June 17, 2008.
There was more introspection than wildlife viewing this evening, although there was one wildlife sighting worthy of mention.
It was late dusk and I had finished hiking. I was walking down the Otter Creek Road hill, nearing Radnor Lake’s west parking lot, when I stopped to peer down at the spillway-fed creek. It looked to me as though there were more ripples in the water than there should have been, but I saw nothing to create such ripples, as far as I could tell. A few seconds later, a raccoon became visible as it walked downstream at water’s edge, foraging and hunting food. They’ll eat a wide variety of smaller creek inhabitants. It quickly disappeared from sight, taking cover in some creekside bushes to continue its hunting.
I cannot recall ever having seen a live raccoon in Nashville, so as bland as a raccoon sighting might seem to some, I was glad to have glimpsed it.
Sky, or Skyy (for she was initially named after my favorite vodka, back in my drinking days) – the wonderful, enlightened 30-lb. black (now with some gray) mixed-breed terrier I adopted from the Nashville Humane Society in 1996, is definitely my number one hiking buddy!
We’ve hiked together for 12 years now, mostly in Nashville and Marietta, but also at Fiery Gizzard (she camped with me) and Stone Door.
Unfortunately, Radnor Lake forbids dogs to trek off-road. Since Radnor Lake is the most popular hiking destination for me today – and provides most of the fodder for this Nashville hiking blog — Sky is not seen in most of the hiking photos of late.
Sky is so very accustomed to hiking; she has better trail etiquette than many a two-footed hiker!
Sky gets very excited en route to our hikes. Like any other dog, she loves to stick her head out the window whenever we go for a ride — except when we are on the interstate; too much wind in her nose, I suppose. Here is a movie of Sky in the back seat of my 1995 Nissan Maxima on May 5, 2008. We were on our way to hike at Percy Warner in Nashville.
It was yet another wonderful dusk hike at Radnor Lake: beautiful, peaceful, a virtual meditation, actually. Towards the end of this dusk hike – around 8:15, I suppose– a woman approached me (shocking, I know!) and asked if I were me. I was quite pleased to tell her that I am indeed me.
I was excited when I realized that it was Patti P., an avid hiker and knockaround biologist I met on the trails several weeks ago, back around the time of the Canada Goose nest discovery and video. We have not talked in a while, so we had lots of Radnor Lake animal sighting information to exchange. She has figured out when and where to see otters regularly — and in these same areas, the occasional beaver is also seen.
By this time, it was well into dusk so I could not get any photos worth showing.
She showed me a beaver lodge that was active last year. I believe Patti said she’d not seen any action at this particular place this season. I had never seen a beaver structure like this. It was actually not much to look at; it appeared to be a small stretch of Radnor Lake shoreline where lots of sticks had washed up and/or accumulated at water’s edge. Interesting.
She said she had seen only one snake this year, so I was happy to take advantage of yet another opportunity to gloat about my recent, unusually frequent, close-proximity reptile sightings. She really dug this; she and her zoologist father have an affinity for reptiles. I was thinking, Well, maybe, just maybe, my temporary status as reptile magnet would last through this evening and she’d get to double her snake sightings for the year.
On our way back from the otter and beaver area along Otter Creek road, we saw our snake: yet another gray rat snake — the fourth in the last few weeks, the third in only two weeks. I was a little slow with the camera and we did not capture it very well digitally, or at all physically. It slithered off into the poison ivy, safe from the marauding amateur herpetologists.
Since my father opted to watch Tiger Woods play golf in lieu of a loosely planned hike at 6:30 on Father’s Day Sunday (yesterday), he agree to hike this evening – perhaps out of guilt. That’s OK, though; any reason that successfully if temporarily puts Dad’s boots in contact with the trails of Radnor Lake, is a good reason as far as I am concerned.
We met at the parking lot on the Granny White side at 6:40. We were going to ride together, but Dad decided to apply a one-hour limit to his hiking this evening, and I did not want to cut my hike short. I parked in the Otter Creek parking lot and walked over, just in case my hike accidentally exceeded anyone else’s; I don’t want to get on the parking rangers’ bad side or hit list in any form or fashion, since my plans and writing projects call for a great deal of research there over the next several months.
