CVRT Chronicles 2025-01-12

 

After two snows and cold, windy conditions, two felines from the cat colony cuddled together on a bare spot next to a tree. I often come home after walking this part of the trail and remind my cats how lucky they are.

Updates from the Cumberland Valley Rail Trail (April 2024)

 

Eastern Bluebird near Fish Hatchery Road

A breeding pair of red-tailed hawks have returned to their nest near the Mile 8 signpost. 

A peacock on Nealy Road

Spring dandelion 

Cumberland Valley Rail Trail: Oakville Road to Bulls Head Road

 

CVRT between Nealy and Bull Heads Roads 4 February 2022

On the main part of the CVRT, it is difficult to find any part that is more remote. But between Nealy Road and Bulls Head Road there is very little traffic, fields and pastures are on either side. This makes this stretch a good place to watch birds. About halfway between the two roads, not too far from mile marker 8, a line of five trees, perpendicular from the trail, form a boundary between two fields. Three trees are close to the trail, while the other two, further away, are space further apart. On the furthest tree there is a hawk’s nest that has been there for at least the last three years. It is not uncommon to see a hawk sitting in that last tree monitoring the fields for rodents. Today, I saw two hawks in different trees, doubtlessly the breeding pair. As I approached, one of the hawks left the middle tree and retreated to the one with the nest. I think they are red-tailed hawks, but make a mental note to return soon, before trees start budding, with binoculars and the camera to identify. 

Near Nealy Road I watched a pair of downy woodpeckers move around a small tree searching for insects together. As they kept equidistant from each other, circling looking for a quick meal, their movements were like a dance. Facing upright, they work their way down the tree, in a movement that is seemingly backwards.

A few days later I returned to photograph the nest, but neither hawks were around. 

CVRT 2022-02-03

The CVRT between Queen Street and Fogelsonger Road.

The promise of an early February ice storm raised the possibility that my 400-plus day consecutive walking streak might come to an end. As a prelude, the front end of the storm brought a persistent rain helped melt the ice that covered the trail for the past two weeks. Sometimes, when the weather is bad like this, noticing the birds, the trees, and other sights is less important. The act of walking is more about concentrating on maintaining a pace, to keep going, and finishing positively. Ignoring that your pants are getting wetter, colder, and heavier, is not helpful. Still, I did catch a few male cardinals, their bright red plumage muted by the fog, flying through the trees. Rather than singing birds, my ears were focused on the sound of the rain on my umbrella.

I got back to my car after about half an hour, and the heated seats I have left on from the morning. My wet pants, damp boots, and socks are a mild discomfort. I would soon be home to change into dry clothes. But I thought of those who did not have that luxury. The temperature would soon drop, and being outside damp, if not wet, would not only be uncomfortable, but as the night set in and the rain turned to ice, it would be dangerous. If I had to spend the night outside in weather like this, where would I go? What would I do?

Photos from the CVRT

White Pine near Bullshead Road

 

I do not take many photos of squirrels but this one watched me intently,
probably concerned I would steal his walnut. 

November Birds

It has been a busy month at the sunflower seed and chopped peanut feeders outside of our kitchen window. A small flock, upwards of eight birds, of titmouse have regularly inhabited the bushes beneath the feeders. Chickadees and Wrens have been plentiful as well. Meanwhile, the abundance of blue jays continued their presence along the tree line in the back, as well as a murder of crows (eight), until all the leaves had fallen from the trees. Early in the month, pair of northern flickers were digging for food in the back. Although I had seen a couple of on the CVRT this month, I did not see a mockingbird in the backyard until late in the month, in fact the day after we put out mealworms to attract bluebirds for December.

While walking the neighborhood, a Cooper’s hawk has been hanging around the last few months in the vicinity of Chestnut Drive and Hickory Lane. I spotted it on a low branch of a maple tree mid-month, but it quickly flew away as I approached. The real surprise was on a bleak, dreary, and overcast Sunday (22 November), I was walking near Pin Oak and Partridge Trail and saw a rather large bird flying overhead. As it got closer, nearly flying directly overhead, I could barely make out the white head of a bald eagle as it flew toward South Mountain.

