The spikes of multiple flowers are wonderful in the vase, but also a great show in the garden. Used as a focal point in the perennial bed, as a Derby Day sentinel at the gate to the terrace or in the cutting garden, you can’t go wrong with a good thrifty clump of lupines.

Lupine (Lupinus species)

By Eric Larson 

The Lupine in one of our Iris beds is a structural entity in the garden, even when not in bloom, and when, as now, it IS in full bloom, it is indeed magical.

As a member of the Pea family, Fabaceae, it’s also useful. Lupines can be grown as soil-nourishing cover crops, and they’re helpful companion plants when intercropped with cucumbers, squash, broccoli and spinach.

Not all lupines are edible, but the ones that are have a full range of essential amino acids and can be used as an alternative to soybeans. Those of you who like me thought that Lupine seeds were poisonous may be surprised to learn that lupini dishes are commonly found in the cuisine of many Mediterranean countries.

The “sweet” varieties of Lupinus, those that have no bitter-tasting,  unsalubrious alkaloids, are grown commercially in parts of Europe and are used for everything from vegan sausages to flour. [Such products often wear warning labels because -  also like soybeans - lupines can provoke allergic reactions. L.L.]

Among the three hundred (or more, authorities differ) Lupinus species there are a few outlying woody trees and shrubs, but most are herbaceous plants, including the handsomely flowering lupines of ornamental horticulture.

Although most ornamental lupines are technically perennials, many gardeners treat them as biennials because of their tendency to flower the second year and then start declining right away. Full sun and well-drained, average fertility soil are essential to longevity, and “unimproved” species often last longer than the gorgeous hybrids featured in catalogs.

Not many pests bother with your Lupine but aphids will sometimes cover it. If they do, insecticidal soap or one of the beneficial insects will likely take care of them. Lady Beetles work wonders, but I wouldn’t recommend the purchase of same: they tend to be too mobile to do the gardener much good. That being said, the sight of a Lady Beetle larva eating an adult aphid is a sight to behold: they pick them up and eat them just like you and I would eat an ear of corn, moving down the length and turning it slightly to get the next row. Fantastic!

Flowering lupines are fairly easy to start from seed  - my preferred method – but if you are in a hurry for flowers it’s nice to know potted plants old enough to bloom the first year are widely available. Be sure to ask the seller about expected bloom season; seedlings too young to perform their first year  are also offered in spring.

Depending on the species and variety, the flower color can range from yellow to blue, salmon pink to purple and almost red.  Most of the types available as horticultural specimens are in the cooler range of purple to violet. The height is in the two-and-a-half to three-foot range when in flower, with multiple flower spikes emerging over a ten day to two-week period.

These are close to ideal cutting stage

The flowers are not the longest-lived cut flowers, but I have found if you cut them when no more than a third of the flowers have popped open (they open from the bottom of the flower working upwards), then they will last for several days in the vase. They are an unbelievably striking focal point in a large vase with just some fern leaves around the bottom.

The genus name Lupine comes from the root word lupinus, Latin for wolf.  Lupine as an adjective also means savage, ravenous and predatory, all connected with the wolf. This may have something to do with the propensity for some species to become invasive, as on the South Island of New Zealand,  where Lupinus  polyphyllus has covered stream banks and roadsides.

The native Bluebonnet in Texas( fittingly, L. texensis ) is also on the aggressive side, but of course its predominance is welcome there as part of the spring display and indeed a deserving focus of festivals, tours and other events.

One last note here about the writing of this column. If what Lao Tzu said in the 71st chapter of the Tao Te Ching is correct, then I am well on my way to enlightenment.  “He who regards his intellectual knowledge as ignorance has deep insight.”

The more I learn about gardening and horticulture, the more convinced I am about how much I don’t know. I reckon I could come up with a pseudo-Sino saying here about how long the road is, each step is an adventure, the path is winding and steep in some places, and broad and flat in others, but really, I much prefer the role of ‘guide on the side,’ to that of ‘sage on the stage.’

So let me just say that I am humbled every day in the garden, and if your observations differ from mine or you have anything to add to the discussion, I would truly appreciate hearing from you in the comments. Contributions are anonymous unless you want your identity – or website! – to be revealed, so there’s no downside to sharing more widely.

INVITATION: We will be having an open house here at the garden on Friday May 25, from five thirty to eight o’clock.  I have emboldened that time frame so that you will notice it is a change from our previous events which I mercifully cut short at seven so as not to bother people with my feeble attempts at explaining the miracles  of plant life, evolution and adaptation.  But this time we will keep  the neighbors whining deep into the evening, providing tours of the glass houses, light refreshments and our usual array of live musical talent.

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View from a roadside that’s near my house but could be almost anywhere in coastal Maine when it’s lupine time.

