Part 21

Many decaying logs of yellow birch and pine stumps were scattered along the brook bed. They were covered with beautiful mosses and fungi. The shelf-like growth, known as Polypores, was abundant on these trees. There are several varieties of this group of fungi here. The larger kind often attains a diameter from six inches to three or four feet, in a semicircle, according to age. It is a hard, leathery or cork-like growth full of pores, the top of the shelf seeming like a slanting roof, grained and striated as it were, with colored slates of gray and brown. This fungus seeks no special species of decayed tree, as I find it clinging to several,—the yellow and white birch, and hemlock logs and stumps.

The underside of Polypores is of a soft ashes-of-roses hue when fresh, later becoming a dull gray-brown. If one looks sharply at the under surface, even with the naked eye, he will observe little pores no larger than pin-points. Under the magnifying-glass, these appear like giant honeycomb cells. Cutting through a section of the shelf, we find that these pores penetrate the heart of the shelf. In these little pore-like cells, the spores or seeds are borne, more hidden even than those of the Fern Family.

The name Polypores originated from these minute pores. Puff-balls or toadstools spring up during a night in pastures or corners in rich wood. But the Polypores are slow in growth.

A beautiful species of the Polypores is worshipped by the natives in Guinea. I also have found and worshipped several specimens of great beauty. I discovered a very large shelf on a decaying hemlock stump in Rattlesnake Swamp, which I severed carefully with a woodsaw, removing enough of the stump to show its attachment to the tree.

As I passed through the glen to-day, I found many large and small specimens of this fungus, whose growth demands a humid atmosphere. The fact that decay does not take place rapidly save in a damp, warm wood, naturally proves that Polypores require such shades as these in which to develop.

Tall brakes rose luxuriantly four feet high or more. The atmosphere was heavy, and the sphagnum was steaming wherever the sunshine poured through the leaves upon it. A certain fragrance of the earth rose up from the swamp and met me everywhere,—a mingled perfume as of violets and Cypripediums. I explored about the pools to the left, finding many flowers in bloom.

Upon a miniature island in the centre of the pool grew the tall spikes of the Queen Moccasin-Flower, in bud. Turning to the south, under the hill among the rocks, is the fountain of the glen, which freshens the heart of the flowers beyond. Surely these are the haunts of thrushes, as well as the home of the queen of the orchids. The Golden Moccasin-Flowers peeped out from beneath the shades of ferns, and sprinkled the mellow glooms with jewels, like footsteps of sunshine left by the wood-nymphs of old.

The footprints of the woodman and the clips from his axe are yet unknown in this Glen of Comus. This is the sanctuary of the gods of old, and these the altars beneath the roofless temples, where man may worship still the deities of Nature. The wood-thrush’s song rings through these cathedral aisles:

“Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony.”

I crept quietly through all these winding halls, which I had never before explored. Near the northern portal of the glen stood a white birch, branchless, and mellow in decay, yet beautifully robed with delicate Butterfly Polypores of a velvety-purplish hue. Turning at the junction of the streams, I frightened up the oven-bird, the golden-crowned thrush. She moaned and fluttered away, as though in distress, dropping her wings and hiding among the ferns. I searched about for her nest, and soon found it low upon the ground. Her cottage door was open to the south, revealing five pinkish eggs mottled with purple. The nest was hooded,—thatched, as it were, like an Indian’s wigwam, with leaves, twigs, ferns, and mosses,—so like the ground itself that I nearly walked upon it.

We have five true thrushes of genus Turdus in the Atlantic Region—the Veery, Wood-Thrush, and Hermit-Thrush are found in this immediate region. They are our peerless woodland songsters, coming about May 1st, and often lingering until September 15th. The Veery winters in Central America, and flies as far north as Newfoundland to nest in summer. Like the Hermit-Thrush, it builds its nest on the ground. The Veery has a mysterious strain likened often to an Æolian harp; the Wood-Thrush rings like the chimes of vesper bells, and the Hermit-Thrush has the deepest note of all, rolling like “anthems clear” through the dim woods. Burroughs translates its song thus: “O spheral, spheral! O holy, holy!”

My delight was complete, since I had found two rare birds’ nests within an hour,—those of the melancholy songster and the screaming jay. Four days later I visited both of these nests to see the birdlings. The mother jay was not at home, so I did not distress her when I climbed up to peep at the homely babies. I passed on down to the deeper glen to the oven-bird’s wigwam. She too was absent. Five little bald heads and five wide-gaping mouths were revealed as I drew near the nest, bespeaking the necessity of a thrifty mother to search for food to satisfy their needs. I touched their little heads, then drew back and waited almost an hour for the return of the mother bird, hoping to see the feeding of the young. But she was either shy or belated, and did not appear.

