The Rock Pigeons at Rock House...

Back in October, we took a trip to Hocking Hills State Park in southeast Ohio. The park is only two hours from Cincinnati and offers wonderful hiking and spectacular scenery. Rock House is one of the caves in the park. Located halfway up a 150-foot wall of blackhand sandstone, the true cave has a 25-foot high ceiling, is about 30 feet wide, and is 200 feet long...but even better, it is home to a beautiful flock of Rock Pigeons....

A Rock House Rock Pigeon!

Rock Pigeons are city birds, right? So the last thing I expected to see when I stepped into the long dark tunnel deep in the woods was pigeons...but I shouldn't have been surprised. Originally, before humans came along and built cities, Rock Pigeons lived in crevices and caves on coastal rock walls and cliffs in Europe, North Africa and parts of Asia. European colonists brought them to North America in the 1600s. Their name reflects their native habitat, so it was especially fun to find them living in the wild!

The trail leading to the Rock House is beautiful. 

Inside Rock House looking out. The pigeons would fly in and out through this opening in the cave. Birds roosted in the many crevices and cracks on the wall outside the cave as well as those inside. 

The birds would fly in and out of the cave, and I loved listening to their cooing and the constant flutter of their wings as they flew from roosting spot to roosting spot.

This fellow is above me on a ledge inside the cave. If I would look to my right, I would see out of the opening in the photo above. Eventually this pigeon flew outside while another flew back in.

Love those pink feet!

This small rectangular reservoir was carved into the sandstone by Native Americans. They would use it to collect water. Now the pigeons used it for drinking and bathing (see the video at the end of the post). 

A view out of the opening opposite the back cave wall where the birds were. This opening looks a little like a bird... 

Rock House video
Click here to watch the "Naturally Ohio: Rock House" video. It was made by the Ohio Public Broadcasting Station, and Pat Quackenbush, an ODNR Naturalist, is the narrator. Pat takes you on a tour of the trail and explains the flora, fauna and history of the Rock House. It's only 20 minutes, and it's really good!

Can pigeons diagnose cancer?
Click here for the article "Can Pigeons Really Diagnose Cancer? A new study says yes, but you're not likely to see them in lab coats anytime soon," written by Hannah Waters on the Audubon web site to learn about pigeons' ability to identify and sort visual patterns, including cancer cell patterns and healthy cell patterns. It can recognize all 26 letters in the alphabet, as well as different faces in photos.

The domestication of the Rock Pigeon
Click here to read about the earliest encounters of man with the Rock Pigeon. The first art appears in Mesopotamian cuneiform tablets dating back over 5000 years ago, but it's more likely the pigeon was domesticated by Neolithic man over 10,0000 years ago in the area near the Tigris and Euphrates rivers when humans started cultivating grains. In prehistoric times, Rock Pigeons probably lived with man in caves and in the crevices on the surrounding rock walls and cliffs.

A unique way of drinking water
Pigeons and doves drink water by using their bills like a straw, sucking water in while their bill is still immersed in the water. Most birds take a sip and toss their head back so the water flows down their throat. The following video is dark and poor quality (taken in a cave with my cell phone), but you can see the pigeon sucking up the water through its bill...

A Rock Pigeon drinking water at the Rock House from Kelly Riccetti on Vimeo.

Lincoln's Sparrow in Hocking Hills...

Rick, Matty and I, my brother, sis-in-law and my niece, and my parents all went to Hocking Hills in southeast Ohio last weekend. It was another of our fall trips. We started the tradition back when the kids were tiny little things, and we've kept it up through the years. Now the kids are juniors in college, and the tradition continues. This year we settled on Hocking Hills (an easy 2.5 hr drive) and rented an 8-bedroom "cabin" about 30 minutes away from the action of Old Man's Cave, Rock House, horseback riding, etc. I'm glad we did, because the cabin came with 30 or 40 acres to explore. It had a pond edged in cattails, scrubby fields, wet thickets, brush piles, a small stream in a small gorge, and even a few boggy areas, all of which add up to perfect territory for migrating Lincoln's Sparrows...

A beautiful fall Lincoln's Sparrow perches in a Sycamore sapling along the cattail edges of the pond.

