WILD WILDFLOWER WOMEN 

We love being outdoors – the natural world is our world. Most of us had worked together for over 20 years at a nature center – spent time outdoors, taught children and adults about how the earth works – how plants and animals depend on each other, how sunlight energy recycles through ecosystems, how to use native plants in landscaping, and how to identify and enjoy birds. We had guided ecotourism trips from Alaska to Africa and from the Everglades to Panama. Sharing and interpreting the natural world was our business and our life.

It was “natural” that we would love spending our spare time outdoors also – hiking, birding, going on “nature walks”, discovering and identifying wildflowers, photographing and drawing what we were seeing, keeping journals, traveling to new places and exploring new ecosystems. And it was only “natural” that eventually we would be drawn together as if by a giant green magnet to share this passion for nature in a very special way.

For several years, we have made our gathering together an annual event – an intense week, usually in the spring so we could take advantage of blossoming wildflowers and nesting birds  – watching the natural world renew itself as well as renewing ourselves and our friendships. This last was especially important to us since we no longer live in the same town and communicate via emails.

It works like this: We select a place to go months ahead of time, find out when is a good time to see wildflowers and birds in that area, try to coordinate a date (which sometimes works for all of us and sometimes not), arrange for a place to stay, and finally start making lists of what to take with us. The most important things on our lists are binoculars, cameras, and field guides. Some of us bring big serious cameras, some of us small ones that fit in a pocket.  We bring an iPhone that has bird calls on it and an iPad to download photos we’ve taken during the day. (Thank you, Steve Jobs.)

We all share food and travel expenses and take turns making meals, and occasionally we eat out, have picnic lunches, and exchange favorite recipes. We always have a library with us, since we each have our favorite bird books and wildflower books. Our library also includes mammal, reptile/amphibian, and butterfly books, and novels to read during our down time. And of course, we all bring our individual knowledge of many natural history topics.

Some of us are more assiduous about taking notes than others – some taking detailed descriptions of everything we see, and some never writing down anything. A few are very particular about identifying each and every wildflower we see. Some of us struggle to take a picture of each and every one. One or two of us work hard at tracking down a bird we’re hearing, then striving mightily to identify it.  And some of us are perfectly content to just walk along and just be there – outdoors with friends.

Frances Theodora Parsons, in a book called  How to Know the Ferns, written in 1899, said:

Cave Creek Canyon

“The Hobbit Summer” Part 2.

Phil and I had birded in Southeast Arizona several times in “previous lives”, but this would be the first of many trips there together. It was one of three places in North America where we could see the most “lifers” – birds we had never seen before.   And the first of a lifetime of birding adventures together. Also, it was very special to be sharing all this with my new daughter,Jenny.

Most visitors to this area – especially if they’re birders – spend time in the Chiricahua Mountains, southeast of Tucson.  Many of the places we would visit were  nestled at the bottom of high craggy peaks, canyons that sheltered trickling creeks during the dry season and gushing torrents during the Arizona monsoon season. Many of these areas not only support wildlife that lives there year round, but attracts birds that migrate through the area or spend the winter there, or expand their range there by wandering north from Mexico. The diversity of ecosystems is another factor at play – from the Chihuahuan desert at 3,800 feet to spruce covered forests at over 9,000 feet. The entire area encompasses about 1,000 square miles.

Our first campsite that year was at South Fork,  one of the trailheads up Cave Creek Canyon, near the village of Portal. This campground, a part of Coronado National Forest, was so popular and so close to sensitive habitats, camping was eventually eliminated there to reduce the impact. (The trail is still one of the most popular birding sites in the Chiricahuas.) One lowlight of that campsite was the privy. It really was private, set back in the oak woods, affording one a lovely view of the surroundings if you propped the door open with a big rock. Which is what I was doing early one morning when a pack of coatis wandered by. I managed to run and wake up Jenny and Phil so they could come see these furry, long-tailed, pointy-nosed relatives of raccoons. Phil proceeded to tell us the story of a zoology professor he had taken courses from at the University of Florida when he was working on his Wildlife Ecology degree. It seems the Professor kept a few coatis as pets and Phil had the opportunity to meet some of them up close and personal. Later that day as we walked around the area, we ran into that same Professor in Cave Creek. This will be the first of “Ann’s Laws”: If you hang around in places where there is wildlife, especially birds, you will eventually run into someone you know!

