Mountain Laurel blossoms. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I went for the birds and the blossoms, but forgot about the bugs. They didn’t deter me, however.
My neighbor had told me that the Mountain Laurel bushes were blooming at various locations in Shenandoah National Park, just a short drive from my home. The laurel blooms from late May into mid-June, depending on elevation.
Of course, I had to see for myself. I fixed a hiker’s lunch, packed my binoculars, camera, and a couple of jackets, and headed out. It’s often 10 degrees or more cooler in the mountains than in the Shenandoah Valley, where I live.
I didn’t need to bother with the jackets. The temperature was 70 degrees when I arrived, and it was humid, with little to no breeze. It was 79 when I left.
A small black bear cub greeted me not long after I entered the park. Fortunately, it scampered back off the old stone wall away from the road and into the forest.
I soon reached my first destination. Just a short distance off Skyline Drive, I reached the Appalachian Trail, which crossed a fire road. I didn’t see any Mountain Laurel, but songbirds were plentiful. So were the knats and mosquitoes.
A male Eastern Towhee. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I strolled along the AT, swatting at the pesky bugs and trying to locate the many warblers I was hearing and recording on my smartphone’s birding app. Singing its unmistakable “drink your tea” melody, a male Eastern Towhee posed for a photo on a limb hanging right over the trail.
I met a lone through-hiker from South Carolina. She hoped to reach Mt. Kadadhin in Maine by mid-September. She told me she had passed many stands of Mountain Laurel on her hike so far, which began at the Appalachian Trail’s traditional starting point, Springer Mountain, in Georgia.
She headed north while I retraced my steps to my vehicle. The birdsong was terrific, but the forest’s full foliage made it challenging for this old guy to spot the warblers as they flitted from one branch to another, munching on their insect smorgasbord.
Besides, my main goal was to photograph the blooming Mountain Laurel. I followed my neighbor’s directions to another section of the AT, where the Mountain Laurel was so prolific that it formed a floral tunnel.
The laurels were in all stages of blooming, from tight pink buds to hexagonal flowers in full bloom. In places, the sun filtered through the forest canopy, highlighting the beauty before me.
The laurel blooms offered no fragrance, and I never saw an insect of any kind on any of the hundreds of blossoms. There was a good reason for that. As pretty as the prized flowers are, they are poisonous to any living creature. Every part of the plant is toxic.
So, if someone offers you Mountain Laurel honey, politely decline. Merely enjoy the flowers with their evergreen leaves. If you go, make sure you take your favorite bug spray.
Mountain Laurel grows along the Skyline Drive in several locations. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Appalachian Blackberry blossoms. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
On a recent day hike on the Appalachian Trail in Shenandoah National Park, I came upon these lovely flowers. They are the blooms that, in a month or so, will turn into Appalachian Blackberries. With all the birds and black bears around, they likely won’t last long.
After an 8 a.m. doctor’s appointment, I took a long and much-needed walk in the woods. It happened that the doctor’s office was adjacent to one of my favorite places in the Shenandoah Valley.
The Edith J. Carrier Arboretum on the James Madison University campus in Harrisonburg, Virginia, is a life-giving oasis among 21st-century din. There, birdsong, blossoms, and the verdant forest provide a temporary sanctuary from life’s bustling and boisterous busyness.
To be sure, you still hear the sirens, the traffic’s hum on the interstate that cuts the campus and town in half, the train horns, even the airliners cruising into airports two hours away.
The forest canopy covers you with its sacred, healing goodness. It’s life’s true purpose. Use your senses to enjoy the rapturous unfolding.
A late-migrating Wilson’s Warbler flits and feeds on insects deep in the recesses of dense elderberry bushes. Wood Thrushes sing their multiphased cheery song in the shadows of the mixed deciduous woodlots. American Robins scold one another as they defend their nesting territory.
A Wood Thrust sheltered in the shade of a hickory tree. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
A slight mist rises from the forest floor, beckoned by the strengthening morning light. White-breasted Nuthatches, Eastern Wood-Pewees, Tufted Titmice, Northern Cardinals, Carolina Wrens, and Song Sparrows fill the wooded ravine with glorious, variegated tunes. A Red-bellied Woodpecker’s vocalization echoes deep from the hillside woodlot while an American Crow sails through the trees, cawing from one perch to the other.
Each in their own way, joggers, birders, parents with toddlers, grandparents, and college students enjoy this preserved paradise. Time in the arboretum is an equal opportunity home with a smorgasbord of enjoyment. Some are passing through. Some are exploring the flora and fauna. Others simply sit, look, listen, and smile.
A lone rhododendron holds onto its precious purple blossoms along a wood-chipped path in the shade of the congregation of hardwoods. Here and there, morning light filters through the giants’ canopy, speckling the forest floor.
