Fisher

Nope, not the people who, with hook and line or net, seek to catch those aquatic creatures with fins and gills. The fisher in this case is the medium-sized mammal that inhabits woodlands across Canada and the northern states and south in the Rocky Mountains of the west.

This is the fisher that many people call “fisher cat” – let’s get one thing straight, FISHERS ARE NOT CATS! And therefore shouldn’t be called “fisher cats”.

Fishers are medium-sized weasels, bigger than a mink and smaller than a river otter. Male fishers are significantly larger than females, sometimes twice as large. Fishers weigh between four and 16 pounds and are 30-40 inches in length, including their long tails.

Although they’re primarily carnivores, feeding on squirrels, chipmunks, mice, voles, porcupines, rabbits and carrion, they also eat large quantities of fruit, including black cherries, apples, blackberries and blueberries. Some people are under the mistaken impression that fishers kill deer; although they may occasionally take a newborn fawn, fishers are far too small to kill deer that are more than a few weeks old. Fishers are one of the few predators that regularly kill porcupines, one of which can feed a fisher for four weeks.

Fishers spend most daylight hours in a den in a hollow tree or among rocks, emerging to hunt at twilight or at night. Females give birth in March or April in a den that is usually high (20’-30’) in a hollow tree. The young are weaned at four months and disperse in late fall to live on their own.

Extensive forested areas of large trees are preferred habitat although one of my camera traps in farm country has repeatedly captured videos of fishers. 

 

 

Fishers were extirpated from Pennsylvania around 1900 but were reintroduced in the 1990s – they are now found throughout the forested portions of the state. I’m glad to say that I was present at some of the first releases of those reintroduced fishers.

First Snow

Although there were some snow flurries in early November and a dusting a week or so later, the first time we had what most of us would call a real snowfall was in the pre-dawn darkness a few days before Thanksgiving. It still wasn’t much, with only about an inch and a half of heavy, wet white stuff on the ground. Still, it was enough to prompt a neighbor to clear his driveway – despite the forecast of 45°F late in the afternoon.

There will be plenty of chances to wield shovel and snowblower in the coming weeks so I headed to the Big Woods to enjoy what might best be called a winter wonderland – in spite of the fact that it was still fall.

During the short drive to my usual parking place the trees on surrounding hillsides were coated with snow –

From there I walked an old road into the forest –

That old road passes a line of sugar maples that, over 100 years ago, shaded a one-room school where the local children received their education. The building is long gone, but the sugar maples remain –

Further along, the road swings close to the stream that drains the valley; the rocks in the stream had a topping of new fallen snow –

From there I left the road and walked into the forest –

Where the few leaves still hanging from maple twigs also bore a layer of snow –

Small American beech hold their leaves long into the winter and bear a heavy burden whenever a wet, sticky snow falls –

Speaking of beech, a contorted beech sapling provided a change of view from the otherwise straight trees –

Back along the stream I went, enjoying the sound of the flowing water and the snow covered logs and rocks –

Time to head for home, passing a picturesque small hemlock –

And an American hornbeam along the way –

Yes, by late afternoon almost all the snow had melted and the next day there was none.

Good-bye Trudi

Dogs are only in our lives for a short time, 

but they stay in our memories for as long as we live.

Trudi died last week and she’ll be greatly missed. Our son and his family adopted her after she had been returned to their local shelter, they loved her and she loved them in return – she especially loved our son and he reciprocated. Trudi also loved the rest of her extended adoptive family and we felt the same toward her.

Trudi was featured in this post a couple of years ago. About that time she was diagnosed with a tumor on her pancreas which hadn’t impacted her significantly until the last few months.

She always enjoyed a good walk even as her condition worsened; she took her last "I'm happy to be out here" walk just two days before she died.

Now she’s gone and many a tear has been shed, but she’s left us all with wonderful memories –

 

 

Trudi was a great dog, we were privileged to have had her in our lives – Good-bye Trudi.