Author: Brenda Clements Jones

Brenda is a certified Virginia Master Naturalist, a Habitat Defender for Shenandoah National Park, and a devoted fan of Mother Nature. She lives in a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Shenandoah National Park, and hikes up to the higher elevations of her mountain often to see what nature is up to. Her constant hiking companion is a camera that captures nature as it unfolds through the seasons. It’s her goal to share the natural world around her through her photographs.

Thistle Seed? No!

What are these seeds, that I’ve been calling thistle seed, since I was a child? These seeds that Goldfinches, Chickadees, Tufted Titmice and White-throated Sparrows seem to go bonkers over?

What a surprise I had, when I looked up thistle seed on the internet. Seems thistle seed is not thistle seed at all, but the seed of a yellow flower, Guizotia abyssinica, which is cultivated for its seeds in Africa, India and other areas of southeast Asia. A native of the highlands of Ethiopia, and the only major wild bird feed seed imported to North America from overseas.

This tiny black seed is sold here in the U.S. as Nyjer seed, a registered trademark of the Wild Bird Feeding Industry. It amazes me that the tiny songbirds that come to my feeders, take each tiny seed to a nearby branch and carefully remove the hull, to eat the little bit of nut meat, which is packed with 40 percent oil, which is the attractant.

In all seasons, Goldfinches arrive to dine on the Nyjer seeds.

Another bird that can’t resist the temptation of Nyjer seed, is the White-Throated Sparrow.

There are other birds that are attracted to Nyjer seed, but I’ll close with this last little guy. A Tufted Titmouse. These four bird species, Chickadees, Goldfinches, White-throated Sparrows, and Tufted Titmice are the ones that I know I’ll see every single day at my feeder of tiny black seeds, that are not thistle seed.

Pink Fog

Perhaps spring is here. Though the forecast for this coming Tuesday (the day this will be published) is for more snow.

My Redbuds, Cercis canadensis, here in the mountains of central Virginia are just now showing the slightest signs, of thoughts of blooms. This picture, above, was taken 5 days ago, while our newest, 8 inches of snow, were still festooning tree branches. Buds with just a hint of swelling.

In what will seem like, less time than the blink of an eye, my Redbuds will be sprouting their pinkish-purple blossoms. Sprouting blossoms that will be pollinated by long-tongued bees. Sprouting from buds along its zigzag branches, and sometimes even from the trunk of the tree itself.

The trunk, with its sprouting buds, is often twisted, looking as if it is participating in a yoga class.

To my eyes, which are even now, just awakening from a black and white, monotoned winter, the color will be dazzling! Along with tiny bits of apple green, there will be a flooding of the softest of magenta, in the just coming alive forest. It will appear to be a pink watercolor wash, over nearly everything.

At this point in the emergence of spring, on rare occasions, an event might happen if I am lucky. Pink Fog. The right temperatures, the right humidity and the sun doing its best to filter through all the Redbud blooms and PRESTO! Pink Fog! Beautiful!

For about one week, during this unfurling of spring, there will be an overlapping of blooms. Redbuds on the decline, and another native tree, the Flowering Dogwood, Cornus florida, just coming into bloom, contrasting their pink, and bright, snow white petals.

While the forests are having their pink and white dance, the Redbud flowers will be aging. Redbud leaves will be pushing their way out into the world. Leaves blushed with red that are perhaps the inspiration for the name Redbud. Leaves that have filled my photo collection, of Mother Nature’s hearts. Leaves that will provide food for caterpillars, of butterflies and moths of the forest, such as the striking Io Moth, Automeris io.

The seasons march on. The distinctive fruit of the Redbud will develop into flat, pea-like pods that contain 10 to 12 seeds.

As those seed pods develop, the Redbud leaves will be turning a brilliant yellow, preparing the trees for winter.

But back to the present and maybe spring. No Redbud blooms yet. Here’s to spring really happening. Here’s to at least one Pink Fog event!

More Pie Heritage

Okay, my title says, “More Pie Heritage.” Some time ago, I wrote a blog referring to my “apple pie heritage”. This blog is about Funny Cake.

So, am I talking about pie, or am I talking about cake? It is in a pie crust, but it is a cake, made with all the requirements for cake. And once you cut into the cake, you’ll find a surprise treasure of chocolate, a bit like icing, on the bottom.

I’d like to point out something that you’ll see in a couple of these pictures – the rolling pin I use. It is a must for me, for making my pie crusts. It was made by a dear friends of mine, at Phineas Rose. You can find this rolling pin, made in many different types of wood, at the Noon Whistle Pottery.

