Snakes

In the hedgerow above the pond was a large rock. Right in the way. Bears find these big rocks along the edges of fields and in hedgerows and tip them over looking for food. The rocks inevitably end up back in the field and eventually I have to throw the rock back out of the field to get it out of the way. So I tipped this rock up to toss it as I was explaining to Jann how it got there and I found these lovers underneath. She jumped and screamed of course. But I didn't find out until later because I jumped higher and screamed louder.

These are common garter snakes. No small things either. These were about 18" to 24" long! I have also seen eastern milk snakes (what we used to call spotted adders, one about 3'), and a northern ringneck snake. Fortunately no rattlesnakes.

From the SUNY-ESF website: The most widespread and frequently encountered snakes in New York state are the garter snake and the water snake. Garter snakes use a wide variety of habitats, from woodlands to marshes to fields and exist quite well around human habitations. These snakes, like many other species, are variable in color and pattern; the basic color is dark brown or green with three yellowish stripes down their sides and back. They may reach lengths of two feet, but are typically smaller. They are completely harmless to people. Except for the fear factor (My add).

Did you know they give birth to their young live? Yep. 30 – 40 little creepy crawly things at a time.

Save The Tree

I know I am boring you with all the stories on the pond. Please bear with me. I only have a few more. One is about THE TREE. When they engineered the pond I had two requests: as big as possible; and save THE TREE.

When they came back to do the finish grading several weeks ago, they wanted to take out THE TREE. They said it would make the bank too steep to try to work around it. I said NO. They said we’ll have to trim a few branches then. Seemed like a very reasonable compromise. And I think the grade of the bank will be just fine. It’ll be worth it to keep this beautiful tree that is the most colorful tree in the valley each year.

A problem with a pond is that you have trouble mowing right down to the edge and you have this tall, ugly growth around the edge unless you use a gas powered weed eater. We experimented with a novel approach and planted a plethora of wildflower seeds around the edge. It’ll be interesting to see how it turns out.

And Loren said he would be envious when we were sitting by the pond and watching the swallows skim across the water while he was sitting by his kiddie pool. Take your laptop out by the pool and watch this video.

Done Dock

Well, the dock is now done. Oh, it’s missing a few screws (but so am I). It would have been all done except the drill battery ran out of energy (and so did I). It seems like it has taken forever, since I started it last October. Right after the pond was built, I scrambled to get the posts set and braced well. I hate a wobbly dock. And this is in 6 feet of water on one end. The water was coming up 6 – 18” per week, so I didn’t have much time. It turned out solid as a rock. The ladder works well too.

You will also note that most of the dock boards are recycled lumber. Recycled because I am so environmentally conscience (read cheap). The deck boards at the deck in Painted Post were getting pretty tired for a nice deck and they were spaced poorly. So the pond dock gets the old and the house deck will get new. Someday. (Don’t tell Jann I said that.)

So we went over tonight and jumped in. First time. Warm on top. Cold on bottom.

And this frog sat under the dock the whole time and croaked every once in awhile. I finally hung over the dock and took this picture bottom side up.

Boogey Man

I published a post on April 24, No Cleaning, showing that I had cleared a trail and asked you to guess where it was. Mom came the closest so she wins the prize of a free trail ride. It was intended as a lead in to today’s topic. The picture was taken just yards from a former logging shack which is a key to this story.

Growing up in Biscuit Hollow, we had a real live boogey man. When we went for walks, we might catch him lurking behind a tree watching us. The girls never dared go outside at night. We always wondered if he was looking in our windows at night. And on occasion, when he came upon a bottle of hooch, he would pace back and forth across the top of the hill in his drunken stupor, screaming and yelling and talking to himself unintelligibly, except for the four letter words.

His name was Gordon Mosher, and he probably was quite harmless. Today, he would have been considered homeless and perhaps, treated much differently. After his parents died and the County foreclosed on their nearby property, he had no where else to go and moved in to an old ramshackle logging hut on my Grandparents land, now owned by my Aunt Anna Sawyer. He was learning disabled and probably never received much schooling. But he was apparently a knowledgeable woodsman, living off the land for many years, supplemented by some occasional supplies brought by his nephew and handouts from the hunters. Occasionally, you might see him out walking and could carry on somewhat of a normal conversation with him. I say somewhat because you could hardly understand him. Perhaps because living in the woods, he never practiced the language, perhaps because of a disability. At first, he occasionally would break in to the hunting cabins for shelter. But after the hunters realized nothing ever came up missing, they just left them unlocked, knowing he would watch over them and deserved a safer place to stay in the harsher weather conditions.

The only negative experience I ever personally had with him happened a year or two after he first became homeless and I was helping my brother-in-law harvest hay on his old family property. He approached us with a rifle in hand and was yelling at us to get off his property. After he cocked the gun several times, we realized it was empty and explained to him that we had permission from the current owner. He eventually ambled away and we went about our business. I heard that the Sheriff’s Department eventually took away any guns he owned. I know my parents talked to authorities about his welfare but the bureaucracy had no options to offer at the time and because he was believed to be harmless, he was allowed to continue to stay on our property.

His cabin had no electricity or water. Just a single room with a dirt floor with a leaky roof and drafty walls. Over the years, he modernized it somewhat, adding a wood stove, and eventually a gas powered electric generator. That led to his demise. One winter’s day in the early nineties, he apparently was fueling his generator and a spark from his makeshift wood stove caused an explosion and fire. He was killed and the shack burned to the ground and burned itself out in the deep snow surrounding the cabin. Because it was in a secluded location, it was not discovered for several days when his nephew went to deliver him some supplies. The remains of the cabin and contents and signs of the fire remain to this day.

Multiflora Rose

I guess I didn’t realize how much of another problem shrub I had in the valley until they were all in bloom last weekend. All the shrubs with white blooms are multiflora rose.

Much like the autumn olive and the honeysuckle shrubs, these were initially introduced with the best of intentions. From the US Fish and Wildlife Service: “Multiflora rose was introduced to the eastern United States in 1866 as rootstock for ornamental roses. Beginning in the 1930s, the U.S. Soil Conservation Service promoted it for use in erosion control and as "living fences" to confine livestock. State conservation departments recommended multiflora rose as cover for wildlife. More recently, multiflora rose has been planted in highway median strips to serve as crash barriers and to reduce automobile headlight glare. Its tenacious growth habit was eventually recognized as a problem on pastures and unplowed lands, where it disrupted cattle grazing, and, more recently, as a pest of natural ecosystems. It is designated a noxious weed in several states, including Iowa, Ohio, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and West Virginia.” (New York does not see fit to have a noxious weed list at all.)

Just one of these shrubs can produce over a million seeds. While it is a great food source and cover for wildlife, they also aid in the spread of this prolific problem. What to do? Enjoy the wildlife benefits and keep brushhogging where I can.

Grading the Pond

Bob the Bulldozer (Mick Ahearn, Babcock Enterprises) came a week ago Thursday to do the finish grading on the pond, finished Friday at noon. That meant a lot of work ahead of us, after the fun of supervising the bulldozing. Friday afternoon was spent raking, honing and otherwise leveling the seed bed, then spreading the seed. I estimated about an acre of dirt, so that was a big job. I seeded it with three different kinds of clover (hopefully to attract deer) and several different kinds of perennial grasses. Of course the worst part, was picking all the stones. I couldn’t have got that done without the help of Jann, Jeff, and Drew.

Evening Entertainment

So when I am in Biscuit Hollow, no TV, dial-up internet connection, and usually by myself, what do I do for evening entertainment? In the summer, there isn't much evening left by the time daylight fades and forces the end to outdoor chores and projects. But I usually take a trip around the valley and find a quiet place to sit and watch twilight descend; enjoying the wildlife activities of that hour. Several weeks ago, you saw the evening spent with the toads. I suppose that doesn't sound all that exciting to most, but I enjoyed it.

The next weekend I was hoping to get some pictures of the "blue moon". You know, the second full moon in a month that only happens, well, only once in a "blue moon". Alas, the moon was too low on the horizon and pictures were impossible with a hill in the way and overcast skies. The significance of that evening was nothing. Really. Nothing. No wind. Nary a whisper of a breeze. No noise. No babbling brook. No nighttime birds, crickets, peepers. No cars. No stars. No lightening bugs. Nothing.

This past weekend, it was the storm. I did what every red-blooded descendent of Bob Morehouse would do when a thunderstorm rolls up the valley. Head to the front porch and settle in for some excitement. Jann had been prepping me all day for these dangerous storms that were supposed to arrive. First, it got real windy, so I headed for the top of the hill to try to get a video of the storm coming up the valley. Just wind.


Then I tried to take pictures of the lightening, but it always seemed to be behind the trees. Here are some interesting shots, especially if you click on them and view them full size. The storm never really amounted to too much and we got very little rain. But I very much enjoyed the evening entertainment.

In a Jam

The wild strawberries are ripe for the picking! It has been dry and they are small, but aren't they always?

The story as I remember it (then it must be true...) is that one summer Grandpa Morehouse and all of us Morehouse kids picked 7 bushels of these tiny berries. It's hard to imagine that's possible. But then, Grandpa was the best berry picker ever (he preferred blueberries) and there were alot of us kids. Mom said Tim was the best berry picker of us kids. Grandma Morehouse and Mom did most of the hulling but I remember having red fingers for days. According to Mom's tally, she made 48 pints of jam that summer and we ate strawberries until they were coming out our ears.

Strawberry shortcake with warm buttermilk biscuits remains my favorite dessert to this day. Then there is wild strawberries over homemade, hand-cranked, vanilla ice cream.

But, NOTHING tops Mom's homemade wild strawberry jam spread on one of Mom's buttered homemade cornmeal biscuits...........

Remember when we discovered a rattlesnake while picking strawberries across the road from the house? Grandpa dispatched the pest and treated it's mate likewise once he found it. Darned "snakes in the grass" anyways. Can't have that around his grandchildren.

