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How to Care for Your Rat Tail Cactus: A Comprehensive Guide

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If your rat tail cactus is looking a little limp, don’t fret. While the rat tail cactus isn’t particularly hardy, this plant can, sometimes, recover from issues like cold weather and overwatering. We’ll be discussing how you can revive your rat tail cactus below, along with the basics of how to care for this fascinating […]

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The Allegheny Front Trail

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All smiles heading off on the Allegheny Front Trail

As part of my Pennsylvania Wilds Wander, I embarked on a third loop, Allegheny Front Trail (AFT). This approximately forty-mile trail winds through the southern portion of Moshannon State Forest and encircles Black Moshannon State Park. The Allegheny Front is a geological feature, a striking escarpment that travels from southern Pennsylvania into western Virginia and demarks the Ridge-and-Valley Appalachians and the Appalachian Plateau. I find it difficult to rate trails, for each trail offers its magic, but this loop definitely was one of my favorites on this journey and one that I will most certainly return to again. 

First vista traveling clockwise from Rattlesnake Pike (Route 504)

The trail started off with incredible vistas. I began at the eastern end of Rattlesnake Pike (Route 504) and headed clockwise (south). Almost instantly, I was rewarded with several views. From my perches, I peered into various hollows and the mountains beyond including Bald Eagle and Nittany valleys, Tussey Mountain which I walked for miles on the Mid State Trail, and Seven Mountains. The walking was tricky through here. I watched my steps carefully over wobbly rocks, especially with Amos on the scent. The scent of a porcupine I’d soon discover. Thankfully, we startled him as much as he startled us and after tumbling over himself, ol’ porky waddled and Amos waited till he was out of sight to start his howling and pulling. It is without a doubt in a coonhound’s nature to seek any moderately sized plump critter, even when covered in sharp spines.

Luminescent moss and autumn’s acorns

As we stumbled over rocks, cushiony moss softened our steps and cast a green glow through autumn’s multicolored woods. Maple and tupelo leaves bled red while those of birch and the great big leaves of tree-climbing grape vines shone yellow. When we descended to easier turf, we explored Black Moshannon’s bog, periodically walking carefully laid boardwalks and puncheons over the soggiest of spots.
Amos en route through the bog

At times the sun shone so bright that despite the marked change in temps – cool and crisp – we still sweat and squinted. Yet we found reprieve in the forested portions of the bog where rhododendrons, eastern hemlocks, and yellow birches thrived. I will warn, despite how lovely these boardwalks look, they are slip and slides in the moist woods, especially with an Amos at the helm. After landing flat on my back, I took to side stepping them. Good thing my very large pack provides an excellent landing pad.
Walking through a densely forested portion of the bog

Most nights we camped wherever we found a spot, which was remarkably easy on the Allegheny Front Trail. There were also countless established, although not official, campsites marked by a fire ring and a cleared patch. Really, I hadn’t known at all what to expect on this trail. I had a map that I’d acquired from the state forest, which showed creeks and elevation changes, but mileage was tough to estimate. There were no campsites marked, nor did I have those insights that a guidebook would typically provide like if a creek ran year-round or seasonally. Before I left for the trail, I scoured the internet and did find one helpful site: Allegheny Front Trail Backpacking Guide — Into the Backcountry (intothebackcountryguides.com). I marked down some significant points from this fella’s Caltopo map on my paper map and also tried my hand at All Trails, although I wouldn’t figure out how to really use this app till the end of the trail. You can infer my level of tech ability. To my surprise, the trail did prove to be well marked, sometimes with signage that provided mileage from one significant point to another. Although, knowing little about the Allegheny Front Trail and approaching it bare bones honestly only contributed to the journey – around every bend was a surprise – and enhanced my own sense of accomplishment at the end.
Camp on our third night along Black Moshannon Creek

On our second day, we walked golden forest through young black birches and more sassafras saplings than I have ever seen in one understory in my life. I cracked twigs periodically to breathe deep their fragrant candy-like aromas. Great vases of witch hazel would later appear in young oak woods, where I spied spidery yellow blossoms at eye level and listened to the sound of acorns plunking to the forest floor. Birds flitted to and fro and it seemed all the forest was alive despite the presence of fall. Wolf Rocks revealed small caves and sizable keyholes, and I wondered if we’d stumbled upon the home of Ol’ Porky’s relatives and close friends, evidenced by the piles of porcupine scat.