The broad leaves of huge hosta plants invite you to explore, hike, relax, reflect, listen, and admire all that nature has to offer. A well-located bench beckons you to sit a spell and breathe in the cool freshness before summer’s heat and humidity arrive.
My only shot of a reclusive male Wilson’s Warbler. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The quilt we gave our grandson for his high school graduation. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Today is my wife’s birthday. How is she celebrating? By doing what she does every day: helping others.
Whether it’s her birthday or not, she spends the better part of nearly every Tuesday volunteering at a local thrift store. She runs the cash register, sorts clothing and knick-knacks, and answers customers’ queries about the store, the city, and the Shenandoah Valley, where we live.
As we both approach 80, we strive to be proactive with our bodies, minds, and spirits. Assisting others helps us in all three areas. At the store, Neva engages with new folks, which she greatly enjoys. For the local elementary school, she helps pack nonperishable food for families in need.
She uses her skills to make comforters for people she will never meet. A church organization sends them around the world to those who have little to nothing.
Neva also demonstrates her altruistic talents for the family. Last night, she delivered a quilt that she had pieced and had quilted for our grandson’s high school graduation. She helped him pick the fabric and arrange the pattern. Neva even stitched in music notes on the quilt’s backside for our musically talented grandson.
After that presentation, we sat around a campfire with our daughter’s family covered in quilts and blankets for no other reason than to enjoy one another’s company on an unusually chilly evening. Mere presence is another gift of giving.
Neva connects with a friend who has several children. With the ding of a text, Neva can be off providing rides from school to doctor’s offices and back. Now and then, she prepares a meal for them. Neva seems to run on opportunity, and when opportunity beckons, she responds more often than not.
Neva sends birthday, get-well, sympathy cards, and ‘thinking of you’ notes to those who need to be remembered. She often receives a return note or text of appreciation.
Yesterday, our freezer gave out. We hustled the thawing food over to our neighbor across the street, who graciously allowed us to temporarily store it in her freezer until our new one arrives.
In recognition of Neva’s birthday, that same neighbor brought a salad basket for Neva. She had picked the lettuce from her garden and included all the fixings for a delicious salad.
Neva’s salad birthday gift.
So, tonight, she and I will quietly celebrate her birthday with that salad and a few other food items that were too thawed to refreeze. It will be a satisfying end to another day of opportunities to serve.
No doubt, Neva is a trooper. She is determined not to let age deter her from doing what needs to be done to improve the lives of others, even on her birthday.
My wife and I enjoyed a walk around the Genesee Country Village and Museum on Mother’s Day with our son, his wife, and their three-year-old grandson. Jess’s family also joined us on the lovely Sunday.
With wide open spaces and many attractions to investigate, several of us scattered to do our own thing. That’s when I spotted this gentleman, dressed in 19th-century attire, basking in the late-morning sunshine. His obedient dog did the same. Along with the setting and their positioning, they made the perfect composition that fit the setting.
Spent pink petals on a manhole cover. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I was walking in downtown Harrisonburg, Virginia, when I came upon this improbable scene. Spent petals from pretty pink blossoms on an ornamental tree had fallen and stuck between the metal grids on manhole covers.
I marveled at the beauty of the pattern the contrasting elements had made. Natural pink on human-made rusty iron surrounded by the concrete of the sidewalk.
A few of the noontime sun’s rays added a dappled effect to this natural urban art.
Earth Day in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley dawned with a steely gray overcast sky. It remained that way for the entire day. Still, I ventured out to celebrate the day set to honor Mother Earth.
Recently diagnosed with some unsettling health issues, I spontaneously decided to join the celebration. I hoped doing so would calm my nerves and help me settle my emotions.
I usually plan my daytrips so I’m ready to go at the crack of dawn. Consequently, I lost valuable time in the morning packing my lunch, birding equipment, and attire for the mountains. My destination was Reddish Knob, a peak on the front range of the Allegheny Mountains on the border of Virginia and West Virginia.
With reports of migrating shorebirds and songbirds returning, I wanted to see what I could find. Even though I have been birding for most of my life, I consider myself an average birder. As I age, my hearing has diminished, so I can no longer hear the higher-toned decibels of many songbirds.
I’m grateful for the birding apps on my smartphone. I especially like the Merlin app for identifying bird calls. It’s not always accurate, but it gets the job done for me. Better birders than I, most of whom are younger, are proficient in naming birds upon hearing and seeing them. It’s reason enough to bird in a small group of experienced birders.
A Song Sparrow sang before I left home. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
However, today, I chose to go it alone. I needed the solitude and the solace. I did so, knowing that other birders would likely be out searching in the same areas. But it wasn’t to be. I spent the day on my own.