I had a close call to damaging my rep in the eyes of the Radnor Lake parking rangers only a few months ago, as a matter of fact. This Hiking Nature blog was fairly new at the time, and I wanted to find new, easy, and most importantly, free ways to expose this website to new readers. So I used my trusty Firefox web browser to navigate over to VistaPrint.com (home of the budget business card) and ordered 250 business cards touting www.HikingNature.com.
In addition to handing out these cards to friends, acquaintances, and other people I meet, I decided to leave just a few cards randomly about Radnor Lake, in obvious, easy-to-spot locations. Of course, I did not want to litter; this sentence would be completely unnecessary for anyone who knows me. I was careful; I would leave a card on a bench on my way up the South Cove ridge, and then retrieve the card on my return, if it was still there. It was always was.
I guess a couple of cards got loose; I received a voicemail from a Radnor Lake park ranger, and I was given notice that my littering was to stop immediately. Oh God, I felt awful! It really did effect me much more than I’d prefer to say. It was safe to say my days of placing business cards benches at Radnor Lake — even for later retrieval – were over! And they are.
This is as good a time as any for a genuine plug: the park rangers at Radnor Lake do an outstanding job. Granted, they are lucky SOBs for having what many would consider a dream job! And in fact, park rangership is just that – a dream job – to several of the park rangers, including at least three on the current roster. I know that because they have told me so, verbatim. One of the present park rangers patiently bided her time, she said, as her name slowly crept upwards on a Tennessee state hiring waiting list for over five years for this specific gig! Of course, Radnor Lake park rangerhood is not always fun, as they’ve told me. Few jobs are. Nevertheless, I feel comfortable calling it an incredible job, a wondrous (and even spiritual, to some) way to earn one’s living.
I have met a few Radnor Lake parking rangers throughout my years of hiking there, as I was born at St. Thomas hospital in 1966 and went to nearby Lipscomb (formerly David Lipscomb) elementary, middle school, high school, and – shockingly – college as well. Being an avid hiker since my college days – basically when my days of freewheeling BMX bicycling ended – I have explored and hiked Radnor Lake untold hundreds of times over the decades.
A couple of weeks after the business card littering embarrassment, I met one of the park rangers there at Radnor Lake and was fortunate enough to spend over half an hour with her as she walked the Lake Trail. I was able to ask several questions which I’d wanted answered for a while (and of course I could not recall all the questions I wanted to ask), and she was kind enough and patient enough to answer all of them. Her explanations, descriptions, and elucidations helped me make some positive flora and fauna identifications and figure out some other things I have written about here at Hiking Nature.
There have been many interactions between the Nashville Hiking Meetup group and the Radnor Lake park rangers over the last nine months or so, especially since Kelly S. began to play an active role in the local hiking organization. The vast majority of these ranger-hiker interactions have been positive, and I believe I speak for several longtime hiking aficionados in the group when I say that we really respect, admire, and even envy the park rangers of Radnor Lake!
Given the increase in activity – including volunteer work – of the Nashville Hiking Meetup group, there will be much more ranger-hiker interaction in the near future. Thanks to Kelly and others, the Nashville Hiking Meetup group recently surpassed the Ron Paul Meetup group as the largest Meetup group in Nashville, Tennessee. The group is also strengthening ties with a similar outdoor activity group in Nashville called Team Green.
The Nashville Hiking Meetup group has about 820 members now, and fortunately, they haven’t yet all shown up at once for a hiking event. Just imagine enjoying a calm stroll around Radnor Lake on a weekend afternoon with your kids — then crossing paths with a group of 800 people hiking in the opposite direction. The hike would immediately cease to be calm, peaceful, and meditative.
By Stephen Frasier; Re: the Nashville Hiking Meetup Group’s Fiery Gizzard hike; Date: Saturday, June 8, 2008; Photos: Stephen Frasier, using Olympus Stylus 790 SW
This adult Northern Fence Lizard (Sceloporus undulatus hyacinthinus) was found by the author while hiking the incredible, treacherous, beautiful Fiery Gizzard trail just outside Monteagle, Tennessee with the Nashville Hiking Meetup group. This type of fence lizard is basically the primary (most common) spiny lizard we have here in Tennessee.
