The sun had been up for an hour and the day was already warming. As I sat down to a steaming bowl of cinnamon oatmeal, Bernd walked into the cabin and announced that it was -24 degrees Fahrenheit outside. This made the rest of the week seem balmy, with temperatures fluctuating between -5 and 28 degrees F. Soon we would head outside for an exploratory ramble. It was just another day in Bernd Heinrich’s Winter Ecology class.
When I tell people about winter camping their reaction is often one of shock; sometimes I provoke a chorus of “That sounds terrible!” People ask these experiences with comic incredulity, but their questions give me the chance to explain why braving the cold is worth it.
Winter is beautiful.
Photo by Bonnie Richord
The landscape sparkles with snow, the late-afternoon sun paints the hills pink, and the tree silhouettes stand twisted against the sky. After a snowfall, the world is transformed, quiet, and peaceful.
While many animals are sleeping or have left town, the ones that remain can be easier to see against the backdrop of snow and bare tree branches. Below, check out an owl sighting from winter ecology. Continue reading →
GET YOURSELF UNDER SOME WILD MISTLETOE this Christmas. Your gift might be a shock-and-awe butterfly called Great Purple Hairstreak.
Mistletoe is a plant that grows on trees or shrubs. And it’s a bit of a leech, a hemiparasite, which means mistletoe draws minerals and fluids from its host. But mistletoe is also photosynthetic, generating some of its own energy demands from sunshine. Oh, by the way, there is no one mistletoe. The world has more than 1,000 mistletoe species. I’ve got one of them in a cottonwood next to my cabin here in New Mexico. Mistletoes grow flowers, have pollinators, and produce fruits like many other plants.
In Arizona this past weekend, among thousands of butterflies, I encountered a single Great Purple Hairstreak. That’s usually how we find them, sluggish and alone, about the size of your thumbnail, crawling among flowers and lapping up nectar. But the business side of this butterfly, at least when it comes to mistletoe, is the caterpillar. Great Purple Hairstreak caterpillars eat mistletoe species in the genus Phoradendron (and maybe others). Continue reading →
Outside my window, a robin pecks around in the rain. It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and the forecast calls for the rain to turn to snow tonight in my Massachusetts hometown. So why isn’t this robin right now flying south toward a warm, easy winter?
American robins are facultative partial migrants: they decide each year whether to migrate
Casual birdwatchers see robins as harbingers of spring, but you can actually find them year-round throughout much of the U.S. Based on my own observations, robins seem to stick around more now than they did twenty years ago—perhaps global warming plays a role in that trend (see November 6 post). But climate change can’t explain why some robins flee wintertime and others take their chances.
[Update: The day after publishing this post, I stumbled across an article by biologist Mark Davis saying that more robins stay in the north for the winter now because of a greater winter food supply: they happily eat the berries of several increasingly common non-native species.]
Many birds, like warblers and hummingbirds, migrate annually no matter what. Others, including robins, kingfishers, and chickadees, are “partial migrants”: within a single population in a given year, some will migrate and some will not. Backyard birdwatchers who rejoice in the first robin of spring aren’t necessarily unobservant. There are fewer robins around in winter, and those that do stay often roost in bogs and swamps instead of backyards. Each year, a robin must decide based on the available food supply whether to migrate; a snowy winter landscape can never provide as much food as the same land in summer. Some robins may even leave mid-season if the conditions turns especially harsh. Continue reading →
Shelby and one of her dad’s bucks sometime in the early 90’s.
By Shelby Perry
It’s hunting season, and this year I’m working through my end-of-semester stress with a rifle. I’ve never been a hunter before, but, as a native Vermonter, deer camp, hunter-safety orange, and the first rule of gun safety (always point your muzzle in a safe direction!) have been in my vocabulary since childhood. As I prepare for my first rifle season as a hunter, I have been surprised to find that many of my classmates did not grow up around hunting, and haven’t really thought about what it might mean to them. Staying safe during hunting season really boils down to three main points, and shouldn’t be intimidating or frightening.
Be visible. Wearing hunter-safety orange any and every time you go out in the woods during rifle season is a must. A lot of people think wearing any bright color will do, but almost nothing is more visible and recognizable as human in the late fall forest than hunter-safety orange.
Be respectful. Few things are more frustrating for a hunter who has been shivering silently in a tree stand since dawn than a person or dog thrashing obliviously past. If you think there might be a hunter already in the woods it’s best to stick to heavily traveled trails or to just avoid the area during rifle season altogether. Less about safety and more about etiquette, respecting other legal uses of the forests you love is a condition on which your own access depends.
Take it seriously. “It won’t happen to me” is the wrong approach to safety during hunting season. Spend 8 hours looking for deer in the woods and your brain will start to make them out of everything – tree branches are antlers, the crunching leaves under a retreating rabbit are footsteps. I am not condoning the actions of anyone who would pull the trigger before being absolutely certain of their target, but I am saying that it is wise to set yourself up for success. Never assume your safety is someone else’s responsibility.
Most of us have probably seen the headlines: “2014 on Track to be Hottest Year on Record,” or “Climate deniers lost for words: 2014 set for hottest year on record.” Yikes! Is it true? If so, what does this mean for us?
