Category: Tompkins County

Reeds of Resilience: A Tale of Growth and Survival

Discover the hidden world of Phragmites australis, the common reed: a story of resilience, beauty, and ecological significance, told through the eyes of the wetlands.

MichaelStephenWills4 Comments

On the southern shore of Cayuga Lake, where waters mirror the ever-changing sky, I found this common reed, Phragmites australis, a plant of unassuming grace yet profound influence. This tale unfolds at the broad boarders of earth and water, a refuge and kingdom to countless beings.

Phragmites australis, a reed both simple and complex, begins its journey as a whisper in the mud. From the soft, fertile earth, it bursts forth into the world, a slender shoot reaching for the heavens. Its growth is steady and assured, fueled by the sun’s embrace and the water’s caress. In time, it stands tall, a sentinel in a sea of green, its feathery plumes, called panicles, wafted by the breeze.

This reed, you see, is a cornerstone of its ecosystem, a master architect, shaping its environment, crafting homes and havens for creatures great and small, in keeping with the genus name “Phragmites.” The Greek word “phragma” translates to “fence” or “hedge”, derived from the verb “phrassein”, meaning “to enclose.” Within that realm tiny creatures find refuge. From dragonflies and damselflies to grasshoppers and beetles are found by careful, patient observers. Insects play essential roles in pollination and nutrient cycling. Birds use the dense vegetation for shelter and foraging, you might find red-winged blackbirds, marsh wrens, and rails among the stems. Frogs, toads, and salamanders find refuge in reedy marshes. They lay their eggs in the waterlogged areas, and their tadpoles thrive amidst the reed stems. Phragmites australis is a giver of life, a source of sustenance and protection for many.

Yet, the tale of Phragmites is also one of struggle and resilience. In lands far from its native soil, it is often seen as an invader, a usurper of territories, spreading with a zeal that can overwhelm native flora and alter habitats. Its spread, unchecked, can lead to monocultures, diminishing biodiversity. But in its essence, Phragmites does not seek conquest but survival, thriving in spaces both gentle and harsh, adapting with an elegance that commands admiration.

As seasons turn, the reed undergoes a transformation, its green turning to gold, then to the brown of the earth from which it sprang. But even in decay, it nurtures life, its fallen stalks a shelter for the small and the silent, its seeds a promise of renewal. And when spring whispers anew, Phragmites rises once more, a cycle unbroken, a circle complete.

In the tale of Phragmites australis, we find a narrative of life itself—growth and decay, beauty and conflict, resilience and adaptation. This common reed, standing tall among the waters of the world, is a testament to the enduring power of nature, a reminder of the intricate tapestries of life that flourish in the quiet corners of our planet.

Click Me for another posting on the Common Reed.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Nesting Chronicles: The Life of A Cayuga Lake Osprey

Imagine you’re soaring with ospreys over Cayuga’s shimmering waters, preparing the nest, embracing the ritual of spring—a majestic cycle of life awaits you.

MichaelStephenWills17 Comments

As the first warm breezes of early spring ruffle the chilled waters at the south end of Cayuga Lake, anticipation rises in me. I am a female Osprey, returning alone from far to the south along the old sky-roads. We do not migrate as a pair; my mate often reaches the nest ahead of me to reclaim the site and begin repairs. Still, this is the place we claim again, season after season.

Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park. Cayuga Lake in the distance.

On arrival I wheel high above the shoreline, searching for the platform we left to winter. There it stands—the tall sentinel above the lake. He is there, too, calling once as he lifts, and the rim already shows the first fresh sticks of the year. Against the bright sky the nest looks rough-hewn, yet every branch lies to a purpose.

Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park.

As I settled onto the platform, tthe familiar tilt of the timbers and the dry rattle of last year’s sticks steady me. I meticulously inspected our creation, the repository of our hopes and future lineage. My mate and I ferry fresh twigs and weeds, wedging them into the rim and lacing the walls tight against the spring winds.

In due time, beneath the sheltering rim, I laid a small clutch of mottled eggs—the culmination of our bond, the promise of continuity. Through the weeks that follow I keep them warm and dry, turning them with my beak and settling the heat of my breast upon them. My mate does the heavy work of provision—fish after fish to the rail—and stands guard, calling when intruders drift close. Now and then he eases onto the eggs while I feed, but the watching and warming are chiefly mine.

