Goldfinch and Evening Primrose

Hi folks; I saw the first Pine Siskin in my yard, and my first on a feeder in over 20 years. Had to get Sibley out to check. This was the first I have seen outside of the one on territory on Waterrock Knob (last summer) since graduate studies at Boone in 1986.

On another track, I saw a Goldfinch on the seed head of the lone Evening Primrose that managed to flower last summer. Like many "biennial" plants, they actually flower, not the second year after the seed sprouts (this is under optimum conditions), but after the plant manages to gather enough resources to make flowering a possibility. Many species are also perennials. The past few years of drought has held them back, but a couple of years ago, the ones in my driveway managed a bumper crop of blooms, and thus seeds. In the winter, the Goldfinch covered them up, hanging sideways on the heads, and ignoring black oil seed and "Nyjer" until the Primrose seeds were all gone.

Evening Primrose would likely be a good plant for the bird and butterfly garden, plus, it looks like the host plant for at least one Lep. It is a member of the family Onagraceae, and the genus Oenothera. The one I have in my driveway is probably O. biennis, and is found all over the states of NC and SC in fields and scruffy places. It is probably pulled up by most gardeners as weeds, but if left and allowed to bloom, they grow to almost 6 feet, and make lovely blooms that start blooming late in the evening, and stay blooming until well into the next morning, probably to be pollinated by some giant Sphinx moths. After blooming, they make little cylindrical shaped seed pods about an inch or so long that split into four segments when ripe, releasing a horde of seeds, many of which stay on the seed head well into winter. If the seeds escape the Goldfinches, they fall to the ground and sprout, making a ground hugging rosette the first year, and doing the same thing in subsequent year until they gather up enough steam to flower, then one year, up comes a stem, and flowers that only show for a day, though there are over a months worth of them, sometimes more.

I would imagine that if anybody wants them in a hurry, a wildflower nursery might have them, though you can likely find them somewhere and get a bunch of seeds to take back home to plant. They are really a nice tall plant, often with red veined leaves, tall straight stems, and golden colored flowers in the early morning hours. Their only horticultural drawback is that they often get a nasty case of powdery mildew in the late summer, though it doesn't seem to slow them down any.

I know I ran on a bit, but I think these delightful plants are a perfect addition to the bird and butterfly garden, and the Goldfinch love them!

Alex

Winter reflections

Early Winter, and it is cloudy outside, giving the Mountains a misty, mysterious, brooding look. Fog hangs in the lowlands and hollows, and flights of small birds work the wood edges and hedgerows, gleaning things we don't ordinarily see. Temperature today is low 40's, and not much wind yet.

We have a new president in this country, and our sweet world may have a chance to recover from years of excesses and downright attacks. You know whose side I am on, don't you? I actually am glad, however, that the Dems don't have a filibuster proof majority; really crazy stuff will be harder to pass without a fight, like repealing the Second Amendment. That's right. I will address that later, probably losing a few more radical readers. Too bad.

Days are getting shorter here, and I try to spend more time in the field, and sometimes try to get Jake (Pug youngster) out with me. He is a great hiking companion, and really tries to help our drought stricken world by watering every tree, bush, vertical blade of grass, or even sticks that stick up... He is a precious little boy, and I love him.


I have discovered a new place to wander, near one of my old stomping grounds, not far from my grandmother's old home, a place in western Buncombe County called Sandy Mush Gameland. It is not far from the Madison County line, and is a great place to hunt if you are so inclined, as it is managed for Mourning Dove hunting, plus having a booming deer population. If you just like to go out and look, hike, or just have a day in the woods, go out on Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday or Friday from September to the end of February (hunting seasons). It is a wonderful place, and has lots of breathtaking views. It has an old timey feel, and is wild, though close to town.

This photo shows one of the many views at Sandy Mush out over a dove field, and also shows the cloudy weather of mid winter that is common here.

I have gotten into a new hobby, geocaching, which is sort of an Internet treasure hunt. In this game, people hide something in a cache somewhere, post the coordinates online, and people hunt for it using a Global Positioning System receiver, which can get you within a very few feet of the cache. I have two in Sandy Mush, and hope to have more soon. You can find out more at http://geocaching.com. It is a fun hobby, and can be gotten into with any GPS receiver, some of which are getting rather affordable. Most of my caches feature something to do with tree identification before you can find the cache, and contain at least one piece of my handmade wire jewelry or a semiprecious stone.