Witch hazel flower (Hamammelis virginiana)

Amos peering at Wolf Rocks, home to one of his favorite critters

                                                   

Piles of pellet-like porcupine scat
Along Six Mile Run, we dug into what I found to be the most challenging, yet also most beautiful part of this trail. A road bridge carried us across to the creek’s wooded banks where first we walked amidst a plantation of towering red pine and then through spacious shaded hemlock woods where it seemed everywhere we looked was a lovely campsite. By the next day, when we still walked along Six Mile Run, the trail transformed into tunnels of rhododendron. We wound up and down through leathery-leaved corridors, oftentimes to avoid dipping into the creek by which we walked so close. Rhodos crept in so close that I swooshed and ducked, and they snatched my sunglasses clean off my head! Although I wouldn’t realize until miles later when we emerged into blindingly bright sun. A minor loss on the AFT.
Red pine plantation (Pinus resinosa)

Trail along Six Mile Run

Morning fog along Six Mile Run and AFT

Rhododendron tunnel (Rhododendron sp.)

On this third day we crossed paths with what the locals call Red Mo’. Red Mo’, labeled Moshannon Creek on maps, due to mine contamination, runs orange. Tragically the creek supports little life and is not fit for consumption. It is a predominant waterway in the region, wide and fast-moving, decorated with boulders that look like easter eggs half dipped in orangey dye and framed with dense deep green rhodo forests. Still, in the abundant sun, the creek sparkled, and I mourned for this body of water that surely use to nourish a valley of people and animals and plant life. Amos couldn’t figure why I wouldn’t let him take a dip or drink.
Moshannon Creek aka Red Mo’

Neighboring creeks, like Tarks Run and Black Moshannon, ran clear. And after climbing from rhodo woods and walking grassy forest road through an understory of huckleberry, in the company of milkweed gone to seed, we descended once more, this time atop a carpet of wintergreen, to these vital waters. Campsites abounded, likely frequented by the substantial college student constituent in nearby State College (just thirty minutes away). Still, even on a weekend, we had a lovely camp all to ourselves, sheltered by the boughs of eastern hemlocks and nestled amidst rhodos. 

Black Moshannon Creek, altogether different from Moshannon Creek

Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) gone to seed. At this stage the seeds are still packed tightly within the pod, however when ripe, the then papery pod will crack open and cottony-tufted seeds will burst forth.

Our fourth and final day, we spent our first couple miles navigating a winding labyrinth of you guessed it, rhodo. However here these tough shrubs were carefully pruned so that we easily walked beneath their twining boughs. I felt as if we walked a passage from one realm to another, a secret tunnel of sorts. And when we finally emerged into hemlock woods, we found two sweet souls, Kat and Jeanie. These two women were out for an overnight and although we chatted for only twenty minutes, I felt as if I could have spent the afternoon with them. We talked trail – they had done numerous PA trails, some more than once – and plants – Kat had trained with a wise ol’ herbalist by the name of Evelyn Snook – and they even offered up their home as refuge from the storms that were said to roll in that evening. The trail is a unique place that way. A place where complete strangers can still meet and greet one another openly and without distraction, the only motive to share stories and connect. Perhaps because this is what all the natural world is doing in one way or another – sharing, communicating, adapting and striving together – that we, too, subconsciously tune into this way of being. We need more of this way of being, this sort of kinship, in our human-centered domain.
So many tiny waterfalls and wading pools on the last day, each turn in the rhodo labyrinth revealed another.
The rest of our last day we walked brilliant, sun-filled woods where oaks stood tall, showing off their still-green leaves. We wound up and down and over easy path and I reveled in a feeling of lightness, this strength and balance that my body, and clearly Amos’ too, had cultivated in the last few weeks. The sun warmed my skin, swift easy movement came naturally, and the scent of autumn was released in every step. All else fell away. This was now and this was all we needed. The day was good. Hiking, long-distance hiking, in particular, does that, for it can take awhile to slough the everyday mental clutter, the overstimulation, the ever-present awareness of time and responsibilities. But go outside, hike, be in that place through which your body moves, and it is revealed. We are graced with beauty, with nourishment, with what we need when we need it most ad infinitum. Just look around. Listen. Be still. Be wild.
Amos looking wildly happy!

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My Unforgettable Encounter with a Fevertree

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When someone asks you if you would like to see a wild fever tree, you have to say yes. As a denizen of cold climates defined by months of freezing temperatures, I will never miss an opportunity to encounter any species in its native habitat that cannot survive frosts. This was the scenario I found myself in last week as friend and habitat restoration specialist for the , , was showing us around a wonderful chunk of Florida scrubland he has been managing over the last few years.

