Assateague Island National Seashore- 9/07

After I got done with field training at New River Gorge National River, I headed North. Back to Boston and my life there that I'd been absent from for over 8 months. But I had to make a couple stops on the trip home. One was in Assateague.




Of course my plants all had to come with me. Here's Phoenix on the beach soaking in the fresh air and sunshine. He didn't seem to mind the mosquitos as much as I did.

I should tell you a little about Phoenix and how he got his name. He's actually Phoenix II, the first one succumbing to dehydration while I was at my little brother's wedding. But anyway, when I worked at Sequoia National Park I bought a package of Sequoia seed. I planted them all in a small pot. They were gorgeous little guys, I had about 15 of them.


I left Sequoia for the trek back to Alaska. One of the stops early in my journey was Lake Mead National Recreation Area. It was an ill-fated trip from the get-go. The plants were hot in the car so I set them around my campsite and laid my sleeping bag out next to them. When I woke in the morning, all of my dear Sequoias had been clear-cut by the mysterious, slavering fangs of some anonymous beast. I cried. Where could I get another package of Sequoia seeds? My dream of having a piece of that lovely forest I'd worked in all summer had died. My little piece of the Sierra... gone to feed some unknown belly. I vaguely hoped that whatever had decimated and murdered my young charges had a stomach ache.

But I kept the pot of dirt, hoping that some late germinator might yet appear. How great was my joy when green needles poked from the soil! It was Phoenix, rising from the ashes of his dead compatriots. He later died, as mentioned above. Luckily, Phoenix II is doing much better. He's a very well traveled tree, (the only one I know to have traveled the AlCan and Cassiar highways) having recently been to Georgia, West Virginia, and, as you can see from the photo, Assateague.

To prevent a repeat of the Lake Mead Disaster, all of my plants spent the weekend on the top of my truck, out of reach of ponies, elk, and deer. Not to mention rabbits, rats, mice, and other vegetarian or omnivorous creepy-crawlies.

Here's a likely chomper of houseplants now. The ponies were everywhere. They totally ignored people, and certainly didn't seem like wild animals. The citation for feeding them is $500, but I still saw apples strewn about near the road, leftover from a pony feeding frenzy. Perhaps if those thoughtless feeders of ponies had seen my friend (who did his field training at Assateague) shoot a horse that was hit by a car, they would think twice about enticing the horses near the road. Apparently, the horse had to be shot a couple times and it was quite traumatic for the visitors to witness. And of course, it's the Rangers who are blamed...





Here's a group waiting in line for the outhouse. Or at least that's what I thought when I saw them there. It was quite a line. They were actually hoping someone would come along and turn on the water faucet (the red thing in the photo). Eventually someone did. The horses mostly eat very salty vegetation so they require an amazing amount of fresh water. I'm not sure where they get it all.



To prevent the horse population from reproducing itself into starvation, the mares of Assateague are shot with contraceptive darts every year. Each mare is allowed to raise one baby to keep the genetic diversity high. On nearby Chincoteague the herds are owned by the Chinoteague volunteer fire department. They hold an auction every year to sell off excess horses.




Here's the sunset from my camp the first night. I enjoyed my stay at the National Seashore, but those salt marsh mosquitoes are the worst I have ever encountered. I don't remember Alaskan skeeters being able to bite through my pants or my shirt! Clothes were no obstacle to the ferocious Maryland beasties. The only respite I had was either sitting on the beach (where the wind kept them away) or riding my bike very fast all over the island. I did a lot of both.






There's more than just wild horses on Assateague Island. Here's a picture of a Sika deer. They're actually elk, not deer. They're tiny little things, smaller than white-tailed deer. They hail from Asia. The ones on the island are descendants of escapees from a Boy Scout petting zoo. Though small, they are managing to outcompete the larger native deer. I stopped to watch one while I was biking around. It started at me, gave a strange little chirp, and bounded away into the bushes, showing me it's large, white rump patch. The one in the picture could've card less about me.