We didn't know what the cabin would look like or what type of land would be around it, so I was really excited when we drove up the long, crunchy gravel drive and saw what was there. Basically, nothing. We were isolated from other people and cabins, which was wonderful! It was so nice to look out and see only trees and fields (my brother booked the cabin and did a great job!). In the back of my mind, I knew Lincoln's Sparrows were at the height of their fall migration through our state, and I was hoping to photograph one. Lincoln's Sparrows are shy birds, so they don't hang out where there is a lot of human activity, which made our lonely little cabin in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains a perfect location. The dashing little bird had always eluded my camera lens, so if ever I was going to be able to photograph one, this would be it.

Mr. Lincoln, you are a grand bird. The fine streaking and buff coloring sets this bird apart from other sparrows...especially song sparrows, which were all around me in the field.

I can't remember who asked...it might have been my mom, but someone wanted to know if the bird was named after President Lincoln. I didn't know, so I looked it up. It wasn't. It was named after Thomas Lincoln (1812 - 1883).  At the time, Thomas Lincoln was 21. He and 4 other young men, including Audubon's son, accompanied Audubon on the 1833 Labrador Expedition. Lincoln shot the bird for Audubon to paint for his The Birds of America book. Audubon named the bird after him, at first calling it "Tom's Finch."

Look at that jaunty little cap on his head trimmed with two chestnut stripes (lateral crown stripes), each streaked with black. That's one of the first things I look at when identifying a Lincoln's Sparrow. The black streaking on the head, and the fine dark brown and black streaks on the buff-colored chest and flanks.

A Lincoln's Sparrow in the morning light. 

Audubon's 1833 Labrador Expedition
On June 6, 1833, Audubon, his youngest son, John Woodhouse Audubon, Thomas Lincoln, William Ingalls, George Shattuck, and Joseph Coolidge (sometimes spelled Collide) set out from Eastport, Maine on the schooner "Ripley" commanded by Captain Emery. The trip was a collecting expedition with an emphasis on northern waterbirds for The Birds of America. They returned to Eastport on August 31, 1833. Click here for a map and timeline that shows the routes they took to and from Labrador. This map appears in the article, "Parts Unknown: Audubon's 1833 Labrador Expedition on the Ripley," and is on the Audubon website in "Audubon's Aviary, The Final Flight." The article contains a lot of other interesting historical information, e.g., in a letter Audubon wrote to his son Victor Gifford, we learn:

"I have chartered a schooner called the ‘Ripley,’ commanded by Captain Emery. . . . only a year old, of 106 tons, for which we pay three hundred and fifty dollars per month for the entire use of the vessel with the men. . . .”

While preparing for this expedition, Audubon suffered a stroke in March of 1833. He recovered quickly and continued with the preparations for the trip. For a personal account of the 1833 Labrador Expedition, click here for the pdf of an article from The Auk, Vol. 27, No. 1 (Jan., 1910), pp. 42-52, titled, "Audubon's Labrador Trip of 1833," by Ruthven Deane. In 1903 Deane interviewed Dr. William Ingalls, who was in his 90s and the last surviving member of the party. The article contains a letter written by Ingalls to Deane describing their trip.

Audubon's description of the Lincoln's Sparrow in Labrador
If you go to the Audubon website, you have access to all of the birds and the text from Audubon's great work of art, The Birds of America. Click here for the link. Lincoln's Sparrow is Plate 193, and the text that accompanies it is from the 1833 Labrador Expedition. I always love reading the original text. Here are a few of my favorite experts (click here for the entire text):

"We had been in Labrador nearly three weeks before this Finch was discovered. One morning while the sun was doing his best to enliven the gloomy aspect of the country, I chanced to enter one of those singular small valleys here and there to be seen. The beautiful verdure of the vegetation, the numerous flowers that grew sprinkled over the ground, the half-smothered pipings of some frogs, and the multitudes of mosquitoes and flies of various sorts, seemed to belong to a region very different from any that I had previously explored. But if the view of this favoured spot was pleasing to my eye, how much more to my ear were the sweet notes of this bird as they came thrilling on the sense, surpassing in vigour those of any American Finch with which I am acquainted, and forming a song which seemed a compound of those of the Canary and Wood-lark of Europe. I immediately shouted to my companions, who were not far distant. They came, and we all followed the songster as it flitted from one bush to another to evade our pursuit. No sooner would it alight than it renewed its song; but we found more wildness in this species than in any other inhabiting the same country, and it was with difficulty that we at last procured it. Chance placed my young companion, THOMAS LINCOLN, in a situation where he saw it alight within shot, and with his usual unerring aim, he cut short its career. On seizing it, I found it to be a species which I had not previously seen; and, supposing it to be new, I named it Tom's Finch, in honour of our friend LINCOLN, who was a great favourite among us. Three cheers were given him, when, proud of the prize, I returned to the vessel to draw it, while my son and his companions continued to search for other specimens." 

