Tag: New Jersey

Winter in the Jersey Midlands: December

Article and photos by Joseph Sapia

Sapia - crescent moon over Manalapan Brook

Above the Manalapan Brook floodplain, a crescent moon waxed toward December’s Full Long Nights Moon

Sapia - Christmastime in Fair Haven

Christmastime in Fair Haven, Monmouth County

Sapia - 12.17.16 snowfall in Jamesburg Park

Snowfall of 1-1/2 inches December 17 in the Jamesburg Park Conservation Area, Middlesex County

Sapia - ice in pitch pine needles

Ice builds up on the needles of a pitch pine, Pinus rigida, the common tree of the New Jersey Pine Barrens. Here, in the Jamesburg Park Conservation Area in the Pine Barrens around Helmetta.

Sapia - Longstreet Farm cooking

Christmastime at historic Longstreet Farm, the Monmouth County Park System’s living history farm, replicating the late 1800s in Holmdel. Here, baking cookies the old-fashioned way.

Sapia - holly in Monrow Twp.

Holly in my neigbhorhood in Monroe, Middlesex County.

Joe Sapia, 60-years-old, grew up and lives in the Pine Barrens around Helmetta, where his family has resided for more than 100 years. He can be reached at Snufftin@aol.com or at P.O. Box 275, Helmetta, 08828.

Walking with the Weather Boy

Article and photos by Joseph Sapia

Sapia - Shekiro's Pond in Helmetta

Shekiro’s Pond in Helmetta

Joey Slezak grew up in South Jersey, but he has multi-generational roots in the Pine Barrens around Helmetta and has lived in his parental grandparents’s former house in Helmetta while studying at Rutgers University in New Brunswick. In his own right, Joey is a meteorology student at Rutgers, an outdoorsman, and, importantly to me in the outdoors, my go-to science guy.

I was looking forward to walking afield with him – perhaps not on as cold a day as February 18, 2015. Minus 1 degree at dawn and 9 degrees when I left my house about two hours later. But between our schedules, we had to take advantage of this opportunity, cold or not. Plus, we are woodsmen from Helmetta of tough local Polish stock. So, we plunged into the approximately 15 degrees when we finally started walking before 10 a.m.

A woodpecker hammered away. A few inches of snow covered the ground – on the surface, it was fluffy — and clung to trees.

“You could see the snow fall from the trees, these little flakes go by,” said Joey, 22-years-old at the time and working on his bachelor’s degree in meteorology.

On this day, we would spend much time in wetlands, including an Atlantic white cedar swamp being threatened by invasive phragmites.

Sapia - Looking skyward from Atlantic White Cedar Swamp

Looking skyward from the Atlantic white cedar swamp

“This is probably as secluded as you could be in these woods,” I said.

It was very quiet, until a jet airplane flew by.

“The final approach to Newark Airport comes over us,” Joey said.

Despite the cold, I was surprisingly warm.

“Once you heat up your clothes, there’s no wind to dissipate it,” Joey said. “(And) you’re dressed for it.”

I was dressed in long underwear, bottoms and tops; covered with a sweater and windbreaker jacket, all made of materials to wick sweat.

Joey pointed out hoar frost, a crystallized coating of frost. With the hoar frost, Mother Nature worked her art on any icy surface of water and on blades of vegetation.

Sapia - hoar frost on water

Sapia - hoar frost on twigs

Mother Nature’s artwork: hoar frost.

Here and there, we were in danger of breaking through the swamp ice. I went up to my shins at one point, up to my thigh at another. Joey noted how he could smell the swamp when I broke through.

As we walked, we noticed evidence of the day’s low humidity – in the clarity and blueness of the sky.

“Not a cloud in the sky (hardly), a bluebird day,” said Joey, who, now in 2017, is working on his master’s degree in atmospheric science.

As we walked a sand road, we noticed fallen trees, lying northeast to southwest.

“That’s probably coastal,” Joey said, meaning a storm out of the east, rather than in the normal flow of wind from the west.

Sapia - Joey Slezak

Joey Slezak at a treefall.

Perhaps the highlight of the day was hearing the call – a running-a-finger-along-the-teeth-of-a-comb sound — of a New Jersey chorus frog. This frog is an early caller, breeding as early as February, according to New Jersey Division of Fish and Wildlife literature.

“That sun’s getting warm,” Joey said.

By the time we ended the walk at lunchtime, the temperature was about 30.

“I had a lot of work to do, a lot of stress,” Joey said. “It felt pretty good to get out there.”

