I woke up, and after wrestling the urge to stay in bed for a few more hours, decided to walk out the door and vibe in some nature. I jammed a little bit as I was getting the sleep out of me, walking to the Inter Urban Trail. Upon getting there, I slammed some water, took out my earbuds, and set about seeing what I could see and hearing what I could hear. In addition to multiple squirrels and a horde of 10 deer, here's the list:
A slightly different spread than last week. The really neat thing was having the luck to run across (I assume) the same group of robins from last week, and I got to spend a long time watching them. I could even get a good look at them last time, so it was quite fun. I found myself realizing that I had missed the presence of robins since the majority of them flew away for the season. They're pretty, and I enjoy their noises. I captured a little sound slice while watching them:
This audio was before more nuthatches came around. It was such a delight to watch the birds flitting from tree to tree, feasting on the winter leavings and preening themselves. There was a lot to hear, and though the lighting wasn't the best in the world (probably could have set the camera up manually based on the conditions), it was fun trying to get some photos.
The robins kind of all flew away at once abruptly, so I kept on my way for a little more. Next thing I knew, I saw another bluebird! There's a good chance it was one of the bluebirds I had seen previously, and I got the chance to snap a few pictures (once again in somewhat sub-optimal lighting). The bluebird was fluffing its feathers up and just kind of chilling for a bit. It eventually flew off to the side, and there were three others that it joined!! Four bluebirds! This past week has been an eye-opener for me. I couldn't grab any pictures of the gathering, but it was super neat to see :)
I kept walking for another decent stretch, and it seemed like most all of the birds had been in that giant group. Things got pretty quiet, save for a lone goose honking on the frozen marsh. It was a vibe. I walked even farther, maybe halfway between Okemos and Marsh roads, before turning around. It was on the way back that I heard the blue jay imitating a red-tailed hawk. I heard a hawk and smiled, as I figured I could add to my observation list, and when looking around for a visual, saw a blue jay flying towards the ground at the treeline. I heard the call again, and it was coming from the blue jay! It was certainly surprising. I had heard before that blue jays are pretty good at mocking calls before, but this was the first time I heard it in-person. The things you observe when you take some time in nature and just exist :) As I walked by the marsh again, more geese had joined the one lone goose, and I heard one more tufted titmouse across the street from me after leaving the Inter Urban Trail.
Article and all images copyright Cody Mohr 2023.
Holy guacamole. I went for a nature walk today at Nancy Moore Park, which I last traipsed through on September 20th, and I figured I would witness less wildlife than I saw last time. While I didn't see any blooming flowers, insects, or amphibians, I saw and heard sooooo many birds. I have noticed before that it's easier to birdwatch before the leaves come in on the trees and bushes, and that certainly aided in the amount of birds that I saw, but I was still blown away by the amount I observed and the variety of species. There were at least a few species that one would not expect to hang around Michigan in the middle of winter, yet there they were. A rough list:
This was in an hour and a half!! Walking into the trail and hearing the robins in the same place that I heard them back in September was a startling way to begin things, and I continued to be captivated the whole way through. The slower I walked, the more I could observe. I honestly spent a decent amount of time just standing still and watching the waves of juncos and others move from tree to bush to tree. There were cacophonies of nuthatches, dueling flickers, woodpeckers galore (one of them pictured twice below), a loud titmouse that dragged me away from my main trail like a siren, and two bluebirds.
I was so excited! I have seen only a handful of bluebirds in my life, and I saw two!! In the same day!! The first was a part of a wave of other birds, and I was so awestruck that I could hardly focus on my camera. I didn't get a good shot, but I was grinning ear-to-ear there for a solid 30 seconds at least. Visited by a bluebird of happiness on my first nature walk of the new year; if that didn't tell me anything, what would? I continued down the path with my mood boosted, thinking about how wonderful it was to have seen a bluebird. I wasn't upset about not getting a picture -- I was just happy to have witnessed! I walked the trail 'til it intersected the train tracks, and decided to balance on a rail back towards my car. There I was, just vibing, enjoying the birds in my field of vision, and I look over to a branch on my right that overlooked the marsh. I focus on the bird that landed on it. Wait a minute. That's no junco! Another blue bird!!!! I stood there a second, dumbfounded again, and he stayed put. I got my camera out and respectfully snapped some pictures. I was so happy :)
A double visit from the bluebird of happiness?? What could this even mean? Whatever it means, I was certainly over the moon with elation. Never did I think I would snap a picture of a bluebird so close to home. And in January!!! A mindblower of mindblowers. They're such gorgeous birds. That blue is unmistakable. No lie, I had "Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah" playing in my head after these encounters. Mr. Bluebird may not have been at my shoulder directly, but he was pretty darn close. Life is good :)))
There were some mycelial fruiting bodies out and about as well, which somewhat surprised me. The one standalone mushroom I found looked like a UFO, which I thought was cool. There were some on wood within the marsh too, and the marsh provided some very pleasing winter textures and palettes. The milkweed on a backdrop of ice was particularly nice to my eyes.
