It is Christmas time and this Christmas has been a particular blessing to me.  Last Christmas, many members of my family drove up from Texas and we had a wonderful time entertaining them and showing them around.  That was a blessing, too.  This Christmas, for several reasons, Deena and I spent the Holiday on our own.  But in New England, you are never quite alone.  Many things in my advanced years are unfolding before my eyes, last seen in my childhood, and I’d like to share them with you, starting with an Ăchtóhu Winter (Ăchtóhu referring to the presence of deer.)

On Christmas night, I was taking our golden retriever Molly outside for one last time before bed.  We have a smaller, fenced in area within our larger unfenced back yard where at night we let Molly out for a few minutes before retiring.  We confine her to this smaller yard in case there is a black bear roaming around, turning over the birdfeeders looking for food.  There are also fisher cats breaking the icy silence with their frightful screams, skunks, porcupines and an occasional moose wandering in the area who is likely more confused than I.  And then there are deer.  So, we don’t want Molly to tangle with anything in the dark.  As soon as she ran out into the enclosure, she started barking furiously.  Not an angry, threatening bark. Just an “Opa, come check this out” bark.  With our golden retriever, it’s not enough for her to see something exciting to her.  She insists on sharing it with us.  I peered into the dim light of the rapidly approaching night.  About 100 feet away in the moonlight were two white-tail deer.  They seemed to lose interest in Molly once it became clear that she was not able to give chase to them.  But I quickly ushered Molly back inside so our visitors could have their peace.  I asked Deena if I could have two of the apples she had bought earlier, and before she could respond, I was back in the yard with the apples.  I could not see the deer at that point, but I sensed they were probably watching me from the tree line.  I threw the apples in the snow and went back into the house.  This morning, I saw deer tracks in the yard and the apples were gone.  Using the sleuthing skill I learned as a child sniffing out hidden Christmas presents two weeks before the occasion, I discovered that the snow had been pawed away from where one of the apples had landed.  I decided that one of the deer had stirred the snow looking for something else to munch on.  The missing apples gave me a sense of satisfaction.  I only hoped the deer shared the apples between them. Added points if you can guess what I did last night.

(It was only three years ago around Christmas when we were living at the mountain house house. Near evening, I happened to glance at the woods fifty yards away. I saw eight deer moving swiftly and silently through the trees like merchant ships running a blockade, intent on not being molested or even observed. And once, Deena and I saw half a hundred white-tails loitering about in a field, foraging for food.)

Earlier on Christmas day as Deena and I exchanged our gifts, I unwrapped a book she purchased for me written by my favorite naturalist, Bernd Heinrich who teaches at the University of Vermont, only 160 miles from here.  Dr. Heinrich is a latter-day Thoreau, and this particular book is a study on life and death in the New England woods.  If you love reading about nature, I highly recommend it.  It seems that as much of his time is spent with his graduate students in Maine as it is in the classroom.  Or, perhaps the Maine woods is his classroom?

There is always something in nature happening here.  Last week, I was again in our backyard when I heard the unmistakable commotion of geese. It took me a moment to find them but I discovered a squadron of almost one hundred of these magnificent birds flying overhead, bearing south by southwest.  They were about five hundred feet high.  Now, we also had deer and geese in Texas when Deena and I lived there, but somehow, they seem more at home in the north.  This morning, I heard a choir of chickadees chattering excitedly while ruffling their feathers as they sunned themselves. Tomorrow, who knows what might turn up?

SNOWFALL

Living in the Hudson Valley, snow fall is much less than the surrounding area, even though the total amount of precipitation is the same. What falls as snow in the surrounding counties is ofter rain where Deena and I live. Much of our county is only ~210 feet above sea level. The Catskills is the closest mountain range and it spills into the western part of the county. The highest elevation in the Catskills is just over 4,000 feet. Generally, the Catskills get 3-4 times as much snow, and the distance between where we live and somewhere with an elevation of 3,000 or more feet can be as little as fifteen miles. A half-hours drive east of where we live takes you into the Taconic mountains, followed by the Berkshires. To the north there are the Adirondacks. And if you follow the Adirondacks due north until you emerge from the range, you are only a short distance from Canada.

