November 16

Partly cloudy skies, mild temperatures and a gentle southerly breeze accompany me on a midmorning hike along the edge of Isabella County’s Salt Creek as it flows north through the village of Shepherd.  Back in the mid 1800’s, a village called “Salt River” sprang up here (stock photo) that included a grain mill and sawmill, with the river providing power. After the Civil War, veteran Isaac Shepherd expanded the village and renamed it after himself. However, present day names and locations of the Salt River are somewhat confusing. Current maps label this watercourse, “Salt Creek” while some refer to it as “Little Salt River”. These designations are not be confused with the northern and southern branches of the Salt River (Big Salt River) that converge into the main branch in the northern part of the county. Observing the flowing creek, I note willow leaves carried downstream have backed up due to a dam of tangled brush and leaves. Further ahead, the current speeds up as it flows through a narrow gap of downed trees. Making my way along the east bank, I spot the dried 1-inch seedpods of Wild Cucumber and a leafless Multiflora Rosebush displaying lots of bright red hips. Noticing that many large Ash trees have died and fallen into the creek, I come upon one of them that clearly shows how the Ash Borer larvae tunneled under the bark to girdle and kill it. As a patch of blue sky appears above the leafless canopy, I make my way around to the west bank where I pause to watch a Fox Squirrel scurry through the underbrush. Next, I come upon a Japanese Barberry bush with its red leaves and red fruit. Continuing to explore the surrounding flood plain, I look east through the dense underbrush to barely make out the rotating blades of one of many wind turbines that have been recently constructed in the county. From here, the creek flows northeast about 10 miles into Midland County where it empties into the Chippewa River. Turning around, I’m pleased to spot a few dark-colored birds flashing their white wing patches as they flutter through the underbrush and realize, as one perches close by, they are Dark-eyed Juncos. A sure sign of late Autumn, these birds migrate from the far north to spend their winter here in Michigan. Further along, I pause to watch a female Downey Woodpecker pecking away on a twig. Females do not have a red patch on the back of their heads like males have (stock photo). Back to the car, I head for home.

 

November’s leafless canopy-

bare branches, stratus gloom

view above the forest floor.

How I miss the dome of beauty,

splashed with scarlet and gold,

backlit with midday beams.

Low and behold the trail-

strewn with colors and designs 

is just as beautiful.

My feet welcome leafy aisles 

until early snows replace 

tapestries of autumn with 

blankets of purest white.

 

D. DeGraaf