I found a break in the treeline along the tracks after a time, took the path through the soccer field, took note of some neat lichen on a tree, and got back to my car. What a successful little nature walk! I think this bodes well for the year ahead. I leave you with a derpy picture of a nuthatch I took along the train tracks.
Article and all images copyright Cody Mohr 2023.
Beginning location: Mount Desert Narrows Camping Resort, Bar Harbor, ME
After having hammocked under more stars than I can ever remember having slept under, it was time for the three of us, plus our new friend's two German Shepherds, to head to the mountains. We made a stop for some coffee, and then we were there.
We decided to hike both Penobscot and Sargent Mountains, starting at a junction with Jordan Pond. From the get-go, it was amazing. The forest was littered with huge tufts of lichen, and the two dogs were off-leash for the majority of the hike. They were wonderful. I had forgotten how much I enjoy German Shepherds, and these two dudes were very well-behaved. They made excellent companions within our broad five-being posse through this most excellent of hikes.
The landscape, as said covered in amazing spreads of moss and lichen, gradually became more and more surreal. The colors became more vivid and diverse, and the rocks took on all sorts of interesting patterns. I felt very plugged in to the moment, and the moment had us five travellers launch to the moon and beyond in quick time. At least, that's what it felt like. Paint blazes were at some point replaced with cairns, which are stacks of smaller rocks, and they seemed to be everywhere. The trees kept thinning out as we approached the summit of Penobscot, and gave way to multicolor speckled rock with small pools of water and patches of plants scattered intermittently. It felt like stepping into a sci-fi cartoon, truly. A breath-taking one at that.
We stayed and looked upon the stunning view of the first summit for some time, and I had tears from the biting wind just as much as the sheer beauty of it all. It felt so good to be alive!! And to think there was *another* peak to summit yet?? We took note of Sargent Mountain within our view, and followed our esoteric rock structure guides through the dip back into the forested valley. My buddy called the section "like walking through Jurassic Park," and he certainly had a point. It was hard to grasp just how much variety of scenery and landscape and color and texture we passed through; dinosaurs and Martians would be equally unsurprising through those trails.
I wasn't sure initially what Acadia would have to offer that New Hampshire or Vermont didn't already show me, as I was blown away and delighted by the beauty and variety of nature in those two states. That said, Acadia delivered in heaping spades. I just wasn't prepared for how pretty it all was! Summiting Sargent Mountain was perhaps even better than Penobscot, and the view was just too much. I could make out a wind farm wayyyyyyyy in the distance, and had the most exhilirating tie trying to land a halfway decent picture of it while battling the winds that picked up right at that instance. The whole 360 degree experience was such a joy. Even the descent was a great time, as I was too caught up in enjoying the perpetual moment, including all of the rich conversation and comradery with my four other companions, to notice how exhausted I was becoming.
As it was, we eventually did make it to our cars, and decided upon the experience of a good ol' lobster dinner as a reward for our hard work. Not that the hike itself wasn't the ultimate reward!
We ate at Stewman's Downtown in Bar Harbor, once again ever-so-magnanimously on our new friend's dime, and the whole thing was divine. I even ate all of my mussels, which (along with oysters) I didn't even think I liked! Whether it was due to the fresh caught nature of the meal or my immense hunger, or both, it was a wonderful experience. Shortly after, we returned to the campsite and crashed, once again sleeping under the stars.
Ending location: Mount Desert Narrows Camping Resort, Bar Harbor, ME
Article and all images copyright Cody Mohr 2022.
Beginning location: Civilization, South Portland, ME
After a couple days' reprieve in the South Portland area, during which time I read the entirety of the novel The Postman, my buddy and I headed to the Down East portion of Maine to see Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park. It was a few hours of driving, but loaded up with breakfast (lots of yogurt) and having good weather ahead of us, we were ready to go.