THIRD SEASON

XIII

The Swamps and Hills of Mosholu and Lowerre, New York

Within the circuit of this plodding life, There enter moments of an azure hue.

THOREAU, Excursions.

This season, on May 15th, I began my explorations in the hills and swamps of Mosholu and Lowerre. The most conspicuous flowers about these woods are trillium, spring beauties (Claytonia Virginica), bird’s-foot violets, yellow violets, jack-in-the-pulpits, and pink azaleas. The swamps and slopes east of the Mosholu station are bright with these blossoms, which peep from the sod and shrub in their turn. In several places, also columbine, Dutchman’s-breeches and dog’s-tooth lily are abundant. During May these flowers, with the trees of snowy dogwood blossoms, fill the rolling hills and quiet valleys with delicate perfume and unrivaled glory.

Along the higher ridges, the brilliant Rock Pinks (Phlox subulata) bloom abundantly. Their mossy-mats creep over the hills from Bronx Park to Yonkers. They belong especially to the extreme southern part of the State of New York, and southward to Virginia and westward to Michigan. In these woods of Mosholu and Lowerre they flower immediately after the Dutchman’s-breeches have faded. I had believed that these pinks must grow as far north as West Rock and the rocky heights of the Giant at Mount Carmel, as well as about the ridges bordering Lake Saltonstall, near New Haven, Connecticut. I was, however, disappointed to find that their territory extended no farther north than the wilder woods of New York City.

I discovered many beautiful plants of the Prickly Pear, or Indian Fig (Opuntia Opuntia) of the Cactus Family. It was named for a town in Greece where it grew. This strange relic of the primeval wood blooms in June, producing a sulphurous-yellow flower of great beauty. The large, spatulate-lobed, juicy leaves are sap-green in color, bearing many thorn-like spines. The new leaves, or lobes, appear as joints along the edges of the parent leaf. The fruit is edible. This species is often cultivated. It belongs natively to the rocky shores of Nantucket, Rhode Island, and to Manhattan Island. It is not abundant in Bronx Wood, however. Isolated colonies of the plant live in New York City, along the mutton-backed granite rocks in vacant lots, west of St. Nicholas Avenue, and along Washington Heights.

Wild Garlic, of the Lily Family, is ever present about the hills of Bronx Valley and Spuyten Duyvil Creek.

“Like a drift of tardy snow, Tangled where the trees are low, Scented dogwood blossoms blow. Dainty petals spreading wide, Heart-shaped, lying side by side, Not a leaf the flowers to hide.”

MARY WILSON.]

The Bird’s-Foot Violet (Viola pedata) and the Round-Leaved Violet (Viola rotundifolia) seem to run riot on the Mosholu Hills, but it is not always easy to distinguish the species. A variety of Bird’s-Foot Violet that grows here appears like a small pansy, and is designated as Viola bicolor, producing two delicate, velvety hues of blue-purple. The plant derived its common name from the shape of the leaves, which are divided into five to eleven pointed lobes.

The early Greek name for Violets and Pansies was Ion. According to Emperor Constantine, it arose from Io, a nymph loved of Jupiter, Nicander wrote that the name Ion was given to Violets because the Nymphs first presented Jupiter with these flowers in the fields of Ionia. They were known to Virgil as Vaccinium, and later in Latin as Vittulæ, Violæ, and to-day they are classified as Viola. Species of these plants were designated by the early Greek apothecaries as “Herbes Bolbonac.” In the sixteenth century plants of this family grew wild among the corn-field stubbles of England, according to Dodoens and Lyte. They were known as Viola, Iacea, Herbe Clauellata, Pances, Love-in-Idleness, and Heart’s-Ease.

The Downy Yellow Violet (Viola pubescens), although not so common as blue violets in Bronx Woods, is abundant in special corners among the damp hillsides. Here, too, the Sweet White Violet (Viola blanda) dwells near the borders of streams. It is delicately fragrant, although not so sweet-scented as the Canada Violet (Viola Canadensis) growing northward as well as southward along mountainside streams. The perfume of the Canada Violet is much like that of the Small Yellow Moccasin-Flower.

Jack-in-the-Pulpit preaches from many rocky hills and hollows in Mosholu and Lowerre, where grow the largest plants I ever saw. They spring from bulbous turnip or onion-like roots, and are sometimes called Indian Turnips. These plants were known by Pliny in Christ’s day as “Dragons,” on account of the stalks, which are speckled like an adder’s skin. The ancients believed that the leaves of Dragonworts, carried in the clothing, would prevent stings of vipers. Others believed that the leaves, wrapped around cheese, would keep it from mouldering.

Matthiolus thus described the Skunk-Cabbage of this group, to which was attributed mythical properties, since it grew sparingly in northern Asia: “Great large leaves, folded and lapped one within another, with an upright stalke, at the top a floure like to a spikie-eare.”