Another season-cusp at Croft

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I keep thinking I’d like to go visit Croft State Park in the summer time, but before I know it, here it is the end of Autumn. Oh well, I’ll take what I can get.

I got off to a nice early start, taking full advantage of my favorite time of day. First stop, Fairforest Creek:

Yup, sunrise in the forest. It’s a beautiful thing.

Even if a tree is laying down, it still looks tall.

Last time I crossed the creek here on the Johnson Lake Fairforest Creek Connector trail, things were dryer and I was able to just hop across on the rocks.

This time it was a bit different, with some recent rains. I didn’t want to get my shoes wet. It’s interesting that with a nice diverse mix of trees, the leaves on the ground are similarly diverse.

Last time I went through here I missed where the trail turned to cross the creek and ended up following an unmapped trail for a ways. This time I was wary, but there were also much clearer markings. I’d like to think that was in response to my report last time.

I had stopped along side Lake Johnson to get some pictures of the geese out on the lake. I was thinking, gee, I don’t see any Herons, I might not get my “obligatory Great Blue Heron” picture. Then I moved a little to one side, and, Holy Zarquon’s Singing Fish! There was a Heron right there on a tree that had fallen into the water.

He seemed OK with my being there, but then a couple humans came walking along the trail and that was probably a bit too much, and off she went. I don’t think the wings were actually touching the water, the ripples trailing back are probably from the downwash.

Oh yeah, here’s a couple of those Canada Geese:

Interesting how most of my wildlife pictures show the wildlife heading away.

I had one little misadventure. I was following the Lake Johnson trail south along the east side of the lake, looking for the Lake Johnson Loop trail where I would turn east. Somehow I missed that. I remember crossing a path, but nothing triggered me to say “ah, trail”, and the trail I was following kept going south. So I kept going. As long as I had Lake Johnson on the right and I was going south, I about had to get where I was going.

Now that’s what you call Erosion. Not sure what caused this, as there wasn’t really any indication of water flow.

After a while, I was really wondering where that loop trail was. It was a good spot to stop for another lunch, and, sigh, I decided to see what my phone could tell me. I was now just east of Lake Craig, a good mile+ south of where I should have turned. I considered backtracking, but according to the trail map, the Foster Mill Loop trail should be just a proverbial stone’s throw to the east, and the trail was turning in that direction anyway. I figured it’d be worth 15 minutes or so to see if that would play out, so I continued on (“The best way out is always through” – Robert Frost).

As soon as I set off, I passed a sign on a tree facing the other way. I turned to see that it said “this isn’t a real trail, you really really should go back” (or words to that effect). Ok, I did a 360 [degree turn] to go back the way I was already heading. That sign was actually encouraging, since if people might wander there from the opposite direction, I was probably close to a published trail. Turns out I was right, it wasn’t but 5 minutes before I met up with the Foster Mill Loop and Beech Tree trails.

I spoke with a Park Ranger about it since, even though I’m no master woodsman, if I could miss the turn, someone else could, and she took the report so the signage at that intersection could be improved. She said there are a lot of these “rogue” trails around the park, and added that they were expecting the Army Corps of Engineers to be out there next year to clear some of the western end (the park used to be an army training base during WWII, so there could be Dangerous Things laying around) and maybe open up some of the “rogue” trails in that area.

From my somewhat-abused and highlighted-after-the-fact trail map:

I didn’t bother trying to create a GPS track, due to power requirements and with all the twists and turns, a GPS distance wouldn’t be terribly accurate. I’d guess, however, from published trail lengths, that was about 12-13 miles.

Creature Feature 2019 #7

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I know, where have I been? Lately my calendar has looked more like grated Swiss cheese, rather than anything with any sense of order. Oh well, at least it can serve as a source of entropy if I need more random numbers.

The weather lately has had me guessing if I’m opening the windows to cool off the house or warm it up. This afternoon it turned into the latter, and I took advantage of that post-cold-front downslope-warmed air to get out on the lake a bit.

