Nature Note #166: A Walk in the Park
It's always wonderful to find a place where you can relax outside. After having lived in central New York for just over a year, I finally feel like I've found a natural area I can call my own. When I lived in Massachusetts, my sacred place was a bend in the Sudbury River along a trail on Heard's Conservation Land in Wayland. After a half mile walk through mowed fields and old farm hedges, I reached the edge of the thicket. The gnarled trail was often muddy due to its proximity to the nearby marsh and in the late summer, it was bordered by goldenrod, vetch, and asters.
As you continued along the trail, tree roots provided chances to trip and ensnare sandals, while low hanging branches gently brushed the top of my head. Occasionally, an overzealous one would batter me in the face as well, but after navigating this gauntlet, you would be met with a wonderful view.
The river is old. Lazily it travels along the marshy edges, while red-winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) chimed their raspy melodies in the cattails. Bass and pickerel sought shelter in the weeds and shadows awaiting their prey and at the same time trying to avoid the prying eyes of a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) or well hidden mink (Neovison vison).
After I returned from work one evening this week, Alison and I decided to take a quick trip to Marcellus Park. We visited it for the first time this past Sunday and the overall feel of the place was tranquil and amiable. By far and away, my favorite feature of the park is the presence of a ambling stream called Ninemile Creek that snakes its way through the heart of the park.
Our trip was a chance to stretch our legs after being inside most of the day and to hang out with Mother Nature. Within the first few minutes of arriving, we got to see several spring migrants bouncing through the trees and shrubs that bordered the parking lot. Wood thrushes (Hylocichla mustelina) and robins sang heartily with the former weaving delicate trills and warbles like silver thread through cloth. Several catbirds mewed and chattered as we watched from the lawn, eager to hide themselves in the maze of branches, away from prying human eyes.
We looked up to see a bright orange bird whistling simply and stopping to investigate the emerging blooms on a nearby bush. It was about the size of a robin, with black wings and head, blaze orange flanks, and white wing bars.
"Baltimore!", I shouted. It barely moved as I exclaimed my identification.
"Are you sure it isn't an orchard oriole?", Alison replied.
I snapped a few photos for confirmation.
"Definitely Baltimore. See the brighter orange?"
She nodded and we smiled. Another spring migrant!
Slowly, we moved along a looping trail that followed Ninemile Creek towards the back of the nearby Braeside Apartments before flowing near our residence along the main street through town. As we wandered along, the trees loomed overhead, while another pair of orioles chattered above us.
The stream, quick and cool, raced over stone and pebbles. A small peep emitted from the shore as I spotted a grey and white shorebird.
"Spotted sandpiper!", I cried.
"Where?", Alison replied.
"Along the shore." I pointed to the bird as it picked its way along the shore with quick and deliberate steps. "There!"
"Hmmm. I don't see any spots though", she replied.
It was true. The bird I had seen lacked the spots indicative of a spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularius). I looked harder at the photos. It did have spots, but not on the breast. It was spotted on its wings instead. As it turned out, this was a solitary sandpiper (Tringa solitaria) instead.
True to its name, they prefer their own company and aren't usually seen with others of their own kind. I wonder how far their solitary nature goes though as clearly some are getting together to make other solitary sandpipers. Perhaps they're all just introverts.
As we started back towards the car, we stopped by the edge of the stream to look for bugs. You read that correctly. As a nature-minded couple, one of our favorite nature exploration activities involves looking under rocks for insect larvae. When I worked as a teacher naturalist in New Jersey, I learned how to read a stream's healthiness based on its biodiversity. Simply put, you pick up rocks looking for all sorts of insect life and determine if the stream is healthy or not based on what species you find.
If there are more species that prefer clear, cold water, it usually indicates a stream with greater dissolved oxygen which is used by most water adapted organisms for survival. Species that prefer clean, clear water include may, stone, and caddis flies. Without a high concentration of dissolved oxygen, the stream would experience rapid algae growth and be home to pollution tolerant species like leeches, snails, and mosquito larvae.
