By Dave Curry

Early harvest figures from the WVDNR indicate 2013 spring turkey hunters did very well. A total of 10,974 bearded turkeys were checked for the season that concluded on May 18. This represents a 32 precent increase statewide over the 2012 spring season.

Carry-over and survival of birds was very good last winter and last fall’s low harvest added to the number of available birds. Add to that fairly good weather conditions which allowed more hunters more time in the field and an increased harvest became very possible.

Pocahontas County show-ed a big increase with 162 gobblers checked in. This is a 34 percent growth over the five year average harvest. Even so, Pocahontas did not crack the top 10 counties. Preston County had the highest kill with 403. Greenbrier was the only other traditional mountain county to break into the top 10 with 309. Pendleton, Webster and Randolph did not fall into the top 10 counties either.

Thirty or more years ago, most of the spring harvest of turkeys and all of the fall harvest came from those same mountain counties. The statewide expansion of the turkeys must be considered one of the DNR’s greatest triumphs. All 55 counties recorded gobblers harvested this spring.

Most successful hen turkeys should have hatched their young over the last two or three weeks. Hens are good mothers and will keep a close eye on the young ones. Early on their worst enemy will be heavy rain followed by cold. These conditions can sap a lot of energy from the poults. Nearly three inches of rain was recorded here between May 6 and 8, but it remains to be seen what effect that will have on the new turkey population.

The Dreaded Cicada
Recently the news networks announced the return of the periodic cicada. The large insect with the red eyes, square head and noisy demeanor is back after completing their 17-year lifecycle. They live underground and feed on tree roots. At emergence, they will climb on something and shed their skin, leaving a ghostly exo-skeleton. The new adults will sport big clear wings but are awkward fliers. They mate, lay their eggs for the next generation, then die all within a three or four week period.

However, they shouldn’t be a problem around here. There are several different broods hatching in different years and all are localized. This year’s brood, known as Brood II, is huge, ranging from North Carolina to Connecticut and inland through Virginia, Maryland and New Jersey.

West Virginia probably won’t be impacted until the Brood V hatches in 2016. This brood will cover most of the state.

This writer is old enough to remember several generations, the deafening mating calls and the lingering damage to fruit trees from the female egg laying. I have seen the delayed tree damage often in the northern part of the state. The noise in Smoke Hole Canyon one year made one cover their ears.

However, I have never seen periodic cicada in this area. How Pocahontas County has escaped these overlapping broods is a mystery.

You may however run into the summer cicada. This cousin to the periodic spends two to five years underground feeding on tree roots. They emerge a lot later, usually in late July, and in much smaller numbers. They will still shed their skin, leaving behind the dried shell, and will begin to make that loud buzzing music to attract a mate.

If you happen to find one emerging, put it in a jar or covered cup so that it can’t climb out. Watch the transformation as the larva climbs out of his skin and becomes an adult. That’s entertainment.

For more information on periodic cicada broods and locations, check out cicadamania.com

By Dave Curry
Stratification may sound like a 50 cent word, but it is fairly versatile. It usually refers to layers of something. Whether it is social differences of socio economic groups or layers of rock accumulated over the ages or depths of fish scattered in a lake, these divisional levels can play a big part in understanding some processes.

Recently stratification of air has been very important in the Arbovale/Green Bank area. All you have to do is look out the window to see the results.
It is not news that it has been cold. Everybody knows that, and frosts over this past weekend have knocked out several early gardens. Some folks even had their tomatoes and peppers covered up and protected, but the low temps penetrated and froze the plants. Why does this happen and usually in the same places?

This is where stratification comes in. The cold air is heavier than warm air and will sink to the lowest elevation. Here in the Deer Creek Valley that cold, frosty air layers across the valley into the lowest spots. A layer of warm air may close in over top and force it down further.
Now not only gardens, flowers and fruit trees are at risk, several hardwood trees are also susceptible and this is most evident with the oaks. This is what happened on May 14.

As the early oak leaves begin to emerge, they are extremely tender and have little immunity to the cold. White oak leaves less than 25 percent developed can be frozen back completely. This also happens to be the time of emergence of the catkin or flower that creates the acorn. These will freeze back also and can wipe out the acorn crop for the season.

If you look at Buffalo Mountain from Arbovale you will notice a brown area running a few hundred yards up the mountain. Above that is a beautiful green area that was protected by that layer of warmer air. Most of the white oaks have lost their leaves and catkins and will be set back. The oaks will recover and eventually put out new leaves, but this will really stress those trees and they may become susceptible to diseases, drought or insects. More stress and the trees could die.

