Category: Uncategorized

Without any snow cover in the immediate area, I can now see the cones, twigs, saplings, mosses, and other ground cover, dead and alive. Notably, there is an abundance of spruce cones on the ground, ranging from 12-20cm (fig. 1). Some are stripped of their scales, however, likely the work of some small mammal (fig. 2). Long cones, singly attached, non-prickly needles, and droopy branches indicate that the surrounding trees are Norway spruces (Picea abies); I haven’t seen any other cones indicating the presence of other spruce species (Arbor Day Foundation, n.d.). The enigmatic, somewhat birch-like trees observed in March have not yet leafed out, nor can I see any buds from where I was standing; the branches are very high up. With the help of iNaturalist, I can more confidently place these trees within the genus Populus (California Academy of Sciences, 2008). Further research has suggested that they are white poplar (Populus alba), an invasive species in Vermont, but they may also be some species of aspen (Vermont Invasives, n.d.). Hopefully I can identify these trees with more certainty once they bear leaves. Eastern white pine (Pinus strobus) and American beech (Fagus grandifolia) saplings are also frequent in this immediate area, yet most are no taller than a foot or two currently. The beech saplings are showing their long, pointed buds (fig. 3). I haven’t noticed any changes to the trees between last week and today.  

Lots of different herbaceous organism cover this woodland floor; I don’t think I’ve never noticed nor appreciated how much diversity and co-existence there can be among the organisms in a relatively small area. Among the crowd stands a few stalky withered flowers. One is quite tall and branches extensively, ending in clusters of hollow-looking, star-like structures; some of these are covered in a gray fuzz (fig. 4). Another herbaceous plant has red/green serrated leaves in pairs of two at each leaf node, and at some nodes a pair of stalks bearing withered flowers are attached (fig. 5). There were no noticeable changes in these plants between last week and today. It will be interesting to see what happens to these apparently withered plants as spring turns to summer. 

A mosaic of mosses also dominates much of the ground cover and creeps up some of the nearby trees. The mosses in the deeper soils look taller than those on nearby trees and rocky substrates. These mosses are orange, yellow, and many shades of green. One of the mosses in the soil is dark green and seems a bit taller than most of its neighboring mosses (fig. 6). iNaturalist classified it as some type of aloe moss (family Polytrichaceae), but it dosen’t look like its whorled leaves are splayed out like they appear to be in other photos of this family of moss (California Academy of Sciences, 2008). I wonder if these moss’s leaves will unfurl with time, like a flower blooming.  

Among the moss was an Isabella tiger moth caterpillar (Pyrrharctia isabella), known commonly as the woolly bear, curled up on its side; it was almost equal parts black and orange, with slightly more orange (fig. 7). According to Yankee legend, the ratio of orange to black on woolly bears is a predictor of the severity of the coming winter, with more black being indicative of a longer, harder winter (Holland, 2010). If anything, woolly bears’ coloration is more telling of how short the last winter was; an earlier spring gives woolly bears more time to eat before hibernating for the winter and the more it can eat, the more it grows. This growth results in the caterpillar being more orange than black (the sections of its body which grow during this time produce orange bristles) (Holland, 2010). I spotted this little guy last week, but he wasn’t there today.  

References 

Arbor Day Foundation. (n.d.). What tree is that?. Retrieved April 29, 2020, from https://www.arborday.org/trees/whattree/index.cfm 

California Academy of Sciences. (2008). iNaturalist (Version 2.8.7) [Mobile application software]. 

Holland, M. (2010). Naturally curious: A photographic field guide and month-by-month journey through the fields, woods, and marshes of New England. North Pomfret, VT: Trafalgar Square Books. 

Vermont Invasives. (n.d.). White poplar. https://vtinvasives.org/invasive/white-poplar 

My new phenology blog spot for the remainder of the semester is about 40 yards away from the east-facing door of my father’s house in Williamstown, Orange County, VT. On this day it was warm and sunny with just a little wind, and it had snowed two days prior. The ground was still covered in snow, so I did not detect nor record any ground flora during this observation period. The ground was surprisingly free of mammal tracks, despite it having been two days since the last snowfall. I would imagine any tracks were obscured from melting and the marks made by the snow which fell from the canopy. The immediate area contains a dense community of tall spruce trees; any small mammals in the area, like the squirrels and chipmunks I’ve seen around, may have remained in the canopy for a while without an incentive to traverse the snow-covered ground. While I didn’t see any small mammal tracks, I did see cone scales littering the snow at the base of a few trees (fig. 1).   

