Lawson meadows

wet-snow tracks and tiny treasures

The meadows near Lawson Creek are a favorite destination for a Parks and Rec hike or just for exploring. You can now get there from the snowmobilers’ parking lot on Blueberry Hill, up to the Treadwell Ditch, then south on the Ditch Trail and over the new bridge at Lawson Creek. The upstream loop of the old Ditch Trail is now cut off by the new bridge, but you can go partway up the valley on the old Ditch Trail after crossing the bridge or hop right up into a chain of meadows that stretches up the valley.

Or you can start on Crow Hill, go up the CBJ trail to the Ditch and then, instead of going left on the Ditch Trail to Gastineau Meadows, go right. Rather than using the Ditch Trail here, I prefer to go up the little slope into the first big meadow. From there, you just continue around the slope and head up Lawson Valley through the chain of meadows.

Eventually, you run out of meadows and the forest takes over. Parks and Rec usually turns around at that point, has lunch, and heads back down. On a recent excursion, our lunchtime ‘café’ was sheltered from the rain by some tall, dense conifers, and we looked out our ‘window’ at the last meadow.

The snow was heavy and wet, and the skiers in the group found it fast going, making it back to the cars in record time. The snowshoers took a good bit longer. On this wet day, the muskegs on the CBJ trail were overflowing the trail in some places, creating deep slush but no problems for our passage. (Right now, as I write, it is hard to even think about rain and wet, what with low temperatures and howling winds that lift the snow into swirling clouds hundreds of feet tall. The mountain peaks are invisible.)

There were deer tracks in the lower meadows. The deer were sinking in pretty deeply and probably found it hard to move from one relatively snow-free, forested area to another. In winter, deer find their food under the trees, where the snow pack is less than in the open. There were also several sets of snowshoe hare tracks, partially covered by a little recent snow. Best of all was a set of porcupine tracks, small and close together, showing where a young one, now independent of its mother, had wandered around snacking on shrubs.

Two other wintry walks yielded a couple of tiny treasures that I’ll share:

Before the rains, during an earlier the deep-freeze, I found lots of silken threads dangling from branches. The silks were probably left by juvenile spiders, which use these threads to become airborne on a passing breeze. That’s how they disperse away from their mothers to begin their independent lives. On that day, each silk was covered with layers of tiny crystals of hoarfrost, which sparkled like holiday tinsel—only better!

The second little treasure, at the edge of the Mendenhall wetlands, was short-lived. I heard an unusual bird song nearby and soon spotted a magpie under some alders. The bird was fossicking about, occasionally pecking at the ground, and singing a very soft, sweet, delightful little song, all to itself. It sang for several minutes, and gradually went out of sight and hearing in the alder thicket. The bird seemed happy; I certainly was!

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Snow!

a heron in the forest, a frozen feast, and raven excavations

The first halfway decent snowfall in mid November drew me out to look for animal tracks and anything else of interest. I went with a friend to the forested banks of the lower reaches of Eagle and Herbert rivers. Deer, both big and small, had wandered extensively throughout the area. Mink had a regular route along the top of one river bank. Porcupines had been out before the snow stopped falling, but squirrels left very fresh prints. Just as we were commenting on the lack of bird tracks, we happened upon some clear prints left by a heron strolling through the forest.

Then we heard a ruckus made by some squabbling ravens, over on a sandbar across the river. We approached quietly, with several trees (and the river) between us and the gang of ravens, but they spotted us immediately and took off. A number of magpies then moved in. The big attraction was the bony torso (spine and rib cage) of a deer, already well picked-over but still clearly worth serious attention. We settled down among the trees to watch.

We counted at least nine magpies; the precise number was not readily determined, because they were constantly flying to and fro: pecking and tugging briefly, then departing for a few minutes, and returning to grab another morsel. Were they caching these little bits of meat or just going off to eat each bit in peace? All those magpies seemed to be able to forage together without altercations (unlike the ravens); there apparently was room around and even inside the rib cage for them all.

A juvenile eagle arrived, briefly scattering the magpies, but they soon moved in again—on the side of the carcass away from the eagle. This was not very profitable feeding for the big bird, however, and it soon departed. Meanwhile, one or two ravens cruised by, or perched up in the spruces, occasionally hopping over the sand toward the bones but nervously taking off without feeding there again. Maybe nine magpies were too much for them, but I think they knew we were still there and did not like being watched.

A few days later, we had wonderful snow and lots of it. Spruces bore thick white blankets on drooping branches and alders bent almost to the ground under the heavy load. Rather than do the various tasks I was ‘supposed’ to do, I took off out the road to do a little exploring on snowshoes. ‘Twas the first time on ‘shoes this season, and it showed (sadly). Tracking was good, however: fresh deer trails, old otter slides leading from one patch of open water to another, not-so-old porcupine trails, deeper than the otters’ marks, a few squirrels, and a mink.

Two ravens were assiduously digging in the snow, in selected spots, tossing snow aside with their bills. Sometimes they dug down several inches, apparently getting very small, unidentifiable items. What could they be finding, and how did they know where to dig? I shared a few crumbs with them.

That lovely snow didn’t last, here near sea level. But I sure liked how it brightened up our short days!