Maples, pines, a few other species and oaks that are further developed in the low ground may not be affected by the cold.
If you look toward the top of Buffalo Mountain, you may see another brown line toward the top. These are trees that haven’t begun to leaf out yet. Every thousand feet of elevation is like a week of the growing season. So 2,000 feet of elevation would be like putting everything two weeks behind in growing.
So, this stratification is very easy to see now. The green and brown layers stack up to the peaks. For hunters, you may want to remember to avoid the frost bit areas in the fall.

Odds and Ends
The first song birds are coming off of the nest now. Most will begin foraging trips with the parents until they learn to feed themselves. Young starlings and killdeer have been seen, as well as one family of wood ducks.
The bluebirds are doing well so far. There are five families with most at eight to 10 days old at the last check. Another eight to 10 days and they will exit the box and begin life with the family.

By Dave Curry

Heard any whip-poor-wills lately?

This is one species that conservationist and birders agree may be in a decline.  While not being an endangered species, it is certainly listed as a bird of concern.

The West Virginia Department of Natural Resources would like your help in locating whip-poor-wills and all one needs to do is listen.

The name of this non-descript, medium size brown and gray bird is phonetically derived from its call.  And that call can be repeated continuously for long periods of time.  That whip-poor-will call has been romanticized in poetry and song and is often associated with warm, moon lit summer nights.

 The family name for these birds is not nearly as pleasing, as they fall into a group called nightjars.  And the subfamily which includes nighthawks and Chuck-wills-widow goes by the name Goatsuckers.  Poetry and songs about nightjars and goatsuckers would seem to be somewhat limited but could be a good source of inspiration for an aspiring, young artist.

Whip-poor-wills are night birds, preferring to feed and care for their young after dark and then sleep all day.  Their brindled plumage allows them to remain well camouflaged on the forest floor, and birders or predators often walk right by without seeing them.  This is also what makes them difficult to quantify as most bird census surveys are done by observing active birds in the daytime.

Whip-poor-wills have small beaks but can open the mouths very wide.  This helps them to catch moths and beetles on the wing as they feed at dawn and dusk.  It is thought that they use the background of the moonlit sky to distinguish their prey and may also synchronize their eggs with the full moon.  Eggs seem to hatch about 10 days before the full moon.  This would give the parent birds a potential 15 to 20 brighter nights in a row and increase their odds of successfully raising a family.

No one knows why or even if the whip-poor-will is in a decline.  There is the usual list of potential reasons such as climate change, habitat loss, pollution, and increase in predators.  But any critter that loudly announces its location over and over again all night long could become an easy snack for an owl or other night hunter.  Natural selection may end up playing a big part in the future of this bird.  And evolution can sometimes be harsh.

There are many other bird species with declining populations including golden winged warblers, quail, evening grosbeaks, shrikes and wood thrushes.  Some are being out competed for food or nesting areas by stronger or invasive species.  Bluebirds and red-headed woodpeckers and other native birds have suffered as a result of house sparrows and starlings taking the best nesting sites.

All species need to be monitored as they try to evolve into a dynamic and ever changing world.

Heard any whip-poor-wills lately?

If you would like to help out, you can start by contacting Rich Bailey in the Wildlife Resources Section of the Division of Natural Resources, richard.s.bailey@wv.gov

By Dave Curry

Heard any whip-poor-wills lately?

This is one species that conservationist and birders agree may be in a decline.  While not being an endangered species, it is certainly listed as a bird of concern.

The West Virginia Department of Natural Resources would like your help in locating whip-poor-wills and all one needs to do is listen.

The name of this non-descript, medium size brown and gray bird is phonetically derived from its call.  And that call can be repeated continuously for long periods of time.  That whip-poor-will call has been romanticized in poetry and song and is often associated with warm, moon lit summer nights.

 The family name for these birds is not nearly as pleasing, as they fall into a group called nightjars.  And the subfamily which includes nighthawks and Chuck-wills-widow goes by the name Goatsuckers.  Poetry and songs about nightjars and goatsuckers would seem to be somewhat limited but could be a good source of inspiration for an aspiring, young artist.

Whip-poor-wills are night birds, preferring to feed and care for their young after dark and then sleep all day.  Their brindled plumage allows them to remain well camouflaged on the forest floor, and birders or predators often walk right by without seeing them.  This is also what makes them difficult to quantify as most bird census surveys are done by observing active birds in the daytime.

Whip-poor-wills have small beaks but can open the mouths very wide.  This helps them to catch moths and beetles on the wing as they feed at dawn and dusk.  It is thought that they use the background of the moonlit sky to distinguish their prey and may also synchronize their eggs with the full moon.  Eggs seem to hatch about 10 days before the full moon.  This would give the parent birds a potential 15 to 20 brighter nights in a row and increase their odds of successfully raising a family.