Two Osprey perched on the nest near the Birding Trail of Cass Park.

The world around us burgeoned with life. The lake’s surface now rippled with the activity of fish – a bounty for our growing family. Days turned into weeks, and our vigilance was rewarded as the first cracks appeared in the eggs. The chicks emerged, delicate yet voracious, their mouths agape for the nourishment we unceasingly provide.

Click Me for another Osprey Post

Thank you Candace E. Cornell of the Cayuga Lake Osprey Network for your helpful advice.

For further information: —–Poole, Alan F. ; 2019, “Ospreys: The Revival of a Global Raptor”; Johns Hopkins University Press —Mackrill, Tim; 2024; “The Osprey”; Bloomsbury Publishing

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Tuxedos on Tour: Three Majestic Mergansers

Join the escapade as you witness three majestic Mergansers, donning nature’s finest tuxedos, in a graceful ballet on the springtime stage of Cayuga Lake.

MichaelStephenWills4 Comments

As you gaze upon these three fine feathered fellows, all members of the exclusive Common Merganser men’s club, they seem to glide upon the watery stage of Cayuga Lake with all the confidence of Broadway stars on opening night. They are the aquatic equivalent of a sharply dressed barbershop quartet, minus one, in their matching tuxedos, ready to sing the springtime serenade of their species.

The chap at the forefront is Captain Black-Crest, sporting a glossy noggin that shimmers with an inner light, undoubtedly the envy of every duck on the pond. He’s streamlined and debonair, with a white body that’s as crisp as the first snowfall and a dark back that’s as sleek as a shadow in moonlight. If ducks had monocles and top hats, he’d be first in line.

In the middle, there’s Sir Dapper-Diver, a mirror image of his companion, with a neck as white as the driven snow and a dignified black back that gleams like polished onyx in the dappled sunlight. He’s the quiet achiever of the group, poised and ready to make the plunge into the depths below, proving that style need not be sacrificed for substance.

And to the right, meet Admiral Feather-Finesse. His poise on the water suggests a mastery of the waves, a commander of the current. He carries his elegant attire with an air of grace that only comes with a natural pedigree. In synchronized perfection, he and his brethren form a regatta of refinement, a display of nature’s own black-tie affair.

These are male Common Merganser (Mergus merganser) in breeding plumage, characterized the body white with a variable salmon-pink tinge, the head black with an iridescent green gloss, the rump and tail grey, and the wings largely white on the inner half, black on the outer half. Like the other mergansers, these piscivorous ducks have serrated edges to their bills to help them grip their prey, so they are often known as “sawbills”. In addition to fish, they take a wide range of other aquatic prey, such as molluscs, crustaceans, worms, insect larvae, and amphibians; more rarely, small mammals and birds may be taken. As in other birds with the character, the salmon-pink tinge shown variably by males is probably diet-related, obtained from the carotenoid pigments present in some crustaceans and fish. When not diving for food, they are usually seen swimming on the water surface, or resting on rocks in midstream or hidden among riverbank vegetation, or (in winter) on the edge of floating ice.

Together, these three Common Mergansers (Mergus merganser) in their prime are a trifecta of elegance, a testament to the timeless beauty found in nature’s simplicity. They paddle forth with purpose, their matching plumage a striking contrast to the rippling blues and grays of the water, a parade of poise and plumage that delights the observant eye.

So, dear reader, as you observe this photo, take a moment to appreciate the charming uniformity and the subtle quirks that make each bird, despite their shared wardrobe, uniquely magnificent. It’s a snapshot of life at its most graceful, a picture worth far more than a mere thousand words.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Spring Renewal and the Buoys of Change

As you glimpse the strewn buoys at Cayuga’s shore, consider the tales they hold—witnesses to history, guiding vessels through New York’s storied waters. Delve into their journey from the Erie Canal’s birth to today’s spring awakening.