Sapia - Joey Slezak at stream

Joey Slezak at a small stream

Joe Sapia, 60-years-old, grew up and lives in the Pine Barrens around Helmetta, where his family has resided for more than 100 years. He can be reached at Snufftin@aol.com or at P.O. Box 275, Helmetta, 08828.

 

The Edge of Winter

Article and photo by Joe Mish

mish - grass prints in snow

The hand of the wind uses the delicate grass to etch its thoughts in the snow. Nature’s secrets are whispered among the wooded hills and fields for all who pause to ‘listen’.

March is the month when winter puts its house in order to depart our latitude on its tour of the earth.

Remnants of left over winter wind, swept from dark, frozen nooks and crannies, are set free to blow themselves out in the twenty days leading to the arrival of spring.

The force of the wind breathes life into tree canopies and grasses as they dance and sway to the tune of the invisible but palpable energy. There is joy expressed when those, planted in place, unable to change location, experience rhythmic movement in perfect time.

A linear mass of silver maple trees, along the river’s edge, branches tipped with red velvet buds, sway in unison, as they execute a perfect ‘wave’, encouraged on by a burst of wind which leads the cheer.

Consider that the trees and tall meadow grass have evolved to take advantage of the wind. Dispersion of seed that still cling to stems and pods are sent aloft on a later flight to give the best chance for germination than seeds dispersed months earlier.

Trees benefit from the March wind as broken, insect infested branches are excised in a manner to suggest surgical intervention to remove a cancerous limb. The wind effectively prunes tree branches to allow sunlight to penetrate the canopy and promote new leaf growth; each leaf a new solar factory to boost the tree’s nutrient supply.

The wind has a wide range of expression that arises from deep internal turmoil. Perhaps the wind offended the gods in a prideful manner that justified eternal punishment. The gods therefore made the wind invisible to all the senses except for touch, and then only when the wind moves.

The wind constantly struggles with this blow to its vanity and does its best to make its presence known by channeling other elements.

Think about the wind and the scale of expression from hurricanes and tornadoes to a gentle whisper, where the wind uses a dried stem of grass or tree branch to etch its thoughts in the snow or the side of a wood building.

A spring breeze, carrying the scent of lavender blossoms, adds another dimension to the wind’s ‘visibility’ as the wind assumes the identity of the aroma. This is an expanded statement of expression; a loophole to get around the punishment imposed by the gods. This pleases the wind.

As the wind struggles to regain its physical identity and frustration builds, snow and ice are incorporated to flesh out the wind and give it a visible form.

Sometimes the desire to be seen is so fierce, the wind driven snow and ice makes the sense of sight useless, adding to the wind’s frustration, causing it to howl louder and blow harder.

The blustery wind, complement of March’s winter legacy, eventually subsides to become the gentle breeze of spring. The edge of winter passes and tempers the winds attitude to more gentle expressions of mood.

Author Joe Mish has been running wild in New Jersey since childhood when he found ways to escape his mother’s watchful eyes. He continues to trek the swamps, rivers and thickets seeking to share, with the residents and visitors, all of the state’s natural beauty hidden within full view. To read more of his writing and view more of his gorgeous photographs visit Winter Bear Rising, his wordpress blog. Joe’s series “Nature on the Raritan, Hidden in Plain View” runs monthly as part of the LRWP “Voices of the Watershed” series. Writing and photos used with permission from the author.

February, Mid-Winter’s Better Half

Article and photos by Joe Mish

mish - juvenile myrtle warbler

A juvenile myrtle warbler searches the ice shrouded shoreline of the South Branch in late February

February is midwinter’s better half, given it is two days shorter than any other month and two days closer to spring, a virtual, ‘get out of winter free, card’. The significance of those two missing days provides a powerful psychological boost to soothe winter doldrums and seasonal affective disorder accumulating since December.

Although spring is the ‘finish line’ for surviving winter, the early days of spring are often indistinguishable from winter weather. This demonstrates that our characterization of the seasons is based more on legend than reality, especially when a lingering winter feels like an eternity.

Moving from impressionable feelings and missing days to more tangible evidence, February provides many visual clues that spring is around the corner. Its 28 days are a prelude or appetizer, stirring the emotions, building anticipation for the main event, the first day of spring.

To see visual clues we need light and light is what February delivers. In 28 short days we gain about an hour of day length, most evident to causal observers by noting the later time of sunset.

The increasing day length triggers a response in people and animals as we see the start of bird migration, courtship, flowers and tree buds.

Bird migration is one of the most colorful visual cues that winter has run its course. The milder the winter the earlier migration begins. Migration may be local, as with bluebirds or two thousand of miles away for many of the colorful warblers.