No one knows why or even if the whip-poor-will is in a decline.  There is the usual list of potential reasons such as climate change, habitat loss, pollution, and increase in predators.  But any critter that loudly announces its location over and over again all night long could become an easy snack for an owl or other night hunter.  Natural selection may end up playing a big part in the future of this bird.  And evolution can sometimes be harsh.

There are many other bird species with declining populations including golden winged warblers, quail, evening grosbeaks, shrikes and wood thrushes.  Some are being out competed for food or nesting areas by stronger or invasive species.  Bluebirds and red-headed woodpeckers and other native birds have suffered as a result of house sparrows and starlings taking the best nesting sites.

All species need to be monitored as they try to evolve into a dynamic and ever changing world.

Heard any whip-poor-wills lately?

If you would like to help out, you can start by contacting Rich Bailey in the Wildlife Resources Section of the Division of Natural Resources, richard.s.bailey@wv.gov

By Dave Curry

Spring Turkey Season

Spring turkey season will begin on Monday, April 22.  It is time to get out the box calls and diaphragms, dust off the shotgun and try on the camo to see if it still fits after a long slothful winter.  As winter turns to spring and fields begin to green up, more turkeys are showing up to take advantage of the grass.  Overall they seem to have wintered well.

Hunters can legally take up to two bearded turkeys under spring regulations in Pocahontas County (and another in fall season).  Shooting hours begin one-half hour before sunrise to 1 p.m.

In addition, there will be a special youth hunt on Saturday, April 20.  Youngsters eight to 17 are eligible to take one bearded turkey - but age 14 and under must be hunting with a licensed adult.  Fifteen-to-17-year-olds must also have a license.

Last year, 124 gobblers were harvested countywide in the spring with the five year average coming in at 111.  Statewide 8,303 long beards were taken and that number is 87 percent of the total, combined spring/fall harvest of 9,575.

Camp Checkout

Since spring seems to have sprung all around us and most of the snow has melted, I decided to roadtrip into camp to check it out.  The road was clear and relatively dry going into Broken Antler.   Ern and others have already cleared the way and camp appears to be in good shape.

The pond was full of snow melt and woodfrogs.  Their cacophony of quacks could be heard at quite a distance as the males tried to entice the ladies to join them in their spring rituals.  Large globs of clear, gelatinous eggs with black embryo centers piled up near the dam, carried there by the breeze, proved many females had already been there.

A few other amphibians had been there and left calling cards. Others will arrive later in their seasons.  Newts own the pond and can be found there year-round.  Spring peepers are also abundant and can be deafening.  Hopefully a few green frogs will show up within the month.  They announce themselves with a loud boink that some have compared to plucking a banjo string.  As I walked around the pond, all got quiet as the amphs tried to hide their presence.
Then from 200 yards down on the flat there came the booming of a turkey gobble.  Two minutes later, he gobbled again.  Not the normal full throated, raise the hair on your neck kind of gobble, but more of a shrieky, half developed attempt.  This is probably coming from a jake, the juvenile tom just trying his lungs out for the first time. Few other self-respecting long beards would go on a gobbling spree at 1 o’clock in the afternoon.  But this one wants his own territory and harem of hens, so he is speaking up.

The young jake continued to gobble every two-to-five minutes.  I began to move toward him in hopes of getting a glimpse until a grey squirrel sighted me and began to bark.  If you are looking for peace and quiet, I don’t recommend this place.

The boys i.e. the old guys now, will be back this weekend for the annual spring fishing camp. This tradition has been carried out for 30 plus years with this group.  We used to hit the streams hard and have a big fish fry, but in recent years most of us have assumed a fish for fun attitude and throw most of them back.  Not that we don’t like fish, because there is nothing finer than fresh brook trout.  But fish have their own problems with predators, drought, acid rain, global warming and over-fishing.  Maybe the brooks will appreciate our kinder, gentler style. 

Camp on the mountain, disperse in pairs all over the county to fish, reassemble in the evening to compare notes and tell lies.

There might even be a story there for next week.

By Dave Curry

The 2012 Big Game Bulletin has recently been released by the Department of Natural Resources. It is compiled yearly to keep hunters and outdoor lovers up-to-date on the results of the past hunting season.

For anyone with an interest in the four big game animals in the state, the bulletin has a section for each, including bear, deer, turkey and wild boar. There is more than enough data, numbers, charts and results to appease any statistics junkie/hunter.