MichaelStephenWills7 Comments

As the crisp air of spring begins to soften and the last remnants of winter recede, you might find yourself drawn to the outdoors, eager to participate in the age-old tradition of spring cleaning. It is a time of renewal, of clearing away the old to make way for the new. In Ithaca, this period of rejuvenation extends beyond the confines of cluttered homes and into the expansive natural landscape, as shown in the photograph before you.

Spring cleaning and repair at the Alan H. Treman Marine Boat Park. Ithaca, New York, Tompkins County

Tidying the Shores


There, on the shores of Cayuga Lake, the scene is a stark contrast to the neat rows of daffodils you admired yesterday. Instead, navigation buoys, those steadfast guides of the waterways, lie upended and scattered – casualties of the winter’s harshness or perhaps the diligent work of park employees preparing for the upcoming boating season. These buoys, usually afloat, marking safe passage for vessels, are now being tended to, maintained, and readied. It is an essential process, akin to the annual spring clean, ensuring the safety and smooth sailing in the months to come.

Guardians of the Waterways


Let’s delve into the history these buoys are part of. You, as a curious observer, are witnessing a fragment of a narrative that stretches back over a century. These navigational buoys are descendants of the earliest markers that adorned the inland waters of New York State and the Erie Canal, of which Cayuga Lake is an integral part.

The Erie Canal and Cayuga’s Connection


The Erie Canal, an engineering marvel of the 19th century, opened in 1825, transforming New York and the entire Great Lakes region. It was the superhighway of its time, connecting the Atlantic Ocean to the Great Lakes, and thereby shaping the course of economic and social history in the United States. Cayuga Lake, connected to this system via the Cayuga-Seneca Canal, was part of this vast network of navigable waters.

Navigation Buoys: Beacons of Progress


As commerce flourished, so too did the need for reliable navigation. The buoys, then as now, served as critical signposts, ensuring that vessels could traverse these waterways safely. Imagine the countless boats that relied on these markers – from the large freighters carrying goods to the smaller craft bearing passengers – each buoy a sentinel ensuring their safe passage.

Modern Sentinels


Today, the navigation buoys on Cayuga Lake and other inland waters continue this legacy. They are the modern sentinels of the deep, equipped with the latest technology to guide the way. Just as the Erie Canal once heralded a new era of travel and trade, these buoys now symbolize the enduring importance of safe and efficient water transportation.

The Future of Inland Navigation


As you reflect upon the photograph, consider the ongoing narrative of these buoys and the waterways they mark. In a world increasingly concerned with sustainable modes of transportation, the historical importance of these channels resurfaces. The waterways that once fueled the expansion of a nation may once again play a pivotal role, this time in the quest for greener alternatives to overland routes.

Conclusion: A Cycle of Renewal


The upturned buoys in Cass Park, ready for their spring cleaning, are a microcosm of the cyclical nature of life and progress. They remind you that renewal is not just about beauty; it is also about preserving the functionality and safety that allow society to move forward. Just as the spring cleaning in your home ushers in a new season of clarity and freshness, the maintenance of these navigational aids renews the commitment to a legacy of safe passage – a promise made by the generations that have sailed these waters since the days of the Erie Canal.

A Path Lined with Promise: Spring’s Embrace in Ithaca

Happy April 1, 2024

MichaelStephenWills15 Comments

You find yourself on the cusp of spring, the earth slowly awakens from its wintery slumber, and life begins to stir in the subtlest of forms. Imagine strolling through a park in Ithaca, the evidence of spring’s tender handiwork unfolding before your eyes. As you traverse this liminal space where the grey of winter meets the vibrant hues of spring, you are greeted by a cheerful brigade of daffodils, a sure harbinger of warmer days.

These daffodils are blooming along the Cayuga Waterfront Trail within Cass Park, Ithaca, Tompkins County, New York

Through the above image, it’s as though you are leaning in, your gaze just inches above the blooms. These daffodils are not merely flowers; they are the golden trumpets of spring, each one a burst of joy amidst the still-dormant earth. You can almost feel the softness of the petals, the coolness of the air, and the promise of renewal that each bud encapsulates. With their faces eager to bask in the strengthening sun, they seem to resonate with your own readiness for change, for the fresh possibilities that each new season brings.

