August 27, 2023: Cyanobacteria Hits Hard

This was supposed to be a cheery post about mountain hikes and close encounters with deer, bears, and wildfire smoke, as well as a beautiful paddle on one of our local lakes.  On the way home from one of these hikes, in the Ossipee Mountains, we drove by Lake Kanasatka which I've driven by a hundred times but have never paddled, and it looked so inviting that the very next day I went back with my kayak to explore the lake.  That's when things changed.  Unloading my kayak the lake looked simply beautiful - it was sunny and calm with the lake reflecting a bright blue sky.

Lake Kanasatka looks beautiful reflecting the blue sky from a distance.

But as I put my boat in the water, something wasn't right - the water at the launch was green.

It looked like a cyanobacteria bloom, but I thought it would be limited to right there where route 25 goes close by the lake.  As I paddled up the shore line it didn't get better, in fact it got worse.  

All the way up the west shore there were thick streams of cyanobacteria on the surface with more densely suspended throughout the water column, limiting visibility to about three feet.  

As I approached the north end of the lake the wind had come up a bit, creating small ripples that were stirring things up somewhat but the bloom was present even there at the inlet fed by Wakondah Pond.  I continued around and back down the east shore and as the lake became more sheltered from the breeze the bloom thickened again.  The entire shore of Kanasatka is populated with houses, docks, and beaches, but not a single person was in the water on this gorgeous day except for a few teenagers over on the east side by Camp Quinebarge.  The last camp session has ended so the swimmers were probably local residents.

Lake Kanasatka isn't a small pond where you might expect poor water quality:  At 371 acres, it's bigger than Wicwas, as well as Pemigewasset, Winona, White Pond, and many other good size lakes in New Hampshire.  If this can happen at Kanasatka, it can happen to all those water bodies and even larger lakes as water and air temperatures climb and runoff from development increases.  

This bloom was reported by NH DES on August 7th on their healthy swimming map, so it has been present for three weeks and counting.  It's a stark reminder that we must all be vigilant in protecting our natural resources.  If you want to help, get in touch with NHLakes, or a land trust such as the Lakes Region Conservation Trust, or your town's Conservation Commission, or your local lake association.  Whatever level of involvement you are comfortable with, you can help our lakes.  You can learn more about cyanobacteria at the NH DES website here.

Enough doom and gloom, lets move on to something more pleasant.  On that day hiking in the Ossipee Mountains we had clear skies with visibility over 75 miles.

Looking out over Castle in the Clouds from the Oak Ridge Trail.

We could see all the way to Mount Monadnock from the outlook on the Oak Ridge Trail.  

Lake Winnipesaukee and the Belknap Range.  Mt. Monadnock is barely visible in the photo.

Hiking up along the quiet trail we suddenly heard loud rustling in the trees above us.  Linda said right away, "that's not a squirrel".  Looking towards the sound I saw a large beech tree and we both knew what it was.  Up through the thick leaves we could see a large dark blob.  Yup, a black bear, staring right down at us.  

A black bear, displeased to be disturbed from either its slumber or its lunch.

One picture, and we were quickly on our way - I didn't even take the time to see if the beechnuts on the ground were as small as the ones I noted last week.  The bear was unlikely to abandon its comfortable perch in the branches surrounded by a feast of beechnuts, but still, no reason to test that theory.  I tagged the location - next time I'm on that trail in winter when the branches are bare (no pun intended) I'll try to remember to look for a bear nest.

The season for goldenrod has arrived.  

A sea of goldenrod blooms along Eastman Road heading up to Steele Hill.

Huge yellow fields can be seen wherever fields are allowed to grow without mowing.  Goldenrod must thrive in this wet year we've had.

Thanks to the good camera work of a loon watcher (thank you LM!) we know that the parents of LuLu and Checkers are travelling far now to keep intruding loons away from the chicks.  The banded female was seen way over in Harris Cove as part of an asylum of seven loons, where she, and probably her mate, were letting the visitors know they need to keep moving - this lake is occupied.  The chicks meanwhile have been keeping close to the north end of the lake, and even when their parents aren't close by they're now swimming and diving out in open water.

From a distance it's hard to tell the juveniles from the adults now.

Though when the parents do arrive, the young still whine terribly, nagging them for food.  

