Rambling New England Nature

Mount Wachusett, Princeton, MA
 August 15, 2015

From Westminster Road

In a journal entry dated January 27, 1632, Governor John Winthrop mentions seeing “a very high hill,” from his position at the Charles River above Watertown. This very high hill was a dome-shaped mountain named by the Nashuaway Indians, “Watchusett” or “Great Wachusett Hill.”

   It was on the eastern slope of this mountain in 1755 that five year old Lucy Keyes strayed while walking to Wachusett Lake with her sisters. Presumed to be taken by the Wachusett Indians, she was never seen again.

   According to the Reverend Peter Whitney in History of Worcester County (1793), “the circumference of this monstrous mass is about three miles” and its elevation was thought to be from 1,800 to 1,900 feet. In 1884, this measurement didn’t change. But, today, we know the mountain stands 2,006 feet above the surrounding landscape. Whitney lists the following trees as prominent in the Princeton area: oak, chestnut, white ash, beech, birch, maple, butternut and walnut.  

   Once heavily wooded, the timber industry and fires bared much of the mountain for periods over the past several centuries. Still, today 220 acres of the mountain is considered old growth forest with trees that have been standing for 150 to 370 years.

   With all this in mind, I park on Westminster Road in Princeton, at the beginning of Echo Lake Trail. There’s a small pond at the entrance surrounded by concrete, apparently having some use long ago forgotten. In front of it is a thicket consisting of a large patch of the beautiful and fragrant groundnut climbing over chokecherry, jewelweed, Joe Pye weed, ragwood and other shrubs. Groundnut has compound leaves and dense clusters of pink pea-shaped flowers. William Whitman Bailey in New England Wild Flowers (1897) believes groundnut is the loveliest of the pea family.

Groundnut, according to Bailey, has a “powerful but too evanescent fragrance of violets. The shell-like flowers are a purplish brown, and have a peculiar twist in the heel.”

   From the base of Echo Lake Trail, I ascend immediately, passing beneath beech, spruce, hemlock, white pine; and, passing beside wood ferns, grasses, Canada mayflower, starflower. Pine cone scales have been strewn about by squirrels. Sarsaparilla is a leafy plant; the globes of flowers – followed by a globe of purple berries – are hidden by the plant’s compound leaves. The leaves, however, are very conspicuous along this path though they don’t all shade flowers or berries, most of them being sterile leaves. Following this path as it levels off, I see wood fern, whorled aster, only the buds showing, black birch, beech, partridgeberry, and long-awned wood grass.

   While stopping for a closer look at these plants, someone passing me mentions the weather and begins to discuss Echo Lake. “There are many butterflies this year,” she shares, apparently having recently visited the lake. “I saw a yellow bird that might have been a goldfinch. A lot of yellow. Could have been another…. Maybe a waxwing or something?”

   “I would think it was a goldfinch you saw,” I offered.

   “Yes, probably. They raised the causeway last year. They dug up the entire area on the right side and planted grass seed that was washed out. But, this year, many wildflowers sprouted. It’s beautiful.

And they’re attracting lots of butterflies.”

   I thanked her for the history, not having been on this mountain myself for twenty years. Twenty years ago, I spent a lot of time here. In fact, my wife and I walked my son up this mountain three days after he was born on March 30 in 1997. There was still snow on the ground and my wife made sure that if asked I would tell people that our son was older, somewhat embarrassed that we were taking him out at such young age.

   Dewberry covers the ground and blackberries grow above them; the blackberries are ripe and delicious. I’m always surprised that I’m able to enjoy so many blackberries this time of year with many people walking by. People don’t seem to relish wild fruits and nuts the way they used to. So, I end up with all the wild blueberries, whortleberries, grapes and hazelnuts I can eat.

   I hear blue jays, and I see a red squirrel off the path in this cool, mixed forest of beech, oaks and maples. Cinnamon ferns and wood ferns along with wide-spreading mats of partridgeberry and Canada mayflower and the leaves of Clintonia separate the path from the deeper forest. The dense understory consists of young birches, mountain ash, striped maple and small sassafras. Hair grass is on the path along with bulrush.