Late February usually marks the very beginnings of small bird migration north. Our rivers, streams coastlines and even interstate roadways provide linear pathways for migrating birds. The most colorful and plentiful are the myriad of warbler varieties. It is not unusual to see a bright flash of color darting along the riverside in late February despite shoreline ice and cold weather. A band of north bound travelers may find temporary shelter during a cold spell on south facing hillsides or in brush along steep river banks, protected from the wind and saturated with full sun.

Hawks are usually seen now in pairs as they bond prior to nesting. The owls hooting on cold winter nights and local bald eagles may well be incubating eggs.

mish - great horned in red tail nest

Great horned owl nesting in am old red tailed hawk nest

Muskrat, mink and fox are out and about in a courting mood. This is the time to scan fields for red fox roaming the countryside looking for mates. Love is definitely in the air.

mish - muskrat 2017

Muskrats are more often seen during their late winter early/ spring courting season

Male white-tailed deer have dropped their antlers and females are heavy with fawns as day length triggers hormonal changes to alter behavior and ensure best chances for winter survival. Now is a good time to walk the fields and woodlots to look for dropped antlers.

mish - buck series 1

mish - buck series 2mish - buck series 3

A buck has dropped one antler, the other will soon drop perhaps when it jumps a fence. A dropped antler charcterized by an irregular base. Antler buds after the antlers drop. Within a couple of months, the antlers will begin to sprout from these buds surrounded by viable tissue with a velvety appearance that readily bleeds if injured.

mish - buck series 4

The first and most consistent sign of spring for me is the blooming of snowdrops, en masse on a hillside, near where I usually launch my canoe on the South Branch. As cold as it might be, the sight of those tiny white flowers gives me inspiration, fires my energy and issues a solemn promise of the return of spring.

mish - snow drops

A patch of snow drops blooming midwinter heralds the return of spring

By February, the deep red leaf buds, on the trees that line the river, stand out against brown and gray interlaced branches. When viewed at a distance, the contrasting colors are enhanced as they take on a solid appearance as if created by long horizontal brush strokes in a painting.

A full moon will occur on February 11th to light up the night, as a compliment to the lengthening daylight, to make February a well lit marquee announcing next month’s arrival of spring.

Author Joe Mish has been running wild in New Jersey since childhood when he found ways to escape his mother’s watchful eyes. He continues to trek the swamps, rivers and thickets seeking to share, with the residents and visitors, all of the state’s natural beauty hidden within full view. To read more of his writing and view more of his gorgeous photographs visit Winter Bear Rising, his wordpress blog. Joe’s series “Nature on the Raritan, Hidden in Plain View” runs monthly as part of the LRWP “Voices of the Watershed” series. Writing and photos used with permission from the author.

Discoveries During a Quick Walk – December 2016

Photos and Article by Joseph Sapia

Sapia - A pond at Szeliga’s Orchard

A pond at Szeliga’s Orchard

On this near-to-Christmas day, I was without my Jeep, which was in the shop for most of the day for routine, but time-consuming, maintenance. Without a vehicle, I was living life by foot – walking a mile or so to lunch at the old general store in Helmetta and picking up my mail from my third-generation Post Office box next-door. The walk was to be pragramtic, rather than playful, although I chose a route skirting the woods, instead of walking the Main Road directly from my neighborhood.

After 60 years of living and about 40 years as a journalist, I should know, Be ready for what is out there, unexpected or not. As a woodsman here in the Pine Barrens around Helmetta since old enough, I should know, A walk is not simply a walk.

So, I was glad I put my camera in my pocket.

Before I even left the neighborhood, I came upon a cluster of holly, thick with leaves and holding many berries. A Christmas treat – and my first photographs.

After about three blocks, I went afield, getting on the Pipeline, then onto the freight railroad tracks. Almost immediately on the tracks, I saw a dead mouse lying on a tie between the rails . A victim of a hawk or fox or some other cause of death? I do not know, but another photograph.

As I walked the tracks north, toward Helmetta, I noticed two species of pine: pitch, with its long, swirled needles in clusters of three, along with Virginia, with short, swirling needles in clusters of two. Their green contrasted nicely against the clear, blue sky.

Sapia - Virginia pine to the left, pitch pine to the right

Virginia pine to the left, pitch pine to the right

After crossing Saw Mill Brook, I noticed a third pine in the old Szeliga’s Orchard: white, with supple needles in clusters of five. The species being easy to remember with its five needles, or W-H-I-T-E. It is not a native, here. This was probably an escape from nearby houses.

