Blue Ridge Dreaming

Mayapple

Our community is named for the creek that marks its way through the valley floor. The road runs alongside the creek and shares its name. For me, this is the way home.

After nearly two years of living here I am now beginning to note the features of this path, the seasons of this valley. The changing corn field, the bend in the creek that is highlighted in the evenings by the setting sun, where the early morning light dances on the surface of the water. I like to imagine a large brook trout lives there.

Then there is the copse of mayapple in the corner just before the crumbling red-painted shed that marks one border of the corn field (the other boundary of which is our neighborhood). I like seeing them in spring--the mayapple, their umbrella leaves, hiding, I know, a small white flower or a green berry.

On the wooded hill behind our house, out by the bird feeders, there is another group of mayapple, this one convenient enough for me to observe more closely. To monitor its growth and flowering.

I take my guidebooks down. I read: "Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum); Barberry Family. Solitary, nodding flower borne in the crotch between a pair of large, deeply lobed leaves. Flowers: 2" (5cm) wide with 6-9 waxy white petals. Leaves: to 1' (30cm) wide. Fruit: large, fleshy, lemon-like berry." (from The National Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Wildflowers).

The text continues:

The common name refers to the May blooming if its apple-blossom-like flower. Although the leaves, roots, and seeds are poisonous if ingested in large quantities, the roots were used as a cathartic by the Indians. The edible ripe golden-yellow fruits can be used in jellies.

[An online source says that the name refers to the apple-like fruit, which is really a berry.]

Peterson's Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants for Eastern and Central North America says this for its use:

Fresh fruit, jelly, cold drink. The large pale yellow berries ripen as the plant begins to wither and die. The pulp surrounding the seeds can be eaten raw, or cooked and made into jelly (add pectin); the juice can be added to lemonade. Warning: The roots, leaves, seeds, and green fruit are strongly cathartic and should not be eaten.

These mayapple plants--the family on my hillside--are just now budding, flowers still tightly closed, as you can see. In the next month they will open and I will climb through the undergrowth again to peek under the leaves and photograph the flowers. Then another month, and I will look for the fruit. You'll forgive me, I hope, if I don't make any jelly. The words "strongly cathartic" make me a tad wary.

In the garden and a Friday Fact

Dad worked in the garden yesterday (and the day before, and over the weekend). He planted new azaleas (on sale this week), plus radishes, onions, salad greens, beans. It's a good thing he did, too, because according the the Farmer's Almanac's Planting by the Moon calendar, March 26-27 was "an excellent time for planting root crops...and for starting seed beds," but this weekend, March 28-29 at least, are "poor planting days." Not to mention it's supposed to rain all weekend.

Also, according to the Farmer's Almanac this weekend will be the best days for: cutting hair to retard growth, castrating farm animals, picking apples and pears, weaning, quitting smoking, potty training (we need a that one to go well for a few days, boy howdy we do), demolition, washing wooden floors (thank God--mine need it badly), washing windows (ditto on this), and starting a diet to lose weight.

Why is this weekend especially propitious for these tasks, you ask? Again, according The Farmer's Almanac:

It's widely believed by many long-time Almanac followers that when the Moon occupies a particular place in the Zodiac each day at 7:00 a.m. EST, it can play an important role in achieving the best possible results for certain activities.

Looks like I have a busy weekend ahead.

A Discovery and a (not exactly) Friday Fact

We first set foot on this island in March, 1995, and have returned, with very few exceptions, every year since. Not much changes, even when things change. And yet each year there are new discoveries. This year was no exception.

Our usual site--a flat clearing in the maritime forest not far from the dock and boardwalk to the lighthouse (and outhouse). This time the site deeper into the woods had grown over, and the picnic tables (three of them) all moved to our space. The site had been recently occupied--the pine needles flattened and pine cones brushed aside where tents had been, the remains of an illegal fire covered in sand and pine debris, someone's toilet paper left to disintegrate under a triumvirate of trees.

It had also been recently used by another sort of creature. The leavings of several skirmishes littered the ground--gull feathers, the remains of a young red-winged blackbird, wings torn at the shoulder, torso gone.

