Archive for the ‘Natural Destinations’ Category

Winter Blooms

By Matt Pierle

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Cabin fever have you ready to see flowers again? If so, you’ve got options: Brazil and Bali are nice this time of year. Or seek out plants at a world-class botanical conservatory in, say, Montreal, London or San Francisco.

If you’re short on time or prefer shoestring travel though, you could do what I did over spring (technically late winter) break and book a $26 ticket on the Megabus from Burlington to Boston. From South Station Boston walk north to Chinatown, through Boston Common, past the frozen Frog Pond, to the Longfellow Bridge, over the Charles River to Cambridge and kick it up Broadway to Harvard Street. Continue north all the way to the Harvard Museum of Natural History.

In bloom you’ll find the extensive Ware Collection of Glass Models of Plants created by Czech born Leopold Blaschka and his son Rudolf. Most people simply call the collection “The Glass Flowers.” You read that right. This collection is not of flowers under glass, it is of flowers made of glass.

These life-size and larger-than-life specimens are more than impressionistic representations of garden blossoms; they are über-accurate botanical sculptures of a diversity of wild and cultivated plants. The pieces will challenge your powers to believe that something so realistic could be made from inert, colored sand.

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Who were the Blaschkas? How did they do it? And how did Harvard acquire these pieces?

The Blaschkas’ craft was not glassblowing. These pieces were created through a process called flameworking or lampworking. Glass rods were heated with the aid of paraffin and alcohol lamps, then cut with specialized scissors and shaped with tweezers, prods and other tools. Fine cooper wire provides structure for some of the daintier botanical structures, although I never once noticed the hidden metal armatures. Originally the pair worked with clear glass and then painted the models. Later they employed colored glass from the get go. Their eye for color was refined, to say the least, and a hundred or so years of display at the museum does not seem to have compromised their luster.

The artists, who worked without assistants or apprentices, came from a strong tradition of glasswork, a trade well established in their native Czech Republic. Indeed, Leopold’s father had also been a glassmaker. After Rudolf’s birth in 1857 Leopold moved the family to Dresden and established a workshop there.

From as early as 1863, Leopold earned a reputation for crafting museum quality glass invertebrates, mostly marine inverts, everything from jellyfish, and mollusks to sponges and corals.  The lifelike pieces were and are held by universities, museums and aquaria the world over – a few of which can also be seen at the Harvard Museum of Comparative Zoology.

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Leopold Blaschka experimented with plant models between 1860-1862 prior to making the marine models. These early plant models went from one owner to another before eventually being destroyed in a museum fire in the city of Liege, Belgium. In 1876 Rudolf started working full-time with his father. The Blaschkas spent the next ten years focusing on marine works for until they were approached by Dr. George L. Goodale who asked them them to make a few glass plants for Harvard.

Dr. Goodale was a plant physiologist and then curator of the herbarium at Harvard. After becaming familiar with the Blaschka’s impeccable work he traveled to Europe to meet them. Goodall wanted to have plant models that would endure for teaching and demonstration purposes. The Blaschkas shipped some pieces to the U.S. on speculation. In spite of being damaged in New York by customs inspection, Goodale showed the floral pieces to the Elizabeth Ware and her daughter Mary. The Ware women were sufficiently impressed. They generously offered to fund all aspects of the artistic production of more plants in honor of their late husband and father Dr. Charles Ware, a graduate of Harvard Medical School.

According to Jennifer Brown, the collection manager, Goodale hoped there would be at least 50 pieces created. That was 1886. Over the next 50 years the father-son team produced for Harvard around 4,300 individual pieces representing 787 distinct plant species.

The pair worked from plant specimens and cuttings sent from Harvard, from live material planted around their estate and from botanical drawings. While Leopold Blaschka remained in Europe, Rudolf traveled to the Americas in 1892 and then again in 1895. On those trips, he visited the growing collection of glass flowers at Harvard and did botanical drawings in the U.S. and Jamaica.

