By George Jacobi
On my way to meet co-steward Marian Matthews at Joshua’s Trust Byles Sanctuary I was delayed by my fourth turtle rescue of the week. It was another Painted Turtle, and thankfully didn’t involve any more vehicular drama. One earlier stop was a Spotted Turtle, a creature of DEEP CT special concern. The hotfooted driver of a large dump truck that day had little concern for reptiles (or me), although a later driver asked what was up and when I explained, said “Oh. Cool.” My wife Kris rescued a hitchhiking turtle of her own that week, all reminders of the furious pace of reproduction much of our local critters participate in during June. Late May and then early June is turtle travel season, moms plodding determinedly toward a place to lay their eggs.
Although she evoked a hobo with a bindle, the female wolf spider with her large pale egg sac was another reminder of nature’s replenishment. I was following Marian on the old white trail, which is ragged and difficult to follow in places. It crosses into the Norcross Boy Scout Camp property so for all intents and purposes is a JT dead end. For those inclined there is an inviting hillside view, once maybe pasture and now verdant green grass in dappled shade. We heard redstarts, now safe in the canopy from prying eyes. My leader’s feet missed the arachnid mother-to-be, so I declined to mention the incident.
Several teen-aged American toads were hopping about in their seemingly random way. Hard to remember, but we had a wet spring. Early June is also the likeliest time of year to spot a red eft, if you hike a damp area near a lake or pond. Newly transformed from a larval newt, the bright salamander will disappear into the deep forest for the rest of its terrestrial life, two to three years. Astonishingly, its whole lifespan, including aquatic adulthood, can be a decade. Seeing one these days is a gift and though I kept our eyes to the ground, none appeared that morning. Marian knows this place like a steward. Like she knows her gardens and barns – on our return, we detoured safely around her homicidal rooster.
I returned a week later, on a sunny breezy morning, to hike solo. The dark grove that one comes upon first, ancient white pine wolf trees and red pines dying of pest infestation, is gradually being replaced by deciduous growth. Just past Byles Brook I turned left on the yellow loop trail, followed its ravine downhill toward the Mount Hope River. Tiny white partridgeberry blooms were all that were left of spring’s wildflowers. May’s energy is flora, June’s is fauna. As the brook’s gradient eased and the path wound away, winks of sunlight decorated another expanse of waving grass on the forest floor.
Further on, that grass became a fuzzy blanket, ferns as far as the eye could see. Such relentless green, from damp floor to windblown canopy, in all directions, is truly overwhelming. Like walking inside an enchanted emerald sphere. The ferns and every other leaf here, close to the river, were covered with tree pollen. More reproduction. First glance of the future forest. I could even smell spring. What must this realm of fierce photosynthesis look and feel like to a desert dweller?
I’m a slow hiker when alone. I’ve been here several times before and it’s always a different experience. If you’re alert, you can’t walk on the same trail twice. I paused on the boardwalk over the lower brook and spotted a crayfish. No toads (or turtles) accompanied me this time. In July I’ll look for tiny toads and pickerel frogs.
On the yellow trail’s uphill leg, underbrush replaced the fern carpet. I guess the deer, whose footprints I passed in the mud, haven’t browsed everything yet. My knees had been sweeping aside fern fronds over and over, a warning that June is also the month for deer tick nymphs. A bit of reproduction I can do without. Here’s a robin, doing his relay to lure me on, and then a wood thrush. With shrubs to hide in, this is effective territory for low nesting birds, and I suspect their nests contain young. Most baby birds will fledge in June, many later in the month…when equally young Barred Owls will be ready to practice hunting skills on any careless passerines.
There is a diverse set of habitats here at Byles, including the meadow, which I didn’t visit that day. It’s not an accident that we call such a place a sanctuary: it is a nursery for the myriad mysteries of life. As I passed by the garden again, the rooster crowed, waking me from reverie. I’d been charmed again by this welcoming leafy landscape.
Spring is always brief. By the final days of June, fireflies will be out. That meadow might be a good place for you to experience their magic.
Yes, that’s now. Full summer is upon us.