Water – Page 2 – Stone Fig

Tea Break

Several years ago my son and his wife gave me a new camp stove for Christmas. The one I had was getting old. I had used it for a good number of years, including camping on the smaller islands of the southern Outer Banks of North Carolina. It attached to the top of a small propane bottle, which also had to be packed out. Its design was lacking and I had to devise a small wind screen that attached to the sides of the burner. My water pots had a hard time coming to a boil if there was a breeze up.

I would drive down after work and launch my kayak at the ferry landing and paddle out to the island in my ancient canvas Fold-Boat. When I reached the island, I would haul the boat up and then hike two to three miles to a good camping spot.

Those miles could be long. The hike across the island was over the dunes and through soft sand, followed by a mile or more on hard packed sand. Reducing the weight of my backpack was always on my mind. Even on these short distances a light pack was a better pack. I was also carrying two days of water as there was no potable water on the island.

It was always best to carry lighter supplies. A light camp stove was a dream.

I would cook my supper on my stove and then wash up at the tide-line. I used the sand to scour everything. I also rinsed it all with boiling water.

As the sun went down, I’d boil water for a cup of coffee. But I was never satisfied with the flavor of the instant coffee I carried. It might have been easy to pack in, but its flavor left a lot to be desired. Eventually I changed over to a dark tea.

After sunset I’d lounge at the base of a sand dune and look out over the Atlantic from a deserted beach. I was usually on the island by myself.

Years later I no longer packed out for a two-night camp on the beach like I had before. There were camping trips to campgrounds in the mountains. I would reminisce about those nights on the beach, and talk about my old camp stove.

A surprise at Christmas was welcome. It was my new white gas camp stove. It reopened possibilities, and I wanted to try it out. It was a sunny day in mid-Winter when I set out for the open fields of the Virginia Piedmont. I packed my new stove and my water kettle.

Other items had changed as well. I no longer carried my water in my World War II Marine surplus canteen. Those were heavy on the hips and did not fit well with the modern packs with waist belts. I now used slim, stainless steel water bottles that fit into the sides of my backpack.

With my gear packed for a day hike, I drove out to the trailhead. After a good hour on the trail, I stopped and set up my new stove at a place where I had a bit of a view of the countryside and a view up and down the trail.

The new stove worked easily, and it had its own integral wind screen. Soon I was pouring hot tea into my cup and settling down on one of the larger rocks to enjoy the afternoon sky.

It was pleasant, and although I missed the ocean and its crashing waves, a trail through the trees with a view out onto the pastures and fields in the valley below is very nice.

I watched an American Kestrel hover and dive to catch a grasshopper. And I let my eyes close as I enjoyed the flavor of my tea as the sun set and an evening chill began to creep up the mountain.

South Works

I took this picture in the early 1970s when I worked for a friend of mine as a Cargo Surveyor in the ports around Chicago, Illinois.

It was long days and hard work. But I was able to be outside most of the time. If I was not outside, on the deck of a ship, climbing up or down the 90-foot ladders that led to and from the ship’s holds, or walking the huge outdoor storage lots confirming off-loading of the giant rolls of steel, I might be inside a steel manufacturing facility, or a cheese importer in one of the Chicago suburbs, or in a warehouse full of imported items. It didn’t matter if it was hard work; it was fun and fascinating work. The ships on which we oversaw the unloading were from nations around the world.

We were up early and on the ships watching the longshoremen and the huge cranes unloading the rolls of sheet steel, bundles of steel beams, or railroad wheels, or 40-foot containers filled with wine or cheese or beef hides or any number of amazing products that were being imported into the Chicago from around the world. These good would be transported for sale in the Chicago area or to other locations in the Midwest.

We worked while the Great Lakes were open for shipping. We worked in the heat of summer and the frigid days of early winter with ice on the decks and snow in the air. The only weather that we did not work in was the rain. When it rained the owners would close the massive steel covers over the ship’s holds so the cargo would not get wet. Steel rusts. Cardboard falls apart. Food stuffs spoil. All of this had to be taken into account as we oversaw the work and inspected the cargoes, usually working for the owners of the shipping line.

The Great Lakes are open for international ocean cargo shipping as long as the locks along the Saint Lawrence River Seaway are ice free. The locks are the portal for ocean going shipping on the Great Lakes. The locks were scheduled to close before they iced up. That was the day by which all ships that had other places to go, had to be off the Great Lakes. For example in 2019 the Locks and the Great Lakes were opened to ocean traffic on March 29, 2019. The season was closed on December 31, 2019, and ships could no longer transit out of the Great Lakes.

