Spring Ephemerals

In the northern hardwood forest, trout lily begins to bloom almost before the last snow melts in the deepest stands of fir or cedar. All winter, the root has slowly grown deeper into the earth; before the snow has melted, the shoot has begun to push through last autumn’s duff. The mottled, red and green leaves emerge all at once, seemingly overnight, to blanket the forest floor. Another day or two, and their drooping flowers unfurl to entice the early, forest pollinators. For a week, in the sun beneath the bare trees, they adorn the forest in yellow. And then they vanish before the spring has ended, withdrawn beneath the earth until the next awakening.

Two trout lilies begin to bloom on the forest floor. Their drooping yellow flowers rise above red and green mottled, lance-shaped leaves.
Trout Lilies
Trout Lily

Although they form an almost insignificant part of the biomass of the forest, trout lilies — in fact, all of the ephemeral spring flowers — have evolved to play an important recycling role in the ecosystem. In the early days of spring, these fragile wildflowers capture much of the precious nitrogen and phosphorous that would otherwise leach away into the earth with the snowmelt and spring rains. They bind the vital nutrients into their tissues for a few, critical weeks. Then, when the ubiquitous fungi have spread their hyphal nets through the forest litter, and when the trees have again sent their fine roots growing and scavenging through the shallow, organic soil, the decomposing trout lilies release what they have conserved.

A painted trillium on the forest floor.
Painted Trillium in the South March Highlands

Ottawa offers many wonderful places to observe spring wildflowers. I recommend the older, hardwood forests on Canadian shield, like the South March Highlands Conservation Forest or the Crazy Horse Trail in the Carp Hills. Pink Lake, in Gatineau Park, offers one of the most varied and beautiful displays. As the trail circling the lake climbs from the low, rich shoreline to lichen-encrusted bedrock, it passes through a range of micr0-habitats and soils. Each unique combination of light, moisture, and nutrients supports its own flora. Early saxifrage, my favourite spring flower, grows on the cliffs along the east side of the lake. Proof that, “life finds a way” (to quote Malcolm from Jurassic Park), it roots in cracks and crevices with only a dusting of soil to support it. According to the Canadian Encyclopedia, the name itself, saxifragus, means “stonebreaking”. It embodies for me the resilience and tenacity of life, especially after the long winter.

An early saxifrage blooms in a cluster of white flowers, emerging from a rosette of leaves clinging to a crevice in bare rock.
Early Saxifrage at Pink Lake
A red trillium at Pink Lake.
A Red Trillium at Pink Lake
Wild ginger growing at pink lake
Wild Ginger at Pink Lake
The yellow bloom of large flowered bellwort droops from its limp leaves.
Large Flowered Bellwort at Pink Lake

Spring ephemerals remind me that every trial — every long winter, every dark night, every storm, every spiritual drought — comes to an end. On some afternoon, we will feel the sun on our faces and catch the moist, redolence of life emerging from the earth. The scent will rise in our chests and head. Our eyes will see a little more clearly. Our steps will feel a little more light.

Dawn in the Carp Hills

I revisit the Carp Hills several times each year.  Spring, of course, when the white-throated sparrows sing, the morning dew beads on the spider webs, and the snakes and turtles come out to bask.  Summer for the scent of pines.  And autumn for the colours.

Dawn comes in pinks and blues at Lovers Pond in the Carp Hills.
Dawn at Lovers Pond, Carp Hills

I turned out early this morning, driving west across Ottawa with the sky paling slowly behind me.  A short hike across the barrens took me to Lovers Pond, where I sat on grey gneiss and watched the sun rise peach and turquoise behind the pines.