As you stand up and take a few steps back, the following image grants you a wider perspective. Here lies a path, winding gently alongside a burgeoning line of daffodils. They stand in unity, a vivid yellow line drawn against the canvas of awakening green. The bench in the distance is vacant, an invitation to sit and appreciate the tranquility of Cass Park, the expanse of water beyond serving as a mirror to the open sky. It’s a scene that calls for contemplation, urging you to appreciate the simplicity of the moment, the serenity of nature’s process.

These daffodils are blooming along the Cayuga Waterfront Trail within Cass Park. Here the trail has passed over Linderman Creek and we are looking toward the Cayuga Lake inlet. Ithaca, Tompkins County, New York

These photographs are more than visual delights; they’re sensory experiences. Can you hear the subtle sounds of the park? The distant call of birds returning home, the soft rustle of grass stirred by a gentle breeze, the hushed murmur of water lapping at the shore? Each sound is a note in the symphony of spring, played just for you.

The images you see are not frozen in time; they carry within them a narrative of life’s perseverance. The daffodils, with their bright faces and sturdy stems, have weathered the cold, the snow, and the frost. They emerge, not just as survivors of winter, but as its conquerors. Each flower is a testament to resilience, a living metaphor for the human spirit that you, too, possess.

This is the season of rejuvenation, where the old is shed, and the new embraced. With each day, the sun lingers a bit longer, casting its golden glow upon the earth. It’s the time to set aside the grayness of yesterday and look forward to the spectrum of tomorrow. The photographs are not just to be viewed; they are to be felt, to remind you that no winter lasts forever, no spring skips its turn.

As you walk away from this scene, you carry with you the warmth of the sun and the cheer of the daffodils. Let the images serve as a reminder of the perennial cycle of life, the undying hope, and the enduring beauty that awaits just outside your door. Feel encouraged to seek these moments, these fragments of beauty, in your everyday wanderings, and hold onto the message of the daffodils: after every winter, no matter how harsh, comes the gentle kiss of spring.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Nature’s First Green….

…is gold, / her hardest hue to hold, / her early leaf’s a flower; / but only so an hour… Robert Frost

MichaelStephenWills4 Comments

You walk alone by the waters of Cayuga Lake in Stewart Park, nestled in the heart of Ithaca’s Finger Lakes, where Salix alba, the white willow, stands proudly along the shoreline. You’re immediately drawn to the flurry of yellow flowers, a stark contrast to the still chilly early March air.

The white willow (Salix alba), with its rough, gray bark, is beginning to dress in its spring finery, its branches teeming with tiny, starburst-like flowers. Each one is a miniature sun, casting a glow against the intricate lattice of branches. These aren’t the soft catkins of the pussy willow but the yellow inflorescences that are characteristic of the white willow’s early bloom, a signpost that winter’s grip is loosening.

These trees, you learn, are dioecious, with separate male and female trees. The blossoms you see are likely the male flowers, their stamens dusting your fingers with pollen as you brush against them. It’s this pollen that will soon beckon the bees, urging them to emerge from their hives and begin the work that sustains the ecosystem. You can almost hear the faint buzz, a prelude to the symphony of life that summer will bring. Return in midsummer to find the female catkins comprise numerous small (4 mm) capsules, each containing numerous minute seeds embedded in silky white hairs, which aids wind dispersal.

As you wander further, you note the presence of the white willow’s kin, other deciduous companions some still bare and stretching into the sky and others leafing out. You stand there, at the cusp of seasonal change, where the slumbering trees are on the verge of awakening, and you feel a kinship with them. Like these trees, you have weathered the cold, dark months, and now you stand poised to greet the renewal that comes with spring.

The stark, knotted forms of the white willow branches against the clear sky speak to you of endurance and resilience. These trees have weathered storms and droughts; they have been companions to the lake, mirrors to its moods, and now they are beginning to celebrate the cycle of rebirth and growth.

You take a seat on a bench, the cool wood through your clothes a reminder of the lingering winter. You gaze out across the lake, the water reflecting the brilliance of the sun like a vast, rippling mirror, framed by the elegant silhouettes of the white willows. You feel the peace of the park seep into you, the slow, rhythmic lapping of the water syncing with your breath.