THE SUBNIVEAN MAZE

I scanned the yard with its four or five inches of accumulated snow.  I learned from reading several of Dr. Heinrich’s many books that beneath the white covering of snow was an entire biome called the subnivean zone:

“The subnivean zone is the area between the ground and the bottom of the snowpack, and it’s a vital habitat for many animals and plants during the winter.”

The term comes from a compound of the Latin word “sub” meaning beneath and “nives,” or snow.  The zone is constructed between alternating snow melt and refreezing.  More precisely,

“Subnivean zones are created when the snow falls and covers the ground. In places, small plants, tree roots, or rock act as umbrellas keeping pockets of air under the accumulating snow fall. When the snow reaches a depth, generally of about 6 inches, sublimation occurs. The warmer air from the ground causes the snow along the ground’s surface to not melt, but vaporize. The water vapor rises and then refreezes along the bottom of the snow, sturdily encrusting a space that rodents, insects and plants will use.  The relatively warm (32ºF approx.) subnivean space allows many animals protection from winter’s harsh climates and from predators (though, many predators are wise to the subnivea and have their own ways of capturing prey).”

Mice, voles, shrews, and other critters all construct an elaborate tunnel system and commute in relative safety from place to place.  Their continued survival ensures that there is food for owls and bears, who are subject to whims of the prey-predator cycle as much as foxes and rabbits are.

When an honest-to-goodness thaw sets in, you can sometimes hear a muffled sound as the many meters of tunnels collapse under the weight of the remaining snow. Often, this means the death of those denizens who are caught in the tunnels as they cave in.

OUR LIFE WHERE THE WATERS ARE NEVER STILL

As I mentioned in another post, the Mohicans once lived where I live today.  They were called Kanien’kehakaor “People of the Flint,” though they referred to themselves as the Mahicannituck or “People of the Waters that are Never Still¹” (referring to the Hudson River.)  The Mohicans called our backyard deer ăchtóhu and the occasional black bear with a taste for bar-b-que, berries and bird seed, màchq.  Mohicans were part of the Algonquin Nation, as opposed to Mohawks who were Iroquois.  A great Mohican Sachem, the word for “Chief” whose name was Skiwias, once lived in and ruled from what would later become my hamlet. Even today, the Mohigans own land in my town and return regularly the land of their ancestors.

Among these tribes was a minor deity named Gohone who was their god of winter. It was Gohone who brought the snow and ice as a means of cleansing the earth from the sins and sorrows of the past year. Gohone was said to normally live in the sky, to whence he returns in Spring just before the flowers bloom and the trees bud. But he prowls the hills and valleys until then and his breath creates the boreal winds that blow across the land. Gohone was thought to be an old man with a stick, much like Gandalf of Middle Earth, who would strike the limbs or trees to bring them to the ground, using his frosty powers. He was also credited with creating the Aurora Borealis.

SIGNS

One of the things I love about winter are animal tracks. When there is fresh snow, not only can you identify the many animals that visit your home when you are fast asleep, but you can tell a little about them as well. For example, perhaps the most common tracks you’ll see in New England are rabbit tracks, which I’ve included in the photo. They are characteristic and unlike other animal tracks because of the way a rabbit hops. The trick is to know in which direction the rabbit is going. In the trackway shown, the rabbit is moving from right to left. This is because the two impressions side by side impressions which are larger than the two inline indentations are made by the rabbit’s muscular hind legs. When a rabbit hops, the front feet land first and the rear feet land ahead of the front feet. If the trackway weaves (meanders) it is possible that the rabbit is foraging for foot. If it seems like the rabbit knows where it is going, then it might be headed home and you can locate it by following the trail. You can also get an idea of whether it was in a hurry based on the spacing between the tracks and sometimes you can tell if it was being pursued by another animal.

SOUNDS OF SILENCE

When you are outdoors on a cold winters day the silence is deafening. Yet, for technical reasons too complicated to go into here, it is an established fact that on a wintry day in the woods with a temperature below freezing, sound travels much futher than it normally does. Sounds will also be amplified because ot he effects of weather on the sound waves, so you will be able to hear sounds from a greater distance than normal. Also, because the ground is frozen, its hard surface reflects sound waves as well. Think of a large empty room with and without carpeting. Soft, textured carpeting absorbs sound so you don’t have something like an echo effect in the room if there is no carpeting. Given the fact that you hear sounds over greater distances and the sounds that you do hear are amplified, the acoustics are almost knife-like in that they have razor sharp properties. Hunters and hikers who frequent the wintry woods will tells you that you actually feel more alive in that environment.

