Fruiting bounty

Orange mushrooms with light concave center

I was beginning to lament the end of mushroom hunting season when nature surprised me once again. Walking through the woods last week I stumbled across a patch of bright orange mushrooms. Whiskers twitching and tail wagging, I pushed through the grass and called out to Tinkerbelle. Tucked away in the shadow of the tall grass, a large fruiting colony had spread through the undergrowth. We had never seen anything like it before. Delighted by this find, we stopped by to admire it often. Then one drizzly morning as we went by the patch, we noticed that the fruitbodies had changed dramatically. The caps had flattened and the color had deepened to a dark orange creating the appearance of a completely different mushroom.  While surprised by this development, it is not unusual for mushrooms to change as they age. Our best guess as to the species is that these are Jack O'Lanterns or a type of Lactarius.

As the days went by its appearance changed dramatically

Sam I am

This week a new member joined the pack. The first thing that struck me about the new member was his unusual appearance.  He was short and round with very little fur, no snout, and no ears.  Tinkerbelle said "Come meet Sam." "Sam," he said, "I am." It turns out Sam is to be in charge of cleaning up after the pack. I had my doubts about whether Sam enjoyed this task much as he seemed to emit a continuous grumble even as he went about performing his assigned duties. But my concerns were allayed when he nudged me off of my favorite rug and set about enthusiastically cleaning it. I'm beginning to think Sam rather likes his task, zooming around importantly, nudging us all out of his way, then retreating to his favorite spot under the dresser to take a nap.

He nudged me off my favorite rug

The hawks again

One day, earlier this week, we encountered the hawks again. It was by the stream that we saw the first one. We must have startled it as we walked by as it rose suddenly from below and disappeared into the trees. Then the air filled with screeches - the kind a hawk makes when it circles the skies. We scanned the treetops trying to follow the sound but saw nothing but the dense canopy. We had started to move on when, from  the opposite direction, the second hawk appeared flying high up into the tree before us. Then we understood. The startled offspring had called for its mother and here she was. From the branches above she watched us, and when satisfied that we presented no threat, she silently departed in the direction of the stream. We chatted happily about seeing the hawks again as we made our way home, stopping only to admire a butterfly as it landed in the grass.

Monarch butterfly on a blade of grass

Favorite things

One of my favorite things to do on our daily walks is to sniff out mushrooms and other fungi and point them out to Tinkerbelle. Tinkerbelle keeps track of all the different varieties that I find. The peak season for mushroom fruiting is spring and early summer, and so by now, most of the mushrooms have disappeared. But, sometimes when you are least expecting it, you find the thing you weren't expecting to find.  And so it was this morning, as we walked along the trail, that I caught the pleasant scent of a polypore. Tracking the scent, I uncovered a large fruiting specimen carefully concealed in the foliage. Commonly found in wooded areas, polypores are identified by their dense layers of fan-shaped brackets.  This one is possibly a bitter polypore or a black-staining polypore.

I tracked the scent of a polypore

The polypore was concealed in the foliage

A visitor to the pond

Although the pond is regularly inhabited by the mallards, every now and then a visitor comes its way.  There are the seasonal visitors like the Canadian geese that fly in every fall on their way south. Then there are the occasional visitors that appear every now and then.  I remember the first such visitor we saw, a snowy white bird towering tall and graceful among the stout brown ducks.  Its yellow bill and black legs marked it as a Great Egret. It stayed around for about a week, its white feathers beaming like a beacon against the  murky waters of the pond. Then one day it left, most likely on its way to brighten another pond.

A Great Egret visits the pond



It stood tall and graceful among the ducks





A very hot week

"Topsie's gone flopsie, again," I remarked to Tinkerbelle.  It had been a very hot week and Topsie was having the worst of it.  Five minutes into a walk and she was flopped down on the ground. And there she would lay despite Tinkerbelle's coaxing, rolling around among the cooler blades of grass.  I wished Topsie wouldn't fuss so much about the heat because it usually ended up with a trip to the groomer. Sure enough, a few days later, there we were getting our fur clipped.  To be fair, a shorter cut is more comfortable and Topsie even got two bows in her hair.

