I walked past the spillway, took a left and headed toward Ganier Ridge, and doubled back once I’d climbed the steep hill.

Near the top, I noticed some movement at the base of a tree, but whatever it was, it was too tiny to register in my mind as a possible reptile. Upon closer inspection, there were at least three very young fence lizards — a couple on this tree and another a few feet away.  These lizards were so tiny, they must have hatched quite recently.  I got a couple of pictures which I will post as soon as I can.

There were a couple of hikers that paused their approach from the ridge when they saw me engaged in apparent tree trunk photography. These kindly hikers turned out to be Toni and Becky, both CPAs here in Nashville.  We were having a nice conversation until our paths diverged.  Reflecting back, I wish I had gone their way and continued the conversation rather than heading my own way.  Isn’t that just like me, the introvert? (Yes.)

Anyway, the hike was quite enjoyable, at least during the portion spent talking with my fellow hikers, for I had gotten out of my head: not  a particularly pleasant place to be this morning. The remainder of the day will be better, I’m sure.  With that, I am off to a meeting. Pics to come later.

I have long suspected that the alligator snapper resides at Radnor Lake, but I have no evidence to present. There was, however, some convincing hearsay from a nurse walking on Otter Creek Road with her young daughter. She confidently answered a couple of questions about a supposedly amazing, huge turtle sighting she had within the last year, and her answers pointed to the Alligator Snapper. Two primary characteristics the aforementioned road-crossing turtle had were the large size and the prominently ridged carapace, or shell.

However, Dr. James T. Arnett, a longtime family friend and biology professor at Lipscomb University (see his comment under this post), has conducted extensive, formal turtle research at Radnor Lake spanning several years, and he seems nearly positive that the Alligator Snapper is NOT a local resident.

My longtime fascination with the alligator snapper finally came to mind while I was online, so I started digging around a bit. The results were surprising and encouraging, given the fact that the “official” (i.e., per a rather dated Petersen Field Guide I pulled off my bookshelf) range of the Alligator Snapping Turtle does NOT include Nashville – although Nashville DOES have an “X” on the map, meaning that the species has been spotted in Nashville by a credible herpetologist or similar professional.

The Army Corps of Engineers says alligator snappers are Tennessee residents (see Corps Inventory). Of course, this does not make them Radnor Lake residents, necessarily; however, given the completely wild and unspoiled environment of Radnor Lake, I would be rather surprised to find the alligator snapping turtle dwells in Nashville but NOT at Radnor Lake. (NOTE: I have no evidence of Nashville residency for alligator snappers; the Corps of Engineers lists them in the Memphis area, not Nashville.)

On the other hand, how on earth would an alligator snapper make its way to Radnor Lake? It is fascinating how creatures populate new areas. How did ANY of the aquatic reptiles and amphibians come to make their home at Radnor? Obviously they were either released there or made their way over land. That is a mind bender to be addressed at another time, perhaps, but suffice it to say that perhaps spontaneous generation theories from the 1800s and earlier were not as idiotic as once I figured.

I would love to see an Alligator snapper in the wild, but collecting wild specimens of this protected turtle is prohibited in Tennessee and a few other states. I see Common Snapping Turtles quite frequently at Radnor Lake, and some of them are huge in relation to the commons I have seen and/or captured (and released) in Brown’s Creek during my childhood. But get this:

There is an unverified report of a 403-pound alligator snapping turtle found in the Neosho River in Kansas in 1937, but the largest one actually on record is 236 lb, and housed at Brookfield Zoo in Chicago, Illinois. They generally do not grow quite that large. Average adult size is around 26 inches shell length with a weight of 175 lb. Males are typically larger than females. Alligator snapping turtles can also range in length from 16 to 32 inches. (Source: Wikipedia.com)

Now there’s a turtle I would like to see; and I’m not proud of the fact that snapping turtle soup also came to mind. (I have enjoyed this delicacy three or four times at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse over the years, but I would not support such a menu item if I learned that any cruelty was involved in obtaining this soup ingredient.

Actually, I just found this here:

World’s Largest Alligator Snapping Turtle – Chattanooga – This turtle is on display at the Tennessee Aquarium at One Broad Street in Chattanooga. As the world’s largest alligator snapping turtle, he tips the scales at 249 pounds. His species is unique to America. The turtle is highly secretive in its natural habitat, walking along stream bottoms, hiding during daylight hours and becoming active at night. Unlike other aquatic turtles, alligator snappers cannot remain submerged for long periods of time, and are considered an ambush predator, entices fish within striking distance by a pseudo-annelid lure located on the floor of its mouth. Snappers are considered dangerous when provoked and do not let go once they have closed their beak. Alligator snapping turtles have been around since dinosaurs ruled the earth, are declining in this century and may one day be extinct. 800-262-0695; www.tnawua.org

Nashville Alligator Snappers? Alligator Snapping Turtles on the Web

Arkive – Images of Life on Earth

Midwest Turtles

Resources for My Fellow Nashville Reptile Lovers

Herp Digest

Center for Reptile and Amphibian Conservation and Management

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

On my way up so-called “hill1” – the climb on the South Cove Trail nearest to the west (Granny White side) parking lot, I came upon a juvenile eastern box turtle. The appearance of baby turtles is interesting in that it differs significantly from the adult in color and shape, and not merely size. The design on the shell is different, and more incredibly, the shape of the carapace (shell) itself is much flatter than the shape it will take on as it matures.

In fact, the only reason I could positively identify the hatchling was that I’d seen newly hatched Eastern Box Turtles before. As a tween, I built and maintained what I referred to as the “turtle farm”. The turtle farm, was a big hit with all my animal loving friends, was a small enclosure I build in a small inconspicuous part of our yard on Lealand Lane. Even my folks were somewhat intrigued by it. (Well, on second thought, maybe not intrigued, but tolerant.) Although we moved and I had to dismantle the turtle farm, I uncovered some eggs, looked inside one of them, and preserved the tiny box turtle in a jar of alcohol. This tiny turtle, resting in the middle of the trail where it could easily be trod upon, looked just like that turtle farm specimen.

I’ve been blogging so little lately, I bet one or two folks may have even noticed. I do feel somewhat guilty about it…like sort of a slacker, I guess. Well, I will try to get back into my writing groove.

Try? What a lot of BS. You don’t TRY – you either DO something, or you DON’T, right? So I shall.

Tracy and I had already set 4:30 as our time to meet in the Granny White parking lot. At 4:05, Kelly calls to ask if I can hike in 15 minutes. I’ve been trying to get the three of us together for a while now, but with Kelly’s travel schedule and Tracy’s Senior Account Excecutive-ship, it’s not easy. But it happened today. But not TODAY today….know what I mean? 

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.

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).

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)