A UVM blog Erik Rosenmeier’s Phenology Spot

I explored a few places around Burlington this weekend for the bioblitz. Many of my observations came from just walking around campus in my daily life, but I also too a trip down 89 to the Mad River for a bit of paddling. At the put in I found plenty of trees and some Red Trillium!

My experience using iNaturalist was pretty good. I wasn’t sure whether my observations were being entered into my lab group for a bit, but I eventually figured it out.

Though this isn’t a city, I was fascinated with posts from Antartica. Oh, to be the scientists posting about the emperor penguin they saw.

Attached below is a map of my post and a photo of the Red Trillium from today.

What’s up ya johns,

Happy to report: it’s alive! Green had returned to my phenology spot in Centennial Woods. Small shrubbery is in bloom, ferns are starting to unfurl, and grasses are poking up. It’s beginning to become what it was when we first met 🥰. In, fact, it will most likely return to almost exactly how it was as the only major changes that happened over the winter were the few yellow birches that had snapped over. The human made stick shelter remains fully intact, as with all of the fallen and decaying logs.

One of the reasons I like my site is that it demonstrates the intersections of people and nature. The shelter embodies the culture of UVM: a little lawless, outdoorsy, creative, probably doing a lot of drugs.

As it represents such intersection, I do view myself as part of my site. I am a part of the human world that interacts with centennial, so the things I do have an impact there.

Here’s a quick sketch.

Hey freaks,

Popped into Centennial today to check on my tree. Sadly, there’s still no signs of budding or leafing. Yet, the weather is getting warmer and snow was hard to find in the woods today, so I’m sure change is just around the corner.

Here are some pics:

Hey freaks,

popped into centennial today to check on my phenology tree. The Red Oak is exactly as it was when I left it, o signs of leaves or flowering from the buds. There are still some dead leaves holding on from last years photosynthetic season. My guess is those leaves will drop once the buds begin to open up and new foliage begins to grow.

Here’s a photo of a bud and my iNaturalist post.

I took a trek in Centennial Woods today to look for a tree to monitor throughout this spring. Climbing up the wee hill near the old ROTC bunker, there was a little Northern Red Oak sitting right next to a large White Oak. I first spotted its leaves. They were all dry brown, and shriveled, but still resembled the quintessential pointy and oak shaped outline of the leaves of a Red Oak. Because the oak is still young, the bark had a Smooth, grey feel, like that of an American Beech. Unlike an American beech, there was the beginnings of a stripe running down its side.

I went to Centennial Woods the other day to look for proof of wildlife and found some pretty cool stuff! There were some clear deer tracks and some other stuff I had trouble identifying. There was a set of tracks that seemed to be in a diagonal walker pattern, it also had direct registering. The print was large, around 2 inches wide, and it had rounded pads with no claw. However, the were only four pads on each foot, each the same size, as opposed to having one large pad and a few smaller toes. With this odd paw shape, I could not come close to identifying it.

Hey everyone! I returned to my phenology spot today to see what it looked like after some snowfall. Burlington got a few inches overnight, so Centennial woods was somewhat of a winter wonderland. My spot had about 3 inches of fresh snow, a little less than some areas. My guess is that the moist bog melted some of the snow, and it didn’t pile up on itself as it did in dryer areas.

In terms of phenological changes, it was clear we are now fully in the thralls of winter. The Norway Maple that had held its leaves so far into December is finally bare, and the small green shrubbery mentioned in the last post is leafless as well. Yet, the area refuses to let go of all greenery. Scraping off the snow from on top of fallen logs revealed green moss still clinging on, and occasionally a fern poked through the snow on the floor.

I looked for tracks or other signs of wildlife, yet found nothing. However, there were some other mammals there… people, in fact! They were just boolin’ near the bog like Shrek.

That’s all for today folks, I’ll update again in some amount of time.

Returning to my phenology spot for the final time, I it had noticeably changed from the last time I was there. That stubborn Norway Maple had finally started to accept the seasons were changing, and only had 50% of the leaves it once did. A few Yellow Birches had blown over in a windstorm, snapping about halfway up and leaving the fallen limbs to litter the ground. Looking at the ground, the fallen leaves had not yet started to decay into humus, especially in the dryer areas. Ferns still persist, however something interesting has happened to them. They all are matted down, no longer standing up, but rather lay flat on the forest floor as if they’d all been trampled on. One theory for this is that a rainstorm had compressed all of the ferns to the floor. Another theory is that something happened that resulted in a loss of water in the cells of the ferns, causing a reduction of turgor pressure in the cells. Besides the ferns, the only other small plants existed on a hill above the swamp, a clump of knee to waste high deciduous shrubs still holding onto green leaves. there was animal activity in and around my site. While there, I saw two Pileated Woodpeckers, hammering away at a dead tree. There were very cool. I took lots of pictures, here is one:

Reflecting back on my time spent here, it’s hard to pick one favorite thing. I love the lush greenness and the way light streams through the trees in the morning or evening. I love the openness of the area, how it allows you to peer into far corners of the woods. I love staring up at the towering White Pines in the area, watching their tops sway in the breeze. Yet, I think all of these elements combine to give the area one significant characteristic. They serve to animate it; to make it move, to make it breathe. Between the lush greenery, the swaying trees, and the beams of sunlight, it is a place that feels very much like life.

I returned back to my Hometown of Belmont, Massachusetts for break this thanksgiving. While there, I made my way to a place I frequented often as a full time resident, a local conservation area dubbed “Rock Meadow”, referred to on Google maps as “Beaver Brook North”. the specific location I chose is near a water tower on top of a hill. The flora consists mostly of eastern cottonwoods in the overstay and gangly, thorny bushes in the understory. It is much dryer than my spot in Burlington and has much less species diversity. Though I was moved by the Honorable Harvest, I did not know what to get it for a gift. Thus, I thanked the land and said my goodbyes.

Walking through Centennial Woods to get to my phenology spot, the whole forest felt still. The trees were stoic and frozen, and, other than the occasional plane or bird call, it was all relatively silent. Then, as soon I sat quietly and began to observe, it all came to life. The trees that just moments ago seemed to be hidden in a shell began to animate themselves, rustling and swaying in the breeze. The birds started to call, one even hopped around on the forest floor 10 feet from me. And, of course, the mosquitos came out too. In that 15 minutes of swatting away bugs, I realized why the woods seemed to come alive when I set my bag down and observed. Imagine being in a very loud room for an extended period of time. Maybe there is a baby crying or a DJ playing music over large speakers. Once you step outside that room, the quiet feels quiet. That is what stepping into a forest is. Our world, at least the human part of it, is very loud. Sirens are constantly blazing, drivers are constantly honking, we have assignments due at midnight and people to interact with in almost every moment. But the woods is quiet. At least to us. It speaks constantly too, but our ears are so attuned to the language and heightened volume of our everyday lives to hear it very well. It takes a moment to stop and listen very closely to hear what it has to say, to know that it is very much alive.

In my observation, I did notice a few differences in the area. Firstly, the long grasses that matted much of the swampiest portions of the spot were no longer there. Neither was much of the honeysuckle that featured prominently in the understory a month ago. Ferns, mosses, and other short flora still dotted the floor, but it was noticeably less green. Additionally, coming at no surprise to anyone, the yellow birch that occupied to swamp had dropped all their leaves. The only trees in the area that were still photosynthesizing were the hemlocks and white pine that lined the edge of the basin, as well as one stubborn norway maple that sat slightly elevated, southwest of the wettest area.

Here’s my birds eye view drawing: