August 30, 2026: Jack Pine

On a recent hike to Mt. Chocorua I passed through a rare natural habit, so rare in fact that it's recognized by the N.H. Natural Heritage Bureau as a critically imperiled (S1) natural community due to its small population and limited habitat.  It's the Jack Pine Rocky Ridge Natural Community, dominated by the Jack Pine tree (Pinus banksiana).  

Jack pines set root in soil held in small crevices in rock scraped bare by glaciers

In New Hampshire the jack pine is a remnant from the colder climate of the last ice age.  Because it can tolerate cold temperatures and harsh growing conditions, it was a dominant species as the glaciers melted.  As conditions improved over time, warmer climate species were able to take hold and crowd out the jack pine in most of New Hampshire and the Northeast. 

Short, sturdy needles retain moisture through dry, cold, windy winters.

Farther north in Canada's boreal forests where the climate is harsher and the growing season shorter, less hearty trees can't thrive, and jack pine continues to be a prevalent species.  But on the high elevation, wind-swept ledges of the Chocorua Range, jack pine is one of the few plants that can eke out a living in the thin acidic soils left after the ground was scraped bare by the glaciers. 

The barren landscape of Carter's Ledge on Mt, Chocorua.

Here, where less hardy trees can't compete, this rugged, boreal conifer is at the far southern edge of its present range.  The bent and twisted form of the jack pine on the Chocorua Range is testament to the harsh conditions and strong winds that can occur in the White Mountains even on mid-summer days.  

Jack pines typically have serotinous cones than remain unopened on trees for years until a forest fires with temperatures over 120 F releases their seeds. 

But jack pines in New Hampshire generally have semi- or non-serotinous cones that can release seeds on just a very hot summer day which keeps our small populations in place without fires.  However, according to Tom Wessels, the community on Chocorua has many more serotinous cones than the other New Hampshire communities.  [The Granite Landscape, Tom Wessels, 2001, Countryman Press, pg 99]  Wessels attributes this difference to the pines on Chocorua having migrated uphill from lower elevations that had frequent forest fires after the glaciers retreated.

An open jack pine cone with seeds dispersed.

Somehow, on these harsh, open ledges, jack pine continue to defy the elements, with each tree growing in the most precarious location, hanging on until eventually a strong enough wind brings its demise.

A Jack Pine clinging to the rim of Carter Ledge.

You can explore this rare community (there are only three known communities in the state) by following the Piper, Nickerson Ledge, and Carter Ledge Trails up to Carter Ledge.  You'll know it when you get there.  

Mt. Chocorua (left) and Middle Sister (right) seen from Carter Ledge.

More information on the jack pine and the jack pine natural community can be found in the book The Nature of New Hampshire by Sperduto and Kimball, or online in the Manual of Natural Communities of New Hampshire.

There's another interesting natural curiosity that anyone who's climbed Mt. Chocorua has probably noticed - this dramatic basalt dike that the Liberty trail crosses near the summit.

I'm not well versed in geology, so here's an edited version of what AI provided as a description of this particular formation.  AI referenced The Geology of the Percy Quadrangle by Chapman, and Geochemistry of mafic dikes in the Adirondack mountains by Coish and Sinton.

Hundreds of millions of years ago,  intense tectonic pressure deep underground cracked open the lighter-colored granite bedrock of the White Mountains.  Dark, molten basaltic magma was forced upward into these vertical fractures (this is called magmatic injection) and cooled relatively quickly to form narrow vertical sheets of rock known as dikes. 

As this ribbon of magma cooled between the granite walls, it shrunk and fractured at regular intervals, creating a pattern of horizontal fractures called columnar or sheet jointing.  These perpendicular breaks segmented the rock into blocky layers.  

After the glaciers stripped away the surface soil and exposed the peak, New Hampshire's weather and freeze-thaw cycles took over.  The dark basaltic rock is softer and more susceptible to chemical and physical weathering than the surrounding granite, so the dike eroded faster.  Rain and melting snow seeped into the dike's fractures, froze, expanded, and popped out blocks of the dark rock leaving the step-like features.

 Here's a close up view of the eroding dike.