"The habits of this sweet songster resemble those of the Song Sparrow. Like it, mounted on the topmost twig of the tallest shrub or tree it can find, it chants for hours; or, diving into the thickets, it hops from branch to branch, until it reaches the ground, in search of those insects and berries from which it derives its support. It moves swiftly off when it discovers an enemy; and, if forced to take wing, flies low and rapidly to some considerable distance, jerking its tail as it proceeds, and throwing itself at the foot of the thickest bush it meets. I found it mostly near streams, and always in the small valleys, guarded from the cold winds so prevalent in the country, and which now and then nip the vegetation, and destroy many of the more delicate birds."

Our fall trips
This was a wonderful fall trip. The weather was perfect, the leaves were starting to change, and the birds were fantastic. From horseback riding, to hiking, to looking up at the Milky Way while listening to coyotes, I loved every minute with my family and want to go back...soon! There is a lot to see in Hocking Hills, and a day and a half is not enough time. Click here for highlights from a few of our earlier trips.

Smooth Sumac in Kentucky

...but first a quick update! A lot of you have written me to ask where I've been because I haven't posted since August! I'm here and well, but I was knee deep in a house remodel. We've redone our first floor...all the wood floors were stripped, sanded, stained, etc., walls were knocked down, a staircase pulled out and a new one put in, and finally painting. During it all my library/home office has been packed up, and my computer hauled to work. There was so much to do that poor little Red suffered. Yesterday we were able to put part of my office together, so I thought I'd try to write a quick post. (My cousin, Curg, wrote me earlier today that he is sick of seeing the hummingbird in the previous post. He needs new nature material, and he needs it now, so this one is for you, Curg!)

Autumn color for us, and winter food for the birds...
Last week Matty was on a short fall break, so we headed down to Blue Licks State Park in Kentucky with my parents. The trees were gorgeous, the weather was perfect, and it was incredibly relaxing to be out in the woods. I didn't bring my camera with me because everything was packed up, and I just wanted to spend time with my family, but I was able to get a few nice shots with my cell phone. Nothing beats the reds of autumn...

Smooth Sumac (Rhus glabra) berries glow red in the field. 

A colony of Smooth Sumac was growing in an open field along the Savannah trail, and the bright red leaves and the deep red berries (drupes) were eye catching, so we stopped to take a closer look. I posted on Staghorn Sumac last November, which looks very similar to Smooth Sumac. A clue to telling them apart is in their name. The branches on Smooth Sumac are smooth, while the branches on Staghorn Sumac are furry like the antlers on a stag when "in velvet." Smooth Sumac is a little smaller as well, and its range extends further south. In Ohio, we have both. I love seeing any type of sumac in the wild, because I know winter birds will have emergency food waiting for them this winter. (Click here for the post "Staghorn Sumac is for the birds..." to learn how these plants help birds survive the coldest days of winter and early spring when other food is scarce.)

Both Smooth and Staghorn Sumac are native to Ohio, and both offer stores of food for the birds in the dead of winter when the "tastier" berries have all been consumed.

Smooth Sumac brightens any field, especially in fall when its leaves turn a brilliant red.

Note: 
Smooth Sumac, like Staghorn Sumac is not Poison Sumac. It is a wetland species and has white berries and smooth leaves. Click here and here for more info on Poison Sumac.

Katydid...Katydidn't in the Great Smoky Mountains

Last week Rick, Matty and I, my parents, and my brother, sis-in-law and niece all headed down to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee. It was our annual fall trip, and we were looking for a little adventure. Unfortunately, the park was closed due to the government shutdown, but we still had fun and saw many beautiful sights in other locations. Our cabin was high on a mountain in the woods, and the view alone was worth the trip. One afternoon I was sitting on the deck reading, when I looked up and directly in front of me was a katydid. The sunlight was backlighting her, so I went in to grab my camera. She stuck around, and I was able to get a few photos...

Katydids have very long and thin antenna. It's one way to tell the difference between a grasshopper (which has a much shorter antenna) and a katydid. The katydid's long antenna size is why it's called a "long-horned grasshopper." Click here to see the shorter antennas of a grasshopper.

