Two weeks after our last adventure, Ithi and I continued our Kettle Moraine (mis)adventures for another long day of exploration that we would end with a picnic. Unlike our previous hike, which was hard to beat in terms of bird diversity, this outing proved to be much more limited by sheer species count — a fact that could likely be attributed both to its time later in the spring and also the less-than-perfect weather, which threatened rain for much of its duration. Nonetheless, it offered an array of scenic landscapes for us to relish, and despite conditions that weren't quite ideal, we were pleasantly surprised with several discoveries, and as always, enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

We began our adventure with a two-stop itinerary, planning to start by visiting the Stute Springs Nature Trail, historic homestead of the Stute family; after completing that short trail, we would head over to the Forest Headquarters and embark on the Stony Ridge Nature Trail, a mile-long trail that surrounds the main office and gives a flavor of the glacially-inspired topography of the region. As things often go, our plans took a slightly unexpected turn, although not for the worse.

We arrived at trailhead of the Stute Springs Nature Trail at about 10:30 in the morning, quite an early start for us late risers. Before we had even left the parking lot, we spied a few interesting critters.

We were promptly greeted by an electric, sizzling call from high up in a tree nearby. After a brief search, we were able to locate its maker: a male blue-winged warbler.

We began the short walk from the trailhead to the homestead, continuing to note flora and fauna of interest as we went.

Within a few minutes, we arrived at a mowed grassy expanse and saw some of the remnants of the Stute farm. Settled in the 1850s by German immigrants, all that remains of the 180-acre homestead today are a few of the outbuildings (some of them restored) and a portion of the farmhouse's stone walls; the rest farmhouse itself was taken down in 1996.

An interesting feature of the farm is its proximity to and use of the natural springs. The Stute family built a springhouse around some of the springs, which were likely an important factor in why the site was chosen for their settlement, in order to protect the water source and redirect it for use throughout the farm. One such use was in the milkhouse, which had a concrete tank into which the cold springwater was pumped, serving to refrigerate the milk stored inside.

After exploring the area and looking at the buildings around the homestead, we continued onward on the trail, which brought us into the woods. Unbeknownst to us, we were not on the path that we intended to be, and as the trail kept is course far longer than we felt that it should given what we were seeing on the map, we became increasingly confused. We pressed on, hoping that things would become clearer if we passed some sort of landmark.

As we walked, we saw an unofficial-looking detour from the main path leading down a steep hill. At the bottom — the edge of the forest — we heard trickling water, and Ithi, becoming excited, insisted that we make the climb down. Despite the treacherous shuffle, it was well worth it. Sitting on a conveniently placed little wooden platform with overhanging tree branches to shade us, we beheld a small stream overgrown with lush wildflowers leading off into a marsh. It was such a peaceful, beautiful spot that we almost wished we had lugged our cooler the whole way to just stop and eat there instead. We rested there for a few minutes before carrying on, still unsure of exactly where we were.

As we left, our attention was drawn to a loud buzzing sound nearby. It wasn't hard for us to locate its maker: a ruby-throated hummingbird, who began performing his U-shaped dance for an unseen audience, humming loudly as he did. When he finally perched I caught him in my camera's viewfinder, but he took off before I was able to manage a shot.

Pressing on, we continued to encounter noteworthy odds and ends of forest life.

As we continued on the trail, we reached a very low wooden barrier and some fallen logs across the path. The trail continued on beyond this, however. Unsure of whether or not this was the end of Stute Springs, we decided to press on. It wasn't until we found ourselves beside a wooden shelter that we realized where we were; we had somehow taken an unmarked connector path to the Ice Age National Scenic Trail, and were now at Shelter 2, not far from the Forest Headquarters.

The overlook from the shelter was rather nice. Stepping up to a wooden railing across from the structure, we overlooked a drop in the forest terrain that revealed a rolling floor of treetops for as far as the eye could see. We spent a few moments at this idyllic spot observing birds, insects and other creatures going about their business.

