Two Crane Mountain Trips

This week has turned out to be Crane Mountain Week so far. It's only Tuesday and I've climbed up twice. Sunday's adventure took me to the northernmost slopes of the mountain, the area where most hikers don't travel. I love the open ledges and the views, which are more comprehensive than those available from the summit. On Sunday, the day was so clear, we were viewing the Green Mountains in Vermont as well as the Adirondack High Peaks to the north.

Today's climb took us up into the clouds--literally. Low-lying clouds drizzled on us, and at times let loose a bit of rain. At around half past twelve, the sun broke through and the air became warm and humid. Today I was guiding an international group: about 7 teens from the Netherlands and 6 American young people. As one might expect, their spirits were high, and from time to time they broke into song, which was fun. The most common question on the way up: How much longer to the top? The question on the way down: How long until we're back at the trailhead?

Butterfly Time!

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The woods are becoming quieter and quieter as each day passes. For most birds, the breeding period is long gone and the nesting time will soon close. As the fledgings grow and gain their independence, the songbirds' northern sojourn will come to an end no later than late September. Yet many warblers will begin their "fall" migratory trip to the tropics toward the end of July and in August.

For breeding fireworks, however, there is always the American goldfinch, the last songbird to breed, to entertain us birders. If you have the time and can hang out with a bunch of goldfinches for a while in mid-August, watch for their incredible aeronautic courtship displays.

And what about the butterflies? They're in full swing in northern fields and pastures. Even in the forests, a few can be found. I planted a butterfly bush (buddliea) this year in a gigantic pot on my deck and enjoy having them so close by. Monarda is another perennial that's worth planting if you want more butterflies in your yard.

It mystifies me. Last year the milkweed, a favorite food of Monarch butterflies, bloomed in mid-June and this year it's blooming now, in mid-July. I've tried to recall what makes this summer's weather different than last. One huge difference has been this summer's very cool nights, with many temps in the 50s, occasionally dropping to the high 40s. The nighttime chill has retarded the growth of almost every vegetable except for the lettuces.

Besides delaying their major food supply, butterflies are bothered by cold as well, and there do seem to be fewer of them now. If the weather warms up as expected (the long-range forecast says a heat wave is coming late next week), I'm going to watch to see if more butterflies appear.

No nature hikes this morning. I'm currently (yes, right this minute) teaching a workshop "The Brave New World of Fiction Blogging" for the Adirondack "Fiction among Friends" Writers' Retreat.

Bear Hunting Dogs on the Loose

Early Saturday morning I was enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee and a good book while lounging on the living room couch. The slider door was open and I had half an ear tuned to birdsong.

First I heard the growling of young bears in the distance, in the far reaches of our back property or our next door neighbor's property and beyond. It sounded a bit like the cubs were carousing and wrestling each other. Next came the furious barking of dogs, lots of dogs raising a racket. By this time, I was out the slider and on the deck, listening and alarmed. All of this was followed by the deep growls and bellows of a mature bear, growling over and over while the dogs continued to bark. By this time, I'd pulled Ken out of bed and we were both standing on the deck.



Any good scent hound, like these foxhounds, can hunt bear
As the barking and growling continued, I imagined the cubs surrounded by dogs, or perhaps the mother bear surrounded. Or perhaps the dogs had managed to get the cubs up a tree, or the mother. After about ten minutes, the sounds stopped.

Later, on my walk with Sophie, I ran into a neighbor and told him the story. He shook his head. "I'm sorry he's doing that."

"You know whose dogs they were?" I asked.

"Sounds like the fellow training his bear hunting dogs. It's not legal to hunt bears in New York," he said, "but you can train them here. This guy hunts bears in Vermont."

In the course of my travels later in the morning, I found out the name of the local person who this neighbor was referring to. I later had his name confirmed by several other people.

I placed a call to New York State's Department of Environmental Conservation and eventually got to have a good long talk with the game warden who covers our area. As people had told me, July 1st was the first day of the season when hunters are allowed to train dogs to track bears. The warden pointed out, however, that a person has to obtain a special permit to do this. Steve (the warden) said he'd see if any permits were filed for our area.

What a time to have this bear tracking training season, though! The time when mother bears and their cubs are at their most vulnerable. Just think of the stress this mother bear and cubs went through over this incident. It made me angry and sad. If New York does not allow hunting bears with dogs, then it should not allow this "training" to go on.

While writing this entry, the phone rang. It was the game warden, letting me know that the hunter believed to have been involved in this incident does indeed have a permit. The cost of the permit? $100/year.

News from My Neck of the Woods

It’s fascinating to wander one’s home territory and keep track of the wildlife and the wild plants, and to observe the changes week by week and day by day. When did the creek slow to a trickle this year, and when did it last year? What’s going on with the wild strawberry crop: Who’s eating the strawberries, how do the ripening dates compare with last year’s, and what’s the quality like? And for wildlife, how many does have I seen, and how many fawns? (By the way, a mother bear and her two cubs are in the area this year, and I wonder if it’s the same female that had two cubs here last year.)

No, I didn't take this photo. Yikes! (Public domain)
I’m not sure of the number of acres surrounding my home that I regularly traipse during the course of a week, but I’d count at least 175 acres as my home territory. I own a mere fraction of this landscape of hills, meadows, swamps, marshes, and woodlands, but I watch over all of it. In fact, I feel sometimes like the caretaker of a huge estate.

As the months pass, there are victories and tragedies to account for. A victory this year was the return of “my’ chestnut-sided warbler. This beautiful male and his mate have a nest in the exact same area they did last year, not far from our stream. I know it’s the same pair because the male has a song that’s unique. Of course his song is similar to all chestnut-sideds, but he has a unique variation. I swear he says, “Mo-ga-dee-shew, with the accent on the “dee.” So this couple has nested, as has “our” indigo bunting pair, and several pairs of common yellowthroats.

The tragedy was at a new neighbor’s place. They have dug a foundation for their second—no, wait—I think it’s their third home--on land they prepared last summer. I worried last year about the scarlet tanager that nests on their property. I don’t know if he and his mate successfully raised a family last summer or not. But he returned this year, and everything seemed to be going well until two weeks ago. The owner returned to put in a “road” of sorts for his electric hook-up. This man's driveway is too winding to be used as a direct route for the electricity running to the house. The trees were chainsawed right down the middle of the scarlet tanager’s territory. I haven’t heard him sing since.

Speaking of nests, you know, even when I know where a nest is, I never approach it. I never even go close by. I know lots of naturalists like to get close to see the nest or see the eggs. I know these people wait until the parents are out foraging, but I believe the birds know when a human has invaded their territory. Birds need space, inviolate space, if they are to thrive while raising their young. They have enough problems from wildlife marauders, and they have enough trouble finding the amount of undisturbed land they need for their nesting areas.

So, what’s going on in your neck of the woods?