By the way, this is a break-out post, a sub blog entry, a conjoined sibling of the larger Fiery Gizzard Hike post which describes, in far too much detail, certain events occurring on Saturday, June 7, 2008.
This Northern Fence Lizard — probably between six and seven inches long — scurried by my Camelbak over to the edge of the rock cliff and peered back at me for a moment before moving to the trunk of an evergreen to sun itself. Usually these lizards make themselves scarce; they tend to magically occupy the opposite side of the tree trunk from you, where they cannot be seen – just like a squirrel. But this adult fence lizard — another enlightened reptile, perhaps — demonstrated a clear desire to be photographed, allowing me to continue my amazing reptile photography streak (which began the other day with a 6+ foot-long gray rat snake at Radnor Lake) uninterrupted!
Once the fence lizard settled into its sweet spot on the trunk of this cliff-dwelling evergreen, it was content not to move another inch – even when I stealthily approached to within two or three feet of the cold-blooded creature. I remembered to take plenty of pictures to increase the odds of having at least one blogworthy photo in the bunch.
I declined to capture this spiny lizard by hand, not because of the spines (which are no big deal to the human hand); rather, I remembered what a firm bite this critter can deliver on queue. It’s like a very firm pinch, with a level of pain commensurate with the thickness of or the amount of skin the lizard grabs with its strong little jaw.
These fence lizards are extremely common, much like the Southeastern Five-Lined Skink; so seeing one - or even getting a close-up of the lizard — is certainly no big deal. This is one of the (hopefully few) ways a wise one might be able to determine my novicehood in the realm of reptile photography. Therefore, in future editions of HikingNature.com, you’re not likely to see such bragging rights being claimed over a photographed adult Northern Fence Lizard or Eastern Fence Lizard (same thing).
(NOTE: I am still working on some content and all the imagery. Please revisit soon.)
I finally made it to a Nashville Hiking Meetup group hike, thanks to Kelly; I agreed to go at such a late hour, there was simply insufficient time for this socially paranoid introvert to come up with a plausible excuse not to go.
We met at the Target near Hickory Hollow at 7am; I was running about five minutes late due to a stop at a nearby convenience store for green tea. This worked out quite well, as I just missed what might have been one of those highly uncomfortable group introductions (particularly when you’re the stranger).
The event filled up at the Stewie-imposed limit of 25 hikers, and about 17 showed up. There were two or three carpools plus a few singles who opted to drive themselves so they could head back immediately after the hike and skip the traditional post-Fiery Gizzard dining experience at Crust (the name alone makes you want to eat there).
Kelly drove our group of five (six on return) which included “TOT” Kay, Matt “Logan” Damon, and Lawyer Scott. It was nice to have a chance to pick up on some of the group-specific lingo and lore on our way to Tracy City.
After a totless group photo (not as appealing as it might sound at first listen), we gathered ’round the map station to listen to Kelly some more, and then we were off into the wilds of Grundy County!
I was initially considering taking the more difficult route to the ridge/ Raven Point, but I wised up and stuck with the group. Although I have chosen the strenuous route on almost all my previous Fiery Gizzard hikes, this extra Ben & Jerry’s weight I’ve been carrying around for a few months now would have made it much more difficult.
Although the short Grundy loop trail officially begins from the right side of the parking lot and ends on the left side, we almost always skip this easy loop when going for Raven Point; so we began on the left side of the picnic area, beside the map station. Here, we gathered around Kelly Stewart for final instructions, Q & A, legal disclaimers, hand-holding, and what have you.
The Nashville Meetup Hiking Group filed onto the trail in single file, many of them using hiking poles — a great idea on this trail system, especially if you’re not of sufficient girth to bend a pole.
After a short section of level trail, there’s an immediate descent down a steep, winding path into the (at this point small) canyon; it’s like you drop into a different world.