Freezing temperatures also create noises from the trees, specifically popping or cracking noises. In fact, this effect is called frost cracking:

Frost cracks have to do with a rapid change of temperature during winter. During the day, the sun shines on the tree’s trunk. Unlike the summer months, when the trunk and branches are shaded by leaves, the sun has full access to the bark in winter. The sun’s rays warm up the inner wood and raises the temperature of the water flowing through it.

But then the sun…sets [at] night, and the tree is faced with an extreme change in temperature. The temperature outside the tree drops, but the inner wood that has been warmed by the sun takes longer to adjust to the cooler temperatures.

This extreme difference in heat starts to affect the tree…As temperatures drop, water in the bark freezes, causing the bark to contract. At the same time, the much warmer water in the inner wood is still flowing, and this difference causes the bark and the wood to split – suddenly and loudly.

Frost cracks often happen after cold, sunny days, when nighttime temperatures drop precipitously. Because the sun hits the south and west sides of a tree, those are the areas most susceptible to damage.

Young trees and those with thin bark are the most likely to suffer from frost cracks, as the sun can more easily warm the inner wood.”

You will also hear creaking sounds from the branches of evergreen trees as they labor under the weight of the snow. Not to be overlooked, ponds and lakes also provide similar sounds from the expansion of the ice. I grew up near the Delaware River which would freeze over in winter. The adults would start a wagering pool each winter where people would place bets on the day that the ice would break. On that day, people miles away from the river would hear a loud boom, enough to wake you if it happened at night, and car-sized blocks of ice would be tossed on the river’s shores as the crevasse spread. up and down the river like a zipper.

THE LION IN WINTER

Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) was one of the most influential naturalists and writers that the United States had ever produced. He was an inspiration to advocates of change such as Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King a century later. Thoreau appreciated the New England winter. He was said to have remarked once to a visitor from out of state:

“Why do you flee so soon, sir, to the theaters, lecture-rooms, and museums of the city? If you will stay here a while I will promise you strange sights. You shall walk on water; all these brooks and rivers and ponds shall be your highway. You shall see the whole earth covered a foot or more deep with purest white crystals . . . and all the trees and stubble glittering in icy armor.“

Thoreau lived for a short time at Walden, near Concord, Massachusetts where his parents lived. He journaled his two year long stay at Walden Pond and you can read about in a book called “Walden” or “Walden: Life in the Woods.” Thoreau was a contemporary and friend of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Thoreau died at the age of 44 from bronchitis exacerbated by tuberculosis. But his naturalist, political and literary legacy remains. Thoreau was a man for all seasons, but a still a lion in winter (with apologies to Henry II.)

PAUSING TO PONDER

If you wish to mull or discuss these things, or just take a break from life, there are many places to visit in the area. Deena and I enjoy history, so we look forward to going to the Lion’s Den, part of the Red Lion Inn in Stockbridge, MA. It was first opened in 1773 as the Colonials were trying to chart the destiny of this new land, still under British rule. Stockbridge, itself, is a page out of a Norman Rockwell calendar. In fact, Rockwell’s museum is almost a walking distance from Main Street. Around the corner from the Red Lion is the famous, but now shuttered Alice’s Restaurant. Another historical bar and grill we like is the Tavern at Beekman Arms in Rhinebeck, NY. It was originally opened in 1704 as the Traphagen Tavern. George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, the Marquis de La Fayette, Aaron Burr, Robert Livingston and many more distinguished patrons either stayed at the Inn or drank ale in the Inn’s tavern. Moreso than the Den, the Tavern in Rhinebeck seems to ooze in historical ambience.

These are some of the many things that appeal to two septuagenarians who, having traveled far and near in life, have returned to their ancestral home.

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FOOTNOTE

¹Some interpretations of Mahicannituck and an alternate spelling (Muhheakantuck) mean “Water that Flows Both Ways” and refers to the tides of the Atlantic seen 150 miles upriver. Water normally runs downstream, of course. But the tides can also force water upstream. Typical daily tides in Albany, NY run between three feet to six feet when you contrast low tide to high tide. Depending on the geography of the land immediately bordering the river, the difference can be more than three times that!