A Fading Crown

Soaking up the beginnings of autumn on a walk recently, I could not help but think of Galadriel's song in Tolkien's bittersweet chapter, "Farewell to Lorien".  Indeed, I could not help singing it, as the leaves spun slowly to the ground around me, and the crows called coarsely to one another.  Long  ago I set her words to music, and the song has been a comfort and a companion every fall, as the glorious crown of autumn fades into winter.

If you are unfamiliar with the mythology of Middle Earth, you can still appreciate the archetypal images and mournful meter of her song.  The fellowship are departing, their fate unknown.  Whether they succeed or not, Galadriel's power will fail.  It is already failing.  Her woodland realm - created as a fair haven for her people - is fading into an autumn and a winter that will never see spring.

As we must all say goodbye to people and places we have long cherished and worked for, we might be encouraged by Galadriel's song, which is one of reflection and sorrow, but not of despair.

....................................................................................

From The Fellowship of the Rings, by J. R. R. Tolkien:


"I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.

Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.

Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,

In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.

There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,

While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.

O Lorien!  The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;

The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.

O Lorien!  Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore

And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.

But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,

What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?"

Morning Walk

I was tempted not to go out yesterday, but I knew Osage oranges were ripening on the trees, so out I went.  I'm so glad I did!

Walking to the trailhead I stopped to examine some beautiful leaves.  What did I find clinging to them?  Dozens of box elder bugs!  Normally masses of insects gross me out, but this was actually kind of cool.  They were crowded together, on the undersides of the leaves, probably sheltering from the dew, like campers under a rain fly.

Descending to the creek bottom, I felt my worries and troubles lift off me with each step.  I breathed in the cool morning air, and enjoyed the host of little birds, mostly sparrows, hopping through the meadow grasses and brush.  They were active, but shy, and I took the challenge of trying to photograph them.

Waiting for the full sunrise, one bunch of weeds had an almost luminescent glow to them, and seemed to stand like a candelabra left over from some meadow revelry the night before.

There was a low cobweb factor for pedestrians, with not many strands across the trails, but the spiders had been busy in the dead grasses.  The blossoms there had been replaced in plant after plant with webbing, made more visible than usual by the dew clinging to the filaments.

The dew was also clinging to my bare toes inside my sandals.   Next time I'll throw fashion to the wind and wear socks!

Soon the sun rose over the horizon and lit the east side of the tree tops with golden light.  Standing in the middle of the path, I soaked in the glorious moment, my soul rejoicing.

Approaching the creek, I heard thick movement in the woods on the left.  Glancing into the trees I saw bulky shapes - low to the ground.  What were they?  Fat raccoons?  Stepping quickly toward them, I glimpsed more movement and dark shapes.  The brush swayed.  Suddenly there was a flapping of wings - big wings.  Something lifted off under the low branches, only to disappear again into the brush.  Finally I saw a tall, thin neck, hustling away from me.  They were turkeys!

Now - I've seen turkeys.  I've seen them along roadways, and in our own yard - even on our deck.  But these were the first turkeys I've ever seen in the wild while on a nature  hike.  It was a cool moment!

I scanned the trees to see if I could spot any of them roosting, but no luck.  I then made my way to the creek.  In a playful mood one day, I nicknamed it the Nimrodel, after Tolkien's river.  I love to visit it.  On this day it was low in its rocky bed after summer's drought, and I was able to walk where water flowed last year.

Fall leaves floated on the water's surface, and paw prints adorned the muddy banks.  Here were my raccoon signs.  And they had left behind corn husks - testimony of their last night's dinner.

Tracing the creek bank, I lost all sense of time in the quiet murmur of the water and the shimmering of the red and yellow leaves.

Everywhere I saw signs of fall.  The forest is beginning to shut down.  Leaves are browning and withering.  The greenery on the forest floor is subsiding.  Thistles are fluffing out.  Walnuts blacken and rot.  It was beauty with a hint of melancholy.

Wending my way back, I found what I was looking for.  An Osage orange was lying on the ground.

Looking up, I saw the tree, loaded with bumpy green fruit.  It made me laugh out loud to see how bountiful just one tree could be.  I felt happy knowing that months from now, many of these fruits would be waiting on the forest floor, ready to feed foraging squirrels who will be biding their time until spring.

Finishing my walk, I ascended a wide trail to the more established portion of the park.  A group of joggers were stretching out near the parking lot, getting ready for their run, but my trip was done.  Carrying gold, ruby and emerald gems on my Canon's memory card, I reluctantly made my way back to my car and left the park until another day.

House Sparrow

This friendly little fellow is a house sparrow, from the species Passer domesticus, denoting a bird of speed "belonging to the house".

House sparrows like to live near human habitations rather than in forests or meadows.  They are not native to the United States and are seen as a pest, but world-wide they have often been used as pets and are a social bird, often roosting and nesting in groups, and in winter, flocking together with other birds.

Going Tharn

Watership Down is a book written by Richard Adams.  In that book, a group of rabbits leave their home warren and make their way in the world, encountering many challenges to their survival.  Adams included several words of his own invention to describe the rabbit culture in his story.  The word "tharn" is one of them.  It means frozen with fear, where a rabbit is so scared that he freezes on the spot and presses himself to the earth in spite of oncoming danger.  And that is exactly the word that popped into my head when I saw this rabbit.

He had gone tharn.  This rabbit was not eating, and he was not sleeping.  He could clearly see us, but made no move to run away.  In fact, he didn't move a muscle.  Everything about him - his behavior and posture - said "Stay away!"  Something was not right.

I wondered if he was truly just scared out of his wits, or if he was too sick or injured to move.  Rabbits do not usually sit still in plain sight and in close proximity to humans the way this fellow was.  Normally they hop away quickly to shelter, such as a nearby bush.

His ears were lying back in an unnatural way and it was pathetic. in the true sense of the word, to see him display this odd behavior.  We quickly left the poor creature alone, so as not to traumatize him any further.  When we came back through about an hour later, he was gone.    

Monarch Butterfly

I found this beautiful fellow while on a walk recently.  I thought it was a Monarch, but had to look him up to be sure.  He was indeed a Monarch, but I learned that he has a look-alike, which is the Viceroy butterfly.

Monarch butterfly on swamp milkweed

Monarch butterflies are bigger than Viceroys, but I didn't have the two different kinds sitting side by side in order to do a comparison.  To determine this fellow's identification, I had to look for other differences.

One difference is that the bottom row of orange spots on a Monarch are concave, meaning they stick out.  On a Viceroy they are convex, or indented.  That way my main clue.  Also, the Viceroy has a black line that runs through his bottom wings, and the Monarch does not.  Additionally, male Monarchs have two black scent glands on their bottom wings, as pictured below.  Viceroys don't have those spots.

Female Monarchs don't have the black scent glands, but they do have thicker black veining between their orange spots.  Due to this factor, I would guess that the butterfly in the first photo above is a female.

Monarch butterfly on pea partridge

The Monarch is one of the biggest butterflies around, and is well-known for its coloring, and amazing migration journeys.  A chemical in the milkweed they love to feeds on causes them to taste bitter when chomped on by predators.  Predators soon learn to leave Monarchs alone, and anything that even looks like them, such as the Viceroys.  Great defense mechanisms!

Pretty Pea Partridge

Pea partridge is one of my favorite native plants of all time.  I was first introduced to it at Nahant Marsh three years ago, and we have been friends ever since.

It has small yellow flowers on reddish stalks, with reddish-brown centers.  Its long leaves are made up many compound leaflets.  Once we met, I began seeing it everywhere.

Pea partridge can grow in thick clusters, providing superior cover for birds and other wildlife, which can move easily through these stands.  Such ease of movement is not possible through stands of similar but invasive plant species.

Pea partridge is a plant we can be really happy about.  It is pleasing to the eye, and good for the soil.  It is important in honey production, and as a food source and egg depository for butterflies such as the common sulphur.  It is also eminently useful to larger wildlife.

The pea pods ripen by late fall.  They eventually burst, and there small black seeds are dispersed.  The cool thing about these seeds is that they are highly waterproof, helping them to last well through the winter months.  Not only do they winter well, but they are high in protein and low in fiber, making them easily digestible - perfect for bobwhites and other game birds.