Our first stop, besides gas stations, was to Beehive Trail. It's apparently one of the most popular hikes, and a "must-see" of Acadia. Although I didn't see a single bee nor hive, I had a nice time. The metal rungs in the rocks were novel for me, but certainly welcome in the slightly riskier areas. I've heard it's nothing compared to Precipice Trail (also in Acadia), but I was fine going easy-mode since my shoes don't have the best grip.
The view from the top really impressed me though. The combination of forests, ponds, mountains, and ocean was something I haven't experienced in that way before. It was amazing. We stayed up there for awhile, taking it all in. We spent some time trying to fiure out what the house on an outlying island was for. Then, eventually, we walked back down a different way and went to the sandy beach we could see from the top.
It had been a few years since I had touched the ocean! There were plenty of people on the beach with us, most of them taking pictures like myself. The waves were fun to watch, and the rock formations bordering the beach on both sides were impressive. There was an alluring grayness to the whole scene -- I've certainly come to appreciate gray more this season, particularly in the color blends of New England. Even the tones of the seagulls were appealing.
Lingering just a bit longer on the beach, we then drove to Bar Harbor and hit the town. We walked from shop to shop, perusing the wares and the crafts. Most places weren't too flagrant in their pandering to tourists, and many stores were rather quaint. Lots of good smells hit our noses as we strolled, and though they were very tempting, we didn't give in. We watched the colors of the sunset fade at the docks, and then walked to my buddy's haunt from last year -- The Barnacle.
The Barnacle is an old boat that was converted into a bar. As such, it has a unique long and narrow interior, with authentic seafaring maps to match. My buddy and I ordered some Maine brews and set about people-watching from the front window. We ended up befriending a nice woman who bought our drinks as well as oysters (fresh-caught) and pretzels for us. She even let us stay at her campsite! Given that our running plan was to sleep in the car off-island, we graciously accepted her generous offer. After having basked in good conversation fora time more, we made our way to her campsite for the night.
Ending location: Mount Desert Narrows Camping Resort,Bar Harbor, ME
Article and all images copyright Cody Mohr 2022.
Beginning location: Dispersed camping in the White Mountain National Forest, NH
Went to a cafe for coffee in the morning, pondered forest dwelling, arranged my return route and time, drank coffee and water, and headed into North Conway for the craft show. We spent quite a bit of time at the local bookshop, I bought a couple of books, and we ended up meeting many cool people at the craft show. I purchased a oshibana arrangement from one such man, whom I discussed Japan with. Seeing so many people have respectable talents in such a variety was quite fun!
Afterward, we went on two smaller hikes. The first was up the Black Cap Mountain Trail. The drive to get there was on a narrow, steep, and winding mountain road. The road really only had 1.5 cars worth of space, and not all shoulder space was of equal length. It was thrilling! We packed relatively lightly when parked, for the hike wasn't the longest. Once on the trail, we occupied our time with talk and thought.
The hike was a relatively consistent moderate grade with somewhat slick rock/mud surfaces throughout. The mud wasn't much sticky. The colors were still popping pretty well from moisture, and as with the previous mountains, there were interesting lichen and mosses flourishing. I heard many chickadees.
The summit had a modest view of the surrounding area, considering the present tree growth at or above eye level. There is a wonderful pulloff from the alternate trail that has a superior view to the top, and I found it a great place for sitting and contemplating. We weren't quite as fervent and giddyup compared to the day before, but the hike was an enjoyable and pretty workout in an environment that we don't have back home, and I'd like to think we made the most of it.
Following Black Cap Mountain and the hair-raising descent down the mountain road, we returned to Diana's Bath. I had not yet seen the major waterfall portions, having walked right back to the car following the bath the day before so as to put on more warm clothes. Ryan ended up bathing again, and had a great time doing so. The waterfalls were so nice. The place was heavily attended, but the beauty of the natural structure held through.
We decided to hit up the Books A Million on the way out of town, and nabbed a bargain book. Heading further east, we crossed into Maine and spent a few hours in a small bar in Cornish. There we sang karaoke, and I had a few drinks. I sang Ronny Milsap and Beach Boys, and good times were had by all. We made it as far as 25 minutes outside of South Portland.
