B
bach2yoga
Guest
We just got back from VA where everything is in bloom. We were fortunate enough to find showy orchids in bloom behind our cabin. Mayapple and wild columbine were also in bloom.
We collected many fossils, and our family also found over 20 fossilized shark teeth. We also visited George Washington's birth place and Stratford Hall, Robert E Lee's home.
While at Stratford Hall, I noticed a familiar iridescence on the water in a marshy area, and a lot of bog iron stone. Not too far down the road was a historical marker for Bristol Iron Works.
We also found a map turtle and helped the most adorable raccoon get out of a dumpster. (No, I didn't touch him.) He was a baby, but a fat one! I got a close up shot of his face, about a foot away. Then I put a long branch into the dumpster and he used it to climb out.
I used the ride to catch up on my reading, Harshberger's "The Vegetation of the New Jersey Pine-Barrens", and Hufford's "Chaseworld: Foxhunting and Storytelling in New Jersey's Pine Barrens".
Us outsiders?
birders (birdwatchers)
herpers (reptile collectors)
bogtrotters (botanizer) I LOVE THAT ONE! so colorful!
This isn't from the book, but I learned this recently and loved it--know the triangle where route 563 and 679 meet on the way to Harrisville and Martha? Locallers used to call it "Martha's Crotch". :shock:
Here's one more excerpt that talks about Presidential Lakes:
Norman's brother Freeman recalled getting "fast" in one of their father's water-powered millwheels. The mill at Lower Mill burned down when Norman was four or five. Grapevines, pokeberries, and an old piling are the sole markers of the site. It is still indicated on the map at the shallow confluence of Greenwood Branch and Bispham's Mill Creek, flowing in from Upper Mill, which was first a sawmill, then a cranberry plantation, and is now Preseidential Lake Estates, one of dozens of lake communities in the region formed around old millponds and cranberry bogs. (Hufford, 19).
Here is an excerpt that I loved:
"I don't have no trouble findin' my church," said Jack Davis, a foxhunter from Browns Mills, "cause my church is--"
"right in the woods," laughed his wife Ann.
"pine trees--" Jack continued.
"chapel in the pines," Ann elaborated.
"lot of pines," said Jack " and got foxes and dogs."
"the choir," I suggested.
"Now didn't you enjoy that trip up to my church?" he asked (interview, November 21, 1980) (Hufford, 10).
Here's a bit of interesting info from the book...
Piney foxhunters don't generally hunt to capture and kill a fox, but rather for the sport of the chase. Rarely did they kill the fox. After letting the dogs loose, they would follow or figure ahead where they were going and follow on the back of the pickup. The thrill was the dogs, the chorus of cacophony they made, and the storytelling about the chase.
Piney foxhunters claim that red fox was imported in early colonial days for the hunt, and some naturalists agree. The Piney foxhunters also feel that the grey fox is a member of the cat family and the red fox is a member of the dog family based on the way they act and the fact that they won't interbreed. It seems that the track of a red fox is very dog like, and a grey fox is very cat like, with semi-retractile claws--the gray fox will climb tall telephone poles, and the red fox only a leaning tree. When you tire a red fox, he'll run into a hole, and he knows all of them. A gray fox, OTOH, will climb a tree when you tire him.
"Just as cats have smaller litters than dogs, so gray foxes are less prolific than red ones." They also base it on using litter boxes. They also claim that a cat will nurse a gray fox in a second." (130)
The red fox leads a straight chase--through fire trenches, across fields, across roads, etc. As the area has become more developed, the road crossing has become dangerous for the dogs, so the grey fox, with its circular chase, through heavy brush and briars, is the preferred chase.
If there's any question as to how the foxchasers felt about their hounds:
I only want a hound dog, not a sweetheart,
For sweethearts only make you blue.
Sweethearts make a promise, then they'll break it.
That's a thing a hound would never do.
~Joe Albert.
Renee
We collected many fossils, and our family also found over 20 fossilized shark teeth. We also visited George Washington's birth place and Stratford Hall, Robert E Lee's home.
While at Stratford Hall, I noticed a familiar iridescence on the water in a marshy area, and a lot of bog iron stone. Not too far down the road was a historical marker for Bristol Iron Works.
We also found a map turtle and helped the most adorable raccoon get out of a dumpster. (No, I didn't touch him.) He was a baby, but a fat one! I got a close up shot of his face, about a foot away. Then I put a long branch into the dumpster and he used it to climb out.
I used the ride to catch up on my reading, Harshberger's "The Vegetation of the New Jersey Pine-Barrens", and Hufford's "Chaseworld: Foxhunting and Storytelling in New Jersey's Pine Barrens".
Us outsiders?
birders (birdwatchers)
herpers (reptile collectors)
bogtrotters (botanizer) I LOVE THAT ONE! so colorful!
This isn't from the book, but I learned this recently and loved it--know the triangle where route 563 and 679 meet on the way to Harrisville and Martha? Locallers used to call it "Martha's Crotch". :shock:
Here's one more excerpt that talks about Presidential Lakes:
Norman's brother Freeman recalled getting "fast" in one of their father's water-powered millwheels. The mill at Lower Mill burned down when Norman was four or five. Grapevines, pokeberries, and an old piling are the sole markers of the site. It is still indicated on the map at the shallow confluence of Greenwood Branch and Bispham's Mill Creek, flowing in from Upper Mill, which was first a sawmill, then a cranberry plantation, and is now Preseidential Lake Estates, one of dozens of lake communities in the region formed around old millponds and cranberry bogs. (Hufford, 19).
Here is an excerpt that I loved:
"I don't have no trouble findin' my church," said Jack Davis, a foxhunter from Browns Mills, "cause my church is--"
"right in the woods," laughed his wife Ann.
"pine trees--" Jack continued.
"chapel in the pines," Ann elaborated.
"lot of pines," said Jack " and got foxes and dogs."
"the choir," I suggested.
"Now didn't you enjoy that trip up to my church?" he asked (interview, November 21, 1980) (Hufford, 10).
Here's a bit of interesting info from the book...
Piney foxhunters don't generally hunt to capture and kill a fox, but rather for the sport of the chase. Rarely did they kill the fox. After letting the dogs loose, they would follow or figure ahead where they were going and follow on the back of the pickup. The thrill was the dogs, the chorus of cacophony they made, and the storytelling about the chase.
Piney foxhunters claim that red fox was imported in early colonial days for the hunt, and some naturalists agree. The Piney foxhunters also feel that the grey fox is a member of the cat family and the red fox is a member of the dog family based on the way they act and the fact that they won't interbreed. It seems that the track of a red fox is very dog like, and a grey fox is very cat like, with semi-retractile claws--the gray fox will climb tall telephone poles, and the red fox only a leaning tree. When you tire a red fox, he'll run into a hole, and he knows all of them. A gray fox, OTOH, will climb a tree when you tire him.
"Just as cats have smaller litters than dogs, so gray foxes are less prolific than red ones." They also base it on using litter boxes. They also claim that a cat will nurse a gray fox in a second." (130)
The red fox leads a straight chase--through fire trenches, across fields, across roads, etc. As the area has become more developed, the road crossing has become dangerous for the dogs, so the grey fox, with its circular chase, through heavy brush and briars, is the preferred chase.
If there's any question as to how the foxchasers felt about their hounds:
I only want a hound dog, not a sweetheart,
For sweethearts only make you blue.
Sweethearts make a promise, then they'll break it.
That's a thing a hound would never do.
~Joe Albert.
Renee
