Category: In the Field

I made two trips to Huntley Meadows Park last weekend. On Sunday, I worked with the RMV team to plant (mostly) trees and shrubs (mostly) around the new outdoor classroom, just across the entrance trail from the visitors’ center. I planted two viburnums, two beeches, a blueberry bush, and a Christmas Fern.

Saturday I got an update from park staff on the planned wetland restoration project, which has been scheduled to start construction Real Soon Now for several seasons. The new plans call for a composite design for the dam, anchored by interlocking panels of vinyl sheet piling, with riprap on the downsteam face and a gentle earthen slope on the upstream face. This idea was suggested by National Wildlife Refuge managers, who know something about engineering water impoundments. To deceive the beavers (a beaver never met a course of running water that he didn’t want to dam), the design uses Clemson water levelers to collect the water that will flow through the structure.

Soil science word of the day: it’s the lean clay layer (clay with low plasticity) lying just under the surface that is responsible for keeping the wetland a wetland. If this layer were to be disrupted, it wouldn’t matter how clever the design of the dam was.

Almost ideal weather conditions (Friday’s passing cold front with storms, Saturday’s northwest winds) set up a great weekend birding in Cape May with a group led by Mark Garland. Warbler migrants were numerous (15 species for my count, including my darling Black-throated Blue and Black-throated Green). In the afternoons, we worked the neighborhood streets around Lily Lake. An insect hatch in the elm trees caused them to “turn on,” in Mark’s words. A brilliantly yellow Prairie Warbler; a crazy weekend for Red-breasted Nuthatches (Sitta canadensis).

Falcons and accipiters were also plentiful (ID mnemonic: the tail of a Sharp-shinned Hawk is sharply cut off, while a Cooper’s tail is rounded) , and easier to see from the west side of Cape May Point than from the official watch station in Cape May State Park. A trio of Brant in Delaware Bay was a small surprise. Mark called the goldenrod thriving in this windblown habitat Beach Goldenrod (other sources call it Seaside Goldenrod) (Solidago sempervirens).

Sunday morning at Higbee Beach we were seeing half a dozen Northern Flickers at a time. Higbee runs north-south along the bay side of the peninsula. Mark explained an early-morning phenomenon that I didn’t understand the first time I visited Cape May, in 1998. As the sun comes up, a passerine (migrating by night) that finds itself over Delaware Bay takes the strategy “water! go back the way you came!” So at sunrise you will see birds flying back north over Higbee, looking for a dry spot to land.

Monarch butterflies were also in migration, a steady stream all weekend. The flicker of a butterfly was always catching my eye, making me think that I’d spotted a bird. I added Common Buckeye (Junonia coenia) to my very short butterfly list.

Everyone came scrambling to see the Say’s Phoebe (Sayornis saya) in the park east of the lighthouse. I’ve seen this bird in the west, so I got my look and then went elsewhere: there had been reports of Clay-colored Sparrow in the brush along the back of the dunes, and some of our group got a brief look, but I did not succeed.

80 species for the weekend, plus good looks at several Cape May Warblers for a life list twitch.

Mark’s suggestion paid off: Westside Market on Broadway is a good place to get a sandwich and Krimpets for lunch. If you’d like a split of wine to go with dinner (many of the restaurants are BYOB), Collier’s is the place to go.

I like the funky nouveau street name signs in Cape May City. And the hand-painted sign at my motel (a mom and pop operation now converted to a chain’s branding) was very cute.

Sunday we walked the property of VNPS Pocahontas Chapter President Catharine Tucker in Hanover County. Her 70 acres have seen little farming disturbance over the last 150 years, and hence are one of our better representatives of mesic hardwood forest in the upper Coastal Plain. The fall zone runs through Richmond, and this part of Hanover County is northeast of Richmond.

On the state road leading to her land, Catharine pointed out Red Morning-Glory, or Redstar (Ipomoea coccinea) growing in a hedge managed for butterflies. There seems to be some question as to whether Ipomoea is native to this part of the country.

Catharine effectively used the subsiding road cut to illustrate the soil profile: a sandy horizon lying atop red clays.

The bulk of the property is a Beech-Tuliptree forest, with some magnificent examples of Fagus grandifolia. Our group measured around one tree, computing a DBH of 110 cm. And with beeches come the parasitic Beechdrops (Epifagus virginiana)—plentiful here, but difficult to photograph with a point-and-shoot.

Our destination plant was Shining Clubmoss (Huperzia lucidula), found in one small clump at the base of a tree. This fern ally is kin to the more often-seen Lycopodium ground pines.