It can easily be imagined that the closing weeks of the season were busy weeks as no shipping company would want their cargo vessel trapped in the Great Lakes for three months while the locks are closed.

On this morning I had arrived just at sunrise. The ship we were unloading was docked near the mouth of the Calumet River. The Calumet River stretches from Lake Michigan down into the industrial areas south of Chicago. The entire length of the river was wharves and turning basins, for the ships to tie up, unload, and maneuver back out to Lake Michigan. To the west the Calumet River joins the Des Plaines River via the Cal-Sag (Calumet-Saganashkee Channel) Canal, which carried barges from the Mississippi into this same maze of wharves in the industrial area.

I could not be further from the forests surrounding Chicago than standing on the deck of that ship on the Calumet River. When I turned to the North and looked to the other bank of the river, I could see the decrepit US Steel South Works. Its furnaces and mills were shut down, but the steel assets still stood against the rising sun of that morning.

It was odd, this behemoth of American industry shut down due to foreign competition from more modern facilities in Asia and in Europe, and the products of those foreign mills traveled to their buyers by landing on the wharves and docks along the Calumet River, and by first passing the US Steel South Works, the ancient and ruined guardian of the Lake shore.

The wind was blowing from the North. As it blew across the old South Works, it picked up dust and particles of steel. I could see the flecks of metal catching a glint of the morning sun as they floated in the air around me while I stood watching the cargo being unloaded on that cold winter morning.

Boats and Clouds

Several decades ago I had an opportunity to go to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR). I saw places that I had not seen before, and I talked to people about all types of things. I was even asked if I had any Blue Jeans to sell. It was funny. The guy who asked me that was an American who at that time was working for the CIA. Now I think he is in jail.

We were there for three weeks and started in Moscow and the area around it. I was profoundly moved by the World War II memorials. The USSR lost more than 20 million people, some died in internal struggles, others died fighting the Nazis.

As part of the trip we also traveled out to Odessa in the Ukraine and then north to Lithuania. Both were part of the USSR at that time. Lithuania became an independent republic in 1990, heralding the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Ukraine followed and became independent in 1991.

Lithuania is a truly beautiful place. We stayed in the city of Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania. The country’s northern climate supports vast forest of conifers and hardwoods. These forests include Larch, Spruce, Birch, and Aspen. The geography supports many stream and lakes, many of which flow north towards the Baltic Sea. It was Fall when we were there, so it was too cold for swimming. And even in summer, I can say from experience, the Baltic Sea is cold on the best of days.

One day we traveled out from Vilnius and visited the Lake area near the historic town of Trakai. The lake shores were ablaze with late Fall color. The Latitude of Trakai (54^o37’N) is approximately the same as the south end of Hudson Bay in Canada. We wrapped up against the Fall chill and walked out into the forest that lined the lake shore. The paths were narrow and wound back into the forest.

On the lake I had hoped we might see an over-wintering Red-necked Grebe (Podiceps grisegena). If there were any wintering birds, we did not see.

The isolation and depth of the forest assured me that in their season they are full of the songs of Lithuania’s native birds. And I was sure that the lakes teamed with ducks on their migration to the far North, or perhaps to this very spot.

There was a lake house. And there were row boats. Being fond of rowing in any season, I asked if there was time to go out onto the lake for a bit of a row. Our host apologized and said we would need to stick to our schedule. I am certain he was sorry that we did not have time. Sticking to the schedule during the times of the Soviet regime was important. I accepted it and apologized to our hosts to relieve him of the burden of not being able to allow such a small excursion.

A heavily traded commodity of the region from pre-Roman and into modern times is Amber, the fossilized resin/sap of ancient conifer trees. Amber is an organic near-gem quality stone. It has a rare warmth of color and can be polished to brilliance. Some Amber, when polished, and if clear, may be seen to contain an ancient beetle or ant. The Amber of the Baltic region is from the Eocene epoch and was deposited about 40 million years ago. Any bugs found in Baltic Amber would not have been the gadfly of the dinosaurs. Deposits of that type were laid down over 66 million years ago and are not found in the Baltic region.

In my visit to this region of frost and magical lakes I received a set of cuff links made from Amber.

