This is a relatively young tree, by Live Oak (Quercus virginiana) standards, but it’s a treasured memory of my visit to the island. It’s located on the site of Middle Place Plantation, which was home to the Genesis Project.
This tree, known to most visitors to Ossabaw Island and not much beyond, is called the “Angel Oak”, for its shape, which mimics raised arms or wings. It can be presumed that it was damaged or deformed early in its growth, but from this damage came a beautiful living work of art.
I’m far from an expert on insects, so I can only guess as to the identification of this bee. The best I could come up with is Green-eyed Eastern Carpenter Bee (Xylocopa virginica). But beyond that, it gets complicated. I just think it’s a fascinating creature and wanted to share.
The Zebra Swallowtail (Eurytides marcellus) is one of Georgia’s most beautiful butterflies, easily distinguished from other swallowtails by its long greenish-white and black pattern, said to be reminiscent of a zebra. It also has notably longer tails than other swallowtails in Georgia. They can be found in numerous environments, and are occasionally even spotted in yards, but most commonly gather in overgrazed pastures and roadsides. This individual was photographed in August 2009 on Dickson Mill Pond Road, not far from the Ocmulgee River. Someone who knows plants better than I do may be able to confirm, but I believe it’s feeding on a Green Milkweed (Asclepias viridis). Swallowtails are known to have an affinity for a variety of milkweeds.
The Fever Tree (Pinckneya pubens) has many names, often just known as Pinckneya, but is also called Fever Bark, Georgia Bark, Georgia Fever Tree, Florida Quinine, and Poinsettia Tree. It’s a small short-lived shrub-like tree that grows in wet areas on the edges of swamps and is easily recognized by its pink poinsettia-like blooms. I found this one on Ten Mile Road near Coleman’s Pond.
Numerous sources state that Pinckneya bark was used by indigenous people for the treatment of fevers, hence the name fever tree. Until the proliferation of modern medicines in the mid-20th century, it was widely collected for its bitter bark, which has quinine-like qualities, and was used as an immunization against malaria and various fevers. Over time, wild stocks were reduced by collecting but I believe it has recovered somewhat. It’s still a bit difficult to find unless you know where to look.
Eastern Fox Squirrels (Sciurus niger) are the largest species of tree squirrel in North America and occur throughout much of the Eastern United States. By sight, they look about two to three times the size of the much more abundant Eastern Gray Squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis). I know some places where they’re almost sure to be seen from time to time, but overall, their habitat seems to be decreasing. In my experience, they’re most abundant in piney woods and sand ridges. Fox squirrels have numerous color variations, some of which have been grouped into subspecies. The nearly solid black ones are some of my favorites but I rarely see those.
I believe this one is known as a Sherman’s Fox Squirrel (Sciurus niger shermani). They’re quite energetic so I was lucky to get this shot. It was photographed in the vicinity of Big Creek Church Road. Endemic to northern Florida and southern Georgia, Sherman’s Fox Squirrels can weigh up to three pounds and are characterized by a black head and a white nose and ears, with other variations in coat and tail colors, including black, silver, and tan. The Florida State Parks department notes: “…much of the squirrel’s habitat has been lost to development and deforestation. Because of this, the squirrels are protected throughout Florida with law prohibiting the hunting and capturing of these creatures.” I’m not sure if this is the case in Georgia and found no prohibition on hunting them here.
The lower Atlamaha River is home to numerous Wildlife Management Areas (WMAs), and Long County is no exception, with Townsend, Morgan Lake, and Griffin Ridge. I spent a couple of days exploring the snowy landscape at Griffin Ridge, which I think is one of the most amazing hidden gems in the area.
Griffin Ridge is characterized by Atlantic coastal plain floodplain forests, oak hammocks, and river dunes. Scrubby would be a good word to describe it, especially the uplands. Palmettos are the dominant shrub of the under story and are often so thick as to be impenetrable.
The early settlers of Southeast Georgia, and specifically the Wiregrass Region, forged a living out of this wild landscape, and Griffin Ridge has always been wild. Within its boundaries today are landmarks once known (and sometimes still known) as Fountain Hole, Back Swamp, Griffin Lake, and Patterson Swamp.