Later, we visited the nearby Southwest Research Station, a facility of the American Museum of Natural History, where field research has been carried on for many years. We watched Blue-throated, Black-chinned, Rivoli’s Hummingbirds coming in and out to the feeders. One of our favorite birds, the Acorn Woodpeckers, entertained us by poking acorns into holes in the sides of the trees – saving them for later eating.

The next day we drove up into the surrounding mountains, with several peaks in excess of 9,000 feet and occasional spectacular views 3,000 feet down into Cave Creek Canyon. Along the way we got quick looks at a Northern Goshawk, a new bird for us. We were working our way along the narrow, winding, unpaved road to Rustler Park, another popular birding spot, especially good for higher elevation birds, located in a beautiful meadow among huge tall conifers. We erected our 3-man tent at my favorite site that came complete with Stellar’s Jays and Yellow-eyed Juncos. Having been warned about bears in the area (black bears – not grizzly),  we were prepared to stow our food in the car overnight or when we were away from our campsite. Later, as we made ready for bed, we carefully put everything away and left only our gallon jug of water on the table. In the morning, after a quiet night, we found a large damp spot on the table and our water jug on the ground with very large teeth marks in it. Jennifer insisted we keep that souvenir jug forever, and I think it’s still up in our attic!

Much of that area is part of the Coronado National Forest, and we had read that you could get a key from the ranger at the office in Cave Creek that would open a gate that protected a “Crystal Cave”. How could we not do that? Icing on the cake of our “Hobbit Summer”. We got the key, gathered up several flashlights, and hiked in to the cave entrance. Since we were rank beginners to spelunking, we just went a short distance into the cave – cool and dark. The thing I remember most about that cave adventure was that on the way back, hiking to the car, perched quietly on a branch along the trail watching us move silently through the oaks, was an Elegant Trogon (then known as Coppery-tailed Trogon) – a very special bird of that area – and one of the many reasons birders go to the Chiricahuas.

We spent another week exploring other canyons full of birds – in the Huachuca Mountains to the west, and the Santa Rita Mountains, west of them, and along Sonoita Creek near the small town of Patagonia. And we added more birds to our life list – the Anna’s Hummingbird at Ramsey Canyon, near Sierra Vista, the famous Spotted Owls after a long hike up Scheelite Canyon on Fort Huachuca, Abert’s Towhee near the town of Hereford, nesting Whiskered Screech-Owls in Madera Canyon, and down the rocky, dry streambed in the isolated Sycamore Canyon where we found the rare White-eared Hummingbird. And eventually we finished reading The Hobbit, and our “Hobbit Summer” came to a close. The first of many trips together.

In fact, this past summer we traveled “Out West” again – only this time it was with Jenny, her husband, Steve, and their two children Elizabeth and Joseph – all of them birders – the first of many trips.

THE HOBBIT SUMMER

Then I married a man who was a birder and a camper and had a daughter! What a thrilling new life I was to have. It began with a camping trip out west that came to be known as “The Hobbit Summer”, since that was our book of choice to read along the way, and since we would be visiting several caverns during our journey. We started the trip by visiting Florida Caverns State Park, Jenny’s first cave. She was also starting her first “Life List” of birds – birds she had never seen before – and she spent lots of time looking new birds up in her field guide and making notes – Scissor-tailed Flycatchers, Barn Swallows, Loggerhead Shrikes, Common Nighthawks and Black-tailed Jackrabbits. Yes, we counted mammals, too!