The Amber of my cufflinks is clouded from the minerals and tiny air bubbles trapped in the flowing tree sap. The face of the polished Amber shows streamers of milky white. It is a cloud of ancient air and minerals trapped in a scene of golden earth tones. The outside surface of the Amber, the “rind”, is just as fascinating with its deep browns and reds from reactions of the ancient resin to the overburden soils that held the raw Amber. The rind is also deeply pitted from its burial for millions of years.

To touch Amber is to touch earth, sky, and water.

The pictures were taken by me or other members of our group and are under our personal Copyright.

Walking in the Water

When my children were younger, we went out West.

We were on a two-week holiday, and there were sights we wanted to see. We flew into Albuquerque, New Mexico and then drove in a rented car to see cliff houses at Mesa Verde, the Grand Canyon, the Virgin River, the Very Large Array, Santa Fe, and the Four Corners area. We had a full list of places we wanted to see.

When driving between our various destination, we would stop beside the road for lunch. There are often picnic shelters in scenic rest areas on the highways. We would also pull off the road at a convenient spot and make sandwiches of fresh tomatoes and bright orange cheddar cheese. They were easy to make and always delicious.

In the first week of our trip one of our destinations was Zion National Park in Utah. We wanted to hike the Virgin River. The drive into Zion National Park is magnificent. The natural rock formations and the engineering and construction of the road join to make a stunning drive down to the canyon floor. But the best was to greet us at the bottom of the canyon. We had arrived at our destination, the trail head for The Narrows of the Virgin River.

The Virgin River flows through a deep natural gorge that the River has carved out of the native sandstone over the millennia. The trail that leads up through the Narrows is the Virgin River itself. Make no mistake the footing on the large and small stones on the River’s floor is always changing, and it is slippery and challenging. When you start your hike through the waters, you are going up stream. You are hiking against the River’s flow.

Please note that the National Park Service has sets safety limits for protection of the visitors, whether seasoned hikers or children. You need to check in at the Ranger Station to confirm that the River is safe for hiking and to get advice on the distance you will want to go. We did not want to hike the ten miles (round trip) up the River to Big Spring and back. We wanted to spend about an hour in the River. The Park Rangers were able to give us good advice on how far up the River we should go.

We stepped into the River. We could feel the current gently pushing against our ankles as we started our trip upstream. We smiled at the exhilaration. Later we would be laughing out loud at the joy of moving through the current as we continued on our upstream challenge.

And I will say, the challenge is worth it. To walk ankle deep and knee deep and up-to-waist deep against the current – struggling to set your feet firmly on the rocks you cannot see under the rushing water – and to suddenly plunge into a deeper pool – it is truly exhilarating. Even a hike of 300 to 400 yards up the River is memorable. To stand with your companions holding onto them and your walking staff for stability – and looking up out of the nearly quarter mile deep gorge – and seeing the clouds overhead is wonderful. You do not see them move; you feel that you are rotating under the still, white clouds painted onto a pure blue sky high above.

As we moved upstream one of us would suddenly disappear into the water after slipping on a rock, or stepping into a hole. Then we would rise up laughing to the relief of our companions who were shocked at our disappearance as if it were miraculous, followed by an equally miraculous reappearance, laughing, as we burst up from the flowing stream.

On the way back we talked about flash floods and the impossibility of escape in our situation. This is the reason that you must know the weather happening miles up the River. Up there a sudden rain-storm can dump tons of water into the stream and change a fun and challenging hike into a thundering, roiling disaster.

The flow urged us along on our way back to the trailhead. The rocks were just as slippery, but we were use to finding our footing. Soon we were back at the trail head, and in the car, soaking wet, and laughing uproariously at our adventure.

Remember:

The River doesn’t care.
The River can be dangerous.
Check conditions with the Rangers.
Know the weather.
Know the capabilities of the people you are hiking with.
Laugh.

In researching this article I read that the River is currently contaminated with a toxic cyanobacteria. Make sure you read up on the conditions in the River before you go. It might be an amazing drive, but if you can’t hike the River it might be a long trip to disappointment. https://www.nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/toxic-cyanobacteria-bloom-in-the-virgin-river-and-the-streams-of-zion-national-park.htm

Visit the NPS site about hiking the Virgin River before you go. There is information there that will make your hike more enjoyable – and may save your life. https://www.nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/thenarrows.htm

Diving at Subic Bay

The USS Leonard F. Mason, DD-852, had left the line off the coast of VietNam, and we had brought her to Subic Bay for some repair and some recreation.

