Isabella’s NR1 Phenology Project

I’m a liar and I’m sorry.

Oops. Well, I guess I lied that it was my last post. I’m back from the dead to report on an enthralling update from the “ City Nature Challenge iNaturalist BioBlitz.” On the Sunday of this four-day extravaganza, my friends and I decided to venture out into Centennial Woods to hunt for some interesting species. In total, I think I racked up close to 50 observations. Unremarkable, but still enough to make a solid dent in the competition.

Since most of the trees in Centennial Woods were still lacking in leaves, I concentrated most of my observational energy on the ground. And oh my! You never truly notice how many varieties of small bushy plants there are until they are clogging up your camera roll. I didn’t know the vast majority of the species I encountered, so I’m hoping iNaturalist can help with that.

SHRUB SHRUB SHRUB SHRUB SHRUB

Although iNaturalist is a great resource for identification, it can often be unreliable. Someone on the app once called my tree “Evangeline” a Yellow Birch. Let’s just say she was more than insulted. In terms of other iNaturalist grievances, I couldn’t figure out how to upload sound recordings from my phone onto the app. It was a bit of a bummer since I caught some great bird songs that I wanted to share. At least now I know that you have to record sound directly through the app. Oh well.

On another note, here are some fun standouts from our adventure:

We found some raccoon and “squirrel?” tracks, as well as a female Common Redpoll right outside of my dorm room.

I was particularly excited about the bird because I got to use my brand-new bird identification book to look it up on the spot!

Final-ogy Post

It’s been a while since I visited my exact phenology spot, but we carved out some time to go on April 20th. Since my spot was now underwater, this visit presented me with some unforeseen obstacles. The last time I had gone, the shoreline was small, but most definitely not to this degree. The high tide was most likely caused by the large amount of snow that melted these past few weeks. Our snowy and dismal March had plunged into a couple of unexpectedly warm spring days. I’m sure that this phonological whiplash caused all sorts of natural imbalances… Wet feet were only an inconvenient byproduct.

In terms of other changes, the high tide had shuffled things around a bit. My sit spot log (as well as some other debris) was now pushed back to the surrounding treeline. Even submerged, the shoreline still had some evidence of blossoming spring. Although the trees had yet to bloom, the silver maple’s buds looked almost ready to pop.

FLOWERS!

The edge of the shoreline was dotted with little dandelion-like flowers. I discovered that these were the blossoms of the next generation of coltsfoot! How exciting!

BIRDS!

Oh, and the birds! As I drew my spot, I kept my Merlin Bird ID app open and boy oh boy were there some treasures!

I caught a Carolina Wren, a Song Sparrow, a Tufted Titmouse, and a White Breasted Nuthatch, and even saw an elegant Canada Goose going for a relaxing swim.

Some Final Reflections

I must admit that I have become a bit attached to my little strip of shoreline during this project. I was sad to say goodbye, so I spent some time there just sitting, drawing, and relishing a little relaxation before the chaos of finals.

The people around me seemed to be on a similar wavelength. Students were hammocking and talking, or just enjoying the sunshine. Like me, they were probably here to forget about the world for the while. Perhaps this speaks to the intersection between nature and the culture of Vermont. It is impossible to move fast in this state. Everything is far apart, slow, and drowsy. My mom and I call it “Vermont Time.” Growing up in Manhattan, the days whipped by at lightning speed. In Vermont, life seems to operate in slow motion. I decided to come to school here because I needed something to slow me down. My spot does just the trick.

While I sketched my picture, I had the time to memorize all the familiar landmarks which I had come to know. The silver maple, the jagged rocks, the green ash, my soggy sit log, and the ever-present Northern White Cedars.

I’m not sure if I would consider myself to be a part of my spot, but the time I have spent there has certainly made it a part of me – And, perhaps, those two things are one and the same.

See you later tree people :)

Spring? Is that you?