Packed in cardboard boxes with tissue paper and excelsior (wood wool), surprisingly few pieces were damaged in transport across the Atlantic from Germany to the U.S.

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At Harvard, the glass flowers are displayed in the style of herbarium vouchers

Each plant’s common and Linnaean name is shown on a tag, and smaller tags interpret oversized plant parts along with the degree of magnification (two to several hundred times). In this way, plant structures not easily seen with the naked eye are clearly displayed.

Peer into the throat of an iris to see the fine hairs lining the inner surface of the petals. See how the Nerf-football-sized male flower of a bat-pollinated banana plant dwarfs the dozens of female flowers that will develop one of our most globally important fruits.

Along with floral structures and fruiting bodies and non-reproductive plant parts like roots, leaf buds, and trichomes are presented in all of their fine scale glory.

Because of Harvard faculty interests in economic botany, later productions by the Blaschkas focused on cultivated plants from palms to figs, and from coffee to cacao.

There is even a rotting fruit series that depicts in jaw dropping accuracy stone fruits with fungus damage and apple fruit with cutaneous scab infections. Pieces emphasizing pollination feature flowers lacking one or more petals in order to show in graphic detail how foraging bees facilitating the transfer of male gametes from one plant to another.

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Exquisitely lifelike and, even to a botanist’s eye, beyond botanical reproach, the glass flowers will at once delight and educate you

Delicate flowers, tangles of roots and fresh leaves are all created as if by cloning. Goodale’s interest in having a collection of precise teaching specimens has been realized.

While several glass artists have tried, no one has replicating the exacting accuracy that the Blaschkas achieved. It’s not surprising that people arrive to Cambridge from all over the world to see these masterpieces and that many suggest that a divine energy or touch must have guided their creations.

If you’re a lover of plants, sculpture or hyper-realistic art, this is a collection you’ll want to see for yourself. Kids to seasoned botanists alike will appreciate the gallery, and the nice thing is, no matter which month you visit, the glass flowers are guaranteed to be in bloom.

Right now, it could be the perfect cure for cabin fever.

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Matt Pierle is a Field Naturalist candidate at the University of Vermont who has botanized from California to Cambridge. 

Special thanks to Collection Manager, Jennifer Brown, Herbarium Co-Director, Dr. Charles Davis and Gallery Volunteer, David Donovan. All photos by Matt Pierle with permission from the Harvard University Herbaria and Harvard Museum of Natural History.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fir Waves

Fir_SmallBy Gus Goodwin

I suspect there is a positive correlation between one’s appreciation for fir waves and one’s distance from them.  From a distance, fir waves etch a pleasing pattern on the landscape, pose interesting ecological questions, and remind us that turmoil can be a form of stability.  Up close, they inflict scrapes and puncture wounds, incite expletives, and remind us to plan the next vacation to California, where the mountains have no trees (and it hardly ever rains).

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The Burlington Naturalist Scavenger Hunt Series: Williston’s Muddy Brook Wetland

A special series of blog posts brought to you by Liz Brownlee 
The Burlington Naturalist Scavenger Hunt Series: Discover the area’s hidden gems.  Hone your naturalist skills.  Learn to see the treasures along every walking path, trail, and creek.
This series of scavenger hunts is a chance to get outside, look closely at the world around you, and enjoy nature.  The hunts are designed for budding naturalists of any age.
 
Hunt I: Williston’s Muddy Brook Wetland
 
Cruise east, away from the noise of Burlington. Slip south of Highway Two, curving along Hinesburg Road onto Van Slicken Road.  Pass the oldest house in Williston – light grey stones, hand hewn in the 18th century.  Crunch onto the gravel of the parking lot, leave your car (or bike!), and step into the wildness at Muddy Brook Wetland.
Cattails dance on the winter wind, and signs of animals layer this scrubby landscape. To the casual visitor, Williston’s Muddy Brook Wetland rejuvenates and relaxes.  It is a deep breath at the end of the day.
For the budding naturalist equipped with this scavenger hunt, the wetland also offers mid-winter wonder.  Look closely at the ground, the bent grasses, the flowing stream. Find and learn to identify scat, deciduous trees, nests, and other natural treasures. Enjoy!
Find the first scavenger hunt here: Scavenger Hunt- Williston’s Muddy Brook Wetland

The Charisma of the Drab

Wandering down Boulevard Saint Germain near Notre Dame in Paris, I passed a store window filled with insect specimens on display. The stylish sign read Claude et Nature (Claude and Nature).

I veered into the store, astonished that such a place exists. A small stuffed bison (small for a bison, that is) stood in the center of the store, next to a case of fossils. On the right were black cases full of artfully arranged insect specimens. On the left were fossils, shells, stuffed birds, skulls (human and weasel, among others), and sea stars. All were perfectly preserved and arranged, and neatly labeled with the species name and country of origin.

I spent some time perusing the insects—they had an uncommon family of weevils!—then wandered into the fossil section, then back to the insects.

Other customers were in the store, buying up iridescent blue morpho butterflies, flashy rhinoceros beetles with horny ornamentations, and large walking stick insects, which look just like knobby sticks with legs. All of the creatures on sale were eye-catching in some way. I found myself disappointed that there weren’t more insects with mundane appearances. I craved some little drab ones so I could learn about their diversity. One of the most beautiful insects I’ve ever seen was brown and white and hardly bigger than a pinhead (a lacebug, in case you are curious). The insects present were in families already familiar to me.

This led me to ponder one of the differences between amateur and expert naturalists: level of attraction to charismatic megafauna.

Amateur naturalists and non-naturalists flock to the Serengeti to see lions and elephants, even just for a few hours. Few head to sandy beaches in Massachusetts to see tiger beetles. And when they buy preserved insects, they buy the largest, most colorful individuals. Experts and devoted amateurs, on the other hand, may be eager to see lions and tigers, but they are also there for the naked mole rats and dung beetles. Why?

I believe the answer has to do with memory and learning. An inherent characteristic of many animals is that they easily remember something bright, large, or dangerous. This is what is exploited by the wasp’s black and yellow warning coloration: remember me, don’t bother me, I sting. Young blue jays who eat a monarch butterfly and then vomit refuse to eat a second monarch because they recognize it. They may also refuse to eat other orange and black butterflies, whether or not those butterflies are actually noxious.

Just because I can easily remember what a blue morpho butterfly looks like doesn’t mean I’ll want a dead one hanging on my wall. A blue morpho is a beautiful blue that flashes sometimes deep sea blue, sometimes robin’s egg blue. I enjoy seeing beautiful things—that’s why I want it on my wall.

But I could just as well hang an iridescent blue hubcap on my wall; why a butterfly? Now my answer comes to the crux: because our love of living things is inherent.

This love is called biophilia, a term coined by E.O. Wilson and expounded upon by him and Stephen Kellert. This is why I find myself drawn to watch the fish in my aquarium and end up with a stupid, happy grin on my face. This is why people spend 30 Euros on a dead long-horned beetle (in spite of being dead, the beetle retains its living appearance when preserved).

I think experts have these three things—memory, appreciation of beauty, and biophilia—in larger or more finely tuned doses. Entomologists know and remember much more about insects than the average Schmoe, so they are more likely to remember the little drab ones as well as the big sexy beasts. They can notice more about a lacebug because they already know what it is. Their appreciation is honed to subtler beauty.

I have made it sound like being an expert is better than being an amateur in terms of seeing and loving the beauty of the world. Not so. Experts in the beauty of soil chemistry may be amateurs in the intricacies of maggot hibernation or cloud formation. They may not even see other parts of the world in any depth. Amateurs may be able to see and appreciate a broader slice of the world because they do not dig too deep a tunnel. I think there is a world between the loud blue morphos and the rare weevils where subtle beauty can be found and cherished.