People often asked, “What do you do on the ship all day?”

We worked. We worked hard. There were watches to stand. There were repairs to be made to the ship and its equipment. There was underway refueling and resupply. And occasionally there was inflight refueling of a helicopter flying out on a rescue mission. There were orders to be fulfilled and support of our troops fighting for the freedom of people in southeast Asia and around the world.

Look at VietNam now. Through our efforts we helped ensure a better future for the people not only of the south but for all of VietNam. Do you question this? Look at the country now. It is prosperous, both North and South. And the people enjoy a level of economy and freedom that they never dreamed of under totalitarian regimes. But this came at a tragic cost including the death of 58,318 Soldiers, Airmen, Marines, and Sailors/Coast Gaard.

To the hundreds of thousands of young men and women who answered their nation’s call and went to serve on foreign shores, Thank You. You might have been scared. You might have been wounded. You might have returned to an ungrateful nation. And I am certain that you had friends who left their young lives behind. But you SERVED. You did not hide behind a Doctor’s note. You did not hide from the mail. You stepped forward and served. THANK YOU.

When the ship left the gunline for a return to port for replenishment and repairs, the ship’s crew also had a chance for liberty and relaxation.

There were many things to do off base at Subic Bay. One thing that many of us we enjoyed was the beauty of this part of the Philippine Islands. In particular there was an island that was used by the SEALs for training that was also open during the day for the use of its beaches. It is now called (on Google Earth) Grande Island. I am sure it had another name back then. And there was no resort hotel as there is today.

We hiked across to the south side of the island, facing out to the wide Pacific, there was a small beach of rocks, and clear water, and a deep hole or two that was marvelous for snorkeling.

The water was crystal clear and alive with fish. Periodically we would have the hair stand up on the back of our necks when we would see a Black-tipped Reef Shark watching us. And maybe there would be two of them.

We watched out for each other. It is always good to be cautious.

There were deep holes for diving. And for as long as we could hold our breath, we could have some good bottom time at around 30 feet, marveling at the fish which fed in the corals.

As we came up out of this blue-zone, the colors of the corals and fish became more vibrant. The sea water muted the colors, as it absorbed much of the sunlight. However, while restricting colors in the red, orange, and yellow wavelengths, sea water allowed the passage of blue light.

From above the water these holes might look like they are lined with blue-black rock. It is only when you are in the water, that you can clearly see the coral formations with its varying colors and shades. Only then can you see the multitudes of marine life feeding and minding their own business until they become lunch for another species of marine life that is only doing its business. When you look down into the corals as you float on the surface and peer through your face mask, the web of life of this tiny spot on a Pacific shore becomes visible. And you cannot leave unchanged.

On our hike back to the boat landing we talked about what we had seen. We talked about home and friends. We talked about when we might get home. And sometimes we might have to push off the jacks who had too much beer or too much war. And then we returned to the grey, steel hull that was our temporary home, for another watch.

Later, and much later, we remember the fish, and the sharks, and the sea-child’s teddy we saw on the side of the deep hole on the shores of the Pacific.

A good article on the absorption of light by seawater may be found in the Woods Hole magazine oceanus, at https://www.whoi.edu/oceanus/feature/shedding-light-on-light-in-the-ocean/

The photograph is the Black tipped Reef Shark was found on a Wikipedia article titled “Blacktip Reef Shark”, with a credit to https://www.whatsthatfish.com/image/view/6882. Note the blue coloration of the deeper corals beneath the shark, which is in dappled by the sunlight close to the surface.

Stone in the Woods

Which is it? A Stone? Or a Rock?

Was this photograph a picture of a stone, or was it a rock? I thought back to where I had seen this particular item of curiosity with distinct stratification (the lines of varying colored layers). I had been in the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia hiking one of the many the grand trails .

These trails are wonderful in all seasons. They wander up beyond the railroad tracks and the old mill, up into the ridges and valleys of these foothills. There are old stone structures deep in the woods to marvel at, and there are streams that in Summer are great for cooling one’s feet off. In Winter the trails are generally passable. But the streams are more often than not frozen over but not to support a hiker’s weight.

There are other ruins up in these hills, and graves of the men and women who pioneered this area. It is one of my favorite places to wander, especially in the Fall as the leaves are changing. The trails wander and seem to take me different places than they had before. And if its a cool day and I’m not too tired I might push for the summit which is not that high, but it sure is steep on my side. The other side? Well, that is a solid rock face and straight down.