 

European Starling on the CVRT 

Backyard

• Cardinal, Northern 
• Chickadee, Carolina
• Crow, American
• Flicker, Northern
• House Finch
• Jay, Blue
• Junco, Dark-eyed
• Mockingbird, Northern
• Nuthatch, White-breasted
• Robin, American 
• Sparrow, House
• Sparrow, White-throated
• Titmouse, Tufted
• Woodpecker, Downy
• Woodpecker, Red Bellied
• Wren, Carolina

 Neighborhood

• Dove, Mourning
• Eagle, Bald
• Hawk, Cooper’s
• Starling, European

Cumberland Valley Rail Trail

• Bluebird, Eastern 
• Hawk, Red-tailed
• Sparrow, White-crowned
• Vulture, Turkey
• Woodpecker, Hairy

 Further afield

• Cormorants, Double Crested [C&O Canal]
• Heron, Great Blue [Newburg and C&O canal]
• Kingfisher [C&O Canal]
• Vulture, Black [C&O Canal]

 

In all, 16 species in the backyard and 23 species overall. 

 

Tiger on the CVRT

A new house was built just adjacent to the Cumberland Valley Rail Trail, just east of Ott Road, in the past year or so. Beginning in the spring, I have begun to see more cats in the proximity of the house. To date, I have identified at least six different cats. I assume that they are barn cats; as I walk by most of them are visible, but remain close to the tree line so that, in case I am more dangerous than I look, they can make an easy escape. That is true for all but one of the cats.

Tiger from the CVRT

Tiger, my name for him because he has never managed to tell me his real name, nor have I ever met any of his associated humans, is a friendly fellow. He is predominately white on his legs and belly, with an orange, almost golden, coat across is back. Tiger has a funny face with an orange path around his nose and mouth, that I refer to as his van dyke beard. From the very first time we crossed paths, he has wanted to run up aside me, tucks his head down and rolls on to the grounds just out of reach. If I squat to greet him, he pops up and rubs against my legs, in the process asking for a head scratch. If I remain standing, he is a little intimidated, but he remains interested in greeting me. His soft meow lets me know that he is around, even if I do not immediately see him.

On the hottest days of the summer, and now the coldest days of winter, Tiger is always happy to see me. I suspect, however, I am probably not the only one. Tiger, me thinks, is partial to all humans that are willing to spend a little time with him. Maybe, one day, he hopes, I will bring food because of his hard work in getting acquainted with me. His companions watch warily as Tiger and I have our normal conversations, consisting primarily of, “you’re a good cat,” meow. “Okay, I am going to go now.” Meow.

On a walk in mid-December, the coldest day of the season thus far, I was nearing the valley of the cats as I now think of this part of the trail. As I approach, I keep an eye out for the cats. Nearby a wooded area is usually filled with several birds. I stopped for a moment and watched juncos, sparrows, wrens and a downy woodpecker flit from tree to tree. Soon, I saw two feline figures in the distance and thought to myself that the birds should take care because the half a dozen cats could wreak havoc on their community.

The much sought after head rub

Before too long, I see Tiger, tail up in a slight question mark pose, with a soft meow to greet me. I bent over to rub his head as he rolled on his back from side to side. He gets up and stares at me, his eyes begging for more attention. I laugh at him because in his fur are several pieces of dry leaves that has created a new layer of leopard spots. Despite me telling him that it is cold, the wind chill was in the single digits, and he should get into a barn or other shelter, Tiger is determined to follow. I happened to glance up to see a sharp-shinned hawk in a nearby tree. I reached for my camera, but the raptor flew across the fallow cornfield before the camera focused. I wandered down the path, lost in my thoughts: just a few minutes before the birds were in trouble because of the cats. But my perspective had changed. There had been kittens in the valley of the cats during the summer. Was it in the realm of possibility that the cats were endangered by this bird? Tiger and his companions face a myriad of other dangers because they are free-range cats I decided; the hawk is probably the least of their concerns.

I had once again regained my normal stride but continued thinking about Tiger and potential dangers. I smile because Tiger is trying to make believe that he would like for me to be his human; however, I know this is likely a scam – he probably says that to all the humans just to get some treats. Nevertheless, I should put some cat treats and food in the car so that when I am walking in this area…just then I heard a soft pathetic Meow. Tiger is about ten yards behind, his squat legs moving as fast as they can carry him. We are more than a quarter of a mile from our meeting place. I bent over and gently chided him for following me, all the while giving him another head scratch. Maybe I am wrong. Perhaps I am the only human who spends some extra and special time with him. After all, he is a free-range cat.