Most hunters know that 2012 was a record year for bear harvests, with 2,691 killed, but this report breaks down how many came from each county, what season they were taken in, how many bow and gun kills of each, and the breakdown of males to female bears. Also, 183 bears were killed in road accidents, nuisance kills or illegal kills. These non-hunting mortalities were down 13 percent from the 206 recorded in 2011.

Bear damage claims were down from 229 in 2011 to 210 in 2012. All bear hunters must purchase damage stamps, and stamp revenues are then used to reimburse property owners who suffer bear damage. Total payments of $274,329 were 26 percent lower than the $345,007 paid out in 2011. Most of the claims were for bee hives, livestock, corn and garden damage, and other claims.

With the record harvest of bears and lower damage claims, we can figure that there was enough, scattered mast to keep the bears in the woods and out of trouble on the farms and in the neighborhoods.

The bulletin also pulls together some interesting historical data. For instance, from 1964 to 1978 a grand total of only 912 legal bears were harvested over that entire 15 year period. That’s less than a hundred per year. The average continued until 1983 when 129 bears were harvested.

The DNR has always considered it its mandate to increase all the wildlife, and their management has done just that for deer and bear. Of course, the recovery of the forests from the badly timbered landscape of the early 1900s played a huge part. Also, many marginal farms from last century were abandoned and allowed to revert to timber.

But would bear hunters of the 1960s and 1970s ever have thought that the harvest in 30-to-40 years down the road would increase by 20 times over? Probably not.

Maybe we should give the bear hunters themselves some of the credit. No doubt there are more hunters with more tools at their disposal like GPS, laser sighted weapons, radio communications, transmitter collars on dogs, etc. These all add up to make them more effective.
Can bear dynamics continue to increase?

Hard to say. Twelve years ago this writer thought about deer population dynamics and wondered then if we would ever see deer numbers like that again. It seems that deer numbers have been in a steady decline for various reasons since then, and bear populations could trend the same way.
Nature is dynamic, constantly changing. Global warming, forest health and top predators all can have an effect on the future.

What seems clear is that right now is “the good old days” for bear hunters.

Enjoy it.

To get your copy of the “2012 Big Game Bulletin”, go to WVDNR.gov. Before you print that out on your home computer, be aware that it is 48 pages long and could bring your printer to its knees. And next time, we will talk about deer and turkeys.

More Big Game

Last week while hanging bluebird houses at the observatory, I came upon one birdhouse that had been out all winter. I removed the roof to clean it out and found it stuffed to the top with a material that looked like insulation. Closer inspection showed this not to be a Johns Manville product, but actually a stringy seed pod from a wild clematis. There was a brushy creek nearby and in late summer the viney wild clematis will cover the brush as it sometimes does to fence rows, with clusters of insignificant, white flowers.

The box was detached from the steel post and dumped on the ground to reveal three fat deer mice. Sometimes called field mice – all were sleeping soundly. Whether this was true hibernation or not, only one was willing to open his eyes and stir around a little. With every little noise, their ears would twitch. From a soft footfall, to my apology for the eviction, followed by my stern suggestion to “stay out,” the sound would register and the ears would twitch. But it didn’t register enough to wake them up. I left them there sleeping in the sun on the ground.

by Dave Curry

Max

He came from Sandy Mallow’s kennel near Durbin.  Just a few months old, all legs and big feet.  The runt of the litter.  Crate trained at a young age, he found out that he liked the family scene and didn’t care much about going outside.

When visitors came, he announced their presence as only a Plott can do.  Usually so loud it would hurt his own ears and he would shake his head.  But it didn’t stop him.

Max was already an old dog when we he first came into my life about three years ago.  He was part of a package deal along with his owner. 
If he got hold of a paper towel, he would slip off and tear it to shreds.  He could be ornery and sometimes a little stubborn.  When he was in trouble he would run and hide in the crate.

 Any tidbit from the table was manna from heaven to him.   He looked forward to our evening walks and would remind me when it was time to go by grumbling and mildly complaining.

When I had shift work, he was only too willing to double back and sleep a day shift near me.

He was a good companion and was always there with an enthusiastic welcome.

The walks became less frequent and slower.  At nearly a dozen years old, sometimes he just wanted to stand next to a friend and sniff the air.  I always said that he could sleep with the best of them.  And now he does.
He will be missed.

Around and above

Someone asked about robins last week as none had been seen yet.  There are probably several around, staying deep in the woods, protected by laurel and tall timber.  They will stick to the south facing slopes where the ground thaws quickly, in search of worms and other invertebrates.  These are the natives.  But others will pass through from their wintering grounds further south.

Then while driving down Rt. 28, near the Coonts farm, there suddenly appeared a large flock of robins.  Most were feeding on the ground, some were in the air leapfrogging a short way before settling down to feed some more.  All were meandering generally towards the north and will continue their slow journey until they find habitat to their liking.  Good cover, potential food sources, a little more warm weather and then they will be ready to get the nesting season started.

The first pair of killdeers has also made an appearance.  These elegant birds are excellent flyers but seem to prefer running on the ground.  Like miniature roadrunners, they dart in and out of the open areas and parking lots.

On the evening of the 9th, a raspy squawk coming from the swamp indicated the arrival of the first Red-winged Blackbird.  This shallow pond covered with cattails is always a popular place for the RWBs.  By May, there will be several nests there.

We peered down over the swamp pond from the Star patio of the Science Center at the NRAO while waiting for the monthly Star Party to begin.  Two telescopes were set up for action just waiting on the darkness.  One was a difficult little five inch Mead and the other a much more workable 11inch Celestron.

Bob Anderson and Frank Ghigo were there to orient the visitors to the night sky.  A group of students from the Providence School in Charlotte, North Carolina, were there and stayed in the bunkhouse for a couple of nights.  Two or three couples who were visiting the area also showed up.  Later, a small group of campers showed up with their own small reflector ‘scope.  That may be pushing the camping season a little as it had been six degrees that morning.

The sky looked iffy early on because of a few thin clouds obscuring things, but as it got darker and colder, the sky began to clear.  Jupiter was first to show and brought along all four of the Galilean moons.  It was especially bright and provided a nice accent in the bull, Taurus.

Nearby in the southern sky was the great winter hunt scene.  Orion was there in all his glory.  A favorite of most of the gods, he was considered the great hunter.  And if you follow a straight line from the three stars in his belt, you will come to Sirius, the brightest star in the sky and the eye of his biggest hunting dog.  The small dog, Canis Minor, is nearby as is Lepus, the rabbit, sitting quietly hoping all will soon pass by.  All the while, Orion stares off down the winding river Eradanus.  Higher overhead, the Gemini twins look over the whole scene.

Bob and Frank had hopes of seeing the comet, Pan-STARRS, but it got lost in the clutter along the western horizon.  Hopefully, they will have better luck with the next comet, ISON, coming in November.  It could be spectacularly bright, or not.  Comets have a way of disappointing.

The next Star Party should be during the new moon in early April.  For more details on times and weather, call 304-456-2150.

By Candice Magill
Arbovale

When Christian and I first moved to the Arbovale area after the death of my husband, I found. I really liked our little cabin.  My landlords are nice people, too.  It’s a quaint cabin with a deck that makes reading a book on the porch swing while sipping cool ice tea on a warm day, all the more enjoyable.   We’re not far from Trent’s General Store if we need something, and the people I have met since moving here are really very nice people.  Within a month or so I was privileged to meet my neighbor, Willard, who lives on top of the mountain across the road.  I have enjoyed several conversations with him as he shares his colorful mountain life experiences, he is such a joy to know.  I feel blessed to count him my friend.

The landscape outside my kitchen window holds within its soil an old tree with thorn bushes surrounding it and foreign green lichen covering its gnarly yucky branches.  The dormant and tall brown weeds are plentiful as my eyes scan the empty lot next door, hoping to catch the first rays of the sun rising over the mountains in the mornings.  I never liked the gnarly old tree with its thorny overgrowth and often thought how the view would be so much better should it be replaced with thick manicured green grass spotted with colorful flowers, or perhaps a fragrant lilac bush.

When I first drove the mountain roads during the night near Seneca, a couple of times I saw what appeared to be a large black standard size poodle running across the road in front of me.   I felt really silly when it finally dawned on me several miles later that what I had seen had actually been a bear.

Then one dark snowy night the most beautiful white homing pigeon showed up on my deck near the tree.  When I opened my door, she just flew right into the cabin and proceeded to make herself at home.   While not totally out of the norm, it was slightly unusual for me to go around lying down newspaper for this stunning, but uninvited, snow white creature.   She followed me from room to room.  If I put wood in the stove and turned around, she was there. 

Coming out of the bathroom, there she was outside the door looking up at me.  My heart was totally captivated by her charming disposition.  I knew she had to belong to somebody.  I set out to find my friend, Arnie, who had some pigeons of his own and he helped me locate her owner, Wayne, who lived down the road.  Wayne stopped by our cabin and with such a compassionate attitude toward my enchantment of “Snowy” the pigeon, he permitted me to keep her for a few days.   What a wonderful neighbor with an equally wonderful heart, not to mention pigeon.

One morning as I looked out the window, in the branches of the old tree I saw these rolly polly big round birds picking at the remaining sparse red berries.  I grabbed my binoculars to get a closer look at this strange but intriguing sight.  My laughter bounced off the cabin walls as I watched their comical antics while they walked the branches with their big, round bodies.  I likened them to a circus tightrope show for more than once they would lose their balance reaching for one of those shriveled up berries.

Soon the first grouse I ever saw relocated to the ground and settled in the weeds, laying down for what I assumed was a rest from walking the wooden tightrope. I kept watch on my little visitors until the next morning when they disappeared and moved on to their next food source.

Occasionally, during breakfast, a beautiful song would arise from a bird sitting up in those same branches  and it would brighten my day.   Quickly I would bring everything to silence in the cabin just so I could relish the sound of their song.    Later, the first dusting of snow brought noticeable bunny tracks around the tree.  As I followed the maze of tracks from the tree to behind the cabin, I found bare soil indented near the foundation’s wall.   It would appear my little “thumper” had made his home under mine.   It brought a smile to my face as I welcomed another life form besides our own.

When the first snow melted, I noticed a large bowl of snow still in the old tree. It was an old nest - now vacant from the feathered family that once lived within its delicate architecture.  I wondered as I stared at the large old nest whom it once housed.  I still like seeing the nest up in that unsightly old tree, even if it is empty. Perhaps because I can imagine any story to fit its existence.  The one I imagine the most often is the one of the former tenants possible return.

The mountains are beautiful, as their rivers and creeks wind their way along the roadside for all to see their swift but nonchalant flow.  To lower a fishing line in the water only to see the fish swimming 12 feet down is astounding.   Even the brown deciduous ridge lines along the mountains during the winter, outline the stunning beauty of the area.  I have really enjoyed being here.  There are many things I find beautiful.

One day of mountain life gave me the experience of finding an injured raven like those I see in the tree next door.  Although enduring the great excruciating pain of a wing torn with buckshot, he scouted the floorboard of my old truck finding a stray French fry that seemed to have been waiting under the seat just for him.  The 400 foot plus drive through the river to take the injured raven to a habitat, was an exciting experience in itself.

Waking up to this heavy snow pouring out of the white sky this morning was not exactly a welcomed sight in my book, however.  After building a quick seasonal snowman or two, I am always ready for warmer weather.  So, it’s not unusual for me to become a winter hermit.

Scraping the snow from the deck this morning so I would not slip as I prepared to carry in some of my dwindling supply of wood to keep my cabin warm, I took a break.   After hanging up my jacket, I was standing by the window looking past that old tree to what appeared to be a tiger cat in the weeds. 
Although it was 60 plus feet away in tall weeds,  it was definitely larger than most cats.  I scrambled for my binoculars but could not locate them.  I grabbed my glasses near the rocker, slipping them on to catch a better look.   I soon realized this tiger cat was three to four times larger than a house cat.  I wondered to myself as I looked toward its tail. The tail was half as long as a normal cat and it was then that I realized I was watching a bobcat.  As it was stalking its prey, it’s whole body moved in spring like unison, but without so much as a squeak.   I found it incredible and was totally entrenched at watching it walk slowly and noiselessly through the weeds.  Taking my eyes off the window for only a few seconds, when I looked back I saw the bobcat with a black bird in its mouth.   My eyes must have become as big as saucers while my adrenaline was pumping, for now the bobcat was walking straight for that dumb  old tree next to the cabin.   How incredibly beautiful this cat was as I watched it walking toward my cabin window.  It ducked under the twisted branches of the old tree.  I was hoping it would walk just a few feet closer to the clearing under the  branches so I could get a really up close and personal look.   Instead it turned and headed past the trunk of the tree, through the thorn bushes and tall weeds.  Then it was gone.

This morning I just wanted to tell the world how much I enjoy being here.

I love my cabin, the general store, the clear rivers, the brown deciduous mountain ridges, the bear running across the road, the agile deer scattered throughout the region,  “Snowy” bird who lives across the way, the birds who fight for the seed in Willard’s feeders while he weaves a fresh story for my ears, and the elusive bobcat who thrilled my flatlander heart.  And I have come to view that gnarly old tree in the lot next door differently over the past months.  It seems to hold new surprises each morning.  One day it may be “thumper tracks,” the next day an imaginative story of former feathered residents gone by, or new wooden tightrope walkers.  A friendly pigeon finding shelter, or some days a perfectly exquisite song or two.  But, on those really special mornings, one may wake up to an astonishing, magnificent bobcat making his way through its twisted old branches with his catch of the day.