So is this a picture of a Stone or a Rock? For me, a stone is something that I can pick up easily and fling over the water to make a splash. A Rock, for me is a different matter. There is no flinging a Rock. UMPHH! You pick it up and carry it someplace. Then you put it down. UMPHH!!!

In the space under the back porch of my house, there is a Rock that I uncovered while clearing an area to store my wheelbarrows. After I had uncovered something three feet in length and a foot in depth and realized there was no end or bottom in sight, I left it and worked around it. That is a ROCK. But I have moved Rocks before. While a boy scout, we moved a massive Rock to create a fire platform for our council campfires. That rock was as big as most of us, and probably weighed more than any three of us. That was a long, hot day. The platform looked really good when it was done. And the fires were brighter and our ceremonies better, because of our work.

While trying to determine whether my classification of Big = Rock, Small = Stone was correct, I first turned to my narrow Vest Pocket Webster Dictionary by World Publishing Company. I had bought it the early 1960s when my high school English teacher, Mr. Miles McNiff, told us that we should buy one and keep it as a ready reference in our desks. I used it, as I assume my classmates did, to confirm spelling of words I wanted to use in my essays.

Now of course this function is pretty much taken care of by our computers which highlight in red these words with which it disagrees. But I keep the small dictionary around even though its usefulness may have been taken over by the computer. I will say for this and many other items of good guidance, Thank you Mr. McNiff.

In this dictionary I found definitions for the two words, Stone and Rock. Stone is defined solid non-metallic mineral matter. Rock on the other hand is a mass or pieces of stone. Hmm, says I, (apologies to RLS), since the definition of rock includes the words “pieces of stone” as if broken or chipped away, then Stone must be more massive.

But I will disagree and stay with my understanding. A Stone might be big, or much smaller, such as a stone in my shoe. But a Rock for me is generally bigger.

Here, in the hills, I had photographed a Stone. It was barely bigger than an Oak leaf recently fallen. I saw as it lay upon a cold hill side, reflecting the filtered light from above in its beautiful, lined quartz.

I wanted to ask the Stone what had happened in each of those lines, the narrowest of which was likely thousands of years in the making. Or perhaps it was a single flooding event. But over the eons that stone was laid down and then under the pressure of many million more years, it became Rock.

Then later it was up thrust in some gigantic earth-quaking event, perhaps the lifting of the mountains to my West. And as the layers of strata became once more exposed to light, and heat, and cold, and snow and rain, and the pressure of roots and of freezing and thawing, eventually this squared Stone fell off its perch.

Crack.

It came to lay at this point surrounded by moss and ferns and fallen sticks and leaves.

Even Stones have tales to tell. But who can understand them? We can only guess.

Fire Swifts

I am fortunate. There is a stand of tall, old trees that I can see from my backyard. This year, I often go outside early in the morning to enjoy a cup of coffee and look out towards these trees. There are three in particular that stand out. On the left is an American Ash, to the middle-right there is a Tulip Poplar, and on the right, just beside the Poplar, is a Sycamore. They grow in a creek bed that runs through this small wood.

The creek meanders through its small valley. Over the years and centuries the stream has cut a bed for itself that is approximately 10 feet below the overall terrain and less than a tenth of a mile wide. Maybe at one time it was a cow pasture.

But now, since the valley is low and the stream pushes through it during rainy seasons, it has never been developed. However, because of the stream and its valley, there is a green belt of trees that snakes though my small town and out into the county. This green-way is a nature preserve. It harbors deer and foxes and other sub-urban wildlife. And it is a haven for birds that are not generally seen this far from the tree covered mountains to our West. And in the upper reaches of the trees, under the broad leaves of the Sycamore and the Polar, and beneath the delicate leaves of the Ash, there are thousands of broods of flying insects. But, the only ones that I can see are the Fireflies that flash in the evenings.

Today I am not thinking of the beauty of this small valley nor of the denizens that are concealed inside its narrow borders. Today I am thinking of a feathered visitor that arrives each year in the late Spring and early Summer while passing to the North., and again as it passes through in the Fall as it makes its way South. It is the Chimney Swift (Chaetura pelagica). These delicate birds soar through the air above me as they pass close to the tops of the trees to catch flying insects. The Chimney Swift is a common bird of North America, East of the Rockies. Some will build their nests locally, assuming they find a suitable location. Others are passing through on their way North to the limits of their range on the Canadian side of the Great Lakes of North America.