When we got to Austin, Texas, we spent a day with a local birder (now well-known bird photographer, writer, and guide Greg Lasley) who kindly took us “under his wing” and helped us find two special lifers – Golden-cheeked Warbler and Black-capped Vireo. He even sold us his brand new copy of Jim Lane’s “Birder’s Guide to Arizona”, since the ABA office in Austin was closed, and he assured us he could buy another. Greg was a great guy and we were lucky to have spent time with him. He even showed Jenny how to put a fence lizard to sleep by putting it on its back in her hand and rubbing its tummy! Good birding information to have! Then she got to see her first Roadrunner! What a thrill. Check out his website http://www.greglasley.net/

We continued on through the Texas Hill County and camped the first of many nights under zillions of stars. My camping experience had consisted of always being in a camper, a trail shelter, or a tent, and now suddenly, here I was with a guy who thought if the night was clear and you could see the stars – why not sleep out under them so you could go to sleep watching them! The caveat was – no bugs and no rain. And Jenny was so happy to be having birding adventures, she didn’t care where she slept. What a family!

We made our way to Davis Mountains State Park, west of Ft. Stockton, seeing Lesser Goldfinches and Lark Sparrows. Having crossed the Pecos River, being in the mountains and seeing the sunset against the beautiful hills assured us that we really were “Out West”. We went to sleep that night with Cassin’s Kingbirds calling.

The next day was my birthday and we packed up and headed for the Guadalupe Mountains National Park and the nearby Carlsbad Caverns National Park, both east of El Paso. In the mountains we saw Montezuma Quail (then called Harlequin Quail) and our first Mule Deer of the trip. This whole area was under an ocean at one time and the caverns are composed of old limestone that had been part of that reef. One special bird of that area is Cave Swallows that swoop and dive in and out of the cave during the day. A spectacular sight of the caverns is the fly-out at dusk of thousands of Mexican free-tail bats that have used the caves for thousands of years.

I recently did some research and learned that since 1996, they have recorded the numbers of bats roosting in the cave by taking infrared photos of them. The photos show sleeping bats as dark patches; then they estimate the amount of ceiling that’s covered by the dark patches and multiply it with an estimated number of bats per square foot. Recent numbers show that about 400,000 bats enter and leave the cave daily. After exploring the immense caverns for several hours, eating my birthday lunch 750 feet underground, and watching the evening exit of the bats out of that huge hole in the ground, we took a “wildlife auto drive” on a dirt road through the desert habitat that led us out of the park and to the highway. We had a spotlight with us just in case we found any wildlife on our night drives, and along the way we were thrilled to find a Great Horned Owl sitting on a perch and a Ring-tailed Cat – another new mammal for our list!

Breakfast the next morning was at the Nickel Creek Café, in the middle of nowhere, owned and operated by a man who said he was born and raised in the Guadalupe Mountains. We ate our first breakfast burritos! I wonder if that café is still there. [According to the Texas State Historical Association, as of 2005, the community of Nickel Creek “had only two residents, who operated the Nickel Creek Café in an old gas station.”]

We were still working our way west to southeast Arizona, and passing through New Mexico we drove down to Columbus, a tiny border town where in 1916 some of Pancho Villa’s soldiers made the first (and last) armed invasion of the continental U. S. since the War of 1812. We went across the border and ate a delicious Mexican dinner, then spent the night at Pancho Villa State Park, where because of a mosquito problem, we spent our first night in our tent. To compensate – we enjoyed the Roadrunners and Cactus Wrens in the campground. We were also starting to see Pronghorn Antelopes along the roadsides.
To be continued.

NOTE: I write a monthly column about birds for the Palm Beach Post. If you’d like to read some of them, go to palmbeachpost.com and insert “Ann Yeend Weinrich” in the search box.