Our lupines are right up there with lighthouses and lobster boats for iconic Maine sights-to-see, and although there are both good and “bad” years, there has never in my four decades of residence been an early summer when they didn’t show up.

This has led a great many people to assume they’re native wildflowers. They’re not. Or usually they’re not. Most of the time they’re the same invaders Eric described conquering New Zealand, L. polyphyllus, a parent of many well-loved hybrids, which is only  a native wildflower in the Pacific Northwest.

We do have a native blue lupine, L. perennis, but the bigger, more vigorous, mullti-colored L. polyphyllus is driving them out. This is not an entirely good thing, however spectacular visually, because the native species is an essential food for the larvae of a highly endangered native butterfly, the Karner Blue.

There are a number of reasons the butterfly is threatened with extinction; the fact that they don’t like L. polyphyllus (or are poisoned by it, depending on which source you consult) isn’t the only problem. But it certainly isn’t helping.

Where there are shoots, there will soon be flowers. Also bees.

I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling overwhelmed with imminent spring. It’s just so inspiring to see those fleets of tender crocus shoots pushing up; so inspiring ( in a slightly different way) to see those fleets of last autumn’s canned goods still lining the shelves.

Haven’t started raking yet, but I have been making Honey Bars, playing around with assorted vintages, pairing the perfumes of the honeys with different nuts: floral with hazelnuts, herbal with pecans, smoky with black walnuts.

That’s the thing about keeping bees:  if you get any honey at all, you generally get a lot, so even though last year was a total bust we’re in no danger of running out.

The thing that’s in danger is the bees. And as Bill points out in this guest post, the first wave of threats is already pawing away at the doorstep.

Sweetness in the Snow (Nope, It’s not Maple Syrup)

By Bill Bakaitis

In deep winter, our bees stay put, venturing out only on the rare warm days when they can clean up the hive (and themselves) without fear of freezing.

Then, long before the snow is gone come the first warm rains of the season. They fell here a little over a week ago, following which we immediately began to see dead raccoons on the side of the road and raccoon tracks in fresh snow around the neighborhood.

Then, a few nights ago I heard one scrabbling around in the side yard.  Oh, No, I thought. One way or another, Ugly is about to be the word in the bee yard.

Both raccoons and their distant cousins, the Black Bears, emerge from their winter denning slumber in mid-March, hungry and ready to roam. They are on the look-out for fast food. Around here, that usually means bird seed, household garbage, molasses spiked ‘sweet feed’ and bee hives.

Almost all of our neighbors set out garbage nightly, many feed the birds, and at least two provide sweet feed to their stock. Amongst this suburban smorgasbord, bee hives can beckon as the sweetest of finds. In such a setting, things can get real ugly real quick.

When the ‘coons come, the bears are usually not far behind, and they seem to have a singular fondness for the contents of bee hives. It’s not so much for the honey, but for the developing larvae packed into the innermost combs of the hive. But whereas the ‘coons opposable thumbs can open latches and investigate nooks and crannies with the skill of an ornery six year old, the bears use all of the grace and cunning of a smack down wrestler to demolish the hive in their effort to get to the larvae.

One move, Ka Blam! And the three hundred dollar investment of a single hive is splintered in an instant. Ugly!

To ward off this threat, those of us who keep bees have learned to surround the hives with an electric fence.  The problem facing us in an early spring with a deep snow pack (and so far this year over seven feet has fallen) is that the fence is buried under snow and any electrical current shorts out immediately.

So for us, the first sign of the sweetness of this spring was not the boiling off of maple syrup but the digging out and reconstruction of the electric fence.

When most of us think of honey we think of warm days, blossom filled vistas, fragrant evenings and jugs of amber sweetness. Yet the tasks of late winter, although not so bucolic, are also part of the picture. Remember this the next time you purchase a pint of home grown honey at your local farmers market.

(Note: This seems like a good place to add that large mammalian threats are the least of the bee’s worries and that’s pretty much all bees, not only domestic honey bees like ours but also the native pollinators lately much in the news as possible replacements. Decline of Honey Bees Now A Global Phenomenon Says the United Nations. LL)

Gray Treefrog, Hyla versicolor

Last night as I head back in from performing right-before-bed cutworm reconnaissance, there on the porch is what looks like a wad of leaves. Bend down to pick it up and no – it’s a little black and white toad. Bend down farther. It doesn’t move. Touch it gently. Completely still. Did I God forbid step on it when I was going out?

Nope, it’s just cold. The next time my warm hand hovers near it manages a sluggish hop.

By morning it has moved to the drainpipe and I have looked it up. Even though it’s notably bumpy and almost 2 inches long, it isn’t a toad. It’s a very large – as these things go – Gray Treefrog, Hyla versicolor, and it’s black and white because it’s sitting on the weathered cedar boards of the porch.