As noted, the trees in this area were mostly spruce (fig. 2), but I have yet to determine the exact species; hopefully I can find some cones once the snow melts (California Academy of Sciences, 2008). The bark of these spruces is flaky and colored in different mixtures of yellow, brown, and grey (fig. 3). I wonder if these variances in flake size and color are a product of genetic variability within the group or are indicative of different species. There were two other trees I saw in the immediate area which were completely enigmatic to me; they were almost as tall as the surrounding spruce, with dark brown, vertically furrowed bark at the bottom which turned white and birch-like farther up the trunk (fig. 4). The lower branches seemed dead, and the higher ones looked like they had a haphazard, alternate branching pattern.  

There were also some birds out and about on this bright, sunny day. I could clearly hear the warning call of a black-capped chickadee as well as a descending minor third call coming from another pair of birds.  As it happens, this call and response came from black-capped chickadees as well.     

References 

California Academy of Sciences. (2008). iNaturalist (Version 2.8.7) [Mobile application software].  

Macaulay Library. (2010). Black-capped chickadee song [Song]. On Voices of eastern backyard birds [Album].  

There seemed to be few phenological changes since my last visit to the Projection in January. On this warm February day, the lichens and mosses still clung to the trees, bright green in the morning sun. The trees in the immediate area were still bare of leaves, and deeper in the woods, the old, crinkly, brownish-green leaves which hung on to some deciduous trees were fewer in number and have since turned a reddish-brown hue; many of the greenish leaves could be seen on the ground. In fact, the snow was littered with twigs, leaves, needles, and cones from the trees above. I suspect this was a result of the high winds we’ve been experiencing this week as well as the large amount of precipitation which has fallen over the past month. The green ferns I saw in January were buried by the snow this time around, but the fertile fronds still poked through; I also saw goldenrod (genus Solidago) in this area (fig. 1) (California Academy of Sciences, 2008).

While the snow in the immediate area was too crusty and debris-littered to capture any tracks, in the fielded area nearby I found a set of side-by-side footprints which looked as if a bounder had come through; there were only two prints (fig. 2). The straddle of the tracks was 13cm and the length of the track itself was 11cm. The distance between tracks varied but was as great as 2-3ft by my estimate. However, as I followed the tracks further across the field, I saw they actually occurred in sets of four, and that what I had taken for as a bounder was in fact a hopper with a set of the larger tracks preceding a smaller pair lined up side-by-side (fig. 3). With this information, the tracks likely belonged to a gray squirrel (Levine, 2014). These tracks led all the way across the field and into the woods, where I was deterred from my pursuit by the warning calls of black-capped chickadees.  

Also near the Projection was a mess of tracks which I presumed belonged to a squirrel(s); once again the tracks consisted of two large feet preceding to smaller feet (Levine, 2014). However, some sets of tracks contained anywhere from 2-5 footprints, suggesting that there was more than one squirrel, or that one squirrel was running all over the place or moving in an irregular manner (fig. 4). In this area I saw tracks under a fallen tree which had made a little covered area in which I would imagine some squirrel(s) would den up (fig. 5). I also found a hole in the ground nearby, which was likely an entrance to subnivean tunnels (fig. 4) (Holland, 2010). After seeing a red squirrel in the area during this visit, determining that the tracks were those of a squirrel, and finding out that red squirrels commonly make subnivean tunnels, I would imagine that the prints and potential dens belonged to a red squirrel (Tamiasciurus hudsonicus). Red squirrels remain active in the winter and commonly live around conifers in which they can make nests called dreys (Holland, 2010; Vermont Center for Ecostudies, n.d.). These critters will also eat sap and conifer seeds, often storing the latter for consumption during the winter (Holland, 2010). While red squirrels are primarily satiated by conifer seeds, they also eat berries, mushrooms, and bird eggs, as well as the nestlings of birds including Bicknell’s Thrush in some habitats (Vermont Center for Ecostudies, n.d.). Red squirrels are diurnal (active during the day) and are most active in the early morning and late afternoon (Vermont Center for Ecostudies, n.d.). Predators of the red squirrel include birds of prey, coyotes, foxes, weasels, and bobcats (Holland, 2010).  

