Musings on a Winter Walk Nancy Chase
If you call Upper St. Clair “home,” but you haven’t walked the Boyce Mayview Park trails yet, I say, “What a pity!” Take two hours, maybe four, and explore the trails. They are truly treasures in your own backyard. Will your walk be like a visit to wildlife at the edge of a West Indies forest? Will your walk be like peering off the rim of an Arctic snow ridge? Or will you imagine yourself at the edge of the Grand Canyon as you hike along a narrow path casting a glance at Chartiers Creek below? Your walk can be all of these, or none. Your mind’s eye chooses its focus. One day, I decided I was overdue for a hike on the trails. I started my walk at the Regional Educational Environmental Center (REEC) parking lot and walked up a slight grade toward the grassy meadow and toward Beech Valley Trail. A 55 degree, breezy day is an excellent excuse to get out of the house. I planned to be out for the duration of an epic movie and knew I would be equally entertained. The grass was wet with morning dew. Tall wheat grasses clicked and rattled in the breeze. A flock of crows cawed intermittently in the distance. The sky was delicious; clouds swirled like cake batter stuck to the sides of a giant blue bowl. I checked my backpack for my lunch and walked toward the trail. The late Gilda Radner from Saturday Night Live often repeated, “It’s always something.” This is true of walks as well—in a good way—something special always happens. This day was no exception, but I’ll share my “special happening” after a few words about the land. The Land Before I entered the woody Beech Valley Trail, I turned my head for a glimpse of a cheery red cardinal in the undergrowth of briers. This bird reminded me to watch closely the scenes and to walk all paths, whether rutted or smooth, with optimistic anticipation. The trail was dry, which surprised me. We had had a brief rain three days earlier and heavy dew in the morning, but my first guess was that the canopy of trees, even if the limbs are bare, shelters the ground somewhat and certainly the fallen leaves help to keep the trail dry. Upon closer observation, I saw that thin shadows of tree
Little Falls Trail rises quickly for a short distance as you leave the lower Boyce Road parking area, then levels to immerse you among the trees. The winding trail gives you a view of the valley and falls from many vantage points prior to opening upon the hidden pond. A left on Hidden Pond Trail easily returns you to Bird Meadow Drive and the parking area. 22
UPPER ST. CLAIR TODAY
Winter 2009
trunks formed slats across the trail. The eastern exposure to mid-morning and early afternoon sun quickly dries dew or rainfall on this part of the trail. Also, the mindful construction of the trails in a series of small hills and valleys allows for rain runoff. I haven’t been on many muddy hikes here at Boyce Mayview, a testament to well laid trails. At this point, I looked for the Carolina wren I saw the first time I participated in REEC’s Family Bird Walk. No wren this day, though. A quarter of a mile from the start of the trail, I saw what I thought were two bluebirds in the trees. I often wish I had the vision of a crow or hawk, but that’s what my trusty binoculars do for me—if I would only remember to use them. Wouldn’t bluebirds fly south this time of year (November) and leave the northeastern snowstorms behind? I check my bird book to see that most eastern bluebirds stay in their area of habitat, regardless of the weather or season. Some say certain migratory birds are becoming permanent residents of the north because of the warmer winters. Even Annie Dillard, writing in the 1980s, states in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek that birds migrate for food, not for warmth. With generous feeding stations, birds will stay farther north and not migrate south. Sibley’s Birding Basics emphasizes using clues such as habitats, behaviors, and sounds to identify birds rather than only by sight and color. Nevertheless, I always want a closer view. Then again, isn’t using clues to know the unknown of nature an essential part of its fascination? Beech Valley Trail slopes steeply down toward the valley, and as I walk on I realize that each time I’m on the trail it appears new. I think this has to do, in part, to the changing seasons—each one allowing for a new experience. My preference is winter walks because they allow an expansive view. Winter is a walk along the naked truth—death up close and personal. The summer months are wild with weeds, briers, and vines growing almost before your eyes. You may not agree with me, but I’ll stick to my love of winter weather for walking the trails, where one can see the bare, skeletal outlines of the earth. I walked on until I came to Chartiers Creek. At the creek, I stop to listen. I hear the bubbling of the creek, the chickadees, a woodpecker, ducks, and, of course, crows. I see a path of grass off the trail near the creek, in a kind of shallow fiord or valley. It appeared to have been swept clean of the leaves by the wind. I take this path, which parallels the creek, vowing to walk more quietly and get a closer view of the ducks I see in the distance. The Happening I stop often along the grassy matted deer trail to think. The ducks are further downstream, drifting at the edge of the water. Here, I remember my binoculars hanging off my shoulder and use them to get a better view. Mallards. At two fallen trees, I stop