This is a moment of transition, from the sleeping to the awakening world. You think about the Salix alba, how its presence here is a testament to nature’s adaptability, thriving in the moist soil by the lake, offering shade in summer and shelter in winter, its branches a playground for the winds.

As you leave Stewart Park, you take with you the memory of the white willows in early March, the quiet guardians of Cayuga Lake. They remind you of the enduring beauty of nature, the seamless flow from one season to the next, and the quiet joy of standing witness to the first whispers of spring on the shores of the Finger Lakes.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Hatch, Birth, Good Luck!

If you ever feel like you’re struggling with independence, just remember these creatures who start life with the ultimate “figure it out yourself” kit.

MichaelStephenWills12 Comments

Introducing the “Self-Service Buffet” of the animal kingdom, where the motto is “Hatch, Birth, Good Luck!” These creatures don’t stick around for cuddles or parenting classes:

Sea Turtles – The Ultimate Sand Sprinters: These little guys burst from their eggs and make a mad dash for the ocean, dodging seagulls and crabs. It’s like the world’s most stressful obstacle course, where the prize is simply survival.

Salmon – Swimmers on a Solo Mission: After hatching, young salmon are on their own, navigating the perilous waters without a GPS or even a pep talk. They’ve got more instinct in their little fins than most of us have in our entire body!

Praying Mantises – The Loner Ninjas: These insects hatch ready to rumble, with no parental guidance on how to be the ultimate predator. It’s a tough world where your siblings might just see you as their first meal. Talk about family drama!

Kangaroo Rats – Desert Hoppers Inc.: Born in the harsh desert, these tiny rodents are all about the solo journey from the get-go. No room service or guided tours here; just a lot of hopping and hoping.

Octopuses – The Brainy Solitaires: Octopus moms are the epitome of “do it yourself,” laying their eggs and then, well, signing off. The babies hatch fully equipped with all the smarts and skills they need, making them the envy of every overbooked parent.

Komodo Dragons – The Scaly Independents: These formidable lizards hatch ready to take on the world, with a fierce look in their eye that says, “I didn’t choose the dragon life, the dragon life chose me.”

Butterflies – The Winged Wanderers: From caterpillar to chrysalis, and then to butterfly, these creatures do it all on their own. If butterflies had social media, their status would perpetually be “Just transformed. Who dis?”

A Monarch butterfly freshly emerged from the chrysalis after expanding its crumpled wings.

So, if you ever feel like you’re struggling with independence, just remember these creatures who start life with the ultimate “figure it out yourself” kit. They might just inspire you to tackle your own obstacles – though hopefully, with fewer predators involved.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Dueling Songbirds

Witness a duel not of might, but of vibrant melodies between the cardinal and song sparrow. This 14-second video captures a fleeting yet profound moment in the Finger Lakes’ springtime chorus. Join us in unraveling the significance behind this avian serenade.

MichaelStephenWills11 Comments

In the serene backdrop of the Finger Lakes in upstate New York, an enchanting encounter unfolds as the first whispers of spring touch the air. It’s March 14th, a day that marks the gentle shift from the silent, introspective winter to the lively, expressive season of spring. On this day, a captivating spectacle takes place — a duel not of might, but of melody. Two distinguished songbirds, a male cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) with its vibrant red plumage that seems to capture the very essence of life itself, and a male song sparrow (Melospiza melodia), modest in color yet profound in voice, engage in an early springtime symphony.

This 14-second video, garnished with brevity, captures a fleeting moment in nature’s grand concert, where these feathered musicians compete, not for supremacy, but for the sheer joy of song and the chance to herald the new season. The cardinal, with its rich, whistling tunes, fills the air with a repertoire of songs that resonate with the promise of new beginnings. Meanwhile, the song sparrow, with its intricate melodies that vary dramatically from bird to bird, offers a counterpoint that is both complex and captivating.

This auditory duel, set against the tranquil beauty of the Finger Lakes, is more than just a display of vocal prowess. It’s a ritual that speaks to the heart of nature’s cycle, a testament to the resilience and adaptability of these species. As these songbirds vie for the attention of mates and assert their presence in the spring landscape, they also remind us of the enduring beauty and mystery of the natural world. You’ll also catch the call of a crow and, in the distance, another Cardinal.