One of the chicks hangs onto a parent's leg as it starts a dive.

I'll apologized for closing with a return to less a less cheery topic, but air can be as unhealthy as the water when the horrific wildfires blazing in Canada send smoke our way as happened again early in the week, though it did make for some unusually colored skies and dramatic sunsets.

A dusky orange sky at mid-morning sky seen from the Belknap Range.

A smoky sunset over Lake Wicwas.

You just have to enjoy whatever life sends you.

September 5, 2021: Teenage Loons

Mother nature is letting us know that September is here even if we don't look at a calendar.  The days are still longer than the nights but she's giving us plenty of clues that the equinox is approaching, the most evident signs being served up by the flora around the region.  

Goldenrod blooming.

When the golden rod lights up the fields and the edges of the roads we know the days are becoming cooler.  Often intermixed with goldenrod are several varieties of wild asters.

Calico Asters.

These calico asters have tiny white blossoms that look like miniature daiseys and though the centers of these are yellow they can also develop a delicate lavender color.  

These yellow and lavender asters were seen last year in early October.

Another hint is coming from the trees.

Red maple (See the spider web?)

The red maples are always the first to betray the hopes of summer by exposing their true colors hidden from us for the past several months.  I often see them turning first near bodies of water and thought wet roots caused their early color, but I recently heard a repuatable source report that red maples at high and dry location start to turn color at the same time as those near water.  I do remain convinced that weak subjects turn earlier, supported by the fact that damaged or broken branches will start turning red in July as the nutrient flow to the leaves is restricted, slowing the process of photosynthesis.  

Animals are also telling us the season is progressing, including our two loon chicks which are certainly acting like teenagers at this point.  One of the chicks (Coco I think based on behavior - I can't tell them apart visually any more even when they are side-by-side) has been expressing her independence, spending time away from mom and her brother. (Remember, we don't really know the sex of either chick).  

One day this week she spent a long time on her own doing her morning preening.  She would slap her wings strongly against the water, sputtering along in the lake for several yards with water splashing all around her.  Then she'd preen her back feathers followed by rolling over with her belly up to work on her bright white belly feathers.  Part of what she was doing here is taking oil from her oil gland and spreading it over all her feathers to provide waterproofing for them.  Finally she would stretch up high in air and spread her wings, give them a shake to realign her feathers, then settle back into the lake.  For about 15 seconds.  Then it was lather, rinse, and repeat.  This went on for quite a while until she moved out of my sight.  This was all observed far away through binoculars so I have no pictures to share.  But another day when the family was together I did get a picture of one of the chicks spreading its wings, and wow, they have quite a wingspan now.

As big as they are, they are still happy to have mom prepare a meal for them.  

Mom cooks up breakfast.

This week I broke one of the rules of wildlife observation.  Usually when I come across an animal in its habitat I try my best to not disturb it.  This isn't possible with animals like deer which are so attentive to their surroundings that they almost always detect me long before I see them.  But when I come across a turtle sunning on a log, or a heron fishing in the marshes I try my best to sneak in a picture and then glide by quietly without interrupting its feeding or its warming of its body.  But I will make an occasional exception.

One knows what any bird will do when it perches for more than just a moment.

My sending this heron on its way gave me a chance to get a good look at its large body and strong legs which are usually hidden beneath those stupendous wings. 

There's a couple of nice drumsticks.

Heron don't really show many changes as summer advances since their young don't leave the nest until they look almost adult-like.  But there are plenty of other signs that summer is waning. 

Winterberry fruit is starting to ripen.

Winterberries will become a brilliant red and last throughout the winter as the animals slowly consume them, apparently preferring other food sources before turning to winterberry.

Finally, I want to share this great photo a friend took on Friday of  ten deer swimming in Lake Winnipesaukee from Mark Island to Bear Island.

Even the deer are on the move.  Photo by Rick Page.

Note there are a couple of young bucks in that herd.  Thanks for sharing Rick!  

It may be getting cooler, but that means some of the best outdoor activity weather of the year is just ahead!

November 22, 2020: An Avian Love Triangle

It had been a quiet week on the lake until yesterday, when on a morning walk mother nature presented me with one wonder after another.  The most dramatic was the interaction of three Hooded Mergansers: two males in a lengthy encounter over a single female.