   The path eventually descends to a small bridge that crosses over a dried brook. It’s always a bit sad to see these woodland brooks all dried out; images of the white water cascading over the rocks in early spring, eddying against a stone or log, then surging forward, the sound of the rushing water, a continuous, monotonous sound, but intricately modulated to the caring ear, the delicate blue or sweet white violets or the white wood anemones that quiver along the shores barely open, immediately come to mind; I’m reminded that this shrinking brook, one day dry forever, might have been part of a mighty river a millennium ago. 

   The brook’s lined by a stone wall to my left, and it’s surrounded by witch hazel, white lettuce, mountain laurel and New York fern. On the opposite side, I see a little white cocoon balanced on the tip of a wood fern frond. It seems to have been picked at by a bird; is there an insect inside? A daddy longlegs is also on the fern leaf.

Daddy longlegs are commonly seen in great numbers throughout forests this time of the year. I often see these spider-like harvestmen (as they’re also called) eating pale-colored moths on plant leaves, moths I generally call bird-dropping moths for their resemblance to white bird droppings. One of the most common that I see is the lesser maple spanworm moth (Itame pustularia).

   Ahead, the path ends and approaches an intersection. To the right a wider, gravel road, called Echo Lake Road, leads to Echo Lake.

I turn right onto this old road and soon approach the lake. It’s actually more like a small pond in size. A pond is shallow enough for plants to take root, while technically a lake is deep enough to prevent light from reaching the bottom and, except for a few floating plants, the water is open and clear. So, technically, this would be a lake, otherwise, I’d see plants such as cat-tail, reed grass and pickerelweed covering large parts of it.

   Ash trees and yellow birch grow alongside this old road and the wildflowers include goldenrod, hog peanut, whorled aster, false Solomon’s seal, heal-all, white lettuce, flat-topped white aster, daisies, rye grass, clover and Joe-Pye weed. As soon as I approach the near corner of the lake, a few pickerel frogs jump toward the lake. I approach closer to the water where I see alder, meadowsweet, yellow loosestrife and chickweed. And, still closer, I see arrowhead, bulrush, maleberry, marsh St. Johnswort, bur-reed and beaver-cut trees. I enjoy standing at the edge of a pond or lake, just outside the moist sphagnum moss. I look out toward the water at the dragonflies and surface insects, I look for fish, and then, I inspect the sphagnum mat for whatever might be growing there, maybe sundew or stunted bugleweed. Returning to the path, I watch a garter snake slide beneath a log and disappear. I wonder about the extent to which I’ve effected this place in the brief time I’ve visited so far: I’ve scared frogs toward the water, and I disturbed a snake that was either sunning itself or hunting for the frogs; perhaps, I ruined the snakes hunting efforts by scaring away the frogs? I hope that whatever negative effect I might have during my rambles are at least temporary.

   An eastern pewee, singing from the surrounding forest, adds a woodland feel to this lake. A yellow bird flies to a large patch of primrose that borders the path on the side opposite the lake. It’s the American goldfinch that the passerby mentioned to me. It’s perched on the top of a primrose plant, eating something from it. I watch it hop from one plant to another before flying away. The yellow of the bird matches the yellow of the beautiful primrose blooms.

   After spending some time watching the primrose patch to see if the bird will return, I decide to explore the western (left) end of the lake. I leave the path and walk into the lake-side woods, passed mountain laurel, hobblebush, quite a bit of black birch, young oaks, beech, sheep laurel and red maple. I turn toward the water and carefully step onto a mat of sphagnum moss. The water is edged by rattlesnake grass, bugleweed, some small and very pretty and delicate, narrow-leaved arrowhead and rice-cut grass, with its finely barbed leaves. The narrow-leaved arrowhead is related to the more commonly seen broad-leaved arrowhead, the most visible difference being one of leaf size. On the lake’s surface, a few single inflated bladderworts with small, but attractive deep yellow flowers float on an inflated, pontoon-like base shaped like a plus sign.

