May 12, 2024: Iron Mines

There's an old iron mine on the western flank of Gunstock Mountain which I'd never been to, but the Town of Gilford and the Lakes Region Conservation Trust recently improved the trail to the mines so I decided I would check it out.  It's a short, half-mile hike up the the site, and along the way there is a very nice viewpoint looking out over Gilford.

Viewpoint on the Iron Mines Trail

The mines themselves - there are two sites - are small and not very impressive to look at, but the story is interesting.  

One of two sites where iron ore was mined from the Belknap Mountains

The mines contained very-high quality iron ore, so high in fact that some was used directly without being smelted.  But the deposits were small, and the mine didn't last long.  There's a short history posted on the kiosk at the trailhead.

What I find most interesting is that someone discovered the iron deposit in the first place, just two small veins located on a large mountain range.  Were there specific topological or geological aspects that attracted their attention?   Did the magnetite in the rock make their compass act erratically? Something led them to discover the deposit, and if known, that would be a interesting part of the story.

The Iron Mines Trail connects to the large trail network in the Belknap Range that runs all the way to Mt. Major in Alton.  I continued on, completing a loop over Gunstock and Belknap, taking advantage of the nice late-spring day with no bugs and clear sightlines through empty branches.

There is still snow in the White Mountains.

Snow on Mt. Washington, seen from the summit of Gunstock.

And on the ski trails.

Flintlock Trail at Gunstock.  This is the trail one can see from Clough Park in Meredith Village

The waters of Winnipesaukee were shining blue from the ledges on Belknap. 

Of course, I had to climb the fire tower.

Back on Lake Wicwas, the wakening forest is entering the mellow-yellow, lemon-lime phase.

Blue water on Wicwas too.

Paddling on that blue water this week I had an exciting moment when I came across a single loon that was banded - with a color scheme I'd never seen before!

Orange with black dot over yellow with black stripe.

I sent the information off to the Loon Preservation Committee, but they were only able to narrow it down to three loons based just left leg bands.  The next day the same loon was here again and I waited patiently hoping to get a right foot wag, but the bird wasn't cooperating.  I did get one fuzzy photo of its right leg under water, but that was enough for the LPC biologists to determine its identity:  It's a loon that was rescued on January 18th of this year on Paugus Bay in Winnipesaukee.  The warm weather this winter had let it stay so long that it had molted its flight feathers and couldn't leave when the bay finally froze over.  The team at LPC are thrilled to know their rescue effort was successful.  Now we'll watch to see if this loon sticks around at Wicwas, and if so, what kind or turmoil develops during nesting season.  You can read the Loon Preservation Committee's report on the rescue here.

While the loons may not have even selected a nesting site yet, the geese have already hatched goslings as seen in this picture from Jim DeMott.

Six little goslings.  Photo by Jim DeMott.

If all the geese on the lake this year have this many chicks, it's going to be a big year for geese.

Paddling down near the outlet I saw this creature swimming across the lake straight towards a beaver lodge, so I thought is was a beaver - though strange to be out in the middle of the day.  But it turned out to be a muskrat.  

A muskrat - note the thin rat-like tail.

It's always fun to see something different on the lake.  

I'll end by noting that the Serviceberry (aka Shadbush) are blooming, and it's about time to look for native cherry trees in bloom.  Here's one more picture from my hike in the Belknaps - a pretty Roundleaf Yellow Violet.

Roundleaf  Yellow Violet (Viola rotundifolia)

Now there's a nice Oxymoron.

May 5, 2024: Boats and Birds are back on the Lake

Docks are going in and boats are appearing on the lake - sure signs that summer is approaching.  The April showers have come and gone and the lake is down to its proper summer level - just in time as both pairs of our nesting loons have returned and started scouting for nesting sites.  I got on the lake a couple of times, and on one of my kayak trips I watched a hawk fly over the lake right towards me and land high on an island I was paddling beside.    

Broad-winged Hawk.  (Buteo platypterus)

The broad-winged Hawks have returned.  These are hawks I often see and hear soaring over the lakes and trees in summer.  Their strongly banded tail is visible as they fly, and their high-pitched whistle is easily heard piercing the summer sky. 

Photo credit:  David Brown

New Hampshire's broad-winged hawks migrate 4000 miles twice a year, back and forth from Central America, and these birds are survivors.  Fossil records show they have been on the planet for 400,000 years.  [Ref:  Cornell Lab of Ornithology]  Cornell also states they usually nest "far from areas of human disturbance," another indicator that the conserved areas around Wicwas are supportive of wildlife species that need large unfragmented lands.