There were also many birds out and about, singing and cawing on this day. However, once I reached the Projection, I heard the warning call of a black-capped chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) and soon the sounds of birds became more distant (M. McDonald, personal communication, February 6, 2020). I also heard the cawing of crows as well as other interesting calls, but I could not identify nor see the callers more often than not.

References 

California Academy of Sciences. (2008). iNaturalist (Version 2.8.7) [Mobile application software].  

Holland, M. (2010). Naturally curious: A photographic field guide and month-by-month journey through the fields, woods, and marshes of New England. North Pomfret, VT: Trafalgar Square Books. 

Levine, L. (2014). Mammal tracks and scat life-size pocket guide: Tracking through all seasons. East Dummerston, VT: Heartwood Press. 

Vermont Center for Ecostudies. (n.d.). Red Squirrel. https://vtecostudies.org/wildlife/mammals/red-squirrel/ 

During my latest visit to the Projection, I was unable to identify any tracks in the immediate area; it was the second day of warmer weather (around 32°F) and it had been four days since it last snowed. There were a lot of divots and dimples in the snow that may have been warm and melted tracks but to me they look more like snow that had fallen from the trees above. When I arrived at the Projection I heard the “chicka-dee-dee” call of what were most likely black-capped chickadees as well as the cawing of crows. However, soon after my arrival these sounds stopped. I wonder if they fled because of my presence or if the time of day I visited (16:08-16:42) was when the birds began to settle in for the night. Even though it seemed like I was alone, I was accompanied by the many snow fleas (fig. 1, Hypogastrura nivicolor) in the snow around me (Holland, 2010)! 

At my site, almost no leaves were left on any of the deciduous trees; the reddish-brown crinkled ones I did see may have been caught between branches if they weren’t truly attached. Moss still clings to many of the coniferous trees in the area and I saw lichens on both deciduous and coniferous trees. I photographed two deciduous twigs from the beings around me. The first (fig. 2) I was able to identify as a barberry; I recalled it was barberry from when it still bore its characteristically tear drop-shaped leaves. Further research allowed me to verify that this plant is a Japanese barberry (Berberis thunbergii) because it bore smooth-margined leaves a few months ago and the twig has three tines (you can see one long one and two shorter ones in figure 2) (“Barberry,” n.d.; “Japanese barberry,” n.d.).

I also photographed the reddish-grey twig of a deciduous tree with reddish buds and opposite branching (fig. 3). With the help of a few online sources I was able to narrow it down to a species of maple; further research led me to the conclusion that the twig belongs to a Norway maple (Acer platanoides) (Fitzgerald, 2010; “boxelder,” n.d.). This made sense because I recall seeing black-spotted maple leaves during earlier visits to the projection.  

In the canopy I could see little cones hanging from a conifer nearby; an analysis of the short, flat needles the branches held led me to believe that this tree is an Eastern hemlock (fig. 5, Tsuga canadensis) (“eastern hemlock,” n.d.). However, I wasn’t completely confident in my identification, so I consulted an online dichotomous key and some other sources which helped me confirm my suspicion (“What Tree Is That?,” n.d.).  

Also noteworthy were the green ferns still poking out of the snow (fig. 6)! I also saw many of the same bead fronds I had encountered in this area before (fig. 7). In addition, there was a plant close to the fertile frond which I could not identify (fig. 8). I initially supposed it was a bead frond without its beads or a winter wildflower. In the field, if seemed like most of the remaining herbaceous plants were short ones as compared to the tall Joe-Pye weeds I remembered seeing during previous visits. However, this observation relies completely on my memory, for I didn’t take any measurements of the grasses in that area.  

References 

Barberry. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://vtfishandwildlife.com/learn-more/landowner-resources/liep-invasive-species-program/terrestrial-invasive-plants/barberry 

boxelder. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://dendro.cnre.vt.edu/dendrology/lab1.cfm?t1=2 

eastern hemlock. (n.d.). Retrieved from http://dendro.cnre.vt.edu/dendrology/syllabus/factsheet.cfm?ID=116 

Fitzgerald, H. (2019, October 19). A Guide for Identifying Trees During Stick Season. Kids VT. Retrieved from https://www.kidsvt.com/ 

Holland, M. (2010). Naturally curious: A photographic field guide and month-by-month journey through the fields, woods, and marshes of New England. North Pomfret, VT: Trafalgar Square Books.  

