May 3, 2026: Boneyard Beach

During our visit to South Carolina last week, we went on an excursion to Capers Island, the southern tip of 66 miles of protected barrier islands which starts just north of Isle of Palms.  We walked a long stretch of the shoreline facing the open Atlantic Ocean, through a habitat called a boneyard beach. 

The name stems from the dead, weathered tree trunks that resemble dried bones.

These are mostly oak trees, who's strong wood can survive the harsh elements for many years as the ocean advances.  There are also palmetto trees on these shorelines, but due to their soft wood, they are worn away soon after the ocean descends upon them. 

Live palmetto trees at the highwater mark with recently killed trees in the intertidal zone.

Barrier islands on the east coast are losing an average of 15 feet of land per year.  Some years they lose none, others they may lose 50 feet or more. Despite the efforts to hold back erosion on developed islands such as Isle of Palms, each time we visit, the ocean has clawed its way closer to the structures on the beach.  

While in the lowcountry, I saw a couple of shorebirds I haven't seen before, both of which do make appearances on the New England Coast.  The most interesting was the American Oystercatcher.  This is the only bird in our area that has the ability to open hard-shelled mollusks such as oysters, the bird's primary food source.  And an oyster bed exposed at low tide is exactly where I found it. 

American Oystercatcher searching an oyster bed for a good prospect.

Oystercatchers roost away from the shoreline at hightide, but as soon as the tide goes out enough to expose the oyster beds, they swoop in to look for vulnerable oysters.  The preferred method to consume an oyster is to thrust its sharp beak into a slightly open oyster and immediately sever the muscle that the bivalve uses to clamp its shell shut. 

Oysters exposed at low tide.  (I ate a few of these last week!)

Once severed, it's easy pickings to pluck out the good parts.  This process however, isn't risk-free.  It the bird misses the hinge muscle, the mollusk can clamp down on the bird's beak holding it in place, and if the oyster is securely attached to the ground, the bird will be held captive until the tide rises, which could mean the demise of the bird.  A second, safer, but more labor intensive method, is to hammer away at the oyster until the shell cracks, at which point it can reach in to cut the muscle and open the shell.  [Ref:  Cornell Lab of Ornithology]

The other new bird I saw was a Whimbrel, which doesn't spend much time on the New England coast.  It stops here only to refuel on its way between breeding grounds in the arctic and its summer domicile anywhere from the mid-Atlantic to the southernmost tip of South America.

Hudsonian Whimbrel on  the mudflats of Pitt Street Bridge 

The whimbrel uses it equally highly adapted bill to consume a different form of seafood, crustaceans, with its preferred dinner being the fiddler crab.  It uses its long, curved beak to probe down the fiddler crab's tunnel in the mud to extract it, often eating it whole, but perhaps removing its claws and legs first.  [Ref:  Cornell Lab of Ornithology]

Fiddler crabs in South Carolina

One more animal I'll mention is a mink that we saw running along the edge of a saltwater marsh at the Pitt Street Bridge.

A mink still damp from its swim in the saltmarsh.

It was behaving just like the minks at Lake Wicwas which travel the shoreline of the lake, moving back and forth between land and water using their excellent swimming and running abilities as they hunt for food.

Back home in New Hampshire, I was happy to see the Trailing Arbutus had bloomed.

Trailing Arbutus - the sweetest little flower you'll ever meet.

These incredibly sweet smelling flowers are the first of the deep forest flowers to bloom, and will soon be followed by many others.  It's also called the Mayflower, supposedly named by the Pilgrims in the first spring after arriving in Plymouth, and named for the boat that brought them to America.  It was voted the state flower of Massachusetts by the school children in 1918.

The red maples were just starting to put out their pretty red flowers as we left New Hampshire to head south.

Red maple flowers.

By the time we returned, small leaves and seed stalks had formed.

One more warm day and I expect lots of things will pop!

October 13, 2024: Anthocyanin

It sounds scary, but anthocyanin is what produces the red and crimson foliage that makes New Hampshire famous this time of year.  

Red Maples are the red champions of the autumn nature show.

Yellow and orange colors in leaves are present year-round but are only revealed in the fall when the leaves stop producing the chlorophyll that conceals their underlying colors. 

