Month: November 2018

While Green Brook is nestled between houses in suburbia, Centennial Brook exists in a city. It is strange that despite having less space between buildings in Burlington, they managed to carve out a piece of nature for all to enjoy while this land is almost all that is left of nature in North Caldwell. At Centennial woods, the peck of a Pileated Woodpecker can be heard, while back at home in Green Brook I saw and heard no birds.

The thrush at Green Brook is larger than that at Centennial brook as well. A hardwood stand surrounds Centennial brook whereas in North Caldwell, it is hickory and oak trees that make up the stands. Pines dominate the overstory at Centennial woods whereas oaks tower over the brook at Green Brook. A weeping willow marks its ground at Green Brook where there are no willows at my phenology site in Centennial Brook. The difference in temperature between the two sites is about 10-15 degrees Fahrenheit during the fall, which leads to a slightly different composition of tree species that can thrive.

The surroundings of Green Brook are houses with clear-cut yards while outside Centennial brook lies businesses and the UVM campus. The Gould Elementary school campus sits across from Green Brook, but closer to it are homes. Liberty field holds the town hall, two baseball diamonds, a basketball court, a playground, and a tennis court. There are none of these amenities surrounding Centennial brook. This leads to the existence of life at Green brook consisting of mainly mammals such as deer and rabbits, whereas Centennial brook is home to toads, salamanders, and frogs. Mammals exist near Centennial brook as well, but I have yet to come across one. At Green Brook, it is one of the only spots in town where deer are welcome, so they rest.

The main difference is the size of the slice of nature surrounding the brooks. Centennial woods is larger than the woods behind Liberty field could ever be. This key difference is what separates the two sites.

Finding the woods in between houses is a task all animals in northern New Jersey must master. The deer are exceptional at this; finding the nooks and crannies humans cannot reach. Green Brook, located behind Liberty Field is a safe haven for these deer. Upon entering the forest, the senses become aware that there is something else. Frozen in the distance, stands a white-tail deer, eyes wide with fear. Another step, and the deer is gone- a flight response.

With the deer gone, the woods become lonesome again. When checking the brook for life, the only visible signs of it are plastic water bottles from parents too tired to walk across the park to recycle their waste. There are no fish. There are no frogs. There are no salamanders. The pool is still- breezes may shake it a little, but it is dead. It is a sad life for someone who cares for nature in New Jersey. Often those who care feel like the Lorax- seen but not heard.

Suddenly, rustling occurs in the Oak/Hickory stand. A rabbit, an eastern cottontail, jumps out of the brush and hops away. It is these small glimpses of nature that remind me New Jersey is not lost to overdevelopment. The life that lived here before humans lives on and it will live on after humans as well.

https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?hl=en&mid=1RI5_OeeZ3fPA8pX435qFxAB-WflRcNIH&ll=40.86331910029348%2C-74.25979256479025&z=18

 

Green Brook is a small brook that runs in the woods behind a local park that is around the corner from my house. You get to it by walking past the second baseball diamond and entering down a dirt path where the brook is in view. An Eagle Scout project gave this brook a bridge, which connects to an Oak/Hickory forest (if one can call it a forest.)

Here are some photos:

Here is a picture of the brook from 2013. Since this time, the site has been disturbed by teenagers, hunters, and animals.

As the cold air settled in, the plants that once blossomed are now decaying. The trees are beginning to grow fungi, the wildflowers that once bloomed are now turning brown. The leaves have left all of the trees, littering the floor of the forest with an array of red, yellow, and orange leaves. In the distance, the evergreens painted the backdrop of the brook with green, but the only thing left green around the area is grass. The mud is creeping onto the bank as well. While I was unable to see any animal prints in the mud this trip, I will be looking out for tracks in the future.

While visiting, I noticed that the storms this past week caused the stream to rise a couple feet and was flowing rapidly whereas in the previous visit it was almost still. I found it interesting that an increase in the amount of water greatly impacted the flow. While the water looked alive, the only life I saw was a squirrel in the distance and I heard the call of the pileated woodpecker once again. Despite small traces of animal presence, the fall foliage was on display. Someone had laid out Norway maple leaves across the bridge, which showcased the beautiful yellow color of the leaves in the fall. As for the iron-oxidizing bacteria I viewed last week, it is still there. I am interested to see if it will still be there next week.

Here is my event map:

When I was asked who I trusted,
words could not explain,
for my heart was attached
to the current that flows like
blood flows in my veins.

The swirls of the brook sing
the tidings of the day,
and the trees around it hum along 
while they sway.

The music of the world,
the dance of life,
and the balance of nature
is what gives me advice.

When I was asked who I trusted,
words could not explain,
for the secret of the stream
was best left in my brain.

Emily Johnston

As wind blows,
and birds fly away,
the clear water flows,
never moving astray.

Ruler of the woods,
giver of life,
when surrounded by hardwoods,
you are not afraid to run rife.

The courage of this brook,
that runs rampant with glee,
is a guidebook
for you and me.

For the water flows forever,
carrying memories long forgotten.
So, I sit wherever,
listening to how the world turned rotten.

With each morrow unknown,
uncertainties are abound,
the one comfort known,
is that this brook will be around.

Emily Johnston