An Afternoon Hiking & Meeting Henry

“If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy, if a blade of grass springing up in the fields has power to move you, if the simple things of nature have a message that you understand, rejoice, for your soul is alive.” ~Eleonora Duse

It was forecasted to be a beautiful day, so I got up early, put my hair in a ponytail, laced my sneakers and headed out with my camera and tripod. I was on the trail by 8:30.

I had the whole day to myself, so I meandered along the woodland paths leisurely.

I paused for a while at the dog cemetery. There was something very sweet about this place. It was evident that these pets were cherished family members. And given recent events I could certainly relate to that.

I paused again at a little waterfall. I love the sound water makes as it trickles over the rocks and gurgles into the pool below.

While photographing the waterfall, a red-sided flat millipede caught my eye.

And so did some mating mosquitoes on the bench where I sat to take a break.

Of course I had to spend some time at the pond.

There were lots of frogs and snakes to keep me occupied (and keep me vigilant as I stepped between the weeds).

When I reached the easternmost part of the trail, the dense trees gave way to reveal a sunny sky, a glorious river breeze, and the perfect bench from which to enjoy both. I took off my shoes, removed the pony tail that was tugging on my scalp and rolled up my dampened sweats. What a perfect resting spot.

It was then that I realized my camera battery was completely drained. In my haste to get out and enjoy the day, I’d forgotten to charge it.

Well that was okay. I packed everything up and headed back up the trail. I had been here before, and I would be here again. No matter.

But then, on my way up the trail, something caught my eye!


About 9 years ago while hiking with Mandy, we spotted their rubbery eggs littering a hillside above a cove along the river. The babies had already broken free and made their way down into the reeds and seaweed below. I made a note in my journal of what we had found there at the end of June. “Next year, we’ll come back in time to see them hatch, or at least see some of them descend into the water.”

And I’ve always remembered that. Usually in August, or maybe even July I think of it. But I never remember in June, so I’ve never gotten to see them.

And now 9 years later at the beginning of June, I had stumbled upon one on the trail.

I was amazed I'd even seen him at all. He was motionless, and he was so tiny! It was the sort of thing that Mandy would have noticed. She’s the one with the eagle-eye, spotting fossils as we walk, or interesting insects, or animal bones.

I have to call her, I thought. She’s the only one who will understand both my excitement at finding him and my disappointment over the dead camera battery.

“Aww! How big is he?”

“Well, if you hold out your palm, and then curve it up into a little cup, he would fit inside the cup.”

“Awwwww!”

“I’m going to wait here a while and see if I can trick my camera into taking one more picture for me.”

“Okay, Mom, good luck!”

I did actually coax one more shot out of my camera, but the settings were all wrong and it came out completely black in the dark of the forest.

Now what?!

I had to call Mandy back. She would talk me out of this. It’s stupid, and it’s selfish… But she didn’t answer.

Am I really going to do it? I think I am. Damn it! I absolutely hate hate hate when people treat nature selfishly. I never want to disturb the wildlife. Even when I’m photographing something for a while, I’ll move on after a few shots, just so I don’t make it uncomfortable. I never want anything to be nervous, or feel threatened…

Or be removed from its natural habitat.

But there I was, taking my camera out of the camera bag and putting the little baby snapping turtle inside.

I wasn’t going to keep him, though. I was just going to bring it home, charge up my camera battery, and then bring it back. I’d been waiting nine years to see one of these things!

I was so ashamed…

Mandy was actually happy that I’d brought him home. She had really wanted to see him. We put the little baby on a plate of water while the battery was charging. It looked like he took a drink.

While we weren’t looking, he crawled off the plate and hid under the trail map.

When the battery was charged, I took the turtle outside to take a few photos in the yard. I mean, I had a baby snapping turtle! I should be able to get a decent shot of him, especially since he hardly moved at all.

I tried taking his photo in a few different places. He had such big beautiful eyes! And he stayed perfectly still. This is totally wrong. I’m using him. I have to bring him back.

After only a few snaps of the shutter, I went inside to grab the camera bag.

“You ARE going to bring him back, aren’t you Mom?”

“Of course! I just came in to get the bag.”

“You’re not thinking of keeping him, are you?”

“No. I don’t believe in keeping wild animals as pets.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I’m bringing Henry back right now.”

“Mom!!! Don’t you dare name him! Then you won’t want to bring him back!”

I was laughing. “I didn’t really name him; I’m just messing with you.”

Mandy fixed up a plastic container with some moist paper towels inside. It fit perfectly inside my camera bag so I could smuggle Henry back into the woods.