Topsie flopped down

Topsie with bows in her hair

An unexpected surprise

Today, as we set off down the trail, I spotted in the distance what looked like a small pile of dry leaves on the side of the trail.  But, as we got closer, we were met with an unexpected surprise as the pile of leaves turned out to be a turtle. I stopped to say hello, but it seemed to be in a hurry and did not stop to chat.  As it marched off, about as quickly as a turtle can, we bid it good day and went on our way.

I stopped to say hello to an eastern box turtle

The spotted bird

This morning as we walked along the trail, a bird bobbing in the grass caught my eye. The bird was unusual in that it was covered in spots and had a distinctive crescent mark upon its chest.  Not having seen a bird like this before, we crept in for a closer look.  The bird, unperturbed, posed patiently for a picture. Then, in a flash of white, it flew away. Later, when Tinkerbelle looked it up, we learned that the bird was a Northern Flicker woodpecker, a species that likes to eat ants from the ground.

A Northern Flicker woodpecker

The rescue

Yesterday, as Tinkerbelle and I set off on our afternoon walk, we decided to try a different route.  It was along this route that we spotted the fallen baby bird.  It was still alive, so Tinkerbelle picked it up with a doggie bag and looked for the nest. The nest was carefully concealed among the branches of a nearby tree. Tinkerbelle climbed the tree as I stood guard below.  Placing the bird in the nest  proved to be difficult as the nest appeared to be occupied. Then, with the help of two passersby, and after a few more tries, the baby was back in the nest. When we went to check on it this morning we were sadden to see that it had not made it. But, as we looked up at the tree, the sounds of chirping reminded us that though the nest had lost one, it was still full of life.

The nest was wedged high up in the tree

A rare sight

One day, not long ago, as we walked by the stream that flows through the glen, a sudden movement caught my eye.  As I turned to look, I was startled by the sight of a large red fox drinking at the stream.  "Oh quick" cried Topsie, as Tinkerbelle fumbled for the camera.  Disturbed by  the commotion, the fox slunk away into the brush.  Undeterred, I scanned the banks until I spotted a splash of red amidst all the green.  And, there, peering at us from the bushes on the other side of stream was the largest fox I had ever seen. It was at least twice my size, maybe bigger. We stared at it for a long while not wanting to leave as a fox in these parts is a rare sight. 

It peered at us through the branches

The old adage

Now, the ducks that inhabit the pond are not the most organized creatures.  In fact, despite the old adage, I can say with some certainty that we have never seen the ducks organized in a row ... until today.  Straddling a floating log in the middle of the pond, was an almost perfect row of ducks.  So surprised were we, that we stopped to take in this charming sight. 

Ducks in a row

Something new

Every now and then, we discover something new along the trail.  Today, as we walked past the wild strawberry patch we noticed an over growth of bramble bushes.  There was nothing particularly remarkable about the bushes until I saw the berries.  I went in for a closer look and discovered that they were raspberries.  Most had not ripened yet, but as I sniffed around I spotted one ripe berry and pointed it out to Tinkerbelle. Tinkerbelle was delighted and said that it would be lovely in a fruit salad.



I spotted one ripe berry



An obstacle in our path

This morning as we set off on our walk, we encountered an obstacle in our path.  A large tree had come down during the storm the previous night and lay across the trail.  As we stood before it wondering whether to turn back or not, I moved forward to examine the fallen tree.  The trunk of the tree was fairly thick and high off the ground making it difficult to climb over.  I thought my best chance was to crawl under the trunk to the other side.  However, as I started to squeezed myself under the tree, branches and leaves blocked my exit.  Eventually, Tinkerbelle gave me a leg up and I jumped over the tree to the other side. 