After only a couple hundred feet we came to a massive rock shelter which contains Cave Spring, located toward the back of the rock shelter. On the far side of this huge rocky deal stands a 500+ year-old hemlock tree. It might take a third of the group, hand-in-hand, to form a human ring around this ancient plant.
This branch of the canyon is cut by Little Fiery Gizzard Creek. This stream runs fast and cuts past large boulders, some cradled by the large, gnarly root systems of trees that somehow survived growing atop these virtually bare, massive chunks of rock. There are many very interesting, beautiful rock ledges cut by the creek over eons.
Most of the trees here are old growth pines. It’s quite unlike just about any other Tennessee trail; the first mile or so has the rainforesty look and feel of the coastal Alaskan wilderness at Prince William Sound.
Less than half a mile down steam you’ll come to Blue Hole Falls, a very cool cascading waterfall about ten feet high. The water moves even faster here, as it is squeezed into a deeper and narrower gorge. Of the three waterfalls in the canyon, this is perhaps the most visually appealing, at least measured by sheer uniqueness.
A bridge crosses the stream about 3/4 mile from the map station. The day loop trail continues along the right side of the stream; for maximum variety, this is the best way to return to the parking lot; however, by the time you get back here after drooling off Raven Point and risking your life hopping across wooded fields of small slippery rocks and boulders, you’re unlikely to give a damn. Crossing the bridge to the left puts you on the Fiery Gizzard trail proper.
A few hundred yards further you’ll come to the junction of Big and Little Fiery Gizzard Creek. The water is extremely swift here and has cut “Black Canyon,” a deep gorge through the rocks about 5 feet wide and 30 feet deep. I’ve been told that people kayak here, though it’s hard to believe.
The first mile or so of the Fiery Gizzard hike was very picturesque as always. There was as much water flowing on this day as I’ve ever seen in Little and Big Fiery Gizzard Creeks, although there were still lengthy sections of Big Fiery Gizzard Creek with no flowing water; it’s all flowing through subterranean caves in those areas. But I’m getting ahead of meself.
Soon after this point he trail leaves the stream and climbs up a rocky slope. This is a moderate part of the trail and lasts for less than 100 yards. The climb is tricky; be sure to watch your step on the rocks — or else.
The trail widens again and comes to a group of tall rock outcroppings. The main one, called Chimney Rock, is more than 20 feet high. No one climbed it today –probably a good thing. Just past the chimneys, a spur trail to the right leads to Sycamore Falls.
The Fiery Gizzard trail proper (I think) continues for another 11 miles and ends at 100-foot high Foster Falls, although our farthest point was to be Raven Point. I have yet to hike all the way to Foster Falls; this would have to be either an extremely challenging day hike starting at the crack of dawn, or more sanely, an overnight camping excursion. D’oh — digression, begone! (Much more coming soon - please check back)
(NOTE: After you’ve enjoyed these images to your satisfaction, tap your browser’s ‘refresh’ button to see additional images; the pics shown here are pulled at random from categorized image folders, so there are more photos to see. ALSO: I’m still working on the Fiery Gizzard post and related pics; please check back.)
Without detailing the mental chatter, my hike did not come easy this evening; but the good shoulder angel won out over the horned red shoulder angel and I made it to Radnor Lake. I thought I might go for a relatively long hike despite the late arrival time of 6:30pm, so I parked up at the church.
I was on the phone with Ken “Good” Hair as I walked up Otter Creek Road toward the Granny White parking lot, but before I reached the entrance I saw a deer grazing about 10 yards away, on the edge of a very thickly wooded area. Since I cannot do two things at once, there must have been an odd pause or some other weirdness on Ken’s side of the communiqué as I fumbled my camera into shooting position. But I remember the important part: we have a meeting with a potential new website client this Thursday at 1:30.
When I reached the parking lot, I noticed the red flowers bursting forth from the thick shrub-brush between Otter Creek Road and the Radnor Lake parking lot, so I captured a few shots of that. I cannot identify it – the flower is shaped almost exactly like a trumpet vine, but colored differently. I bet Jennifer can ID it! How about it, Jennifer?
I was listening to Miguel Ruiz reading one of his three great books, The Voice of Knowledge, on my iPod as I walked up the hill and approached the gravel road for the usual standard shots I take on each visit for later time-lapse experimentation.