The Liberty Trail crosses this fracture several times.  Just east of the summit on the Piper Trail is an area of basalt cracking where the rock is course grained and breaking away.

We spent this week north of the notches in Lancaster near the Pilot Range, which has its own interesting geology; I need to read more about that mountain range formation.  And right here at Lake Wicwas there's plenty of interesting geology to be found in the ledges and talus fields of Crockett's Ledge - maybe I'll dive into that someday.  Anyway, I didn't spend time on the lake this week, so yesterday I poked around a bit to see what's blooming here in late August.  I found the usual late summer flowers, and a couple of new ones including a foxglove and a meadow-rue.

Purple False Foxglove

A meadow-rue, perhaps King of the Meadow 

Self-heal

Yellow Wood Sorrell

Turtlehead, a fall favorite of mine.

I'll close with a sign of the waning summer:  Cat-o-nine tails starting to shed their seed cones.

There's an even more ominous sign hiding in the background, which becomes more evident with a change in focus.

Yes, leaves are starting to turn.

August 23, 2026: A Bounty of Buttons

This week I took a slow paddle around the edges of the lake exploring the late summer shoreline vegetation.  I was also looking for purple Bladderwort blooming, but it was the wrong time of day as these aquatic plants seem to bloom early in the morning.  But there were plenty of other interesting plants to be found, including many with seeds and fruit.  

Possumhaw or Wild Raisin (Viburnum nudum)

This is the same plant I found blooming on the Franconia Ridge in July.  It was supposedly named possumhaw because opossums dine on it.  The plant's fruit goes through a full spectrum of color as it ages:  It starts pinkish-white, darkens to red, then to blue, and finally in winter, it becomes black and wrinkled, resulting in its other common name of wild raisin. 

A clump of possumhaw berries showing the color progression

Early on the fruit is acidic and not very palatable, even to a animals.  This means much of it is left on the plant until winter when the sugars have become more concentrated.  At that point in the season it's a very important high energy food source for wintering animals, especially fruit-eating birds such as cedar waxwings and bluebirds (which are now year-round residents in central New Hampshire).

The next abundant crop I came upon was Arrow Wood, another viburnum species. 

Arrow wood (Viburnum recognitum)

Arrow wood fruit is soft with high energy content and will be eagerly consumed by many birds.  But not all will be consumed with a large crop, and because the berries cling to their branches, the surplus will provide another high calorie food for overwintering birds.

One more fruiting shrub, or in this case a vine, I found was grape.

Fox Grapes growing among the possumhaw and buttonbush.

There weren't a lot of these, and they were largely overgrown by all the other shoreline plants, but they were hiding in there nonetheless.  

In addition to providing food for animals, these thickets of vines and shrubs are a great deterrent for keeping geese from nesting.  Because goslings can't fly, geese prefer to nest where they can easily walk to the water.

Buttonwood is another lake-edge shrub that keeps on giving throughout the year.  Their pretty white pincushion flowers start to bloom in June and continue into July.  

Buttonbush flowers in early July.

By mid August the flowers form reddish seed pods that add a dash of color all the way through fall. 

Eventually each blossom forms dozens of small seeds that ducks feed on during the fall. 

Many tiny seeds in each button.

Over winter when food is scarce or buried under the snow, songbirds take over.  Mice will happily pick up whatever seeds the birds or the wind drop to the ground.

And though I didn't find purple bladderwort, I did find a different pretty aquatic plant in bloom:

Duck Potato (Sagittaria latifolia)

The name duck potato is partially a misnomer.  The tuber is in fact much like a small round potato that is edible, but ducks rarely dive deep enough to dig in the mud to eat them.  [Florida Wildlife Foundation]  Ducks do eat the above-water seeds, but it's beaver and muskrat that feast on the tubers.  Native Americans harvested them as well.

We've been inundated with hummingbirds the past few weeks - I think there might be two pairs that have broods nearby.  There are frequent acrobatic dogfights between adults, and multiple small hummers drinking from the flowers.  Here's a video (accompanied by Beethoven's Fur Elise) of one hummingbird sampling several flowers in a sometimes random manner.