But when I went outside to get him, he was gone!

I looked everywhere. Mandy helped me. I thought instinct would direct him to travel downhill, so we focused our search on the side of the yard where it sloped into the trees along the border. The area within the trees was blanketed by an accumulation of leaves. With his instinct to hide, we were never going to find him.

After a half hour or so, we gave up and went in the house.

“I’m so mad!” I said.

“Me too,” said Mandy.

“I knew I shouldn’t have taken him. I knew it was wrong. I mean, not that he couldn’t survive here. But this isn’t where he’s supposed to be.”

Mandy and I sat in the living room and watched some television. I had promised myself I’d do nothing but fun stuff on my day off, no cleaning or yard work, but the wind was taken out of my sails. I ended up doing the dishes, clearing the counter, and gathering up all the recyclables.

With my arms full of emptied grapefruit juice bottles and a few cans, I headed out to the recycling bin, which was still outside by the street since garbage day. I set everything down so I could flip the overturned bin and fill it up.

And there was Henry hiding in the handle.

He’d walked all the way from the backyard to the end of the driveway, probably about 40 yards or so. If I hadn’t noticed him when I did, he would have crossed the road and been long gone. I couldn’t believe how far he’d traveled!

I was so happy to have found the little guy. I know I wasn’t supposed to take him, but I was definitely supposed to find him. Five minutes later we were in the car and on our way back to where Henry belonged.

But I had a dilemma. I was surprised at where I’d found Henry on the trail, because he was not near any of the streams or ponds, and the river was quite a distance away. Should I put him back exactly where I’d found him? Maybe to repay him for the ordeal I’d caused him, I’d bring him closer to the water.

I walked along the embankment of an offshoot of the river, a slow-moving inlet which was marked as a wildlife sanctuary. The bank was so steep, though. I decided to follow the trail for a ways until it dipped down near the water.

Once I’d found the perfect spot, I set down the camera bag and lifted the lid. Henry was ready to go!

I took him out and placed him under a tree.

The water was only about 5 feet away. Surely he’d find it. I decided to put a big oak leaf over him. Back at home he'd preferred to be hidden under the trail map. Maybe the leaf would make him feel safer.

I started to walk away, but I turned back. Maybe I should face him towards the water so he knows which way to go. I put him on the other side of the big tree root, facing the water. Then I put the leaf back on top of him.

Goodbye Henry. You’re a good turtle. Thanks for today. I actually felt a little sad. Mandy was right – I shouldn’t have named him.

I walked all the way back out the trail that ran along the inlet. When I got to the end, I stopped.

I wonder if he’s moved yet? I walked all the way back in. His little head was outstretched from beneath the leaf, looking in the direction of the water.

I decided I’d sit and watch his journey, feeling like a proud mama watching her child go off to kindergarten. Just wait until he finds that water!

As the tiny turtle climbed over little sticks and rocks and leaves, he occasionally tumbled and flipped over on his back, but he immediately righted himself with a quick twitch of his head. He’d pause for a bit, look around, and then resume his expedition. Finally, he reached the rocks at the edge of the water…

And then he was in. He dug his way under the seaweed and muck with his tiny clawed feet, and then his little head popped up above the water. He burrowed his way under the vegetation again, and then up came his little head, over and over. Was it possible for a little turtle to be happy? He sure seemed to be.

Good luck Henry…

“The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.” ~e.e. cummings

Landscape in Black and White

So here I am in another frenzied phase at work, and I haven’t had much time to post or visit my friends’ blogs. But when I saw the most recent challenge over at The Round Robin Photo Challenges, Black and White Landscape, I thought, “Well I can do that!”

I’ve made it a point to get out with my camera on the weekends these past few months. The fresh air does me good. I am a solo adventurer, of course, because my daughter is often off with friends and my husband works weekends.

At first it feels a little lonely as I get out of my car, gear up, and head up a trail. But in no time I am immersed in the sights and smells around me, and photographic opportunities abound. Soon I begin thinking, “It’s a good thing I’m alone because I could drive someone crazy, stopping so much to take pictures.”

Plus, I end up taking especially lengthy hikes when I’m unaccompanied. Freedom to do what I want...

Of course, my family worries about me while I’m off gallivanting. My daughter will call and check on me. My husband will call ten times as much. But why? I could run into a psycho on the street or in the mall much easier than I could out on the trail.

A recent phone call sounded something like this:

“Where are you?”

“Sam’s Point.”

“Where’s that?”

“Cragsmoor.”

“Where’s that??”

