Autumn On The Rutland Trail - Part 3

The dogs and I were hiking a section of the Rutland Trail (see also previous two posts) and had gotten farther than ever before because someone had built a bridge over a formerly inundated section. Other spots were still wet, however, and I tried to keep the dogs from drinking out of the shallow pools:

Red Clover was in bloom along the trail. Certainly a common plant, it still surprised me to see flowers in bloom so late in the season:

Virgin's Bower Clematis seed heads made for a striking, autumn display:

When we returned to an access point to the main body of water, I encouraged the dogs to drink there instead of from puddles along the trail:

We were a happy group, making our way back along the trail:

The wind began to pick up as we arrived back at the bridge, and it was gusting with enough force that I wondered if a big storm was brewing. It turned out to be only wind, however, and merely added to the spirit of autumn in the air:

The dogs have seen so much water lately that they are enjoying it more than they used to:

And Beavers were clearly nearby. I wondered if the bush on the left had been Ironwood, but I never found out:

And then we came to a spot where the dogs could wade into shallow water, causing much excitement and merrymaking. I've seldom seen the dogs so happy. Perhaps it was a plot to get my car muddy, revenge for my not letting them run amok on the trail:

But when the fun was over, we kept walking:

This was an Insect Gall on a Goldenrod stem, a common sight along the edge of the trail:

Some places were so stunningly beautiful that I had to snap a photo. Notice the water and cattails in the center of the picture. These were marshes, and there was nowhere for a person to leave the trail:

Seamus and Fergus, my two "Poodly" hikers:

This Chicory flower caught me by surprise. Chicory quit blooming a long time ago. This was indeed a strange year, with warmer temperatures later into the season:

Jack often let the way, followed by Seamus, Daphne and Clover. Fergus often trots along at my side and that's what he was doing when I snapped this picture. We were almost back to the roadside where I'd parked, so I put the dogs on leashes and finished our hike. This trail is only 3 or 4 miles from home, a valuable asset:

Bush Hogging The North Field

I went out early in the morning to bush hog the north field, but when I got to the barn, I saw these two baby Starlings on the ground, next to the milk room. A Starling nests somewhere up in the insulation below the milk room roof, entering through the eave, each year. I had no way to put the babies back into the nest and could only hope the mother would find them, so all I could do was continue on into the barn and began my day:

 I have been seeing lots of Swallows, more than ever before, and had trouble identifying them. I caught this one on a wire and got a photo, deciding it was a Tree Swallow. I've also been seeing Swallows colored like Barn Swallows but without the long, forked tails. Now that I've got a nest of them, I have identified them as Cliff Swallows. The neighbors say they have Barn Swallows, but I haven't seen the nests. I don't know why the population explosion of Swallows, but I love it! This year there are fewer biting flies than previous years, and I think the swallows' swallowing them is the reason:

 Then I began bush hogging the north field, stopping to photograph wildflowers such as these beautiful Chicory flowers. They are the bluest of the blue. That is Pineapple Weed below them:

 I also stopped to spray paint any rocks which broke the surface of the ground:

 Common Milkweed, a problem plant as far as cattle are concerned, but with perhaps the sweetest perfume of any wildflower. And of course Monarch Butterflies require Milkweeds:

 I had two types of Thistles in the north field. I sprayed most of them with weed killer, but couldn't get them all. Bush hogging (I hope) will cut these off before they flower and produce seed. I searched my field guide and decided this kind was Canada Thistle:

 And this giant, invasive monster was, I decided, the aptly named Bull Thistle. They grow huge and they grow fast:

 

 While I was anxious to bush hog the thistles, I hated to do the same to the white Musk Mallows:

And the lovely pink Musk Mallows. It had to be done, though:

 Cow Vetch is everywhere and grows so low that the bush hog scarcely touched it:

 When I was all done, I removed the bush hog from the tractor and parked them both inside the barn. I was on my way back to the house when I saw a Starling flutter up from the ground. Then I noticed the babies were missing. Did some animal eat them? No, the mother had moved them around the corner, tucking them into the grass between the milk room and a lilac bush. A sad postscript to this story - the next morning, I discovered that a predator had gotten both babies:

Summer Storm Is Coming!

It was the morning after Pearl was born. I had to drive into the village of Potsdam and stopped at a friend's dairy barn to chat on my way back. After that, I headed for home on a narrow lane with corn on both sides of the road. It was very scenic:

Heavy storms had been predicted, but we hadn't seen any sign of them yet. But the sky darkened as I passed between the corn fields:

The eerie light kept changing, sometimes causing the corn to look yellow, sometimes causing the Chicory to seem to glow. It really did look like a major storm was coming our way:

I kept stopping along the road to photograph the changing colors of the corn and Chicory, the sky changing moment by moment:

The Milkweed was in full bloom, mixed in with the Chicory, alongside the road. The winds began to gust and I put away my camera and hurried home:

It wasn't raining yet when I arrived home, so I walked out to see how Scarlett and Pearl were doing. They were fine, although Scarlett still retained her afterbirth, but they hurried away to join the other cattle before the storm hit:

And indeed it looked ominous when I turned back toward the house and barn:

When I reached the barn, the chickens were running for cover:

And the sky darkened over the winter's hay supply:

We did have a sudden, heavy rain and I hadn't gotten all the house windows closed in time, so I had messes to clean up. This picture was taken from the upstairs bathroom window during the downpour. But otherwise it was just a summer rainstorm. No tornadoes, no house flying away to the land of Oz: