Colors of November

We've had some mild weather here in Southeast Michigan for the past week or so (until today, anyway--it's still only 39 degrees and it's nearly noon).  We decided to take advantage of the last warm afternoon and go for a walk in the woods near our home.

It was 63 when we left the house, balmy by November standards.  The woods were pretty much bare, and the trail was covered with a deep blanket of leaves.  As we walked, wood frogs leaped from the cover of leaves, escaping our boots.  These frogs actually freeze during the winter, burrowing just under the leaf litter to hibernate.  Perhaps they were taking advantage of the warm weather to hunt for bugs.  Spring peepers could be heard throughout the woods.

Wood frog

The colors in November are subtle here, the blazing trees now mostly bare.  But color there is, if you look carefully. This leaf still holds the remnants of an earlier shower.

Big tooth aspen leaf

November challenges us to find beauty in patterns, too, like this fungus growing on the side of a downed tree.

Turkey tail fungus

 Grasses give a splash of color and texture as they die back for winter.

This fern frond stood out against a backdrop of dead leaves, moss and pine needles.

Milkweed was exploding across the small meadow, and the air smelled of dried goldenrod.

Common milkweed

This late in the season much of the color that remains is low to the ground, like this tiny oak sapling.  The fuchsia of its veins is startling in this dull landscape.

Mosses drape themselves over every available surface, enjoying the damp, cool weather.  There are
12,000 species of moss, so I am not going to try to id this!

 A white oak leaf rests on a dead log.

Lisa found this leaf, one of the last blazes of color in the woods.  We couldn't find the tree it came from, so it must have blown in from elsewhere.  I couldn't resist putting it on a background of moss, a harbinger of the coming holidays.

A Chorus of Frogs

(Taking a break from the Florida posts to get back to Michigan and springtime!)

Ah, spring in the north woods. Muddy trails, mosses poking their heads out, migrating ducks on the newly opened waters. Sandhill cranes call from the marshes, the pileated drums out his territory, and the robin sings again at dusk and dawn.

And then there's the vernal pond.

You can hear the cacophony a quarter mile away. Not just a chirp or two, but an orchestra--no, more like three or four orchestras playing at once. As you draw near, the sound starts to rattle around in your head, like marbles in an empty can. Get close enough, and it stops, abruptly, like someone changing the channel, and again you hear birdsong and the breeze through bare trees.

But stand there long enough and the concert will begin again, just a chirrup here, then one there, then in moments dozens, perhaps hundreds, begin their songs, trying to out-compete his neighbor.

The cause of all of this (very literally) deafening noise?

This little pipsqueak:



The western chorus frog. All 3/4 of an inch of him. Standing by the edge of the pond and trying to find one is difficult, as only about 1/2 inch is sticking out of the water. Instead, let your eyes rest on one spot, and pay attention to where the sun glints off moving water. Ah, yes, just there, and there. Now you see their yellow vocal sacs, filling and deflating, as they call to the ladies.



Their vibrations fill the air, ripple across the water. I would be curious to know the decibel level at the edge of one of these ponds--the sound really is overwhelming. A 500 pound bear could walk up behind you and you would never hear it coming for the noise of these tiny little frogs.



There are others in the pond too, like the wood frog (1" to 3", a veritable giant compared to the chorus frog), who makes a sound not unlike a duck,



and the leopard frog (1" to 3 1/2"), whose soft chirrings are nearly lost in all the other noise.



I spotted this group of three chorus frogs and started watching them.



Then some action. The frog in the top right of the frame started to make his move. He chased the frog in the top left of the frame off, then came for the third.


A bit of froggy wrestling ensued. Now, all this time, a wood frog had been hanging out just to the right. Perhaps he saw this as his chance to get rid of these noise-makers and restore some quiet to the neighborhood. He's moving in....


..and then he threw himself into the fray, clamping his slimy legs over both chorus frogs! Take that! and that!


But too much slime makes for a poor grip, and both chorus frogs escaped, then used their assailant as a raft. Serves him right.



At this point I'd been squatting in the mud for at least 20 minutes and my feet had gone numb, so I had to move on. As I stood up, the pond fell silent again, and I heard the call of a downy woodpecker in the distance.

Ah, spring in the north woods.....