Maggie's Farm

One of our old hayfields has been over-run with Goldenrod. It makes for a pretty sight in August, but there is no hay there anymore, and the upper part is all Milkweed, to the delight of the Monarch butterflies.

Rather than trying to rehabilitate it as a hayfield by deep-plowing, re-seeding for a couple of years with red clover, and plowing again and re-seeding with good hayseed, the current low-cost plan is just to mow it every two years, and to let the animals and birds enjoy it - which they do. Don't need more hay. Sparrows, snakes, and Wild turkey like it as is. And deer, of course, by the bushel. And I have noticed that the beaver come out of the marsh to eat stuff in the meadow at night.

I have planted junipers next to the rocks, because with high growth you cannot see the rocks when you mow. Also, putting Bluebird houses on each rock, which the Tree Swallows seem to take over. Last summer I stupidly drove a tractor right up on one rock, about a 3' item I forgot about, and not only did it scare the bejesus out of me, but it also took another tractor to pull it off. Picture the front wheels of a Farmall four feet in the air, and a boulder jammed under the crankcase. Three Stooges.

Mark the rocks before you mow. A good adage in rocky Yankeeland, where glacial boulders are one of our main crops. Like measure twice, cut once.

You can see how the dang White Pines had been invading that field about 15 years ago. That process has been halted by aggressive border patrol, but it's a big job to roll it back. Cannot get a logging truck over the bridge, so it's sweat and chain saw. One step at a time. It's an excellent work out.

The wild Autumn Clematis is in full bloom all around Maggie's Farm. The highly aggressive and fast-growing wild version lacks the fragrance of the cultivated variety, often called Sweet Autumn Clematis. This one, covering a fence, has a wild morning glory growing amongst it.

A favorite of the Maggie's Farm hummingbirds, Jewelweed likes it damp and sunny. Its delicate orange flowers are in bloom right now.

August is a prime time for New England wildflowers. This little island in the stream has Joe Pye Weed, Goldenrod, Purple Loosestrife, and a white aster that I cannot identify. Plus some good-looking grasses.

We may be the only blog in the world who finds slime molds (good photos there of different varieties, including photo below) interesting. The first time you see one on the forest floor, the garden, or the edge of the lawn, you tend to think somebody spilled some poisonous orange glop from a bucket.

They are difficult to categorize: not exactly fungi, and not exactly protista, but probably more like protista - eg animals. Their colony creeps around slowly, munching on bacteria, and when they run out of food, they creep into the sun and form spores, and wait.

There is new science on how this thing adjusts to changing conditions.

From a piece by Roy Spencer in TCS, A Little Eco-Nomics Never Hurt:

The dangerous illusion underpinning many environmental efforts is that it is both possible and preferable to keep pushing toward a 100 percent clean and safe existence. Those of us who try to point out that there are practical limits to cleanliness and safety are immediately branded as shills for big business. Meanwhile, environmentalists and politicians get to hold the high ground of altruism and concern for the public's interest.

P.J. O'Rourke once said, "Some people will do anything to save the Earth...except take a science course." To that I would add, "...or a basic economics course". If for a reasonable cost we can remove 98 percent of the contaminants in our drinking water and make it quite safe, is it then a good idea to spend ten times as much to push that purity from 98 percent to 99 percent?

In the real world, there are only limited resources to accomplish everything we want to do, and resources diverted to wasteful ends are no longer available to tackle more pressing problems. Only in the imaginary world of the environmental lobbyist, pandering politician, or concerned journalist is it a public service to keep pushing toward 100 percent purity.

One of our favorite movies of all
time has given its name to a
Hosta.

As amateur hosta collectors, we gotta get this one. How cool is that? Almost looks like rhubarb.

Wayside has it. Red October.

Maggie's Farm readers know how fond we are of Box Turtles and Wood Turtles - two woodland species which can be found in New England, and both under extreme population pressure in these parts - essentially endangered.

When we see them, we tend to see the Box in the shady woods, and the Wood Turtle in the streams, but our pup finds the Wood Turtle in the wet pasture too.

We train our dogs to bark at them, but to never pick them up. The first time they find one, we give them heck with the shock collar and they learn that these turtles are radioactive.

My introduction to the charming Box Turtle was at the Massachusetts Audubon Society sanctuary in Wellfleet as a kid. Cape Cod was full of Box Turtles then. Many fewer now, due to cars and dogs and coyotes - and the northward march of raccoons.

Why does the subject come up? Tuesday night, with lightning flashing all around and rumbling thunder in the distance, I took an evening stroll with the flashlight, and stumbled on a Box Turtle digging a hole for her eggs in a sandy patch surrounded by oaks, not far from the marsh. Slow and steady. I have never seen this before.

My first thought was "Wish I had my camera," but my second thought was "Why photograph everything?" It makes it no more real, and this is a special sight, a real gift from nature. So I turned my light away, and left her alone to her arduous task.