He drove our small group over to an area that, up until a year or two ago, was completely choked with swamp titi (Cyrilla racemiflora). Like many habitats throughout southeastern North America, this patch of Florida scrub is dependent on regular fires to maintain ecological function. Without it, aggressive shrubs like titi completely take over, choking out much of the amazing biodiversity that makes this region unique. Jeff and his team have been very busy restoring fire to this ecosystem and the results have been impressive to say the least.

We walked off the two-track, down into a wet depression and were greeted by an impressive population of spoon-leaf sundews (Drosera intermedia), which is a good sign that water quality on the site is improving. After a few minutes of sundew admiration, Jeff motioned for us to look upward towards the surrounding tree line. That’s when we saw it. Growing up out of the small seep that was feeding this wet depression was a spindly tree with bright pink splotches decorating its canopy. This was to be my first encounter with a fevertree (Pinckneya bracteata).

A few of us were willing to get our feet wet and were rewarded with a close look at the growth habit of this incredible tree. Clustered at the end of its spindly branches are dark green, ovate leaves that give the tree a tropical appearance. Erupting from the middle of some of those leafy branches were the inflorescences. These are what produce the pink splotches I could see in the canopy of larger individuals. They remind me a lot of a poinsettia and at first, I thought this tree might be a member of the genus Euphorbia. Indeed, the pink coloration comes from a handful of rather large, leaf-like sepals attached to the base of each inflorescence.

Upon seeing the flowers, I instantly knew this was not a member of Euphorbiaceae. Each flower was long and tubular ending in five reflexed lobes. They are colorful structures in and of themselves, adorned with splashes of pink and yellow. After a bit of scrutiny, our group was finally able to place this within its true taxonomic lineage, the coffee family (Rubiaceae).

Within the coffee family, fevertree is closely related to the genus Cinchona. Like Cinchona, the fevertree produces quinine and other alkaloids that are effective in treating malaria. Fevertree has been used for millennia to do just that, hence the common name. It also seems fitting that fevertrees tend to grow in wetland habitats where mosquitos can be abundant. However, this is by no means an obligate wetland species. Those who have grown fevertree frequently succeed in establishing plants in dry, upland habitats as well. Perhaps highly disturbed wetlands are some of the few places where this spindly tree can avoid intense competition from other forms of vegetation.

Fevertrees do need regular disturbance to persist. They are not a large, robust tree by any means and can easily get outcompeted by more aggressive vegetation. However, this species does have a trick that enables individuals to persist when disturbances don’t come frequent enough. Fevertree is highly clonal. Instead of producing a single trunk, it sends out numerous stems in all directions in search of a gap in the canopy. This clonal habit allows it to eek out an existence in the gaps between its more robust neighbors until disturbances return and clear things out.

This clonal habit is also very important when it comes to reproduction. Fevertree requires a decent amount of sunlight to successfully flower and set seed. By using its clonal stems to find light gaps, it can at least guarantee some level of reproduction until fires, floods, or some other form of canopy clearing disturbance frees up enough space for it to prosper and its seeds to germinate. However, its clonal habit can also hurt its reproductive capacity over the long term if recruitment of new individuals does not occur.

Fevertree is considered self-incompatible. In other words, its flowers cannot be pollinated via pollen from a genetically identical individual. As more and more clonal shoots are produced, the tree effectively increases the chances that its own pollen will end up on its own flowers. This is yet another important reason why regular disturbance favors fevertree reproduction. Fevertree seeds need light and bare ground to germinate, which is usually provided as fires and other disturbances clear the canopy and open up bare ground. Only then can enough unrelated individuals establish to ensure plenty of successful pollination opportunities.

With its long, tubular flowers and bright pink sepals, fevertrees don’t seem to have any trouble attracting pollinators, which mainly consist of ruby-throated hummingbirds and bumblebees. Only these organisms have what it takes to successfully access the pollen and nectar rewards of this plant and travel the distances necessary to ensure pollen ends up on unrelated individuals. The seeds that result from pollination are winged and can travel a decent distance with a decent wind. With any luck, a few seeds will end up in another disturbance-cleared wet area and usher in the next generation of fevertrees.

I am so happy that restoration activities at this site are making more suitable habitat for this unique tree. Looking around, we saw many more small individuals starting to emerge where there was once a dense canopy of titi. Hopefully with ongoing management, this population will continue to grow and spread, securing the a future for this species in a region with an ever-growing human presence. If you ever find the opportunity to see one of these trees in person, do yourself a favor and take it!

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

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