Bonus local common name: Catharine calls Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum) May Pops—although Google thinks that this name goes better with Passiflora incarnata.

For our second field trip to look at invasive non-native plants of the mid-Atlantic, Carole took us to Rachel Carson Conservation Park, a darling gem of 650 acres in northeastern Montgomery County.

Most of what Carole had to show us were success stories about the restoration of this former agricultural land. In the meadow, warm season grasses like Indian Grass (Sorghastrum nutans) have been planted and are thriving. Autumn Olive (Elaeagnus umbellata) is generally under control.

Naturally occurring Persimmon (Diospyros virginiana) (ripening fruit at right) is avoided by the deer, for some reason. Goldenrod is also making a comeback.

Unfortunately, at the forest edges, Polygonum perfoliatum is still running wild, just barely checked by the Japanese Beetles that find it as tasty as home cooking (which it is, for them). Carole is less concerned about the non-native Foxtail Grass (Setaria sp.), whose nodding heads you can see in the background above.

In the woods, we found two of my favorite plants. Spotted Wintergreen (Chimaphila maculata) was showing some fruit. I like this plant a lot, because it’s fairly easy to spot and identify. At a ridgeline, Chestnut Oaks (Quercua prinus) were in control. I like its chunky bark and its disdain for the good soils of the bottomlands.

At the end of the ridge, Carole showed us a mature American Chestnut (Castanea dentata), blighted yet nevertheless putting out flowers and fruit. It is likely to succumb eventually, but it continues to throw out suckerish regrowth.

There are patches in the woods, however, that are still works in progress. This old farmstead was ablaze with Oriental Bittersweet before Carole’s machete-wielding team attacked. Now the battle is against the sprawling Polygonum.

Heading down into the stream valley, the trails show evidence of scouring. But in a section that has been reclaimed from the big vines, Carole was able to show us Shingle Oak (Quercus imbricaria) along with its characteristic galls, formed by a cynipid wasp.

The Park’s east-west axis is the Hawlings River, which rises west of the park and flows to the Patuxent. The group spotted several little patches of Cranefly Orchis (Tipularia discolor)—in flower but long before the autumn emergence of its two-toned leaf. We looked at some additional restoration work; Carole likes to use Christmas Fern (Polystichum acrostichoides) (what a jawbreaker of a name!) because it stabilizes the soil and deer don’t like to eat it. Back in the meadow, we smelled two species of mountain mint (Pycnanthemum spp.) and a Monarda.

Bird life in the park sounded good: we heard Wood Thrush, Acadian Flycatcher, Common Yellowthroat. Eastern Bluebirds were hanging around, perhaps influenced by the nest boxes that were mounted in the meadow.

Bonus plant for the trip was the tiny Asplenium montanum, a Montgomery County rarity.

Sunday brought us back to Black Hill Regional Park, this time with Carole Bergmann in the first of two field trips to look at invasive non-indigenous plant species. We explored an area quite close to the patch where Baltimore Checkerspots are being reared. The newly-paved hard-surface Black Hill Trail, which snakes through the park property, is a mixed blessing. This hike-bike trail, much wider than the footpath it replaced, exposes more forest floor to daylight, allowing opportunists like Japanese Stiltgrass (Microstegium vimineum) to take over.

Another common invasive to be found in the park, one that I am less familiar with, is Wineberry (Rubus phoenicolasius), a tasty raspberry cousin with impossibly red drupes. It hopscotches across habitat by sending out hairy red canes that droop over and root when they touch ground.

One of the bad guys we met in Karen Molines’ spring class, Garlic Mustard (Alliaria petiolata) is all done by this time of year, leaving nothing but dry stalks.

But Mile-a-Minute, a/k/a Asiatic Tearthumb (Polygonum perfoliatum), is just coming into fruit. This annual will continue producing fruit and seeds until frost.

Even though Polygonum and Microstegium can form dense mats that choke out all diversity in the ground cover, Carole (in her capacity as botanist for the county park system) gives less management attention to sprawling and trailing species like these and more to climbing vines and shrubs like Oriental Bittersweet (Celastrus orbiculatus). These are species that can weaken and kill mature oaks and hickories and hence open up yet more gaps in the canopy. While the bittersweet is the bane of upcounty forests, in the south the big problem is Porcelainberry (Ampelopsis brevipedunculata).