After getting those shots, I saw an attractive young couple closely inspecting the concrete wall or something on it. As I approached, the fellow said one of the words that always makes me feel happy: “snake”! He even said “water snake,” so I knew he wasn’t ignorant of nature. So many unlightened folks might have said “water moccasin” or “copperhead” – or worse, “we just killed this poisonous snake!”
Once I saw the snake on the wall they were observing, I realized we were lucky to be watching it at all: it was not a large snake, it was not brightly colored, and it was not moving; I’m amazed they noticed it at all. Good job!
I took dozens of pictures of this young (1-2 years of age) Northern Water Snake, which remained in the exact same position for the entire 15 minutes the three of us were watching it. It did not move, even as we got closer and closer to it with the camera in an effort to get some great shots. Even when I practically rested the camera on the snake’s tail, it still remained frozen in its stately (for a snake, seriously) position for us: a perfectly posing snake, indeed!
But it was very, very difficult to get the digital camera to focus on the slender snake; the automated gadget really wanted to focus on the foliage or the lake in the background instead. The guy (I failed to get his name - how rude of me) sounded like he knew his way around a digital camera, so he had his turn to attempt some nice clear pics of this fearless, posing young water snake. As he took pictures, all three of us were still marveling at the chance sighting of this awesome little creature. So, credit for all of the images of the Northern Water Snake associated with this post is hereby awarded jointly to me (Stephen Frasier) and the mystery fellow, the male half of the couple who noticed the snake on the wall in the first place. Thanks!
Events from the momentous hike on Tuesday, June 3, 2008
After proceeding up the steep climb at Ganier Ridge (“hill 4”), I turned around and began to retrace my steps to the car. Although I’d intended to hike the full 4.5-mile loop this morning, the bountiful environs encompassing Radnor Lake had already yielded so many photo ops — 101 to be exact — as to take up half the morning. I had to turn around when I reached the top of Ganier in order to be on time for a noon meeting. The resulting sightings and photos seem more reminiscent of a trip to a major National Park than to a small suburban pocket of wilderness in Nashville, and for that I’ll long be grateful.
I have seen very few different snake species — fewer than five, I believe — at Radnor Lake this year (2008), but I’m sure I’ll see a much greater variety of serpentry in the coming months and years. I have not seen any venomous snakes at Radnor Lake yet, which is rather surprising since copperheads and timber rattlers dwell in the area. The snakes I have seen so far at Radnor Lake during 2008 — all non-venomous and harmless — include:
• Garter Snake
• Northern Water Snake
• Ringneck Snake
• Gray Rat Snake
As I proceeded on the Ganier Ridge Trail and neared the Lake Trail, I noticed a large snake on the left side of the wide mulched pathway; it had just crossed over the trail and was mostly in the leaves. Because it was moving slowly – not fast enough to rustle the leaves or make any other noise, really – and due to its camouflaging pattern and coloration, I believe I was rather fortunate to see it.
The snake was easy to identity; I see more gray rat snakes (Pantherophis spiloides than any other constrictor at Radnor Lake. However, this one was special: it was the biggest gray rat snake I have ever seen, anywhere, captive or wild! It was fantastic to come across this Pantherophis specimen, since all the other snakes I’ve found at Radnor Lake this year were unremarkably sized; for example, the Gray Rat Snake found by Kelly, Tracy, and me three weeks ago was a typical three feet or so in length.
I was so excited! I was quite pleased that this rat snake did not take off as I invaded its space; it had a calm, even enlightened demeanor and the snake alternated between slow, steady movement and stillness.
Before bothering it, I photographed it as best I could; but its impressive length and stretched-out position made the rat snake difficult to capture fully in a photo; it was not curled up or anything. It rested partially in a patch of sunlight which helped quite a bit with the photos.
Luckily, a nature-loving pair — a girl and her mother, of McGuirk lineage (I hope you don’t mind this mention) — had been walking close behind me and now approached, so able hands were available to photograph this reptile capture.
I asked the girl if she’d mind snapping some pics, and she kindly agreed and took a few pictures as I captured the snake (without hurting it or putting it in any discomfort, of course).
