Essay and photos by Joe Mish

On behalf of winter, February’s frigid embrace lingers for a conscious moment longer as this month exercises its optional twenty-ninth day. The additional day is a correction needed to synchronize derived calendars with the celestial choreography. So, in that way February provides the Wite-out corrective paste to adjust the pending error, and in its enthusiasm, covers the land with snow on occasion, to white out conditions as a failsafe.

As the cold breath of February sweeps across the land, ice and snow are left in its wake to accumulate and be redistributed by frigid winds under threatening skies. Winter offers a complete menu of frozen variants, all based on moisture du jour, altitude, wind speed and temperature.  Viscous rain drops, best described as slush, resist the conversion to flakes of snow and accumulate as sheets of crystal-clear ice on tree branches, roads, and windshields. 

A rare phenomenon known as a ghost apple, occurs when clear ice envelopes a dried shrunken apple still clinging to the tree. For all appearance the ice covered, mummified pome, is perfectly fitted with layer upon layer of clear transparent ice. The form fitted ice cover eventually accumulates to mimic a full-size apple carved in perfectly clear polished crystal. It is as if Michaelangelo was recruited to dabble in celestial ice sculpture.

As late winter daytime temperatures rise above freezing, trees begin to transport sugary sap to their fine branches. Subfreezing nighttime temps then freeze the sap to make the branches rigid and brittle. Strong wind whips the branches against each other, leaving many broken tips. When the sun warms the air, the sap begins to flow like a dripping faucet until the evening cold sets in. As daily temps fall, the drips elongate into icicles of varying length, each containing concentrated sugars, meant to energize buds and promote branch growth. Reach up, break off an icicle and enjoy a natural sugary treat that hydrates and energizes, no unwanted preservatives or added coloring. In a way, eating these cold treats, taken directly from nature’s hand, represent a communion of sort where energy is transferred and assimilated in the manner of a ‘blood brother’ ritual.

When ice is formed, snow is sure to follow. The menu choices are many when it comes to ordering snow. The spectrum of mandated choices ranges from passing flurries to blinding white out conditions. When the landscape is bare, the arrival of the first snowflake is met with great anticipation. The individual flakes are so beautiful and random, magic overcomes the rational as the source of such intricate design. The magic fades somewhat as a thick blanket of white settles upon the washed out, dull landscape. We are still compelled to stare out the window as the invisible hand of a celestial artist paints the world white as we watch.

Passing snow flurries may be the entire show or just an opening act. The snow serves as a ledger in which rarely seen wild residents use their individual mark to sign in.

Wildlife is most active at night and away from human habitation. A quick glance of the ledger’s white pages can expose the presence of a whole new world whose expanse had been previously unknown. Tracks in the snow mimic a digital tracking device, not unlike an eagle fitted with a solar powered transmitter, where its travels may be digitally overlaid on a map and viewed on a computer screen.

Note how deer were dining on the honeysuckle just under your bedroom window. See the fox tracks on the back deck. 

I always look for rabbit tracks after a snowfall of any accumulation. The question always asked is, “which way is the rabbit going”. Once you figure that out, you realize whether you unknowingly track it backward or forward, the information is the same.

So prolific are the lines of tracks, I imagine the footprints as seams, sewn to hold the expansive white blanket of snow together.

A walk in the woods after a heavy snowfall can offer a rare surprise. Once, more commonplace, ruffed grouse thrived in the mature woodlands locally. Grouse will fly into deep snow creating a tunnel where they rest under virgin snow several feet from the entry hole. Sometimes the entry hole will be covered by new snow, leaving the bird hidden under a perfectly clean blanket of unmarked snow. A hiker may pause for a long moment to marvel at the trackless expanse of snow and revel in being the first to traverse the silent woods that day. The pause in hiker’s steps will cause the grouse to think it was detected by a predator and flight is the only option to escape. Suddenly, the large brown bird explodes from under the trackless snow, steps away from the rattled hiker, the sound of wings furiously grabbing air in a shower of sparkling snow. A pounding heart can be felt once breathing resumes.

February is winter’s last full month installment, just short of full payment, and whether twenty-eight or twenty-nine days, winter loses enthusiasm and concedes the coming 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.