Later, on the path to the boardwalk, we found a large scat, full of bones, feathers, even fur. The intact skull of a mouse nearby. We wondered about this. No large predatory mammals inhabit this island (although the Park Ranger had told us they've seen a bear over the years swimming from island to island, he has not been around in a while, she said, and besides, we knew it wasn't bear scat). Here the raccoons dominate, along with mice and a small population of nutria (something we had discovered a few years back when one of these strange possum/groundhog things waddled through our campsite at dusk). Certainly there were no coyotes, whose scat we know often contains fur and bones.

Finally it occurred to us: an owl. We were camping in an owl's favored hunting ground. The scat not scat at all but the regurgitated plug of indigestible material. But as large as that pellet was--this must have been one big bird.

In the morning, as everyone was on the surf fishing and I was returning from the loo, Barrett happily chattering in my back carrier, I spotted another mess. A dead wren, more feathers, smaller pellets--all at the base of a tree. I looked up. The top of the tree had blown over in some storm long ago, and caught in the treetops across the path, creating a sheltered bit of space about 15 feet up. There, in the hollow, something was watching me. A gray fluff of feathers and two yellow eyes. An owlet. Two. Huddled in their nest, waiting for mama.

Later, walking the same path, a large shadow fell across me and I looked up in time to see a very large mama owl alight on a branch to observe as I passed. As long as I was near the nest she remained, not daring to approach and give away the location of her babes. She watched me with careful disinterest, until I moved along back to camp.

That night the wind blew fiercely and a storm pelted our tent with intermittent rain. I worried about the owlets. But the next morning the wind bore down on us as we packed up camp and hurried to get under shelter to wait for the ferry, which we weren't sure would even come in the rough waters. I worried over my own babes and forgot about the little owl family.

At home, I looked them up and determined they were Great Horned Owls (Bobo virginianus). Our mama owl had distinct tufts of feathers, like horns or ears. She was reddish brown and very large with yellow eyes. According to The Owl Pages, these birds can be 18-25 inches long, with wingspans of up to 60 inches. They are highly adaptable and can be found in a variety of habitats, from dense forests to deserts, plains, and city parks. They eat whatever is available: other birds (including Great Blue Herons, red-tailed hawks, bitterns, ducks, gulls, and smaller birds), mice, rats, squirrels, raccoons, armadillos, rabbits, bats, muskrats, small cats or dogs, snakes, turtles, even young alligators. Six to ten hours after eating, they regurgitate the indigestible parts of their food (feathers, bones, fur) in pellets that can be as large as 3-4 inches long and 1.5 inches thick. Skulls as wide as 1.2 inches can be regurgitated whole.

Long-lived, these owls can live 13 years in the wild and have few predators (mostly other Great Horned Owls, and, perhaps, Peregrine Falcons) although the young are vulnerable.

According to The Owl Pages:

Nesting season is in January or February when the males and females hoot to each other. When close they bow to each other, with drooped wings. Mutual bill rubbing and preening also occurs. They do not build a nest of their own but utilize the nests of other birds such as the hawk, crow and heron. They may also use squirrel nests, hollows in trees, rocky caves, clumps of witches broom, abandoned buildings, or on artificial platforms.  They are extremely aggressive when defending the nest and will continue to attack until the intruder is killed or driven off. Normally, two to four eggs are laid and incubated by the female only for 26-35 days. Young start roaming from the nest onto nearby branches at 6 to 7 weeks, when they are called "branchers", but cannot fly well until 9 to 10 weeks old. They are fed for another few weeks as they are slowly weaned. Families remain loosely associated during summer before young disperse in the autumn. Adults tend to remain near their breeding areas year-round while juveniles disperse widely, over 250 km (150 miles) in the autumn. Territories are maintained by the same pair for as many as 8 consecutive years, however, these Owls are solitary in nature, only staying with their mate during the nesting season. Average home ranges in various studies have been shown to be approximately 2.5 square kms (1 square mile).

For more info, photos, and sounds of Great Horned Owls (as well as other owls), please be sure to visit The Owl Pages.

Here is the very unclear photo I took with my limited telephoto lens. See if you can spot the little fella's eye looking at me.

Photo of Adult Great Horned Owl in Michigan by Janice Laurencelle and courtesy of The Owl Pages.

Photo of Great Horned owlet by Wesley J. Satterwhite (me) at Cape Lookout National Seashore, North Carolina, March, 2008.