“Plus sign” seems fairly descriptive, but seeing the shape makes me wonder more about it. I’ve read that this shape is also known as a concave dodecagon, but that seems to be a more general term for a number of shapes. So, I’ll stick with “plus sign.”

   Rejoining the path, I see huckleberry, some tall, to six feet, still in bloom, yellow panicled hawkweed, Indian tobacco with its blue flowers, mugwort and ragwood. I approach the large stand of primrose; and, looking at it closely, I see several small whitish aphids on the buds. Though mostly a seed-eater, and primrose seeds being no doubt one of its staples, this goldfinch must have been eating these aphids from these plants; the primrose seeds don’t seem to have been developed yet. On the other hand, John Eastman in his valuable Field and Roadside (2003) mentions that goldfinch sometimes will tear open the base of the primrose bud to access nectar. 

   Someone on this same path mentions to me that he saw a great-blue heron here yesterday. That certainly would have been an appropriate sighting. There are certain species of flora and fauna that indicate a habitat – indicator species. But, this comes from a scientific understanding of any particular habitat. On the other hand, there are species that we feel belong in a place, that make a place feel emotionally in balance and some that we hope to see, but might not expect to see. A great blue heron at the grassy border of a lake would fulfill our expectation. An American bittern would also, but would add something more, it being less commonly seen. A deer peering from the brush opposite the pond or a beaver swimming near the shore would feel right as well. A moose up to its torso in the water, on the other hand, or an otter playing at the shore, though appropriate for this habitat, would, like the bittern, add more excitement or surprise to this lake.  

   Adjacent to the lake, the causeway, which was apparently raised a year ago, is bordered by the large stand of primrose on the opposite side, but also blue lettuce, daisy fleabane, chicory, smartweed, purple vervain, tick trefoil, boneset, black-eyed Susan and fox-tail grass, the sun making the bristles appear like a halo. Standing at the farther end of the lake, I look back over the length of it; the water in this wildflower-edged lake is very still so that the sky, clouds and surrounding trees are clearly reflected in it. It’s a perfect place.

   Echo Lake Road turns right here and leads back to Mountain Road, where there’s another parking area. I stay to the left and take High Meadow Trail. This rocky trail leads toward the summit. I enter a mixed forest of yellow birch, hemlock, red maple, white birch and common barberry. This blue-slashed trail leads beneath hickory, beech, striped maple, and passed jewelweed, wild lettuce, white wood aster, whorled aster, Christmas fern, New York fern, many of the fronds with a graceful backward arch and False Solomon’s seal. It becomes shaded and very attractive here. Indian pipe is well past its prime.

   I walk over a stone wall, without any opening; but, several rocks have been knocked down over time. White baneberry, hog peanut and plantain grow here along with more barberry. I see a big, old stump, lying across the path; the wood has been smoothed away where countless hiking shoes have crossed over it. How many pairs of shoes? I wish I knew when this tree fell to know the year when the first pair of shoes crossed it. Helleborine is nestled against the base of this prostrate tree just to the left of the path.  

   There are a few multi-trunked maples spread throughout this area, the slender multiple trunks indicating some disturbance. The barberry also hints that this section was open land in the recent past. And, just beyond where I see still more barberry, I notice a great-spangled fritillary landing about fifteen feet up, on the leaf of a tree. Each summer, I look forward to my first fritillary sighting. They arrive after tiger swallowtails and viceroys but well before red admirals. I’ll see one land on a wild flower, its wings fluttering actively as it moves from plant to plant; but, I’ve never seen one land high up in a tree and just rest there.

   I pass American ash and bramble before walking out to an open field, with apple trees and a pretty view of distant mountains.