It must have been a good soaring day, because the large birds were up there, like this Black Vulture:

A lot of the part-timers have moved to their winter homes, but the Canada Geese are year-rounders here:

On a nice sunny day like this, the turtles were out all over the place taking advantage:

Wait! Don’t go! Dang wind drifted me too close…

I’m not sure why this Great Blue Heron was holding his beak open like this; it looks like maybe he was having an issue swallowing something.

She was able to fly away as the wind drifted me in just a little too close (again – I try to not do that):

I generally like to keep a positive note, but this was one of those times when I came back in with more litter than pictures to post.

With all of Nature out there to enjoy, why the beer (which, BTW, is prohibited by the lake rules, as is, of course, littering)? And evidently there are people who think the lake needs more water. News: it doesn’t.

Creature Feature 2019 #6

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I had just a little time this morning, so it was off into the dawn to get in a little paddling. With the early light, I didn’t expect much in the way of pictures, but Nature was on full display and I managed a few publishable shots.
Yes, the Great Egrets are back. This is the time of year I see them around here.

I reached an impasse working my way up a little feeder creek, but just as well, as I didn’t want to disturb what appeared to be a family of Raccoons.

And then while I was snapping pictures of them, a Great Blue Heron comes strolling by right behind the Raccoons.

There was a splash, and I assume he either got breakfast or nearly so, and then ambled back the other way; you can see a Raccoon tail in the lower right. Consider this the obligatory Great Blue Heron picture.

Creature Feature 2019 #5

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Many humans declare summer to be over on this Labor Day (US) holiday, and some use the Autumnal equinox to mark the spot. But for most, the change of seasons is more of a process, rather than a point in time.

As the nestlings grow to fledglings and juveniles and start to fend for themselves, the breeding season winds down, leaving things noticeably quieter around the lake. Some of the part-time residents are either making preparations or are already migrating to their winter habitats.

These Geese are year-round residents:

This little Killdeer, being eyed by the Goose, seemed rather pale in color, but the call was definitive. If you look carefully, you can see the obligatory Great Blue Heron back in the woods on the left.

The Turkey Vultures are also full-timers (I guess the year-round road kill around here keeps them fed):

Last time I wrote about almost being fooled by juvenile Little Blue Herons, but this big white bird is definitely a Great Egret. I only see them around here during this time of year, so they’re the migrating sort.

Speaking of Turkeys, I’ve seen Wild Turkeys, but this is the first time I’ve seen any right around the lake (just when I think I’ve seen it all, Nature throws something else in front of me):

There’s something about being out in the open under a low cloud layer. It’s almost like being in the air among the clouds (been there, done that), and gives me a tremendous sense of the sheer scale of the sky. It’s big.

Creature Feature 2019 #4

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Yesterday’s thunderstorms must have wrung some of the dampness out of the atmosphere, because this morning one could almost think there was a touch of fall in the air. Well, maybe just a little, with the temperature and dewpoint a good 5F below what they’ve been in recent mornings. With mostly blue skies and a light breeze, it was a really good time to be out on the lake at sunrise.
The weather this year seems to have been hard on a lot of the trees. It didn’t look like there was much holding this one down.

Reaching the northwest end of the lake, I came across a juvenile White Ibis. I’d seen one once before, although obviously not this same one: the first one would not be in juvenile plumage now.

When I set out I spotted a few bits of white feathers on the water. I figured the Egrets were back (I usually see them in late summer/early autumn); I’ve seen Great Egrets around here. I found the white birds hanging out up at the end of the lake.

A careful examination of the photos, however, shows that these are actually young Little Blue Herons. Obviously there must be adult Herons around here too that I haven’t seen. What’s interesting is that most of the range maps either don’t show them in this area, or we’re right on the edge of their range.
Of course, the other residents were active, like the Canada Geese.

And, of course, the obligatory Great Blue Heron picture.

