My work is seldom boring. Sure, there is plenty of repetition in what I do. But there is something different about every patch of woods. Sometimes it’s the trees themselves. Sometimes it’s the terrain or access. Sometimes it’s the weather. Sometimes it’s the critters. Sometimes it’s the neighbors.
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Last Saturday morning I made the 50 mile drive from my house to begin my latest project, which would require three days of field work. On this first day, I would hang up flagging to mark stream buffers, taking GPS points along the way in order to create a useful map.
Armed with maps and an aerial photo, I found the land easily. It was hard to miss, having paved roads on two sides and a river on another side. One road was a state highway with a bridge over the river. The other road dead-ended at the river bank. I decided to park on the latter road because it wouldn’t have much traffic. Where the road met the river, a line of No Parking signs stood to deter visitors from crossing private land to get to the river. I found a spot next to one of those signs where the shoulder was wide enough that I could park on my client’s land instead of the road right-of-way.
I had barely put by boots on when here came a neighbor. “You’re trespassing” were the first words he uttered, when he was still a good hundred feet away.
“I’m here to cruise Mr. B’s timber.”
“What do you mean, cruise his timber?”
“He is going to cut some of his trees, and I’m here to make an estimate of what he has.” I proceeded to show him the aerial photo with the property outlined on it, and he agreed that my truck was indeed on Mr. B’s land.
“Well, you can’t park here. We have teenagers and fishermen park here all the time. I chase all of them away.”
“The first thing I have to do is mark a stream buffer along the river, so that no trees are cut there. This is where I need to start.”
“I have a signed affidavit from Mr. B, and he says that only 3 people can come on his land. I’m supposed to run everybody else off. I’m going to call him and tell him that you’re trespassing.”
“Go ahead and call him. And you see that I left my business card in the truck window. You can tell him exactly who I am.”
“You need to park somewhere else.”
“I’m not on the road right-of-way; I’m on Mr. B’s land, and I have his permission to be here. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
“You’re parked in front of my f---ing house!”
Actually, I was across the street from his f---ing house, on someone else’s land. And I wasn’t budging. The circular logic continued:
“That land is posted. You can’t go onto posted property!”
“That’s pretty much my job description, to go onto posted land and work all day. And I’ll be out here two more days next week. You’ll probably see me again.”
And off I went, into the Deep Dark Woods.
In order to lay out a 200 foot wide buffer, I had to periodically wander back and forth to the river, measuring distance with a rangefinder. I'd occasionally spool off a length of flagging and tie it to a limb. When the loggers show up, they find a clear boundary that they cannot cross.
Knowing that there were interesting things to see, I carried my camera. All images are in lightbox mode. Some, however, were taken with my phone and will be grainy when enlarged.
Being along what's known as the Fall Line, the river flows over rocky outcrops. Mountain laurel (Kalmia latifolia) is ready to bloom.
A boulder and a sweetgum tree engage in a timeless battle for the same space.
Up on the hillside, I found mountain laurel in full bloom.
A couple hours into my work, I became aware of a certain gnawing sensation. No, I wasn’t worrying about the cranky neighbor; I was feeling a tick inserting its jaws into my skin. I scraped it off with a fingernail and kept working. A bit later, another tick. And there were biting flies, too. Then I started coughing.
Even though it had rained two days previously, I was stirring up dust whenever I walked through any underbrush. Eventually I concluded that it was oak pollen, because it was most concentrated where oaks were present (look closely at the mountain laurel leaves, and you will see some of the stuff). I had to drink lots of fluids to keep from choking.
This box turtle didn't seem to mind the dust and pollen.
All in all, though, it was a decent day. The temperature was just right, and the land along the river was interesting. But I ended up finding nine ticks.
On Monday I returned to begin the “cruise,” the tree measurement phase of the job. Even though I had sprayed permethrin on my pants and socks, I was constantly finding ticks. A few managed to begin biting, but I discovered most of them on my clothing. The day’s final count was 42, including 4 that I found at home after taking a shower. Tricky devils, those ticks!
I recently posted a picture of a rain lily (Zephyranthes atamasca). Normally the flowers have six petals. This one is an overachiever.
Tiger beetles never let you get very close. The muscadine leaves were waving in the gentle breeze, and the beetle took off when I stepped within about ten feet. This was the best image I could get.
One hazard in the category of "rare but potentially deadly" is falling trees and limbs. A dead tree broke up and fell against this sourwood tree. The sourwood suffered some loss of bark, and leans more than it used to. A human would not have fared as well.
Snake porn!!!
No matter how pretty that balloon looks when you have it in your hands, it becomes litter the moment you let go of the string. I saw four of these in three days' time. Happy Birthday, Mother Nature!
Many hardwood trees sprout from old stumps or fallen trees, rather than originating from seed. This green ash either grew around a stump, or had a twin that didn't make it. Hopefully the emerald ash borers will leave it alone.
Unidentified mushroom on log.
That's my woodsy adventure. I didn't cross paths again with the Old Man Down the Road, but a certain song kept going through my head.
The floor's open. As always, feel free to add your own comments and observations.
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