The recipe for Funny Cake has come to me, down through the generations. It is accompanied with a legend. My Grandmother Bertie died when my Mom was very young. Grandpa remarried a wonderful woman, who of course, I and all my cousins called Grandmom. This is “Grandmom Maude.” Grandmom Maude found Grandmom Bertie’s recipe for Funny Cake, and wanting to make dessert for her family, got to work stirring up the ingredients.

The recipe that she was working from did not have any notation that the ingredients must go into 2 unbaked pie shells. So she just put the ingredients into a pan and baked it up. The results, at least in the legend, were quite a disappointment. But Grandmom Maude, being the determined individual she was, made the corrections and continued making Funny Cake for many years.

Here is my recipe for Funny Cake. It is in my handwriting, in a little recipe notebook that my Mom’s sister, my Aunt Kay gave to me shortly before I got married. So what you see was written about 46 years ago. I wish it was in Grandmom Bertie’s handwriting, but no such luck. At least I have been able to pass the recipe on to my son and daughter-in-law, and one of these days, perhaps their daughter will be getting it as her birthday cake!

Don’t forget – divide the chocolate and batter into 2 unbaked pie shells!

Grumpy Birds

Those of you who are fortunate to have hummingbirds come to your garden, to get a sip from your feeder, or to enjoy the nectar provided by your flowers – you’ll know how intolerant they are. I’ve actually seen one hummingbird come up behind another, who is feeding, and hammer him on the head with his bill! Come on guys! Relax!

But that’s summer! Let’s get back to this season: mud, or the end of winter.

I’ve been watching the birds at my feeders since January. When I first put out the suet feeder, it took a while for the downy woodpeckers to show up. Perhaps a bit more cautious. Let the chickadees, white-throated sparrows, juncos, cardinals, titmice see if harm comes. They had already tested the feeder territory, eating the sunflower seeds and perhaps felt safe in the area.

I was delighted when the first nuthatch showed up. Just him. It took a while for another one to brave this new thing, a suet feeder in the woods! And then, a couple weeks ago, a pair of downy woodpeckers started coming for their dinner too.

It has been surprising to me to find that downy woodpeckers are not “sharing” birds. If another bird gets near the suet while they are feeding — look out! Grump City! Much like hummingbirds, charming little things to watch, until they feel they have had enough sharing!

One morning recently I saw a downy grab a chickadee and actually toss him aside.

Goodness. Much like hummingbirds. Grumps! — Much like some people! Fortunately not many of them, right??

Juniper Berries

Best buds at the old watering hole. I often see Cedar Waxwings and American Robins hanging out together. — **Best buds at the old watering hole. I often see Cedar Waxwings and American Robins hanging out together**

A pioneer tree or bush, depending on your thoughts, and its growing conditions, Eastern Red Cedar, Juniperus virginiana, is often one of the first to move into a field that has been cleared.

Here they are, hanging out again. This time, they're at the "Juniper Berry Cafeteria." — **Here they are, hanging out again. This time, they’re at the “Juniper Berry Cafeteria.”**

Eastern Red Cedars are actually Junipers. They play an important role in the lives of a long list of insects, birds and mammals. From the Juniper Hairstreak, to the Northern Bobwhite, to the White-tailed Deer, these trees provide both food and shelter.

Another customer at the "Juniper Berry Cafeteria," a Yellow-shafted Flicker. — **Another customer at the “Juniper Berry Cafeteria,” a Yellow-shafted Flicker.**

The most obvious benefit I see on my hikes, is the berry, or the seed cone, of the Eastern Red Cedar. A berry the color of a blueberry, with a similar white bloom, it is a favorite in my bird world. Some of these pictures were taken right after a snow storm in January. The Cedar trees were alive with birds looking for dinner.

The berries bring a plethora of birds to the Cedar trees here on the mountain, including the Robin. Thought by many to be a sign of spring, the Robin is often here during the winter, checking out what berries are still around. They move in response to food supply and I guess my mountain usually has a good provision for them.

Do they have tastes similar to ours? — **American Robins, ready to empty the “Cafeteria” of its berries.**

Not only do animals in the wild use the Juniper Berry, but the berry is also used by humans, for culinary purposes and to flavor gin and beer. I think I’ll leave the berries that I see for the birds!

Poison Ivy Good?