Creature Feature 2019 #3

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A little catch up from what I had in the camera, and a little catchup on paddling.
Sunrise: my favorite time of day.

Early in the morning like this, and with our usual summertime humidity that can be measured in liters/gallons, some fog is inevitiable;

Still, there are those little nooks and cranies around the lake that are pretty neat.

But enough of the scenery, on with the creatures to be featured today, like this Cormorant and Goose:

The Osprey were on the job:

Ok, one more bit of scenery. Recent storms left a number of freshly-downed trees around the lake, but this chunk had been there for a while. Between the reflection and refraction, it looks like a really big arrow crash-landed in the lake (shot by a really big creature?):

I don’t know if this is the work of some creature, but it almost has to be, even if that creature is a human. It resembles what results when a roll of hay gets away and lands in the lake, but not quite. There are beavers active in this area:

We know the Herons go in the trees, but it’s rather rare to see one sitting out in the open like this. The obligatory Great Blue Heron picture:

Creature Feature 2019 #2

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We’ll start this one a little closer to home. I don’t see many turtles (or, in fact, any) around the house, but this one was crossing the driveway.

As there wasn’t a lot of traffic that might endanger him, I left her to make her own way.
Can you spot the snake? I almost missed this guy, but fortunately I did because I was armed with a lawnmower at the time.

If you’re still having trouble seeing the creature:

Ok, he’s still pretty hard to see.

Schedule pushed me to make my lake outing at an usual time of day: evening. The light was fading, making it less than ideal for photography, but I did catch this one illustrating why Double Crested Cormorants are often called “snake birds”:

Yes, that’s a Great Blue Heron in the background. Here’s the real obligatory Great Blue Heron picture:

I tried to catch the sun dog, but the photograph just doesn’t do it justice.

Still, it was a nice evening to finally get out.

Creature Feature 2019 #1

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I know, what took me so long to get the first Creature Feature of 2019 posted? I’ve been busy, and the screwy weather hasn’t helped. Anyway, on with the show…
With the light being what it was, all I can say about this guy is “Bird”:

On a nice warm day like this, Turtles were out all over the place:

Plus some other creatures:

Yes, Dragonflies are coming out now. Give ’em another month and they’ll be everywhere:

The Ducks are, of course, here year-round (a bit surprising I didn’t see a female in this group):

The Osprey were out and about too:

They always have a nest on top of the water-system intake structure. I wasn’t sure, but upon a close look there is a head in there amongst the branches, towards the left side.

The calling made it clear, though, that someone was home. As luck would have at, after I came ashore I was sitting on the dock taking in the view and the breeze when I spotted an Osprey overhead. I watched as he almost stopped in mid-air, hovered a bit, then tucked into a dive right straight down into the water. I didn’t see if he came up with anything, but it was neat to watch. Unfortunately, I was sitting on the dock and my camera was in the boat over by the ramp. Oh well.
One inlet I went up turned out to be where the meeting must have been being held. A whole bunch of Double-crested Cormorants and Herons decided to head the other way (I hope the meeting was just breaking up, not that I broke it up):

Of course, we have the obligatory Great Blue Heron picture:

As usual, click on the pictures for a full-res version.

Croft in Spring

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I got an opportunity to make another visit to Croft State Park and take a little spring walk in the woods. It might still look a good bit like winter:

and it even felt a bit like winter starting out, but a little closer look around:

up:

and even down:


shows that spring is well under way. The early morning chill didn’t last long either, and soon my extra layers were in the backpack.