Or, did anyone ever tell you about Patty getting tired while we were out picking, so she laid down and went to sleep. That was over by the new pond, where we got most of our berries that year. Of course it's not a problem taking a little nap when you are tired and you are SUPPOSED to be working, except, we couldn't find her in the tall grass!

Wildlife This Weekend 6/15/07

Friday I saw 20 deer (one fawn), one turkey, one BEAR (going in to the park), forty eleven rabbits, and a gazillion amphibians of various sorts and stages. No pictures. Sorry.

Saturday I was making too much noise around the pond and didn’t get out to view the wildlife until almost dark. I only saw 9 deer, including this “devil” of a buck up by the larch.


Sunday, I awoke to the sound of munching. It was a deer outside my bedroom window.

Harmonica

My daddy had a little cage
With music hiding inside.
Twas flat and thin, not very long,
And only one inch wide.

The music tucked inside was shy;
To get it out, you blew.
Daddy blew and out it came;
That’s how I knew.

He scooted the cage inside a box
And stored it on a shelf.
He said when I was big enough
I’d play it by myself.

Daddy whispered to the notes,
“Come out now, don’t be shy.”
The music slipped out through the holes,
A lullaby.

(Adapted) Janice Jones

I never learned. Someday I will. Thank you Dad for the memories.

Fawn

This is the only good picture of a fawn I have been able to get. We had seen a doe hanging around some brush patches by the pond for several weeks and guessed she might have a fawn hidden there. Last weekend, this baby came running across the road from the pond following it's mother.





The deer are in the summer coats now. Very reddish and pretty.





A whitetail deer behavior observation: A month ago, the deer were all running in groups. Now that fawning season is upon us, the does have sent last year's offspring packing, have isolated themselves from the rest of the deer herd, and have begun to raise their new babies, isolated, for safety sake. We have seen quite a few new fawns this spring in the valley, but almost all were single fawns. We have only seen one set of twins, and that was in Grandpa and Grandma's front yard.





I am on the road a lot and I see two seasons of the year when there are a lot of deer killed on the highways. The fall, when the deer are mating and driven mad by love. The spring, when last year's fawns have been rejected or abandoned by their mothers and despondent, they jump in front of the next car. Hey, it's a theory.

Mountain Laurel

The Mountain Laurel was not quite in bloom last weekend. Probably this coming weekend which will coincide with the Wellsboro Laurel Festival. When all the laurel is in bloom, it really is quite beautiful; the woods awash in pink bouquets. But I have been somewhat underwhelmed for many years. Is it possible that my memory fails me and there generally are very few flowers? I also have begun to wonder if there is some health issues with the laurel. As you will observe in the following pictures, there doesn't seem to be as much green foliage as there used to be.

I have re-named the rise in elevation across the road from the house from it's nondescript and boring "the hill", to Mount Laurel. It's much more representative since there is so much mountain laurel there and a city in NJ near where Jann lived was named Mount Laurel. So when we say we're going to Mount Laurel, she'll feel like she's at home....

And a story about mountain laurel. When Aunt Clemontine was getting married, she wanted to be married in the mountain laurel. For a week before the wedding, she had us clearing brush, making trails; it was hard work, sticky, and buggy. But I thought it was a neat idea so I was glad to help. It would have been a beautiful setting; the laurel in bloom, a scattering of white birch, and these big flat rocks, one which had been strategically selected as the foundation for their ceremony. But something changed her plans and after all the hard work, the ceremony was held in the Austinburg Baptist Church, 6/29/1963. They had bouquets of mountain laurel on the altar. For a seven year old kid, that just wasn't as much fun....

Here's a question. What is mountain pink? Not the variety of creeping phlox that's planted next to the driveway; there is a shrub like laurel on the hill (er, I mean, Mount Laurel) that we always called Mountain Pink. But I can find no literary references. Is it a variety of mountain laurel? I remember that it flowers a little later than mountain laurel and is quite aromatic, while what we call mountain laurel has hardly any odor. And the flowers are much more colorful, as in, well, pink.

Flowers

Jann enjoys her flowers. Or is she laughing at my stupid and obnoxious attempts to get her to smile for the camera.

In our backyard in Painted Post, we have a beautiful rose bush, loaded with blossoms. What I find interesting is that on the same bush, same stem, there are two different colors. That pink is not enhanced. It's really that hot!

Pond Dock

I put the deckboards on part of the dock this weekend, and Jann and I enjoyed a beautiful evening, with the first official dipping of the toes (the water was warm), and watching the wildlife, including a turkey that walked down to us.

Lacrosse Season Update

The lacrosse season is over. Well, the high school varsity season is over. Practice has already started for summer leagues, then there's fall ball, and then there's indoor lacrosse, and then we start all over again. Yep, pretty much a year round sport. It's that competitive.

The Corning West varsity team went on to win the Sectional Championship but then lost in the State Tournament in the quarterfinals.

A very good season.

Goose Video

Geese on the Pond

Saturday morning I snuck over to the pond to catch these pictures of some real honkers.

My Favorite Wildflowers

May 13, 1985: Wild Yellow Violets