Seen on the Trail

I was able to spend some time hiking on the Trail this weekend.  As I always say "any day on the Trail is better than a day in the office."  But yesterday was particularly nice.
 
Didn't see a lot of hikers.  Only two northbounders who could have been thru hikers (based only on the fact that they had large packs, and flew right past without stopping to chat).  And a few other northbounders who were out for the day or weekend.
 
What I did see included a set of luna moth wings, stacked neatly along the edge of the footpath.  Looked like someone was assembling a kit and had to run out to get more glue.  I guess what happened was that someone had snacked on the body parts and left the wings behind.
 
And I'm pretty sure I saw a bear.  I was bumping along the Trail when I heard some rustling and crackling in the leaves and undergrowth that usually signals a deer skittering off.  When I looked off in that direction I didn't see the usual tan rump and flouncy white tail, but a wider black rump.  Just for a second.  Then it was gone.
 
The chipmunks and oven bird I saw were much less eager to be gone.  One of each were using the foot path and didn't seem to mind the company I provided.  At least they didn't vanish immediately.  And, of course, there were shelter chipmunks, too.  One appeared when I crinkled open a Zip-loc bag of dried apricots.  Made me wonder whether it had gotten conditioned, like my cats have been, to associate container sounds with food.  Well, this particular critter was disappointed in that department.
 
Also saw a tree that my wife and I have identified as a witch hazel which caught my eye as interesting because it seemed to me to have herbicidal properties.  What I mean is that while there was luxuriant growth of some kind of fern and of Japanese stilt grass along the Trail in that area, suddenly under this tree there was nothing for as wide as the branches spread.  The look of things, anyway, seemed to suggest that the tree was keeping the undergrowth in check.  Well, I thought it was interesting.
 
Let's see . . . lots of different kinds of mushrooms.  I don't know one from the other, but there was quite a variety where I was hiking.  I should just decide to slow down and take photographs of them, bring the pictures home, and look the things up in a field guide.  (Or, would it not be a "field guide" if I use it at home instead of out in the field?)  If I took the guide out to the field to TRY to identify mushrooms, I might get trampled on my one of those speedy through hikers I mentioned earlier.
 
All of which brings me to my personal pet peeve about what I read in shelter registers and trail journals.  I wish there was more commentary on flora, fauna, topography, geology, and weather.  And pretty much anything else other than when and where the next party would be in the next trail town.
 
I suppose I'm too much of an introvert to relate so much to continuous chatter about the social life on the Trail.  Or maybe the hiking introverts don't write much in the registers.  Or stay in shelters and trail town hostels.
 
Sure, most [through] hikers don't actually know the names of the plants and critters they pass (I haven't a clue about the mushrooms, for example), but how about remarking "Hey, wasn't that bunch of yellow flowers neat?" or "Did anyone else notice those blue butterflies up on top of X mountain?"  Something like that would make me feel more in touch with the Trail than "Meet you in town for a brew and a couple zero days!!"
 
Or maybe I'm an elitist.
 
Or old.  One of hikers I met this weekend was a guy maybe a little younger than me who was out with a friend and their two sons.  The sons looked to be high school seniors or so.  After telling me that I was "keeping a good pace" -- since I had met them going one direction, rested-ate-read at a shelter for about an hour, and then caught up with and passed them now going the same direction they were -- he asked me how old I was.  Nobody's ever asked me that on the Trail before.  I think he was hoping I was really in my 20's despite my grey-ish beard, and not any older than he was.