In the old orchard, I saw ground pine, or Lycopodium. Also, there was a nice little pond – I knew of the swamp, here, but did not remember this much ponding. And there was a fallen tree trunk, pecked by a woodpecker or woodpeckers.

Sapia - Ground pine at Szeliga’s Orchard

Ground pine at Szeliga’s Orchard

I got to the former worker homes of the George W. Helme Snuff Mill — which ceased production in 1993 and, this year, opened as apartments — and cut through the alley dividing them. After a visit to the Post Office and lunch at the store, I walked to Helmetta Pond.

There, I found a thin layer of ice along the shore – the temperature was now in the low 40s, but overnight it had got down to about 30. Canada geese sat in the pond on its other side by the woods. There, it was a mix of pines on the high ground, swamp hardwoods and Atlantic white cedar in the wetlands – and, it seemed, more and more invasive Phragmites reed grass.
On the way back, I took photos of ice in a ditch and Shekiro’s Pond, which had a cluster of punks, or cat-tails, dying off in the cold weather. Shekiro’s was fending off Phragmites nicely, unlike the Pond to the north and Cranberry Bog to the south.

Sapia - Shekiro’s Pond

Shekiro’s Pond

At the Bog, I spooked a great blue heron, which took off slowly in flight. But not slowly enough for me to get a photograph. I did stop nearby, though, to shoot a stand of birch on the old Shekiro homestead.

On my way home, I was treated to a ConRail locomotive pulling two hopper cars toward Jamesburg. I snapped photos of the train, glad I had the camera with me over these few hours.

Sapia - A ConRail train in Helmetta, heading toward Jamesburg

A ConRail train in Helmetta, heading toward Jamesburg

Joe Sapia, 60-years-old, grew up and lives in the Pine Barrens around Helmetta, where his family has resided for more than 100 years. He can be reached at Snufftin@aol.com or at P.O. Box 275, Helmetta, 08828.

Copyright 2016 by Joseph Sapia

Pussycat, Pussycat, Where Have You Been?

Except as noted, article and photos by Joe Mish

wbjhtiger

A Siberian tiger, out of place in modern times in New Jersey, comfortably rests on the frozen snow in sub zero temperatures, intensified by a strong northwest wind. Conditions that would turn exposed flesh beet red in an instant, didn’t phase this big cat as it appeared oblivious to the deadly weather; as if not bound by the laws of Nature.

It was a bitter cold day as Bert and I drove the Warner Bros Jungle Habitat trails to check on the open ranging wildlife that occupied the windswept mountains and valleys of the northern New Jersey wildlife park. Inside the warm Chevrolet truck, converted into a veterinary mobile unit, the heater was turned up high, while warm coffee steamed the windshield. Most animals escaped the polar wind hiding behind natural windbreaks and temporary shelters placed around the park.

As we drove past the tiger compound, near the highest point of the park, here was this tiger, a cat we affectionately named, ‘Bobtail’, lying down exposed to the full force of the wind. Bearing an ever present grin, for which the big cats are known, Bobtail appeared content, oblivious to the deadly arctic blast. He remained motionless and stared into the brutal wind that must have escaped from the 10th circle of Dante’s frozen hell, showing no signs of discomfort. He may as well have been enjoying a cool breeze on a warm summer’s day.

This image of Bobtail lying in the snow captures for me the essence of the tiger. Well documented accounts of tigers hunting humans in India, and their magical ability to make kill after kill and avoid inescapable traps, have elevated the tiger to supernatural status.

This is an animal believed to exist in the spirit world as a cunning killer with the ability to transform into flesh and bone and back again at will. The tiger has a reputation of defying natural law that limits all other living things; Bobtail was doing nothing to dispel that myth on this cold day.

The poem, “Tyger”, by William Blake, written in 1794, so well captures the visceral reaction I had to the tigers, I memorized the poem. Here are a few lines that chill my blood.

In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

And what shoulder, & what art. Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 

While here is photographic proof of a tiger living in New Jersey, an anomaly for sure, it is not hard to imagine a time when big cats stalked our land. I wondered every time I passed the tiger compound, how humans ever survived these Paleolithic predators. Perhaps it was the predators’ evolved intelligence that raised the level of human creativity in a Darwinian dance played to a deadly tune.

