Shedding Impatience, and Skin

snakes, birds, and making time to see them.

I went for a four mile hike this Sunday that reminded me how transactional I have made my trips to the outdoors. How many miles can I ride? How many calories can I burn? Instead of minding what Thoreau said, that if I’m not thinking of the woods, what business do I have in the woods?

That’s a mantra I repeat when I find my thoughts wandering too much when I’m outside. This enforced break from mountain biking helped bring me back to nature hiking, and not worrying about miles and exercise. And it paid off this weekend, when I explored trails at Black Run Preserve that I’ve neglected in favor of their professionally carved singletrack. I found a northern water snake as it began to molt:

On a trail between two bogs, navigating tree roots as I listened to warblers and woodpeckers and kinglets as they chattered during their fall migration, I nearly stepped on a well-camouflaged two-foot long snake as they bumped their nose against the roots and rocks, trying to shed their skin. As you can see in these photos, their eyes were cloudy and they could not see me at all. The snake was so deep into their business that their tongue didn’t flicker to sense me.

Molting northern water snake

Such a beautiful snake. Just minutes before, as I walked to the edge of the first bog, a much larger cousin of this little one flopped off their perch on a pine bough into the marshy water. They looked as thick as my arm, and I went looking for them, but only managed to scare some small frogs into the water for them to eat.

This little one, I observed for quite some time. I could not help them molt, but I stroked their hind end, and encouraged them to slither off the trail to a safer place to spend this vulnerable time.

Thinking back, I wish I had stayed longer, and witnessed them shedding their skin. My patience has improved, but not enough. I could have taken home a shed skin as a memento.

I didn’t have much luck spotting birds with my binoculars, but my eyes spied a red-bellied woodpecker and a golden-crowned kinglet, and maybe a yellow-billed cuckoo up in the trees. I’m getting better at using the glasses, but I might opt for a monocular instead. I’m impressed with the Samsung S23+ camera, which let me snap this photo of an egret in flight and then crop the picture for details. This is the same bog where I saw the large water snake flop into the water.

Every time I think about moving from the Pine Barrens, a natural disaster strikes the area I’m looking at. First it was Vermont, and then New York state, and they’ve both been hit by catastrophic flooding. Thankfully, Colorado is too snowy and North Carolina too politically fraught for me to wreak disaster upon them by considering a move there. There’s a lot of beauty here, even if we are without mountains. This is the bog near where I saw the smaller snake.

I also spotted a small painted turtle, an enormous mat of mass that swallowed an old trail, and a lot of handsome fungus. When my bike is fixed, I’ll head over to the Aero Haven side and see how the prickly pear cacti are doing. The bog side is more lively with birds and critters, which is why we (used to) protect wetlands. The Supreme Court ruled that the EPA doesn’t have the authority to regulate them, because developers want to make them into subdivisions. Black Run is surrounded by them, and the preserve’s trailhead kiosk, portable toilets, and even memorial shrines to dead family members have been vandalized recently by cretins who probably live in one of those McMansions.

Timber Creek, closer to home, is smaller and less wild, but still surprises now and then. It’s polluted, crowded, polka-dotted with dog shit, and poisoned by an algae bloom, but it is still full of life. I followed raccoon tracks, spied a rare Silent Blue Jay, and photographed this fluffy mockingbird before they could preen. I’m glad to have both Black Run and Timber Creek, and I promise to park my bike at Camden County College’s trails and explore the lilypad pond where I’ve spooked a heron, so keep my thoughts of the woods while in the woods, next time I ride there.

Update. Crank on the Taint Hammer is replaced, but the frame is cracked again. If it's not covered by warranty, I'll be buying a Trek Farley frame or similar and moving all my parts to it. Twice in a year seems… excessive.