While they are here what a show they put on! From my backyard I have only a small patch of sky in which to look up, but in the mornings when I am sitting having a cup of coffee, I can see these birds sail through the air, the sun shining on their dark wings and reflecting as the birds twist and turn showing an alternating brightness on the underside and then the sooty dark upper-wing and body. It is as if their wings were hammered steel, winking flame of fire. These aerial acrobatics amaze me as the birds suddenly turn to snatch a flying insect from the air. Several sites I read state that a pair of breeding adult Swifts feeding a brood of chicks will consume upwards of 6,000 flying insect a day.

In the Fall the Swifts turn their thoughts to warmer climes and head South. In The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame’s masterpiece, Rat challenges the swallows on why they do not stay in England as the year turns away from summer. The birds reply, “Ah, Yes, the call of the South, the South. … Its songs, its hues, its radiant air.”

It is the same with the Chimney Swift. As Summer ends the birds leave the Great Lakes. They leave the Blue Ridge Mountains. They leave the Georgia shore. But where did they go? For many years no one knew where the Chimney Swifts went.

In 1943, this changed. A scientist studying the indigenous people of the forests at the headwaters of the Amazon River in Peru spotted a curious necklace on one of the people. He asked to examine it and was able to purchase it. The necklace was made of the tiny metal bands that are placed on the legs of birds to track their migration. He returned the bands to the United States Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) of the Department of the Interior. The FWS confirmed the bands had been placed on Chimney Swifts in several locations, five States (primarily Tennessee) and a Canadian province. The birds had been killed for food in Peru, and the small metal tags were strung into a necklace.

The FWS put out a press release in November 1944 that announced “The solution [has been discovered] of a centuries-old riddle of bird migration — the location of the winter home of the Chimney Swift .”

When I recently learned this I marveled at the thousands of miles these birds, which I watched over my morning coffee, had crossed. I know that they soon they will hear “the call of the South”, and they again will take their ancestral route to find “ the songs, the hues, and the radiant air” of far Southern climes.

A site of the Tennessee Wildlife Resource Agency about the Chimney Swifts. https://www.tn.gov/twra/wildlife/birds/chimney-swift.html#:~:text=The%20wintering%20range%20of%20the%20Chimney%20Swift%20was,stations%20in%20Chattanooga%2C%20Knoxville%2C%20Nashville%2C%20Clarksville%2C%20and%20Memphis.

Other sites regarding the Chimney Swift and their range and habitat include; http://www.prestonmnchamber.com/play/attractions/chimney-swift/ and http://www.chimneyswifts.org/

The FWS 1944 Press Release may be found at, https://www.fws.gov/news/Historic/NewsReleases/1944/19441112.pdf

Bug on the Water

It is Spring. The rain is a bit warmer. The days are a bit longer. The early flowers are beginning to poke their heads up in the fields and in the yards.

And out in the woods the buds are showing on the trees and bushes.

In my neighborhood the flowers have paused for a moment. The Cherry blossoms were magnificent. Even the fall of the Cherry blossoms was nice; it looked like a late snow fall. Now we are awaiting the Dogwood trees which burst open, all in the same week, throughout the neighborhood.

Back to the woods the buds and nascent leaves are showing red and green throughout the undergrowth. The Persimmon trees still have tight buds. The blackberry vines are showing buds that promise a sweet treat in late summer. The Dogwoods in the deep woods are preparing, just as the ones in our neighborhood, to burst open in all their glory.

But what of the bugs. I have seen one or two of the bright yellow Cloudless Sulphur Butterfly (Phoebis sennae) of Virginia in the fields. And while on the trail I have been passed by several large bumble bees. But its not up, but down that I want to look.

In the stream that the trail crosses and recrosses I can see small bugs, True Bugs as it turns out, darting around as they chase and follow each other. They skate on the waters surface from the edge of the bank into the slight current of the small stream. These are Water Striders, insects of the Order Hemiptera, meaning “half-wing” due to their divided fore wings. But it is their feet that are the most amazing and which give them the ability to glide on the surface of the water.