Later on the paddle I saw motion far across the lake in a marsh.  I couldn't see what it was but took a picture to blow up later, and saw that it was a Great Blue Heron.  And it had some huge object in its beak.

Is that a fish?  It doesn't look like a snake.  The photo is too poor to tell.

The herons have been back for a while now but many warblers arrived just this week.  I saw or heard Yellow-rumped, Black-throated Green, and Blackburnian warblers as well as Oven Birds.  

Lots of animals are taking advantage of the trees that got blown into the lake, not just the beavers.  I've seen painted turtles sun bathing on them as well as this heron which was using one felled tree as a fishing platform.

Amy and Russ found the Harris Cove loons preening one afternoon and were able to identify both of them by their bands.  This provided the confirmation that both nesting pairs are back.

The Harris Cove male.  Photo by Amy Wilson.

The two pairs seem to be sharing the lake well so it looks like we're set for another successful breeding season.  Between these two pairs, Lake Wicwas has fledged nine new loons over the past five years.

I also caught a glimpse of two deer strolling the woods.

I think they might have been yearlings still traveling together as both appeared rather small.  White-tailed deer are curious animals and they watched me for a while, eventually deciding I wasn't a threat, but they walked slowly up into thicker woods just to be safe.

The spring flora is also starting to rev up now.  This week I saw my first Trillium, a purple one.

Purple Trillium (Trillium erectum) in Hamlin.

Fiddleheads are poking up in and around wetlands.

Also Violets, the Sweet White and Common Blue, as well as Trailing Arbutus, are in bloom.

Trailing Arbutus (Epigaea repens)

There's a lot going on around the lake in spring, and there's only a short time left to enjoy it all without dealing with the bugs.  All those Phoebes and warblers fliting through the bare branches show that bugs are back on the lake too.

April 28, 2024: Spotted Salamanders and Vernal Pools

Spring is full speed ahead now and everywhere you look you see it, whether on land, water, or in the air.  I'll start on land with these beautiful Red Maple blossoms bursting out with a bright blue spring sky behind them.

Red Maple blossoms.

Red maples are among the first trees to push out flowers and leaves, and where there is a large stand of them the whole forest can take on a red tinge.  

Next onto the airborne signs of spring.  The early migrants are starting to arrive in the Lakes Region; on one morning walk I heard or saw no less than 19 different bird species including my first warbler, the yellow-rumped, a blue-headed vireo, and a hermit thrush.  There is no sound in the forest that's more comforting than the gentle, soothing flute of a hermit thrush.  The phoebes on the other hand, are anything but soothing.  Although a joy to hear, their call is loud, raspy, and somewhat harsh, and right now they are really making their presence known.  Mr. Phoebe will sit outside on those red maples by the lake singing his heart out. 

Eastern Phoebe in a Red Maple.

And it's great fun to watch them flit up to catch an insect then return to their branch to wait for the next tiny morsel to fly by.  I can't imagine how many gnats and black flies (yes, the black flies are out) they must consume every day.  He makes quite a racket in the process of letting every other phoebe in a wide area know he's there.

Now on to the water, and water is always a great source of life in spring.  One of Meredith's Conservation Commissioners sent me this video of water collected from a vernal pool this spring.  Vernal pools are critical bodies of water for certain animals because they dry out in summer which means fish can't live in them, making them essential breeding habitat for small animals that would be quickly gobbled up by fish, either as eggs or as small larvae.  In this video there are a number of different species, including amphibians, insects, and, I think, fairy shrimp, the larger animal in the center of the video near the end.

This description of vernal pools, provided by another commissioner (thank you RP) is from the Appalachian Trail Conservancy:

Vernal pools are hotspots of life and biodiversity. Certain species, such as spotted, Jefferson, and marbled salamanders, wood frogs, and fairy shrimp (small, hearty crustaceans), need vernal pools to complete their lifecycles. Although they spend most of their lives on dry land, these species would not be able to survive without mating, laying eggs and developing in vernal pools. For that reason, they are called “obligate” species, meaning they are required — or obligated — to use a vernal pool. Other species like spring peepers, snails, clams, spotted and Blanding’s turtles, dragonflies and caddisflies use vernal pools but can also survive in other wetlands. The animal life in vernal pools is also a food source for predators, including great blue herons, racoons and insects.

And as if that's not enough to appreciate vernal pools, look at this gorgeous salamander Linda discovered while gardening yesterday.