On my last night in Paris I walked to Notre Dame, then across the Seine to the Hotel de Ville. There was an ice-skating rink set up in the square and a crowd of bundled Parisians whirling round and round. Some wobbled and held onto their equally wobbly friends, laughing and crashing into the wall around the rink. Others raced in weaving lines between the wobblers, or twirled on their blade tips in the center, muscular and graceful. The amateurs enjoyed laughing with their friends. For the experts, it may have been getting a move right. Both the amateurs and the experts were paying attention to the beauty of the experience, be it loud or subtle.

Natural Destinations: Dead Creek Wildlife Management Area

by Cathy Bell

(originally posted on vtdigger.org)

Every autumn, thousands of snow geese take a break from their 5,000 mile southbound migration to rest and feed at Dead Creek Wildlife Management Area in Addison, Vermont.  Journeying from their breeding grounds on the Arctic tundra to their winter range in the mid-Atlantic and southeastern states, the snow geese are but fleeting visitors to the Green Mountain State, descending on our cornfields from October into early November.

The bright white feathers of a snow goose’s body contrast with tips of the wings, which look as though they have been dipped in paint of the richest black.  Young birds are brushed with gray on their backs, giving them a dirty appearance.  Here and there among the flocks are dark gray individuals with white faces.  These steely-looking birds, commonly known as “blue geese,” are the same species as the white ones.  Snow geese of either coloration are far prettier, to my eye, than our resident Canada geese.  Getting to see these visitors from the north is a seasonal treat.

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Snow geese at Dead Creek

Hoping to find some snow geese, I went to Dead Creek on Saturday, October 30.  The day started out sunny but clouded up as the big Halloween nor’easter worked its way towards New England.  Driving down Route 22A from the north, I made a right turn onto Route 17.  I had gone less than a mile from Addison Four Corners when I saw a wheeling flock of waterfowl.  Backlit, the winged forms did not reveal any details of their plumage, but the size and flight pattern didn’t seem quite right for Canada geese.  Even as I thought to myself that I must be in the right place, I saw a turnoff on the south side of the road.  I pulled off the highway, shut off the ignition, and hopped out of the car, binoculars in hand.  Looking to the south, I felt my jaw drop in wonder.

About 800 geese were in a field very close by, in easy sight of a viewing platform with interpretive signs.  Hundreds more were in a distant depression.  From the knot of people with binoculars and spotting scopes a quarter mile to the west, I guessed there was another—possibly even bigger—group of geese over there too.  Aerial photo counts that weekend documented more than 4,600 geese in the area, but few people braved the chill wind of the gray afternoon to witness the impressive spectacle.

A northern harrier, its white rump patch catching the watery light, startled the nearest geese into rising from where they rested and fed.  Within moments, the nervousness of a few waterfowl swept through the flock, and hundreds of birds were in the air, honking their discontent in a higher-pitched and more tremulous voice than that of the familiar Canada goose.

Though I looked carefully, I failed to find any Ross’s geese among the swirling clouds of white waterfowl.  Snow geese and Ross’s geese are two distinct species, though very similar in appearance; the rarer Ross’s is more diminutive in build and has a smaller bill.  I later read on the Vermont bird listserv that there were indeed two Ross’s geese at Dead Creek that afternoon, but they were the needles in the haystack of thousands of snow geese.

I may have lucked into witnessing the peak of this year’s snow goose migration, but there’s still time for you to see the spectacular waterfowl as they pass through Vermont.

At 2,858 acres, Dead Creek Wildlife Management Area is administered by Vermont Fish and Wildlife and includes extensive reaches of cattail marsh and stretches of open water.  The geese, however, are concentrated in upland agricultural fields.  The designated goose viewing area along Route 17 is the best place to see the birds, but a little farther south, Gage Road can provide good sightings as well.

