Several years ago, I decided that Mother's Day is for hiking, on the theory that my then-whiny kids would be least likely to moan and whine on that day; other mothers might lounge around with breakfast in bed, but I always want to be outside. I pick an age-appropriate trail, try not to wince at their idea of trail mix (gummy worms, M&Ms, and jelly beans, anyone?), and head out.
Before you start rolling your eyes at yet-another-cute-kids-story, this diary isn't about kids, it's about a vernal pool.
Vernal pools, a kind of wetland, are ephemeral springtime pools: they fill with water during winter and spring rains, then dry up during the summer. You might think of them as nothing more than neighborhood mudhole nuisances, but they're an important part of nature. Specifically, they nurture animals that need water for part of their lives, e.g., amphibians, who prefer not to compete with fish (fish don't survive long in vernal pools, for obvious reasons). John Muir described the San Joaquin Valley of California, pre-ranchers and irrigation, as:
Sauntering in any direction, my feet would brush about a hundred flowers with every step... as if I were wading in liquid gold.
Many vernal pools are were located in the eastern San Joaquin Valley, below the Sierras, which means that ranchers and farmers have ruined most of them. However, they're not limited to California; Frog Pond in Orono, Maine is well known.
One year I took the kids to China Flat, a short-but-steep local hike up these hills (look closely to see the trail zigging and zagging): At the ridge (and the National Park Service boundary), we entered another world. Two trail miles behind us and 1250 feet straight down, red-roofed condominiums and McMansions. In front of us, what all of California used to be: grassy meadows, groves of ancient oaks, gently rolling hills, an abundant wilderness stretching as far as the eye can see. The land was boundless, lush, welcoming. We wandered through animal use trails, along a muddy stream, through the knee-high grasses, past wildflowers.
Boys being boys, they were more interested in the frog that hopped across their path than the orange monkeyflower and purple iris species. They chased the frog until it disappeared. Then another frog appeared on the sort-of-path. They chased that one. Then another. Pretty soon, they saw a small pond, and more frogs. By the time we got to that pond, the frogs were every three inches on the ground, as plentiful as autumn leaves after a windstorm. You could not walk without stepping on a frog! And, the boys found out, if you couldn't catch a frog, you could catch the next one. And the next one. And the next one. I told the boys to let them go.
As we headed down the trail, my then-seven-year-old son seemed to be walking strangely. He wouldn't sit down for water breaks. His pockets bulged, which I put down to rock-gathering. He poured water on his shorts, which I put down to clumsiness. Until we got home, and he took a frog out of his pocket. It hopped away into our garden. Another frog came out. Then another, and another, and...he'd taken 40 frogs home in his pockets! Amazingly, 37 of those 40 survived the hike in his pants. We put out a water dish and let them go into our garden, where they continued to sing a full year after.
The following Mother's Day, we went back, this time prepared with a water bottle to hold them, but the rains had been sparse that year and the pond was dry.
I've made a point of hiking that trail every spring, either Easter or Mother's Day. Every year it's a little different, depending on the rains and whether we've had early spring heat. One rainy year I saw no frogs, but two very happy and well fed snakes swimming in the pond. Some years the vernal pool is just a muddy puddle with clusters of ducks, insects, and flowers. I suspect it's a very nice motel for migrating birds and butterflies. I know it's a great place to observe a local treasure while thanking the national system of protection of wild places.
This year we returned on Easter. The weather was perfect, and the sense of sheer space was breathtaking (even if a few of those red roofs snuck into the western view).
We stopped at a cave, really just an outcropping of sandstone.
Near the top of China Flat, I started looking for the vernal pool. I knew that it would be on our right, hidden behind the ridge and just past the oak trees:
But when we got there, it was just a dry mudhole!
On the way back, we found a beehive. I am exceedingly pleased to report that my now-15-year-old son did not attempt to carry any bees home in his pockets. Ahh, maturity!
Vernal pools are just one of the many reasons to get outside, take a hike during springtime, and explore your world. If you're hiking to stay fit, check in Saturday mornings, where KKMama has valiantly picked up the Get Fit Challenge, or Fitness Mondays. And for a poetic diary on spring in a colder climate, check out Muskegon Critic's The Defiance of Tree Frogs.