Ending location: 25 minutes out from South Portland, ME
Article and all images copyright Cody Mohr 2022.
Starting location: half an hour north of Concord, NH off of I-93
Starting out an hour before sunrise, I drove us the remaining distance to Conway. My phone didn't have any data signal for the duration of the drive, and my buddy and his 5G T-Mobile phone were asleep in the passenger seat, so I was relying on my location on the map alone. It wasn't that difficult of course, and I had such a wonderful time navigating the state roads once we got off I-93. All of the fog floating in the mountains and fields and coming off the lakes, and the dynamic and winding roads, and the trees ever-so-tall framing my field of vision just right, and all of this while the state was still just beginning to wake up and the sun was just beginning to stream through the horizon -- it was an engaging, beautiful, and exciting drive. Even waiting our turn in one-lane construction was a treat! It's all perspective.
We eventually rolled into Conway, big ol' mountains in the background, and stopped at Banner's Restaurant for some pre-hike food. We loaded up on coffee and some protein and wellll maybe a few more cups of coffee and plenty of water, and then headed to our first hike in the White Mountain National Forest. We chose the Moat Mountain South Peak Trail, as it seemed like the right blend of difficulty and length for what we were looking for.
Spending some time getting packed and prepped in the parking lot at the trailhead, and having said hello to all of the dawgies that people brought with them, my buddy and I played our guitars a bit to get the practice in. A little bit of time every day! With that done, we were off.
The trail was nice. The bottom portion was moderately forested, with different creeks flowing through. As we continued to climb, more and more of our path became rocky, sometimes with water flowing on/through the rocks. It certainly made for an interesting and exerting hike. We took most of the trail on the way up with a couple and their dogs that we ran across, and the conversation was riveting. He talked about his job in drug discovery, and she talked about managing her land, among plenty of other topics. Discussions of other hikes in the Whites and elsewhere, the customary lamentation of pesticide use and subsidized corn, and so on. The dogs were consistently able to find the trail easier than we were, and were absolute troopers the whole way through. I kept getting glimpses of the impending view towards the top, but we mostly plugged away with the occasional breather right up until the summit.
Top-tier view. 360 degree visibility on a clear day, and the autumn colors were still near their peak. Yellows and oranges and deep greens as far as the surrounding mountains allowed one to see, and they allowed an ample amount of visibility. It was so striking, so beautiful, and so worth the quad workout! Spending some time on different boulders taking pictures of all the angles, I did my best to take in the sheer amount of land laid out before me. Who knows how many trees in total one could see from the south peak.
After some time of all that, and after a quick call to my sister, I tucked myself a little bit away from the other folks enjoying their hike's reward, sat down on a rock, and did two Wim Hof breath cycles. It was novel during the second cycle-- towards the end, I was starting to get a sense of palpable excitement just at the prospect of being able to open my eyes and take in the view again. It was a funny, not unwelcome distraction, but I purposefully slowed my breathing even more to further draw out the time, so as to not give into an instant gratification situation / miss the meditative aspect of the moment. Taking that final breath, holding, exhaling, returning to normal breathing, and finally opening my eyes when it came time to, was rewading. Not too many thoughts plagued my mind intrusively, with little anxiety or anything of the sort to speak of. Just enjoyment of the beautiful situation I was in!!
I took some more pictures, including the lichen/sphagnum moss/succulent-like plants tucked in the in-betweens of the rocks, and hung out on the peak for quite some time. My buddy and I ended up talking to a group of Russian-Americans (and one Italian-American) at length after I offered to take their group picture. It was pleasant conversation, ranging from hiking to traveling different countries (Nicaragua and Cuba being of particular noteworthiness to me) to recommendations of spots to stay in northern Italy to Boston rent prices to American geography. They were cool, and shared some apple pie with us :)
Having another quest to complete before sundown, my buddy and I eventually had to depart that group and climb back down the mountain. Though my knees were screaming at me, my eyes were still enjoying everything they were seeing. The descent was, besides the beauty, much less noteworthy than the ascent, and I melted into the passenger seat once we got back to the car. After stopping at a gas station for a water refill, we headed back out on the short trip to our other main destination: Diana's Bath. Named after the Roman goddess, we decided to wash away our sweat and stink in the brisk waters downstream of the waterfall. It was comical initially seeing the sheer amount of people at the trail (wheelchair accessible, short, and on a Saturday), and I wasn't entirely sure if I could handle the cold, but once we got to the spot, we found a nice little nook just enough off of the main trail. The water was actually not as cold as I had expected, and once my buddy forged the way by getting in and sitting down, I had little reason not to embrace the experience and send it. Now, not to worry -- we didn't use soap or anything, and we had our bathing suits on. We didn't wash any extra clothing items in the river either, so hopefully we minimized any microplastic pollution too. But as for the experience itself -- talk about bracing!!! It was just cold enough that it gave one a rush, without inducing numbness or hypothermia. We couldn't help screaming in exhiliration when sitting/splashing/scrubbing. Such a thrill!! It was certainly a great way to wake up a bit from the post-hike fatigue. A few people from the distance were giving us weird looks, but as the state motto here proudly proclaims, Live Free Or Die!!!