They provide nice entertainment on a summer afternoon!

I'll end with the weekly update on Pip - looking sharp!

August 16, 2026: Flying Loons and Flourishing Fungi

I simply have to start this week with a fantastic photograph taken by Debby Crowley.  She was in her kayak watching for Pip when this caught her eye. 

Photo by Debby Crowley

Catching a loon flying fast overhead is no easy task!  An opportunity to see something like this isn't a lucky moment, but as any photographer can tell you, it's most often the result of much time spent in the field. Thank you Debby, and I'm glad you stayed upright!

One morning while I was loon watching, I caught Pip doing a foot wag. 

Now that's a foot!

Pip has now grown into a handsome young juvenile loon.

Pip will be dressed in this chevron plumage through the rest of its summer and fall here on Wicwas, so even as it grows, it will be distinguishable from all the other loons on the lake.

Much easier to photograph than an airborne loon was this osprey, perched stationary on one of its favorite lookouts points on Lake Wicwas.

This tall spike of a tree is on the southeast corner of Wood Island with a broad view of the lake. 

This section of lake is a prime spot to look for osprey diving into the lake to catch fish.  A good time to watch is late afternoon and evening on a clear, calm day.  If you see a raptor soaring overhead, stop and watch a while from a distance and you might get a show. 

When I was scouring the tree tops for osprey and eagles, I saw an indication that this might be a good mast year for white pine. 

A good crop of green cones on the tall pines.

Lots of birds and small mammals will appreciate this bounty come winter.

The evening primrose have bloomed and I've been checking in the morning for the pretty primrose moth, but I haven't seen one yet.  

Evening Primrose, with no moths, just a beetle.

If you see one you'll know it.  With soft pink and white coloring, it's one of the prettiest moths you'll ever see.

In the forest, there were some new sights this week.  Mushroom season is picking up speed now and Indian Pipes are decorating the hiking trails in damp areas. 

In another somewhat damp areas I came across this small, delicate plant, one I haven't seen before. 

Woodland Horsetail at Page Pond.

It's a Wood Horsetail, a perennial.  Just like the club moss (see Sept 20, 2015) horsetails are decendents of huge trees that grew a hundred feet tall in the Carboniferous period 300 million years ago.  Today's horsetail species max out at about 20". 

Finally, to end the week, here's a pretty melody courtesy of a Song Sparrow singing its heart out one morning.

Whatever the song sparrow might lack for flamboyant plumage, it makes up for with its voice.

August 9, 2026: Life at the lake slows down, but it never stops

August is a time when things slow down around the lakes.  Most animals are done nesting and keeping a low profile as they raise and protect their young.  Birds are mostly quiet and mammals keep to safe, secluded areas.  But there is still life to be found.  Several summer birds - vireos, thrushes, chickadees, even owls - can be heard calling even on the warmest summer afternoons.  Insects are trilling at night, as are frogs and toads.  And sometimes, life hops out right in front of you when you least expect it.

Pickerel Frog

This pickerel frog leapt out of a flower pot onto the deck when I was watering Linda's begonias.

Finding shady areas with damp soil in her flowers must be a favorite trick frogs use to keep cool and damp because this occurred multiple times in various flower pots during this hot, dry week.

An observant person on Harris Cove noticed another summer resident finding a way to cool off on a hot day.  They first thought a beaver was swimming across the lake, but when it reached shore and emerged from the water, it was something a bit larger than a beaver.

A Black Bear climbs out of the lake after a refreshing swim across Harris Cove.

Thank you SM and JH for sharing!

Then of course, there's the most visible sign of life around the lake - the loons.  Loons really have no place to hide, which means we get to observe the entire offspring-raising process.  

Pip on August 7th, halfway through its molt of baby fuzz to juvenile plumage.

Each summer on Lake Wicwas has been different and interesting ever since a second pair of loons appeared on the lake in 2016 after decades of just one pair having the lake to themselves.  After the first year - when the two pairs fought over the lake all summer - they made a peace agreement, dividing the lake in half, with each pair keeping to their side.  Until now that is, when there have been six loons on the lake most of the summer.  Friday morning I observed an altercation between five loons right at the dividing line.  It began with four of them doing aggressive circle dancing with lots of head dipping, diving, wing rowing and calling. 