One thing I like about Croft is that the trails are, well, trails, and are often just a path through the woods (some places seem to consider a “trail” a paved bit of road that just happens to be too narrow for a car). Of course, that means sometimes you have to be a bit creative and use what Nature provides to get around (or over):

That crossing is on the Whitestone Springs trail, which leads, as one might guess, to Whitestone Springs. That must be the spring itself there:

I’ll do the stereotypical social media thing and post about where and what I had for lunch:

A ham, turkey, swiss sandwich on whole wheat and a banana, eaten near the south end of the Rocky Ridge trail. Actually, that was one of about three lunch breaks I took. Like hypersonic flight, walking around in the woods makes me hungry.
A bit over a year ago, a section of the park was torn up by storms and a tornado. The Beech Tree trail was closed for a long time. I headed up that trail this time and found out why:


In the woods, a lot of the wildlife is hidden from view, but in that torn-up area I did spot a red-tailed hawk:

Sorry, that’s the best I could get with my cell phone camera. Still, if you listen, you can tell you’re far from alone out there. Here’s a little video with the sound massaged so you can hear who’s out there.
VID_20190329_091154021_final
I have a T-shirt with a picture similar to this one, with the caption “Recalculating”:

The trail didn’t actually go down that hill, but it was a nice view.
My route ended up going north on the Foster’s Mill Loop trail, down the eastern side of the loop to the Rocky Ridge trail, back to Foster’s Mill, then up, around, and back on the Beech Tree trail, and because I just didn’t feel done just yet, the Nature Trail. Then I was done.

Strange idea #1: flight of fancy

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Update: shortly after I posted this, NASA released some very interesting images taken with schlieren photography of a pair of supersonic T-34 aircraft showing their shock waves.

Sometimes I get these strange ideas. Ok, a lot of the time I get strange ideas. This one feels a bit more fleshed out than many, perhaps because I can reference a bunch of Wikipedia (et.al.) articles to explain and support it (sorry if I got carried away with the links).

I’m thinking about waverider aircraft, which take advantage of compression lift to improve performance at supersonic speeds.

Now for the strange part. What if a bird could go fast enough to exploit compression lift? The pointy Corvidae aerodynamics would seem to be suitable for this. Yes, it’d take a lot of flapping to get up to waverider speeds, but if I had my superpower of choice, the ability to become inertia-less or mass-less (really the same thing), I bet I could pull it off. My ability to disassociate myself from the Higgs field is easily the farthest “out there” of anything in this scenario. So what would that be like?….

[The song “Riding the Waves” from The Afro Celt Sound System‘s “Volume 2: Release” album makes a good soundtrack for this. The one I found on YouTube was somehow slowed down, and just doesn’t work for this, so find the album version. Queue it up from your favorite music source and let’s GO.]

I start out in a Blue Jay’s preferred habitat: the forest, in this case near the Southern Appalachian Mountains of the southeast USA. This is going to take a Lot of room, so I start with my usual ducking, diving, and weaving through the forest. This is always just good fun, but now I’m accelerating hard, until popping out the top of the forest into a bright clear sunny VFR morning. I’m going fast enough already that predators shouldn’t be much a problem, although I’m wary of those big metal things humans stick up in the air. At least they’re noisy so you can hear them coming.

Now I continue climbing, accelerating a bit but mostly climbing, looking for that sweet spot in the atmosphere where the air is thin enough to significantly reduce my drag but is still thick enough to get a good shove off of to apply thrust.

Reaching that altitude, around what y’all would call 10000′ density altitude (I’m not concerned about the number, though, I know it when I feel it), I level off and start to accelerate. As I shed those Higgs bosons and become more mass-less, acceleration really picks up. I’m not even using all my wings at this point, just the outer portions, almost humming-bird style. The rest of my wings are folded in to reduce drag. My tail is folded fully in: at this speed there’s not much surface needed for pitch and yaw control. In fact, I need to be careful to make only the tiniest of adjustments to maintain control.

The sonic shock wave is building in front of my beak. I can almost see it distorting the air. My speed is reasonably measured in hundreds of meters per second now.

I’m controlling my boundary layer to maintain a laminar flow, where the air right next to my feathers is hardly moving at all, while successive layers air going outward are going faster and faster. This maintains a very low drag as well as insulating me from the heat that’s being generated by all this air rubbing against the rest of the air. This requires a very active, distributed, lightning-reflex-fast flight control system. Just like a bird’s.