As we headed for Cades Cove the sun began to shine and we began to warm up. The road along the Little River was beautiful with the sun sparkling on the surface. Randy imagined he was planning to go down the river in a kayak, and “read” the route he would take. He has loved that park for a long time – since he was three years old and hiked up to the Chimney Tops on a previous family trip. Something new in the park we noticed were signs for “Quiet Walkways”. These walkways were numerous, parking available, and they provided an easy opportunity for people to get into the woods to “experience nature”. They were short trails, mostly level, and a real brainstorm of someone’s to encourage people to get out of their cars.

We arrived in Cades Cove and found a nice campsite. Cades Cove is even today one of the most popular campgrounds in our national parks, and the 11-mile one-way auto drive around the historic cove has lots of wildlife viewing adding to the attraction. Our campsite came complete with a huge stack of logs, as the park service had recently cut down some dead white pine trees and left the logs around for campers to use. So, we made camp, started a fire and toasted hot dogs for lunch. We drove around the cove, walked on some trails, took pictures of many deer, and tried to sneak up on groundhogs. Cades Cove is such a scenic place, open and grassy, ringed by forest and mountain ridges, and at that time there were still a few settler families that lived and farmed and had cattle there. Those families aren’t there any longer, but the old log cabins and farm buildings remain as historic demonstration sites.

We got home at dark, stoked the campfire, and decided on beef stew for dinner. It was delicious – good old Dinty Moore. It is true – things that you would never eat at home taste delicious when you’re camping! We had been warned about skunks and sure enough, several visited our campsite that night. They waddled around the campfire and our camp chairs – with us in them – and sniffed for leavings they could nibble on. They were Striped Skunks, and we could tell that each one was individually marked. Some had more white or black than the others, all with tiny black eyes, nose, and even tinier ears. They seemed to have a rolling gait as they ambled around us, since their legs are only about an inch or two long and they were fairly plump – from all those camper snacks. And they totally ignored us, obviously used to campers being in their territory, but we sat very still. It was not quite as cold, and there was a full moon to watch and even a few stars. Randy beat me to bed, the fire died down, and so did I.

Up early as usual and had a lovely breakfast of country ham and eggs and toasted bread. We decided to spend another night, so drove out again on the cove loop road, this time to take a hike to Abrams Falls. Abrams Creek meanders down through Cades Cove to the west, and eventually wends its way several miles later out of the park. We hiked about 2 1/2 miles to the falls, and along the way I finally identified a mystery bird song I’d been hearing – a Black and White Warbler. I also heard Black-throated Green Warblers and several Tufted Titmice, and watched a Blue-headed Vireo collect nesting material. I decided the hawk I had seen was a Broad-winged Hawk, and since learned it is common in that area. Randy spotted a shrew running frantically back and forth from a small hole to a place under some leaves. Frantically is their normal speed – they have a very fast metabolism – so have to eat a lot and often – usually meat! They are voracious and frequently dive under water to get food – amazing creatures.

Randy climbed up to the falls, which are about 20 feet tall – not dramatically high, but beautiful all the same. I sat in the sun on the warm rocks below and watched a frenzy of water boatmen in a still pool nearby, and snails making trails in the silt on the bottom. The creek and the falls made their watery noises, and we enjoyed our great lunch of cheese, crackers, apples and beef jerky. On the way back to the trailhead, we kept meeting people who said, “Was it worth it?” I just rolled my eyes. If I said it wasn’t, would they have turned back? I’m always reminded of the conundrum – which is more important – the journey or the destination? People miss so much just getting to their destination.

The next day we drove back to Gatlinburg and more pancakes, then headed back south across the mountains toward Cherokee, and on to the Nantahala River west of Bryson City where we watched canoers and kayakers splashing their way down the river. A few years later a trip down the Nantahala in a raft would become an annual event for our family reunions and great fun!

