Melting snow, spring rains, gather in hollows of the forest floor to form ephemeral pools important for the development of amphibian life.
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Vernal Pool with Vinca Vine
Also named vernal pools, from the Latin word for spring or the time of the equinox. The pools are ephemeral in the sense of being temporary, disappearing in the warmer, dryer late spring and summer months, a characteristic important for amphibian live in being devoid of predatory fish.
Rim trail traverses gullies. These creases in the gorge walls were formed by small streams flowing to Enfield Creek.
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Gully I
Some passages require a wade, others have elaborate walkways with bridges. I initially wanted to call these ravines. Upon researching the term discovered while ravines are formed by erosion, the scale here is much smaller. I could rename Enfield Gorge, to Enfield Ravine.
Gully II
These shots were hand held. I used a Sony Alpha 700 dslr with a variable “zoom” lens, great for framing compositions.
Robert H. Treman New York State Park.
Click for a slideshow of this Waterfall of the Old Mill sequence
Rim Trail AscentRim Trail iciclesRim Trail icicles with lichen, moss and fern.Gully IGully II
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Water drips steadily from seeps, places water follows hidden cracks to emerge from the darkness. In warm seasons these may be a patch of moisture enabling the growth of ferns, only becoming evident when air is cold enough to freeze slowly running water.
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Rim Trail icicles with lichen, moss and fern.
These macros capture the Moss, Fern and Lichen. These thrive in this environment.
These shots were hand held. I used a Sony Alpha 700 dslr with a variable “zoom” lens, great for framing compositions.
Robert H. Treman New York State Park.
Click for a slideshow of this Waterfall of the Old Mill sequence
Falls by the Old Mill, early springPlace where Fish Kill was harnessed to power the Old Mill Fish Kill Waterfall at the Old Mill. Sedimentary WallsIcicles hang over Fish KillRim Trail AscentRim Trail iciclesRim Trail icicles with lichen, moss and fern.This macro captures the Moss, Fern and Lichen. These thrive in this environment.
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Step into an early spring morning where sudden frosts adorn the Waterfall by the Old Mill with fleeting icicles, capturing nature’s delicate balance between freeze and thaw.
New icicles formed overnight from seeps through the sedimentary walls around the Waterfall by the Old Mill. On an early spring day, after a sudden frost, we walked the Rim Trail to capture the moment.
Here icicles formed during the quick April freeze hand above Fish Kill. Kill is an old Dutch word for creek.
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Sedimentary Walls
Here a mix of frost and lichen mottle the rock layers.
These shots were hand held. I used a Sony Alpha 700 dslr with a variable “zoom” lens, great for framing compositions.
Robert H. Treman New York State Park.
Click for a slideshow of this Waterfall of the Old Mill sequence
Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Join me on a frost-kissed journey along the Rim Trail, capturing the transient beauty of falls freed from winter’s grip, where nature’s power remains untamed and vividly alive.
A day the falls run free of ice. On an early spring day, after a sudden frost, we walked the Rim Trail to capture the moment. Here are three captures of the same waterfall, the first visitors to the upper park encounter and the most visited and photographed right off the parking area.
Fish Kill was captured at this point to provide power to grind grain. Today neither nature nor man control the flow. Kill is the old Dutch word for creek.
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Falls by the Old Mill, early spring
I have never counted the waterfalls from this one to the grand sweep of lower falls. The falls are uncountable because no two people could agree on how small a fall to credit.
Of these three versions, i prefer this one for the foreground inclusion of the enormous limestone blocks set to protect visitors from the drop. This scene is challenging photographically, bifurcated as it is by the bright sun over the fall brink. I prefer to shoot these falls early morning, for this reason, before the sun illuminates the area at all. Long exposures required demand a rock solid tripod, as it is just off the parking lot I use my studio Manfrotto for the work. Here all shots were handheld.
I used a Sony Alpha 700 dslr with a variable “zoom” lens, great for framing compositions.
Robert H. Treman New York State Park.
Click for a slideshow of this sequence of the Waterfall of the Old Mill
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
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.
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
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.
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.
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
Joint me to gaze out upon a mesmerizing view of winter’s embrace over the Finger Lakes, where the setting sun paints an ephemeral masterpiece of ice, water, and twiligh
As I soared into the heavens, bound for Syracuse on the 9th of February in the year 2024, I found myself cradled in the gentle embrace of the port side of our metal chariot. The world unfolded beneath me; a tapestry of natural splendor painted in the golden hues of the setting sun. The view to the west, a grand panorama, beckoned my gaze, luring my senses into the wild embrace of Upstate New York’s finest landscapes.
Flying into Syracuse, February 9, 2024 we sat on the left (port) side of plane, this view to the west took in Canandaigua Lake, Bristol Mountain Ski Area, Honeoye Lake, Hemlock Lake (Canadice Lake is not visible).