Friday Fact: Watch that step

I teach Introductory Psychology to community college students. Every semester I cover a unit on cognition, or thinking. How we make decisions, solve problems, process, understand, communicate, remember. All that nebulous stuff we can't see no matter how sophisticated our brain imaging technology becomes.

Part of this discussion involves the errors we make in our thinking. I love talking about this with my students because I get to play with their minds...trick them with riddles.

In addition, I usually include a lecture written by our textbook author, David Myers, on the subject: "The Fear Factor--Do We Fear the Right Things?" adding some interesting information from Laura Lee's book, The 100 Most Dangerous Things in Everyday Life and What You Can Do About Them. It usually means a lively and fun discussion. As Lee and Myers note, we all tend to overestimate the dangers of rare events (that are vivid in our memories) while disregarding the dangers of everyday, commonplace events.

So for today's Friday Fact, I thought I would share with you some statistics on the dangers of a few of those everyday, ordinary things in our lives:

1. Books. According the the US Consumer Product Safety Commission's National Electronic Injury Surveillance System, 10,683 Americans every year are injured by books, magazines, albums, or scrapbooks. Another 1,490 are injured by magazine racks or bookends.

2. Chairs cause 13 times the number of injuries annually as chain saws. Myers states that "More than 410,000 Americans have seating mishaps each year." (I love that: "seating mishaps.")

3. Stairs. It is estimated that 1,091 Americans are killed annually on stairs, and an amazing 769,400 are injured. According to Myers, "an extensive study of stair use revealed that a noticeable misstep occurs [approximately] every 2,222 steps."

4. Finally, lest you think your should just stay in bed with the covers over your head...consider that 411,689 Americans annually sustain injuries related to beds, mattresses, and pillows. Thinking of getting a hospital bed with rails? Keep in mind that from 1985 to 2001, the US Food and Drug Administration recorded 479 incidents of patients being trapped in hospital beds, with 297 of these resulting in death.

So...maybe we shouldn't really be afraid of air travel or terrorist attacks. Maybe instead we need to start watching our steps. That 2,222nd one is a doozy!

Friday Fact: The Great Blue Fisherman

I live in a river town. As in...a river runs through it. The town(s) (there are three, really) dot the river, which wends its way beneath the peaks. Communities follow and are named for the creeks that feed the river. It is our water source and, in many ways, it is the life force of this region.

All the time my father lived here before us, I never really appreciated the river. I thought it was an ugly river, with no poetry or wildness to it, rising and falling at the will of the Power company that has dammed it. But I was wrong. Just as the coyotes that range through cities, nature adapts and adjusts to our ways, and wildness touches us in unexpected ways.

I never pass this river that I don't see fishermen wading in its waters. [Usually they are geared head-to-toe in the latest finery offered by outdoor provision companies. In this way, too, the river has lost its wildness: it is stocked and the population of fishermen rises and falls according to the Fish and Game Commission schedule. But I digress.]

Sometimes, however, I am afforded a glimpse of a different kind of fisherman. One that reminds me of what is beautiful about this river. Several mornings a week and some evenings, I will see this lone fisherman wading among the rocks: a Great Blue Heron.

Ardea herodias. Family: Ardiedae. Order: Coconiiformes.

Great Blue Herons are the largest herons in North America. Lean, tall (42"-52") birds, they have long, rounded wings, pointed bills that appear to taper at the end (dagger-like), short tails, long legs and necks. Their upper bodies (back and wings) are blue-gray, and their necks are streaked with white, rust-brown, and black. Gray feathers ring the backs of their necks and chestnut-colored feathers adorn their thighs. Males boast plume of feathers behind their heads.  

These gentle birds breed from March to May, nesting in colonies. They build their nests in trees or bushes near sources of water: marshes, swamps, lake edges, and rivers. Most of my life, I have thought that the Herons we see in Western North Carolina were either passing through or were blown off-course and out of their home coastal regions. However, I found that Great Blue Herons tend to avoid marine habits along the east coast, instead living inland and are found year-round as high as 4900 feet in elevation.

Colony size can range from a few pairs to hundreds of pairs. Females will lay between 2 and 7 pale blue eggs. Both parents incubate the eggs, taking turns sitting on the clutch to keep them warm until they hatch 26-30 days later. The chicks fledge after 2 months. The colonies stay together only during mating season, however, as Herons are solitary predators, preferring to hunt alone. They are territorial and will establish feeding ranges. So the birds that I see regularly along our community creek and further along the river are neighbors, each with his own "trout ranch."

