February: Survival

On this particular February Monday after a cold and snowy weekend, the clouds dissipated and the sun returned. With 50º temperatures and blue skies, I decided there was no better day to spend the afternoon in Centennial.

In February, most organisms have not yet awoken for spring, and snow still persists on the forest floor. Animal tracks were difficult to find due to the hardened, refrozen snow on the ground and lack of recent snowfall, but I did find signs of rabbits in my spot. Though the rabbit would be too small to break the icy surface of the frozen snow, I did find some scat. Rabbits do not hibernate during the winter, so they are active all winter looking for food. They burrow holes into the ground or live in dead trees or hollow logs to stay warm, and their main predators are predatory birds like hawks, owls, and falcons, and small mammals like foxes and weasels. They are herbivores, eating primarily grasses, clovers, fruits, seeds, roots, and any other ground-level plants they can get their hands on. During winter when these types of food sources are scarce, so they rely more on tree bark, twigs, and pine needles. Tree bark missing from the bottom of trees is an indicator that rabbits are nearby. They also eat their own poop because an excellent source of Vitamin B! (Carter, 2019.)

There have not been many phenological changes since my last visit in January because it is still cold and snowy outside. However, the ice that completely covered the waterfall and brook has melted slightly, giving hope of spring in the near future. The brook was fuller and running faster than last time from melting snow. The trees are still bare, aside from the pine and hemlock trees growing on the hill.

Sources: Carter, L. (2019, December 15). Where Do Wild Rabbits Go in the Winter Time? Retrieved from https://www.rabbitcaretips.com/where-wild-rabbits-go-in-winter/

January: Endurance

As winter tightens its grip on Vermont’s landscape, most creatures of the forest become dormant to protect themselves from the extreme cold and harsh conditions. But life still exists and prevails during these long winter months, though it may be difficult.

In figure 1 we see a set of tracks approaching the brook. Based on the diagonal walking pattern and the two toed hoof-like shaped print, I believe these are deer tracks. The deer could have been meandering down the brook to take a drink and to browse the plants that grow along the banks to see if theres any food to eat. In figure two, we see the tracks of a squirrel. Based on the galloping pattern of the tracks and the size, I know these are squirrel tracks and not rabbit tracks, which are typically staggered and have larger tracks from the back feet. Though conditions are harsh, there are still signs of life here.

Additionally, on the way to my phenology sight, I encountered something strange- bark missing from trees in odd places (Figure 3). I immediately got excited, remembering that moose rub their antlers against trees to scratch off its velvet, stripping trees of their bark. But after doing some research, it is clear that moose strip much more of the bark off than what I saw missing. I did, however, find that both squirrels and porcupines strip bark off trees for their nests, which is much more plausible considering my whereabouts. This is another sign of life in a seemingly sleepy forest.

Figure 3: Bark missing from an Eastern White Pine

Though animal sightings may be sparse during the winter months, there is one type of organism that will never abandon its place in the forest: trees. Trees stand through every season and the hardships that come with each, whether its lack of water or competition for sun or disease brought by summer bugs. The trees that surround my sight in Centennial include Eastern White Pines, Birch trees, Red and Sugar Maples, Red Oaks, and Eastern Hemlocks. Figure 4 shows a young Birch sapling, growing tall despite the harsh conditions, and Figure 5 is a sketch of one of its twigs.

There are only slight changes since I last visited my sight in December; there is more snow on the ground than last time and the brook froze over. However, I can still hear the trickle of the waterfall, so the water is still active beneath the ice. This is important as the brook is a lifeline for many plants and organisms throughout Centennial Woods.

Sense of Place on Cape Cod

For the majority of my life, I lived in a small town called Sandwich on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I went to high school off cape about 45 minutes away from my house, so all of the friends that I made throughout high school lived an hour or so away. For all of my freshman and sophomore year I felt isolated; I had no friends in my town because I went to catholic middle school 2 towns over, and I couldn’t drive, so I had no means of seeing my long-distance friends. I was so caught up in what I was missing out on that I failed to appreciate the beauty of what was around me, right outside my front door. 

            My junior year I took an environmental science class and fell in love with the subject matter. This was the first time I was able to pinpoint my passions, and I realized that I had been negligent in recognizing the privilege I held living in such a vibrant landscape. I lived amongst a forest, half a mile away from a cranberry bog, a mile away from a salt marsh, and a mile and a half away from the ocean. Such a broad range of wildlife roams the different habitats of the cape, from foxes and deer to marine and predatory birds to sharks and whales. I took a particular liking to birds and spent many warm spring afternoons sitting in the grass of my backyard identifying the local birds that inhabited the trees. I became familiar with the non-migratory species of where I lived, like mourning doves, catbirds, sparrows, and starlings. I looked forward to the spring and summer months when the vibrant birds would return, and I’d get to see flashes of blue, yellow, and red outside as the bluebirds, finches, and cardinals carried on their days. I learned other quirks about the ecology of Cape Cod, like how blue hydrangea plants grow purple flowers when the soil is too acidic, or how to tell when the beach plums that grow along the shores are ripe. I suddenly began to notice and appreciate the beauty of where I lived, something I failed to see when I was focused on the wrong things. My knowledge and familiarity with the landscape of my town gives me a sense of place there.

            Another reason I feel such a strong sense of place on Cape Cod is my best friend Siobhan. We have been friends for 8 years now, and all of my favorite memories growing up involved her. We spent countless summer hours together wasting away at the beach, going to concerts, having bonfires, watching sunsets, or just sitting at home doing nothing. She introduced me to all her friends, who kindly accepted me into their circle and made me feel like I was a part of something instead of the isolated outcast that I had felt like for years prior. Siobhan is one of the most important connections in my life, and I cherish the time we spent growing up together in such a beautiful place. She, along with my interest and passion for the natural world, are the main reasons I feel a sense of place on Cape Cod.   

Phenology and Place

As the seasons change, my sense of place in my phenology location changes as well. When I first found the spot in early September, the forest was vibrant and full of life as the summer started to wind down. I remember feeling energized by all the life and movement around me. When fall came, the leaves changes and life began to slow down a bit; I saw and heard fewer creatures as last time and I began to feel the cool breeze of winter approaching. It felt calmer, but the forest still felt alive with trees swaying in the cool autumn air, migratory birds singing their final goodbyes, and mammals preparing their burrows for the winter. This time when I visited, I was struck with an intense feeling of peace. The world fell silent as is it snowed, blanketing the forest floor. I heard nothing but the faint trickle of the creek, which had deepened and slowed since my last visit. My sense of place here changed from a place that energized me with its vibrancy and life to a place that brought me peace and clarity. I was able to sit there for a while and feel totally calm, despite all that is happening a few miles away back at school.

         My site in Centennial Woods is a small piece to a large system. In a way, my sense of place in the world feels similar to my phenology’s site in the woods. I am a part of many systems; I am a part of my family, a part of a group of friends, a part of the student body of UVM, a member of my local society, and a citizen of the world. Just as my site is affected by whatever is happening in its surroundings, I am affected by my surroundings. This inclusivity in the events happening around me help give me a sense of place. I also feel a strong sense of place in my site because it’s a place I can go to disconnect and just be surrounded by nature. Visiting my site reminds me that I’m nothing more than another animal in the woods. We get so caught up in our day to day lives that we magnify our importance, so it’s both calming and humbling to feel small and insignificant surrounded by the trees. 

Hello world!

Phenology blog of a spot in Centennial Woods along the brook
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