Below, Canandaigua Lake lay stretched out like a slumbering giant, its waters glistening with the last kisses of daylight, a mirror to the sky’s fiery canvas. How wondrous it was to perceive the world from such heights, to witness the lake’s serenity from the abode of the gods. It seemed as if Canandaigua herself was remembering whispered tales of ice fishermen and quiet boathouses locked in the winter’s frosty grasp.
Off to the south, the proud shoulders of Bristol Mountain Ski Area rose in defiance against the winter’s chill. The mountain’s snow-laden slopes, carved with the meticulous precision of skiers and snowboarders, reflected the sun’s dying light, a beacon of winter’s joy amidst the sprawling lands. I could almost hear the muffled laughter of families and the swish of skis carving their ephemeral signature upon the mountain’s white canvas.
Nestled in the mountain’s shadow, Honeoye Lake revealed itself, a slender and unassuming sliver of tranquility. Its presence was like that of a quiet companion amidst the grandeur, a reminder of the simpler pleasures—frozen waters awaiting the spring thaw, the promise of lush greenery peering from beneath the white shroud of winter.
Beyond, where the earth kissed the sky, Hemlock Lake offered its secluded beauty, a hidden gem amongst its more renowned siblings. Though Canadice Lake remained shyly concealed from view, I knew it too slumbered there, a silent sentinel guarding the land’s secrets. Together, these lakes stood as custodians of a silent world, the guardians of a tranquility that seemed untouched by the passage of time.
As the plane banked gently, the clouds above me caught fire, ablaze with the colors of the dying day. Wisps of vapor painted streaks of orange, purple, and pink across the expansive canvas, a celestial masterpiece unfolding before my very eyes. The clouds seemed to dance with the joy of existence, a choreographed performance to the symphony of the setting sun.
I found myself lost in the moment, a solitary figure suspended between heaven and earth, caught in the embrace of an ephemeral beauty. The world below whispered of untold stories, of winters past and springs to come, of the endless cycle of life that pulsed beneath the frost. It was a moment of profound connection, a fleeting communion with the heartbeat of the planet.
Discover the elegance of the American Coot through our journey at Merritt Island, where these unsung avians dance across the water, crafting nature’s own symphony of survival and grace.
There we were, Pam and I, standing before the serene waters of the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, when a cluster of American Coots (Fulica americana) caught our eyes. Locally known as mud hens, marsh hens, or pond ducks, these coots were anything but mundane. Their dark plumage blended with the ripples, while their ivory bills gleamed like beacons, leading our gaze across the liquid expanse.
The Coot’s Constellation
As a throng, they moved with purposeful grace, a constellation of birds, each a star in their own right. With lobed toes spread like aquatic fans, they paddled through the water, their movements an embodiment of nature’s ingenuity. These “poule d’eau,” as the French settlers once called them, displayed a mastery over their domain, both in water and on land.
Social Weave
A Raft of American Coots
The coots assembled not as a random flock but as a deliberate collective, a raft in both name and function. They maneuvered with a collective intelligence, each bird’s action rippling through the group, exemplifying the coots’ penchant for community. Their group dynamics, a blend of cooperation and competition, painted a picture of the delicate balance within ecosystems.
An Ecological Perspective
In the tapestry of the refuge’s ecology, the American Coot stitched its niche with precision. Whether known as “baldpate” or “crow duck,” these birds were critical to the habitat they frequented, acting as both consumers and contributors. They pruned the vegetation, controlling its growth, and served as prey, connecting the food web in a cycle that spanned generations.
The Taxonomic Twist: Coots vs. Ducks
As the coots continued their ballet on the water, I turned to Pam, ready to demystify the common misconception that coots and ducks are close relatives. “Though they share the wetland stage,” I began, “these two are cast in different roles by nature’s hand.”
Orders Apart
Coots are members of the order Gruiformes, which includes rails and cranes, characterized by their elongated bodies and short wings. Ducks, on the other hand, belong to the order Anseriformes, which also encompasses swans and geese, known for their broad, flat bills and webbed feet.
Distinct Lineages
This taxonomic separation marks a deep evolutionary divide. The Gruiformes, with their lobed toes and distinctive calls, represent a lineage adapted for a life traversing the marshy edges of the world. Anseriformes, with their specialized bills for filtering and dabbling, reveal a lineage fine-tuned for exploiting the aquatic resources more extensively.
The Cultural Mosaic
Despite their commonality, coots have etched a place in cultural folklore, often overshadowed by more colorful avian neighbors. Yet, their ubiquity across North American wetlands has made them a familiar sight, a symbol of the wild’s persistent pulse. To us, they were the embodiment of the unsung wilderness, a chapter in the storybook of natural history.
Embracing the Ensemble
As the day waned, the water transformed into a canvas of orange and purple hues, with the coots as its subjects. “Behold the marsh’s musicians,” I mused to Pam, “each note they play is a beat in the heart of the wild.” Our encounter with the American Coot—a bird of many names but one singular, remarkable essence—was a harmonious reminder of nature’s interconnected ballet.
Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 