I rotated the other picture so you could see him/her more clearly. Here’s the actual orientation. The porch is the same color as the wall on the left.

Gray Treefrog caught last summer on a hollyhock leaf; they don’t call ‘em versicolor for nothin’.

Here in the Hudson Valley we don’t hear them nearly as often – or as close – but we do see them from time to time, including just a couple of weeks ago in a field near our friend Ilana the chicken queen‘s  farm.

Eastern coyote (with mangy tail), apparently hunting for voles

And then we saw what looked like coyote tracks while we were out skiing. The post on skunk tracks is a perennial favorite, so I asked Bill if he’d consider doing a guest post guide to reading tracks in the snow.

He did. It’s far more than I bargained for. And so are the quite scary coyotes.

COYOTES, THOSE GAUNT DOGS OF WINTER

By Bill Bakaitis

Part  one: WHAT THE SNOW SAID

The snows of winter provide a record of the recent history of forest and field. Walking a piece of land this time of year reveals a natural history that is otherwise opaque and difficult to understand. Tracks left by the passing animals read like a book and even a halfway trained eye can see at a glance the recent history of those passing through snow and time.  In such a scape, the forest comes to life, becomes immediate and compelling, as the snow reveals a world filled with activity, the activity of animals coming and going, animals interacting with one another, and animals interacting with the clumsy passage of the chance outside human visitor.

Although a bow hunter and an avid outdoorsman, I am nevertheless reluctant to venture out into the woods during the gun season for deer.  I was therefore particularly eager to get out once the gun season ended and a week-long layer of snow covered the ground.

Luckily, Leslie and I live in an area where there are thousands of acres of undisturbed forest nearby:  State Lands, private estates, educational and research facilities, camps and preserves, as well as the remains of farms gone fallow and otherwise vacant.

It was quite easy therefore to select a piece where I thought I would be alone, and could enjoy the blessings of nature. Here I rarely see any evidence of humans except on one or two paths skirting along an edge of this large tract of reforested farmland. Not far along one path I veered off and almost immediately found a set of deer tracks.

They were quite fresh: the edges were sharp, not yet eroded by wind or weather, and the tracks at the edge of the nearby stream were still muddy, evidence of a recent disturbance.  At first I thought the deer probably spooked as I came up the trail, but by careful comparison of my tracks and those of the deer, I came to the conclusion that the deer probably passed by a half hour to hour before my arrival.

That appraisal was confirmed a few moments later when I came upon the tracks of a large canine following the deer. By following off to the side of the tracks, I quickly surmised that the tracks were probably those of coyote, not dogs, and that there were at least two, perhaps three coyote following the deer.

The deer apparently was being pushed by the coyotes.  This, I thought, is a trail worth following, and so I did for the next two or three hours.

The tracks carried me far into the forest, always the coyote tracks coming over and therefore after, those of the deer. The largest set was persistent, dogged, never wandering far off the trail. Another set, or perhaps two of nearly identical size, seemed to join the trail for a period of time and then divert, returning again at a later juncture.   And always my tracks were the last, obliterating everything underfoot.

At one point a yellow urine stain squarely midway between the 5″ to 6″ straddle of the larger sets of tracks indicated that one of the coyotes was a large female; I judged that she was being assisted by one or two smaller animals, possibly her young of the year. The urine stain was clean, with no trace of the blood tinge which might mark her estrus in the coming weeks.  The snow was telling me a lot about this family.

And then, during one of those peculiar loops of the trail, miles from where we began, I found a set of my tracks with those of a coyote overlaying my bootprint.  An immediate surge of adrenaline raced through my body as I realized what the snow said, that, at least momentarily, I had become the tracked, not the tracker.

Compared to the deer I was both soft and slow and during all of this time I had not seen another set of human tracks. Here I was all alone in the woods with a family of large presumable hungry canines.   What an eerie feeling!  I had become so immersed in the snow’s story that it was like slipping into a dream- space of natural drama. And in that space, the deer, the coyote and I had become equals.

It was not quite a panic, but I immediately broke off the trail and headed overland towards a place where I knew a path to be, thinking the next time I come I’ll bring a handgun, just to be safe, thinking about how bold the coyotes have become in this area, thinking about the kills I knew these 50 pound animals had made, the calves killed in Steven’s barnyard, the remains of the piebald deer I found near here last year, the dogs and cats killed in town, the stories of the German Shepherd which last fall had not survived an encounter with a family of coyotes…

This is a safe kind of fear, mostly a product of my imagination, both thrilling and non-rational, but it was with a sense of relief when I reached the trail to find both human tracks and those of someone’s faithful companion, a well fed, jaunty Golden Retriever perhaps, judged by the joyful, sloppy character of its tracks. These signs were as comforting to me as a fire on a cold day and I followed them to the highway which was still a mile off.