This is apparently an old apple orchard, the trees spaced an appropriate distance apart. So, the land here was most likely open not long ago, perhaps from Echo Lake up to this orchard. The apples are about two inches diameter, and a green and red color. Biting into one, I find them tough, and they have little taste; but, as an historical curiosity, they’re quite delicious! Carolina crickets are jumping throughout this cut-over area, as if to protect this orchard from intruders. It’s bordered mostly by sumac and maples.

   I look up and see a broad-winged hawk gliding over the field, over me. Later in the season, thousands of these hawks will fly over Mt. Pack Monadnock in New Hampshire and over the summit of this mountain, while dozens of hawk counters watch them form kettles (a number of birds flying in the same flight pattern) as they ride the thermals, which are upward currents of warm air. On September 19, 1996, I witnessed 8,600 broad-winged hawks along with several other birds (bald eagles, American kestrels, turkey vultures, water pipits, etc.) flying over the summit of this mountain during the annual September hawk migration.

   “Mention of the ‘Broad-wing,’ wrote Massachusetts State Ornithologist, Edward Howe Forbush in Birds of Massachusetts, Volume II (1927), “brings up a mental picture of the warm umbrageous [shady] woods of June, bright with the white of the flowering dogwood or ablaze with the pink azalea, with the little Buteo, with showy black and white tail, flying easily about and perching near, uttering the while its complaining pe-dee”

   Forbush also mentioned that the broad-wing was one of the most common hawks in Worcester County, Massachusetts, “where in recent years [c. 1927] its numbers seem to have diminished with the destruction of the older woods….” It favored the large chestnut trees that were common in Worcester County as a nesting site, so, the destruction of these trees due to chestnut-blight, can also be blamed for a reduction in its numbers in the area of this mountain. 

    I take Bicentennial Trail back into the forest, where I see quite a bit of sweet cicely and the leaves of bloodroot. These bloodroot leaves hug the pretty white petals in early spring and then begin to expand and grow after those petals fall.

Sweet cicely is an interesting plant, that isn’t very commonly seen. There was a time when children would go to the woods in search of certain wildflowers with which they were well acquainted, not botanically, perhaps, but more intimately. Sometimes plant collectors would go to these children in order to find some plant they were searching for in the children’s’ neighborhood. It might even be said that these children knew more about some of these wildflowers than the botanists ever will. Unfortunately, there were other times when they knew less. According to Mabel Osgood Wright in Flowers and Ferns in Their Haunts (1901), children were “lured to the woods to dig its pungent root, dire mischief sometimes following, for its companion in moist, shady ground is often the deadly Poison Hemlock, the two plants being quite alike to unaccustomed eyes; and it is not until the flowers of Sweet cicely give place to the strongly Anise-flavored seeds that any one but a botanist can tamper with the roots in safety.” Hemlock doesn’t grow nearby in these woods, but I have seen, in Vermont, where these two plants were in fact companions. The “Anise-flavored seeds” are mature now and plentiful with several plants growing in this area. 

   This mixed forest consists of beech, oak and maple. Enchanter’s nightshade grows here, and I see a few plants of helleborine and the leaves of painted trillium. It’s a rich forest, which trillium like.

   Helleborine’s parallel-veined leaves are plush, but most of the blooms are passed their prime. Helleborine is the only introduced orchid to establish itself in North American soil. It’s a hardy-looking orchid, but its bloom possesses the same complex structure as our native orchids. The lowest buds of helleborine open first. It’s said to be a green flower tinged with madder, but it appears to me more violet-hued. The plant grows to twenty-seven inches, with plush heavily veined leaves clasped to the stout, downy stem. These leaves might be mistaken for those of hellebore, and its generic name, Epipactis, in fact, means Hellebore in Greek.

   The sepals, suggesting petals, are also veined and plush; they’re a quarter-inch long, pointed, and cover the “petals,” the bottom lip being a tiny, pointed cup, purple inside and filled with water. The yellowish upper lip is shaped like an insect’s head, with a maroon streak on each side. The entire top is yellowish. The sepals, which along with the lip, turn a pale pink, spread outward. The entire bloom looks like a fancy bowl or sac with a hinged top that is ready to close on whatever insect enters to ensure its pollination. The blooms are arranged amid smaller leaves along ten inches of the stem; each alternately positioned bloom is successively smaller to the top of the stem, and each droops from a stout pedicel.