Before writing this post, I didn't know much about katydids. A green bug that looked like a leaf and had a song that sounded like its name was all that would come to mind. So after looking at my photos, I had to get out my favorite insect books to learn a little more. "The Songs of Insects" by Lang Elliott and Wil Hershberger has fantastic photos that are great for ID. I've learned a lot from it, and it focuses on crickets, katydids and grasshoppers, so I took it out. The next book I grabbed is called "The Grasshopper Book" by Wilfrid S. Bronson. Published in 1943, Bronson wrote the book for children and did all of the illustrations himself. I love the older language, the detailed drawings, and the humor he inserted throughout the text. I also got out my favorite all-around insect book, the "Kaufman Field Guide to Insects of North America," by Eric R. Eaton and Kenn Kaufman. After going through these books, I quickly learned there's more to katydids than just their green leaf-like wings!

Katydids are chewers and have powerful mouth parts to eat leaves. They can even bite into little berries. Chewing insects use maxilla (located on each side of the face) to help manipulate food. When an insect lowers them and starts moving them around, they look like tiny robot arms gathering up food. It's very cool to watch. Additionally, because katydids have powerful mandibles and mouthparts, they can bite (Bronson, pg 79)! 

Katydid "chewing" on wood post from Kelly Riccetti on Vimeo. You can see her moving her maxilla around searching for food.

Female katydids have an ovipositor (or egg placer). The size and shape of the ovipositor is a good way to identify different species. Due to the curved shape and darker color of this female's ovipositor, I think this is a Fork-tailed Bush Katydid. This species is very common and found throughout the United States (Elliot and Hershberger, pg 159).

Ovipositors are specialized for each species of katydid, and different species use them in different ways. While reading "The Grasshopper Book," I learned female Fork-tailed Bush Katydids chew off a small part of the edge of a leaf, and then use their mouthparts to guide the ovipositor to the chewed-off edge to slice through the two layers of epidermis and deposit super-thin, flat eggs (Bronson, pg 85). What? How is that possible...leaves are so thin! I wondered if there was a photo of that on the web, so I did a quick search.  Sure enough, I found a photo...and even a video. Click here to go to "The Smaller Majority" blog and see how a female bush katydid deposits her eggs (ovipositing) between the two layers of epidermis in a leaf.

The little hole on each of the katydid's front legs is the katydid's ear (tympanum).

Where do you find a katydid's ears? Don't look on their heads, try their forelegs instead!  When I was looking at a few of the close-up photos I took of the katydid, I noticed a small hole or slit on each front leg. It looked like a tiny scar, and I wondered what it was. Once again, Bronson came to the rescue by mentioning that the "slit in each front shin" contains the katydid's hearing apparatus (Bronson, pg 79). If you want to learn more about the katydid's ear structure, which is very similar to mammals, click here.   

One more thing...katydids got their name because their song often sounds like "katydid...katydidn't," but not all species of katydids get to sing out their name. The Fork-tailed Bush Katydid in this post has a "tsip" song or a high-pitched tick (Elliot and Hershberger, 158). There is always something new to learn about nature. It seems every time I lift my camera and focus, Mother Nature sends me another surprise!

The beautiful common persimmon...tasty and it can predict the weather too!

Common Persimmons (Diospyros virginiana) are such exotic-looking little fruits. They ripen late in the season, slowly turning a pale orange and then darkening to the burnt orange of harvest...

An almost-ripe common persimmon clings to the branch in the cool autumn air... 

...but don't be tempted to pluck one off the tree and just bite into it. Start with just a tiny taste to make sure it's ripe. Unripe persimmons  are horribly astringent and will suck all the moisture out of your mouth. Descriptors such as "furry," "bitter," "horrible," "god-awful," or just plain "puckery" are common. The best description of all, however, goes to Captain John Smith of the Jamestown colony. In 1612 he wrote, "If it be not ripe, it will drawe a man's mouth awrie, with much torment; but when it is ripe, it is as delicious as an Apricock." If that isn't enough, also in 1612, William Strachey, who wrote Historie of Travell into Virginia Britania, also talked about the lovely fruit and said, "...when they are not fully ripe, they are harsh and choakie, and furre a man's mouth like allam...." This little fruit definitely makes an impression (source: an in-depth article on the history of the common persimmon in the New World, click here for the .pdf of "The common persimmon (Diospyros virginiana L.): The history of an underutilized fruit tree (16th-19th centuries)," by C. H. Briand.)

...beautiful autumn leaves and apricot-colored persimmons from October 13, 2012 at Greenbo Lake State Park in Kentucky.

Why are persimmons so astringent when unripe?
Persimmons, whether ripe or unripe contain tannins, which are naturally occurring chemicals that "bind and precipitate proteins" (click here for a detailed description of tannins by Cornell University). When persimmons are unripe, the tannins are diffused freely in the fruit, which means they are "unbound" and will react to to the proteins on our tongues and in our saliva by causing the proteins to coagulate (sucking all the moisture out of our mouths and causing the furry feel that accompanies the horrible drying). When the fruit is ripe, however, the tannins are "bound up" and cannot react or coagulate. Unripe bananas also have a lot of tannins, as well as red wine that has not been aged, and nuts too. Now I know why every now and then I get that dry feeling in my mouth after eating a walnut out of the shell.

If you want to teach your kids about astringency in fruits and plants, click here for an experiment that teaches how to "unpucker" the persimmon. This experiment is labeled easy and is good for grades 5th - 8th. Specifically, it teaches kids how tannins can be bound up (or "defanged") using an iron solution. (Holy cow. I did not know any of this, but even worse, it seems any 5th grader off the street does...)

When persimmons are ripe, they are wonderful and sweet, and taste a little like an apricot. Even better, though, they can be made into persimmon bread and other yummy things. 

The four-lobed sepal of a fallen fruit is still attached to the tree next to this persimmon. If the fruit separates easily from the sepal, it is probably ripe. 

This persimmon tree was growing in the woods at Greenbo Lake State Park in Kentucky (October 13, 2012). It was close to the lake on the trail near the lodge. What a surprise to see these beautiful apricot-orange fruits as I rounded the bend. I plucked a few off to take back to show the rest of the family, but I knew not to bite into one. Although they were a nice harvesty orange, the fruits were still too firm and not ripe enough to eat.

...persimmons are a favorite food source of raccoons, who seem to always know when the fruit is ripe. We found lots of raccoon scat piles with numerous persimmon seeds in them on our hikes.

And now for the weather...

Folklore holds that persimmon seeds can predict the weather. Growing up in Cincinnati, we knew nothing about this amazing secret. We don't have a lot of persimmon trees here. Persimmons are mostly a southern and eastern species, and in all of my rambles, I've never come across one, so it's no wonder we were clueless to its power. It took my Aunt Pat and her family moving to Terre Haute, Indiana years ago to learn the folklore and pass it on to us, so I'm writing this post in her honor and memory. Here is the theory: when you slice open a persimmon seed, the embryo will be in the shape of a spoon, fork, or knife. Each has its own meaning:

Spoon - the winter will be rough with lots of snow. You need a spoon to shovel snow!

Fork - the winter will be light. You can't shovel much with a fork after all.

Knife - the winter will be icy, cutting and cold (yikes!). 

...a persimmon seed just bursting to let us know what to expect this winter. 

We were hoping for spoons because we love snow, so we were happy to see SPOONS...

...the persimmon seeds say SNOW! The embryo on the left is definitely a spoon, which means heavy snow, get shoveling; however, the seed on the right looks suspiciously like a spork. Unfortunately, sporks haven't been accounted for in the folklore, so who knows what's up. Perhaps we will have bouts of heavy snow with days of mild weather thrown in between. We'll take that...

Take a look at the bark...

If we're doing a complete post on persimmons, we can't leave out the bark. It's famous for its look of stacked cubes. You can spot a persimmon tree in the winter  just by seeing the crazy bark (on older trees)... 

The famous bark of a Persimmon Tree...

...little blocks of wood stacked up in a pleasing composition. 

The Cincinnati Champion Persimmon Tree at the Camargo Country Club in Indian Hill
My friend, Paul, knew immediately where a champion persimmon tree was in our area. You can see it from the parking lot of the golf course. We walked out on the course to get a closer look. The grounds keeper didn't mind...this tree is famous, huge and old and has lots of visitors...

...the wires running up the sides are lighting rods. It's nice to know the grand old persimmon tree is well protected.

...this is has been a long post...but there is just so much to say about the beautiful little persimmon. It's fitting the champion tree in Cincinnati is located on a golf course. The tree is part of the ebony family and its wood is very dense and hard. Its wood was a standard for "woods" golf clubs starting in the 1900s (and you can still have persimmon woods made today, source: click here). 

Hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

A flowering dogwood tree in autumn...

The bright red berries of a flowering dogwood (Cornus florida) tree bring a rush of everything autumn into my heart when I see them. When I was young, dogwood trees could be found everywhere. For me, their airy branches and delicate spring blossoms were the most beautiful of all the flowering trees, and when the hot summer days were swept away by cool and crisp breezes, and red and orange leaves danced in the forest, I couldn't wait for the burst of cheery red berries that would soon follow...

...bright red berries of a flowering dogwood (Cornus florida) define fall.

These berries are all from a dogwood tree I found while hiking around the lake at Greenbo Lake State Park in Kentucky during our annual fall trip. The tree was big, and I was excited when I turned the bend and found it. Around here, dogwood trees have succumbed to Dogwood Anthracnose, a fungal disease that stunts and often kills the tree. I remember back in the 80s when reports predicted dogwood trees might all be wiped out by the turn of the century, and it was all but hopeless. Luckily, some of the trees are surviving. A few seem to have a natural resistance to the fungus, while others seem to have survived because they are growing in a perfect location—sun, good air circulation, good drainage, yet sufficient water are all important. Since this tree was  so big, there's no doubt location, location, location was in play because it didn't seem to have been affected by the fungus and its fruit production was substantial...

...autumn leaves and red berries of the flowering dogwood add a splash of color to the fall woods.

The anthracnose fungus likes cool and moist conditions, and trees deep in shade are often more susceptible to infection. This tree was hugging the lake, but it was on a small promontory with nice sun exposure and plenty of air circulation. Because it's an understory tree, it was in partial shade, but the front faced the lake, which gave it access to extra sunlight. (Click here for a page on wet weather leaf diseases from the ODNR, which includes information on Dogwood Anthracnose.)

...red berries of Cornus florida on a healthy tree in Greenbo Lake State Park in Kentucky.

Dogwood anthracnose (Discula destructiva) affects flowering dogwoods (Cornus florida) in the east, south, and parts of the midwest...and Pacific dogwoods (Cornus nuttallii) in the Pacific northwest. Click here for information on how to identify and control Dogwood Anthracnose. The most common symptom of infection is "spotting and blighting of the foliage," which shows as a tan spot on the leaf ringed in purple (click here for Cornell University's explanation).

In the 80s we were warned flowering dogwoods could someday disappear from our forests, so it's always wonderful to stumble across a large, healthy fruiting tree in the woods!

The disease was first identified in 1978 and through the 80s its spread was swift and thorough through the east, south and parts of the midwest, as well as parts of the Pacific northwest, but some trees exhibited a natural resistance to the fungus. In 1991 79% of the flowering dogwood trees in Catoctin Mountain park in Maryland were dead from the fungus, but a few escaped infection and were found to be resistant to the disease. Those trees became part of a study by the University of Tennessee Dogwood Research Team. The research team was able to produce an anthracnose-resistant tree called "Appalachian Spring" from clones of the Catoctin trees. In 2001 they planted many of the disease-resistant clones in the forest to help replace those lost to the disease (for more on this story, click here and here). The University of Tennessee Dogwood Research Team, chaired by Dr. Mark Windham, a professor at the University of Tennessee, is still working to improve and protect dogwoods from all diseases (click here for a recent article on what they are doing now).

These bright red berries stand out like fruit flags to migrating birds. The berries are nutritious and full of fat and can help fuel their long flights south.

Nutritional quality among berries differs. Dogwood berries are high in fat and calories. They ripen in late summer and early fall and are a favorite among migrating birds such as thrushes and catbirds, according to Geoffrey A. Hammerson in "Connecticut Wildlife: Biodiversity, Natural History, and Conservation" (page 366). Hammerson also mentions not all birds can handle high-fat diets; e.g., American Robins absorb digested fats poorly, so the bright red dogwood berries are probably not their first choice in berries, which is good because it leaves more of the berries for the migratory species traveling long distances that need them. If Dogwood trees and their berries disappear from the forests, they will leave a hole in many migrating birds' diets.

It sounds like these beautiful trees now have a fighting chance. Let's hope they survive, not only so we can continue to enjoy their beautiful spring blossoms and brightly colored autumn berries, but more importantly, so migrating birds have a ready source of high-fat fruit to fuel their journey south in the fall.

Canoeing Greenbo Lake State Park in Kentucky...with two little stinkpots...

Last weekend, Rick, Matty and I, my parents, and my brother, sister-in-law and niece headed southeast for an autumn adventure at Greenbo Lake State Park in Kentucky. Every year we take a fall trip together to relax, hike and create memories. I think we've been to just about every state park with a lodge in Kentucky now. Next year the kids go off to college (sniff), but we made a pact to keep our autumn adventures going. Wherever the kids end up, we are going to take one weekend every fall and go somewhere together. This year was another perfect trip. The weather was wonderful, the hiking fun, and lots of memories were added to the memory vault...

The kids canoeing on Greenbo Lake in Kentucky. The temps were crisp and the leaves were already showing gorgeous autumn color. Being in the woods with my family is my favorite thing! (Sprinkle in a few birds, and it's icing on the cake. A female Belted Kingfisher flew right in front of us and across the lake just minutes after I took this photo.)

(Rick's the perfect canoeing partner. He always picks up the slack when I pick up the camera instead of the paddle!) Hi Rick!

Greenbo Lake is amazingly clear! You can see fish at deep depths, and you can see all the way to the bottom at least 15-20 feet from the edge. Rick and I spent a lot of time just paddling around the edges looking at fish and seeing what was on the bottom. We even saw two Stinkpot turtles (Sternotherus Odoratus) swimming and walking around...

This little Stinkpot Turtle looks like she's in shallow water, but she's in water at least 8 feet deep. This photo shows just how clear Greenbo Lake is. I'm assuming this is a female stinkpot because of the short tail; males have longer tails. She was about 5-6 inches long and was covered in algae. 

Stinkpot Turtles are new for me. I'd never seen one in the wild. Stinkpots don't do a lot of basking in the sun on logs, so you usually only see them when they are moving around in the water, and water usually isn't this clear, so we were lucky to see them. The stinkpot's head is very large and triangular-shaped with an upward pointed snout that sort of resembles a snapping turtle, but it's clearly not a snapper because two noticeable yellow stripes run from the snout to the neck. The carapace is different too because it's smooth instead of spiky like a snapping turtle's. The yellow stripes on the head reminded me a bit of map turtles also, but the carapaces were too different. I was puzzled, so I sent the photos to turtle expert, Paul Krusling, who knew immediately what they were...stinkpots!   

Stinkpot turtles aren't fast swimmers. Their short little legs produce a swimming stride that could almost be described as "lumbering," but they do move along, and I was soon pleading, "don't swim away so fast, turtle. I can't ID you yet!!"

When we got home, I pulled out "Amphibians and Reptiles of Indiana," by Sherman Minton, and started reading about stinkpots, also called Common Musk turtles. Soon all the field marks started making sense. These turtles really are distinctive once you study them. A few more descriptive field marks made the ID obvious...an elongated carapace that is smooth and domed, webbing on the feet that goes all the way to the toenails, and weak swimming. They like slow-moving water with muddy bottoms, which definitely fits Greenbo. I also read Stinkpot turtles are nocturnal, so we were doubly lucky to spot them moving around on the lake's bottom in the afternoon! As the name implies, Stinkpots (or Common Musk) turtles get their nickname from their ability to secrete a stinky smelling defensive oil through their carapace when they are under duress.

Tall pines border a good part of the lake, and when you canoe close to the shore, that fragrant pine scent sweeps over you and causes you to linger. 

My parents, Joni and Jerry, taking a leisurely pontoon boat ride with Bill and Gail. 

Canoeing on Greenbo Lake in Kentucky from Kelly Riccetti on Vimeo.

A very short iPhone video of our autumn afternoon out on Greenbo Lake.

Canoe race on Greenbo Lake in Kentucky from Kelly Riccetti on Vimeo.

...another short iPhone video of canoeing on Greenbo Lake in Kentucky...this time, a short race.

If you live in Cincinnati or Mason, Greenbo Lake State Park is only about 2 hours and 45 minutes away and is a very easy drive. We enjoyed hiking on the deserted trails and basically had the lake to ourselves. We had a lot of fun, and the food in the lodge was good too (especially the cherry pie!).

The ghostly, silvery-white moonbow at Cumberland Falls, Kentucky…

Every autumn Rick, Matty and I, and my brother, sister-in-law and niece take a weekend trip together. This year, we decided to visit Cumberland Falls, KY to try to catch a glimpse of the elusive, misty, magical moonbow—and we could not have picked a better time! We arrived at the lodge Friday evening to a packed house. Not a spot remained in the parking lot, and we had to search out a place in the auxiliary parking lot up the hill by the cabins. People were everywhere and a heightened sense of anticipation filled the air. Lunar lovers had come in record numbers to witness Mother Nature’s spectacle because conditions were predicted to be just right for a moonbow (also called a lunar rainbow)…and to add to the nighttime excitement, Halloween was just a week away!

The moonbow at Cumberland Falls, Kentucky!

When you see the moonbow with the naked eye, it appears ghostly, almost like a silvery-white apparition, but when you capture it with the camera, all the colors of the optical spectrum appear rich and deep. To shoot a moonbow, you need to open up the shutter and use a tripod. Rick shot this photograph using an aperture of f/5, a shutter speed of 25 seconds, and an ISO of 800. If you use a flash, nothing appears because the light washes the silvery-white arc away. It was pitch dark when we took this photo at 9:38 p.m., but with the delayed shutter speed, the moonlight is enough to bring everything to life. I love the deep blue of the sky and the tiny stars winking through!

Moonbows are not common and don’t happen every evening or even every month. Things have to be “just right.” The most important requirement is a full moon—or a nearly full moon. Two days before or after work very well, which was good for us because Friday night was the night before the full moon. Next in line is a perfectly clear sky—no clouds, no haze, and even no airplane vapor trails! Complete darkness must follow. City lights kill the ghostly apparition and are the reason the lovely moonbow reported in years past at Niagara Falls was extinguished. Without water, the shy silvery arc can’t be coaxed out to play either, so a slight breeze is needed to stir the mist churned up by the falls and keep it hovering in front of you. With the water vapor suspended before you, the final requirement is that the moon hangs low in the sky behind you. It's a wonder you ever get to see a moonbow at all!

When everything comes together, a full moonbow stretches from the falls to hundreds of feet down the river. The moonbow appeared around 9:00 and was still shining bright around 11:00 when we left. There were at least 300 people there when we arrived, but the crowds thinned out a bit as the evening progressed. To get these photos, we walked down to the lower level, which was an adventure in itself considering it was pitch dark and we didn't have flashlights (the second night we did). It was so fun sliding our hands across the rocks and along the rails to help us get down the huge steps to the lower level. We made a few friends along the way because everyone is so happy and excited. You can't go wrong when you're out dancing in the moonlight!

Just a quick FYI... When they say conditions have to be "just right," they mean it! The next night was the full moon, so it should have been even better, but it wasn't. The moonbow was meager at best...a wispy tiny little arc trying its hardest to flicker into a blaze, but it just couldn't. The problem was a hazy cloud cover, then the clouds went away, but an airplane's vapor trail moved into place...and on top of that, the breeze was still and no mist filled the air in front of us. Friday night it was almost like a constant fine rain, but the air was dry Saturday night. Now and then, the silvery arc would appear in bits near the base of the falls, but it never reached the amazing intensity of the night before. I'm so happy we were there Friday night!! Really, everything does need to be in perfect alignment...

"When the moon is in the Seventh House

And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
And love will steer the stars"
…this is the dawning of the moonbow in the Cumberlands…sort of ;-)

When we woke Saturday morn the sun was streaming across the sky, and the temps were autumn cool--everything was "just right" for hiking, so we set off for Eagle Falls on Trail 9.

...finally a family portrait! I always forget to get in the picture. You can't really tell, but Cumberland Falls (often called "the Niagara of the south") is in the background.

...the Eagle Falls trail is fun and has lots of surprises along the way. Here the group marches on while I lag behind to photograph something -- a flock of Golden-crowned Kinglets was foraging in the hemlock trees along the gorge. There were so many of them, and their sweet little voices were singing out all over the forest. On our way back, Rick and I paused to watch and listen, but they never did come within camera range.

...you can never go wrong with sculptural rocks...

Matty and I behind Eagle Falls. What a blast climbing on all the rocks to get there. Thank goodness I lift weights and do yoga. I don't think I would have been able to get back there if I didn't! Eagle Falls is such a pretty fall, and it seems to appear out of nowhere.

...if there is a hole that can be climbed into, Matty will find it.

...the beautiful Cumberland River from the balcony at the lodge. It was very hard to leave and come home on Sunday. We had such a fab time...I did not want to come home!

p.s. There aren't a lot of waterfalls where you can find a regularly occurring moonbow. Victoria Falls near Zimbabwe is known for its moonbow, and I read during snowmelt, a moonbow can appear at Yosemite Falls every now and then too.