Photosynthesis ceases at the leaf tips first and works back towards the stem.

Trees with red leaves, however, actually create the pigment anthocyanin as they shut down photosynthesis in the fall.  They don't do it for our viewing pleasure or to extend the tourist season, but rather because the chemical helps protect plants against cold temperatures.

Black gum are less prevalent than maples but have even deeper red color in their leaves.

They use some of the sugars created over the summer to form this compound.  Anthocyanin is produced by a wide variety of plants with red, blue, and purple coloring including blueberries, tomatoes, red cabbage, beets, grapes, corn, even sweet potato.  It's one of several chemicals in the flavonoid family which are known to have antioxidant and anti-inflammatory benefits to humans.

Indian Cucumber has only a splash of anthocyanin.  The berries aren't edible, but the tubers are.

The color of these plants varies because anthocyanin changes color with pH level:  it is red in acidic conditions, purple in neutral, and yellow in alkaline conditions.  The chemical is thus useful in measuring pH levels - remember pH strips in high school chemistry?  Wikipedia provides lots of information on anthocyanin if you're interesed in learning more.

Jack-in-the-pulpit berries must be quite acidic.

Sumac is another red star this time of year.

Blueberry bushes are known to love acidic soil, and their leaves also turn dark red in the fall.

These were at 2400' elevation on the ledges up to Black Mountiain.

Black Mountain State Forest is in Haverhill and Benton, NH, and though the foliage there seemed past peak that far north on Friday, it was still pretty.

Thank you TB for the recommendation - it was a great hike!  

Around the Lakes Region, the maples are still at peak color.  I'll end with a few sights from around Lake Wicwas.

It's not too lake to take it all in!

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 23, 2023: Ducks in a Tree

They're called "Wood Ducks" for a reason.  A large bird flying high through the forest caught my eye on my morning walk.  It was about the size of crow and landed on a branch high in a tree.  I knew it wasn't a crow, but what else is that size?  When it started calling I recognized the call as that of a wood duck, and soon a second started returning the call.  Tracking the sound, I was able to find both ducks through the leafless branches.

Mrs. (above) and Mr. (below) Wood Duck in search of a nesting site.

I never think of ducks in trees.  But wood ducks make their nests in holes in trees, as high as 50 feet above the ground and up to a mile away from water; this pair was about a tenth of a mile from the lake.  

I saw them early in the morning which is the time that wood ducks search for nesting sites.  They can't make their own holes, so they search through mature forests looking for existing suitable holes to use.  They occasionally will use an old woodpecker cavity, but usually they find a natural hole left where a branch broke off and the wood around the wound rotted away.  

I was tempted to try to get closer, but decided not to disturb them from their search and went on my way.  Maybe we'll have baby wood ducks on the lake this summer - incubation time is four to five weeks so watch for them in late May.

On this early morning walk with no leaves out yet I was also able to see two beaver lodges that have been improved this spring with fresh mud and new sticks.  

The second lodge is hard to see - it's on the left, just in front of large rock on the shore.

This is the time of year when two year old beavers are kicked out the lodge to build their own home.  Unfortunately, this results in beavers crossing roads in search of new territory, and one was killed on Meredith Center Road right by the dam where it was probably crossing between the lake and the marsh below the dam.

Last week's warm weather convinced the red maples that it was time to bloom and out popped their small red flowers.

Red Maple flowers on Tuesday, April 18th.

Red maple are the first of the large deciduous trees to put out buds, and soon, leaves.

Finally, the first woodland flowers are blooming - the Trailing Arbutus - which are always the first I see to bloom.

Trailing Arbutus (Epigaea repens) bloomed on Monday, April 17th.

It's a sign that many plants will soon be showing their spring colors.

Late breaking news, just before this went to press:  We have confirmation from Amy Wilson that our "northern" pair of resident loons is back on the lake.  If you look carefully you can see the white band with black dot on the male loon, and a green band on the female loon.  

Male with White band with black dot.  Photo by Amy Wilson.

Female with green and silver band.  Photo by Amy Wilson.

Amy reports several other loons have been on the lake, but no observations of bands that would confirm the "Harris Cove" pair is back.  Stay tuned....

