Farmscape Wonder Wander: 29 December 2021

The Big Woods of Columbia County

By Dylan

I recently visited a large unbroken forest in Austerlitz, NY. To me and many others, these forests are an inspiration, a break from the noise; they are some of the last big woods of Columbia County. Even renowned poet Mary Oliver wrote of the mystery of these “last unviolated mountains” of Austerlitz (final photo to learn more). Highlights from this walk were visiting a quiet Beaver pond that has no name and finding a massive Northern Red Oak that is used as a North American Porcupine den.

A large Northern Red Oak in Austerlitz dwarfs my hiking partners. Aging trees from size alone is difficult. However, this tree is likely at least a couple hundred years old.

An opening at the base of the big oak tree was full of scat.

A closer look revealed that the inside of the oak is serving as a den for North American Porcupine. Their scat, which is often deposited at den entrances, is cashew-shaped, and we found some quills too.

We then came across a large beaver pond. Unlike some of the other ponds in the neighborhood that are smaller than this one, this pond has no name (according to historical and modern USGS topo maps). I like to call it “Foggy Pond”.

Along the pond’s shores were various shrubs, including one with red buds and bunches of dried fruit capsules. After doing some research at home, I discovered it is Maleberry (Lyonia ligustrina), a member of the blueberry family.

There are great old stories from Austerlitz’s big woods, of goldmining hermits, cave-dwelling counterfeiters, wandering Moose and other relics that found refuge in the last wild parts of Columbia County. One of these stories, a poem shared below, was written by Mary Oliver, who lived in Austerlitz for a short while during the 1950s.

Mountain Lion on East Hill Rd, Austerlitz, NY

By Mary Oliver

Once, years ago, I saw

the mountain cat. She stepped

from under a cloud

of birch trees and padded

along the edge of a field. When she saw

that I saw her, instantly

flames leaped

in her eyes, it was that

distasteful to her to be

seen. Her wide face

was a plate of gold,

her black lip

curled as though she had come

to a terrible place in the long movie, her shoulders

shook like water, her tail

swung at the grass

as she turned back under the trees,

just leaving me in time to guess

that she was not a cat at all

but a lean and perfect mystery

that perhaps I didn’t really see,

but simply understood belonged here

like all the other perfections

that still, occasionally, emerge

out of the last waterfalls, forests,

the last unviolated mountains, hurrying

day after day, year after year

through the cage of the world.