Japanese barberry. (n.d.). Retrieved from http://dendro.cnre.vt.edu/dendrology/syllabus/factsheet.cfm?ID=374 

The many faces of a twig. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://phyllotaxy.com/natural-history/trees/twigs-buds/ 

What Tree Is That? (n.d.). Retrieved from https://www.arborday.org/trees/whattree/ 

While I live and go to school in the same state, my hometown of Williamstown, Vermont has a notably different sense of place than that of Burlington/at UVM. At home, my sense of place relies heavily on experience and social interactions; in general, I have little to no knowledge about the history of my neighborhood nor my town, nor have I taken the time (nor had the knowledge) to assess my town through an ecological lens. Prior to my first semester at UVM, I’ve understood my town as my rural home in the middle of Vermont; in my community (as I perceive it), there are hunters, townees, farmers, and everyone else, and many obsess over high school sports (especially basketball). In my high school (with 350 people grades 6 through 12), these values were reflected; I always felt like there was an emphasis on athletics over arts and academia. These perceptions of my community are the main factors of how I perceive my town on the whole – that is, as small in scope with limited opportunity and limited understanding of broad, global concepts. It is important to note that this is my sense of my town based on my own biased perceptions. I’ve also had many positive experiences in Williamstown that have countered the frustration I’ve often experienced as a result of my seemingly close-minded town; I still keep in touch with my three best friends from high school, and the time I’ve spent and people I’ve met through theatre and band comprise some of my fondest memories of my town and high school. My time in Williamstown has shaped my identity through the contrast between what I value and what my community seemingly values. For instance, I feel like I identify most as a scholar opposed to the common title/identity of athlete (although I did play sports in high school). While I often feel resentment towards the setting of my upbringing, Williamstown is still my home, and I think I’ll always appreciate it as such.  

My education thus far at UVM has made me realize that there is more than just this social element to my sense of place of Williamstown, Vermont. One of the most interesting facets of sense of place to me is the ecological/biophysical setting. Thus far, I’ve always had an experiential view of my home, I recall the time I’ve spent in the woods surrounding my yard with my friends, cousins, and sibling, the forts we built, and the trails we blazed or followed. Additionally, I recognize that some of the land is used for farming, and that hunters often trek through the woods in search of prey. However, I’ve never stopped to consider exactly what species hunters hunt for, how agriculture impacts the land and water locally, and what the organismic composition of the woods I’ve been in so often is. With the new knowledge I am continually accruing at UVM in the domains of ecology, history, society, economics, and critical thinking/epistemology, I think my sense of place in my home of Williamstown, Vermont will continue to grow and develop beyond what is already established so that I may understand the setting of my upbringing as more than just the biased perceptions based on my experiences.

The characteristics of a geographic area and the experiences one has there often contribute to one’s sense of place, that is, the connection between a person and an area of land. At the Projection, I find that the phenological changes I observe correlate to my own knowledge of biology, ecology, and history. I continue to learn from this area in Centennial Woods as it changes throughout the seasons and each visit is reflective of the new knowledge I gain from books and lecture. For example, just today I took note of fertile fronds, the reproductive structures of ferns like sensitive ferns which lack sori (spore-bearing structures) on the underside of their fronds. As I continue to visit the Projection, I become more attentive to the organisms and natural characteristics of the place, and the Projection becomes more integral to my learning of phenology.  

Sense of place can also be described at different scales. Alone, I feel that the Projection and my visits are a piece of my experience as a student at UVM; they contribute to my pursuit of knowledge and familiarity with the area. Sometimes, the associated solitude also brings a reprieve from the bustle of campus. However, when I sit there and listen, I can hear planes fly overhead as well as nearby traffic and other machinery. This reminds me that Centennial Woods is a place not just within my UVM experience, but my experience as a Burlington resident. When juxtaposed, I feel a looming sense of obligation and stress when I trek through the woods in search of signs of life, often not knowing what to look for or what I am looking at (and hearing). In contrast, I tend to associate my off campus/downtown experience with recreation, free time, and company. Altogether, these two sides of the “Burlington Resident” coin (my student life and social life) are a piece in my sense of place within the entire state (in which I was raised). Right now, Burlington feels like a densely populated urban center full of opportunity, independence, and new experiences (including those in Centennial Woods). In comparison, my hometown (Williamstown, VT) feels small yet significant, and the time I spend in Centennial Woods is slightly reminiscent of my experiences in the woods in my backyard. As a part of Burlington, Centennial Woods is an allusion to home, and my familiarity/experiences in both Burlington and Williamstown comprise parts of my experience and sense of belonging in the state of Vermont.  