Back home I resolved to follow up on those coyote stories.

Part two: WHAT THE NEIGHBORS SAID

It is a well reported observation: After a few years of eclipse, the Coyotes are back. Grown accustomed to the suburban exurban environment of the north east they are more and more likely to be seen in broad daylight in our fields, forests and yards. Their nightly songs are quite common throughout the area. For many the coexistence has been harmonious, but for others, one fraught with anxiety and trouble.

The manager confirmed for me that in the children’s camp a family of three coyotes became so bold that by the end of summer they began to hound the young campers and then, once the camp closed,  to dog the seasoned staff.  A stalwart of the town also confirmed that this summer, in town, a small dog was trapped and killed on the porch of the family home. So too with several house cats. I was unable to verify the persistent rumors of the German Shepherd which did not survive an encounter with a group of Coyotes.

This is not completely new:   Twenty years ago, at my previous home, a mini-farm surrounded by larger farms and thousand acre tracts of preserves, coyotes came into my barn in the spring to kill our nesting turkeys. They were notorious for monitoring cows about to deliver and then taking the calves during or shortly after labor. On a nearby dairy farm, several coyotes have been killed in the barnyard as they closed in on the expectant mothers. In one case they were actually eating the calf during the delivery process itself.  An Angus calf in a back pasture of the neighbor’s farm I was helping to manage was lost when we misjudged the due date of the mother and coyotes took the newborn calf.

Coyotes are natural predators, and are usually wary of humans but increasingly the locals’ stories seem to indicate that they are dancing alongside us in tighter and tighter movements.

Part three: WHAT THE INTERNET SAID

COYDOGS

It has been suggested that one of the factors involved in their ability to exploit a human dominated environment is the ability of coyotes to interbreed with domestic dogs.  The most common term used is ‘coydog’ which technically refers to the male coyote (Canis latrans) – female dog (Canis lupus familiaris) offspring. The male dog, female coyote offspring is referred to as a ‘dogote’.  Both hybrids are known to be fertile in controlled breeding experiments and assumed to be so in the wild as well.  The introduction of familiaris genes into the latrans population is thought to influence both the growing size and boldness of the evolving eastern coyote population.

This coydog hybrid hypothesis is not without controversy. Although both species have compatible chromosomal arrangements (78 chromosomes arranged in 39 pairs), their natural breeding cycles and temperaments differ sufficiently so as to make the occurrence of hybrids rare. Coyotes usually go into heat in the winter, delivering springtime, while most domestic dogs come into heat so as to deliver in the winter.  For more and photos of coydog hybrids, click here.

On the internet, several technical papers can be found in which discriminate morphological skull analyses indicate the occurrence of hybridizations, but most seem to conclude that these are not common. See here for a brief synopsis.

Whatever the factors, there are sizeable variations in the local coyote population from  ‘Border Collie’ to ‘German Shephard’ in size and stature,  between 35 to over 50 pounds in weight, and with marked color variation.. The adults that attacked the cows in Steven’s barnyard were about 50 pounds in weight and rangy in stature.  I recall seeing their bodies completely filling the bed of his pick-up truck. These were about the size of the larger coyotes that I sometimes see in the fields and forests near my home, and whose tracks I often find in the winter woods. These eastern coyotes are considerably larger than the ones commonly seen out west.

Intermingled with these larger animals are ones which are noticeably smaller. The one Leslie and I saw in the field, for example, was on the small side. The difference in size is readably apparent when you see them in nature and also easy to see in the size of the tracks.

COYWOLVES

Searching through the internet, following a trail one link at a time is somewhat analogous to tracking natural signs. In following the ‘Eastern Coyote’ links a series of articles appeared that knocked my socks off and gave me the same eerie feeling I had when the coyote tracks appeared in my bootprints.

The first, from Scientific American, is a summary of very recent work done by Dr. Roland Kays, curator of mammals at the New York State Museum in Albany, and his associates. According to his team, genetic analyses of the Eastern Coyote indicates considerable hybridization between coyotes and wolves.  The team concluded that mating between female coyotes and male wolves was abundant, that these coywolves have larger, stronger jaws and bigger skulls overall than the so-called straight western coyotes, and that perhaps most importantly this interspecies hybrid is not only fertile but has adaptive advantages over either the wolf or coyote in the  human-modified environment of the Northeast. Furthermore, they found that it is common for members of the genus, Canis, including coyotes, wolves, and dogs, to “hybridize quite readily.”

More details can be found here, including this photo of a coywolf skull showing its wider width and more powerful jaws.

photo by Roland Kays

Dr. Kays describes the male as being larger than the female, with the hybrid population possessing a wider range in color variations. This hybridization, or exchange of genetic material between species, he points out, is a mechanism which allows for a more rapid adaptation to environmental changes than do mutations.