These insects spend their life first beneath and later on top of the surface of streams and ponds. They are sometimes carnivorous and prey on smaller and less agile bugs that come into their territory. And they delight us with their quick movements as they sprint across the water’s surface. This ability is due to the size of their long feet/fore legs which rest on the water. Their long legs distribute their body weight across the surface of the water and at each foot they are amply supported by the water’s surface tension. They can glide across the water’s surface without breaking through. The Water Strider’s body and legs and feet are covered in tiny hairs which trap air bubbles when in contact with water. These hairs covering the little bug’s entire body are water repellent. These hairs not only help the Water Strider to distribute their weight on the water’s surface but allow them to quickly shed any water that might splash onto their body and weigh them down.

As I stand on the edge of the bank, I watch these Water Striders dart across the surface of the stream. Their quick movements are mesmerizing as the bugs chase each other across the surface.

These are not the only insects in the streams. Right now the nymphs of the Mayfly (Order Ephemeroptera) and the Stonefly (Order Plecoptera) are beneath the water’s surface. They remain there for several years after they hatch. Then as early Summer warms the air and the water, the oldest class of these insects will emerge as adults and fly up from the surface in clouds that can easily be seen. The nymphs of these two insects are especially important indicators of the health of the streams as the insects are very susceptible to pollution. The clouds of these insects above the water are indicators of a healthy stream. And these clouds provide a tasty treat to the fish of the streams.

Below the clouds the Water Strider skates across his territory.

Wet Day with Grapes

In these days of the Corona-virus I don’t get out as much as I like to. But when I have an opportunity to get out, I usually go. Last Sunday I went out to a small National Park which has some good hiking trials. But it was so crowded that I did not even park my car. After visiting three trailheads I turned around and headed home. It’s not very far from where I live, so going out and coming back is not any trouble for me.

It was late afternoon when I went out as that is when I like to hike. When I got to the entrance road, I could see there were cars parked all along the drive. This meant that at some point in the day the main parking lot had been full. And it may have still been full. When I saw all the cars parked along the road, I knew that part of the park was more crowded than I like it. So I drove to another area in the park where there are some excellent trails. Here again the same thing. Cars and trucks parked all along the road up to the small parking area (3 spaces) at the trailhead. When I saw this, I passed it by. The third area was the same. At this area I could see down the paths that cross the mown fields, and I could see large groups that I would likely have to intermix with. That’s was my last chance, so I drove on home.

Although I was disappointed in missing my walk, I didn’t mind because I was taking charge. As Dr. Fauci has told us time and again, we are not in charge of the timetable for transmission of the COVID-19 sickness. This new virus, the novel Corona-virus, is in charge. But we can be in charge of what we do, of how we react to the presence of the virus. As he tells us the best thing we can do right now is do your best to prevent the transmission to ourselves and to others. We must follow the social distancing guidelines. We must avoid public areas as much as we can. We must protect ourselves, and thereby protect the hospital workers who we might pass on the trail or who live in our neighborhood.

But what about the grapes? Was it raining last weekend?

No, it was not raining last weekend. I took this picture of the grapes dripping water last year in late summer. I was in the same park but down by the broad creek that forms the boundary of the park.

The grapes were just beginning to grow, and so were quite small. I doubt that they would have grown to full size fruit as there are many animals and birds that enjoy the grapes, at whatever stage the fruit may be. I don’t eat them since wild grapes can be rather sour if you get them too early. And even if you wait until they are fully developed, they are still rather tart. As the grapes ripen the blue jays and other birds will fly in and sit on the thicker parts of the vine while they eat the grapes When the grapes are a bit riper, the raccoons and possums will climb up and pluck them off the vines.

Up in the woods of the Virginia foothills, I use to walk in a State Park in the Blue Ridge where there was a big grape vine there that the kids could pull themselves up on. I imagine that it was decades old. At my home in North Carolina there was an old grape vine that had been growing and hanging from a tree deep in the woods for as long as I could remember. The tree was toppled by a hurricane several years ago and the grape vine which was about 6 inches across had to be cut so the tree and its branches could be removed. I’m still hoping that the shoots I have seen on that stub will continue to grow for another 50 – 100 years.

These vines of wild grapes are all through the southern woods. They are a welcome sight as I know that the birds and the beasts enjoy them. And seeing the big vines hanging from the trees always make me smile as I think back to the first vine that I ever swung on.

But be careful; don’t grab hold of a poison ivy vine. They are in the same woods. Know what you are grabbing hold of. If the roots of the vine and where it is attached to the tree have “hair” growing out onto the tree the vine is climbing don’t touch it. Its poison ivy.