Now I’m going transsonic. This is the tricky part. Most of the airflow over me has become supersonic, but there are still parts that are subsonic. Aerodynamics are very different between those two regiems. My extreme aerodynamic control is handling it.

Reaching fully supersonic speed, I poke through the shock wave. Again, this is tricky, one slip and I could turn into a pile of feathers going in all directions at once. I place myself just in front of the shock wave with careful pitch and speed adjustments. I extend just a little of my wingtips and droop them down to contain the shock wave, and I can start to feel the compression lift, until it’s almost like being shoved forward. I take advantage of that to pitch up ever so slightly to climb higher. The air is really thin up here as I reach the the upper troposphere, but now I don’t need to apply much thrust at all, and the reduced drag helps the acceleration continue. I’m almost ballistic, riding the shock wave.

Shoved to hypersonic speeds, North America just slides by. The Appalachians are just a line of hills below, zipping by. I continue to control that boundary layer to maintain speed and temperature. My flight control system is operating at it’s peak. If it wasn’t, not only could I end up a poof of feathers all over the sky, I’d probably be fried too when I lost the boundary layer.

I’m not worried about predators up this high and fast, but I’m still alert, in case any of those big clumsy human sorta-winged things (can you really call it a wing if it can’t flap?) are up here. I wouldn’t want to scare some human pilot if I could avoid it. Then again…

Wise old pilot: Wh–?
Young co-pilot: Did you see that??
Pilot: I saw … something …. looked like a … bird…
Co-pilot: Yeah, that’s what I thought I saw. But the way it shot past us like that… what’s our airspeed?
Pilot: [Mach] .82.
Co-pilot: Couldn’t have been a bird. Should we report it?
Pilot: Kid, I’m 3 months from retiring with a full pension. I am not reporting that we got passed by a bird at FL330 and Mach .82. No, not even to ASRS!

I alter course ever so slightly (at 1500+ meters/second there’s no sharp turns, even if I still mass just about nothing) to angle across the North Atlantic, shooting across Europe and Asia. Fortunately my radar signature is almost non-existent, otherwise I might cause an international incident, although in the dark here the slight ionization trail created by the hot air collapsing in my wake is visible (not that I’m watching, my focus is all forward). The darkness isn’t a problem: this high up I have a clear view of the stars in the sky. This, combined with my own sense of direction make navigation easy.

Coming back over North America across Alaska, crossing into Canada, I begin to reduce the meager thrust I’d been using to maintain hypercruise and slowly straighten my wingtips to release the compression wave. Speed begins to rub off slowly. I let my mass start to come back so gravity can begin a slow descent.

As I come back over the United States, I’m down to merely supersonic speeds. I know we’re not supposed to be supersonic over land because the sonic boom bothers people, but with my small size, what they’re probably hearing down there, if anything, is more like a gunshot than a boom. The shock wave I’ve been riding begins to move forward. This is another tricky transition, and all my nerves are fully active to maintain control, sensing the tiniest perturbation of the air, flight attitude, direction, even gravity, and applying just the right corrections with wings, tail, beak, tilt of the head, crest, or even just the way I breathe: it doesn’t take much.

I finally get behind the shock wave and become subsonic approaching the Southern Appalachians. I pitch down a little more to continue descent while still scrubbing off speed. As I slow I extend my wings and tail for additional control and drag to continue decelerating. My flight planning is perfect and I swoop over my home range forest just as my speed comes down to a more normal small-bird 40kph. I drop back into the forest.

I’ve traveled around the northern hemisphere in a little over 5 hours, most of that at Mach 5+, covering about 22,000km. Whew.

Let’s do it again! After I get something to eat, of course. Hypersonic flight always makes me hungry. Good thing I nailed the entry to the forest, ending up right near where there’s always some sunflower seeds. Yum!