   Helleborine was first discovered in North America in 1879, near Syracuse, New York. In 1905, Helena Leeming Jelliffe took from William H. Gibson’s notes that helleborine was “so rare in this country that it has been reported only from near Toronto in Ontario, and from Syracuse and Buffalo in New York.

   “It must always be remembered, however, when a flower is reported from very few places, that the writers of manuals take their localities only from reliable printed florae of states, or from herbarium specimens. Therefore, unless a botanist has noticed it, it cannot technically exist. Doubtless there are waste places of beauty the whole country over where the Helleborine may grow with no one to notice it save hunters or fisherman. That it is found near large cities means rather that botanists live in cities and journey on holidays a little way forth in the country with their botany boxes, and collect the nearest specimens, and not that it has a special tendency to haunt the homes of men.”

   In 1908, Asa Gray wrote in his “Manual” that helleborine was “probably introduced from Europe in early times on account of supposed medicinal value.” He listed it as rare and local, growing from Canada to Massachusetts, New York, and Pennsylvania. His extended range seems to prove Gibson’s point.

   In 1966, the New England Wildflower Society reported that helleborine was seen throughout New England; George H. Pride reported that he first saw it growing at Sturbridge, Massachusetts about 1945 (it was first introduced to Edward Hitchcock’s “Amherst Catalogue” of plants in Western Massachusetts in 1947. The first specimen in Massachusetts was collected, however, by the New England Botanical Club in 1902. It seemed to spread slowly throughout Massachusetts through the first half of 1900, but it seemed to spread more rapidly during the 1960s, perhaps due to the number of botanists looking for it.   

   Still, in the 1970s, it was considered rare in the eastern half of our area, and occasional in the western half. Over the next decade, it spread and was considered a weed, but what conditions caused that, I’m not sure. Today, I would consider it frequent throughout our area.

   White baneberry and blue cohosh also grow along the path. Blue cohosh is an interesting plant, though not showy when in bloom. I think the attractive compound leaves make this plant stand out for anyone willing to accept a plant on its best terms. The deep green, un-toothed leaflets are typically four-pointed and seem twice divided, a thumb-like appendage being attached at the base of the “main” leaflet. The dull-colored blue fruits, actually naked seeds, are rather large when compared with other blue berries we might find in a forest. These are turning blue now, though some are still a yellow-green color. Medicines from this cohosh were used by American Indians as a contraceptive and a way to ease the pain of childbirth.   

   White baneberry is a showier plant, both in bloom and when the fruit ripens. The fruit is a cluster of many white berries with a black dot at the end, suggesting to some long ago the nickname doll’s eyes. According to Mrs. William Starr Dana in How to Know the Wild Flowers (1902), these berries “look strikingly like the china eyes that small children occasionally manage to gouge from their dolls’ heads.” I see a baneberry with all the berries gone, most likely eaten.

   After spending some time inspecting these interesting wildflowers, I continue ahead and see bottlebrush grass, one of my favorite grasses. This path is rocky and steep and the bottlebrush grass grows just alongside it.

Indian tobacco and false nettle also grow along this rocky path, and near the top, where the path begins to level, is a sizable basswood tree, the alternate leaves large and toothed, about five inches wide. Striped maple grows nearby with a pretty stand of Solomon’s seal below, the numerous blue berries dangling beneath in a neat row. At the top of this level path are hickories with five leaflets and quarter-inch buds.