The biggest surprise of all was the docile nature of this huge rat snake. I have caught many a wild rat snake on hikes throughout Tennessee and Georgia, they usually bite (or try to bite). They do not want to be picked up; they are absolutely terrified of humans.
But they have more than mere biting in their arsenal! Many snakes emit a very foul and nasty-smelling musky liquid onto your hands right when you pick them up.
The safest, most conservative way to capture a large non-venomous snake using one’s bare hands is to grab a nearby stick or something else with which to pin down the snake’s head, gently but firmly, to allow the snake to be grasped just behind the head, reducing the risk of being bitten to near zero. But I did not want to do it that way. Boring!
I am pretty used to being bitten by harmless snakes when I catch them; it’s not a big deal at all. Most large harmless snakes can easily break the skin with a bite; they have a mouth full of generally tiny teeth. In small snakes, the teeth can feel like Velcro and not even break the skin. If this snake bit me – and I accepted that strong possibility before I picked it up – it would hurt a little and maybe bleed a bit but would be no big deal.
(NOTE: When the bite of a harmless snake breaks the skin, infection is a possibility, just as it is with any other animal; after all, an amazing variety of bacterial life dwelleth in the mouth of a snake or a mouse or a human or virtually any other living creature capable of a bite.)
I grabbed the snake about 8-12 inches from the tail and lifted it. Larger snakes are naturally heavier, too, making it much harder for the snake to lift its body and head up for a rapid bite. These physics worked in my favor and I did not receive a bite. Astonishingly, it did not even attempt to bite, and it did not seem to get very upset, either, especially after 30 seconds or so when it probably realized it was not in danger from me.
This is when I realized how big this rat snake was. I had to lift my arm almost all the way up to get the snake fully off the ground.
The huge gray rat snake was shiny, clean, healthy, and dry. It was a pleasure to handle, and after a minute or less, the snake seemed to be completely comfortable with being held; it even seemed to behave more like a pet snake than a wild one. I was instantly taken back to my youth when snake handling – as a hobby, not a religious practice – was routine! (On second thought, this sort of proximity to nature is as much of a religious experience as any other for me these days; it’s wonderful.)
All three of us admired the snake for a few minutes, up close and personal. It was outstanding. Both mother and daughter touched the snake; they did not behave in that annoying, fearful manner so many others might.
Despite the bond I felt with this reptile, which for some unfortunate reason is the representation of Satan in fundamentalist Christianity, I knew I could not keep this beautiful creature. Actually, I did not even consider such a thing as making the snake my property, and the absence of that desire is a notable and interesting fact for me: I almost certainly would have desired this reptile for myself in years past.
As strange, cheesy, prissy, or bleeding-heart as this may sound, the love and compassion I felt toward this creature was warm and beautiful. I knew that I was – I am — one with it. Yes, I am one with the gray rat snake (as are you, in this way of thinking) and indeed this is so with everything, not just the snake. I also now realize and actually understand that whatever I do to this snake, I do to myself. Since we are all connected, these insights are important in my humble opinion.
It is amazing — but far more unfortunate – that entire swaths of land are being picked clean of all snakes, lizards, turtles, and frogs by reptile and amphibian collectors. These wild, innocent and once free creatures are yanked from their environment, caged, and traded on the Internet and anywhere else an animal can be sold. There was a time in my life when I might have engaged in such a vocation or economic opportunity with verve and vigor, but those days are long gone.
All photos in this post were taken at Nashville’s Radnor Lake and edited on Tuesday, June 3, 2008 by Stephen Frasier using an Olympus Stylus 790 SW and Macromedia/Adobe Fireworks MX 2004; author’s email is stephen [at] bestWebNashville [dot] com
Now that the summer heat has set in, hiking early in the morning is an even better idea than usual. I hit the Radnor Lake hiking trails at 7:45am, wondering how I could possibly have forgotten my iPod. Thanks to the iPod, personal growth, idea generation and evolution, and a deepening of insight all occur at an unprecedented rate these days, for during most hikes, I listen to my audiobook collection, the majority of which is nonfiction and intensely interesting to me these days.