A trio of Hooded Mergansers

When I first saw them, the two males were circling around each other with the female some distance away.

It didn't take long before the action started, with one of the males swimming aggressively at the other.

I would assume the aggressor is the current mate of the female, trying to force off a would-be courter of his girl, but there's no way to be sure.  Un-mated mergansers will pair up in the fall and stay together through the winter months.  

After a few surface attacks, the fight became more animated and resulted in airborne maneuvers.  

The flight was short, with both of them circling back toward the object of their affection.

That swoop in the water shows their flight path.

But as they got close to her the battle was on again with one turning to push the other away.

This cycle repeated several times.  

After each foray they made their way back towards the female.  It makes me wonder what she is thinking.  Is she flattered?  Is she watching to see if she wants to pick a new mate?  Or is she just appalled by the whole ordeal?

She doesn't seem to be paying any attention to their antics.

Just looking away.

At any rate, after a stretch of this behavior, she either got fed up with it or decided that the distraction of one of their fights was a good time to take off and make her escape.

Watching, waiting for the right moment to make her exit.

In the foreground of the next photo you can see the wake from where she took off in the opposite direction just before the guys landed:

But she didn't get far - both males were immediately off in hot pursuit.

Running on the water for take-off.

Airborne!

It didn't take long for them to catch up to her.

And with that, they were gone, sure to continue their challenge elsewhere on the lake.  We'll never know who was threatening and who was defending, but it was fascinating to watch the competitive forces of nature in action.

Farther along my walk I saw, way far out in the lake, what I thought was my first loon sighting in many days.  It's behavior told me it had caught a large fish, too large to swallow alive, and the loon was playing with it, tiring it out enough to swallow it.  A picture in the low light was just good enough to show this was in fact the case, and a little flash of orange indicates the bird was going to  have sunfish for breakfast.

It's an awful photo, but you can see how big the fish is.

It also looks as though it may be a merganser rather than a loon, but it's too grainy to be sure.  It seems like all our resident loons are now gone.

A few other observations from my walk:  First, the Witch Hazel have started to bloom.

A witch hazel blossom

This is the only plant I know of that blossoms in late fall, almost winter.

Second, the Hobblebush buds for next spring are already in place.

Next year's hobblebush viburnum.

Another unusual plant behavior: putting out buds in the fall.  Both of these have stories behind them, but they will have to wait for another day.

And finally, frost on the goldenrod.

Frosty goldenrod.

Even in November there's something new to see.

November 13 - Hide and Seek

An interesting old tree with a couple of inviting woodpecker holes caught my eye as I walked by on a mid-morning walk, so I stopped to take a closer look.  As I was contemplating the unusual intersection of trunk and limb, interspersed with the woodpecker holes, someone poked its head out to return my stare.

Who's out there?!

For the next eight minutes I stood motionless, the two of us sizing each other up. First the little chipmunk stayed perfectly still while it assessed the situation.

Then it climbed up the inside of the hollow tree

and stuck its head out the secret back door to see if the coast was clear on that side.

Not comfortable with what it found, it went back and forth on the spiral staircase a few times looking for a safe escape route.

Love that tail!

I was waiting for it go up to the attic and look out the third-story porthole, but it didn't oblige me this move.  Eventually it became bold enough to climb out the front door.

And finally exited its safe haven and in an instant was down the tree, running along the ground, and off to another hideaway.

The chipmunk had won this game of hide and seek, but had I been an owl, a hawk, or a fox, I wonder if it would have fared so well.


When I wasn't playing hide and seek I was enjoying another beautiful November week at the lake.  Even as the plants fade away for the winter

Goldenrod gone to seed

new beauty is revealed in the void.

Pretty, but sadly, this is an invasive species, Japanese barberry (Berberis thunbergii)

And then there are some who just refuse to let go.

It reminds of Peanuts, and Linus waiting for the final leaf to fall.

And walking one afternoon I had the sense that something was watching me, and discovered that someone else was playing hide and seek.

Tonight is the full Beaver Moon - perhaps we'll get a peek at it.

Update:  And here it is, the full Beaver Moon:

P.S.  The picture at the top of the blog is a scene that appeared one cloudy morning this week when the sun broke through a tiny hole in clouds and illuminated the far shore for about 30 seconds before closing up again.