A UVM blog A Small Stream in Nolde Forest

I’ll be doing this part of the assignment in reverse. Since I started my blog at home, I’m going to compare it to the place in Vermont I had originally chosen. Both of my places are centered around running water. It’s soothing to me, plus there’s usually so much life to be found around a stream.

My place in Vermont is part of the LaPlatte River Nature Park, a pocket of forested land bordering the river in Shelburne. I only saw the LaPlatte River once in autumn, and I only visited the Pennsylvania stream in winter, so it will be difficult to compare the phenology of the two places. I’ll do my best.

The LaPlatte is wider than the stream in Nolde, meaning more sunlight reaches the water, so I saw more plants among the rocks and on the riverbed there. Nolde may have had more aquatic plants in the fall, but I didn’t see any dead ones. In Pennsylvania, the stream flows at the bottom of a narrow, steep valley, so there isn’t much floodplain to speak of. The LaPlatte is bordered by a steep slope on one side, but on the other is a wide low-lying forest carpeted with ferns. One short exploration of the LaPlatte turned up plenty of evidence of wildlife use, including a chewed-open acorn and bear scat. Over several visits to Nolde, I’ve only seen a few birds and a small river bug. This might be related to the heavily trafficked trail right next to the creek. The forest around the LaPlatte centers around oaks and black birches, while the forest shading the stream in Nolde is made up of beeches and yellow birches.

While I’m fond of both my places, I’m excited to return to Vermont’s natural landscape at the end of the month. This project will be behind me, but I’m going to revisit the LaPlatte River. I had big plans to make walking there and sitting on the rock a morning ritual, and this semester I just might make that happen.

Near the turn of the twentieth century, a wealthy industrialist and conservationist named Joseph Nolde purchased a plot of abandoned farmland in Berks County. When he and his family first saw the meadows, a single white pine stood among the grasses. Nolde was inspired by this one pine to create a “luxury forest”, hopefully resembling the coniferous forests of his native Westphalia. At first, he undertook the project of reforestation himself. He soon realized his goals were too ambitious for one man. Nolde hired William Kohout, a master forester from Austria, to design, plant, and maintain his woods. The natural area became Nolde’s pride and joy; nothing made him happier than bringing visitors to enjoy the forest with him.

Joseph Nolde did not live to see his forest mature, as he died in 1916. He would have been delighted to find out that his forest has become one of Berks County’s natural treasures. Since its acquisition by the commonwealth of Pennsylvania in the 1960s, it’s been used as an environmental education center for students and a state park.

I’ll admit I was a bit suspicious of the event map at first. It seemed confusing, and like it would probably be much easier to take a few pictures and type out descriptions. The process of making this one, though, was so fun and calming that I’m planning to start making them for myself. I worried that nothing would happen in the time I set aside to make my map, and nothing did, at least not on the scale of what I usually consider an Event. Broadening my definition of “event” to include tiny happenings that only really matter to leaves and bugs showed me how full of life and activity my place is.

The few bits of vegetation looked about the same today as last time I visited. Even though the past week has been on the dry side, the creek had crept out from its banks, turning the trail into an icy, muddy obstacle course and making leaf soup along one of its shallower banks. Since it was a beautifully sunny Sunday, the dog walkers and trail enjoyers were out in force. I missed the wildlife, but it was nice to see so many people happy in the woods.

Dear Reader, 

        If you take the stairs up and over the waterfall, follow the trail into the woods (making sure to duck under the log helpfully marked with a painting of a duck), and wander along the river past the pines and the beeches and the small wooden footbridges, you’ll come to a natural dam of fallen trees across a small, clear stream. Water burbles between the two logs on its way out of the serene pool above them, carrying away any sediment and leaving only pebbles and sand for a bed. On the banks, leaves carpet the ground, and a slushy mix of snow and meltwater drips off the bushes. A long-dead tree hosts plenty of life, with woodpecker holes decorating its trunk and funnel-web spider villages filling the cracks. This morning’s snow has given way to a warm afternoon, and all the moisture in the air gives the forest a cozy layer of fog. On the conglomerate rocks scattered around the area, the mosses and lichen seem delighted with the December humidity.  

        I’ve been to this forest before. It’s the closest natural area to my house, so my dad brought me and my sister to hike and play in the creek when we were kids. In middle school, my class took a field trip here to learn about our local forests. I remember being so excited that we got to visit my woods for school and showing my friends cool trees and rocks I remembered from walks with my dad. In high school, I came here with my cross country team for trail-running practices, first as a new runner and later as a captain. The phenology project seemed like a good time to revisit the forest; I’ve been away for some time now, and it will be nice to come back.

Here are a few photos from my first visit!