   The path crosses over a stone wall, and on the far side, wood ferns and blackberries line the path. Numerous hawthorns, none with fruit, but, each with two-inch long thorns, grow along the path as well, one growing to about fifteen feet. According to Rutherford Platt in American Trees (1952), “When men cleared the land and laid the axe to forest trees, hawthorn woke up and evolved so many new species even experts can’t keep track of them. Gray’s Manual lists 180 kinds. They invade pastures and are a pesky nuisance to the farmer, although picturesque to the artist.” This makes me wonder about the recent history of this area. It would seem that the land from the pond, upward, to the apple orchard, was most likely open in the recent past. Might the abundance of barberry in the woods beyond the orchard, the stone walls, the multiple-trunked maples and the abundance of these hawthorns here suggest that much of this mountainside was open land in the recent past as well (within past 100 years or so), perhaps right up to the summit?

   One tall hawthorn grows opposite a ten-foot tall chokecherry tree, with one red berry, the rest green or eaten. These chokecherry fruits have one seed. The leaves are toothed, taper to a point and gradually taper down the half-inch long petiole or stem. There are lots of little wort-like galls on a few of them. Young hickories grow alongside the path and hog peanut grows over other wildflowers, and over the black cherry and young black oaks.

   At Jack Frost Trail, I turn right, toward the summit. Beggar tick grows here, but isn’t in bloom yet. Hickory, black birch, oaks, hawthorns and striped maples grow in this mixed forest, with blue asters adorning the understory. The walk is level, but rocky here, with a dense understory. Soon, I approach an attractive shagbark hickory, one of my favorite trees, and striped maple grows here to about twenty feet tall. Ahead, a large blue-striped darner dragonfly darts past me. Otherwise, the birds are quiet in this forest at this time of the year.

   This section of the path is dominated by hawthorns, hickories and striped maples, with long-awned wood grass and asters, and, to a lesser extent, Virginia creeper, dominating the lower sections. I enter a hemlock grove where the surroundings darken. Whorled wood aster is beginning to bloom and Clintonia grows here, but is all passed bloom. As I step down into this hemlock woods, a red squirrel hops onto a rock and sits still as if watching me. I stop walking until he scurries off. I notice that the understory becomes open and bare, with only Clintonia patches on the ground, the berries formed, but many of them gone and many of the leaves pressed to the ground.

   A few plants of cucumber root grow here as well, with berries. One plant has five stems and four berries well above the leaf, but green yet. It’s nice to be able to walk through a forest and expect nothing, but allow the forest to present itself and all its parts. After seeing a couple outcrops covered with polypore fern, I ascend out from this darker hemlock woods to a mixed woods. Then, I take a left onto Mountain House Trail. The Link Trail is to the left.

   Witch hazel and more Clintonia grow in this open forest. Oak, birch and beech dominate here, with hickories and maples dropping out. The ascent from here is steep and rocky. Beggar tick grows along this path, and then I pass the main access road that leads to the summit. The trees become shorter here, even though this mountain is only 2,006 feet. Chokeberries with black fruit are abundant throughout here, each plant dense with berries that have five small seedlets. The path opens up with meadow wildflowers, including goldenrods and ferns, and small trees or shrubs, including American mountain ash, elderberry and bush honeysuckle.

   On my way to the summit, I pass a small man-made pond and I walk to concrete stairs opposite it and look out over the distant ranges. It’s not a very clear day today and the trees block much of the view. The best view is from the fire tower, but I choose to stay away since there are so many people walking up and down. Instead, I walk toward Harrington Trail on the opposite side of the fire tower, where I see a group of Ham Radio operators. Apparently, there’s a contest this weekend that they’re preparing for. One of the men told me that they talk with other Ham Radio operators on distant mountains, including Mount Graylock or Mount Washington.

   After listening for a bit, I mention that it sounds like they’re talking with someone in space. This prompted an explanation that I barely understood about sound waves and the nature of ham radios. I nodded my head and wished them good luck before connecting to the Harrington Trail, which would take me to the bottom, back to Westminster Road. This is a red-marked trail.