Image of a box turtle digging a nest hole, in daylight, from Univ of Ga.

This very large crested Woody Woodpecker-looking bird was extremely scarce in New England during the 50s and 60s, but they have become more common in recent years as the farmlands return to woodlands. Their numbers have always been stable in the South, I believe.

I often see them hanging around dead trees where beavers have flooded woods. The loud kuk kuk kuk call announces their presence, and the large rectangular holes they chip in trees, looking for bugs, lets you know that they are around.

More about the wonderful Pileated here at CLO. Image borrowed from the excellent CLO website.

I have rarely seen a tree with as many Pileated holes as the one below, from this photographer's website.  Interesting to see the old, healed Pileated holes in the Hemlock immediately behind.

On rainy days like today, our local Box Turtles come out of hiding and gather 'round. I throw them strawberries or tomatoes, and they are grateful. Such cheerful, gentle, pleasant reptiles. They even look up at you, as if to ask for more. They go nuts over a nectarine, but who doesn't?

Jones Beach, on the south shore of Long Island (Atlantic), receives more visitors annually than Yellowstone and Yosemite combined.

Humans do like beaches. It's a big one, and a fine birding spot during the fall and winter. It's New York City's beach - the people's back yard, and one of the world's great beaches.

And no condos and no shops - the narrow barrier island is a 2400-acre NY State Park. It has some remarkable heron and egret rookeries. In winter, it's good for Snowy Owls, Rough-legged hawks, Gannets, Bonaparte's and other interesting or rare gulls, the occasional alcid (murres, razorbills, and auks), and plenty of Harbor Seals in the surf, which, at first, you think is someone's Lab taking a swim - until they dive. Plenty of Myrtle Warblers over-wintering on the bayberries.

But in the summer, it is Coppertone time - time to strut your good stuff - and no-one is stalking through the scrub and poison ivy looking for birds of the feathered variety.

Photo from the above link.

The Downy Woodpecker comes to mind today because they have a nest outside my front door, in a hole in a big old sugar maple, and the endless and almost annoying, rhythmic squeak squeak squeak of the hungry babies sounds exactly like a bad fan belt.

Found across the entire US and most of Canada, these cute little bug-eaters are far more common than the Hairy Woodpecker, its big brother, and is non-migratory.

More about the Downy here, at CLO. Photo borrowed from CLO.

Maggie's Farm remains a "Marauding Marsupial" in the Truth Laid Bear ecosystem. We'd love to move to the next step up to reinforce our fragile egos, but I am not certain that we deserve to. Maybe we are destined to be an elite, boutique blog for our discriminating high IQ, irony-minded six few readers, but there is a mass-market dream hidden deep inside of us.

The Wombat can be a marauding marsupial at times, but he tends to be fairly agreeable unless he feels attacked or happens to be in a grumpy mood. A charging wombat can knock over a man and tear a big hole in him. Maybe Maggie's Farm is a Wombat.

I hear a song in my head: "Wombats in the Snow," to the tune of "Strangers in the Night."

Anyway - do us a favor. Send our blog to all of your friends, relatives, colleagues and enemies. We want - and deserve, 100,000 readers per day - visitors, not hits. We have tons of "hits," and do not need more "hits" looking for Farm P*rn: we are a clean-cut blog and not one of us has ever had a mean, ugly, dirty, angry, perverted, lascivious, schadenfreudenous, illegal, adulterous, covetous, larcenous, or mean-spirited thought - ever. We are as pure as the driven snow upon which the Wombat poops in the Australian winter which, perversely, arrives in the summer. (What a mixed-up country they are, down on the bottom of the planet, where their floors are roofs and vice versa. How can they think, standing upside-down? And how come they don't fall off? Do they wear magnets in their shoes? Keep those magnets on your boots, Aussies! You are the only sane friends left in this crazy world.)

We all learned about it in High School, but we can easily forget, when we see the amazing blooms of early June, that we are looking at the personal, private, and always fascinating sex organs of angiosperm plants. They do not hide them in shame or modesty, do they? Not at all: like lovely young women, they just want to be fertilized. Details here. (Every time I label something as "Farm P*rn", we get a ton of hits from perverts around the world. I find it amusing. No doubt I add to their frustration. On the downside, it gets us blocked by the Merrill Lynch censorship system, so our Merrill friends cannot catch up with Maggie's Farm at work.)

