Dickens Quote

 “The most important think in live is to stop saying ‘I wish’ and start saying ‘I will.’ Consider nothing impossible, then treat possibilities as probabilities.”

Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

January Birds

January is the time for new lists. The bluebirds are slightly more visible against the drabness of winter; the odd snow goose shows up at local ponds. All the while, we hope that they are harbingers of better weather, more explorations, and a return to a more normal time. 

Eastern Bluebird (CVRT)

Snow Goose (Dykeman Park)

Nor’easter February 2021

The cedar on Pin Oak

During the first few days of February, a powerful nor’easter tracked through Pennsylvania, up through New York, and into New England. Central Pennsylvania was hit particularly hard because of the merging of a Midwest storm system with the one tracking up the coastline. In Shippensburg, the total snowfall amount came in at about 14 inches (35 centimeters). Under normal circumstances, we would have all rejoiced at the prospect of a snow day; however, although most people stayed in, the pandemic has already curtailed most of our travel.

I had bought myself snowshoes for Christmas, and this was my first chance to try them out. As the storm was in its initial phase on Monday, my first walk was around the neighborhood. The next day, after the roads had been plowed, I took them to Shippensburg Township Park to walk a little bit on the Rail Trail. Prior the storm, I made sure to fill the bird feeder but afterwards the snowshoes were helpful in filling the birdfeeders in the backyard each day.

A white-throated sparrow during the storm

Briarcliffe Drive

A hawk, waiting out the storm. It was probably the
Cooper's Hawk I often see around the neighborhood

Dark-eyed junco

The statue in the center of town

One of my neighbors who normally says "hi" during my walks

Snowshoeing on the CVRT

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. 

New Year’s Day Afternoon

 

The weather on the first day of the year is usually not particularly good, and today is no exception. A persistent rain with the temperature hovering around freezing makes for a dreary winter afternoon. It feels like the sun will be setting shortly after lunch. But if you are one of the cats of the house, the fireplace is on, the Christmas tree is still up, and you can crawl beneath it and take a long nap. From the perspective of Lucie, Pip, and Coco, the day cannot be much better. They are young, healthy. and well cared for. It is the best days of their lives. 

Snuggled in beneath the Christmas Tree

Three cats, if you look closely...

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. 

 

June on the C&O Canal Towpath

The return to the towpath, after three months of staying close to home because of the pandemic, was a difficult decision. But because I was in the most remote area of the C&O Canal, and I would minimize the interaction with other people, I decided to have some exploration during this COVID summer. What I did not realize was that the trail was so remote that it proved difficult to access. 

Exiting I-68, I had difficulty believing my GPS, which said that Bonds Landing was twelve miles away, but it would take 42 minutes to arrive. I was sure it could not be that long, and that it would correct itself as I got closer. If anything, the GPS was optimistic. What I did not realize was traveling though Green Ridge State Forest would be on narrow gravel roads, fording three steams on Carroll and Kasecamp roads, and dodging potholes that were capable of swallowing small cars. As nerve wracking as it was to drive, it was a fascinating journey with an old cemetery, stunning vistas, deer, and mosquitoes. 

The towpath was lush, and the undergrowth full. Within five minutes of beginning my walk I nearly stepped on an eastern ratsnake sunning itself. It is a reminder, early on, that I have not been on the trail in three months. This is not the same as walking in the neighborhood. Whenever I see a ratsnake, at first glance, I think it is a tree branch that has fallen across the path. But the curvature is a giveaway. It is the largest and most common snake in Maryland. Although it is nonpoisonous, its bite can be quite painful. 

I have been reading Peter Wohlleben’s seminal book, The Hidden Livers of Trees, in which he argues that our concept of life, communication, and cooperation is so deeply rooted in our own experience, it is difficult to conceive how other living things might experience the same things. We cannot adequately communicate with trees to determine if they contemplate experiences and relationships, thus we do not know if they have experiences like animals. But his description of how communities of trees share resources, help one another, and have knowledge to heal themselves certainly forces me consider trees differently. Walking along the edge of the canal, one becomes conscience of the number of trees that have succumbed. Often, you can find dead trees leaning against neighbors. It is almost as if the neighbors are cradling their dead neighbors in their comrade's repose. Looking at the remains of one tree resting against two neighbors, I was reminded of the Pennsylvania Railroad War Memorial at 30th Street Station in Philadelphia. The bronze statue, which honors those railroad workers who died during the Second World War, depicts the Archangel St. Michael supporting a lifeless body is a moving tribute. Perhaps trees do not grieve, but a long examination of nature can remind us of how we are part of something larger than ourselves. 

As I finished the month, there is a sense of excitement because I am less than twenty miles from the upstream terminus of the towpath at Cumberland, Maryland. Yet, it is sad that this portion of the journey is coming to an end. During the four trips to the towpath this month, I have encountered few other walkers, except for some near the aqueducts. It makes walking during the pandemic more socially responsible. But like many other things during a pandemic, it is an experience with minimal human interaction. This lack of interaction is not good for our mental health. It is tiring, but the regenerative powers of nature are still present. 

Cody meeting me as I neared the end of my 9.5 mile walk

Roby Cemetery 

Yellow-billed Cuckoo

Paw Paw Tunnel

Town Creek Aqueduct 

Orchard Oriole

Lock 68

Least Flycatcher

Oldtown Toll Bridge