Category Archives: Nature

Three little bluebird nestlings arrived on Easter Sunday. They looked pink and mostly hairless, with a little bit of wet-gray down.

We caught a glimpse of mother bird before the weekend and thought she might be up to something…

This weekend I went hiking with my father-in-law, Ken, and my brother-in-law, Jackson.  Taking a day trip from Shawnna’s  grandfather’s place in West Jefferson, N.C., we traveled to Pond Mountain, a 5,000 foot mountain in a remote part of Ashe County.  Heading northwest, where the states of Tennessee, North Carolina and Virginia  converge,  we looked forward to seeing the spectacular view of three states.

Ah, Beautiful Tennova.

Thanks to the efforts of the Blue Ridge Conservancy, 1800 acres of mountaintop land  here have been preserved for future generations.

One of the most important things about the Blue Ridge Conservancy’s efforts  is the fact that the entire mountain is a major source of water.  We found several small ponds on the high ridges of the mountain, and there were numerous small springs bubbling out of the side of the mountain.  These springs  become the creeks that feed into the New River, one of the oldest rivers in the world.  The river flows south to north, just like the Nile.

Pond Mountain was  aptly named by Thomas Jefferson’s father, Peter, when he surveyed the North Carolina-Virginia border in the 1700s.   I’ve heard that Jefferson’s surveying was slightly off, extending a little bit of North Carolina further north than it should have been.  I guess that just means there is more of North Carolina to love now.

Jefferson, along with Joshua Frye, ultimately produced a famous map in 1752, The Fry-Jefferson Map of the Royal Colony of Virginia.  Highly influential, this map had serious implications for North Carolina history, as it marked for the first time The Great Wagon Road  that thousands of Germans, English and Scot-Irish would take from Pennsylvania to the Yadkin Valley.

As we started hiking up the mountain, we passed fields of  Christmas trees.  We found more near the summit, and the very top of the mountain was cleared for planting.  It made me wonder if they had a partnership with any Christmas tree farmers.  After all, this northwestern corner of the state is the Christmas tree capital of the world.

Typical of mountains in this area, we found beautiful grassy balds.

Near the summit  we found some stands of Carolina Nightshade,  whose yellow
berries were used by the Cherokee Indians for various purposes.

I’ve heard the Cherokee used the nightshade as an antihistamine, a sedative, and a pain reliever for teething babies.  I, however, was disappointed that I wasn’t looking at cherry tomatoes.   By that time we were getting hungry.

The view at the top was well worth the hike:  looking north to Virginia, we could see Whitetop Mountain and Mount Rogers; to the west towards Tennessee, Cherokee National Forest; and  to the South and east we saw numerous Ashe and Watauga County Peaks.

We slept well that night!

There’s a rumor going around that 2014 is going to be a dreaded Black Squirrel Winter for the N.C. High Country.  I am shocked that, having grown up in Watauga County, N.C., I’m just becoming aware of this phenomenon, what the Native Americans referred to as  Black Squirrel Winter  or Winter of Sorrows.  It sounds so dark and ominous, like the Winter is Coming motto from the George R.R. Martin’s epic fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire. In my head I picture the ginger-headed House of Stark-of-the-Blue-Ridge-Escarpment whispering “Beware the Black Squirrel Winter” to one another, warning of the 16-year winter ahead, and the army of black squirrels that prey on human flesh.

The black squirrel is a darker version of the eastern grey squirrel, the result of a mutant pigment gene. They can be described as a melanistic variety. Melanism, of course, is the opposite of albinism. They evolved in old growth forests, which had much darker cover.  Deforestation turned these squirrels grey: with the loss of the old growth forests, the black squirrels lost their evolutionary advantage, and grey became a better form of camouflage. Still, they’ve maintained steady populations in different areas of the country, including urban areas like Washington, D.C., where fewer predators make camouflage less essential for survival. They’ve also thrived in colder places like Ontario and the U.S. Northeast because they can retain heat in the winter much better than their grey cousins.  This is probably why they don’t mind the unusually brutal North Carolina Winters when we have them.

The Choctaw had stories about the black squirrel being responsible for solar eclipses.  Apparently the rodent liked to nibble on the sun.  Villagers would try to frighten the squirrel away so that it would stop eating the sun;  woman and children would shout and bang pots, while the men shot their weapons into the distance as if hunting for game.

If only frightening the black squirrels away could enlarge the sun, melting all the snow and ice.  Winter is coming….

I miss the mountains, but living down here in the Triassic Basin has its advantages.  The abundant sunshine is good for the soul.  I was reminded on Friday of another reason I love living here: the 12-month growing season.  After the coldest week we’ve had in a long time,  I was astounded to see our daffodils and tulips coming up in the backyard.