Having no iPod today put into play a series of events that made this hike so unique: I would have made different/ less social decisions during my walk, and I would not have been as alert for the amazing wildlife photo ops that seemed to materialize every few yards.
During the hike and immediately following, my intention was to devote a significant portion of my afternoon writing about it all and documenting every wondrous detail, but my attention tends to drift quite a lot. The material is still fresh, thanks in part to the 101 photos and movies I took during this morning’s hike. I am going to split this into several posts; if I do not do so – were I to delay posting this until completion — it would never appear.
Starting in the Granny White parking lot, I walked up Otter Creek and then turned left onto the gravel road to take some pictures from specific locations which I will use later to create some time lapse imagery.
Before I’d even made it to the spillway bridge, I saw a turtle on its way back to the lake; I closely observed, followed, and photographed a family of Canada Geese as they ate duck weed and then groomed themselves; and I relaxed on bench #66 for some journaling.
Crossing the spillway bridge, I admired a cute young turtle sunning itself on the dam, and an adult turtle in the water underneath the bridge, apparently heading downstream. I suppose that is why I see some of these turtles later, crossing the gravel road to get back to the lake; they’ve gone down the spillway dam into the creek and downstream.
Moments later I saw a mother doe and her very young fawn standing in the middle of the trail a few yards ahead. More skittish than usual due to having young, when they saw me, they went in opposite directions: the fawn went right and the doe went left. The three day-old fawn was alone. Rather than venture between them, I watched for a moment as the fawn wobbled back across the trail toward its mother on its long, unsteady legs. I started walking again, slowly, and was a little surprised that the fawn had not found its way back to mother yet, but was still standing near the trail, in thick brush, terrified of me, apparently; this made a couple of fantastically cute photos of the lone fawn.
Next of note was the viewing platform with two benches ( I need to come up with a name for this thing). I approached the bench, your honor, and peered over the railing, looking for the new resident eagles. Although I could not be 100% certain, I saw what I believe to be one of the eagles as it soared into the cove – Eagle Cove, yes? I thought I was going to see it snare a fish with its talons, but not this time.
Waiting for the eagle to fly back to its traditional perching area (for the last month or so, anyway), I met Cyndy, another hiker. Herons were seen but not the unmistakable white feathered head I was hoping for.
A few more yards bore another mother doe, fawning over another virtual newborn – a bit too far off the trail for good pictures, though.
If you are one of the people I met on the trails of Radnor Lake today, I sure hope you will read this post and then take the time to leave a comment below. I really would appreciate that, as I am trying to attract more visitors to this site and need all the comments I can get. May we meet again one day. Happy trails!
Wow. There has been quite a lot going on and I have posted virtually nothing on any of my blogs in a while. This silence, this pause in writing, is really starting to bug me; you’ll see more blog posts and other activity in the near future.
For some strange reason, I have been targeted by a clever identity thief, and it is taking a great deal of my time, effort, and funds to get things back into order. Some things are permanently lost, including some BW clients, all email history and attachments for the last couple of years, some money, a lot of work, and so on. Most of the losses occurred around May 20, but I continue to discover additional challenges.
Until further notice, I will be using my BestWeb Nashville email address, which is Stephen (at) BestWeb Nashville (dot) com – no spaces in that, naturally.
I am resilient these days – relatively speaking, anyway; therefore, some semblance of normalcy will return. I am rebuilding. Thanks for your patience. Any donations will be very much appreciated and should be mailed to my home address:
Stephen Frasier
1608 North Observatory Dr.
Nashville, TN 37215
for having what many would consider a dream job! And in fact, park rangership is just that – a dream job – to several of the park rangers, including at least three on the current roster. I know that because they have told me so, verbatim. One of the present park rangers patiently bided her time, she said, as her name slowly crept upwards on a Tennessee state hiring waiting list for over five years for this specific gig! Of course, Radnor Lake park rangerhood is not always fun, as they’ve told me. Few jobs are. Nevertheless, I feel comfortable calling it an incredible job, a wondrous (and even spiritual, to some) way to earn one’s living.