“Remember when we took that really long motorcycle ride?"

"Yeah..."

"We passed it.”

“Who are you with?”

“No one.”

“So someone could just jump out of the bushes and grab you.”

“Well that would be impossible, since I haven’t seen another human being in about 2 hours!”

(Ooops! Wrong thing to say…)

But hey, long hikes alone make for great shots. Here are a few I’ve taken recently. I think translating them into black and white gives a completely different feel…


These are from Sam's Point Preserve:

The area is home to one of the best examples of ridgetop dwarf pine barrens in the world:

From the 1920's until the 1960's, the area was home to a home to a thriving summertime industry of huckleberry pickers. Some of their shacks still remain...

Another recent excursion was to Olana, a Persian influenced home built between 1870 and 1891 by Frederic Church, a major figure in the Hudson River School of landscape painting:

Not a lengthy hike, but a lovely drive. This is a pond on the grounds...

I will be back soon with a Christmas-inspired post, and I will try to make my rounds and visit you all...

Wild Horses

It was the middle of the night, probably 2 in the morning, and Mandy was on her way to the bath house to use the restroom.

Our campsite seemed to be equidistant from the two closest bath houses, so one day I counted my steps to each one: 96 steps to the one on the left of us, 96 steps to the one on the right. But for some reason Mandy preferred the one on the left.

As I mentioned a few posts ago, the light from the full moon reflected so brilliantly off the white sand on Assateague Island that we never needed to carry flashlights. One could easily distinguish the narrow roadway, the other campsites, the bushes and the dunes no matter what time of night.

So Mandy was walking alone in the dark without a flashlight, heading for the glowing building 96 steps to the left of our campsite. The salty breeze made her blond hair billow as she walked.

She could hear the waves crashing on the other side of the dunes and the occasional sanderling flying overhead. We had never realized that these little sea birds hunt both day and night, racing toward the retreating waves to feast on tiny crustaceans and sea life left behind on the sand.

But otherwise, the night was still and very peaceful. All the campers were sleeping soundly, their bodies weary from another day in the sand, surf and sun, their campfires finally reduced to glowing red embers.

Mandy became aware of a gang heading toward her from up ahead on the roadway. They weren’t speaking, but the moonlight informed her that there were quite a few of them. Teenagers, she supposed.

She continued on in the direction of the bath house, the light from it silhouetting the silent parade as it approached and creating long shadows which now touched her feet.

Within moments she was completely surrounded. They looked her over. They nudged her, obviously curious to know who she was and why she was walking alone down the road that apparently belonged to them.

As Mandy’s eyes focused, she came to the delightful realization that she was completely encircled by a group of wild horses.

After a few more nudges and a snort or two, they were off. Their meeting was brief, but it was the sort of magical encounter that makes you smile and wonder if you’re dreaming.


****


One of my favorite memories from our first trip to Assateague five years ago was the time I woke up early to use the restroom and decided to steal a quick peak over the dunes. I’d wanted to see the beach completely uninhabited, but what I’d found was even better.

The weather had been quite hot and humid that week. And so before the campers had arisen from their tents to brew some instant coffee and shake the sand from the beach towels drying on their picnic table benches, the horses had decided to overtake the beach.

There was a herd of white horses with dark brown patches walking through the surf.

There was another mixed herd farther up the beach doing the same.

There were groups of two or three horses standing here and there, squinting in the hazy sunrise.

There was a mother standing guard as her foal rested on the sand.

And standing there with her eyes wide and her mouth agape was a fool who had gone up to the top of the dune in the early morning without her camera.

It’s hard to run in the sand. It’s even harder to run in the sand at 6am when you haven’t even sipped that cup of instant coffee yet. But there I was, running urgently yet sloppily with sandaled feet and no caffeine, back to my tent to retrieve my faithful companion of those days, my 35mm camera. I tried to rouse little Mandy, but she wouldn’t budge.

By the time I'd returned to the beach, some of the herds had moved much farther down the shoreline or back to the dunes. But I was able to capture the mother and her foal, as well as a few other groups of horses that had remained for a while longer.

This was the sort of scenario I had been hoping to duplicate on my next trip to Assateague. I was ever-vigilant, checking the view over the dunes at all times of day, and my camera was always on my shoulder.


*****

But it never happened that way on our recent trip. For some reason, the wild horses were scarce during the day.

I was able to track a few to the mosquito-infested marsh on the other side of the island and get some photos, but I didn’t see the herds like last time, and I didn’t see them on the beach.

They seemed to mainly come out at night like bands of hooligans dominating the campground. Campers carefully secured their food and hid their coolers, but the ruffians knew where to look.

In fact, a cooler with a tough latch is no match for a wild horse with his sights set on a midnight snack. We discovered this our very first night.

We awoke to the sound of whinnying, of pans crashing on our picnic table, and of incessant banging on the cooler. Even in my dazed state I knew they were focused on the cooler, the one with the latch that was on the ground next to my father’s truck. “They’re not getting into that thing,” I thought.

I thought wrong. They’d eaten all the tomatoes and all the carrots by the time my father’s girlfriend Jackie got up to investigate. Other, less desirable food was strewn around on the ground with holes ripped in the packaging by probing teeth. Henceforth, the coolers and all snacks were kept in the truck. We were much more prepared for their subsequent nighttime visits.

They were entertaining to watch though, exhibiting playful, almost frisky behavior at night. They chased each other up and down to dunes and whinnied and stole food. It looked like fun.

*****

Our time at the campground was over too soon, and we packed up and headed for Ocean City for some boardwalk time and one night in a hotel.

Of course, there was still the problem of my car's battery light. The alternator was history, and it was just a matter of time before my battery was too. Luckily, it lasted all the way to our hotel on 26th Street and died there in the parking lot.

There was an auto parts store in town and my father is handy, so it didn’t take long to get my little car working again (once we had the right tools, that is). So after some food, some shopping for school clothes, and a good night’s sleep, we were on our way… home sweet home, here we come…

But it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Being someone who drives an older-model car and accustomed to checking the gauges, I noticed that the car was running hot about an hour into the 5 ½ hour trip. Hmm, that was strange, especially since I had my oil changed and all fluids checked before setting off on this journey.

I pulled over and bought some coolant, refilled the reservoir, and set off again.

Half an hour later the gauge was almost up in the red. As it turned out, there was a leak. I found some empty jugs around the next gas station and filled them up with water – no sense wasting money on coolant that will end up on the roadway like a trail of breadcrumbs to my house. If only I could make it all the way home…

Well, I couldn’t. I made it most of the way, within an hour’s drive. Triple A got me the rest of the way there, but the whole ordeal took about 12 hours total. A flatbed towtruck lowered my car into the driveway at about 5am.

I had the old car repaired, and it will wait in the garage for Mandy’s 16th birthday. It will be fine for around town.

And as for me, I’ve got something new – brand new, with that new car smell and everything. I haven’t had a new car in 10 years, so I'm pretty excited!



I may even have to plan another road trip...

More from the Farm

As promised, here are some more of the photos I took at my brother's farm a few weeks ago...

This one is probably my favorite - looking out from one of the barns onto the fields...

Here's a few from inside the big barn featured in the last post:

The room originally used for hay is empty...

The other rooms have stuff in them, because my brother is a pack-rat with too many projects on his list, most of the projects being cars...

This is inside the silo, looking up...

And this is on top of the barn...

Like any farm, there are stray cats that my brother and his girlfriend are now feeding and taking care of. This one has chosen my brother as the center of her world...

This one has chosen his girlfriend to follow around and meow at...

Surprisingly, Pete hasn't eaten either one of them yet.

Pete absolutely loves the farm, loves running through the fields and following the tractor all day.

My mother spent most of the day riding around the property on the tractor's one fender.

A cushion has been affixed for comfort...

I got up there for a ride too...

The bench featured in the last post is a very good resting spot...

It overlooks a tiny pond...

Group shots are always fun...

I may try to go back to the farm this weekend.

It's my new favorite place :)

Photos from the back yard

As many of you know, I've been going through a tough time lately. One thing that I find very therapeutic is taking photos.

The theme this week over at Round Robin Photo Challenges was suggested by me: Back Yard Photography. When I'm feeling uninspired and don't know what to do with myself, I always know that I can take my camera out into the yard and find something to photograph.

Usually it's the critters that catch my eye...


But this past weekend, I needed to get away from the house, get out of town,
get some fresh air and clear my head. So I didn't take any photos in my backyard.

Instead, I took them in my brother's back yard.


He bought a farm in central NY a few years ago, and shame on me for not getting up there for a visit before now. He used to rent it out, but this summer he's been using it as a weekend getaway. And hey, I needed to get away... Of course, I brought the camera and had a good ol' time...


Besides, he has cooler things in his yard...


Of course, I still had my eye on the little things, like this snail in the pond...


Overall, it was an awesome day and just what I needed. I can't wait to go back.

Next post I'll share some more from my farm photo safari...