   Large blue-striped darner dragonflies dart about over an outcrop which is bordered by stunted oaks and several American Mountain ash trees, the cluster of berries turning orange. As I cross over the outcrop, I see a great-spangled fritillary fly by. I pass more chokeberries and then the path descends quickly, passed the access road before reentering the forest, where I see cow-wheat, witch hazel, whorled wood aster, spruce, striped maple and oaks. I come to a short cut-off with open views of windmills and a lake. It’s a pretty view, but I have mixed feelings about seeing modern windmills; it distracts me from the more natural (appropriate?) surroundings.

   I rejoin the trail, which is a steep, ledgy descent with the piercing sound of cicadas echoing throughout. The Link and Mid-State Trails connect to this trail, but I continue on Harrington. I cross a bridge over a dried brook. Hobblebush becomes denser nearer to these brooks; they seem to like water; then, they become sparser as I walk away from the brook. This is consistent throughout this mountainside. Black birch grows here. Simohena Trail cuts off to the right, but again, I continue on Harrington Trail. This is a mostly mixed forest, but hemlock darkens it, with an understory of striped maple and witch hazel. The ground is bare beneath the hemlocks, except for cucumber root and wintergreen.

   I approach another small bridge, about seven feet long, over another dried brook; again, witch hazel, hemlocks and hobblebush grow beside it. The hobblebush berries are turning red and some of them have been eaten. This is a pretty woodland path, well-marked and about six feet wide. A member of the prestigious Viburnum tribe, hobblebush has an attractive flat cluster of white blooms in early summer, similar to other viburnums and dogwoods. This time of the year, however, it comes into its own, presenting its unique personality. The flowers become clusters of bright red and sometimes deep purple berries, and the large rounded leaves, sometimes arranged in long and neat opposite rows turn crimson or purple. This plant received its name for its habit of looping its lower branches so as to trip an unwary passerby. Other less common names include witch-hobble and trip-toe for this reason. But, at this time of the year, only a very distracted rambler would fail to notice these conspicuously beautiful shrubs.

   As I continue, intermittent sunlight shines through as the hemlocks loosen their control over the canopy. I see Indian pipe, still white, but with the heads facing upward. Clintonia leaves grow here, along with beech, star flower, cucumber root, Canada mayflower and wild oats. Still another large stand of hobblebush grows at another brook. The Lower Link Trail leads off to the left before I cross another bridge; I continue on Harrington.

   A stand of mountain laurel lines another brook, along with hobblebush, striped maple and red maple. Then, I cross another wide, gravel road. Is this West Road or Administration Road? The path crosses this road and reenters the forest. Trailing arbutus shows up here with Clintonia leaves, some of them flattened, as is typical this time of the year. I also see wintergreen, cucumber root, partridgeberry, whorled aster, bracken fern, blueberry, haircap moss and hayscented fern. The upper leaves of cucumber root are beginning to stain crimson. Throughout this mountain, cucumber root is at all different stages, some berries still green, some blue, but most of the berries upright, above the leaves. Because of this crimson stain, it was once thought that these interesting wildflowers are cursed. Its botanical name, Medeola, was, in fact, named after the mythical sorceress Medea. I’ve read that the leaves turn red to contrast with the blue fruit, making them more conspicuous. But, it sure seems that the color magically bursts upward through the stem, into the fruit, some spilling onto the leaves.

   There’s a wide patch of trailing arbutus here; it grows with dewberry. I continually move in and out from hemlock groves, the woods becoming darker, with the intermittent light; it creates a nice contrast, varying the mood of my ramble.

   There’s a lot of cucumber root alongside the path, and mountain Laurel grows here. When I pass over West Road, I see a couple with a baby in a backpack carrier. It makes me smile, remembering when I used to carry my son through the woods in one of those.

   Returning to the woods, I see a nice patch of wood sorrel leaves, the blooms gone. These leaves are similar to the common clover we notice invading our lawns, but they’re larger and neater, a deeper green, and more a perfectly shaped shamrock. I pass over another bridge over a dried brook. Striped maple grows here also. I hear a bird call from somewhere in the deciduous woods: “chip-burr – chip-burr…..” It’s the call of the scarlet tanager. I spend some time looking for it, but for a tropically-colored bird – a deep scarlet and black – it’s often hard to find.   