How societies and different people value a place may vary across cultures and time periods. Such is the case with Centennial Woods. Historically, Centennial Woods wasn’t always a natural area nor was it valued for its ecological importance. Prior to deforestation and settlement by European settlers, the land where Centennial Woods now stands was likely all forested and used by the Abenaki Native Americans for subsistence. The Abenakis viewed the land as a living entity with which giving was just as necessary as taking. The Projection, if it existed as it does now, likely would be appreciated more spiritually than it was later in history. However, as Europeans pushed the native peoples out of the area, the land was simply viewed as a supply of commodities made for pillaging; deforestation for pastureland and timber ran rampant throughout the state. This unbridled utilitarian view, which began with European settlement in the 18^th century and ran well into (and beyond) the 20^th century was checked by conservationist movements beginning in the early 20^th century. Centennial Woods was eventually recognized as a natural area after it was bought by UVM. However, before UVM made a deal with the Vermont Land Trust to not develop the land, Centennial Woods was not treated as a natural area. The land UVM had acquired shrank to make way for development of other buildings and parking lots on campus, and was a site for dumping fill material, oil, and even cadavers from the hospital. While it seemed as if Centennial Woods was valued for its natural beauty and use for recreation, it was still seen as a commodity for human use. Today, now that the land cannot be developed except under special circumstances, Centennial Woods is wholly a place for recreation and academia for the community. Throughout its history, Centennial Woods’ meaning as a place has clearly changed numerous times.  

During my hour-long visit to my phenology site in Centennial Woods, I was able to hear (and occasionally see) some of the organisms nearby. At the beginning of my visit, I was able to identify a black-throated bird with a brownish white underbelly. From my previous visit I was able to identify this as a Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus). Additionally, I spotted a blue bird with a white fringe along the bottom of its tail fly across the field; it was likely a Blue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata) but it was too far away for me to tell for sure. Briefly, I viewed a bird with a silhouette similar to what is drawn in my field notes; my drawing and observation skills are too underdeveloped to identify the exact type of bird, but it was likely from the Order Falconiformes. As heard in the audio sample, there was another bird which I did not see that made a call I have not heard on previous visits to my site and I can only say the call’s owner belongs in Phylum Chordata. I also heard a rubbing sound that presumably came from an organism in Subphylum Hexapoda or at least in Phylum Arthropoda. I also befriended a Clover Mite (Bryobia praetiosa) who crawled around on my hand and journal for quite some time. At the fallen log which intersects the trail at one point (seen on the included map), I noticed some holes bored into the rotting, wet wood. I am unsure if these marks were left by a chordate or an insect. Due to the number of Black-capped Chickadees I have seen during my visits, I would imagine that these birds are often found in Centennial Woods, perhaps year-round. Birds might be quite active in Centennial Woods (and thus around my phenology site) at this time of year because they are finding, consuming, and/or storing food to prepare for overwintering or migrating. Other insects and arthropods might be out looking for food as well as mates at this time of year. This would explain the distinct rubbing in the included audio clip as well as the general hum of a collection of insects (or arthropods presumably) in the field adjacent to my phenology place. 

Since my previous visit, the generally needle-covered ground has become more littered with fallen leaves, especially those from birches, oaks, and maples. The Norway Maple to my left (as I look out upon the field) still hangs onto its leaves, although they are yellow-green to orange-yellow now (they were very green during my last visit). The leaves still attached to the oak trees are yellow-brown and red. The low undergrowth (ferns and grasses) are still green and show no signs of yellowing; some of the shrubby undergrowth bears green leaves while others completely lack leaves. Of particular note, the Barberry bushes, which are quite plentiful in this area, are displaying leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow. In the field, the grasses are mostly yellow and brown, showing little of the green seen in prior visits.  