I hope we are all back in the woods soon. And please remember to always wash your hands.

I believe the grapes pictured are Riverbank Grapes (Vitis riparia).

DINO Tracks

On a recent trip to New Mexico, before we had to hustle back home, we visited an exposed dinosaur trackway in the north-east corner of the state.

For me visiting these sites is an experience in time travel as much as it is in science. The tracks at Clayton Lake State Park were made in the early Cretaceous period about 100 million years ago. At this time in Earth’s geology, the main continents that we know today had been separated from the Pangea supercontinent of 250 million years earlier and were roughly in shapes that are recognizable today. At the time the tracks were made the current continent of North America was divided by a shallow sea that ran from the Arctic area to the current Gulf of Mexico. This sea is known as the Western Interior Seaway. Its western shore ran along the eastern area of the Rocky Mountains. The western portion of the Seaway covered the states of Texas, Colorado and Wyoming as well as much of Montana, Utah, and New Mexico. Throughout the 79 million years of the Cretaceous period the seaway rose and fell, receding from and later re-covering areas of shoreline.

Along this shoreline walked the dinosaurs. They lived in what was likely a marshy area of damp soils in which their footsteps would create massive footprints that can now be seen in several areas along what was the western boundary of the Western Interior Seaway. This western boundary now contains what is called the Dakota Group of rock which was laid down by the silts of the Western Interior Seaway.

The trackway at what is now known as Clayton Lake State Park was discovered after a large rain event in 1982. The dam which forms Clayton Lake was built in the 1950s and improved in the 1970s. The dam captures the water of the Seneca Creek which is held behind the dam. The dam is 92 feet high and 150 feet long with a broad walking path on the top. This path leads to the dam’s spillway on its northern end. This is where the dinosaur footprints may be seen. When the dam was built a spillway was cut out of the adjacent hillside so that the dam would not be damaged by heavy rain events. In that type of rain event, the lake may become filled to near the crest of the dam. The adjacent spillway allows water from the lake to be channeled around the side of the dam so that it is not over-topped by the rising water. In 1987 as the water rose it flowed over the spillway in torrents large enough to carry away the layers of rock and dirt that overlay the bottom of the spillway.

I imagine that I can see that storm and the rising water in the lake. The overflow from the lake flows across the spillway, cutting away material above the dinosaur footprints and exposing them. Now as I look out, I can see the herd of dinosaurs moving up the shore of the lake. Large hadrosaurs, believed to have been Iguanodons, slowly walk past me moving north along the shore of the Western Interior Seaway. They browse on the vegetation that grows along the shore . Some splash out into the shallows of the water to eat the submerged vegetation that grows there. A baby Iguanodon scurries past me looking around for its parent. As it passes, a crocodile, swims up through the shallows looking for a meal, perhaps something about the size of the small Iguanodon that just passed. The crocodile is too small to be a threat to the adults, but it is large enough so that as it lies in the shallows, watching, the adult Iguanodons move around it. As I stand watching, the beasts in the herd flow around me, large bulls, adolescents, females, and scurrying so as not to be stepped on a number of the baby Iguanodons. They move past me on their way up the shore of the vast inland seaway.

In the failing light of the day they continue their trek. I can barely see them through the mist and slight rain that seems to continually fall. Suddenly, ahead, I hear excited chirps and calls from the herd. A great roar is heard ,and the Iguanodons can be heard splashing in the shallows as they surge into the lake. A carnivore, a meat eater, known now as an Acrocanthosaurus, can be seen coming out of the taller vegetation farther from the shore, and moving slowly towards the herd. It moves north following the herd of herbivores, plant eaters. Soon the herd and the stalker disappear into the mists and failing light.

I find myself still standing on the walkway that surrounds the dinosaur footprints, looking down the footprint left by the Acrocanthosaurus. I am back in the present. I look out across the arena where these creatures walked over 100 million years ago.

Pictures of these dinosaurs may be found at; Acrocanthosaurus at http://www.emnrd.state.nm.us/SPD/claytonlakestatepark.html and Iguanodons at https://www.newdinosaurs.com/131_iguanodon_raul_martin/

Information on the New Mexico Clayton Lake State park may be found at http://www.emnrd.state.nm.us/SPD/claytonlakestatepark.html , https://geoinfo.nmt.edu/tour/state/clayton_lake/home.html , and https://ucmp.berkeley.edu/mesozoic/cretaceous/clayton.html .