Butterfly Milkweed

Today's picture is of butterfly milkweed.  This is a native plant with an appealing bright orange color.

Butterfly milkweed attracts not only butterflies, including Monarchs, but bees, wasps, beetles, and hummingbirds as well.

Contrary to its name, this particular variety of milkweed does not have a milky sap.  Common names for it include Canada root, chigger flower, and pleurisy root (due to its healing propensities).  It's scientific name is Asclepias tuberosa.  This comes from the the name of the Greek god of healing, and tuberosa, meaning swollen, knobby or tuberous.

It Came from the Swamp!

Another Greek god?  Absolutely!

Swamp milkweed is designated as Asclepias incarnata.  Asclepias comes from Asclepius, the god of healing. This makes sense because milkweed is known for its use in many healing remedies.  Incarnata refers to the somewhat flesh-colored blooms, and is related to the word "incarnate", which means "in the flesh".

Swamp milkweed is just one kind of milkweed.  As pictured below, it is generally pink, varying in shades lighter and darker.  

It is most at home in moist soil, has a stronger fragrance than you might expect, and is beloved of Monarch butterflies.  In fact, it is a crucial source of food for them, and they lay their eggs on this plant.  It grows wild, but there are many cultivated varieties as well.

It is also called Swamp Silkweed and Indian Hemp.

A Goose Story

When I was walking on the bike trail the other day, I noticed a lone goose ahead of me.  He was walking in the same direction that I was.  He had a chain link fence on his left, and the river on his right.

A flock of his compatriots were happily feeding in a grassy field beyond the chain link fence.  The fence had just started a few feet behind me.  He must have wandered around the end of it before I came along, and accidentally gotten separated from his flock.

A bicyclist came at him from the other direction.  The goose got agitated, but the wise cyclist gave him a wide berth and quickly moved past.  I was surprised that this goose did not fly over the fence to be with his fellows.  That's what I would have done.

The goose kept looking over at his family and friends, honking.  As I continued my walk, approaching closer to him, he began really crowding the fence, looking up, down, and all around for a way through it. No such luck.  If he could have climbed through one of those tiny little holes, he would have.  He desperately wanted to get away from me and back to his people.  In a word, he was distressed.

I wondered if I would be able to get past him without being attacked.  You might laugh, but Canada geese can be very aggressive.  They have been known to attack people when they feel threatened.  So I was cautious.

I thought to myself that if I could get past him, then maybe I could herd him back the other way, to where the fence ended.  Then he could rejoin his group.  Otherwise, if he continued in his original direction, he would be cut off from his family by half a mile of fence or more, as it circled around a factory and out of sight.  I knew he would be ok in the end, but we humans like to feel helpful, and I could see myself as the hero of the day - "Woman Helps Goose Reunite With Family!"

The goose took matters into his own wings, and out of desperation he fled down the rocky embankment and  into the river.  He was now completely out of sight of the other geese, but at least he was heading back in the  right direction.  He eyed me suspiciously as he paddled vigorously away.  I wished him luck and continued my walk, wondering how it would all turn out for him.

Twenty minutes later as I returned along the same path, I saw him again, back on the bike trail.  He was very near the end of the chain link fence, and I felt great hope that he would soon be reunited with his feathered friends - if he could just get around the end of that barrier!  He was facing the wrong way, however, and I wondered what kind of goose thoughts he was thinking.  Was he just sunbathing, or was he still confused about how to get to the other geese?

Suddenly, another goose appeared, having flown over from the grassy field.  The two of them had a brief, loud reunion, and then swooped away to a nearby pond.  Finally he was back among his own kind!  I shouted congratulations to them, and felt happy in my heart.  No one likes to be in forced separation from their family.

I don't know for sure, but I think this particular goose was born just this spring, and was a novice at dealing with such barriers.  Baby Canada geese stay with their families for a year before going off on their own, and they are never so happy and comfortable as when they are with their flock.  I was glad to see the end of his little drama, and couldn't help but extrapolate to human relationships.  Sometimes in life we wander off course and find ourselves separated from our friends and family.  Once we realize this, we may look back on our life regretfully, and wonder how to get back.  There is usually someone else who sees our situation more clearly than us, and could help us if we would let them.  I hope that if any of us find ourselves in such a situation, that we will go directly to the source of all help - our loving Heavenly Father - and seek for inspiration to know what we are to do.