   I give up on the tanager and pass sarsaparilla, New York fern, cinnamon fern, goldthread, with its seed pods out, bush honeysuckle and yellow birch. I see a couple small Indian pipes, white, still nodding, stunted, like dwarfs. Behind them, another few Indian pipes are full-sized and still in bloom.

   The Stage Coach Trail moves off to the left, but I continue on Harrington, over a stone wall. Beech burs are strewn throughout the path, most likely clipped off the branches by squirrels. Ahead, there’s a mushroom beside the path with a pink cap that bruises blue when broken or pressed. The stem is yellowish-maroon and bruises blue as well. I believe this is a Frost’s bolete, but not a great specimen of it, the cap often a shinier red. Admittedly, except for several mushrooms with the most obvious characteristics, I would never throw a mushroom sampler party for a group of friends based on my somewhat lazy identifications. I also see what I believe is a tawny milkcap mushroom. It’s an attractive mushroom, pinkish-orange in color and its gills leak a milk-like substance when touched. 

   Where the path turns left, a stone wall leaves it and moves diagonally away from it, into the woods, before the path returns to it. The trees are young here and the understory is fairly well open. The stone wall follows this trail before it cuts left and leaves it. This is a yellow triangle/red rectangle trail.

   This has been a level walk since West Road. A path to the left ascends to the windmills, but I continue straight. There are a lot of beech trees here, some with six to eight inch diameter trunks, but most are smaller. I see a downy woodpecker fly by, and where the path turns, I see a chipmunk sitting on a stone wall, chirping. Harrington Trail cuts off to the right, through a stone wall. A second stone wall runs perpendicular with it and off to the forest on the right side of the trail.

   A big, attractive stone wall lines this path, and, at an intersection of two stone walls, I see a large black oak, a few feet in diameter, no doubt a wolf tree. Juniper also grows here, helping complete a picture of this place as an open pasture, the juniper surviving unmolested because cows find it distasteful, and the wolf tree left there to grow and shade the cows during the hot summer months. A wolf tree supposedly gets its name because from a distance, sitting up on a hill, it resembles a lone wolf.

   Shinleaf grows along the path where I reenter the woods. At length, I step out from the woods to Westminster Road, near where I began this walk. Dickens Trail continues ahead, on the opposite side of Westminster Road, but I turn left onto Westminster to find my car. There are pretty stone walls with large oaks lining this road; I can imagine it as an old country road, back when it was maybe “The Road to Westminster.”

   A number of pretty wildflowers grow alongside this road, to the right, including panicled hawkweed, fox tail grass, smartweed, beggar-tick, aster, crab grass, goldenrod and ragweed. Ahead, I see a stand of hedge nettle, a very attractive, pink-purple wildflower, which is still in bloom. An open meadow appears off the road to the right, and through the trees, I can see a large stand of goldenrod. Just before I reach my car, apple trees and ash trees overhang the road. I move closer to the apple trees and see a plantain leaf with an attractive white Virginian tiger moth on it. These moths perch on leaves in the shape of a tent, instead of with their wings flat out like other moths. This moth is pure white with a small black spot and yellow and black stripes on its legs, like a pair of stockings. It’s also known as the yellow bear moth. Black cherry grows here also.

   A bit farther ahead, I see an old farm house, set back from the road. A large lawn stretches to the road along a driveway, and between the lawn and the road are sugar maples, willows, birches, and apple trees. I walk a bit of the way down the driveway for a closer look and see a yellow Sulphur butterfly fluttering across the yard. It’s a pretty country scene. Then, I notice, above the old house, the top of a modern windmill blade as it circles. It’s an interesting contrast, this pretty country scene in the foreground with a sign of modern times appearing beyond.

   Walking back to my car, I see an American copper butterfly amid buttercups. This is a beautiful mountain, an easy-to-moderate hike and filled with history, diverse habitats and some fascinating wild flowers.