Like many regional and travel magazines, Adirondack Life has an annual photography issue. I don't know about past years, but this year the editors put their Grand Prize Winner on the cover as well—and a B&W magazine cover always takes a bit of editorial courage. Kudos. Winner Rick Tyrseck, another among the legions inspired by the great John Shaw, is a semipro scenic and nature photographer specializing in the Northeast. He lives in Danbury, Connecticut, and took this with a Canon 5D Mark II and 24–105mm lens.
The cover looks terrific.
The Adirondacks, or Adirondack mountains (for some of our International readers who might not know), is a huge region in the upper part of New York State, geologically a "massif," that is overlaid by what is often called "Adirondack Park." Actually it's neither a National Park nor a State Park—it's a forest preserve, managed by the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation and not by the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation. Consequently, it is not listed as a State Park.
More than 50% privately owned (but tightly regulated), the Adirondack Forest Preserve covers 6.1 million acres (2,468,582 hectares) and encompasses more than 1,900 lakes and ponds and between 25,000 and 30,000 miles of rivers and streams. It is larger than the State of Vermont and the largest public protected area in the lower 48 States. Lake Placid, where the 1980 Winter Olympics were held, is in the Adirondacks. The name is a transliteration of the Mohawk word for tree-eater or bark-eater, referring either to porcupines, or, derogatorily, to the Mohawks' neighbors the Algonquians.
(Thanks to Mark Hobson and JohnMFlores)
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Featured Comments from:
David Miller, Grasswood, Saskatchewan:
"Oh, they are 'tree-eaters' indeed! Every winter gives rise to a running battle with the little 'pine-pigs' (porc au pin). A porcupine can gnaw a circle of bark from a pine or elm trunk in a single night, killing a tree that has stood for a hundred years. And all for the sake of a single supper, which seems a bit disproportionate.
"No, I don’t kill them. The trick is to knock them off a low branch, scoop them out of the snow with a garbage can, and deport them to a nature park a few miles away where they can eat scrub willow to their hearts content and leave trails through the snow for the entertainment of schoolchildren on class outings to the park. Win, win, win.
"In the summer they keep to themselves, eat small green plants and annoy no one. We rarely see them."