May 2, 2021: Yellow-rumped Warblers

The procession of song bird migration to New England is running at full speed right now as an explosion of insects bursts out all around us.  I've already had the pleasure of the first swarm of black flies dive-bombing my eyes and buzzing like chainsaws as they probe my ear canals.  As much as I may despise these annoying creatures, they are what allow so many of our animals to survive, from song birds to trout, and this week a large flock of yellow-rumped warblers arrived at the lake to gorge on the plentiful feast, hungry from their long travel up from the south.  We counted about 15 of them, but there were certainly many more on either side of our field of view.  They would perch momentarily on a tree branch, a railing, or a dock post before flitting off to snag a tiny, tasty morsel.

Yellow-rumped warbler (Setophaga coronata)

These warblers have a distinctively different attack method than the eastern phoebe.  The phoebes seem to jet out on a direct path to their target, snatch it immediately at full speed, then circle right back to their observation post where they wait for their next victim.  They will occasionally make a minor flight adjustment right at the point of attack and sometimes have a little twitch of their wings, but in general they are very efficient.  In contrast, these warblers spent a lot time suspended in the air with their wings fluttering madly as they maneuvered to grasp their prey.  Their flight path is still fast and unpredictable enough that I was unable to catch any action pictures at all.

I considered whether the difference in the two birds' behavior is due to going after different insects but what from what I could find, they have the same target food.  Furthermore, both species were feeding together in the same location at the same time (and tolerating each other just fine) so perhaps it's just that the phoebe has much better flight planning and targeting skills.

An Eastern phoebe stalks its prey amongst the maple blossoms.

At least some of the warbler flock made its way over to the western side of the lake as Marge Thorpe observed them reducing the bug population over there.  She took some great pictures, then she and Dave did some research, and noting there are two subspecies of yellow-rumped warblers, determined these are the "Myrtle" subspecies, identified by the white throat.

A good look at the white throat of the Myrtle subspecies.
Photo by Marge Thorpe

These populate the east coast, while the "Audubon" subspecies, which has a yellow throat, live on the west coast.  In areas where the two subspecies overlap such as in the Canadian Rockies, intermediate forms of the bird occur. [Ref:  Cornell Ornithology Lab.]

"Who you lookin' at?"
Photo by Marge Thorpe

We also had a visit from mother deer and junior recently, but it was bittersweet because there was only one of the two siblings we watched all last summer.  

Momma deer (does she look pregnant again?)

And last year's fawn.

I'm afraid the other sibling met its demise this past winter, and was in fact the source of the remains I found on the lake back in early March (see March 7, 2021).  The remaining yearling looks pretty small and weak; I assumed the coyotes took advantage of its sibling's weakened winter condition, but it's also possible the deer died of its own accord and the coyotes just cleaned up the remains.  

Then, just this morning, in the early light of day, I came upon the two of them munching away on my favorite hobblebush shrub, which being out in the middle of the woods, they are welcome to enjoy, and enjoy they did, decimating all the fresh, tasty blossoms below chest level.

There won't be any berries for the birds from this viburnum bush.

Once they saw me they were off into the thick woods with five quick bounds, but they didn't go far, stopping to look back at me to watch where I was going.

"Can I please finish my breakfast?"

I expect they'll be back shortly to finish off the higher branches.

Deer dessert.

At least the flowers are going to a good cause, fueling the new fawns growing in momma's belly.

On another happy note, wildflower season is ramping up;  now is the time to be on the lookout for trillium - I had a report from Canterbury (thanks GP!) that painted trillium are blooming there, just a bit south of the Lakes Region, so they should be out here soon.

Painted trillium blooming in Canterbury.
Photo by Glen Powell

The spring wildflowers compete with the trees for our attention during the spring foliage season which is highlighted by red maple blossoms in the upper story and blueberry buds down by the waters edge.

Red maples shine up high

While blueberry bushes gleam down below.

Both are not only pretty but also welcome hints of what's to come.

Note that in addition to the black flies and other flying pests, crawling ticks are also on the prowl;  I've found both black legged (deer) ticks and wood ticks creeping up my legs even after following anti-tick measures, so do a good tick-check after your outdoor adventures.  

And thank those yellow-rumped warblers for doing their part in the battle of the bugs!