On a frosty weekend in early January, I put my long-overdue replacement laces in my hiking boots and set out for some winter trail hiking. The temperature hovered a little above freezing, but, outfitted in Gore-Tex and Under Armour from head to toe, I felt comfortably cozy. I parked my vehicle at the Des Plaines River trail head at Kilbourne Road and headed northwards into the trees.
One of the first things I noticed upon entering the forest was how the shapes of the assorted trees and branches stood out to the eye without their seasonal foliage. One tree had some light-brown leaves clinging to it, but other than that, the forest from eye-level up was a curious maze of twisty branches. Craggly Oak trees intermingled with dark-green pines, and, despite the recent warm spell, patches of snow coated some tree limbs and parts of the forest floor. I followed the horseshoe tracks pressed into the crushed limestone trail, and marveled at the lime-green lichens growing on a nearby wooden fence.
As I scanned the treetops, I noticed birds' nests in varying shapes and sizes nestled high overhead. A little further on, tiny footprints tracked the snow near my feet, and a survey of the surrounding trees revealed an enormous squirrel nest about 20 feet up. Red shapes swooped and dipped low through the trees in front of me as I followed the path along a bend in the river, and I stopped to observe what turned out to be a group of male and female cardinals chirping and flitting amongst the branches. Some fallen trees criss-crossed the river, and one nearby revealed some large holes, carved out at some point by hungry woodpeckers.
Some bright colors in the growth caught my eye, and I marveled at the moss that covered the tree trunks in shades of green ranging from very light to very dark. The base of a nearby bridge was submerged, revealing how much the river had risen in concordance with the recently melted snow. I continued on, observing vines of varying thickness, some covering trees like veins, others hanging lazily from high branches. A broken tree to my left bearing black scorch marks looked to have been struck by lightning. Birds chirped overhead, and I walked on past a massive mound of roots attached to the base of a large, fallen timber.
Further up the trail, marshy areas to my left neighbored some bright-red thorn bushes. I instinctively looked up upon hearing some honking souds, and was treated to the sight of a large "V" of geese traveling overhead. Dark, round shapes strewn around the floor at my feet turned out to be large nuts and acorns fallen from nearby limbs. Vines twisted amongst each other in the surrounding tree tops, forming patterns not unlike sloppy spiderwebs. Bright poles standing out vividly from the adjacent growth turned out to be dead trees, beige-colored since being stripped of their bark.
Turning back, I began to notice the many holes high up in the surrounding trees, and I began to imagine how many animals must make their homes in them, high above and out of sight. Some footprints in the snow near the river bank appeared to be raccoon tracks, and as I leaned in to check them out I was amazed by the display of colors present on a cluster of fallen trees. Bright orange fungus and sky-blue lichens coating the bark of different trees stood out in bright contrast to the predominantly dark colors of the forest. Brown squirrels chattered in the trees above me, and I strolled on past pale-colored thickets of dead grass. As I reached the end of my hike, I felt refreshed by the clean air, and reflected on my re-affirmation that even in the dead of winter, the forest is still flourishing with life, sound, and color.
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One of the first things I noticed upon entering the forest was how the shapes of the assorted trees and branches stood out to the eye without their seasonal foliage. One tree had some light-brown leaves clinging to it, but other than that, the forest from eye-level up was a curious maze of twisty branches. Craggly Oak trees intermingled with dark-green pines, and, despite the recent warm spell, patches of snow coated some tree limbs and parts of the forest floor. I followed the horseshoe tracks pressed into the crushed limestone trail, and marveled at the lime-green lichens growing on a nearby wooden fence.
As I scanned the treetops, I noticed birds' nests in varying shapes and sizes nestled high overhead. A little further on, tiny footprints tracked the snow near my feet, and a survey of the surrounding trees revealed an enormous squirrel nest about 20 feet up. Red shapes swooped and dipped low through the trees in front of me as I followed the path along a bend in the river, and I stopped to observe what turned out to be a group of male and female cardinals chirping and flitting amongst the branches. Some fallen trees criss-crossed the river, and one nearby revealed some large holes, carved out at some point by hungry woodpeckers.
Some bright colors in the growth caught my eye, and I marveled at the moss that covered the tree trunks in shades of green ranging from very light to very dark. The base of a nearby bridge was submerged, revealing how much the river had risen in concordance with the recently melted snow. I continued on, observing vines of varying thickness, some covering trees like veins, others hanging lazily from high branches. A broken tree to my left bearing black scorch marks looked to have been struck by lightning. Birds chirped overhead, and I walked on past a massive mound of roots attached to the base of a large, fallen timber.
Further up the trail, marshy areas to my left neighbored some bright-red thorn bushes. I instinctively looked up upon hearing some honking souds, and was treated to the sight of a large "V" of geese traveling overhead. Dark, round shapes strewn around the floor at my feet turned out to be large nuts and acorns fallen from nearby limbs. Vines twisted amongst each other in the surrounding tree tops, forming patterns not unlike sloppy spiderwebs. Bright poles standing out vividly from the adjacent growth turned out to be dead trees, beige-colored since being stripped of their bark.
Turning back, I began to notice the many holes high up in the surrounding trees, and I began to imagine how many animals must make their homes in them, high above and out of sight. Some footprints in the snow near the river bank appeared to be raccoon tracks, and as I leaned in to check them out I was amazed by the display of colors present on a cluster of fallen trees. Bright orange fungus and sky-blue lichens coating the bark of different trees stood out in bright contrast to the predominantly dark colors of the forest. Brown squirrels chattered in the trees above me, and I strolled on past pale-colored thickets of dead grass. As I reached the end of my hike, I felt refreshed by the clean air, and reflected on my re-affirmation that even in the dead of winter, the forest is still flourishing with life, sound, and color.
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