Crier

In between semesters I can walk the CVRT more frequently and manage to cover more of the trail. Within a few days, I found myself back at the valley of the cats. As I walked the slight rise from Ott Road, I began to scan the trail ahead for signs of cats. Off in the distance, I spied a couple of felines walking adjacent to the path in the distance, but soon, just off to my left, I heard the familiar beckoning of Crier, the name I have given to a timid grey cat. Crier’s meow is more of a lamentable wailing. His cry is a pitiful call for attention, yet it is somehow muted, almost difficult to hear. As I talked to Crier, two other cats (Turtle and a black and white, there are several) creeped up behind me just out of reach but curious. Crier is skittish and any move toward him results in a dash away for a few feet. Yet, he/she continues to cry. I squatted down on the other side of the path and spoke gently to Crier, who sat serenely but then let out another pitiful howl. Food would probably help my cause I thought.

I walked toward Oakville and was a little disappointed that I did not see Tiger. Although I occasionally fear for his safety, I know that he was probably off doing what free-range cats do and I would see him later. It was rather late; I would soon begin to lose the light.

A house in Oakville, at the intersection of Mudlevel Road and Oakville Road, is a cat haven. For several years, the occupants of the house have fed a brood of outdoor cats. It is not uncommon to see up to a dozen cats inconspicuously sleeping on the porch, and in the bushes. Paper plates are strewn around the outside of the house with the remnants of wet cat food. Once when I was walking by, I met the man who lived there and complementarily mention his care for the cats. He replied that I was welcome to take any cat that I wanted, they all needed good homes.

The house across the street always decorates for holidays. Christmastime always brings old-fashioned plastic figures of Santa, Frosty, and the reindeers. I always admire the manager scene, with paint peeling from the plastic figures. I speculate how old they must be: are they fifty years old? There was a time when several houses would have had these plastic figures with long extension cords endeavoring to power the displays. Today, they have been replaced by LED displays, projections, and deflated airblown inflatable characters.

On my return trip, I noticed the fog hanging low across the valley about an hour and a half before sunset. After I greeted two grandmothers, speaking Pennsylvanian Dutch, pushing a baby in a stroller, I heard a persistent familiar greeting meow, as Tiger came running from the tree line to greet me. I knelt and Tiger flopped down to be petted. He was more than half a mile from his normal location. I asked if he wanted to follow me back toward his home and the other cats, but he was content to lie in the middle of the trail and gently roll back and forth on his back. He seemed to be telling me, I am good, I’ll catch you next time.

Reading on Mud Level

Fulfilling my nearly quotidian trip to the CVRT, I drove past the school for Plain Children on Mud Level Road. Seven children, sitting on a two-by-four railing that marked the boundary between the parking lot and the playground, had their heads dutifully bent reading books while sitting in the sun. Each child was dressed in overalls and/or the floral patterns of homemade clothes that I associate with Mennonite women. Small uniformed gaps divided each child from his/her companion. Driving past at 35-miles-per-hour, I caught only a fleeting glance. But there were no distractions; just the pleasure of reading in the sun on a spring day.

Clouse Road

Early April brings warmer weather on the CVRT; it is a time for the reemergence of life. Baby goats not much bigger than Pip have appeared at Ott Road near Clouse. A very pregnant cat comes to greet me while I am walking. Rather than being timid, she rolls over and demands that I scratch the back of her head. I suspect that she things I might have a little food for her as well. As I go to continue my walk, she tries to keep up with me. I gently explain, “You’re a good girl but you’re not going home with me.” I outpace her and she cannot keep up. Nevertheless, she is waiting for me on my return trip desirous of a couple more scratches behind the ears.

As I am walking, I watch a Mennonite girl, approximately five years-old pulling a cardboard box with a rope attached as if it were a wagon. I try not to stare, just glancing as I pass. She made big circles, laughing with great joy at her own imagination, as her busy father avoids her path on his way back to the barn. Much like with my own cats, there is great pleasure in an unattended box, it lets our imagination take over.

Mud Level Road

Driving home from the CVRT, along Mud Level Road, I observed a cute scene: A Mennonite girl of about 8-10-years old, was walking down her lane to pick up the mail. She gingerly walked upon the fresh two inches of snow we received in the morning. Her shoulder-length hair, the same color as the cornstalks in the adjacent field, was flowing from beneath her knitted cap. At her feet were three fluffy gray cats, less than a year old, weaving between her legs. They looked into her eyes begging for attention. I was tempted to photograph, but it was impractical and perhaps unethical.