Flashback to Monday.  Bracing for single-digit temperatures, we left the kitchen faucet dripping.  On my daily bike ride into work, I wore ski goggles and four different layers.

And now, a few days later, my grandmother’s daffodils and Shawnna’s tulips are popping up to say hello.

The day after Christmas I took my bike up to the Virginia Highlands.  My destination was the Virginia Creeper Trail, an old railroad line that was turned into a 33-mile trail back in the 80s.  It is one of the best bike trails in America in one of the most beautiful places on earth.   My mom’s family settled in the region hundreds of years ago, so it always feels like home to me.

Part of the magic has to do with the geology of the region, which creates some stunning scenery.  Just looking at the rocks takes you back almost a billion years.  The whole region is underlain by hard volcanic bedrock.  This erosion-resistant rock, known as rhyolite, comes from melted continiental crust, which takes you back to the time of the continental rift.  In addition to the large rocks, I noticed lots of little colorful rocks with beautiful patterns on them, which are also some kind of volcanic matter.

I met up with my cousin Pat near Damascus, Virginia, a convenient point between the trailhead, 17 miles up Whitetop Mountain, and Abingdon, Virginia, 16 miles in the other direction.  We decided to skip the mountain climb and head  towards Abingdon.  Our leisurely ride  took us around the south fork of the Holston River.  We’d stop occasionally to check out some of the more interesting geological features and massive icicle formations.

We passed through a lot of pasture land on our ride.  Next time, I’ll bring more apples for the horses.

As we rode along the south fork of the Holston, we noticed a number of cabins for rent. My favorites were the tree houses. Maybe we’ll stay there next time.

After a bend in the woods, we passed a cave.  I couldn’t resist checking it out.  Although it seemed fairly cozy, I had already made plans to crash on the couch at the house my aunts had rented for our family gathering.

As the sun faded, the temperature dropped rapidly. We cooked a quick cup of hot
chocolate and then headed back to Damascus.  That evening I stayed  with my aunts, uncle and cousins. We got up the next morning and hit the trail again.
Nothing could have been more beautiful than mist rising off a waterfall in the morning sun.

Of course, with the beautiful, there is also the ugly.  We found the head of a goat as well as a well-eaten wild turkey carcass. The coyotes must be hungry this year, and there must be lots of them.  It made me remember that the original name of Abingdon was “Wolf Hills,” after Daniel Boone and his party were confronted by a pack of wild wolves.

I’d like to come back to the Creeper in 2014.  Next time we’ll see if we can stay in one of the tree houses.

Last weekend the mountains were calling.  On Friday we headed west, through the Yadkin Valley, then over the Blue Ridge escarpment to Elk Knob State Park in Meat Camp, North Carolina. The park is about nine miles north of Boone and only three hours from Durham.

(For those of you who are wondering, Meat Camp got its name from Daniel Boone and other hunters of the day who would pack their animal kill there before taking it back to the lowlands.  It is not, contrary to what some might think, an Atkins-style weight loss camp.)

Elk Knob is North Carolina’s youngest state park, and owes its existence to the efforts of the Nature Conservatory and local landowners who kept it from being developed.  The 3000-plus acres include a 2-mile trail to the summit of Elk Knob, Watauga County’s second-highest peak.  The trail was completed in 2011.

The park is like nothing else I’ve ever seen in North Carolina, and I’m not being hyperbolic.  I was in awe the whole time I was there.  Once we reached about 5,000 feet, I started getting a little light-headed, as if I were  hiking the southern Rockies again.  Perhaps that might explain part of my euphoria.

Elk Knob is one of twelve mountains north of Boone known as the Amphibolite Mountains, composed of blackish-grey  metamorphic rock known as amphibolite.  We saw tons of it, as well as huge pieces of quartz.  For a while I couldn’t stop taking pictures of all the interesting rocks.

These rocks are rich in nutrients, and as  a result you find a lot of interesting plant life there, including endangered plants like Gray’s Lily.  As soon as we got out of the car, we saw Trilliums everywhere, some together in large clusters.  A kind stranger, probably as giddy as we were, told us that the White Trilliums become pink as they get older.  We saw plenty of both.

Shawnna loved the Purple Trillium,  also known as the Wake-Robin.

The amphibolite  also makes the soil more alkaline than usual (a lot of mountain soil is acidic.)  One consequence of this is that you don’t see any acidic-loving rhododendron at Elk Knob.  Rhododendrons  typically cover the western North Carolina landscape, but not here.  In its absence  there is an incredible variety of tree life.  A lot of the trees on the mountain were ones that you’d find in northern hardwood forests.  Take the buckeye, for example; Ohio usually comes to mind.  Or the yellow birch, which is the provincial tree of Quebec.

