<< Back 10/23/02 The Naturalist's Corner By Don Hendershot The fog and mist swirled around Kituwah. The turn row was grown over with weeds. On one side corn, stiff and brown, stood thick and close, on the other side gourds lay in piles and there was a basket of rutabagas. A brown shadow glided out of the fog, low over the field, and arced upward to alight in a dead tree next to the Tuckasegee River. From that vantage, the Cooper’s hawk kept an eye on the fields and brambles below it, on the lookout for unsuspecting goldfinches and sparrows foraging below. The turn row joined a more used, rutted dirt road that followed along side the “long man.” I followed this path. Pileated woodpeckers called and drummed from the foggy riverbank. Sparrows, wrens, chickadees and titmice foraged at the edge of the fields. I heard excited crows and could see the black rabble rousers rise above the corn stalks and dive again at their victim. At the end of the cornfield I could see the unfortunate target — a very harried, northern harrier. Bluebirds flitted in the air between the overgrown fields and riverside trees, tinkling as they went. The raucous crows were everywhere in the gray. I crossed a hay field to the railroad track, flushing eastern meadowlarks, and walked the track a little ways. A Wilson’s warbler and a Lincoln’s sparrow skulked in the thickets of multi-flora rose. House finches danced on the roof of an old tobacco shed where this year’s crop hung, drying. I hit the hayfield again and trekked to the edge of the beaver pond. It was nearly dry. I wondered if its custodian might have met with some unfortunate fate. A belted kingfisher chuckled constantly as it patrolled what was left of the pond. The brambles, sedge and rushes held song sparrows, swamp sparrows, Lincoln’s sparrows and palm warblers. There was a lot of water in the wide ditch the beaver dammed to create the pond and wood ducks were taking advantage of it. I flushed a Cooper’s hawk from the trees beside the ditch and, as I watched it take to the sky, other aerial acrobatics caught my eye. I turned to see a sharp-shinned giving chase to an immature red-shouldered hawk. Once again across another hayfield and back to the “long man,” where I saw my first white-throated sparrow of the season. The fog would come and go as I headed up the muddy turn row, past a hump in the field. The hump is what’s left of the heart of Kituwah. The mound is the site of a series of council houses. Nine thousand years of continuous human occupation has been documented at Kituwah. Nine thousand years, and the long man still wanders through and the earth still gives up corn and squash. Nine thousand years, and the sky still fills with hawks and the beaver still makes a home. Nine thousand years, and no strip mall, no golf course, no hotel. What will the next 9,000 years bring? (Don Hendershot can be reached at don@smokymountainnews.com)