The story behind the headlines is based partially on information on the month of August. NASA and NOAA have both confirmed data showing that this August was the warmest August on record. Although New England’s August was relatively mild, temperatures in Central Europe, northern Africa, parts of South America, and western North America exceeded the norm. Ocean temperatures were also warmer than usual.
All this added up to a record-setting August. One month may be no big deal, until you consider that this makes August the 354th consecutive month that is above the 20th century average. And the top 10 hottest complete years on record are 1998, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2010, and 2013. I’m beginning to see a trend.
If, like me, you hate hot weather and despair at the thought of these rising temperatures, take heart in the map above, which shows most of the United States falling below 20th century averages. If we get too hot we can always relocate to the midwest.
I inherited many things from my dad: blue eyes, an affinity for two-cylinder engines, and a passion for woodworking. A set of long-handled carving tools made the journey north from Massachusetts to Vermont with me. I left behind a stout wood lathe, a former resident of the local vocational high school. Between its dark-green metal housing and the exposed 2×4’s of the garage is a well-kept pile of saw dust and wood chips.
If you were to plunge a soil auger into this pile, you’d see a resemblance to “varves” left behind by freezing and thawing cycles of glacial Lake Vermont. Large wood chips give way to fine sawdust—evidence of increasing from 60 to 400 grit sandpaper. The red layers are not redoximorphic reactions, but rather the presence of redwood, Honduran rosewood, and other species not found in the typical New England northern hardwood forests. Continue reading →
Not unlike humans, fall fashion is a major event in the fungi kingdom. The theme this fall is retro-seventies blend of yellow, red, tan, and faded orange. Here are some of the superstars I’ve spotted out and about this week. Also, watch the instructional video below on lending a helping hand (or stick) to a puffball in need.
Oyster mushroom – Pleurotus ostreatus
Oysters from afar
Hypholoma sublateritium – ‘Brick Top’. Purple brown spores. Fruits on dead hardwoods.
Brick tops showing distinctive color.
Pholiota malicola (?) at base of hemlock.
Pholiota malicola (?) – based on habitat, morphology, spore color, persistence of veil fragments on underside cap margin. not 100% tho.
Pholiota squarrosoides – scaly, weird cap, fruiting in clusters on hardwood trees. Thanks to Sam Talbot for the photo!
Colors burst forth from the trees. It is fall. Or so my Instagram feed, chocked full of apple cider donuts and flaming red trees, portends.
I am soaking in the beige and pale yellow of my desk in the University of Vermont’s Aiken building. The first-year Field Naturalists appear sporadically to study, still in the midst of their first-semester field courses. I’m square in the mid-semester of my second year.
My field work from the summer seems like a dream as plot data fills in the squares of Excel spreadsheets – the ostensibly dull side of the field ecologist’s life. Yet I gain a certain excitement from all the numbers. I’m a detective, a quantifying detective. I see patterns on the landscape during the summer. Will they emerge from my data? Will I find an unexpected pattern?
Since I do not have the brisk fall air to keep me alert and awake, coffee and classical music fuel me. Oddly enough, this inside work is why I am here at school. At age 15, I swore to myself I would never work inside. I worked outside for the next 15 years. During my time in recreation management, I wondered about the ecological aspects of low-impact recreation. What were the effects of backcountry rock quarries? What were the impacts of mountain bike trails? Were rock climbers threatening rare plants?
For my masters project I delve into low-impact recreation as I explore whether glading, clearing in the trees where skiers can make multiple linked turns, has an effect on wildlife habitat suitability. I am inside, studying the outside. Working for all those years outside led me to realize that humans and landscapes cannot be managed separately. In the spring, I hope to leave this beige and yellow world to work for an organization that focuses on the importance of the ecological and social aspects of conservation.
An insect death trap resides in our local wetlands. It’s a grisly tale of plant versus animal, with an unusual twist. Using a modified leaf to create a snare, the Northern Pitcher Plant is one of Vermont’s most unusual and sinister herbs.
Pitcher plants live in wetlands where the peat soil is low in nitrogen. Instead of using extensive root systems or relationships with nitrogen gathering fungi, pitcher plants have evolved to lure, catch, and digest insects to meet their nutritional needs.
From inside its columnar leaf, the pitcher plant emits a sweet smell that attracts insects. Curious bugs fly into the leaf, where they realize that there is no delicious nectar awaiting. When they try to fly out, downward pointing hairs impede their escape. In the pitcher, the insect eventually drowns in a pool of digestive enzymes, insect larvae, flesh flies, and bacteria. This slurry of creatures and chemicals break apart the insect, allowing the pitcher plant to absorbs the precious nutrients that the body contained.
So head on out to your local bog and watch the saga unfold. Witness the demise of a moth or a gnat. You might even see something unusual, like a salamander in a pitcher (photo below), that will make you leave with some new questions and a wild story.
At the bog. Photo by Jessie Griffen
A salamander in a pitcher plant. Look for the tail. Photo by Jessie Griffen
Emma Stuhl is a first year graduate student in the Field Naturalist Program. She is glad that meat eating plants are generally quite small.