As previously noted, the field, which was more apparently wet during this visit, is lower in elevation relative to the surrounding upward slopes on the east and west. In the north and the south, the land seems more low-lying; perhaps this provides a channel/direction for water to flow. The soil in the spot upon which I sat was damp. The needles that littered the ground likely promote an acidic soil, but there are also many leaves from deciduous trees that contribute to the organic layer of the soil and may influence pH too.  

Mapping this site, which from now on I will call the Projection, proved difficult – it’s hard to capture a bird’s-eye view from the ground – but it did provoke me to take a look at the more static aspects of my surroundings, such as some significant dead trees and stumps. It was also enlightening to assess the topography of the area surrounding the Projection; it gave me an idea of where and how water might flow (or not flow) in and out of the area. I wonder what processes created this distinct geographic outcrop… 

About 0.29 miles along the trail head of the path through Centennial Woods off of Catamount Drive, there lies a projection of elevated land (a peninsula or plateau if you will) extending into a field in the middle of the woods. In journeying to this spot, one may cross Centennial Brook, but that depends on the path one chooses. There is a comfort in knowing that many paths can ultimately lead to the same place. This projection is forested, but just beyond the extent of the woods one finds themselves in a dry field full of grasses and cattails. However, from the peninsula one may feel sheltered by the surrounding forest despite the proximity of the expansive field and the walking trail (which lies directly behind a visitor if they face the field). The end of the projection is bulb-like, providing a circular platform upon which one may sit upon damp earth, observe, listen, and think. The plateau is essentially bare of trees and vegetation and is covered in pine needles; it is obvious where past observers have tread to reach this location. Whether the plateau was cleared on purpose or naturally is unknown, but the location feels central, as if it were made for an interaction between humans and nature. After a long enough period of time, movement occurs about the static observer accompanied by the chirps and cries from the abundance of birds in the area. On an overcast and windy day, such as it was on Sunday, October 6th, 2019, towering trees protected the organisms and the accompanying observer from the winds, which could be heard whooshing above; even in the field, the winds were assuaged by the trees which encircled it. Whether these noises were carried by wind or were simply nearby, one could also hear the cars presumably traveling along Interstate 89. In this location, halfway between the main trail and seldom-trotted ground, the songs of birds stood out against the acoustic retorts of mechanization and civilization. This pulled the observer between two worlds, or perhaps serves as a demonstration of the inseparability of humans from nature, and vice versa.  Below is the field journal from this visit along with images of the field notes and the location itself. 

6 October 2019 1327-1405 

Centennial Woods, Burlington, Chittenden Co., Vermont 

From the trail head of Centennial Woods, I walked 0.29 miles along the trail bearing left at every intersection until I reached a forested projection into a field on my right. This is where I made my observations at 272 ft in elevation.  

Weather: Overcast, windy, 54°F 

Habitats: A downward sloping, forested hill eventually giving way to a field then turning back into forest and sloping upward.  

Vegetation: In the forest, wood ferns and grass were dominant along the needle-covered floor which bore few leaves. The canopy primarily consisted of coniferous trees with some deciduous trees such as Norway Maples and Paper Birches; these deciduous trees still bear green leaves although some of the maple leaves are beginning to turn orange. Barberry and other smaller shrubs persisted in this area too. The field was mostly grass, with Cattails and Joe-Pye Weeds dominant among the taller vegetation. Some of the older Cattails were brown-leaved and lacked their brown furry structure.  

General Commentary: Insect activity was nominal or unobserved. Mammal activity was nominal or unobserved. Avian activity was plentiful, though mostly went unobserved. During the observational period, a presumably large bird gave long, sharp, high cries across the field (outside the range of visual observation). I observed at least three birds with black heads and throats, white necks, and grey bodies – these were identified as Black-capped Chickadees; their throaty “dee” call and sharp tweets could be heard. I also observed a woodpecker of the genus Dryobates pecking on primarily coniferous tree branches it seemed. The bird had a black head, white underbelly/body, and a patchwork of grey, black, brown, and white on its back. This bird gave short, clear tweets.  

Species List:  

Plants: 

Eutrochium 

Typha 

Dryopteris 

Birds: 

Poecile atricapillus 

Dryobates  

Mammals: None observed 

Insects: None observed