Judd Creek Loop
Wednesday, March 20, 2024
1:20pm, 53F, cloudy but bright
After drop off this morning, I headed to the Judd Creek Loop again. By far my favorite spot to hike / wander / saunter on the island. It felt warmer than last week, and I decided to walk the loop in reverse of how I normally go. Such a great way to see a familiar place with new eyes! The first thing I noticed was the nettle. Last week was all about Indian Plum, but this week I noticed short nettles all over the trail. I wondered if they’d been here last week and I just hadn’t noticed, or did they sprout and grow this much in one week? Maybe next week I’ll come to harvest some to make an infusion for my oldest’s spring allergies.
Skunk cabbage is popping up with its weed-like aroma. I wonder if the plants are at all related? Further in on the trail I spotted the season’s first salmonberry blossom. A single pinkish-purple flower amidst still brown vines. False-lily-of-the-valley showed up in a great swath of green. They’ll send up little white flowers later in the seasons.
The big fir tree, that last week was seeping water around its base, was dry today. I wonder what the source of the water is because the creek was running louder and fuller today. There were more streams feeding the creek than last week, but the tree was drier.
I wandered off the trail and walked across the field, and I came across a single dandelion hidden in the grass. The sun hadn’t hit it fully and its flower was still partially closed. It dawned on me that I might be the only human to lay eyes on this particular flower. Definitely today, but maybe in its entire blooming life. For as much as I love the loop, there are rarely other people there. And when I have seen other people they they have never been off-trail. This lone little dandelion hidden a hundred paces off the trail in four inch grasses might have been a gift for my eyes only. A curious thought.
I check on the tree I affectionately call the Hag Tree - an old Callieach - for signs of life. Her branches are covered in moss and lichen which gives her that white-haired old woman look, but I’m not sure if the tree itself is still alive. There were very small buds on the tips of the branches, but they are brown and don’t exactly shout “new life.” It could be that they are left over from the tree’s last year of life and bleached of color, or brown could be the natural color for this type of tree. I will continue to observe and look for changes.
As I was headed back into a wooded area, I was struck by a mass of red flowering currant. These were not in bloom last week! There were probably half a dozen bushes close together and their cheery pink-red blossoms looked so happy against a cloudy sky.
The birds are calm as I pass through the woods. I hear their call and response, and they are definitely aware of me, but they don’t sound alarmed. Bird identification is not my strong suit. I can name the robin, the crow, the seagull, the Stellar’s Jay, but these birds are none of those. I try to mimic their call to offer my greetings to them. I think back to a story I read about visiting Paris. It’s considered quite rude to enter a shop and not greet the proprietor with a “Bon Jour!” As I’m passing through, I feel the same about walking into these birds’ fields. Some sort of song-like greeting is the least I can do.
The ant hills are starting to wake up. I thought Thatching Ants died off over the winter, but with the sheer volume of ants moving on top of the hill I can’t imagine that these are all newly hatched ants. They must overwinter deep in the hills and emerge as the weather warms. There are so many ants! If you look straight at the hill you don’t see anything at first, but shift your focus so that it just glances off the top of the hill and you’ll notice that the hills literally are alive! Like water boiling, the surface of the hill seethes and roils with activity. There are nettles growing in the hill and it makes me think of trees in their tiny any village. Are these nettles to them as big as our Doug Firs? If to an ant, a nettle is a tree, how then do they comprehend the trees that dwarf my human size? I’m sure they understand the tree more by the roots they encounter while tunneling in the Earth than they do by looking upward.
Further on the trail I came across a row of button fungus. It reminds me of the button candy you could get in the 80s. Little rows of sweet candy pips. I left the fungus alone wondering if fingers with an affinity for popping bubble wrap might find this fungus offers a similar sensory experience!
The last treat that the trail had in store for me was the first flowers on the wild bleeding hearts. I had stopped to listen to the birds and see where they were perched when a sliver of color at my feet caught my eye. The hearts are so delicate even when they are fully grown, but these newly emergent petals looked so paper thin. Strange to think that these first few pioneers will be spent before the majority of their neighbors put out blooms.
I will be back next week to take another wander around the loop. What changes will the Loop have after another week has passed? How much more will Spring have settled in to the field and trees? How much more will the nettle have grown? Will the fir tree be wet again, or remain dry? So many things to check on!
Oh, my! What a lovely walk. Thank you for inviting us along. I love all your observations. The Hag Tree, the button mushrooms! Oh, and I'm overjoyed to see Bleeding Heart and off-the-beaten path Dandelion.
We live in a region with so much abundance. What a lovely walk!