If those findings knocked my socks off, the following singed my toenails! A few months ago, in Nova Scota, a young woman walking alone along a trail was killed by a pair of coyotes. The attack was witnessed by other hikers who together drove off the coyotes.

A senior wildlife official in the same area described another occasion where he was repeatedly charged by a lone coyote. The wildlife official thwarted the attack by ‘not acting like a prey’ and gave the following advice:   “Coyotes can be found in rural and urban area across Canada. They often shy away from humans, but if one does approach, here’s what to do:

• Be aggressive yourself: Wave your arms, stomp and yell loudly in a deep voice to deter it from coming closer.
• Stand your ground: Stay where you are and look it in the eye. Never run away; it is more likely to consider you prey, give chase and seriously harm you.
• Be prepared: The best defense is a good offence; carry a whistle, flashlight and/or personal alarm. This is especially important for small children who play outside or walk to school in areas where coyotes have been spotted.
• Stay together: If you are walking in an area that has high coyote activity, never do so without a companion.
• Don’t lure them with food: Coyotes are scavengers. If you have pets, feed them inside the house rather than leaving food outside, don’t leave meat scraps or products in compost buckets outside your house, keep regular compost in an enclosed area and ensure garbage bins have tight resealable lids to keep out animals.

“In situations like a national park [where] usually there’s no hunting and no trapping allowed, [coyotes] can get used to a human presence and not have much fear of any retribution.”  He also advised hikers to carry a means of personal defense, such as a knife.

Jonathan Way has studied the coyote/human interactions in the Northeast for some time and, although clearly not an alarmist, and very ‘coyote friendly’ has nevertheless issued a similar set of advice, especially for those of us who have pets.”A one sentence summary of [his recommendations] is quite simple: To avoid most negative interactions from occurring with eastern coyotes, leash your dogs, don’t let your cat outside (after all it is a wild animal when outside hunting small animals), and don’t feed them.” For much more, see  here.

The New York State Department of Conservation has listed a similar set of recommendations and points out the predator- prey message inherent in 1) humans having garbage accessible to coyotes (thereby associating the scent of humans with free food) and 2) humans acting like prey and retreating at the sight of coyotes.  The result trains coyotes to actively treat and pursue humans as prey. See this and much more here.

This Cornell University study adds an edge to the issue that is both chilling and compelling.”Paul Curtis, an associate professor in the Department of Natural Resources, recently received funding for a five-year study on coyote ecology and behavior in urban and suburban areas of New York. Coyotes have become increasingly aggressive in recent years in southeastern New York State. Usually coyotes avoid humans, but they have been venturing into suburban neighborhoods and attacking pets. Curtis states, ‘This kind of aggressive behavior is usually the last stage before coyotes actually start attacking humans—such as small children that are perceived by the coyotes as a potential food source.’”

With a degree of timing that is uncanny, a neighbor just today sent me this  link to a local news story  of a woman in a suburb to our south, out for a walk in a local park, who suffered an attack by a coyote on 1/26/10.

Part four; Return to the woods: WHAT THE RAINS REVEALED

A warm and torrential rain in late January quickly melted all of the snow which had accumulated over the previous month and I took this opportunity to return to the area where I had tracked the coyotes which, in turn, were tracking the deer.  In a situation such as this, rapid snow melt has the effect of collapsing time. The record of a month or more of activity can lay exposed as a single layer on the forest floor, largely undisturbed by the accretion of time. This record will come to be churned into chaos by the activity of creatures and growth of vegetation in the warmth of spring making interpretation much more difficult.

Again, I had not gone far into the woods, following the same trails and lay of the land where the coyotes took me a month earlier, when I spotted the first evidence of a deer kill.

These few tufts of deer hair, found far from any road, indicate a deer probably killed by predators rather than an automobile. The tufts were isolated, indicating that this was not the site of the kill, but instead represented a place where a portion of the kill had been carried for consumption. The site of the main kill would be nearby.

Circling the area, I soon found the probable site of the kill.

Large amounts of white hair covered the ground in one spot, indicating where the underbelly was opened. The ground there was also torn up with several small shrubs and the base of Cedar debarked. I could imagine the coyotes each tearing at the deer pulling it asunder, disturbing the surroundings. A sparse trail of hair led towards a stand of spruce and adjoining swamp.

Along the trail a small portion of the skeletal remains were found

and nearby more deer hair from the carcass.

Finally, near the Spruce stand were a few bits of long thin hair from the tail of the deer, part of the prized meaty, haunch section.