I inspected the obstacle in our path

The view from the other side

The offspring

It was not long after we first met the newcomer that we were introduced to the offspring.  Although similar in appearance to the newcomer, we learned to distinguish it by its round appearance and youthful confidence. Where the newcomer was cautious, the offspring was curious.  It seemed unperturbed by our presence often lingering to observe us with interest even as the newcomer sought safety in distance. I  believe that we came to enjoy each others company whenever luck would have us cross paths.  Then, as spring turned into summer and fall, we ceased to see either the newcomer or the offspring.  It was not until almost a year later, earlier this spring, that we encountered those reminiscent flashes of tawny red.  Was it the newcomer or the offspring? It appeared to be neither, as this bird had a diminutive appearance and seemed to tumble through the air.  As we watched, another flash of tawny red.  This time confident and soaring.  And then, there she was, the newcomer had returned.  And, under her watchful eye, another offspring was learning to flying, testing its wings in the safety of the glen.

The offspring was distinguishable by its round appearance

The first offspring in the winter of 2012

The newcomer

We first saw the newcomer last winter.  I recall the blur of tawny red  feathers gliding silently past us that left us gaping in the wake of its presence.  Tinkerbelle looked in the bird book and informed us that the newcomer was a red-shouldered hawk.  The hawk was the first predator we had seen in the glen.  We saw her regularly in the days that followed...usually hunting some prey in the early hours of the morning.   She never seemed particularly bothered by us, moving only when our paths crossed then returning to her business as we went by. We wondered what had brought the newcomer to the glen...and we would soon find out.

She was a red-shouldered hawk

The newcomer

Things that magically appear

This morning as we approached the trail, we were met with a pleasant surprise.  Someone had paved the trail with fresh wood chips. We speculated about who might be responsible for this wondrous deed.  "Perhaps it was the city" said Tinkerbelle.  "Or the neighborhood association" I offered.  "I think it was the woodland elves" Topsie declared.  Well, we were grateful to whomever had placed the wood chips and spent the rest of the day in blissful acknowledgment that sometimes things just magically appear.

Hooray for wood chips!

The angry sentry

I should have sensed trouble the minute I spotted the bird perched at the top of a very tall street lamp, but I was distracted by the  flowerbed just below.  As I busied myself among the flowers, the bird flew down to a signpost and glared at Tinkerbelle.  It was a Mocking bird.  Tinkerbelle got the message and tugged at me, "Come on, Tango."  As I reluctantly moved away, the bird flew straight at my rear end.  Annoyed, I told it off.  But, it was not done yet.  It's next pass was at Tinkerbelle, flying across her face.  "It felt like a scene from The Birds," she later said.  We could only think that there must be a nest nearby. As we moved away quickly, the bird stood in the street glaring after us.

   

The sentry perched at the top of a street lamp



It stood in the street and glared at us



After the storm

Last night a violent storm swept through the area.  Heavy rains punctuated by flashes of lightening and claps of thunder filled the air.  Topsie, who hates storms, trembled with fear and paced restlessly through the house.  Eventually, the storm passed leaving the air a bit cooler and fresher.  This morning, as we set off on our walk, debris littered our path. Branches and leaves torn off by the storm lay scattered along the trail. We trod carefully through the debris, mindful that this was the beginning of the stormy season that lay ahead.

Debris from the storm littered the trail

Another broken egg

The mystery deepened today when Topsie found another broken egg.  This too was a duck egg similar to the one we uncovered the previous day.  It was located closer to the pond, and it too had been cracked open and emptied of its contents. We noticed similarities in both cases.  For one, both eggs appear to have been broken in a similar fashion with an opening or hole having been made in the top of each egg.  The other thing we noticed is that around both eggs shallow holes had been dug in the earth.  Despite these clues, we have yet to solve this mystery.

This too was a duck egg

The mystery of the broken egg

It was Topsie who found the broken egg.  Her sharp sense of smell led us straight to it.  We gathered around and looked at it ... a white broken eggshell a bit larger than a chicken egg.  "A duck egg," I surmised.  It was still nesting season and the ducks from the pond nest in the area.  Someone or something had raided a nest and stolen an egg.  But who or what?  We looked at each other in somber silence as our questions hung unanswered in the air. 

A white broken eggshell