Dawn colours reflect in the still water of Lovers Pond in the Carp Hills.
Dawn Reflections, Carp Hills

Sunrise touches the autumn trees along the Lovers Pond.
Lovers Pond at Sunrise, Carp Hills

A red maple glows in the morning sun.
Red Maple, Carp Hills

Morning sunlight catches on a young staghorn sumac.
Young Staghorn Sumac, Carp Hills

On the return home, I stopped at the Carp River restoration area, where I watched a northern harrier hunting over the marsh, and added a Hudsonian Godwit to my life list.

A cluster of milkweek seeds clings to an open seed pod.
Milkweed, Carp River Restoration Area

An Hudsonian godwit feeds in a muddy pond in the Carp River Restoration Area.
Hudsonian Godwit, Carp River Restoration Area

Hiking the Crazy Horse Trail

With a clear, blue sky, the autumn foliage at its peak, and rain forecast for the next few days, I decided to check out the work of the Friends of the Carp Hills on the Crazy Horse Trail.  Parking my car at the trailhead on March Road, where it intersects Huntmar Drive, I tucked my pants into my socks (tick prevention) and strolled into the forest.  The trees closed around me, and the sounds of traffic gradually faded.

The Precambrian bedrock of the Carp Hills rises from the clay-covered limestone of Ottawa’s west end.  Historically, the thin soils and rock barrens resisted settlement, leaving the hills as one of Ottawa’s most beautiful natural areas.  The City of Ottawa already owns and protects large portions of the Hills.  Other landowners have protected additional areas through voluntary conservation easements.  At the heart of these efforts, the Friends of the Carp Hills have committed themselves to seeing the area preserved for the enjoyment of current and future generations.

A narrow boardwalk crosses a swampy section of the Crazy Horse Trail.
Crazy Horse Trail Boardwalk

Under the guidance of their Trail Foreman, Bernard, the Friends of the Carp Hills have created an 8 km long hiking trail on City-owned property.  Much of the trail follows an informal network of cross-country ski trails.  With the help of City staff from the Parks and Natural Systems branches, the Friends have blazed a route that visits shady forests, sunny glades, and luscious wetlands.  While avoiding the most delicate and sensitive features, the trail winds past maples and pines, crosses beaver dams, and curls around boulders.  Short spur trails lead to lookouts over wetlands and lichen-encrusted rock barrens.  Where a short bridge spans a narrow watercourse, a rich fen lies to one side, gorgeously clad with sedges and other wetland plants.  Markers guide hikers along the way, and the Friends provide a map on their website.

A needle-covered hiking trail rises gently under a pine tree.
Crazy Horse Trail

Red and gold autumn foliage shines amid dark conifer trees on the far side a large beaverpond.
The Big Pond, Crazy Horse Trail

An open rock barren, encrusted with moss and lichens, stretches out from the edge of the trail.
Rock Barren, Crazy Horse Trail

A short bridge crosses a watercourse along the Crazy Horse Trail.
Bridge, Crazy Horse Trail

An open fen of sedges and herbs lies along the trail.
Rich Fen, Crazy Horse Trail

On this day, the woods seem quiet.  Here and there a downy woodpecker taps on a tree, a blue jay rustles in the underbrush, and small, foraging flocks of chickadees and tardy kinglets pass through the forest.  A few scarlet, autumn meadowhawks dart here and there over the barrens.  A red squirrel scurries across the trail, carrying a mushroom almost as large as itself.  A garter snake curls up in mock aggression as I pass.  A small flock of geese honk on the Big Pond.  Mostly, though, I wander alone along the trail, simply enjoying the beauty of the day.

A scarlet dragonfly rests on a dense bed of white lichen.
Autumn Meadowhawk

A fat, glossy garter snake curls defensively on a carpet of dried leaves.
Garter Snake, Crazy Horse Trail

Two small, grey mushrooms grow in a bed of moss.
Grayling, Crazy Horse Trail

Autumn foliage glows red and gold along the edge of the Big Pond.
Autumn Colours, Big Pond, Crazy Horse Trail

Red and gold trees reflect in a beaverpond.
Reflections, Crazy Horse Trail