Finding more of the dead deer was not completely surprising. When a hunter harvests a deer in the forest it is usually eviscerated then dragged out of the woods. The soft stuff, the pile of guts, stomach, and offal disappears in a few days, often overnight. It is quite amazing how the scavengers, from coyotes, fox and ‘possums to birds such as vultures, crows and smaller songbirds will completely clean up the remains of a kill. Nature, it is said, is a mutual eating society, and in a harmonized ecosystem nothing goes to waste.

But most of the times, in a deer kill such as this, one is able to find the skull and vertebrae of the animal nearby. All the flesh and cartilage, and most of the ribs will have been eaten but the larger bones will remain, often to be consumed by rodents during the next year or so. The fact that no bones were found here suggests that the carnivore was large enough to carry off the larger, heavier pieces.

All of this, it seems to me, is consistent with the hypothesis that the prints I first found and followed were coyote, or coywolf as the newer evidence indicates, and that they were able to kill a young deer and either consume it entirely or drag it off to a cache far from the site of the kill. By inference, this is probably done several times a month in order for these large, fifty pound dogs to survive.

Part five: ECOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS

As we all know, the landscape and ecology of the northeast has undergone considerable change over the past fifty to sixty years, the post WWII era. The reasons seem clear.

A large network of highways and superhighways along with the corresponding increase in private automobiles has led to an urbanizing sprawl of development. Urban planners have for decades spoken of the Bos-Wash Corridor as a single megalopolis extending along the Eastern seaboard from Southern Maine to Virginia. Spreading outward from this complex are layers upon layers of suburban and exurban developments. During the last decade this type of expansion has been accelerated by the fearful reactions of a post 9/11 world, the speculative housing bubble caused by a deregulated financial system, and a skewed economic distribution system which has hugely favored the wealthy at the expense of our nation’s working classes.

At the same time a move towards a corporate dominated, integrated and monopolized agribusiness system has led to the collapse of the small family farms which once dominated the rural landscape.

Within a few miles of my home are dozens of hastily constructed, chipboard McMansion developments, their selling prices beginning at $500,000, filled with commuters driving SUV’s to workplaces which lie an hour or more away. On the hilltops overlooking these former corn fields is the former pasture land now owned and posted by an urban elite who visit periodically, usually on weekends.

In the late 1960′s, when I began teaching at Dutchess County  Community College in Poughkeepsie, NY, each of my classes held enough students from farms that a discussion of  concepts such as “10-10-10″,”nitrogen budgets”, “crop rotation”, “wildlife/ erosion buffer zones”, “non point-source pollution”, “food chains”, “predator-prey relationships”, or “carrying capacity”  would flow easily and naturally from their farming backgrounds.  In turn, this discussion would meld seamlessly and easily from the farm based ecology/economy upwards into a treatment of larger socially referenced systems, and downwards into a discussion of the workings of one’s own biological based psychological system.

By the time I retired in 2006 I was lucky if I had a single student in my class who had even visited a farm. For them, food was something their mom or dad picked up, prepackaged and ready to eat from the deli section of the A and P. Their cognitive templates were not based upon biological natural phenomena, but upon man-made digital constructions and the disposable gadgets accompanying this development: computers, games, MP3 files, animation videos, and transient cultural content.  “Reality” it seemed, was something served up in TV shows and by a political base which proclaimed that “reality is whatever we say it is”.

The combined effect of the demographic changes sketched in above has been a major factor in exponential increase of the population of the White-tailed Deer across the northeast. And with this increase in the size of the deer herd, has come the rapid evolution of a new sub-species of coyote, the coywolf.   “Change in one part of a system”, I used to tell my classes, “leads to changes throughout the entire system, most of which are unplanned, often unanticipated, many of which are undesired.”

According to records kept by the NY Department of Environmental Conservation, in 1954 there were 39,000 deer harvested by hunters in the state.  By 2008 that number stood at 223,000, approximately a quarter of the size of the estimated 1,000,000 deer in the entire herd.

Nationally, the White-tailed deer population more than doubled during the two decades from 1980 to 2000, standing today at 30,000,000.  Increasingly a larger number of deer are involved in automobile collisions, currently around 1.5 million a year according to the National Highway Safety Administration.

Many of these collisions occur during the rutting season when the males are in hot and constant pursuit of the females. During this sexually charged chase the normal caution of the deer simply dissolves as they run across forest field and highway. They are not being chased by hunters as some ‘animal lovers’ would like us to think. They are being driven by the increase in their natural hormone levels. (This incidentally seems to be common with most, if not all, species. Think of carp or salmon spawning, cardinals or robins competing for nest-mates and territory, the prowl of un-neutered house pets, the well publicized sexual proclivity of politicians, actors, or athletes, or, heaven forbid – and denied in full – by normal folks like you and me.) There are general discussions here and here . For technical details, see here.