Evidence of saber tooth cats and jaguars, among other prehistoric creatures, were found in a limestone cave in southeastern PA near Pottstown and trace back to the cretaceous period about 100 to 66 million years ago. The cave was located in a now forgotten town named Port Kennedy, which is part of Valley Forge National Park.

journal-of-delaware-valley-paleontological-society

Evidence of sabre-tooth cats of the late cretaceous period discussed in this 1993 article. Additionally fossil remains have been found in the Cutter Clay works near Raritan Bay and along the shore across Raritan Bay in Union Beach.

NJ was unrecognizable in terms of geography and climate with glaciers terminating at the Watchung Mountains and our rivers not yet formed. The Hudson River at one time was thought to have emptied into the lower Raritan watershed at Bound Brook.

As the sea level rose and fell over the eons, it formed clay banks along the Raritan and its bay where dinosaur fossils and tracks have been found. To date, I am not aware of any prehistoric cat trackways or fossils being discovered in NJ. Though surely, when southern NJ was above water, it would be reasonable to expect prehistoric cats, whose remains were found in the Port Kennedy Cave, to have roamed our land.

In more modern times the eastern mountain lion did stalk the shores of the Raritan and in fact a bounty was offered and the last local cat killed in the Sourland Mountains in the early 19th century. Officially, the last New Jersey mountain lions were killed in the southern most counties about that same time.

Rumors of mountain lions persist in several north east states, though no hard evidence has been uncovered in NJ. Given the fact that people have been known to illegally harbor large cats in less than secure enclosures, anything is possible.

Today, New Jersey has a healthy population of bobcats, primarily in the northwest part of the state. The retreating glaciers left a boulder strewn, mountainous landscape with plenty of nooks and crannies, ideal habitat for these elusive felines. Occasionally bobcats are captured on hunters’ trail cameras to give us evidence of their presence as they are rarely ever seen even where they are plentiful.

mish-bobcat

This very rare photo of a bobcat was taken in Warren County, NJ. New Jersey has a healthy bobcat population along with other wildlife thought not to exist within our borders. This cat is really a sabre-tooth tiger distilled down to miniature with all the accumulated intelligence and instincts required for survival in any geologic iteration of New Jersey. Photo by Nancy Mayer

Still the thought of saber-tooth cats, tigers and jaguars ranging across the state becomes more than just imaginary when you see the gleam in your pet cat’s eye. It is as if the prehistoric felines have been distilled down to their essence in the form of modern day cats that dominate many of our homes.

“The Man-Eaters of Kumaon”, by Col Jim Corbett, published in 1944, deals with the man eating tigers of India in the early 20th century. Please read the last chapter, “Just Tigers” before you begin the book as it puts the tiger in perspective and talks about photography vs hunting and concern for their the conservation even at that time. The first hand account of the almost supernatural ability of tigers to avoid being killed or captured while hunting humans, reveals an intellectual battle where man doesn’t always dominate nature.

THE TYGER

By William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art. Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

1794

mish-the-mosasaur

Author Joe Mish has been running wild in New Jersey since childhood when he found ways to escape his mother’s watchful eyes. He continues to trek the swamps, rivers and thickets seeking to share, with the residents and visitors, all of the state’s natural beauty hidden within full view. To read more of his writing and view more of his gorgeous photographs visit Winter Bear Rising, his wordpress blog. Joe’s series “Nature on the Raritan, Hidden in Plain View” runs monthly as part of the LRWP “Voices of the Watershed” series. Writing and photos used with permission from the author.

The Snowy November Woods

Article and photos by Joe Mish

 

mish-wwtracksdsc-nov-2016-post

The hiker skier and the fox

passed this way on a snowy walk

The same path was taken on that day

Though each saw things a different way

 

Dawn was hardly accomplished when the charcoal sky, stirred by a strong cold wind, began to hurl sharp ice crystals against the dry fallen leaves. The High velocity ice pellets struck the forest floor to reverberate against the dry leaves and create a mesmerizing steady hum.

The expansive old woods, now under siege by the late November weather, had a logging road cut through it sometime in the past that now resembled a linear scar threading through the trees. The thick canopy of branches blocked the sunlight to prevent the cut from healing and provided an unobstructed view and silent pathway, for at least a hundred yards. Any bird or animal travelling across the woodlot could be easily seen.

From my vantage point, where the road curved around a large boulder to the straightaway before me, I paused to take in the view. The falling ice began to accumulate; it was like watching an invisible hand weave a white rug on a rough umber tinted latticework. The ice would take turns with large snowflakes as this tandem team laid down white pavement on the road. The thick canopy of branches in the surrounding woods prevented much of the falling snow from reaching the ground. The white flakes and ice crystals that fell here resembled a light scattering of powdered sugar that stood in stark contrast to the near solid white woods road.