Get outside, folks, and enjoy Nature!

Alex

A bad dream... or reality?

Last week I had a bad dream. I dreamed I was in a local mall parking lot, and talking to someone, trying to give directions. When I turned to point at a local mountain, I saw that it was completely shorn of trees, and a nasty swirl of smoke and red clay dust was ascending to the sky. Noise of heavy equipment was pounding the air, and men were swarming over the landscape, cutting any tree left vertical, or bulldozing them under. One of my favorite mountains was cloven in two, and was being destroyed before my eyes. As I looked around, I saw a panoramic view of the hills around me, and all of them were the same way, all trees gone, and the sweet lovely mountain soil gouged down to the hard, dusty red clay. Condominiums, gated communities, golf courses, malls, and other eyesores were being built over these formerly green clad mountains I have called home for more than half a century. No bird was flying but for a few crows, black against the red of the clay and the hazy gray sky.

I awoke from this dream with a sense of foreboding, but when I went out that day, most of the mountains still had green on them. However, unfortunately, many did not. There is a mountainside near Swannanoa that is being systematically raped in the name of an "exclusive community with a golf course", rumored to be built by a famous young golfer - I used to respect him, but now have little use for him. That is, if it is true. I will attempt to reserve judgment.
Almost every day I see an TV ad by an disgusting little man with a grin of evil on his face telling how he had a whole mountain top cut to improve a view in his gated community near Hendersonville. Where you used to see mountain tops, you now see big expensive housing monstrosities. Big ugly expensive housing monstrosities.

At one time, I could look out on the mountains and see only the lovely green hills, and blank out of my vision the strip malls, gated scabs of "communities", golf courses, and raw hillsides left after building yet another rich persons whim, but after that dream I can't. It hurts, but now when I look out at the hills I see the approach of backhoes, bulldozers and earth movers. Maybe I needed that dream.

I am a poor man, and have never had much money or influence in this world. If I walked into a planning or zoning meeting and spoke, people would say "who are you?", and I would be brushed aside. I just hope someone out there who has some influence will read this blog entry and come here and help us work to stop the rapacious slaughter of the lovely Blue Ridge hills before it is too late.

Thank you;
Alex

Waterrock Knob

Suzanne, Jake (the Fawn Pug) and I went to Waterrock Knob on the Blue Ridge Parkway today. It is to my shame and chagrin that I have never been there, just passed by it when going somewhere else. We took I-40 to US 19 through Maggie Valley, up to Soco Gap, where we got on the Parkway. We then went about 8 miles north to the Waterrock Knob parking area and Visitor Center, a nice little place to learn local lore and shop for cute gifts and guide books.
On this short trip to the Knob, we were treated to a spectacle of Flame Azalea, Mountain Laurel (called "Ivy" or "Mountain Ivy" by the old folks), and Catawba Rhododendron all along the road, and in absolute full bloom. In the parking area we also saw up close the Rhododendron, something I have managed to miss the last few years.
After going into the Visitor Center, and using the facilities outside (don't go IN there!), we took off up the trail. Though the trail is only about a half mile, it is a steep half mile, and requires some stamina. I lost a good bit of stamina when I suffered an aortic dissection, a dangerous splitting of the inner aortic wall. As mine was abdominal (type B), it was not really in my best interest to have surgery, so I am a bit handicapped. We got a hundred or so yards up the trail and sat down on a well placed bench, and I started to make a "pssht" sound to attract birds. Suzanne is much better at this than I, so when she started, birds were everywhere. We saw Juncoes (of course), a Black Capped Chickadee with his ragged bib, a Chestnut Sided Warbler who sounded more like a Hooded, and what could only have been a Pine Siskin, a bird that should be on its breeding grounds in Canada, but what do I know?
Moving on up to the "pedestrian overlook", we were treated to a view that is only like the view from an airplane. The vegetation here is classic "canadian zone" or "Spruce/Fir zone", with the addition of the ever present Red Maple. It is a lovely walk, a lovely place, and a wonderful escape from the heat and humidity of the valley. Since it is over 6000 feet, it has a good many Fraser Fir, and I suspect it normally has a great deal more water; however, in our drought stricken condition, there is little water to be found. I swear I heard the maple tree sigh when Jake um, "visited" it.
On the way down, the most striking view was just downhill from the "pedestrian overlook". Suzanne, who does not do heights to well, said "we look on the same level with that peak over there". As we were looking out into the Shining Rock Wilderness (I think), and may have been looking at Cold Mountain, I said that the peak was likely about a thousand feet below us. Such is the view from there.
We didn't make it to the top. When we got to the pedestrian overlook, I was a bit worn down, Suzanne was also, and Jake, who is a good bit brachycephalic, what with being a Pug and all, was doing a rather rough kind of breathing that can scare a Pug person, so we all agreed to head back down. I have heard the view is 360 degrees from the top, and when we are all in better shape, and maybe the weather is cooler, we will all three make it there. Until then, we all enjoyed it tremendously, and I would suggest that anyone wishing to see the flowers in bloom needs to do it this week, as they will probably start fading by next weekend.

