inside it was serene, peaceful, birds chirping, chipmunks chattering, squirrels scampering; and often, in older cemeteries , we would find magnificent old trees, rolling hills, and of course the often, exquisite headstones.
As we wandered amongst the gravestones, we were always touched by a sense of history: knowing each inscribed name represented a human life; each date, another time, another piece of history, remote and yet somehow, not, for we knew, these people had been driven by the same desires, fears and needs as we.
Growing up, the word, “graveyard” was a scary idea, visions of ghosts, and goblins, and all of our darkest fears were conjured, but that notion was transformed for me, in those peaceful walks that I often took in the local cemetery.

Bog at Lake Desolation

I was just remembering the day I went with naturalist Ruth Schottman to tour a bog at Lake Desolation, in the foothills of the Adirondacks; this was quite exciting because one doesn’t come across a bog everyday in these parts, and they are such unique and interesting habitats. Lake Desolation is a kettle hole bog. The original depression was formed by a retreating glacier, which deposited gravel, salt, and sand. When a block of the glacier became lodged in this sediment, its movement ceased, and when it melted, the depression, or “kettle hole” was created. Bogs are marked by the fact that they have no inlet, or outlet, of fresh water; this means that there are very low levels of oxygen, which severely limits the ability of plants to grow; as such, only certain plants, capable of adapting to this harsh, and poor nutrient condition, can survive here. Sphagnum Moss is one such plant. As it grows, it eventually drops down and fills in the bottom with decaying material called peat moss. Over thousands of years, the edges around the lake eventually fill in, and create a wet, spongy mass, on which other plants can grow.
Because there is very little decomposition of organic matter, the soil and water are a very acidic ecosystem. Due to the poor nutrients, and high acidity, only similarly adaptable life forms can take hold. One of the amazing examples of adaptive behavior is that of the carnivorous plants, which have done well in this environment. In response to the poor nutrients in the soil, these plants eventually began to supplement their diets with insects. The lovely diminutive sundew, for instance (Drosera rotundifolia) attracts insects with its bright red color and a glistening, sugary substance that covers its leaves. When insects become stuck to its glandular tentacles, it uses enzymes to extract nutrients, such as nitrates, from their bodies. Carnivorous plants also obtain phosphorous and nitrogen, both necessary for plant growth, from the bodies of their prey, as well.
The Northern Pitcher Plant (Sarracenia purpurea) another plant commonly found in bogs, uses brightly patterned leaves which exude a chemical (attractive to insects) to entice its prey. It adds the additional lure of water, which can be found in its six-inch long, tube-like leaves, partly filled with rainwater. Once the insect has found its way down to the water, it cannot escape, as the inside of the leaf is covered with downward-pointing hairs, and a waxy, slippery substance that comes off onto the insect’s feet, and prevents it from ascending. The rainwater also contains digestive enzymes, which allow the plant to digest all but the exoskeleton. But not all reach their demise when they fall to these depths, some creatures, such as a particular species of mosquito, has adapted to this environment by producing anti-enzymes that allow it to lay its eggs in the pitcher plant!
Sheep Laurel, High Bush Blueberry, Bog Laurel, Leather Leaf, Labrador Tea, Cypress Spurge, Choke Berry, Jack-in-the-Pulpit, and another carnivorous plant, Bladderwort, are some of the other interesting plants that can also often be found in a bog.