Four loons in an aggressive circle dance.

Then the fifth showed up, steaming in from the north territory - I'm guessing it was the northern male.  Things settled down pretty quickly then.  One of the five - presumably the northern male - headed back to the north and the other four went south, two pushing the other two along. 

Putting together all the pieces I've observed over the summer, I have theory:  A third pair has decided it wants to claim territory on Wicwas.  My observations are consistent with both territorial pairs pushing these new intruders out of their territory, so the newcomers are getting squeezed on both sides into the demilitarized zone at the boundary.  

We know the northern male is especially large.  (When he was banded, his legs were too large for any of the metal bands the LPC had, which is why he wears only  a single plastic band.)  My theory includes the south pair experiencing the brunt of the intruders attempt to claim a territory.  This could explain why the south pair abandoned an egg half way through the incubation period - they were too busy defending their territory to tend to it.  It would also explain why we often see Pip left alone while the parents are chasing the intruders back out of their territory.  I watched one aggressive chase with wing-rowing and calling as one loon chased another out of Marion Cove.

I won't be surprised if we have a third pair appear next summer to continue their mission to nest on Lake Wicwas.

Here's another example of late-summer activity; this one needs video:

Fortunately, these are non-biting insects, just male midges swarming in search of females with which to mate.

Thanks to the recording made by association secretary Dean Dexter at last week's Lake Wicwas Association annual meeting, I was able to create a video of my presentation "The Formation of a Gem".  You can find it here:  The Formation of a Gem

I'll close with a new (for me) aquatic plant I found during my recent weed watch tour - it's small, native, representative of good water quality, and pretty too.

Water Lobelia (Lobelia dortmanna)

Enjoy all the glory of New Hampshire in August!

August 2, 2026: Lake Wicwas Annual Meeting - The Making of a Gem

When I was asked to be the speaker for the Lake Wicwas Association annual meeting, my first thought was how about many people have told me this lake is "a gem".  That got me wondering just why it's such a gem - what makes this particular lake so special.  So I spent the week looking at the many aspects of how Lake Wicwas became the gem it is today, and I decided that's what I would present:  how this gem came to be.  The presentation was recorded, and I'll post it on the journal when it's available.  But for now, here's a link to the charts and a short summary of the discussion.

Formation of a Gem - A Natural Tour of Lake Wicwas

I began with a story of how the lake was formed during and immediately following the most recent ice age in North America. 

I then introduced the most important factor in changing the barren landscape that was left behind:  the beaver. 

Before the beavers came and did their work, Wicwas may have just been a muddy swamp with a stream running along the present northern bank. 

But as beavers dammed the stream up, a lake began to take shape.  It likely remained smaller than today for the 12,000 years the Native Americans lived here before the Europeans arrived and started building mills on beaver dams to power gristmills.  As the need for larger and more powerful mills arose, they raised and reinforced these dams for greater water storage.  The first mills in all of Meredith were right next door to where we were sitting in Meredith Center; the original stone mill foundations, and even a newer water turbine, can still be seen in the Mill Brook where it crosses under Meredith Center Road. 

The dam at the outlet of Wicwas was raised to store more water so it could be released all year long to power mills throughout the year.  As the need for better roads arose, the dam was built up again to keep the road over the dam from flooding, though Meredith Center Road does still flood during major rain events.  This final improvement brought the lake to its current size and depth, though beavers continue to provide critical benefits including water filtering, erosion control, water storage, and flood control.

A gem has many facets.  The remainder of the presentation showed some of the many perspectives of the lake - there are so many different ways people appreciate our gem:  peaceful reflection, recreation,  social connections, and family heritage spanning generations.

And then there are the non-human ways in which the lake is seen as not only beautiful, but absolutely essential to life for so many animals, large and small, that depend on the lake for their very existence.  

Seeing, understanding, and marveling at their existence circles right back as a huge factor in why we human inhabitants see Lake Wicwas as a true gem indeed.

In what special ways do our lakes shine for you?