Closer to the top, the trees became more stubby and gnarled, hardened from years of  bitter winters and harsh winds.  As we ascended, we both became somewhat light-headed.  I guess we’ve lived in the lowlands too long.  Next time we’ll stop and have a picnic at the stone bench halfway up the mountain.

The summit was breathtakingly beautiful.  On the north side you could see as far as Pilot Mountain, near Winston-Salem.  On the south side you could see as far as Mount Mitchell.  And of course, you could see all the mountains in between.   It was a true Blue Ridge panorama.

I took a nice shot of Snake Mountain, Elk Knob’s neighbor and another member of the Amphibolite range.  It sits on the Tennessee border, near the community of Trade, Tennessee.  In the 1970s,  my mom taught at Trade Elementary School, which sat at the foot of Snake Mountain.  One of my earliest memories is taking a field trip to Snake Mountain with my mom’s class  as a three-year old.  I  rode in a little red wagon while the kids from my mom’s class took turns pulling me up the mountain.

Looking at the gap between the two mountains, I could make out the course of the Old Buffalo Trail, first used by migrating buffalo, then Native Americans, then the European settlers as they pushed westward.

We’ll be back to Elk Knob soon.

Friday night we took a nighttime canoe ride with our friends Cathy and Rob.  We were part of a larger group sponsored by Frog Hollow Outdoors, who provided the boats and led us on the tour.

We canoed in the Three Rivers area of Durham, which is where  three rivers—the Eno, Flat and Neuse—converge and empty into Falls Lake.   Putting  in at the Eno River boat ramp off of Red Mill Road, our flotilla  headed east, to the end of the Eno River.

Our guides asked us to turn off our lights so that we could utilize our nighttime vision.  The full moon provided enough light for our paddle, and the weather was perfect. Occasionally a heron would fly overhead, and the owls definitely made their presence known.

Soon we reached the end of the Eno and came to the headwaters of the Neuse. The Flat river stretched out to the north of us.

We sat there and listened to the unusual sounds of the cricket frogs.  They made a surreal static popping noise, almost like a Geiger counter.  One of our companions was startled by the slapping of a beaver tail.

Although we had a blissful paddle through the moonlight, we were glad when we got back to the boat ramp.  That night we slept well, dreaming of herons and cricket frogs.

I’ve been reading the excellent field guide, Exploring the Geology of the Carolinas, written by Kevin Stewart and Mary Russell-Robinson.  It is a great introduction to geology for those of us who’ve never taken a geology course before.  One of the other neat things about the book is that each chapter serves as a guide to a geologically-interesting place in the Carolinas, complete with maps and directions.   A couple of weeks ago,  I decided to visit one of these places, Penny’s Bend, which is only 5 miles down the road from our house.  A word of caution: there are a lot of ticks  at Penny’s Bend, so you’ll want to wear long pants and a cap if you venture out there.

Penny’s Bend has lots of exposed rocks from when the continents of what are now Africa and North America pulled apart.  The volcanic rock also makes the soil at Penny’s bend alkaline.  As a result, you find a lot of plant species there are similar to what you find  on the prairies of  the midwest.  Most things aren’t in bloom right now, but some of the flower species at Penny’s Bend include:  asiatic dayflower; blue wild indigo; smooth purple coneflower, hoary puccoon, and Dutchman’s breeches.

As I was hiking, close to sunset, a friendly dog started following me. I noticed he would occasionally run ahead of me to the edge of the river and bark.

After a few minutes I realized that he was barking at the beavers who live in the area. On the bank at river’s edge, I saw a mass of sticks and mud which appeared to be a beaver lodge. The gnawed-off trees around  me appeared to confirm this.

I don’t know why I did this, but I yelled “go get em boy” at which point he ran down to the the lodge.  A few seconds later, I saw something swimming in the river. It was way too big to be a fish. Unfortunately it was getting dark and I had to get back home.

I decided to go back early in the morning to see if  I could get a glimpse of the beavers.  I didn’t have any luck, but  I managed to get more pictures of the beautiful rock formations, and hiked up to a nice bluff overlooking the Eno.  You don’t get a lot of nice vantage points like this in the Triangle.

As for the beavers, maybe I’ll see them at one of their other Durham locations. For those of you who don’t know, one of the largest beaver ponds in eastern North Carolina is Behind the Big Lots off of North Roxborro street.  It’s been turned into a preserve thanks to our friends at the Ellerbe Creek Watershed Association and the group of neighborhood activists known as the “Beaver Lodge” of Durham.  They’ll be having their annual Beaver Queen Pageant on June 1st, which helps raise money for the Ellerbe Creek Watershed Association.