We dried off, clothed up, and walked back to the car. With nothing else on the docket, we wandered around the town of North Conway for an hour or two at sunset. It was pretty bustling, and we had fun mostly people-watching and mingling. There was a huge line for Zeb's General Store, and no one could tell us definitively why it necessitated such a line, but we joined the queue to feel like we were a part of something 😄
It was a neat store filled with all sorts of things, without feeling too gimmicky. I got some postcards and a pack of "edible nature playing cards," and we left the town for the night. After eating some cold-soaked chickpea noodles with carrots and seasoned to almost feel like a drier chicken noodle soup, we set up our hammocks in the White Mountain National Forest and conked out. I was so tired. What a day!!
Ending location: Dispersed camping in the White Mountain National Forest, NH
Article and all images copyright Cody Mohr 2022.
Starting location: Green Mountain National Forest, VT
Waking up under the rain in our tent, the rain fly having only done so much, pools of water having accumulated throughout, phone having died midway through the night, existence was feeling very raw. We waited until what ended up being a bit past 9 for the rain to mostly let up, and it was anyone's guess as to how the day would go. Thankfully, we're not usually in the business of having a bad time, and a red-spotted newt eft emerged from under the brush as I was taking my morning whiz to give us a good omen.
Having fenagled the sopping tent into its undersized bag, we drove bleary-eyed down the way to a gas station to change our clothes, fill our waters, brush our teeth, and otherwise prep ourselves for the day. We still had two hours to drive (not including bathroom stops) 'til our destination: Crotched Mountain in New Hampshire. Away we went.
My buddy dropped me off prior to the trailheads, as I'm LARPing as a stowaway on our first leg of the journey, and to be seen with my buddy's buddies would be breaking character. So, armed with a few layers, my camera, and a backpack lightly filled with sustenance, I walked the 20 minutes up the steeply-graded road at a leisurely pace. Having forgotten what walking up an incline felt like (my last experience with dynamic terrain being Arizona in February), I took a couple of conveniently-timed photo breaks to catch my breath and peel off layers. I did find an American chestnut tree, which was exciting after my recent introduction to the tree back in Lansing. I watched groups of dark-eyed juncos flitter to and fro, which ended up being a recurring theme through the hike. Eventually, I arrived at the dual trailhead of Crotched Mountain, where my buddy and buddy's buddy's vehicles were. I had given them enough time to get sufficiently ahead of me -- I did not encounter a single human being over the course of my walk, and I can't say I was upset by that. The air was misty, with thick fog rolling over the mountaintops, and solitude was the vibe.
Being offered two trails to choose from, I chose first to go up the mountain on Gregg Trail. Both trails are electric wheelchair accessible, so the grades are never over 8%, and my starting walk up the road was the most challenging aspect of my entire hike. No matter; I was thoroughly engrossed in my surroundings. The wetness of the day caused a most excellent saturation of the fall colors, not to mention the abundant moss and lichen. It truly was a visual delight to lope up the meandering slopes, and I took my time taking it all in. The trail wasn't very long though, and the summit was upon me relatively quickly. I got a bit of a chuckle out of comparing the signboard showcasing the locations visible in the distance with the reality I was presented; it seemed that I was in the Misty Mountains rather than any definable place in New Hampshire. It was a breathtaking sight either way.