The woods are transformed with a light snow as hidden pathways and game trails show up as white lines and the thick woods instantly fitted with clear windows into the woodland depths. Any animal previously hidden by the labyrinth of branches in the one dimensional muted background of similar color, now are exposed as dark forms against white as they pass through these previously invisible portals. The slightest movement, even at a distance, now betrays an animal’s presence as sound becomes an irrelevant turncoat.

Feeling chilled, I was about to resume my walk when a quick movement in the woods caught my eye. Like watching a silent movie in black and white, a woodland drama was about to unfold.

Some small, fast animal was running along the ground in a straight line, on a course that would take it across the woody lane. In short order it appeared in the open and I was still questioning its identity. I could now see this was clearly a bird as it looked like a pigeon, though slightly larger. It was so odd to see a bird running instead of flying and given its speed, its health did not seem compromised. The fleet footed bird was a ruffed grouse! I recalled seeing grouse feeding in the predawn light on other occasions and thinking how they resembled pigeons.

In less than 15 seconds, another larger form appeared and was clearly running along the same track as the grouse. This was a red fox!

The fox had probably gotten a glimpse of the grouse, lost sight of the bird, then picked up its scent to begin the chase. The grouse felt confident enough it could escape on the ground as the fox was in steady but lagging pursuit.

The bird would take to the air if the fox came within striking distance and barring intervention from a hungry cooper’s hawk, the grouse would enjoy the rest of the day in peace. The fox was on a foolish pursuit chasing an alert grouse. Its hunger in full argument with its experience arrived at a compromise and the chase began in deference to hunger.

I waited another few minutes and couldn’t resist trying to call the fox in. Like magic the fox came running, sat at the edge of the lane in the white snow and stared in my direction for a good minute, stood up and trotted off.

As the fox disappeared in the distant woods I again began to walk down the canopied lane enjoying the snowy woods.

The old logging road weaving through the trees scattered with snow brought the lines from poet Robert Frost to life. From “A road not taken”:

“… and looked down one (road) as far as I could, to where it bent into the overgrowth”.

Then the line from Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening:

“…to watch his woods fill with snow”……

“The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.”

Unwrap the gift of a light November snow and enjoy sights and sounds that have inspired the verse of American Poets.

Author Joe Mish has been running wild in New Jersey since childhood when he found ways to escape his mother’s watchful eyes. He continues to trek the swamps, rivers and thickets seeking to share, with the residents and visitors, all of the state’s natural beauty hidden within full view. To read more of his writing and view more of his gorgeous photographs visit Winter Bear Rising, his wordpress blog. Joe’s series “Nature on the Raritan, Hidden in Plain View” runs monthly as part of the LRWP “Voices of the Watershed” series. Writing and photos used with permission from the author.

Species of the Watershed – American Bittern

By Maya Fenyk (age 12), LRWP youth consultant and “Endangered & Threatened Species” series contributor

 

M. Fenyk - American Bittern drawing

American Bittern, by Maya Fenyk (age 12)

Hi! I am Botaurus Lentiginosis but you can call me Anthony, the American Bittern. I live in thick marshy areas that are dense with vegetation, such as wetlands or freshwater marshes. Unfortunately humans have destroyed and drained most of my natural habitat. This act alone almost diminished my population to 0 throughout the first half of the 20th century. Sadly my species faces even more threats to our survival, such as hunting. Even now in the 21st century where we have a lot of environmentalists looking out for us, there still aren’t enough protective measures in place to take us off the Endangered Species list. We are a shy bird, hard to research, and the amount of American Bitterns in New Jersey is still unknown. Scientists aren’t even sure if our population is increasing or decreasing!

Not much can be done by the ordinary citizen to help bring back our population. I would ask, though, that you don’t hunt my species, and if you see me report the sighting to an environmental agency pronto. I also have a favor to ask of the big development companies. Stop developing on wetlands and other habitats of animals! The act of developing on our homes alone severely destroys our species and others alike. But it’s not just for my sake I am saying this, wetlands are a natural barrier between water and other habitats (of animals and humans). And wetlands decrease flooding risk, which could potentially save lives.

If you saw my species regularly, which I doubt since our feathers camouflage us into the reeds of our marshy habitat, you would say we are kind of cute. We are a stocky medium-sized wading bird that is striped white and brown on our heads, neck and upper part of our body for the rest we are light brown. But watch out, even though we are shy and prefer the flight response instead of fight if we are corned we will use our yellow spear-like bill! At each stage of our life cycle we are pretty cute too. We hatch at about 24 days and stay in the nest for 2 weeks but even after we fledge we remain dependent on our mom for food and shelter for another two weeks.

