December 10, 2023: It Arrived

If winter was close last week, this week it arrived.

Looking north from the White Mountain Ledge.

Our first good snowfall came last Sunday night and it turned the lake into a winter wonderland ready for the Christmas season.

A Wicwas Christmas Card.

The snow was dense and wet and got plastered to everything it touched.  

Cold temperatures after the storm let it stay that way for days.  

Prior to the snow, everyone I spoke with had the same report about the birds - there were none at their birdfeeders.  Usually when we put up the bird feeders around the first of December it's only a matter of minutes before they find it, with the chickadees always the first.  But this year we had none - at least that we saw - for days.  When they did appear it was a single chickadee or a random titmouse.

Black-capped Chickadees are the first to find the feeders.

But when the snow covered the ground, suddenly they flocked to the feeder.  So far we've had chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, goldfinches, and juncos - no woodpeckers yet.  

After the initial rush the level of activity subsided as some of the snow melted and re-exposed patches of bare ground.  It appears the birds really do prefer to forage for natural food sources when it's available.  

A few weeks ago when I was walking at Page Pond I heard a bird song I only remember hearing previously at the top of a mountain, the "old Sam Peabody" call of the white-throated sparrow.  I couldn't convince myself that really was what I was hearing until later in the walk when I saw a little brown bird hopping around in the leaves.  I stopped and waited for it to expose itself which it kindly did on a rock and then a branch, and getting a good look, I decided it was in fact a white-throated sparrow.  

White-throated sparrow.

I've never had a good look at these birds in the mountains so didn't realize they have a bright yellow spot between the eye and the bill (an area called the "lore" in bird anatomy).  

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology range maps shows we are right on the line between their breeding and year-round ranges, so maybe I have seen them near the lake many times but never recognized them by sight.  I also learned that this species has two distinct morphs, one with a white line behind the eye (like the one I saw) and other morph with a tan line.  The two morphs have an equal share of the population because birds of one morph almost always select a mate with a bird of the opposite morph. It reinforces the old adage that opposites attract!

Snow on the ground gave away the fact that turkeys have been invading our yard.

The turkeys took a walk down the steps.

I knew they were around because I've seen their scratchings in the leaves where they've been uncovering acorns and other seeds.  The tracks show just how big these birds are.

A couple of cold nights with lows down in the teens put ice over much of the lake.  Perhaps you'll recognize some of these partially frozen shorelines.

Warm weather and rain today may erode the ice and send winter back north for a time, but it will return soon enough.  

Photo by Dave Thorpe

September 30, 2018: Rubin Whitten Saved the Town of Ashland

The best season for hiking has arrived - cool temperatures, clear blue skies, and no bugs!  It's the perfect stage to explore all the bounty autumn has to offer, whether it's in your back yard, on a lake, or in the mountains.

Squam Lake and the Ossipee Mountains from Whitten Woods' north view point

Linda and I took a walk at Whitten Woods, a new conservation area opened by the New England Forestry Foundation and the Squam Lakes Association.  Located in Ashland at the site of a historic farm owned by Rubin Whitten who saved the residents of Ashland by sharing his wheat crop from this hill, the only crop that survived the "Year Without a Summer".

In 1816 Mount Tambora in Indonesia erupted, affecting weather across the world.  In New Hampshire there was frost, snow, and ice throughout the summer, with killing frosts every month.  Most of the crops failed, leaving the settlers without a winter food source.  But up on this high, south facing hill, Whitten had planted wheat - an unusual crop in these parts, but more tolerant of cold weather.  His was one of the only crops which survived; the elevation may have helped, as cold airs sinks down into the valleys.  He offered his crop to the townspeople, becoming a local legend and hero.  [Ref:  Eric Werme, Old Farmer's Almanac, WMUR]

It's a pleasant hike on good trails with two nice view points.

Whiteface (left) and Chocorua (right) from Whitten Woods' south view point

Starting up from the trail head on Highland Street just outside of downtown Ashland we enjoyed some early color in the leaves and plenty of fall flowers.

Calico Aster (Aster lateriflorus)

There is a lot of blue in flowers right now, including this dark-blue bud I didn't recognize and can't identify - any ideas?   (Update:  Paula Wanzer identified this for me - it is a Closed Gentian, an interesting flower. I'll try to provide more information on it next week.)

Closed Gentian (Gentiana andrewsii)

As we walked along the old roads of Whitten's farm, signs of human activity were evident, including fruit trees such as this crab apple.

Humans may not be harvesting produce here anymore, but the animals continue to take advantage of what the settlers left behind.  Seeing motion in the branches led us to a red squirrel fattening up for winter on the small fruit.

Most of the property has long since been taken over by forest, which has clearly been logged in the recent past based on the size of the trees.  But as we walked we came across some large areas that have been kept open over the years, though we couldn't determine why.

A long, wide slope running up the south hill has been continually mowed, with only ferns growing in it

Why was this stretch of gentle terrain kept open all these years?  It looked like a ski slope.

Whitten Woods is a great, nearby place to visit, and a good skiing and snowshoeing option in the winter.


Earlier in the week on a hike at higher terrain, a small visitor came to say hello to me.

White-throated Sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis)

This is the famous singer of "Old-Sam-Peabody-Peabody-Peabody" that frequents the boreal forests in the highest elevations of the White Mountains.

This pretty bird hopped out of the scrub, right up to my feet as soon as I sat myself down on the summit of 4327' high Mt. Flume at the southern end of the Franconia Range.  It was clearly looking for a handout (which it didn't get).

Mt. Flume, where this sparrow lives - probably knowing that's where hikers drop bits of food as they enjoy the view

It's a pretty harsh environment to survive;  they must put up with it in order to live in such a beautiful place.

A birds-eye view of Mt. Lincoln, Mt. Lafayette, and Mt. Garfield from the summit of Flume

Back down at lake level, the water has been cooling off, but it's still plenty warm to form morning mist on the lakes.

On Saturday the fisherman were out for perhaps the last bass tournament of the year.  As they roared down the lake in the morning a loon hid in the mist, watching them go by.

Our mating pair is still on the lake, though their brilliant contrasting black and white plumage is starting to fade into the drab gray clothing they will wear through the winter.

It may be the best season for hiking, but that doesn't mean there aren't plenty of days left on the water to watch for loons, sunsets, and coming shortly, brilliant fall leaves.  Whether at elevation or sea level, there's autumn beauty everywhere you look in New Hampshire.