Summerfall
The summer light wanes, sending an ancient signal to all beings in the northern hemisphere that it is time for each one in their own way to prepare for the colder, darker season that looms ahead. Leaves will soon start to color and birds are beginning to migrate. All the creatures that will be staying are getting ready in their time-honored fashion. Early September, though, in the northeast almost deserves to be its own season. I suggest summerfall. Summer-like, but not quite summer anymore, with many nights being cooler, yet the days can still be hot, it doesn’t exactly feel like fall. It is a time of subtle transition, as autumn gradually creeps up on us. As I write this, it is 68 degrees at 11 p.m., the windows are wide open and I’m enjoying the “cricket-chorus” immensely. The katydids are “katydidit-ing” up a storm and the crickets sound like a hundred billion little bells loudly, madly ringing for all they’re worth. This is very enjoyable weather, but hardly unusual in the northeast. Just because the calendar (and the school year) says fall does not mean it is so. It still feels like summer. Even as a kid in Maine, I remember starting the school year going to school with a jacket on, but wearing it around my waist coming home in the September heat. If most of the hardwoods (ashes, birches, maples, oaks, etc.) are thick with leaf, even as their branch tips start to take a golden turn, it should be a colorful season. Gold seems to be the theme for early fall in our woods, as well as in our fields. We have some problems in the matter, though. Unfortunately, most of our white ashes are dead or dying from the Emerald Ash Borer (EAB), which will account for less of their bright yellow leaves and our maples have been suffering from maple rust, which means less of their glorious red in the palette.
Autumnal fauna
As the light gradually changes, fall is gently, subtly triggered, different animals responding in different ways. Some creatures like black bear and woodchucks start to plan for a long winter’s nap by fattening up a bit (though the ‘chucks seem plenty fat already). Another adaptation is migration. The hummingbirds will be doing it shortly, actually gaining a whole gram or so of weight to fuel that powerful little furnace of theirs to help take them all the way down the Appalachians, then an intrepid 500-mile non-stop dash across the Gulf of Mexico to their wintering grounds in the Yucatán. The monarchs are preparing to leave on their own long journey to sunnier climes. I know they’re threatened both at home and here, but I’d love to think their population will bounce back (visit www.journeynorth.org for more on all migrators and www.spiritofbutterflies.com for more on monarchs and local efforts to help them). Many of the incredible dragonflies have gone already, leaving their eggs in freshwater to hatch as larvae next year. Now mainly the huge (for dragonflies) and indomitable green darner still zips around, hawking hapless small insects (and some not so small) from midair. In the heron family we’ve had two gorgeous great egrets visiting us at Kingston Res. #1 this season. They are still here, along with the intrepid and prehistorically evocative great blue herons (who will probably stay for a bit, some even into winter). Local bald eagles are still feeding on fish in local ponds and reservoirs. Our black and turkey vulture friends will stick around to haunt us at least through the fall (and do their bit as part of the roadside cleanup crew, along with crows and ravens).
Fall (autumnal) equinox
September 22 — The great wheel of the seasons turns as the cycle of life inexorably continues. We humans have our own rhythms in the matter. Most of us will hunker down, get out the warm clothing, beef up the wood pile, tighten up the windows, etc., and some will migrate to warmer climes. I like to point this out to show that despite all of our technology, we still respond — whether we know it or not — to the rhythms of the natural world around us. A glorious fall is upon us in the southeast Catskills. Let’s make the most of it — “make hay while the sun shines.”
“Ranger” Dave Holden, call 845-594-4863 / woodstocktrails@gmail.com; also see Dave Holden on Facebook; rangerdaveholden on Instagram or www.woodstocknytrails.com.
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