I am highly allergic to Poison Ivy (Toxicodendron radicans). As a youngster, I never got a Poison Ivy rash, though I loved to romp in the unending woods directly behind my house. Vines to swing over the creek, forts my friends and I were out there constantly. In 1985 I had a wakeup call, with an extremely painful rash on my arm. My luck had run out. A trip to the doctor’s office got me temporary relief with steroids. I have a quilt to show for the time I was on those steroids and bouncing off the walls. I resorted to creating a quilt to help my addled brain. I quickly learned to avoid at all costs the beautiful plant.

Beautiful Plant?

Yes, I think Poison Ivy is quite a beautiful plant. Just look at its scarlet leaves in the first photograph. This is the scarlet of spring, with leaves that are often very shiny, whether scarlet in spring, or green in summer. As spring turns to summer, the plant puts out flowers. Large clusters of soft, pale green, with brilliant school bus yellow centers.

More Color In Autumn

As trees are putting on their autumnal show, Poison Ivy whether in its vine form, climbing way up into trees, or trailing along the ground, or taking on the form of a small bush, puts on its own show with bright color. Either sunshine yellow, crimson red, or pumpkin orange.

Sculpture

The vines, creeping up tall trees, only know sky as the limit. They climb as high as a tree will grow, with their thread-like hairs. The vines make me think of sculptures, wrapped up and around lovely textured bark. Those thread-like hairs of the Poison Ivy vine, can sometimes be found in the nests of cardinals and goldfinches. A helpful building material.

Berries

As the autumn leaves fall, they leave behind berries. Off white berries, speckled with a bit of bitter chocolate brown. These berries attract many birds. Bluebirds, crows, turkeys and all manner of woodpeckers.

The wonderful winter of 2009–10 which covered the ground here on my mountain with 72 inches of snow, created a Poison Ivy fruit cafeteria of berries for a remarkable number of woodpeckers. Many pileateds, and yellow-shafted flickers descended upon a large oak tree covered with Poison Ivy in front of my cabin. They returned day after day, until the many vines were stripped of their berries. That winter gave me new respect for what Poison Ivy can do for birds in my area.

Come Walk With Me

Ice storm overnight. Beauty beyond words. Walk carefully with me and I will show you some of that beauty. Watch your step. It is very slick.

If this blog had a sound track, this is what it would look like. I don’t know what the music actually sounds like, but as I was working on capturing this glazed Sumac, I felt I was photographing music.

A common evergreen here on my mountain, this is Virginia Pine, Pinus virginiana, dressed in shimmering, silvery ice. A tree native to the Blue Ridge Mountains, that grows to a height of 60 feet.

Another evergreen, my first photo in this blog, is a Blue Spruce, Picea pungens. A tree of color well worth noting. This tree is a particularly nice example of that blue-gray-green. My living room was graced with the beauty of this tree at Christmas, and it has been planted just outside my studio windows to please me throughout the year.

The Blue Spruce is not native to the Blue Ridge Mountains where I am located, but is a tree native to the Rocky Mountains of the U.S. I expect my lovely Blue Spruce to reach a height of 50 feet. Growing the wild, it might reach a height of 75 feet.

The ice doesn’t quite know how to collect itself here on these cotton topped, seed heads of Anemone virginiana. I’ve enjoyed getting to know this native perennial through the years. It’s a tall (2 to 3 feet) plant in summer, with attractive pale green to white flowers that are 1.5 inches across. The pistils are grouped in a thimble shape, which is how the plant gets its name. The common name, Thimble Weed, is perhaps why I am fascinated with it, since I am a quilter and use a thimble quite often.

Seed eating birds really go for these seeds, when they are not covered in a layer of ice. This is Black-eyed Susan or Eastern Coneflower, Rudbeckia fulgida. This is an excellent example of how handy a scientific name is. There are many flowers with the common name, Black-eyed Susan. Knowing the scientific name eliminates all confusion.

More of the Black-eyed Susan, Rudbeckia fulgida, seed heads protected from the desires of Goldfinches, by ice.

A stunning flower during the summer, the Purple Coneflower, Echinachea purpurpea, is another native perennial that I depend on to draw the attention of Goldfinches when the seeds are present. This seed head has served its purpose, with all the seeds gone.

The last stop on our walk in the icy wonderland, this is a White Oak, Quercus alba, which keeps its leaves until the spring. It is a grand tree that can grow to be 100 feet tall and live for 200 to 300 years.

And now, I’m hoping for more ice or snow to create an art gallery of winter beauty on my mountain!