Before I even left, a Song Sparrow sang from a tree across the street. My first stop was a nearby lake renowned for its bird-watching and fishing opportunities. Wind-felled trees provided cover and roosting areas for birds and reptiles.
I spotted movement in the shadows along the shallow end of the lake’s shoreline. Beyond a downed tree where turtles rested, a Solitary Sandpiper stealthily stalked its prey. Closer to me, a pair of Spotted Sandpipers waded gingerly among the lily pads, reeds, and downed branches, searching for breakfast.
The lake is a hotspot for migrating ducks and other waterfowl, but there were none today. Above the spillway, however, a pair of Black-crowned Night Herons occupied separate branches on a giant sycamore tree. Soon, a stately-looking Osprey joined them. All eyes were on the lake.
A few miles away, I stopped at a marsh in a farmer’s pasture that allows visibility from the public highway. I heard the familiar calls of Killdeer, and a pair soon landed among the grasses sprouting from the marsh’s muck. Red-winged Blackbirds trilled while Black Vultures sailed silently overhead.
Killdeer at the marsh’s edge. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I passed through the rural burg of Briery Branch, and onto Reddish Knob Road. I drove at a snail’s pace with the windows and moonroof open. I turned on the Merlin birding app to listen for calls. When a Louisiana Waterthrush and Blue-headed Vireo popped up, I pulled off the narrow road, turned off the car, grabbed my binoculars, and scanned the tender, emerging leaves for birds. Though they continued to call, I couldn’t find them. The gray sky proved a harsh backdrop.
I continued the slow climb up the mountain. The valley gave way to steep forested hillsides, split by a rushing stream, as I drove higher and higher into the Allegheny Mountains. I stopped whenever a pull-off presented itself and scanned the trees and bushes for birds.
On the right, a recent controlled burn had left the landscape blackened. The underbrush was singed brown, and the needles of young pines hung yellow from the heat. The smell of the fire lingered in the air. Still, I found a Brown Thrasher perched in a tree singing its melodious song high above the scorched earth below.
Brown Thrasher singing. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Just up the road, I reached my destination, the intersection of Reddish Knob Road and a US Forest Service fire road, which is a mix of dirt and gravel. As I pulled over to park, a small flock of Red Crossbills flew up in front of my vehicle. Those were the birds I had hoped to see and photograph.
I parked my vehicle a few feet away, excitedly exited with my camera, and the birds returned to the same spot on the side of the road. These beautiful birds were what I call “graveling.” Why do these lovely, social birds ingest grit and minerals along roadsides? The pebbles and dirt help them digest the pinecone seeds they eat.
The Red Crossbills gathering grit. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
The birds settled in as I stayed as still as possible. I captured several photos of these magnificent birds gathering grit. The females are a yellowish-green, while the males are mostly a fire-engine red with dark wings. They can be found year-round in a small geographical area along the front range of the Alleghenies. They are scarce in most other regions of the US except the Rocky Mountains.
All the while, Common Ravens flew back and forth above the ridgeline. Blackburnian and Black-throated Green Warblers sang in the tree tops as they foraged for insects. Ovenbirds, Blue-headed Vireos, and Eastern Towhees joined the chorus.
The budding pastels.High in the treetops.Help me find the bird.Can you find and ID the warbler?
Please click on the photos to view them in full size.
On my retreat down the mountain, I stopped at a camping area adjacent to a gurgling mountain stream. I heard many warblers, but saw only a few. I could have used other pairs of eyes to help spot the birds high in the emerging canopies.
Still, it was a fulfilling and satisfying Earth Day for this septuagenarian. I surrendered to my surroundings, the fresh air, the towering evergreens, and the budding deciduous trees. Bird calls replaced motor vehicle and lawnmower noises, and clear mountain streams rushed their way to the valley floor.
Thanks to the bird song choruses, inspiring mountain views, and the singing brooks, nature’s peace enveloped me. Isn’t that one of the goals of Earth Day?
Our 15-year-old granddaughter had her suspicions. While helping my wife prepare for our family Easter meal, Maren found an egg that she thought might have a double yoke. She wanted to break it open to see, but instead placed it in the pot of boiling water with the other eggs.
When my wife sliced open the egg, she found a surprise. The egg didn’t contain a double yolk, but a yolk and a half. I’m not sure how rare that is, but extensive Google research showed that a double yolk is a 1 in 1,000 chance.
Osprey, Silver Lake, Dayton, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
While birding on Earth Day, this osprey provided several good poses for me to capture. It went from a towering tree snag to the limbs above to this precarious perch on a limb that hung over Silver Lake in Dayton, Virginia.
Roadkill Crossing 
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