I rely on the guys at Junk Science, who have no axes to grind, to detect the flaws in the ways in which scientific information is presented. Here are his conclusions in an excellent piece on climate and air chemistry:

What are the take-home messages:

• The temperature effect of atmospheric carbon dioxide is logarithmic, not exponential.
• The potential planetary warming from a doubling of atmospheric carbon dioxide from pre-Industrial Revolution levels of ~280ppmv to 560ppmv (possible some time later this century - perhaps) is generally estimated at less than 1 °C.
• The guesses of significantly larger warming are dependent on "feedback" (supplementary) mechanisms programmed into climate models. The existence of these "feedback" mechanisms is uncertain and the cumulative sign of which is unknown (they may add to warming from increased atmospheric carbon dioxide or, equally likely, might suppress it).
• The total warming since measurements have been attempted is thought to be about 0.6 degrees Centigrade. At least half of the estimated temperature increment occurred before 1950, prior to significant change in atmospheric carbon dioxide levels. Assuming the unlikely case that all the natural drivers of planetary temperature change ceased to operate at the time of measured atmospheric change then a 30% increment in atmospheric carbon dioxide caused about one-third of one degree temperature increment since and thus provides empirical support for less than one degree increment due to a doubling of atmospheric carbon dioxide.
• There is no linear relationship between atmospheric carbon dioxide change and global mean temperature or global mean temperature trend -- global mean temperature has both risen and fallen during the period atmospheric carbon dioxide has been rising.
• The natural world has tolerated greater than one-degree fluctuations in mean temperature during the relatively recent past and thus current changes are within the range of natural variation. (See, for example, ice core and sea surface temperature reconstructions.)
• Other anthropogenic effects are vastly more important, at least on local and regional scales.
• Fixation on atmospheric carbon dioxide is a distraction from these more important anthropogenic effects.
• Despite attempts to label atmospheric carbon dioxide a "pollutant" it is, in fact, an essential trace gas, the increasing abundance of which is a bonus for the bulk of the biosphere.
• There is no reason to believe that slightly lower temperatures are somehow preferable to slightly higher temperatures - there is no known "optimal" nor any known means of knowingly and predictably adjusting some sort of planetary thermostat.
• Fluctuations in atmospheric carbon dioxide are of little relevance in the short to medium term (although should levels fall too low it could prove problematic in the longer-term).
• Activists and zealots constantly shrilling over atmospheric carbon dioxide are misdirecting attention and effort from real and potentially addressable local, regional and planetary problems.

Read the whole thing: link above.

The names of warblers have been changed like crazy over the past few years. This little guy with his raccoon-eyes is now the Common Yellowthroat - not to be confused with the Yellow-throated Warbler, which is rare.

We are now at the end of the warbler migration, as these tiny jewels illegally migrate from Central and South America to their breeding grounds in the north. This common warbler loves to skulk in thick underbrush, especially near water, but his loud, penetrating song gives him away.

Song, and info, here at CLO.

North America's Northern Harrier, aka Harrier, aka Marsh Hawk, is one of my favorite birds, because he dwells in my favorite sorts of places. I am happy wherever the Harrier is happy.

He likes vast marshes and fields, where he tilts around very low, hunting small birds and rodents. He is never in the woods. 

Many a duck hunter has had one silently swing over their duck blind, six feet over your head, and reflexively raised the gun before making the ID. Never shoot one: forget illegal - it's plain wrong. For fun, you can draw them in by making a squeaking sound - like owls, they can hear well. And while you are busy fooling with the Marsh Hawk, no doubt a flock of Bluebills will pass over your decoys while you are distracted - it never fails.

The males and females are very different in coloration, but the white rump, and the behavior, are the easy diagnostic points.

With draining of marshes, and the reduction of farmlands in the East, their numbers are down. But in Britain, the essentially identical bird was almost extinct, but now happily making a comeback.

More about the Northern Harrier here at CLO. I still call them Marsh Hawks.

Photo courtesy of P. LaTourette.

When Lincoln, with his son Tad, was taking the Presidential train back from Richmond following the fall of Richmond in April, 1865, shortly before his assassination, he saw a Box Turtle sunning near the tracks. He had the train stopped, and went out and played with the turtle with Tad for a while before re-boarding the train.

Anyone who likes Box Turtles is OK with us. They are coming out of hibernation now, hungry, and looking for mates. Don't run them over, and help them across the road. And don't take them home - they don't work as pets, and they like their home territory.

How do I know they are awake? Saw my first one of our local colony, taking the sun yesterday morning. Funny how they always look cheerful.

America's favorite ground cover, second only to asphalt. It sure does beat grass, because it doesn't get weeds, doesn't need watering, is happy with deep shade, is evergreen, is tough as hell, and doesn't need to be mown. It is an import from Japan.

It's coming into bloom right now, around here. The early-waking bees love those flowers.

Why a curse?  Did you ever try to remove a bed of pachysandra? It's like cleaning terrorists out of Baghdad, except they don't shoot back.

It is the beginning of Forsythia season in Yankeeland.

Last chance to put in your orders:

   A great source for native plantings on a large scale: Musser Forests
   A great source for fruits and berries, and miscellaneous: Miller Nurseries
   The premier place for perennials: White Flower Farm
   Great source for unusual varieties: Wayside Gardens