After drinking up the main view for a sufficient time, I found a lateral, slightly-less-beaten path to continue hanging out near the summit rather than circling back down the loop of the Gregg Trail. My homeboy Gregg could wait, I wanted to prolong my stay in this cool environment. Pushing my way through what looked to be a section of heavily-coppiced trees, I was very glad my curiosity got the best of me. There, in a clearing amongst the brush, growing all over the deliciously-saturated grey New England rock, was the most gorgeous display of lichen I have yet experienced in my life. Northwest Michigan has lichen abound, but it never seemed to reach the stages of growth and abundance that this small mountaintop had accumulated over who knows how many years. I was giddy and awestruck, and relished in the opportunity to engage with their beauty by taking some pictures. My mind reeled and raced imagining being shrunk down to the size that the growths would appear as skyscrapers or mature-growth forests; what a thought. What magical beauty! The light greens and bright reds and off-whites and textures of coral and flakes and curls and coarse cups -- my oh my! I was so happy. They were all over!! The peak of my journey thus far.
There was more ground to cover though, so I backtracked to the main summit area and descended back to the trailhead. Taking the Dutton Brook Trail, this time I wound down to a loop around a wetland environment. The signage describing the scenes laid out before one's eyes was interesting and well put together, and helped me to figure out how to identify hemlock trees. I had already chewed on my usual hiking ambient flavor of pine needles (very favorable flavor up here), and couldn't resist chewing on some hemlock needles. My new favorite evergreen flavor!! Quite enjoyable.
The scenes continued being enjoyable throughout, and I spent some time sitting with my eyes closed at a wetland overlook, just listening. Mostly crickets, some cardinals, some chickadees, and I assume some dark-eyed junco noises as well. Everything was so uniformly pretty, and the ground so evenly distributed with a psychedelic array of descended autumn foliage, that it all blends together a bit. I sure had a good time though.
My buddy picked me up after I was done with the Dutton Brook Trail, as he had finished prior and was ready to go. We drove up to Concord, waited way too long for a Domino's pizza (to the point that the car battery died and we found someone to jump us in the parking lot all within that timeframe), and drove another half an hour north towards Conway before tucking into a rest area for the night. I set up my hammock under the trees, and got some nice cool night air to rejuvenate me for our upcoming hikes.
Ending location: half an hour north of Concord, NH off of I-93
Article and all images copyright Cody Mohr 2022.
Having got a taste for the western portion of the inter urban trail the week prior, I consulted the forecast and decided to hike the eastern half on the penultimate day of summer. To do so, I began my journey at Nancy Moore Park. Though there are many trails, I chose a low-key one that wasn't paved. It almost immediately paid off -- I found a super cool northern leopard frog just off the path. I can't say I remember seeing one of those before!! There were calico asters and other pretty flowers weaving through the trail edges, and many robins whistling away. I imagined them as a family scrambling to get packed for their journey south, though perhaps they're among the robins that stay year-round and tough out our winters.
The path continued as a nice tunnel for awhile, and I was greeted by a fine catalpa tree, some squirrels with their nuts in mouth, and a nice log of mushrooms towards the exit. The path spilled out into a residential street, which I took down to Marsh Road for the eastern opening of the inter urban trail. I listened to some King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard en route; I've been gearing myself up for the Red Rocks concert I'm attending in early November.
Shortly after entering the trail, I was inundated with imagery. Among the trees of heaven, the honeysuckle, the Queen Anne's lace, the buckthorn, the European reed grasses, and the teasels, I found joy and beauty in the native beauty surrounding them. The raspberry canes, the virginia creepers and their brilliant reds, the sumacs, the sunflowers, the goldenrods, the bonesets, the red cedars, the pines, and all the rest. I was overjoyed and overwhelmed with the level of diversity confronting my eyes, and happily snapped picture upon picture with my iNaturalist app to place a name to the "faces" of the flora and fauna. Everywhere I turned, it seemed, there was a fresh scene playing out before me.
I looked above me; cedar waxwings by the dozen were gobbling up the pale blue berries of the red cedar. I watched them for some time. I looked to the foreground; grasshoppers and other insects on the boneset and black-eyed susans and clovers, jumping and flying all around. Riverbank grape and virginia creepers mingled in the midground, suspended between their summer and autumn colors. I kept walking; sneezeweed and sunflowers. Purple loosestrife -- invasive, but pretty. A monarch on panicled aster!! What a great shot!