This place is beautiful year round, especially if you grew up in Southern woods and wetlands like I did, but the snow transformed it into something otherworldly. As of this writing, much of the snow in town has melted, but there are still quite a few patches glowing through the trees at Griffin Ridge.
Lichen is abundant here but most was hidden by the snow.
Tupelo (Nyssa sylvatica), also known as Black Gum and Sour Gum, and Bald Cypress (Taxodium distichum) can be found in natural ponds and wet spots throughout Griffin Ridge.
As flat as this part of the world is, some might be surprised by the hilly terrain. The flow of the mighty Altamaha cuts into the surrounding earth and creates changes in the elevation. The very name of this place is an acknowledgement of the topography.
I’ve always liked this oak, which sits downhill from the road near the entrance.
This small creek near the eastern entrance was almost completely frozen. I didn’t test it to find out.
The bridge in the western section of Griffin Ridge is perhaps the property’s most recognizable man-made landmark. It crosses a particularly large wetland area that is usually not very inviting to anyone not wearing waders.
This cypress pond was transformed by a thin sheet of ice, and many of the trees were surrounded by a collar of snow.
Just uphill from the pond was an apiary. It’s near an off-limits hunting cabin that is also a Griffin Ridge landmark.
Since most of my visits are photography related, I usually avoid this WMA during deer season, and archery is all that’s still open. Nonetheless, I was surprised to encounter someone on Saturday. He was a hunter but on this trip was just admiring the snow with his grandchildren.
Most of the boundaries of Griffin Ridge are clearly marked, and some roads are open only to foot traffic. It’s easy to wander off course if you aren’t paying attention.
No one had been down this road on foot or by vehicle, and it was particularly nice.
On my drive out of the western section, I stopped at the bridge and wandered around the low wetlands that are normally too muddy to navigate.
I’ve photographed this tree, another favorite, many times, but it has never looked better than it did in the snow. I usually just shoot it from the bridge.
I took over 600 photographs during my two “snow trips” last week, so this is but a small representation of what I saw. I hope some of you will have the opportunity to visit on your own.
These cypress knees may have been my favorites.
Whether you know them as Spider Lilies or Hurricane Lilies, or any of their myriad other common names, these Asian natives are one of the sure signs of autumn in Georgia. [Linda Adams writes that an elderly friend in Schley County called them “surprise lilies”]. Technically known as Lycoris radiata, they made their way to America soon after the opening of Japan to the western world in 1854. Their intricate beauty and bright color ensured their popularity and they’ve been with us ever since.
I remember my thrill, and even more so my great-grandmother’s delight, when the spider lilies appeared every September, after the first heavy rains of the season.
Today, they often emerge in empty lots, indicating a house once stood on the property. I know how much they meant to my great-grandmother and imagine everyone else who planted them loved them just as much as we did.
There aren’t as many canopy roads as there used to be, so they are always a welcome surprise. They are loved for their shade and their beauty. The most famous in Georgia, in Thomas County, are lined with old oaks. It’s rarer to find them in other parts of the state, but if you know where to look, you can encounter them elsewhere. There are some on the coast, of course. This one was unmarked and led to an historic cemetery, which is how I found it when I photographed it in 2009. I hope it still looks like this.
Chances are, if you’re anywhere on Earth right now, you’ve heard something about the concurrent emergence of two broods (XIII and XIX) of periodical cicadas. Entomologists suggest their numbers will be in the trillions but not to worry, it’s not like a biblical plague of locusts. Cicadas are essentially harmless.
This year’s emergence is a rare event, on a scale that hasn’t happened since 1803, and it has inspired a lot of citizen science and non-stop media coverage. There’s an update about new sightings every day. I wasn’t thinking of the bugs when I planned a trip to northeast Georgia last weekend but there was no avoiding them. They were on the ground, on historic markers and graves, and on trees and telephone poles.
The Elbert County cicadas are part of the Great Southern Brood, which according to the National Museum of Natural History has a 13-year life cycle, though the adults only live a few weeks. Most of their lives are spent underground feeding on tree roots and sap. The great thing to me about this phenomenon was being able to see the nymphs emerging while also seeing adults. Fascinating.