Great Neck!

The great blue heron stands about four feet tall, give or take a little.  This one, at the local marina, appears to be not yet fully mature, as he seems to be missing the white on his crown.  At any rate, he was standing tall and proud on the dock, pretty much master of all he surveyed.

A couple of moments later, he had retracted his long, powerful neck into an "s" shape, and looked like a totally different bird. 

I assure you that this is the same bird in both photographs - just in different poses.

This second pose is the heron's hunter pose, and the neck is ready for springing action.  

Herons hunt and eat fish, snakes, frogs, small birds, and insects.  They also hunt rodents such as gophers and rats in fields.  They are premier hunters, combining indomitable patience with precision striking ability.

And the Winner Is...

Dear Readers,

Thank you for all of your enthusiasm and participation as you helped me celebrate the achievement of my 100th blog post milestone.  I loved the increased interaction with you wonderful readers.  You guys are great!

Read all about it!  Found on the Trail readers are a special brand of AWESOME!

Thank you to all who entered!  The long-anticipated results are in!

We had two top entries - both scoring 100% on the quiz.  (Way to go!)  At random, in a scientifically controlled process that took place in our kitchen, one person out of that group was randomly selected to receive the much-vaunted prize.

It is, therefore, with great delight that I announce to you the winner of the 100th Blot Post contest for Found on the Trail.  Let it be known throughout the blogosphere that the winner is.... Stacey!  Woot!  Woot!

Newsflash!  Stacey wins the prize!  Hip!  Hip!  Hooray!

Stacey is a long-distance reader, an astute observer of nature, and an intrepid nature adventuress.  Congratulations to her!  She will be receiving five free notecards printed with the pictures of her choice.  Hurray!

Xstream Cleanup 2012

Xstream Cleanup is a local project here in the Quad Cities where volunteers clean up garbage in and along the local streams and rivers.  This annual project has been going on since 2004 and has literally removed TONS of trash from the waterways around here - everything from sunken barges, tractors and pianos to barbecue grills, bowling balls, and messages in bottles (over 60 and counting).

I Live Here!  And I am going to help keep it clean!

Here are some of the community-wide stats for this year:

658 Tires

16 Appliances

16 Bicycles

22 Pieces of Furniture

37 Televisions

16 Mattresses

Also pulled out were tarps, barrels, chain link fencing, road construction signs, gun parts, a holster and bullets, a knife, kiddie pools, strollers, a wedding dress, a Batman belt, carpet, a toilet, car batteries - bumpers - windshields - fenders, and yes, even the proverbial kitchen sink.

This year there were 1,476 volunteers, and members of our scout troop were in the mix.  

In total, 47,496 pounds of garbage were removed from the rivers and connecting waterways in the Quad Cities area.

Our troop site, at Pigeon Creek Park, produced plenty of trash for the picking.  Some was on shore...

... and some was out in the water, making it much more difficult to remove - what with the drag weight of the mud and water.

Tires and barrels, which looked like they should be easy to roll out of the river, were held down in the mud under the water with a powerful hold.

Our biggest find was a sealed 55 gallon drum.  It was sunk over halfway in the mud, and for a while we weren't sure we would be able to get it out.

Teamwork and determination finally got that barrel rolled up onto the shore.  

It was too big and heavy to transport through the brush to the parking lot, so the site was flagged for pickup by the Living Lands & Waters cleanup barge.  We were just glad that whatever is in it didn't leak out into the river.

With the drought, a lot more trash was visible on the banks and in the shallow water than in past years.  It was a great day, and the weather was perfect.  

Everyone out there was happy to be working and helping, even if they did get wet and dirty.

I think our most unexpected find was an Isabel Bloom pumpkin.  She was a local artist whose sculptures are iconic in this area.  Her studio remains in business here in the Quad Cities.

If you live in the Quad Cities and have never done the Xstream Cleanup before, put it on your calendar for next year.  Gloves and trash bags are provided, and you walk away with a free event t-shirt and a sense of satisfaction at having done something to help our lands and waters.