We found mainly stone and mayflies, along with a few water pennies. Those last creatures are the larval form of a group of aquatic beetles (more info can be found here) and are also used as an indication of good water quality.
As we left the park, I felt satisfied that I'd found a new sacred place to spend my free time. While it will never replace the memories of spending my summers along the Sudbury River, it helped to enhance my appreciation for those experiences. By finding a natural place to explore, I will have discoveries to make again and again as I visit it over the summer. Maybe it'll become my new favorite place to visit. Then again, I still haven't been to Baltimore Woods nearby and it might provide some stiff competition for my preferred birding hot spot.
Only time will tell.
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| Sudbury River, Wayland, MA in 2014 |
The river is old. Lazily it travels along the marshy edges, while red-winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) chimed their raspy melodies in the cattails. Bass and pickerel sought shelter in the weeds and shadows awaiting their prey and at the same time trying to avoid the prying eyes of a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) or well hidden mink (Neovison vison).
After I returned from work one evening this week, Alison and I decided to take a quick trip to Marcellus Park. We visited it for the first time this past Sunday and the overall feel of the place was tranquil and amiable. By far and away, my favorite feature of the park is the presence of a ambling stream called Ninemile Creek that snakes its way through the heart of the park.
 |
| A look downstream along Ninemile Creek |
We looked up to see a bright orange bird whistling simply and stopping to investigate the emerging blooms on a nearby bush. It was about the size of a robin, with black wings and head, blaze orange flanks, and white wing bars.
"Are you sure it isn't an orchard oriole?", Alison replied.
I snapped a few photos for confirmation.
"Definitely Baltimore. See the brighter orange?"
She nodded and we smiled. Another spring migrant!
Slowly, we moved along a looping trail that followed Ninemile Creek towards the back of the nearby Braeside Apartments before flowing near our residence along the main street through town. As we wandered along, the trees loomed overhead, while another pair of orioles chattered above us.
The stream, quick and cool, raced over stone and pebbles. A small peep emitted from the shore as I spotted a grey and white shorebird.
"Spotted sandpiper!", I cried.
"Where?", Alison replied.
"Along the shore." I pointed to the bird as it picked its way along the shore with quick and deliberate steps. "There!"
"Hmmm. I don't see any spots though", she replied.
It was true. The bird I had seen lacked the spots indicative of a spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularius). I looked harder at the photos. It did have spots, but not on the breast. It was spotted on its wings instead. As it turned out, this was a solitary sandpiper (Tringa solitaria) instead.
True to its name, they prefer their own company and aren't usually seen with others of their own kind. I wonder how far their solitary nature goes though as clearly some are getting together to make other solitary sandpipers. Perhaps they're all just introverts.
As we started back towards the car, we stopped by the edge of the stream to look for bugs. You read that correctly. As a nature-minded couple, one of our favorite nature exploration activities involves looking under rocks for insect larvae. When I worked as a teacher naturalist in New Jersey, I learned how to read a stream's healthiness based on its biodiversity. Simply put, you pick up rocks looking for all sorts of insect life and determine if the stream is healthy or not based on what species you find.
 |
| One large stonefly (left) and several small caddisflies. |
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| Another large stonefly |
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| Yet another large stonefly |
We found mainly stone and mayflies, along with a few water pennies. Those last creatures are the larval form of a group of aquatic beetles (more info can be found here) and are also used as an indication of good water quality.
As we left the park, I felt satisfied that I'd found a new sacred place to spend my free time. While it will never replace the memories of spending my summers along the Sudbury River, it helped to enhance my appreciation for those experiences. By finding a natural place to explore, I will have discoveries to make again and again as I visit it over the summer. Maybe it'll become my new favorite place to visit. Then again, I still haven't been to Baltimore Woods nearby and it might provide some stiff competition for my preferred birding hot spot.
Only time will tell.
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