Redwater Brook Trail - Part 2

The dogs and I were hiking the Redwater Brook Trail in Brasher State Forest (see also Part 1, posted yesterday), but were currently off the trail and exploring the woods:

I came to these colorful Turkey Tail fungi on a fallen limb:

And then we rejoined the trail. It was easy walking, except for a few icy places:

Clover and Daphne, apparently thinking they were mighty Timber Wolves, wanted to go explore off the trail, but I made sure they stayed close by and always in sight:

And I followed them a few times when it appeared they'd found something interesting:

For two little foo-foo dogs, they sure have adventurous spirits:

Clover, showing off her Timber Wolf stance atop the roots of a fallen tree:

But mostly we just walked along the trail. The last time we were here, it was autumn and the golden leaves were falling everywhere I looked. I tried to get a video of the showering leaves, but it didn't turn out good enough to use:

We left the trail again when I spotted a grove of White Cedars, a favorite tree of mine:

And there was more color on the forest floor, this time a mix of moss and lichens (and frost):

And an old stump, now supporting even more moss and lichens. I saw evidence that Red Oak was once dominant here, before the Cedars took over:

There is something magical about White Cedars, and a grove them is a wondrous place to be. But we still had more to see on the Redwater Brook Trail, and I'll post Part 3 tomorrow:

Walter F. Pratt Picnic Area - Part 1

Finally, after the longest winter I can remember living through, we had a warm, sunny day - and the promise that it would continue and turn into springtime. I took the dogs to the nearby Walter Pratt Picnic Area, a favorite place for quick and scenic walks:

There was still ice on the reservoir, but no snow on the ground, so we started off by walking toward the dam. The dogs were as excited as usual, and I tried to keep them reined in by blowing on my silent dog whistle. To my surprise, it worked pretty well:

 The pooches are particularly fond of the picnic tables and fire pits, places they always hope to find food scraps. I am happy to report, however, that they seldom find anything:


 We rounded the corner and began walking to the top of the earthen dam:

Fergus ran down to the water's edge by the cattails, but Seamus and Daphne excitedly ran to the top of the dam. Clover was all the way ahead of us, up near that gate with the yellow bar. Jack, as usual, was running in giant circles. Notice how skinny Seamus looks. That's partly because he had a haircut, but also because he lost a lot of weight. I've now increased his food lest he get too thin. He's in fine shape right now, as evidenced by his lively gait and happily flopping ears:


I stopped to admire the scenery, one of the nicest things about this spot. That peninsula which juts out into the water from the left is another favorite spot, and I knew we'd be heading there shortly:

We started toward the spillway:

And then I thought how we'd been that way many times before. So I walked down the opposite side of the dam into the woods. Seamus, however, stayed up at the crest:

I briefly examined the forest below the dam and then we headed back up to join with Seamus. The cool thing about dogs is that they are beside themselves with joy to be going in any direction. For them, the joy is in the journey. Oh, that I should be so wise:

They stopped often to pee and to sniff what I call the Doggie Newspaper:

My sniffer doesn't work as well, but I did stop to examine the lichens, mosses and single pine seedling at the base of an old White Pine:


We headed off through the forest toward the peninsula which you saw in one of the above photos. I'll post Part 2 tomorrow:

Fort Jackson State Forest - Part 1

We had just hiked to Black Pond and Long Pond the previous day, and my sister was leaving after lunch, but we decided we could do a quick hike in the nearby Fort Jackson State Forest. Black Pond had been about 37 miles away, but this state forest was only about 3.5 miles from my door. So we drove to it and let the dogs out. Still tired from the previous day's hike, they were more subdued than usual:

I found the scenery less picturesque than what we'd seen around Black Pond, but in some ways I liked this better. These woodlands seemed like home and reminded me of the New England forests of the Pilgrims:

A friend was hiking with us and called our attention to an old stone foundation in the forest. Someone had a large cabin here long ago:

We were just leaving the foundation when I discovered a laid up stone well, about ten feet from where the cabin once stood:

And we saw these amazing plants. I thought they were Liverworts, but looked them up when I got home and decided they were lichens, mixed with mosses:

It was a wondrous autumn scene, though there wasn't yet much color:

A quiet walk in an autumn woods is good for the soul:

We took a left onto another trail, a path which took us downhill toward the St. Regis River (I knew from previous hikes here):

The dogs may have sensed the river, for they began to pick up speed:

The trail continued on, but we left it and went straight toward the river:

Clover and Fergus broke into a run. They knew what was ahead:

Indeed, even we humans could soon see the river:

When we emerged onto onto the rocky flats, we paused to admire the pristine beauty of the St. Regis River:

The four little dogs waded in. There's more to the story, of course, but it will have to wait until tomorrow's post, Part 2:

County Multi-Use Trail at Hopkinton - Part 2

I'd mistaken a trail sign and headed off into the woods, thinking I was following the trail (see yesterday's post), but quickly figured out that I should have stayed on the edge of the field. The dogs, however, were delighted by a big, old, hollow maple. We rejoined the real trail at the deer stand I'd previously photographed and which you can just up ahead:

Clover bounced through the trees, climbing up onto a boulder before she joined us on the real trail:

But I could see the ATV tracks continuing on for a very long distance, staying at the edge of the field. We'd already come quite a way and the frozen tracks were difficult walking, so we turned back toward where we'd parked. The dogs were as overjoyed to be going that direction as they were at the beginning. They're so easy to please:

They ran ahead, then came back, never going too far. Well, Jack went too far once, but he came back when I sounded sufficiently angry:

But mostly it was a pleasant walk in spring sunshine:

There was little green, of course, but the melting snow had exposed some green grass and Mullein leaves:

And mosses and lichens on rocks:

The dogs were so well behaved that I was able to relax and save my voice:

Although they did find some small patches of ice and venture out onto them:

Almost back to our car, we returned to the shelter of the trees:

The car was parked along a busy highway, so I called the dogs to heel. Jack, however, ran ahead (you can see him at the top of this photo) and when I got him back, snapped a leash on him. This was a short and pleasant excursion but not one I'll try again. Several State Forests are within a couple of miles, so I'll take the dogs there instead:

Discovering Tiny Skerry, New York - Part 3

I was taking a driving tour of the very rural, tiny, Skerry New York and had the dogs with me in the car. It was a lovely autumn day for sightseeing:

This home had the steel roofing which is so popular up here in big snow country:

And there were placid cattle, chewing their cuds. These Black Angus were the biggest Angus I've ever seen, perhaps half Holstein:

I passed by picturesque farm houses:

And woodsy homes. The forest was everywhere:

And then I found the Skerry Cemetery and turned onto the lane that would take me to see it:

Clearly, this was an old cemetery and it reminded me that the area was once more populated than it is now:

I left the dogs in the car and got out to take a closer look at some of the headstones:

Orange lichens covered many of the oldest headstones. This one read: Elliott: Mother Addie L, 1863-1927 and her dau. Addie May Reynolds, 1890-1929. Her infant dau, 1929:

 All I could read beneath the orange lichens on this one was Edna, died 1886:

 Gilman Livingston, died Dec. 12, 1884, age 74 y'rs:

 Walter W. Tarbell, died June 1, 1885, age 32y'rs. A logging or farming accident, perhaps?:

I was high up on a hill, overlooking my parked car with the dogs' faces in the windows, watching my every move. But our driving tour was over, so I pocketed my camera and headed down the hill to begin the drive home: