Bicknell’s thrush is a habitat specialist. It nests in spruce fir forests near the top of mountains in the Northeastern United States. The species is fairly secretive, preferring dense conifer foliage. It sings infrequently and then again only in the early morning hours. Today was no different than my two previous early morning trips up Blue Mountain in 2005 and 2006. No singing Bicknell’s. We did hear four birds calling to one another from a short line of firs. Their gentle “breeer” notes varied slightly in frequency, but they were clearly the Bicknell call. Tom watched patiently for several minutes, but no bird showed itself. Thirty seconds of calling was all we earned on June 14.
Before our descent, we studied the chain of lakes in front of us from Blue Mountain, Utowana, Raquette and Eighth lakes. Each tells a different story of geological and human history. Raquette bears the scars of a glacial ice scour that moved from the northeast to the southwest creating the lake basin many millennia ago. Changes in Adirondack lake chemistry have followed the industrial revolution which deposited acidic aerosols and heavy metals on northeastern mountains. Changes in soil and water chemistry forms a powerful selective force and is currently at work on the algae, fish, bird, tree, and insect populations of the Adirondacks.
Solar light illuminated our path down the mountain. Swainson’s thrush, blackpoll warbler, winter wren and white-throated sparrow blessed the mountain air that was full of fresh balsam. Bunchberry, blue bead, and starflower were in full bloom near the top. I relished this observation as I usually see the fruits during my three week August stint at Raquette Lake.
As we end our first Adirondack excursion as a team, the songs of the early morning birds have been replaced with black-throated blue warblers, red-eyed vireo, and American robin. The dull roar of automobiles traveling at double nickel speed signals the end of the trail. It is 7:30 A.M., time for breakfast and a shower. In three hours of hiking, I have begun the outline for the scientific issues that are shaped by the unique features of the Adirondacks: geological history, ecology, and the human environment. Adventure one is complete.
Showing posts with label Ornithology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ornithology. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Ascent of Blue Mountain on June 14, 2007
January 14th began a little early. At 3:56 A.M., Tom began rustling a backpack and a wind breaker to break the silence in our borrowed pink room. A flip of the lights, a rub on Cory’s back and we are off to the kitchen for a fast coffee. At 4:15 A.M. we are in the Town & Country rolling down highway 28 a half mile to head north on highway 30 to the Blue Mountain trailhead. After turning twice in the darkness, we find the gravel parking lot awaiting our anxious bodies. Flashlights working, trail log signed, and we are off on an Adirondack adventure.
The Adirondacks showcase many lessons in ecology, earth science, and a legacy of the human impact. Some 18,000 years B.P. glaciers had moved across this wilderness we recognize as Adirondack Park. One glacier excavated bowl-shaped cuts in the side of Whiteface Mountain. Another glacier from the north shoveled sand and gravel from an area now know as Potsdam, trucked it 30 miles south and deposited at a higher elevation on the north slope of Whiteface. Another glacier is responsible for the boulders thrown in front of my walk up Blue Mountain at 4:30 A.M. These boulders have seen life from somewhere in Canada, survived the migration of entire ecosystems over their surface, and now they serve as a refuge for insects, the beginning of life for mosses, rock ferns, and a yellow birch or two.
Fifteen minutes into the walk, the morning chorus begins with a Swainson’s thrush, and then a second, and a third. Their bubbly crescendo introduces our ears to a new day. It is still dark and our flashlights are illuminating the rock strewn trail. Shortly after the Swainson’s started, the smooth clear notes of the white-throated sparrow introduce themselves to the new day. It has been reported that the larger birds with big eyes begin the morning chorus followed by the singing of successively smaller bird species. This trend continued with the Blackpoll warbler, Tenneessee warbler, and the winter wren on our ascent.
The change in eleveation along the trail shows another interaction between earth science and biological ecology. Trees typical of a temperature deciduous forest (American beech, eastern hemlock, yellow birch, and sugar maple) throughout New York are observed at 2000 ft where the trailhead begins. Somewhere around 2800 feet balsam fir and paper birch become more common. The forest is shorter here and the trees are sculptured by the wind, long winters, and drier conditions. In terms of appearance, the higher elevation fir-birch forest looks like the impoverished neighborhood on the mountain. Thin soil, dry conditions, and severe winters keeps these trees from reaching their full potential.
At 5:15 we reach the peak of Blue Mountain at 3200 ft. are greeted to a brisk breeze and temperatures that most certainly are no higher than 40°F. The sun breaks about the ridges and mountains to the east and casts an orange glow over the balsam fir near the top of Blue. The steps on the fire tower have small puddles of water. Tom believes the steps were frost covered just moments earlier.
Aside from the breeze, the top of Blue is silent except for a dark-eyed junco singing somewhere on the tree line. We skirt around the rock escarpment carefully listening for another, much rarer thrush called Bicknell’s. This bird is the sole reason I encouraged my son, Cory, and my friend Tom to the top of Blue so early in the morning.
The Adirondacks showcase many lessons in ecology, earth science, and a legacy of the human impact. Some 18,000 years B.P. glaciers had moved across this wilderness we recognize as Adirondack Park. One glacier excavated bowl-shaped cuts in the side of Whiteface Mountain. Another glacier from the north shoveled sand and gravel from an area now know as Potsdam, trucked it 30 miles south and deposited at a higher elevation on the north slope of Whiteface. Another glacier is responsible for the boulders thrown in front of my walk up Blue Mountain at 4:30 A.M. These boulders have seen life from somewhere in Canada, survived the migration of entire ecosystems over their surface, and now they serve as a refuge for insects, the beginning of life for mosses, rock ferns, and a yellow birch or two.
Fifteen minutes into the walk, the morning chorus begins with a Swainson’s thrush, and then a second, and a third. Their bubbly crescendo introduces our ears to a new day. It is still dark and our flashlights are illuminating the rock strewn trail. Shortly after the Swainson’s started, the smooth clear notes of the white-throated sparrow introduce themselves to the new day. It has been reported that the larger birds with big eyes begin the morning chorus followed by the singing of successively smaller bird species. This trend continued with the Blackpoll warbler, Tenneessee warbler, and the winter wren on our ascent.
The change in eleveation along the trail shows another interaction between earth science and biological ecology. Trees typical of a temperature deciduous forest (American beech, eastern hemlock, yellow birch, and sugar maple) throughout New York are observed at 2000 ft where the trailhead begins. Somewhere around 2800 feet balsam fir and paper birch become more common. The forest is shorter here and the trees are sculptured by the wind, long winters, and drier conditions. In terms of appearance, the higher elevation fir-birch forest looks like the impoverished neighborhood on the mountain. Thin soil, dry conditions, and severe winters keeps these trees from reaching their full potential.
At 5:15 we reach the peak of Blue Mountain at 3200 ft. are greeted to a brisk breeze and temperatures that most certainly are no higher than 40°F. The sun breaks about the ridges and mountains to the east and casts an orange glow over the balsam fir near the top of Blue. The steps on the fire tower have small puddles of water. Tom believes the steps were frost covered just moments earlier.Aside from the breeze, the top of Blue is silent except for a dark-eyed junco singing somewhere on the tree line. We skirt around the rock escarpment carefully listening for another, much rarer thrush called Bicknell’s. This bird is the sole reason I encouraged my son, Cory, and my friend Tom to the top of Blue so early in the morning.
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