God says that all good and perfect things come from above.  Thank you, Jehovah, for the many good and perfect aspects of your creation with which you ceaselessly overjoy my heart.  How glorious and endlessly amazing you are. Thank you Pocahontas county natives for sharing a wave of your hand and the beauty of the land.

I drive my dad’s old pick-up truck now since he is gone, and think often of our former road trips together.  I wish he could have seen this place—for he’d love it here.   Although I have no family here, I love so much about being here.  But do you know what I have really come to love the most of all the things I have seen?  I wish you could see and experience it as I have.  It is the gnarly old tree all covered with lichens, surrounded by thorn bushes and tall weeds which grows near the cabin, and all the wonders its branches may hold.

May it never be cut down and replaced with a lilac bush or some stupid manicured green lawn. The gnarly old tree is so much more beautiful.

By Dave Curry

It is a privilege and an honor to contribute my little bit of knowledge to the Field Notes.  Researching and reflecting on the natural world is fun as well as a continuous learning experience.

This column was begun by a young newspaper editor, Cal Price, nearly a hundred years ago.  He went on to become a great conservationist, self-taught environmentalist, and student of life.    From panther stories to life on the farm, from the latest sheep killing bear removal to the first tomato of summer, Cal had a constant interest in our natural world.

It is a pleasure to contribute my two-cents worth, but this time we may be breaking new ground.

While channel surfing my way down the TV remote one lazy afternoon, the words “Here we are in the Greenbrier Valley of West Virginia” caught my attention. I paused for more  information while the screen filled with rolling mountains and deep valleys in full autumn glory that could be anywhere in West Virginia.
The program was “Finding Bigfoot” on the Animal Planet channel.  A team of researchers travel the country checking out Bigfoot sightings and had come to Pocahontas County to talk with a young researcher, David Stennis.

David is a 17-year-old senior at Pocahontas County High School and son of NRAO engineer Mike Stennis.  They live in Green Bank in an area known as the Rabbit Patch.  David had his own encounter with Bigfoot nearby in 2005. 

“I came out of the house toward the clubhouse in the backyard and saw this large, dark creature on the edge of the woods about 50 yards away,” he said.  “I ran back into the house, grabbed the camera and came out and got a couple of pictures.”

This was the beginning of his quest.  Since then David has developed that interest and continued the search for Sasquatch.  He and his friends have hiked, traveled, called, recorded audios, taken pictures and done all manner of research hoping to have further encounters with Bigfoot.  David maintains his own website and Facebook page to solicit input from others.  This can be accessed at WestVirginiaBigfoot.com

“Finding Bigfoot” is a popular show on the Animal Planet and is replayed several times each week.   Many segments of the show can be pulled up at their website on Discovery.com

Folks came to visit David last October after finding some of his pictures on a blogspot and to film a short piece for their show.  That segment aired in late January.

David was probably surprised when the entire Bigfoot team of nearly a dozen support people turned up.  In addition to the technicians for cameras, lights and equipment, they also had infrared and night vision gear as well as audio recording equipment.

There are four principals in the cast.   Matt has degrees in literature and law and appears to be the leader of the team.  Cliff is a teacher and jazz guitarist.  Bobo is the third member of this group, all from California and might come closer than the others to resembling Bigfoot.  All have several years of experience in this field of research.

The fourth member of the team is Ranae.  She is from South Dakota and is a legitimate scientific researcher, having done much field work in Alaska and Washington on fisheries. 

While all four seriously hope to prove the existence of the “big guy,” Ranae is the skeptic.  She makes sure that field work is done correctly and scientific principles are followed.

The Bigfoot Hunters spent most of a day and part of an evening with David, doing some field research on the mountain behind the Recreation Area at the observatory.  The thermal imaging cameras and parabolic antennas were employed.  Calls were made and recordings done but no “sqatches” were heard or seen.  Eventually the camera time was edited down to about eight minutes that was shown on the Animal Planet show.

David said that he had a great time meeting and working with the Bigfoot hunters.  Seeing how they go about their work and the equipment they use was the most interesting for him.

What started for him as a joke has turned into a serious obsession and may turn into his life’s work.  We certainly wish him the best of luck.

Legends of Bigfoot go back hundreds of years and most every native-American group had their own name for them.  Sasquatch is the most commonly known or accepted name.  Early historians wrote about them.  Daniel Boone claimed to have shot one.

But it was not until 1967 when a grainy 8mm film by Patterson and Gimlin purportedly showed a huge, hairy biped walking up a creek bed.  That is when Bigfoot crossed over the line into pop culture.