And then!! A first for me! Having had the sounds of grey catbirds serenade me for more or less the whole walk, I heard one really close to me. I looked to my right at a grey dogwood thicket, and...!!! A grey catbird out in the open, eating berries from the branch! I've seen them before, but have never been able to get a picture before this walk. I've been trying for a picture for two years, and just stood there smiling for awhile with a lingering sense of satisfaction after the bird flew away. Another coveted picture checked off the list B^)
Even besides the catbird sighting, the walk was just grand. Gorgeous, sunny, warm weather paired well with the beautiful and captivating scenery. The purple asters, the bonesets, and the goldenrods all lined up with each other were dazzling my eyeballs, releasing effortless dopamine from the sheer beauty of it all. There was a patch of milkweed close by, and it was busy. Lots of insects hanging out around there, including ants tending to their herds of aphids. A little further along and to my left, walking among the marsh, there were two sandhill cranes finding some food. I was able to sneak some photos through the brush, and kept along my way once they sauntered off.
More photos and identifications ensued, including wild cucumber (wild indeed, I had not seen such a thing before). I ended my inter urban trail experience at the Okemos Road exit, and reflected upon my experience on the walk back to Nancy Moore Park. The weather was to turn colder within a few days, and looking back on the walk now with the photos I took, I'm already nostalgic for that golden summer glow with its autumnal tinges. I will continue enjoying all of the beauty that fall has to offer, and hold its energy of change and progression to dormancy within me, but that summer warmth and bursting forth of life will continue tugging at my heart as long as the weather chills me.
Bonus pictures of the woodchuck that lives near my place in East Lansing :)
Article and all images copyright Cody Mohr 2022.
Cardinals, catbirds, crows, chickadees, and cedar waxwings; woodpeckers (pileated and otherwise), northern flickers, geese, ducks, blue herons, and sparrows galore. There were chipmunks, bunnies, deer, snakes, and squirrels. Late-summer blooms were dappled in dew, and the signature palette of a Michigan September was cast over all my eyes could gaze upon. The greens and flowery colors of summer were mingling with the dormant browns and crisp yellow-oranges of autumn. At the beginning of the walk, my breath was visible, and the chirping of crickets and lingering, dewy webs were the only evidence of arthropods.
I was dropped off at the Burcham Drive edge of the inter urban trail by a friend on their way to work, approximately 8:15AM EST. It was a crispy 54 degrees, which felt pretty novel for mid-September. I've come to love the sensory experience of the outdoors in September around here. To me, it feels as a victory lap for the plants that worked so hard to grow through the year. The sheer amount of life bursting forth in July and August, that great swell of size and presence of plant matter, making mid-Michigan natural corridors feel close to a jungle, have their acceleration rates peak and decline. September contains the sustain of swollen greenery, the coda of summer's song, cross-fading into the march to dormancy and death that autumn sounds. The resulting blend of hues and tones, that deep and varied landscape of green taking on stalks and stems of browns and greys, seed pod textures, and the early measures of treasured fall foliage color bursts, captivates me so. The cool nights and mornings are a welcome break from the oppressive heat and humidity of the Michigan Late Summer, and this year I'm doing my best to make the most of the warmth we have left and explore this unique time of year for our nature.
Layers on, breath showing in the air, water in the drawstring, camera on my neck, I started walking down the inter urban trail. There was a soft fog in the air, emerging around the ponds and making no haste in its early-morning stroll along the landscape. Shimmery drops of dew caught my eye wherever I looked. It had been a battle of wills trying to convince myself to get up and actually go, but as soon as I stepped out of the truck and onto the path, I knew it had been worth it. To my left were deep pockets of goldenrod amongst other plants, such as purple asters and milkweed, and to my right were trees of all sorts. The area is dominated by remnants of beech-maple forest, with several other flavors of tree popping through. There was a delightful crabapple tree to greet me towards the enterance, as well as a whole tangle of riverbank grape woven through dozens of trees' branches. Filling in the space not taken up by the wildflower pockets on the left were plenty of thickets, housing birds galore for my viewing pleasure. Heard but not seen were many grey catbirds, but I was surprised and thrilled to catch a brief glimpse of a pileated woodpecker on a powerline pole before it flew off to a distant treeline. Watching its erratic flight pattern felt like a treat and a good omen for the hike ahead.