Great Blue Herons are active mostly in the mornings and at dusk, when fishing is best, and this is when you can see them more easily, although they will fish night and day. They use their long legs to wade in shallow water and their sharp bills to spear and catch their food. They eat mostly fish, but will also prey on frogs, salamanders, lizards, snakes, small birds, shrimp, crabs, crayfish, dragonflies, grasshoppers, and other aquatic insects. They locate their food by sight and usually swallow it whole. They have been known to stand still for long periods of time, watching and waiting for a meal, striking swiftly before returning to a stoic pose.

They are quiet birds compared to their relatives. When disturbed in flight, they may emit a soft "kraak". When disturbed near their nests, the call is more of a "fraunk", and they greet each other ( and others of their species) with an "ar". In total, these herons are known to have up to seven different calls. I do not recall having ever heard one, myself. 

Once, as I was standing in our yard, I saw the profile of a heron overhead, gliding across the farm field  and down the valley. Herons have a seven foot wingspan and can fly 20-30 miles per hour. When they fly, their necks curve into an elegant "S". They day I saw this one, a long gray shape against a white gray sky, its great wings spread, its legs in a line behind, I was struck by a particular peace. I gave  thanks for this fisherman bird. This gentle creature. This touch of wildness. This grace.

I have always admired the Great Blue Heron.

Information and photos this post were taken from the University of Michigan Museum of Zoology Animal Diversity Web site.

Friday Fact. Henry Plott: His hounds, his mountains.

Every day as I drive through this town I look at these mountains, and I am in awe. They amaze and humble me with their beauty.

I am often looking upon a range of mountains called the Plott Balsams, named so by the US National Park Service upon creation of the Blue Ridge Parkway, and marked with an interpretive sign at mile marker  457.9.

The Plott Balsams are named for the same family known for the creation of the breed of dog recognized as North Carolina's state dog, the Plott Hound. So with today's Friday Fact, I am able to honor both my beautiful home and my sweet new foster child, Honey.

 

In 1750, 16-year-old Johannes Jorgen Platz left his home in Germany aboard the ship Priscilla, bound for America. With him was his older brother, who died at sea, and five dogs--three striped and two yellowish. He arrived in Philadelphia on September 12, 1750, his name now anglicized to Jonathan Plott.

After a short while in Philadelphia, young Jonathan made his way to North Carolina, taking along his dogs so that they could be used to protect him and his livestock from predators. He settled in Cabarrus County, purchased a farm, married, and raised five sons, four daughters, and a pack of hunting dogs. His family prospered, his children grew, and each left home for different parts of North Carolina, taking along their own spate of hunting dogs. At the age of 30, Jonathan's son, Henry, moved his family and pack of dogs to Canton, NC, and then moved west toward the Balsam mountains, where there was abundant game.

Henry became widely known for his hunting dogs and was often called upon to help rid his neighbors of wildlife that was attacking their livestock. When Jonathan became too old to hunt, his dogs, too, went to Henry, who, with his sons John and Amos, continued to breed and hunt the hounds. Seven generations of the Plott family bred their dogs exclusively within the family, developing a truly American breed of hound--the only American hound without British ancestry.

The breed is known today for cold-trailing raccoons and bears throughout the Appalachian, Blue Ridge, and Great Smoky Mountains. They are efficient in the search for coyotes, wolves, and wildcats. Unlike the deep-throated howl of other hounds, the Plott's voice is curiously sharp and high-pitched. Extremely hardy, the breed has been developed for its determination, strength, and courage, and will readily take on a 500-lb bear or raging boar. In addition to its trail personality, however, the Plott hound is loyal and intelligent, quick to learn, quick to love, and good with children, making them and good family companion. However, they are seldom kept as such, for most people get these dogs for the hunt.

When the Blue Ridge Parkway came through in the 1940's, the Park service honored Henry Plott, his family, and his dogs by naming for them the mountains that were their home and hunting ground. In 1989, the state of North Carolina honored the Plott Hound by naming it the official state dog. In 1998, the AKC recognized the Plott hound in the Miscellaneous category, moving them to the Coonhound category in 2007.

And that's a Friday Fact!