This moment, brief yet infinitely rich, invites us to pause and listen, to lose ourselves in the simple yet profound joy of birdsong. It’s a reminder that, even in the quietest corners of the world, life thrums with vibrancy and the promise of renewal. Join us as we delve into the story behind this melodic encounter, exploring the significance of song in the lives of these birds and the heralding of spring in the Finger Lakes.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Cascadilla Gorge Walks: Scenic Views and History

An 84-degree October walk up Cascadilla Gorge—quiet paths, bluestone porches, fresh paint on the bridge—waiting for the footbridge to catch the last, warm evening sunlight.

MichaelStephenWills16 Comments

Every fall I make a point of walking Cascadilla Gorge at least once. On an 84-degree October 9 afternoon, Pam was tied up with chores, so I parked downtown and stopped to see the grandchildren. They were with their mom. Two were “too tired” after school to do anything. The youngest, at the age of four, was not yet in school and he floated the idea of the skateboard park; for me, that wasn’t in the cards. So I set off on foot up Court Street, past the residence of Buddhist monks at the gorge entrance.

Cascadilla Gorge is part of Cornell Botanic Gardens (formerly the Plantations), the university unit that stewards natural areas and gardens across campus. Foot traffic was light. A sign explained why: the lower trail was closed at Stewart Avenue, where the bridge spans the ravine. I crossed to the north side by the Christian Science church and wound up Cascadilla Park Road to the rim trail that climbs East Hill toward campus.

Homes line this stretch, porches facing the gorge where the constant music of creek and falls carries up. Not feeling ambitious, I made a few phone snapshots. Here the path squeezes past a porch built of local “bluestone,” a feldspathic sandstone native to the region—around town it’s sometimes called “Llenroc,” Cornell in reverse.

That pot you see in the previous photo gets a closer look here, with more of the same weathered bluestone.

The drop to the gorge floor is steep, sheer in places. The barrier fence looks stout in some sections and thins to almost nothing in others. A few years ago, a recent Cornell graduate walking home late along this path fell to his death. I continued to the fork for the Ithaca City Cemetery, climbed to Stewart Avenue, turned right to cross the Cascadilla bridge, then right again onto the Gorge Rim Trail back toward town. At the bridge I noticed part of the closure work: fresh paint on the bridge and on the suicide-prevention netting beneath. On September 24—just fifteen days earlier—a Cornell senior had jumped; the net caught him, and the fire department brought him to safety.

From the concrete barrier in that photo you can peer into the gorge: a beautiful view, the steady voice of water rising from below. I try to leave the darker stories where they belong—at least until the sight of fresh paint pulls them back to mind.

I took the following photograph in 2005, the September before my previous post, “Autumn Stroll in Sapsucker Woods” with the Kodak DSC pro slr-c, an ND filter, 50 mm lens and a tripod. It was a planned session, I work waterproof boots and was able to stand in the creek after a series of rain-free days. At this time of the year the gorge opens to the setting sun. I waited, taking a series of photographs for the perfect amount of light on the footbridge. The feature photograph (the header to this posting) is a detail from a shot with the bridge more fully lit.

The header image for this post comes from a planned session in September 2005, just before the photograph of my “Autumn Stroll in Sapsucker Woods” post. I used a Kodak DCS Pro SLR/c with an ND filter, a 50 mm lens, and a tripod. After several rain-free days I wore waterproof boots and stood mid-creek. In autumn the gorge opens to the setting sun; I waited and shot a sequence until the light laid perfectly across the footbridge. The banner image is a detail from a frame where the bridge is more fully lit.

We have a framed print of that photograph at home. I mounted it as a gift to Pam on our first Valentine’s Day.

“September Sunset in Cascadilla Gorge”

If you’ve walked Cascadilla Gorge in autumn, I’d love to hear your favorite vantage points—porches along the rim, the lower stone steps, or the footbridge at golden hour. Do you know any stories about Llenroc bluestone on these houses, or remember the Stewart Avenue Bridge before its safety upgrades? Photographers: what helps you balance deep shade and bright water from the designated trails? Share a tip or a memory in the comments.

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