We drove through Franklin, N.C. and down through Sumter National Forest across the northeast corner of Georgia, crossing another piece of the Bartram Trail on beautiful country roads, ending the day at a place with showers and hot water – a Holiday Inn! We were just as glad to be inside since we had been hearing severe storm and flash flood warnings on the radio all day. In fact, the next day as I pulled off the side of the road to read a historical marker, I slid the camper on a patch of wet, red, Georgia clay down into a shallow ditch. Fortunately, a farmer on a tractor came along, hooked up a chain, and pulled us right out. Another fine example of the kindness of strangers – in the middle of nowhere of course. And I never did get to read that historical marker. Thanks for sharing a nice trip, Randy.

For some reason, when I was growing up, my family did not go camping. It may have been because when we moved from Ohio to Florida in the late 1940’s, the family car pulled a trailer, which was to be our home until Dad could build us a house. So for a couple of years we were sort of camping all the time! My mother swore that some of the first words I spoke were, “Oh, let’s have a picnic!” every time I saw a picnic table. When I grew up, I became the owner of several VW Campers over the years, and had some great adventures in them, and of course lots of picnics.
One April spring break, my son, Randy, then in high school, and I decided to go camping in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Driving north at that time of year always yields patches of bluish and yellow wildflowers blooming in the roadside swales, and I always want to pull over and find out what they are. My vehicle usually carries a mini-nature library that includes field guides on trees, wildflowers, reptiles, and birds, of course. My supplies also include binoculars, a magnifying glass, a small notebook, and a camera, which is digital nowadays. Most of the bluish flowers turned out to be Blue-eyed Grass and the yellow ones were Tickseed.
Driving through Georgia, we crossed the Altamaha River, where the botanist/naturalist William Bartram explored in the 1700’s. If you’re interested in early natural history, there are several fascinating books available about “The Travels of William Bartram”. We picnicked in a churchyard and took time to look at the old gravestones, another interest “inherited” from the same grandmother who showed me my first robin. Since I grew up in South Florida, I was especially excited to see my first blooming dogwood trees, and the air was fragrant with the aroma of wisteria and azaleas. We added Great-crested Flycatcher, Yellow-throated Warbler, Pileated Woodpecker, and Summer Tanager to the Georgia Life List.
We stopped at Magnolia Springs State Park near Millen with huge trees and nature trails. Since I hadn’t brought my recording of a Screech Owl that I used to lure small birds closer, I had to depend on Randy, who had mastered reproducing the call perfectly. He made the low wavering sound and several Ruby-crowned Kinglets zipped right over to see what the noise was – one even had a blazing ruby crown that is normally hard to see. We had a picnic at the George W. Park Seed Company near Greenwood, S.C., and enjoyed seeing all the gorgeous tulips and daffodils in bloom.

Eventually, after a drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina, we arrived at Smokemont Campground near Cherokee, on the south side of Great Smoky Mountain National Park. The campground wasn’t very crowded – it was rainy and in the 40’s, but there were still springtime birds around that had recently returned from their winter in Central and South America. We saw Black-throated Green Warblers, Black and White Warblers, Parula Warblers, Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, and Solitary Vireos – all very busy staking out territories and singing their songs to attract mates. What a great time of year that is in the mountains! For one thing, the trees haven’t leafed out yet and you can see the birds better.

The next day after driving over the mountains through fog and a light rain to the north side, we had lunch at the Pancake House in Gatlinburg – a family tradition, and then made our way to another campground in the park at Elkmont. We scrounged firewood from unoccupied campsites and Randy soon had a roaring fire going, which probably warmed us more psychologically than physically. The temperatures lowered into the 30’s that night and our down sleeping bags felt good. Next morning ham and eggs also helped warm us up, and soon we were on our way to our next campground at Cade’s Cove in the western part of the park.
To be continued.

