The core part of hunting season ended in early December, and the Lyme forest settled in for a long winter. Or so one might think; the weather has been so warm, and largely snowless, that it hardly seems like winter yet. I left two cameras deployed – one at the trail over the summit, as it has been since late October, and the other in two locations, first at a trail intersection and later at a vernal pool. December’s video includes many captures of deer, as you might expect. Most exciting was a short clip of two coyotes trotting over the summit just before midnight, in early December, and a bear scampering past the summit on Christmas Day. (Isn’t he supposed to be asleep for the winter?)
Black bear, heading away from the camera.Two coyotes, just before midnight.
My wildlife cameras show a lot of activity in the forest during hunting season.
Snow fell overnight, just a little. It seemed like a fine way to mark the end of hunting season. I headed out in the early morning light, striding uphill through the woods, eager to check on my wildlife cameras. A month ago, just before hunting season, I placed the cameras in promising locations after obtaining permission from the landowner. Deer season – specifically, rifle season, when most hunters are out in the woods – ended last night. I dressed in bright orange clothing, just in case, and full of hope for what my own ‘hunt’ may have captured. Read on to find out!
Smarts Mountain – from the north and from the the south.
An obscure entrance to the Appalachian Trail offers quick access to the trail where it crosses Jacobs Brook, and climbs Eastman Ledges on its way up Mount Cube. It’s a short walk, perhaps a quarter mile along the brook and then a half mile up the A.T. to the ledges. I had not been along this section of trail since I backpacked this segment in 2012, and had not driven to this access point since before the turn of the century. I’d been eager to return, so today I visited at the end of fall foliage and the beginning of deer season. I got some great photos of the cascades along Jacobs Brook and had a nice view of Smarts Mountain.
View of Smarts Mountain from Eastman Ledges on Mount Cube.
Then I drove back to Lyme and hopped up to one of its favorite viewpoints to look back at the same mountain. Read on!
At daybreak today we woke to our first proper snowfall – with an inch of fresh snow on the ground by 7am. We’d seen snow flurries once or twice in the past week, but now we can confidently say that fall has ended and we’re entering stick season. It appears raspberry season has ended, as well!
Now that the snow has mostly disappeared from my little patch of woods – ‘my’ home forest, where I like to ramble in the early mornings when I have the opportunity – it feels like there is less to see. In the the depths of winter I can wade uphill through fluffy drifts of new-fallen snow, or crunch my way through older sun-worn snow, enjoying the fresh air and the opportunity to see (quite literally) the comings and goings of the local wildlife mapped out on the terrain in the form of their footprints through the snow. So today, as I topped the ridge on a warm spring morning, the sky as blue as ever but the leaf-covered ground as bare and brown and boring as it ever can be, I thought to myself that spring is just not nearly as interesting as winter. At least, for an untrained observer like me, not accustomed to ‘reading’ the complex groundscape of leaf and twig, stone and brush. Sure, I’ve noticed the places where the local residents scratch among the leaves in search of last year’s acorns, and I’ve examined piles of scat to discern who may have been through here – or whom they’ve eaten – but it’s much harder to see what’s going on. Then, I looked up.
You and I both know that the spring equinox arrived last Monday, but the New Hampshire weather seemed not to notice. It snowed yesterday, just a bit, and drizzled this morning. But as I looked out at the morning drizzle and 33º temperatures, I just knew it would be an all-snow event a bit higher up. So I drove to the other corner of Lyme, to those ski trails-that-shall-not-be-named, and stepped out into fresh powder.
Smarts Mountain looms beyond the pristine surface of Cummins Pond, scratched only by the tracks from a pair of early-morning skiers.Continue reading “Winter’s last gasp”
After a month of warm temperatures – often above Freezing at night, and into the 40s, 50s, during the day – and the nearby forest floor had melted nearly clear of snow, I was glad to see winter conditions finally return. We had 6″ of fresh powder snow on Thursday. Sure, it was topped by an hour or two of sleet, but the woods felt properly wintry this morning as I climbed my usual route to the hilltop, stopping only briefly to explore the fresh tracks left by the hillside residents, leaving my own track to mark the day.
At the top of the hill the morning quiet was punctuated by a busy woodpecker, hopping from tree to tree to seek his breakfast.
When we noticed in one car a cloth that had been chewed into fuzz – and in another car some snacks that had been nibbled – we realized the smallest residents of our garage were brazenly exploring the interior of our cars and decided something needed to be done. So we borrowed a small plastic trap, loaded it with cheese, placed it near the woodpile, and… bang! within a couple of hours we’d caught our first mouse.
I put the trap in the car, drove it down the road a few miles, and gently dropped the mouse off in a remote area. I returned and set the trap again.
The next morning, another mouse was shivering inside the trap. I dropped it off on the way to work.
The next morning, a third mouse, pictured above, was waiting in the trap. I dropped it off, close to the second – perhaps it will reunite with its family.
It’s not an easy time of year to relocate – being winter and all – but maybe this is better than sending our cat to spend a night in the garage!
Early this morning I headed out for my morning walk – which recently has included a steep hike up the hill behind our house, bushwhacking through the snowy forest. The sun was coming up, and as I walked across the street and entered the woods I noted a pinkish glow along the horizon to the west and north… although, with this hill to the east, the woods were still in the morning’s dim early light. I made it less than 50m into the woods, starting up the slope and thinking I might revisit the spot where I so often see fox tracks, when a barred owl swept silently past me, its talons clutching its breakfast catch. It landed on the branch of a nearby pine tree.
Darn! I had no camera with me today, although on my Tuesday outing I had carried a full complement of camera gear only to see nothing of interest. I hesitated, then ran back home to fetch my Canon R5 with its 100-500mm lens. Within five minutes I was back, and the friendly owl was still there, posing patiently. I experimented with different positions and different exposures – the light was still low – and the above photo was the result.
Noting that he was facing away from me, swiveling his head to look in my direction, I decided to walk around to the other side to perhaps capture a view from the front… but my efforts to crunch through the old snow in that direction apparently convinced him it was time to leave, and he flew off. I look forward to seeing him again someday!
Another snowstorm, on Sunday through Monday, left about 6-8″ of fresh, powdery snow across the fields and forests around us. On Monday morning I headed across the street and into the forest behind the house, as I have done so often over the years, bushwhacking up the steep hill through the woods. The forest is relatively young and open, having been logged periodically and well managed for a variety of species – pine, fir, hemlock, oak, maple, and more. I enjoy rambling through these woods, following the fading trails left by loggers, especially in winter – because the snow exposes stories of the wildlife that live here. It’s hard to see in the photo below, but the deer walked this path earlier than me, this morning.
