Qajaqs

I thought I should return to the bog to see what changes had taken place in my absence.  It was a beautiful fall day, a little past peak foliage, but still beautiful.  The young geese had grown into adults and had joined the flock in the annual migration south.  Or, at least, they were pretending to fly south.  The silly geese were making an awful racket, flying in circles around the pond whenever the Great Blue Heron would frighten them.

The Pitcher plants were still there, but most had lost their vibrant colors, or turned red.  The flower stalks had dried and only a few were still standing.  The Sphagnum moss had also turned red in many places.

The beavers had been busy adding more mud to their lodges.

The only flowers left were found on the asters, still blooming in a few places.

There were many cranberry plants, but very few berries.  It was  a little late in the season, after a heavy frost, and many of the berries may have fallen off.

In places where the leaves had fallen off the trees, hidden treasures were revealed

The perimeter of the pond was showing its glory in a blaze of beautiful fall colors

In the following picture the bog is shown in the foreground

Along the shore again