We actually did do some real hiking in earlier days. We even had boots with lugs! And I always believed that standard equipment for any walk/stroll/hike were binoculars. One of my favorite areas  is Western North Carolina – there are so many trails in the mountains, including the famous Appalachian Trail, which stretches from Maine to Georgia. Most people who hike the AT don’t do it all in one piece, but a few days at a time or a day or two here and there, which can encompass a lifetime of hiking/strolling. I’ve managed a couple hundred miles so far, but one of the outstanding walks I remember most was a day my son, Charlie, and I decided to hike on the AT in Graham County, N.C. , from the crossroads of Tuskeegee to Stecoah Gap.

As usual, I had a small notebook with me so I could record sightings – birds mostly – and anything else I found interesting. We found tanagers, woodpeckers, warblers, juncos, kinglets, and even a grouse. We came to Wauchecha Bald with fantastic views of the lush eastern forest around us. We heard vireos calling, a broad-winged hawk whistling, great-crested flycatchers and saw lots of chipmunks, squirrels, a box turtle, and at least 3 snakes – none identified in my notes. Nearing the southern end of our walk,  we sat down near a boulder under the trees to pass the time until our ride was due to pick us up. We had our books to read (never go anywhere without a book), our snacks (never go anywhere without something to eat and drink), my notebook to sketch in, and we were prepared to pass the time pleasantly.

It began to get cloudy, and off in the distance, we could hear rain approaching through the trees, the sound progressively getting louder and louder. We frantically repacked our books and snacks, grabbed our ponchos, got everything protected in our daypacks – with the sound of falling water getting closer and closer – then slowly, gradually the sound went farther and farther away – until it was gone. We never had a drop of rain fall on us. Suddenly, there the birds were! Something magical can happen after a shower – I’m not sure if all the birds want drinks off the leaves or the rain stirs the insects among the leaves and the birds come to take advantage of easy-to-grab food, or that they just want to take a leaf bath. But there they were – dozens of birds making chip notes, moving among the leaves, fluttering wings (that was probably the bathing part), and coming closer. I managed to see indigo buntings, titmice, red-eyed vireos and some birds moving around so fast, I couldn’t identify them all. And there in front of me was a new bird – one I had never seen before – a thrill for a birder  – one you have to look up in your bird book to make sure that’s what you’re seeing. Sure enough, it was a chestnut-sided warbler – a small bird with a golden crown on its head and a beautiful chestnut-colored shoulder and sides. I was thrilled to see it and before I could close my bird book, there was another new bird coming into view – another warbler, mostly yellow underneath with an all gray back, a white ring around its eye, and a lovely necklace of black lines around its throat – a Canada warbler.

My notebook says: ” I never saw such a wave of warblers in my life – I couldn’t identify half of them! And two lifers!  Worth all the strenuous steep ups and downs of the trail.”

I was fortunate to have such a cooperative and patient trail companion with me – and he later turned into a birder himself! Thanks, Charlie!

When I was two years old, I was shipped off temporarily to my Grandmother’s house while my brother was being born.  My dear grandmother was an outdoor woman, showed me my first American Robin, and started me on the road to a love of the natural world and a life of bird adventures. I’ve recently been putting my field notes (and some of hers) and journals on my computer, and decided to share some of them with you. I hope you enjoy them.

Several years after my first robin sighting, my grandmother took us all on a walk in a woods somewhere in Ohio. We never hiked anywhere, since the whole idea was to look for things – birds, butterflies, wildflowers, rabbits – and the best way to find them was to amble or stroll or just wander around. It was an old forest as I remember, tall trees (well, I was pretty short), leaves covering the ground, and shrubs here and there. I was still young enough that my father’s warning, “Don’t hit the bushes with that stick!” went ignored and sure enough, I stirred up a hornet’s nest. They came after me – fast and stinging – with me screaming and running around, and everyone else yelling, but my wise father grabbed up a wad of mud from a damp area and slapped it on me. And boy did I swell up – not from the slapping – from the stinging. Anyhow, for several days I looked pretty weird – all swole up!

I still amble and stroll and just wander around the woods, but I do not beat the bushes anymore.