Spotted Salamander (Ambystoma maculatum)

The yellow-spotted salamander is a large mole salamander; this one was over six inches long.

Like most salamanders, the spotted salamander spends almost its entire life below ground, burrowing under large rocks, rotten logs, or under the leaf litter, eating slugs, spiders, insects, and algae.  They emerge for only a few days in the spring to make their way to a vernal pool to mate.  The mating ritual includes a dance routine by the male, which if successful, will result in a female following it to the water to lay her eggs.  These predator-free vernal pools are essential to the survival of these amphibians which are a rare treat to find.  We found this one under a large flower pot that spent the winter outside, and we carefully replaced the pot to restore its well-sheltered home.  

You can read more about vernal pools here. 

Speaking of vernal pools and water, a friend on the lake came across a neat poem titled "Lake Wicwas" which she sent to me. (Thank you SD!) 

Lake Wicwas

I glide my paddle through the water,
pull toward the island, the lilies
on the surface parting at the bow.
My friend up ahead marks the path,
I find clarity in what is no longer hidden --
the sand and the rocks, minnows, and a can.
Now the only ripples cast are our own --
no thought of the election, no screech
of the prophet or of the abyss.

I glide my paddle through the water
and follow her, the artist maker,
translator of earth, and the way, and yes,
we are kayaking Lake Wicwas,
crossing the earth and the water,
the surface written and revised
by the seen and the unseen.

We glide our paddles through the water.
The lake reflects the cloudless morning sky --
blue heron glides, her wings arched upward
as we slow and hover, floating
between island and shore,
and turn to what cannot be known.

What cannot be known.  Well said.  This is in a book of poems about New Hampshire's lakes, ponds, and streams titled "Water Ways" by William O'Daly with essays and photography by J.S. Graustine.  O'Daly lives in California, but Graustine is a Meredith local.  Here's a description of the book by publisher Folded Word Press:  

From the Connecticut Lakes to the Seacoast, Otter Brook to the Salmon Falls River, and the circumnavigation of Lake Winnipesaukee, the poems, essays, and photographs in this book celebrate New Hampshire’s gateways to “the most serene surface, the silence / of what we no longer remember: who we are, / to whom the loon calls across the emptiness.”

Innisfree Bookshop doesn't carry it, but you can find it at Folded Word Press.

I wonder if there's a poem in there about paddling on a beaver pond in spring.

April 21, 2024: First Wildflower

I noted my first wildflower of the year at Page Pond on April 16th, a Coltsfoot.  (I don 't count introduced species like crocuses and snowdrops.)

Coltsfoot, April 16

Like most things this year, it's ahead of schedule.  Coltsfoot usually blooms in the first week of May and the earliest I've seem them previously is April 29th.  I'll be looking for the Trailing Arbutus to bloom next.

The lake level continues to be high though it has come down quite a bit over the last few days.  The high water may be raising havoc with the Canada geese finding sufficient nesting sites.  I've watched pairs of geese tangling with each other, apparently one pair defending their nesting site from an intruding pair.

If you're boating on the lake in the next few weeks, be careful of floating debris in the water from the recent storm.  There are lots of logs floating just under the surface and several large trees still making their way around the lake including this large one currently stuck on the bottom down towards the dam.

Photos by Dean Cascadden.

There's also a lost umbrella base floating in the lake, looking like a white submarine with its periscope up.  If you recognize it let me know and we'll get it back to you.

Up Periscope.  (Note the log also in the picture.)

All the trees in the lake have been a bonanza for the beavers who are finding easy foraging for food without having to cut their own trees down.

Branches gnawed clean of their bark.

Calmly enjoying an easy meal in the lake.

Good news on the loon front:  Just yesterday I confirmed our northern banded-loon pair has returned for the summer.  Earlier I had seen the female alone and caught sight of her bands.

All four bands are visible.

This is the female of the pair that raised LuLu and Checkers last year; she was banded on Lake Pemigewasset in 2018 and has been on Wicwas since 2021 when she evicted our prior banded female.  Then yesterday a pair of loons came by and I was able to get a look at its white band with black dot to determine it's LuLu and Checker's father, as well as another glimpse of the female.  

You can just barely make out the male's band on its left leg.

So the 2024 loon mating season has begun.  We'll be monitoring the lake level carefully now to keep it as steady as we can which won't be easy as those beavers are already packing the dam with all those branches blown down.

One more pair of breeding animals before I end:  The wood ducks appear to have taken up home here, so keep your eye open in a few weeks for mother wood duck and what is often her large brood of chicks.

Mrs. Wood Duck on her morning tour of the lake.

Take advantage of these last few bug-free days to get outside - the black flies will be here way too soon.

April 14, 2024: Eclipse

Well, the eclipse of 2024 stole the show for this week, and perhaps this decade, but I'll first record the dates of some spring milestones for the journal.  I saw my first phoebe on Tuesday, April 9th, and heard the first wood frogs singing in the vernal pools that same warm evening.  On my first kayak trip of the year I found Canada geese nesting on an island, not in the marsh, because the lake level is so high their usual location in the marsh is flooded.  There should be more signs of spring to report next week.

So, the eclipse.  Certainly the northeast lucked out on the weather with perfect atmospheric conditions in northern New New Hampshire to observe the celestial event of the century.  Linda and I decided to take the trip up to Colebrook to get a full three minutes of totality during the eclipse, and it was worth every second of the drive up and back - all eight hours of it coming home.

I'll start by saying I found the people around us to be the most polite and jubilant large crowd I've ever experienced.  Even standing in long lines to get coffee everyone was happy and sharing stories.  I met one person who lives in Texas and was planning to watch the eclipse in San Antonio.  But when she saw the Texas forecast on Sunday, she bought a plane ticket to Boston and drove up to Colebrook that morning!   Even the drivers in the massive traffic jam heading home were courteous - everyone was still stunned by what they just witnessed, and the long drive gave us lots of time to ponder what we had experienced.

Having arrived early we found a comfortable spot in a large field with a good view and watched other  eclipse observers file in - the anticipation was building.  

The event started at 2:17 pm when the moon took its first bite out of the sun.  (The following pictures were taken with a solar filter on the camera.)

Over the next hour the sun was slowly gobbled up, the light dimming so slowly that my eyes adjusted and I wasn't really aware it was getting darker until perhaps 75% of the sun was blocked.  

The colors changed as the sun was covered, though it didn't have the same hue as a normal sunset.  Even with over 95% of the sun blocked the scene was still quite bright.

This was only about 30 seconds away from totality.

The temperature dropped and the wind picked up; I put on my coat.  As it got noticeably darker, the crowd got quieter and quieter.  The wind stopped.  Someone noted that birds were flying off to find a safe spot for the night.  Stars appeared.  There was a sunset on the horizon for 360 degrees as darkness loomed.

By the time there was just the smallest sliver of sun showing, the crowd fell silent.  

Then, a truly magical moment occurred - it was like a light switch.  According to Dr. Angela Speck, chair of the Physics and Astronomy department of the University of Texas at San Antonio, even at 99.9% partial eclipse, there is still at least 100 times more light coming from the sun than during totality, and when that last sliver of sun went instantly dark, the most fabulous ring of light appeared around the moon. 

The silence was burst with a huge cheer, gasps, hoots and hollers.  Safely taking off the dark glasses and filters from the camera and binoculars, the sight was truly astonishing.  Through the binoculars you could clearly see the red solar prominences that are produced by plasma, super-heated gases in the sun's surface which emit red light (think of the light from a helium-neon laser). 

Solar prominences, hot plasmas containing highly charged helium and hydrogen gas.

These don't show up well in my pictures but you probably saw excellent images from telescopes photographing the event.  During totality I took a couple of photographs with different exposure times to capture the corona which is the hot outer atmosphere around the sun, visible only during a total eclipse.  The longer exposures capture the dimmer parts of the corona farther from the sun while over-exposing the bright edge around the moon.  

This exposure was 1/15 of a second; the prior image was 1/250th of a second.

Just as quickly as totality arrived, it left.  In an instant we were blinded by a flash of just 0.01% of the sun; we had to look away, and it was over.  It was three minutes of magic, followed by another hour of the sun slowly returning to normal.  

The factors that came together to allow Linda and I and thousands of others to experience this celestial miracle are hard to fathom.  In addition to the weather, the size of the sun and moon, and their distance from earth, all conspired in this fleeting moment in of wonder.  There was more than one discussion about whether the nearly identical size of the the sun and moon as viewed from our planet is a highly improbable coincidence or whether there is some divine or scientific aspect to it.  Do these particular parameters have a correlation with the establishment of life on earth?  The natural world provides endless questions to ponder.  

It was only three minutes, but it's three minutes of my life that will be remembered; that image is burned into my mind forever.