Trail Time – Spring is here!
The sun has visited the Gunflint Trail daily this week and it has been heaven to work in the woods in the warm weather with a cool breeze and no bugs! There is so much to accomplish in the spring: gardens to prepare, sprinkler systems to maintain, decks to rebuild, paths to cut through the woods so when the leaves do pop, humans can walk down a trail without getting whipped in the face by a thin branch. I think cutting the brush helps with tick control too. And you can see the trail better.
The ice is finally out on some lakes, not on others, and it’s always difficult to predict what schedule a lake is on. Large Gunflint Lake is wide open now. The east and west ends of smaller Loon Lake are open, but the middle portion is covered in thick slush with a daily growing amount of open water. Loons have been sighted in an open bay of Loon Lake. I’ve heard a very few as they fly overhead. Poplar Lake still had some ice on it yesterday, but Seagull Lake is wide open and the water level is very high. It’s happening. Spring is here. And…of course…that doesn’t mean it won’t snow again. We are famous for our May snowstorms up here. They don’t last long and we can use the moisture — especially needed before full green-up occurs, which is happening, but slowly. The buds are just popping out and the peepers can be heard at end of day.
The lakes aren’t the only things that are opening up. The restaurants are opening again at the Gunflint Trail lodges which close for the shoulder seasons. Hungry Jack Lodge, Trail Center and Poplar Haus will re-open this week, as will Raven Rock Grill at Skyport Lodge. Borderland Lodge will reopen their dining room by the end of May. As always, Justine’s at Gunflint Lodge is open for business. Contact the lodges for details.
The beauty of these spring north woods days doesn’t end at sunset. Last night I heard a barred owl as I lay in bed. Ah, how wonderful it is to sleep with a window open again! The call came from a direction that might mean owls have found the nesting box we built and mounted a few years ago. Maybe the owlets have fledged by now. The mated pairs build nests and lay eggs in March or April that hatch in about a four weeks. The babies will learn to hunt for a couple months and cease being dependent on their parents in June or July. Hunting is basically a barred owl’s superpower. Their prowess is due to the anatomy of their ears. A barred owl’s ears are at two different levels: the right ear is higher than its left ear, so they can triangulate on sounds that prey makes with pinpoint accuracy. I’ll head out some evening and try to zero in on them with my human ears. I’ll have to do my dusk exploring soon, since before you know it, the mosquitoes will make a lovely evening stroll an entirely different proposition.
For the last few days, twilight has brought us the sound of woodcocks winnowing; they make a strange whinnying noise when the males do a courtship sky dance by flying up in the air and then plummeting to earth. The sound is made by the air rushing through their feathers. It’s an amazing display. I’ve seen a few woodcocks this spring at the edges of the road where the ground was softening in the sun as the ice left. They dig their bills into the earth to find earthworms. Their long bills are so sensitive and flexible that they can detect a worm’s movement below the soil. Woodcocks have other common names. I’m most familiar with Timberdoodle, but they’re also called bogsucker, hookumpeke, and night peck. They are cinnamon-colored and about the size of a small loaf of bread. If you ever have the opportunity to see them walk across a road or a trail, do stop and take the time to watch. You will never forget seeing that small plump bird with its long bill doing the samba across the road. Sometimes they are followed by their chicks, all doodling away, dancing the samba behind their mama.
The fine weather demands working in the woods: Sun on my shoulders, raspberry prickles tugging at my trousers. A woodpecker drummed on a hollow tree down toward the lake by the bay. White puffy clouds scudded against a cerulean sky. A flicker called. A Blue Jay hollered.
The quiet snip of my hand loppers blended in with the sounds of a sunny spring birch and balsam forest: the sigh of the wind as it moved through the pines below; the rumbling sounds of lake ice, moved by the wind, gave a near-constant bass note to the higher-pitched songbirds starting the seasonal chorus. Then I heard one lovely song from a small bird hidden away behind small cedars. I’m not sure what kind of bird it was; but it was such a delightfully sweet tune that it made me laugh out loud with pleasure. To my surprise, the bird called again; I laughed again leading to the same result. This went on until I ran out of laughs and got real still and said thank you for the music. I was a little stunned by the beauty of the moment, and stood there grinning, happy and alone on a spring day in the beautiful north woods, just feeling so lucky.