Humans, don’t worry. Even though I have a spear-like bill I won’t eat you. But still, don’t approach me. My species eats small mammals, amphibians, reptiles, crustaceans, mollusks, fish, and insects. And even though I am the Lower Raritan Watershed’s resident American Bittern, my species can be found from Canada to Mexico! Thank you for reading about me today – and please make a pledge that you won’t damage my habitat further, right? Now excuse me I hear a great horned owl – I must hide! Kok-Kok-Kok. (that’s the sound of my call).

Wing Tips and Curled Yellow Leaves – Along the South Branch October 2016

Article and photos by Joe Mish

joe-with-kevlar-canoe

A yellow, curled up autumn leaf or a Kevlar canoe, both are more than capable of transporting a traveler and their imagination through the autumn scenery along the South Branch of the Raritan and reveal a glimpse of the hidden, natural world.

The early morning October sun shown through the amber hull of my Kevlar canoe to resemble a bright yellow leaf with curled up edges that fell gently upon the water’s surface. It is easy to imagine sitting in that curled leaf, high and dry, while riding the river’s swirling currents. Witness the secret world of nature that shies away from sound and movement as you silently drift downstream. The leaf provides a cloak of near invisibility as you now become a spirit on a journey through the physical world.

I set my Kevlar leaf upon the water and settled in to the sliding bucket seat with my hips and knees braced against the gunnels and held in place by the foot brace. I was now an integral part of the canoe, my slightest movement instantly transmitted to the hull. A single paddle stroke turned the bow into the current which magically spun the boat and took it downstream. A draw stroke and a shift in weight against the hull and was enough to direct my yellow leaf on a journey thru the October scenery along the South Branch.

This morning, the brilliance of autumn foliage was muted by a fine mist rising from the river. Shafts of sunlight, however, gave a preview of the colors soon to be unveiled as the mist gave way to the bright, clear fall day.

mish-mist-on-water-oct-2016

I soon spotted a pair of wood ducks nervously swimming in circles in an eddy downstream of a fallen tree. To get as near as possible for a photo, I kept the paddle in the water opposite the side of the ducks and used a figure eight movement to propel and steer the boat into position for the best camera angle.

mish-wood-ducks-on-water-oct-2016

The boat drifted quite close before the pair of woodies flew off; when disturbed, they make an unmistakable, repetitive, two tone alarm call. The fast action framed by autumn color and blue sky, was over in seconds as the echo of their calls faded in the distance.

What remained was an indelible image of these little birds gaining flight so quickly and flying full speed between the drape of overhanging branches, covered with orange leaves, and the calm reflective water of the eddy.

Though a diminutive bird, the full range of motion of its wings barely cleared the passage between the trees and water. The tip of the longest flight feather, almost imperceptibly, left marble sized imperfections in the mirrored surface with each wingbeat as the birds disappeared in the distance around the curved riverbank.

The river then straightened out to provide a wide angle perspective spreading out before me. The trees on either bank were ablaze in yellow, orange, red and scarlet, the color intensified by the position of the sun and a near cloudless sky of the brightest sky blue you can imagine. A rare white fluffy cloud, low on the horizon, stood in stark contrast against the celestial blue concentrate. To behold such a bucolic scene while riding on a magic carpet suspended on a river of energy within a kaleidoscope of color, mind and body enjoy a brief respite from thought, time and place.

Several more miles downstream, my curled yellow leaf followed a deep channel along the high, red shale riverbank that gently curved to the left. The water, here, expressed deliberate intent as its energy flowed fast, allowing me to remain almost motionless. The hydraulic backwash on either side of the narrow channel kept the boat centered with minimal intervention from my paddle.

mish-red-fox-1-oct-2016

mish-red-fox-2-oct-2016

Ahead, a red fox walked along the steep bank at the water’s edge, apparently preoccupied with maintaining its footing. The angle of my approach and wind direction helped cover my scent and sound, allowing the fox to remain undisturbed. When I felt the fox’s field of vision was momentarily diverted, I would make a forceful paddle stroke to close the distance. Unbelievably, I was able to drift up behind and to the right of the distracted fox. After several photos the fox realized it was exposed and tried to escape up and over the vertical bank. In its haste, the fox slipped and almost fell into the river. Momentarily stunned by the unexpected action and the current’s demand for immediate attention, the fox’s embarrassing moment was safe from digital publication.

