Beaver Pond Trail -- Winter

Welcome to the Beaver Pond Trail.  This trail takes you through low-lying boggy
areas to the beaver pond and back.    Just follow along and carry out any 
instructions you may get.  Try to
decide what you are hearing, smelling, touching, or feeling before going on to get the answer.
If you want to test yourself, or play a game with yourself or someone else, keep track of your
right answers. Ready to start?

It is a cold, windy day.  That is one of your reasons for taking a lower trail -- less wind.
You are going to do this alone.  Your ride is hudled by the fire inside the center, wrapped
around a coffee cup.  

That's fine; you enjoy being alone.  There was a time when that was
a great joy to you, experiencing solitude in the outdoors, but now it is difficult to find a 
time and a place to do so.  You give your radio a little pat.  It is security without encumbrance.
Your cane picks out the guide rope along the trail,  and you are off.  You really need the walk
today.  Things have been piling up recently, bills, doctor visits, reports at work, the house
filling up with smoke because the spark arrestor got too plugged -- lots of things.

The snow has blown in drifts across exposed portions of the trail, so you walk carefully.  
No use getting your cyber-shoes full of cyber-snow.  Many small
mammals winter and remain active in tunnels under the snow as you have read.  It is hard to
think of snow as a warming, insulating substance, but it does keep out the worst of the cold.

Almost immediately you find a branch on the snow.  Picking it up, you feel it over, risking
taking off a glove for a few moments.  Leaf scars, buds, and twigs all seem to grow opposite.
Mad-cap horse, you recite, the acronym for maple, ash, dogwood, caprifoliaciae, and horsechestnut,
the species of hardwood in which plant parts grow opposite each other.  You don't have to
worry about horsechestnuts around here, and the twigs on this feel too thick for dogwood, the
caprifoliaciae or honeysuckle family, or maples.  Which leaves ash.  You have no idea where the
branch came from, so you can't check the bark to find out if you have a white ash or a black ash, also
called brown ash.  Here this far from the bog lands, it's probably a white.

"Per-chick-o-ree" says something overhead.  American goldfinch, of course, more easily recognized
by call than by sight in their drab winter plumage.  Actually, sight is less important than
hearing in a lot of birding activities.  Large, obvious birds are best recognized by sight, but
the majority of birds are not large and obvious.  They are obscure little critters that lurk in
the foliage letting out the occasional squeak or song to let us know they are there.  A person not
tuned to the sounds of nature might think the woods are completely barren of life -- and some people
seem to so believe.

As if to underline your reflection, another little bird sounds off.  Well,
what walk in the Maine woods would be complete without a chickadee?  Now you have your first for the
day.  It is our state bird, after all.

You carry on, the path tending downward.  The bad part of that is that it means you will have to
walk upward at the end of the trail when you are more tired.

The feel along the sides of the trail tells you that you have entered a region of dense growth.  Must
be the marsh.  You reach out to find a plant sample and encounter a branch bare except for
some small, hard cones.  Ahha!  Alder.  You are in the marshy area.  It is no surprise to find
another plant in the mix.  It has buds pressed to the stem and with no obvious separations that you
can feel in the bud's covering.  Probably a willow.  What species?  Well, er, ah.  Maybe a Bebb

 You know you are right next to the beaver pond, though it is a pretty desolate place in
winter.  The beavers are in their lodge, living on food brought in before freeze-up. Beavers
eat a lot of aspen, also known as popple.  The way it smells in your stove makes you wonder how
anything could eat it.  Takes all kinds of tastes, evidently.
 But there
is something going on.  A bird.  Be thankful for birds.  This little character is getting in a
bit of early singing practice from the marsh vegetation.  Have a listen.
Yup, a song sparrow.  

You walk on past the area.  A tree arrests your cane and your attention.  It is obviously an
evergreen.  It has short, rounded needles growing singly along the branch.  A spruce.  And
if the water weren't frozen, your feet would be wet.  Which makes the tree a black spruce.

From nearby you hear another sound.  It is a short, dry 'pick' call.  Now what...  Oh, yes,
a woodpecker.  Must be a downy.  The hairy has a louder, sharper call.  They are sort of hard
to tell apart, but then they are hard to tell apart for the sighted.  The only notable differences
are that the downies are lots smaller, obvious when they're seen together, not so obvious when
you see only one bird, and have shorter beaks.  

Another sound stops you.  Back in the direction of the nature center you hear a familiar sound.
It's nice to have an easy identification after the tough woodpecker call.  This one everyone knows.  You
listen for a moment.  It must be in the open fields around the center or across the road in
the cleared area.

Soon you come to a choice point.  This is the end of the short loop of the Beaver Pond Trail.  You can head on back to the lobby where it is warm and
you can brag a bit, or you can go back to the trail heads.  Or you can continue on with
this trail.  What do you wish to do?

You've decided to continue with the Trail. It's peaceful here, and calming to the soul.

You know you are making the swing around the pond and back toward the center.  Nearby you hear
a sharp 'peek' sound.  Well, you were just thinking about the differences between downy and
hairy woodpeckers.  Now you've had one of each.

Here is another tree next to the trail.  It has bark that shreds in long vertical strings.  The branches
have leaves pressed flat against them.  Northern white-cedar, of course, another of the swamp
and bog trees of the area.

You continue on your way, pleased with having figured out the tree.  Off to the side you hear a
squeek that probably indicates a flock of feeding chickadees.  You try 'pishing' but get no response, so

Now, there's a familiar sound from ahead of you along the return trail.  Must be excited about something.  Not that
it takes a whole lot to get a bluejay excited.  They are actually pretty smart for birds, you
remember reading.  That
whole group, bluejays, crows, ravens are considered by many to be the most intelligent of
the birds.

While you are listening to the bluejay, you almost step on something else that flies from under
foot with a loud, whirring rush.  When your heart slows back down below the danger range, you
are able to reflect calmly that you have just stirred up a ruffed grouse, also called partridge
around here.

A little farther on, you find a tree in cane range beside the trail.  A quick feel of the smooth
bark leaves your hands sticky.  You feel little resin bulges in the bark, and your hands are
soon a mess.  You don't even have to look for branches.  You know they'd be evergreen with inch-long
flat needles growing singly along the twig.  A balsam fir.

Almost back to the center, you stop to grin at a familiar, cheery sound. 
It is a bit early for them to be singing, but it does make you think of spring.  You know
that there is a small robin flock that winters around the area, contrary to the popular belief
that they all fly south. 

So now you're back where you started, but a little calmer, a bit rejuvenated, and perhaps just
a bit wiser in the ways of nature.

dividing line

Created Feb 8, 2003