Near the boat landing area, Carole showed us a meadow that had been largely restored. Most of the Autumn Olive (Elaeagnus umbellata) has been removed, and Spotted Knapweed (Centaurea stoebe), a thistle lookalike that is usually thought of as a pest of the west, is under control.

Bonus invertebrate for the trip was this Wheel Bug (Arilus cristatus) munching on a Japanese Beetle.

The Dolly Sods tract in West Virginia is special to a lot of naturalists and other fans of the outdoors. Geologically, it’s on the eastern edge of the Appalachian Plateau province, where the Ridge and Valley province gives way to it. At an elevation of about 4000 feet, it’s just west of the eastern Continental Divide, hence part of the Ohio River watershed. The nutrient-poor, poorly drained soils support plant communities of sphagnum glades, blueberry heath barrens, and grassy balds—and that means some animal specialities can be found, too. Part of the Monongahela National Forest, parts of the area received wilderness designation in 1975. Since so many others have written about it, I was overdue for my first visit to the place.

The local spruce is Picea rubens. The tall, isolated trees here show the effect of growing in an environment where the wind is always blowing from the west: there’s no foliage on that side of the tree. I found cones only at the tops of trees; fortunately, this stunted example along the Rocky Ridge Trail has matured at only six feet in height, so that I could get a snap of the cones from eye level.

Any hike when you get to walk through a big patch of Mountain Laurel (Kalmia latifolia) in bloom is a good hike.

I saw a few small blueberries coming into ripeness; heard (and briefly saw) Black-throated Green Warbler (Dendroica virens) (actually, what I saw mght have been a Townsend’s); found lots of a cinquefoil that Wikipedia identifies as Three-toothed Cinquefoil (Sibbaldiopsis tridentata). As I walked on, I saw more laurel, more blueberries, more cinquefoil—a typical pattern of lower diversity under these extreme conditions.

The most common butterfly that I saw is dependent on blueberries. This Pink-edged Sulphur (Colias interior) found my gear an irresistible place to hang out for a while. And perhaps to spread some hormones about; I suspect this is a female, because a more strongly patterned male was pestering her.

The Bear Rocks Trail is the “oh, let’s do the longer 10 mile loop” trail. Well-marked, a fun little stream to cross. The saddle you drop into before rising to meet the Raven Ridge Trail feels like walking into Brigadoon.

Even a boardwalk over the wetter patches. This trail leaves you wondering about what all the fuss is about following trails in this wilderness, and about the quality of the Forest Service’s maps.

The Rocky Ridge Trail, on the west side of the tract, isn’t so clearly marked, at least not officially. The informal cairns (not quite to Boy Scout standards) keep you on the path.

The Dobbin Grade Trail, a repurposed railroad grade, is the “dear lord, let’s just get home, OK?” trail. Poorly marked; after normal rains, there are substantial patches that are nothing but bog. Mind you, the guidebooks warn about this. The problem is that there’s nowhere for rain runoff to go, turning the sphagnum into a spongey gumbo. The trick I learned (too late) is this: if it looks wet, use your stick to find rock under it. If you don’t, you go in the goop over your boots.

And I had my opportunity to reroute my return over the Raven Ridge Trail. But I can be stubborn sometimes.

I suspect that the Forest Service is trying to exercise benign neglect on this useful trail that connects to many others. I think they would like to discourage hikers from using the track, since trail users are forced off trail and into the veg whenever a wet spot appears, disrupting the life of the bog.

A longer walk than I originally planned, seduced as I was by the easy going on the Bear Rocks Trail. There is some climbing, but I didn’t track the elevation change. 7:45 for 10.8 miles, with a generous lunch break and birding from time to time. Overreached myself a little bit, as I had nothing left in the tank for the last mile or two, and I dropped plans of further hiking for the next day.

Note for next time: I used a chain motel back in Woodstock, Va. as my base camp for this trip. It’s a 2-plus-hour drive from Woodstock to the wilderness. Next time, I’d like to try one of the smart-looking cottages along route 55 in Petersburg, rented by the Smoke Hole Resort. From there, route 28/7 and the Forest Service roads into the wilderness is just five minutes away.

Update: There’s an orphaned article by Andy Hiltz about the area that has some useful information.

Update (8 May 2024): Andy Hiltz’s article, archived.

Sunday was a near-perfect day for a field trip to the Parkers Creek section of the American Chestnut Land Trust property in Calvert County on the western shore of the bay, led by Stephanie Mason. Chesapeake Bay’s not really visible from trails on this property, but you can sense it from the end of the Turkey Spur Trail.

We had the place nearly to ourselves. For a Coastal Plain site, the walking is remarkably hilly.

It was a middling day for birds. We watched a Green Heron stalking its lunch on Parkers Creek; had good looks at Prothonotary Warbler, Scarlet Tanager, and Northern Parula; heard Ovenbird (frequently), Wood Thrush, Hooded Warbler, Worm-eating Warbler, White-eyed Vireo.

At the lunch break, a skink mistook Ethan’s trousers for an extension of the log he was sitting on.

Some nice butterflies: Spicebush Swallowtail, several Zebra Swallowtails, and two Vanessa species, an American Lady and numerous Red Admirals.

Some good flowering plants to look at: the place is covered with Virginia Waterleaf (Hydrophyllum virginianum). Stephanie explained an concept that I hadn’t latched onto before, the difference between a determinate inflorescence (the plant decides how many florets to make and it’s done) and an indeterminate inflorescence (flower ’til you drop, like we saw with Mysotis).

And some great ferns. The image of Ebony Spleenwort (Asplenium platyneuron) at the left is an attempt to show the dark brown rachis. New York Fern (Thelypteris noveboracensis), at the right, tapers to a point at both ends, like a New Yorker burning his candle. Hay-scented Fern is the other species in our area that forms large clonal colonies like New York Fern.

Stephanie made the call on this Netted Chain Fern (Woodwardia areolata), which is very similar in appearance to Senstive Fern. I need to learn to look for fertile fronds when I’m looking at ferns.

Two trips to the park not to check nest boxes (though we did check a couple), but rather to assist Kat, who is surveying crayfish activity. We went 0-18 on the smokestack traps, but negative data is still data. And the reptiles and amphibians provided some alternative entertainment.

She has been using submerged basket traps like this one, baited with an opened can of sardines. But she was interested in finding other species, ones that don’t spend all their time in the water.

This weekend’s project was to trap crayfish in their burrows. The plan was to use a bit of fine mesh, attached with string to a bit of dowelling. Insert the mesh into the burrow, wait overnight, and pull up a critter in the morning. Unfortunately, this morning we found no crayfish entangled in the mesh. Instead, we found a couple of our traps pulled completely into a burrow and out another entrance. And one trap went missing altogether. Maybe one day it will turn up incorporated into an Osprey’s nest.

Meanwhile, songbirds are actively nesting. Great-crested Flycatchers and Red-eyed Vireos were audible; a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher is nesting in full view of the boardwalk, at the first wide spot. And Prothonotary Warblers (Protonotaria citrea) are active! Nests (probably dummies) are being constructed to the right of the trail, just after the fork and before it enters the wetland.

The beavers continue to work on dams at the upper end of the wetland. The past month’s dry conditions have dropped the downstream water level; the gauge reads only 0.28 m.

On this morning’s nest box walk, we noticed a big patch of freshwater snails in the shallows off the boardwalk on the way to the observation tower, snails that we hadn’t seen even last week. I blasted the contrast in this image so that the snails are visible through the murky water.

Unfortunately, they appear to be Chinese Mystery Snails (Cipangopaludina chinensis), an invasive that is often introduced by aquarium dumping. This large snail species features an operculum, a trap door that the snail can close up to ward off drought and predators. Notice that there’s no snail sticking out of the shell in the image at the right.

Recent posts like this one from Brendan Fitzgerald suggest that this pesty algae-eating mollusk is a recent arrival in Virginia.

Some people consider the best way to deal with these intruders it to eat them.

Both of the new boxes that we mounted in mid-February are home to clutches of Hooded Merganser eggs. The crew of wildlife photographers were very grateful for the activity at new box #10, which is quite visible from the boardwalk. They tried to convince us to set up even more boxes, in racks condo-style; we politely thanked them for the suggestion.

Downstream of the observation tower along Barnyard Run, it still looks pretty brown, although the flush of maple flowers is apparent in the treetops. At the water level, duckweed is starting to green up.

I stuck around until the afternoon to join a different volunteer team, this one organized to whack away at some of the invasive alien Japanese Honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica) and Asiatic Bittersweet (Celastrus orbiculatus) that threatened to make a play for a sunny clearing. We worked in a section along the pond trail in the northwest section of the park, not accessible from the boardwalk trails but rather from the hike-bike trail with its trailhead on South Kings Highway.

We cleaned up vines in the vicinity of a stately Osage-orange (Maclura pomifera). I spent a good chunk of my time working over a patch of bittersweet that was more tenacious than Audrey II, all the while leaving the native Poison Ivy and Virginia Grape alone.