Moreover, though the snow geese may be the star attraction, there is more here for inquisitive visitors to enjoy.  Northern shovelers and green-winged teal dabble in the shallow, ponded water of the fields, and once in a while a pectoral sandpiper passes by overhead.  A quarter mile west of the goose viewing turnoff, Route 17 crosses the still, murky waters of Dead Creek.  Mallards and black ducks ply the waters here.  Just over the bridge, a left turn takes you down a gravel road towards a hunters’ camping area.  Look along the reedy edges of the water for great blue herons and wood ducks.  Despite its name, Dead Creek is a lively place.

The creek flows northward, parallel to the southernmost portion of Lake Champlain.  Just seven miles north of where it flows under Route 17, the creek joins with Otter Creek and soon wends its way into the lake.  Its meandering path has been modified by the addition of dams, and today, the state actively manages water levels in the flooded impoundments.

The snow goose hunting season runs from October 1 – December 29 in the Lake Champlain waterfowl hunting zone, with a daily bag limit of 25 birds.  Portions of the Dead Creek Wildlife Management Area, including the upland areas south of Route 17 near the viewing area, are managed as a refuge where no hunting or other public access is permitted.

More information, including maps and directions, is available from Audubon Vermont and Vermont Fish and Wildlife.

Natural Destinations: Silvio O. Conte National Fish and Wildlife Refuge

By Danielle Owczarski

A view of Lewis Pond and the Nulhegan River Basin during October foliage.

Far from Burlington, hidden in the low basin of the Nulhegan River in the Northeast Kingdom, awaits a little known National Fish and Wildlife Refuge. The 26,000 acres of refugium established in 1999 encompasses three headwater tributaries to the Nulhegan River, itself a tributary to the 7.2 million acre Connecticut River watershed. Protection of this basin is critical to the health of many species of plants and wildlife and to the water quality of the Connecticut River. The Silvio O. Conte National Fish and Wildlife Refuge was created to protect these valued natural resources.

The North Branch of the Nulhegan River.

Now is the best time to visit the quiet boreal and northern hardwood landscape. Red and sugar maple, balsam fir, tamarack, yellow birch, and beech color the landscape in the fall months, nourishing the soul’s need for creative inspiration. Lewis Pond, the Nulhegan River trail, and Mollie Beattie Bog (named after UVM Alumni and first women director of U.S. Fish and Wildlife), are a few of the Tolkienesque attractions within the refuge. Start your tour at the exemplary Visitor’s Center in Brunswick, VT, to collect trail maps and wildlife viewing guides and explore the interactive interpretive exhibits.

Mollie Beattie Bog, a black spruce woodland bog, is a significant natural community in Vermont. The interpretive trail includes a handicap accessible boardwalk.

The headwaters of the Nulhegan offer a tranquil and wild setting for fly fishermen and women. The Black Branch and North Branch, along with Lewis Pond, comprise healthy brook trout populations, which are periodically stocked by the Vermont Department of Fish and Wildlife. The most recent stocking in the Black Branch on June 20, 2011, included 100 eight-inch yearling brook trout. Studies conducted in 2000 indicate that self-sustaining wild brook trout populations exist within the cool clear tannic waters of the refuge streams. The ideal habitat supports healthy macroinvertebrate populations that provide nourishment for the trout throughout the year.

A wild brook trout caught in the Nulhegan River.

The refuge also supports scientific research studies. While driving or hiking along the refuge roads, lined and filled with gravel and dirt, you’ll come across plots of young low grasses and shrubs, managed to encourage breeding and nesting of the American Woodcock (Scolopax minor). The area is also home to such projects as the Migratory Bird Stopover Habitat Study, the Canada Warbler Study at the Nulhegan Basin Division, Effects of Habitat Fragmentation on Carnivore Distribution and Fitness Indicators in Vermont Forests, and the Study of Public Use on the Nulhegan Basin Division.

Be sure to enjoy the ride.

This land is truly a place for anyone with a passion for the outdoors whether hiking, bird watching, hunting, fishing, observing, or renewing. So turn off the computer, grab a friend, and immerse yourself in Nature.

For directions to and in-depth information about the Silvio O. Conte NFWR:

http://www.fws.gov/r5soc/come_visit/nulhegan_basin_division.html