As a passenger on an imaginary floating autumn leaf, carried along by the energy of moving water, the next stop could be anywhere in the world where the sweet water of the South Branch flows. I chose, however, to get off in an overgrown pasture resplendent in autumn color, my yellow leaf turning back into a Kevlar canoe and a quarter mile uphill portage for which I had to supply the energy.

Author Joe Mish has been running wild in New Jersey since childhood when he found ways to escape his mother’s watchful eyes. He continues to trek the swamps, rivers and thickets seeking to share, with the residents and visitors, all of the state’s natural beauty hidden within full view. To read more of his writing and view more of his gorgeous photographs visit Winter Bear Rising, his wordpress blog. Joe’s series “Nature on the Raritan, Hidden in Plain View” runs monthly as part of the LRWP “Voices of the Watershed” series. Writing and photos used with permission from the author.

 

The Timidity and Temerity of September

Article and photos by Joe Mish

mish - sept pic 1, 2016

The dawn of the first day of September turns a mundane view of Holland Brook into a scene of stunning beauty that vanishes in the light of day

September arrives with the gentleness of the March lamb, whose fleece is tinged with shades of orange, scarlet and yellow. This month is shepherded in by a genial sprite whose name is associated with autumn, even though 21 days out of 30, are owned by summer.

The dominant green of summer foliage and grass is now the canvas upon which colors begin to appear. The classic autumnal portraiture is prompted by the choreographed movement of the planets which direct changes of light and temperature on earth.

September imperceptibly, at first, applies a touch of persimmon to leaves of the black gum tree, found in moist upland areas of the upper Raritan watershed. That shade of orange stands out boldly against the mass of green. Its elongated leaf, larger at the base, tapering to a rounded tip, suggests a festive light, reminiscent of an old fashioned Christmas tree light bulb.

mish - sept pc 2, 2016

Perhaps using a fine squirrel tail paint brush, and confident from the first strokes of subdued orange, deep scarlet begins to appear on trees as the subtle necklaces of green Virginia creeper vines now glow a brilliant red. The necklace is the first adornment applied, before dressing in the full compliment of matching fall color later in October.

Happy with its brush stokes and color selection, September lingers in the red spectrum to color poison ivy at the base of trees to appear as a ground hugging extension of the soon to be, colorful tree tops. The poison ivy is also used to decorate unsightly stumps and dead limbs close to the ground to clean up the scene with a colorful red and orange cover cloth.

Imbued with the freedom of a bohemian artist, buoyed by success, the compound leaves and fruit of the staghorn sumac, is chosen as a progressively bold, next move. The deepest reds are mixed to produce a flat, dark maroon to saturate the trees large, upright velvety seed cones. Another blend of scarlet and bright red is mixed and applied to the long compound leafs which so easily wave in the slightest summer breeze and glow in the low sunlight when covered with early morning dew.

Taking a step back to view the perspective of its green canvas scattered with specks of color, September wants to jump ahead and fulfill October’s contract and apply full color to the landscape.

The planets and stars, however, have strict rules by which months must abide. Not to be discouraged, September discovered a way to express its soul in full color and still be true to the rules of nature.

While temperature, atmosphere and light invisibly impact the color of leaves, their physical nature allows these invisible conductors to be seen in full color in certain conditions. September would paint the atmosphere using temperature and light as its medium to transfer momentary color, making the entire landscape come alive!

The daily temperature difference that occurs during the summer to autumn seasonal transition produces heavy morning mists along waterways that is showcased in the arena of open meadows and flood plains.

Dawn along the South Branch in September can be very dramatic as the low morning sun shining thru clouds and dust particles produces constantly changing, breathtaking colors in the sky, water and lingering mists. The lighting and colors are so dramatic; the same scene is not recognizable in full daylight.

mish - sept pic 3, 2016

The ability to dabble in orange and red poison ivy and then produce an ever changing orange sky set upon a purple haze is nothing short of pure magic. Actually, it is all science, for the moment, however, magic best describes a September morning.

September was restrained from applying more color to static objects during its tenure but found a way to make God movie background scenes using the most brilliant colors of visible light, atmosphere and temperature.

Author Joe Mish has been running wild in New Jersey since childhood when he found ways to escape his mother’s watchful eyes. He continues to trek the swamps, rivers and thickets seeking to share, with the residents and visitors, all of the state’s natural beauty hidden within full view. To read more of his writing and view more of his gorgeous photographs visit Winter Bear Rising, his wordpress blog. Joe’s series “Nature on the Raritan, Hidden in Plain View” runs monthly as part of the LRWP “Voices of the Watershed” series. Writing and photos used with permission from the author.

1 7 8 9 10 11