Black Bear Hibernation

Sleeping through some, or most of the winter, as Black Bears (Ursus americanus) do, has been referred to as winter sleep, carnivorean lethargy, dormancy or torpor. Now leading physiologists simply call this long sleep, hibernation.

We humans sometimes get up in the middle of the night for a midnight snack. Black Bears are known to do a similar thing in the middle of winter. During a warm spell, one may stumble from his den in search of something to eat. I saw one here in my yard about this time, last year, looking like he needed something to nibble on.

I’m hoping the bears around here will sleep through this warm spell. I’m putting out black oil sunflower seeds for the birds, and I would prefer that the bears do not tamper with the feeders. Last year, the bear I saw didn’t damage the bird feeders. Maybe I’ll be as lucky this year. Stay tuned!

Bear Signs

I see signs of Black Bear, Ursus americanus, up here in the mountains very often, though I don’t see the bears themselves frequently.

An often seen sign of bear, is a pile of bear poop, or bear scat, a term used in more sophisticated company. Bear scat can weigh typically, one half pound, to one pound. That should make you realize that these are large animals! What you find in bear scat is, of course, a direct reflection of what the bear has been eating. Ninety percent of a Black Bear’s diet is fruits and berries, and other vegetation, while the other ten percent is other animals, including insects and insect larvae.

Another sign that shows up here on the mountain, is the overturned grill. Care is taken to clean the grill, but I suppose one can never remove the scent of a freshly cooked meal. After all, Black Bears have extremely sensitive noses. It basically happens like this: the afternoon after the grilled dinner has been eaten, at a quiet moment, when no one is expecting it, least of all the visiting bear, there is a sudden, very loud crash! I look out my studio windows and see a very startled bear running up the mountain, away from the overturned grill. The grill is a hefty, propane grill and is a good sized piece of cooking equipment. It surprises me how often it is turned over. It also is surprising how durable the grill is, coming through with hardly any damage. Surely it is not the same bear every time. It is very apparent that it truly frightens the bear!

Another sign that is encountered is the telltale paw print. On storm doors, on car hoods, on grills. Paw prints many places. And mind you, no trash is left outside up here to attract the bears. No trash to draw the Black Bear, but he figures this is his territory to explore at will. To leave tracks in mud. Tracks that say, Black Bear was here!

In the photo of the bear track above, the round object on the far right is a quarter for scale. If you look carefully, you can also see marks left by his claws.

This fellow is quite a climber. He’s gotten himself high into the apple tree, breaking branches along the way. I’ve also got a Montmorency Cherry tree. Cherries from that tree make such scrumptious pies, but I’ve given up trying to get cherries from the tree. Not only do the bears beat me to the cherries, but the tree is also half the size it should be, because of broken branches.

My husband grows Christmas trees. Bears and Christmas trees are not a good combination. Bears have a habit of chomping off the leader of a beautiful Christmas tree, or they may do more damage, breaking the tree further down.

But look at that sweet face! I would not trade my cabin in the mountains, my cabin surrounded by woods for anything in the world. I love living in Black Bear country!

I’ve just posted more photographs and information on how Black Bears mark their territory. You can find that post by clicking here.

Sign Of Bears

Several times a year I see a Black Bear,Ursus americanus, in my yard. Black Bears are around nearly all the time. I know that they’ve been around, even when I don’t see them, due to signs that they leave me. Last night I wrote a blog about how I can tell that Black Bears, Ursus americanus, have been in my yard. You can read that blog and see my photographs, by clicking here. Black Bears let other animals know that they are around. Read on, and find out how!

Black Bears are solitary animals, generally, except in the case of a mother and cubs, breeding pairs during the summer, and bears gathering at a food source.

Bears have ways of letting other bears and other animals know that they have been in the area. Ways of marking their territory through scents.

This utility pole is within sight of my cabin, and is a favorite spot for bears to mark with their scent. They rub their back, shoulders, neck, and the top of their head on the tree or pole. It’s not at all unusual to see them marking utility poles as well as trees. They will also claw the tree, or bite into the tree or pole to leave their scent. My husband grows Christmas trees, and bears really enjoy chomping off the tops of those trees. Frustrating, but not much we can do about it. Just life in the mountains!

Here’s another Black Bear, marking his territory by rubbing against a pine tree. He’s got a beautiful blaze (the white fur that looks like a necklace), which makes him easy to identify. I don’t see white blazes like this very often.

So many wonderful animals around here to enjoy. Black Bears are just a small portion of the wealth of fauna to enjoy in the mountains.