Bearberry Hill, Cape Cod

Take a walk with me up Bearberry Hill near Truro on Cape Cod. True to its name, the hill is in fact just covered with Bearberry, an attractive low shrub that I planted at Eklund Garden a couple years ago. It's not doing all that great at Eklund, but it sure likes the sand dunes on the Cape.

There's a lookout platform at the top of the hill and a spectacular view in all directions. We decided to follow one of the little paths through the hot sand out to the ocean...

...but when we got to the highest dune, we discovered a sheer sand cliff of maybe 100 feet. Too steep to go down, but the waves were soooo inviting.



Looking back from the top of the dunes towards the pines below, we could see vast clouds of pine pollen blowing in the wind. Ugh.

There was lots of interesting vegetation along the dunes. Here was some tiny Beach Heather in bloom. There was also lots of Bayberry, the shrub they once used to make candles, and lots of poison ivy.

A second viewing platform overlooked one of the many kettle ponds on the Cape that were once used to grow cranberries.

This isn't cranberry, though. Cranberries grow in the places that are too wet to walk for the most part, and this was growing along the sandy trail. This is Bearberry.


And here's some Dusty Miller. Yup, the same stuff that grows in gardens. It escaped and now grows wild on the dunes.

Walking on the dunes was hot, even though it was supposedly only about 70 degrees. It felt more like 85. We headed for another beach access point much further down the trail, and this time found a beautiful quiet beach.

Yeah!!

If you look close, you can see a seal in the photo above.

The sand cliffs were interesting, composed of various layers that were eroding from the wind, sand pouring over the edges like sugar from jar.

This pod of gravel and one bigger rock looks like it got washed up in a really big storm. A Nor'Easter, I bet.


We then headed into the forest and the bog house, where this Box Turtle was found hiding in the pine needles. He wisely refused to stick his head out.

The old boghouse and bog were just about the end of the line for us. Instead of retracing our steps on the hot dunes, we followed a fire road past the house right out to nearby North Pamet Road. Fortunately little short cut, as we had no more water left to drink. Those dunes are hot when the sun is out! After the hike, we got to pick over 100 dog ticks off of the dog.

Mohawk Trail, Cornwall

The Mohawk Trail is another of our fine blue-blazed trails maintained by CFPA. Here's a waterfall at the Music Mountain Road crossing.

The woods were just bursting with native wildflowers today. I noticed that most of the Wild Geranium in bloom had one of these insects in them. This illustrates the complex relationships between our native plants and insects. The plants aren't just sitting there looking pretty, they provide food and shelter to our native animals.

Lots of Columbine! I happen to adore the native red and yellow colors. When you see Columbine in other colors it's probably the European Columbine.

These are delicate Merrybells, a native that we also planted at Eklund Garden in Shelton.
There is clearly some deer hunting going on around here. Look how thick the woods are. It sure doesn't look like that in Fairfield County, where much of the forest has been stripped by deer. It was in this area I saw a Black-Throated Blue Warbler, a bird that needs deep forests to thrive.

Lots of Virgina Strawberry along the trail and roadways, an ancestor of the domesticated strawberry. There are records of strawberry fields maintained by Native Americans, often in old cornfields. Not clear whether they planted the strawberries or the berries just grew in on their own.

This hut along the trail made for a great resting point. Hiking on a weekday, I didn't see a single person on the trail all day.

Marsh Marigolds.

Fringed Polygala, aka Gay Wings.

Starflower

Solomon's Seal.

On another part of the Mohawk, the trail followed a high rocky ledge filled with blueberry blossoms.

And came out onto this nice view. :)

Japanese Knotweed is Quite Dead

Success! The Japanese Knotweed I injected with Round-Up last year appears to be quite dead this spring. Here's the post from last fall so you can see the "before" pictures and the J.K. Injector Tool that was used.

The Knotweed Patch was about 50 x 50 feet and 12 feet high. Now there's just a big dead spot.

Of course, it is not enough to kill an invasive species, if that is just replaced by another invasive species. Here we have Mugwort poised to take over, unless the Autumn Olive can do it first.
Although the larger-stemmed Japanese Knotweed plants have been killed, the smaller stemmed plants on the periphery could not be injected because the large injector needle splits the stem and the Round-Up just drains out. Follow-up is critical for these smaller plants, or they will take over in no time.

The Stump

Meet our friend, the rotting stump, which we were too lazy/cheap to remove from our yard. There's a story in that stump. You can see where the three main trunks were, one of which has rotted out faster than the other two. And because there were multiple trunks, that means this tree regrew from from a cut stump rather than sprouted from a seed.


This large poultry staple must be where a fence was attached to the tree when it was about ten years old. The tree grew completely over the nail.

The punky tree roots and stump are now home to a number of enormous grubs which I believe are some type of Longhorn Beetle larvae. These larvae have no legs and can only eat rotting wood.



There is a grub in Australia called the Witchetty Grub that looks very similar, and people eat them. Bon Appetit.

Webb Mountain Park Wildflowers

Webb Mountain Park in Monroe has a popular network of hiking trails as well as some rough campsites. This overlook might be the most popular attraction.


This time of year there are lots of wildflowers along the trails in bloom if you look closely. Here's my favorite, Red Trillium.

Here's some Rue Anemone.


Early Saxifrage

Common Blue Violet. The blooms and young leave are edible.

Dwarf Ginseng

Wood Anemone

Waxy Meadow Rue

Machimoodus - Land of Noises

Machimoodus State Park overlooks Salmon River Cove and the Connecticut River in Moodus, Connecticut. Mount Tom, which dominates the park, is famous for its mysterious noises, called "the Moodus Noises," which were at times attributed to Hobomock (a Native American spirit or giant), witches, carbuncles, God's wrath at the back-sliding Puritans, and exploding vapors. "Machimoodus" actually means something like "Land of Noises."

We now know the noises are caused by micro-earthquakes, and this is the most seismically active area in the entire state. The most recent was on March 23 this year. A loud bang prompted 911 calls, and emergency crews searched the neighborhoods for sign of some calamity, but geologists simply recorded a small earthquake. A nearby deep cave is thought to amplify the sound of rock snapping.

Machimoodus lived up to its name. Although I heard no rumblings or booms, I stepped out of my car to the sound of a coyote howling nearby. Later, an old car passed down the trail (not sure how it got there) then stopped right around the corner from me, and through the trees I heard a man making a horrific noise such that I thought he must be getting stabbed repeatedly with a knife. I headed into the safety of the forest lest I be attacked as a witness. The noises continued and I finally suspected the man was simply heaving really loud and probably had too much to drink. This was confirmed when peace returned to the park and I continued down the trail.

The mountain had special significance to Native Americans as the place where they could get in touch with Hobomock. According to a local resident that I ran into, an eccentric millionaire took title to the land and built a network of private carriage roads, which are now hiking trails. The road in the photo above heads up the banks of the Salmon River through a mossy hemlock ravine.

After the winter from hell, the forest is finally coming back to life. Here's some early spring Coltsfoot in bloom.

The Mourning Cloak butterfly overwinters and is one of the first butterflies of spring. His edges are frayed, but hey, he survived the winter.


My favorite moment of the day was finding this tiny Round-Lobed Hepatica growing at a scenic overlook.

After visiting the overlooks, it was a nice change of pace to walk along the shoreline of the Salmon River.


It's nice to know that the Salmon River does in fact have salmon.

At some point I noticed some big black tourmaline crystals in a boulder alongside the trail. You can tell they are tourmaline by the rounded triangle shapes. Another hiker later told me there was an old tourmaline mine up there. I had an idea of where that might be, having seen what might be smashed white rock through the trees near the overlooks, and so I went looking.

Yup, that's it, the place of tourmaline. It was everywhere. The common black variety is called Schorl. Up in Maine they find pink and watermelon tourmaline, which are used in jewelry.

But what is black tourmaline used for? In the Victorian era they made "mourning jewelry" out of it. Tourmaline is odd. Some crystals, when pressure is applied, produce an electric current, which is why it was used in detonation devices during WWII. Also, when heated, tourmaline crystals are electrified and can pick up light objects. I don't know why this particular spot was quarried, though.

Found this teeny-tiny critter under the tourmaline, probably a Red-Backed Salamander.

In 1791, an earthquake centered here was felt as far as Boston and New York and caused chimneys to topple, boulders to move, fissures to open up, and fish to jump from the water. There were dozens of aftershocks over the next few months.

It will happen again.

It isn't a groan, nor a crash, nor a roar,
But is quite as blood-curdling to hear,
and has stirred up more theories crammed with learned lore
Than you'd care to wade through in a year.
-Reginald Sperry, 1884