There are literally dozens of Bigfoot hunters “out there”.  A computer search will reveal many groups, individuals, blog spots, clubs and Facebook pages dedicated to the pursuit of Sasquatch.  There are an equal number of folks ready to stage or act out an encounter or to Photoshop an image just for orneriness.

This writer will continue to be skeptical.  It will take something more than a fuzzy, dark photo taken at a long distance to convince me.
However, it might be fun to play the “devil’s advocate” for a little bit.

For instance, we need to remember that the natural world is dynamic, constantly changing.  It usually doesn’t happen overnight but change can happen fairly quickly.

One hundred years ago, a primary component of the forest was the chestnut, which fed many of our critters, domestic and wild.  Long since wiped out by a fungus disease, the diets of wildlife had to change.  The large tracts of giant spruce were largely wiped out by loggers in the same time frame.  Some spruce has recovered but the landscape has changed with birch and cherry filling in the gaps.

The weather patterns have changed.  Whether cyclic or man-caused, there is little doubt of this change.

One hundred years ago, the white-tailed deer were scarce.  With proper management to grow the herd and with top predators being wiped out, there has been a huge swing in the deer population to get to present day levels.

Thirty years ago, a hunter would have been hard pressed to find a coyote in this area.  There are plenty of coyotes here now and that population increase coincides directly with the deer herd.  The same thing could probably be said about the Black Vulture, a recent emigrant into this area over the last 40 years.  With lots of venison road kill to feed on, they are competing well with the native turkey buzzard.

Is it not possible to believe that Bigfoot was forced out by early settlers into remote regions and is only now recovering and adapting?  Many researchers claim that Sasquatch eats deer.  Could the increased sightings be a direct result of the increased deer herd?

Or maybe not.

Earlier, we mentioned “breaking new ground” and now wonder if Bigfoot was ever mentioned in the early days of Field Notes.  No doubt things happened that are unexplainable.

Certainly Cal Price would be interested.  If he were alive and had that opportunity, he might even be in the forefront of research for Bigfoot.
 

By Dave Curry

A big groundhog showed up last Wednesday at the observatory near the observation deck. On a south facing slope, he stood up and looked out over the broom sage, probably wondering what was going on. Twenty four hours later, temps had dropped and an inch of snow covered the ground. Mr. Groundhog was no doubt back in his den dreaming of fields of clover or whatever it is that groundhogs dream about. Cold winds with a little snow continued on through the weekend as winter grinds into spring.

The moon is waxing toward full on the 25th and yes, we did just receive our 2013 copy of the Harris’ Farmer’s Almanac. Anytime in the last quarter – after March 4 – would be good for planting those fruit trees, as long as the ground is thawed. If still frozen, then another opportunity will come along in early April.

It is seldom that you see a really good explanation of planting by the signs, but this year’s almanac has just that. Nestled in between the erectile dysfunction correction and spiritual psychic ads was the best description of gardening by the moon phases one could want. In general waxing, or as the moon gradually increases towards the full, bright moon is generally considered the best time to plant above ground crops like lettuce, beans and cabbage. The waning moon, as it moves to the dark or new phase, is the time to plant below ground crops such as potatoes and carrots.

Some farmers prefer the advanced detail of the daily signs. In other words, the 28 day lunar calendar is divided among the 12 signs of the Zodiac. Half are barren signs, good for harvesting or weeding. The other six are called the fruitful signs, good for planting and growing.

The signs may also govern many other aspects of everyday life, such as when to put shingles on the roof so that they will lay flat and not turn up on the corners. If bull calves are being turned into steers, there is a best day for that. If fence is being built or trees are being pruned, the almanac will suggest a suitable day. Long before iPhones had bunches of applications to guide and entertain you through your day, the almanac had an app for that.

Scarlet Cup – Showy Harbinger of Spring
by Gwen Balogh
Pocahontas Nature Club

My son and I went for a hike up along a southeast facing slope of Droop Mountain late in the afternoon on February 11 – mainly to view and photograph a frozen waterfall.

Skirting the damp bottom of a steep, mossy rock face, we were greeted by at least a dozen of the most intensely blood-red fungi in North America – Scarlet Cup (Sarcoscypha austriaca). Although some were partly hidden by brown leaves, even the tiniest slivers of these brilliant beauties were conspicuous.
Commonly appearing in March, Scarlet Cup is one of the earliest of our springtime fungi – and certainly the most eye-catching! Found in moist sections of mixed deciduous forests, it often occurs in the same spots year after year.

I have rarely come across them in February, so it was quite a treat to discover so many.

Scarlet Cup is non-poisonous but most sources report it as none-too-tasty – and besides, I think they’re way too pretty to eat!

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