The shelter proved to be the vital landmark that we had desperately needed. Now that we had our bearings, we realized that we were actually very close to what we had planned for our next destination after finishing Stute Springs Nature Trail. We had originally intended to complete the Stute loop, return to the car and drive to the next trail, but after consulting our map we decided to continue along our current Ice Age offshoot trail and connect up with our next target: Stony Ridge Nature Trail, which encircles the Forest Headquarters building, and was only a mere quarter mile's hike from our current location.

After just a few minutes, we found ourselves in front of the familiar Forest Headquarters building, stopping for a few moments to eye the well-stocked bird feeders out front. The mile-long looping Stony Ridge winds right through them, and we picked up the path from there, beginning our clockwise circuit along the trail.

Almost immediately we began an ascent, gaining altitude with each footstep. It was quickly apparent that the route perfectly exemplifies the geographical characteristics that define the region; it showcased the dramatic changes in elevation resulting from its glacially-fueled formation, with deep kettles on either side of much of the raised pathway, the forest trailing down the whole way. Large boulders, at first seeming out of place in the forested space, were another nod to that history.

At some points on our walk, steep falls in the topography seemed to host abundant secrets below. A handful of ephemeral ponds were evident, tucked away into the terrain.

Although that first and most energetic burst of spring was largely past, we were beset on all sides nonetheless by wonders both animal and botanical. Overall the going was highly pleasant, but the suggestion of rain was in the air. The landscape changed as we walked, with little pockets of one habitat or another dominating the way as we went. At times the woods relinquished in favor of prairie for a short time before treecover reclaimed the path.

Suddenly the birds became hushed and an uncanny silence fell over the woods. The wind picked up and the whisper of the trees almost sounded like distant waves. That could only mean one thing: rain! And rain it did... and we were still parked at Stute Springs, perhaps a mile away! Having consulted the forecast prior to our outing, I had had the foresight to bring a small umbrella, but had forgotten how... comically inadequate it was. The rain had a very light start — barely more than a sprinkle — and given the conditions the umbrella was fortunately sufficient enough to protect my camera, but I wasn't able to unfurl it without giving Ithi a good laugh ("This is the umbrella you brought?").

I noted copious flowering bramble along this portion of the trail; there would be an abundance of blackberries in the weeks to come. We picked up our pace, but the rain was light enough to be moreso pleasant than inconvenient, and it lent a vibrant beauty to the greenery around us, bringing out color in the low light and filling the air with an earthy scent.

Despite the advent of the rain, we still managed to spy a few birds, although they had for the most part gone quiet as they began seeking shelter. For a moment I watched in excitement as an indigo bunting darted above us and onto a vantage point a safe distance away, watching us with curiosity. In the prairie vegetation to our left, little bursts of movement betrayed otherwise inconspicuous sparrows as they darted from perch to perch.

Suddenly, the rain began to pick up. Our pace followed suit; we were suddenly covering good ground now that I was not compelled to stop and take pictures of every single thing that caught my eye. We quickly connected once again with the Ice Age spur to the backpacking shelter, near the beginning of the Stony Ridge loop, and began the backtrack the return to Stute Springs. We made good time, both of us relatively dry still by the time we made it to the car.

Despite the rain, we still had intentions to picnic, our lunches awaiting us in a cooler in the trunk. We had planned to enjoy our meal at a sheltered picnic pavilion that we drove by often, but had never visited, and so, undeterred by the weather, we made the short drive to the small town of Palmyra. Within a few short minutes, we were unpacking our lunch along Lower Spring Lake at Lions Parks, protected from the elements by the structure. The inclement conditions ensured that we had a peaceful lunch undisturbed by others. We did, however, share our space with a few small spiders, who watched us curiously from the table surface for the duration of our meal.

The quiet rainfall made for an agreeable way to end our outing. Despite the lower biodiversity compared with our previous adventure, we still once more thoroughly enjoyed what the forest had to offer, and would follow up with two new (to us) nature trails the following week.