Enjoy Nature folks:
Alex

Late Spring

Well, it is technically late Spring. I view it as early Summer. As this is the "Summer of Locusts", it is a bit different, what with the hordes of Cicadas still around. Still, it is much the same as has ever been in the Southern Blue Ridge. The Mountains look sweet and inviting. You see a mountainside from a distance, and you want to be under the tall trees there, near a small mountain brook, with the coolness of the water right out of the mountain. You can probably drink with impunity, especially if the spring is near, as no pollutants or diseases can be introduced to water right out of the mountain. You can poke around the stream bank or around the spring, and possibly find Box Turtles, holed up here to escape the heat and the dry, dug in under the wet leaves and boggy soil, staying cool while the world bakes in the unseasonable heat.
Or, maybe you gaze on a high elevation meadow in the Pisgah range, and want to be there, in the tall grass, with the butterflies and bees, and maybe a small stream flowing through. Elk, who have lately been re-introduced, can maybe be seen here, especially at Cataloochie. Maybe someday they will get into the Pisgahs.
All kinds of things can be done in the world of Nature, much can be explored, and there are many places that can help you, particularly two of my favorite places in the Blue Ridge, the WNC Nature Center in Asheville, and the Pisgah Center for Wildlife Education, both wonderful places to go to learn about our Mountains. Check them out.
It is certainly time to get out, but with this crazy hot weather we have been having, I am for the high country. Let me tell you, it is nice and cool above 5000 feet!
See you later!
Alex
http://blueridgediscovery.com

Tree Tops

The twigs in the tree tops are beginning to droop, many are brown. The female Periodical Cicadas are beginning to deposit eggs. The mating is beginning to take on a fever pitch, and the sound of the males singing is almost overpowering. In a few weeks, many trees will have dead twigs drooping where the females have placed eggs. Males are starting to show up on the ground dead, their job of fertilizing a female's eggs done. The mating dance is starting to take on a extreme fervor now, with many individuals flying around trying to get mated, both male and female.
Their cousins, the Annual Cicadas will come out later, in July, during Dog Days. Here, they are called "Dry Flies", due to the dry, rasping sounds they make. Watch for them in a couple of months. You will be able to hear them, trust me. They have some of the loudest songs in the Animal Kingdom, some as loud as a jet plane taking off. They have the same sort of life cycle, just shorter, and some of them like pines and other evergreens; the Periodicals mostly like hardwoods, though I have seen a lot of them emerging under Spruce.
When the Periodical Cicadas are finally gone, and some people will be quite happy (not me!), it will be mid-summer; they will mostly be gone before the end of July. Then, of course, listen for the "Dry Flies".