Part six: GAME MANAGEMENT

Coyote and Deer, Predators and Prey, Hunters, The Hunted, the Food Chain and the Health of our Ecosystem: all are interrelated.  It was Aldo Leopold recounting the overpopulation of Mule Deer on the Kaibab Plateau who asked us to “think like a mountain”. Just as the deer live in mortal fear of the wolf, he noted, the mountain lives in mortal fear of the deer.   The health and ecology of much of the northeast today is being compromised by the size of our deer population and the pressure they place upon understory plants. Under continuous browse by deer the number and types of herbaceous and woody plants undergo systematic change. The ecosystem becomes degraded, less diverse and more fragile as plant species disappear and with them the birds and other animals which not only depend upon that vegetation for their own survival, but improve the robustness of the ecosystem as a whole. For more, see here.

On a more immediate, personal front, think of the problems you have in trying to garden. I know of no one in my neighborhood who can maintain even a small plot without deer fencing. Our entire property, in fact, is completely fenced off, even the driveways, in an effort to protect the plants around our house.

Leopold followed up with a now-famous corollary:  When the hunter kills the wolf the hunter takes over the wolf’s job.  This simple truth leads to concepts now familiar in game management circles.

With overpopulation, a major tool is to encourage the decline in numbers of breeding females. In deer management, this is usually accomplished by increasing the harvest of antlerless deer. The results can be striking, both with regard to speed and quality of recovery.

In the 1990′s, for example, the state of Pennsylvania was at the top of the list for both the large size and poor health of its deer herd. Beginning in 2002 a new policy of antler restriction was initiated. Immediate changes included a reduction of the size and composition of the herd and a concomitant increase in the size and health of the individual deer harvested. For more, see here.

Within this context the return of the wolf to the northeast  – albeit this time a wolf in coyote clothing -  is a perfectly natural phenomenon, the result of the failure of the hunter to do the job the mountain asks of him or her.  Attempts to extirpate the coywolf conceivably could be initiated, but would be completely counterproductive without a corresponding effort to reduce the size of the deer herd. This is not a place where the tender-hearted plaints of those concerned with protecting  ‘animal rights’ is likely to get much purchase. We are already killing the deer with kindness, and also, it seems, creating conditions perfect for the evolution of a new subspecies able not only to pare away at the excess deer population but also, it seems, poised to move on to new urban exploits.

The deer will be controlled by hunters, automobiles, coywolves or starvation and disease. Take your pick.

In the meantime when I plan to walk alone and quietly in the woods where the coywolf lives, I’ll probably follow the advice given above, and since I prefer to speak softly in the woods, blending into nature as best I can, I shall need to carry a big stick.  How are you fixed for pepper spray?

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Y’know, when I started this thing I thought it was just going to be a simple blog post illustrating animal tracks in the snow. I hope to return to that simple task next time.

Coming up soon (I hope): Foxes and Cats, ‘possums and ‘coons.

5. Notice dark shape in the distance.

6. Pull the string around your neck to lift the camera out of your shirt pocket so you can send your wife a picture of a

Baby bull moose.

Experience and photos by Bill Bakaitis

If only. As a species of aggravation, Marmota monax, the largest and most pestilential member of the squirrel family is impossible to get rid of. There are a number of reasons we will get into in a moment.

First, however, the good news: you can get rid of one or more individuals, and that can often make the difference between having a harvest and not. Furthermore, you can get rid of them using a live trap, especially if you use one from Williams Trapping Supply.

young groundhog in live trap, about to take a trip

Williams traps are just as sturdy as the more common option while being much easier for the trapper to set and for the trappee to trigger. They’re also easier to empty – the door opens when you turn them upside down, which you can do with a long stick when that seems called for.

You do have to anchor the trap with a stake, so only you can turn it over, but other than that the thing is just about perfect.

Williams Trapping Supply does not have a website. For sizes and prices, call Mr. Williams at 260 672 3721.

Tips for success trapping groundhogs:

* Set the trap as close as possible to the most-used entrance to the burrow. There is always more than one entrance, but there is usually a favorite close to whatever is being eaten. The dirt in front of it will look freshly disturbed.

* Bait the trap with whatever brought the damage to your attention, plus some lettuce or other juicy greenery and a bit of fresh fruit that will not instantly spoil – an apple wedge or a couple of cherries, for instance.

* Change the bait daily; groundhogs are used to eating plants that are still actively growing so they’re quite fussy about freshness.

One warning: Catching the creature alive and unharmed, then turning it loose somewhere far from human habitation seems much kinder than killing it, either instead of or after trapping. But trap and release is illegal in many places where killing is not, and you may well be condemning the groundhog to a long, difficult fight for survival that it may not win.

These large rodents are fierce and highly territorial, and they are also near-ubiquitous. There is almost surely a groundhog in residence wherever you dump yours. That said, we figure we might as well give ‘em a shot (as it were).

Why You Can Never Get Rid of Groundhogs

* They can and will eat almost anything: grasses, cultivated plants, insects, tree bark, snails, berries…

* Groundhogs expand to fit the feed allotted. Minimum adult weight is about 5 pounds; common adult weight is 12 – 14 pounds, groundhog-in-clover (actually alfalfa) weight may be as much as 30 pounds,  and of course the bigger they are the safer they are are from smaller predators like hawks, owls, foxes and snakes.

* Although predators also include humans, dogs, bears, wolves, coyotes, and bobcats, groundhogs are skilled at self-preservation. They never stray far from the burrows; they can swim or climb trees as necessary, and they gather in family colonies that post sentinels. When danger threatens, the sentinel whistles and everybody heads for the holes.

* Only one litter a year, but there are as many as 6 babies and both parents take care of them for several weeks, getting them off to a strong start. Adults in the wild live only 2 or 3 years as a rule, but up to 6 is not uncommon and if they got lucky they could (in theory) enjoy the 20 years and more possible for groundhogs in captivity.

* Groundhogs are edge dwellers, happiest when living in undisturbed ground but very near fields, gardens and yards. The undisturbed ground is classically forest or scrubby swampland, but an abandoned gravel pit, space under a seldom-used barn or similar is fine too. The more woodlands disappear, the more edge there is. All of it full of groundhogs.

They do not throw lumber, by the way. Woodchuck is usually identified as a corruption of the Algonquian – or Narragansett – wuchak, a creature that digs.

more soon, I promise.

posts upcoming on garlic,  garden volunteers , food gardening fine points, chocolate cake — and the Joy of Wrens.

photo by Bill Bakaitis

In fact they eat grasshoppers, voles, mice and similar garden comestibles to which they are more than welcome.  

Momfox, somewhat fuzzily through the back window at dusk. Stay tuned for the little ones if I can swing it. They must live in the neighborhood; this is the fourth sighting.

Bears, Bees, Bacon and Morels

by Bill Bakaitis

Flash!  My neighbor just informed me that the bears are back.

A few days ago he went out in early morning to feed his horse and discovered that the large bin which stored the sweet feed and biscuit treats was missing. Well, not quite missing as there were drag marks and when followed led to one of the neighborhood bears (last year there were five) having an early morning snack of the biscuits. After a brief encounter and short stand-off the bear beat a retreat.

End of that story, but Whoops, thought I, I sure better check the electric fence around our bees and rebait the hot wires with the Rancid Bacon Bear Bait stored in the freezer for just such occasions.

A spreading patch of bloodroot is now encroaching into our small fenced-in bee yard, and over the past few rainy days had grown tall enough to be in contact with the lowest hot wire of the electric fence. 

The errant bloodroot leaves sizzled, snapped, crackled, popped and were draining the voltage of the wire. Good timing, I thought and went to the shed for a small sickle, to the freezer for the bear bait, and after disconnecting the solar charger trimmed all of the bloodroot and other vegetation under the fence. That’s when I found the morels.

They were growing right under the lowest hot wire.   Whoa!  Is this a new morel habitat, I wondered?  Should I begin to check other electric fences in the area? Bee Yards? Bloodroot patches?  Bear Shit?

These must be omens of some sort.  After all, the neighbor’s horse is named Lightning, and after trimming the weeds and stringing up the bacon all the lights of the fence tester now glowed: five thousand five hundred volts. Zounds!

Bears and morel poachers be forewarned.

Two young esculenta, part of a much larger patch, growing under the electric fence of our bee yard, their pitted surface looking very much like a section of drawn honeycomb.

Five thousand, five hundred volts pulse only inches above this morel. No bear is going to poach on this patch!

(More about the bears and bees, with solar electric fence construction details, is here. )

“Hey Leslie, come see what’s in the trap!”

A muskrat.

Full grown muskrat - they're smaller than you'd think.

It’s not completely surprising; there’s a little creek just a squinch to the south, almost on our property but not quite. And they do come out during the day, especially in rainy weather. But although they eat a wide range of aquatic plants, no one has ever said anything about Brussels sprouts.

Brussels sprouts are – supposedly – irresistible to rabbits and of course that’s why they were being used as bait. We’re giving the crocus-eating invader a decent chance to be transplanted before I am moved to say “will no one rid me of this troublesome rabbit?”

The muskrat got a pass, on the theory that the sprouts were an aberration. They can be pests if you have a pond, but we don’t.

muskrat leaving trap behind

Bill opened the trap facing the shortest way to the creek ( about 75 feet straight left ). The muskrat headed for the fence instead, ran along at quite a clip until it found a place to slither under, then booked it eastward across the yard, presumably headed upstream.

Like opossums, muskrats have many fans. One way to find them is through Everything Muskrat.