Finding enjoyment in each plant and animal I could identify, having worked at increasing my range of knowledge over this past summer, I reveled in this relatively unspoiled opportunity to commune with nature just past dawn. I stopped to take photos rather liberally, but not so much as to spoil the connection I was having. I captured three deer crossing the road in the distance ahead of me, a bicyclist yet further ahead. I had planned to walk straight from Burcham Drive to Marsh Road and then see where I felt like going from there, but there was a previously-unknown-to-me walking trail that forked off to the right before even reaching Okemos Road. Captivated by the untold theoretical possibilities, I set off on a diversion from my main quest. Walking through a primarily grass field bordered on both sides by sizeable climax forest trees, I took the time to appreciate the little things. The dew truly made every sight that much more breathtaking, from the various spiderwebs to the eye-popping wildflowers. I found the reed grasses positioned at the exit of the field to hold the dew in a particularly captivating way. There was a small pond, and a winding path around it that I decided to take. Passing cattails, I quickly entered a nice wooded area with dappled shade. There were the customary interesting mushrooms that one would see at this point in the year, and I was again taunted by the catbirds that hide so well in the brush.
The wooded area would peter out here and there to reveal the pond from different angles, giving me a variety of vantage points from which to take in the scene. A blue heron had enough of my nosing around and flew across the pond to a different place to settle in, and I certainly didn't mind the chance to admire its huge wing span. As I rounded the path back to my starting point, I looked back through a clearing and was able to see a wonderful early display of fall leaf color variety at the opposite side on the pond, and as I was taking that in, I was blessed to find a (non-pileated) woodpecker on a dead branch just to the right of the colors. I spent some time taking pictures of it, both to capture the moment and to get a better look at the far-away bird. Once it flew away, I headed back the way that I came and started once again down the inter urban trail. I came across a couple that was trying to take pictures of some gorgeous spider webs, weighted with dew droplets in a way that brought to mind strings of pearls. Though their phone camera wasn't up to the task, I managed to capture a few shots with my camera's close-up mode. Further photo explorations with dew followed, and I stopped again after a time to log some cedar waxwings and a beautiful northern flicker.
Rather than continue clear to Marsh Road, I decided to turn right on Okemos Road and walk to the Meridian Charter Township Natural Area across from the entrance to Nancy Moore Park. It's a favorite of mine in the area, and doesn't seem to be too well-known. An intriguing hornet's nest crafted under a solar panel along the way held my attention for some time, and I stopped to snap a photo of a welder working on the nearby train tracks. I do believe it's helpful for me when I admire the scenery I'm presented with at face value. If I get too hung up on wanting everything I see to be undisturbed nature, it usually just end up leaving me consternated and lamenting the immense change humanity has brought upon our planet in these past several hundred years. If I take things as they are though, it's much easier to enjoy the flavors on tap.
All of this to say, I still didn't much enjoy the mosquitoes I was confronted by in the Natural Area. They paled in comparison to the mosquitocalpyse of last year, but I ended up walking through the space faster than I otherwise would have. I still stopped and connected to scenes that especially took me, including a gorgeous aster and some playful sneezeweeds. A few snaps of the camera, a few slaps of the neck; it was worth it. The eastern bumblebees were out by that point, and their buzz was a welcome addition to the increasing burble of the natural world as it continued waking up. The slither of a snake through the crunchy leaves was another aural delight. Eventually though, I exited the natural area at its terminal point, bade farewell by a showy magnolia tree, and spilled out into the parking lot of an apartment complex. I trekked back to my house down Grand River Avenue, scanning the trees as I walked to try and land positive ID's as much as I could. Greeted by inquisitive fox squirrels and red squirrels, the native fauna of the city and suburban environments on that last leg of my journey, I was very happy with my sightings. It wasn't even 11AM, and I had enough experiences of sight and sound to reflect upon for days. I crave more nature walks, I yearn to see and hear with my own eyes and ears more of the natural world that surrounds me; the world that we are all, at the last, a fundamental part of. Walks such as these keep me plugged in to a more base form of existence, and help me not to stray too far into abstract and deluded living. It makes me sad for my fellow humans who have not taken the time or have had the inclination to foster a deeper and more resounding connection with nature, who wish to distance themselves from it and take shelter in our man-made artifice. We need connection with fellow lifeforms of all sorts now more than ever, and I hope by documenting my experience that I may get across a fraction of the joy that I felt amongst the trees and birds and flowers and water and spiderwebs. It's a joy to see them, a joy to know them, and a joy to share the same air as them. It is a joy to Be.
Article and all images copyright Cody Mohr 2022.