Cicadas everywhere

They really are everywhere, or so it seems. In the Asheville area, the constant trill is almost mind numbing, especially around noon.
We are experiencing a phenomenon that has had people in awe for hundreds (and probably thousands) of years. The old folks, and here I mean the people who were my grandparents' age when I was growing up, called them Locusts, and said that they were the locusts of the Bible that plagued Pharaoh, when Moses was asking him to release the Jews (Children of Israel). They did not know, due to the insularity of the Mountains, that a locust is a different creature altogether; a grasshopper.
These creatures have an extraordinary life, one that extends for 17 (or 13 in some cases) years underground, and emerge all at once in a horde that totally swamps any predators, allowing most of them to feed (some say they do feed), mate, and deposit eggs in relative peace.
What makes them so terribly special to me, and almost magical (indeed, their Genus is Magicicada), is this hidden life, and I have always celebrated the emergence as a special event. I know that some folks do not (including my wife Suzanne), but I rejoice in them.
They are in all the trees here, and can be seen flitting around from tree to tree. I have heard two different songs, the "Pharaoh" trill of the species M. septendecim, and the odd ratcheting sound of what was likely a M. cassini.

My first experience of these insects was when I was 6 years old, in 1957, as I wrote in a previous post. I was unable to handle them then, as the old folks said they were "poisonous". In 1974, I handled them, and photographed them, and again in 1991. I am playing with them this year too, and even brought one in the house, and photographed it emerging, a pretty little male. You can see him in his white coloration before he turned to the orange color of full adulthood.

I am glad to have seen this emergence, and this is likely to be my last or next to last of this brood number 14 (XIV), as I am 57 years old, and have a dissected aorta. (Uh oh! ) However, I might see another in 17 years, if I am a good boy!

Enjoy, and come see them before they are gone, and the babies take another 17 years!

Blackberry Winter and "Locusts"

Blackberry Winter has been here, and thankfully, there was no frost. What is Blackberry Winter, you ask? It is that cold spell in the early part of May when the Blackberries are blooming in this part of the country. The Jet Stream is still writhing like a big old snake on hot ground due to the change over to Spring, and cold fronts march across our country like invading armies, only to be repulsed by the Summer to come. These cold fronts don't do much in most of the country, but here, in the Southern Appalachians, we feel it. The old folks said that if there were no cold and rain when the Blackberries were blooming, Blackberries would not bear. I have to agree, from observation. Curious.

On quite another note, a rather rare occurrence is taking place here, and it has me terribly excited. It has had me excited since I was a small child, and i have only seen it three times in my life, and this year makes four. A low trill fills the air, not really loud, but certainly noticeable, a trill that oddly resembles the trill of an American Toad, but only heard every seventeen years instead of every Spring. It will become a background to life for about two months, and then fade away. It is the song of the Seventeen Year Cicada, called Locusts by the old people. It is one of the largest broods, brood # XIV, and has quite a widespread occurrence. The old Mountaineers like my grandparents would tell me they are the Locust of the Bible, and even call "Phaaaraoh" (their trill is uncannily like the word Pharaoh, curiously) and since they have a synergistic emergence, they truly seem to be here in plague proportions. Since they only come out every seventeen years, and the nymphs live underground for seventeen years, they would seem something mythical, or perhaps, Biblical. There are so many of them, and the egg laying activities of the females make such an evident mark on trees, leaving dead twigs hanging everywhere, that it is understandable why folks think it is a "plague". Actually, the tree damage does no harm, and few if any die from the "damage". You can see a picture of a representative of one of the species (there are three actually) at the top of this blog; I do not have the technical expertise or the patience to move it to the middle of the page.
Older people, when I try to tell them these are NOT Locusts, will disagree, and will go into that response common to many Southerners "are you callin' me a LIAR?!". No, I am saying you are ignorant. Sorry, but that response brings out the worst in me.
It has been said that inside every tall tale is a hard kernel of fact. I have found that in some cases, it is a hard kernel of ignorance. The old people had never seen a Locust, a type of grasshopper (see Locust Photos and Wiki Locust), so obviously called them a Locust. The fact that the call, a trill that rises slightly and then falls quickly, sounding very like a trilled "Pharaoh" is the final nail. This call can be heard on the site www.magicicada.org, where they have calls of all three species liable to be out.
Another thing I was told when I was seven years old was that they are poisonous, and if they sting you, you will die, probably because the females "sting" trees, and the twigs die. Not. They are harmless, and even edible, if you are so inclined (Man vs. Wild, anyone?). I prefer to observe them, and listen to the chorus. Matter of fact, I think I will go listen to the chorus of "Phaaaroah", and see if I can handle a few.
Bye now!