Information for this post was taken directly from www.dogbreedinfo.com/plotthound.htm and the website (Lucky's Plott Hound website) of Libby Bagby, whose book on the Plott Hound's history, titled Talking Plotts, is expected to be published in 2008.

The photos are by me: the first of the Balsam mountain range from the Blue Ridge Parkway, and second of our new stray friend, whom we've been calling Honey, and who appears to be someone's lost Plott Hound.

Friday Fact

A few weeks ago, June, over at Spatter, was inspired by my friend, Beth, to start a weekly meme: Friday Facts. I loved the idea but had little time, confidence...whatever to participate at first. But I guess I do know a thing or two (I am a college teacher after all), and I can certainly do some research to fill in any knowledge gaps. So here goes, my first Friday Fact post.

Canis Latrans, The Coyote

Since returning to the mountains, (gosh, has it been two years now?) we've heard the coyotes yipping at night several times, an unmistakable sound. In the rental house where we stayed for almost a year, we heard them clearly, as if beneath our window. In the cabin, we've heard them, too, sometimes running on the ridge above the house, sometimes across the creek in our neighbor's field. They're quickly drowned out by our other neighbor's hound dogs. Last year, we even got a glimpse of them. We were decorating the Christmas tree when Mom looked out the window and commented on a big dog she saw crossing the field.  Then she said there was another one and were they German Shepherds? We went out on the porch in time to see the smaller (female?) disappear into the woods, with one large male trailing behind, looking right at us haughtily. Not German Shepherds after all--coyotes with their winter coats.

Coyotes belong to the order Carnivora and Family Canidae and can be recognized by their bushy tail, long pointed nose, and pointed ears. They are about the size of a German Shepherd, but thinner and lighter. They can be distinguished from their cousins (wolves and domestic dogs) because coyotes carry their tails low when running. Also, coyotes leave very different tracks in mud or snow. Dogs usually run with their feet side-by-side, leaving two sets of parallel tracks (often meandering), with front and back feet nearly identical. In coyotes, their front feet  are slightly larger than the back feet, and shaped differently (more like a frown, while the back pad is shaped more like lips). Coyotes run by placing their back feet in the prints made by the front feet in order to conserve energy and create a single line of prints, usually straight across open areas. Coyotes can run at speed of up to 30 mph for short bursts and can maintain a 20 mph lope for longer periods.

Coyotes call in a series of short high-pitched barks and yodels. They will call at night from an open area, where the sound can travel up to 3 miles or more. As soon as they are old enough to join in hunts, the young pups begin to learn to call. Early in the summer, their sounds can be quite varied as they try to mimic their parents. A common call of the coyote is two short barks and a long wavering yodel.

Coyotes form loose family groups, rather than tight family packs like wolves. Coyote groups may form for short periods, then break apart as the food supply allows. When in larger groups, they may work together to catch larger prey (like deer). Usually they hunt alone or in pairs. One may distract and chase small prey into the waiting jaws of another coyote, and they will take turns chasing and catching.

They mate in February and dig a den under a tree, stump, or rock. A litter of 4-6 fully furred but blind pups is born about 60 days later. Both parents take responsibility in raising the pups. Weaning begins at 3 weeks and at 10 weeks they learn to hunt. By autumn (7-8 months later) they leave their parents to live on their own as adults. A pair of adult coyotes with young may have a territory of about 30 miles, marked with urine and scat. Their scat is easily identified (and we've seen it often): it looks like hairy dog droppings and may contain undigested bones, fur, feathers, or seeds.

In the wild, their diet is made up of rodents, birds, rabbits, even carrion, insects, and fruit. In urban areas, they will eat garbage, small domestic pets, and other animals (raccoons, possums, ducks, etc.).

Coyotes are found in every state in the US, although they are only indigenous to the Southwest desert. They thrive on the habitat disturbances created by humans, and have been seen in farmlands, suburban housing developments, and even major cities and urban areas. They are highly adaptable creatures that are actually quite timid with a natural fear of humans. In urban environments, however, they may have gown accustomed to the presence of humans and are often killed because of human thoughtlessness and carelessness (leaving food or garbage out to tempt the coyotes into greater human interaction).

Coyotes play a major role in many myths and legends of North American native people, and with good reason. They are adaptable, intelligent, fascinating creatures.

And that's a Friday Fact!

Much of the information for this post was taken directly from this article, by Donna Hill.