My third visit to see Evangeline was somewhat out of the norm.

I went on April 7th with my mom, who had swung by to pick me up for Easter weekend. This meant I had to explain to her that we had to swing by Rock Point to observe a tree. “No, we don’t have to do anything with the tree, we just have to look at it.” Luckily, I got to show her my phenology spot on arguably one of the nicest days we had since the start of NR2. It was beautiful, blissfully clear, cool, and very windy. Better yet, the clear skies meant we were finally able to observe the mountains across Lake Champlain without a haze of fog.

My phenology spot was absolutely drowned in water. Also listen to that wind!

Evangeline was looking as beautiful as ever, however, she was feeling slightly resistant to the awakening of springtime. She appeared to be much the same, however slightly less green since our last visit. Most of the moss on her bark had dried out to a brown, and there didn’t appear to be any progress in terms of budding. However, the rapidly evolving landscape is a good indication that Evangeline will be feeling greener soon.

In terms of other bits and pieces of phenological observation, the birds were absolutely going beserk during this visit, and little bits of green were popping through the ground :)

(Also enjoy a video of a cute chipmunk )

Date #2 with Evangeline

After a thrilling maple sugaring lab on the 23rd, Lauren Elise and I broke off to visit our Rock Point Phenology Spots. Walking over, mud and melting snow bogged down my every step, and the cold rain continued to mist up my glasses. Although we were all cold, wet, and slightly miserable, it felt for the first time as though the world had an “idea” of Spring. Just listen to those happy birds!

A very happy Northern Cardinal

When we arrived to the spot, Lake Champlain was a fog of calm water, and fresh moss green had covered every spare log, tree, or rock.

My lovely Evangeline was looking quite dapper as ever in her new mossy green coat.

After some research, I discovered that this type of moss is known as “Twisted Moss” which is a species of Syntrichia. It also has the colloquial name of “Star Moss,” (which I find to be highly romantic.)

In addition to her new look, Evangeline’s buds were also beginning to look slightly more… robust? I spotted a hint of green on one of them, which seemingly confirmed my suspicion that Evangeline was getting revved up for Springtime.

Other than those two differences, Evangeline remains as stately and beautiful as ever.

I get a little “stumped” by trees

Let’s get excited people, we’re going to go looking for a tree!

For this prompt, I chose a Northern Red Oak on the outskirts of my phenology spot. I had to search a little farther out than preferable because there was a lack of the desired tree species near the shoreline. However, I did find a hearty-looking hardwood along our path that I thought would do nicely.

Since this tree and I are going to be spending some quality time together over the next couple of weeks, I thought we should get to know each other on a first-name basis. Therefore, I christened my tree by the name of “Evangeline.”

Who are you Evangeline?

At first, Evangeline’s gray mossy made me think that she was some kind of maple, however, I soon noticed that she did not have opposite branching. Additionally, her bark seemed too deeply furrowed for her to be a maple variety.

The ultimate telltale sign that we were dealing with a Northern Red Oak was Evangeline’s buds. On the end of most small twigs, there were clusters of scaly pointed buds, which ultimately disqualified the round-budded White Oak.

Evangeline is a real budding beauty!

Here is a sassy picture of Evangeline!

Squish…squish…squish

Our small group went out tracking with iNaturalist in Centennial Woods on the afternoon of February 16, which happened to be an eerily warm day for the dead of winter- (someone needs to fire Punxsutawney Phil… 6 more weeks of winter my ass.)

Due to this unusual and (mildly concerning) weather, whatever snow that remained on the ground had begun to create beautiful, squelchy, squishy mud. Although we had fun slopping through the woods, the lack of fresh snow severely limited our ability to do any tracking off of the trails. The matted leaf litter and fibrous ground cover inhibited any useful observation, so we were left with whatever muddy evidence we could find on or around the trail. However, we did manage to find some visible signs of life.

First, (and perhaps most notably), we found some interesting tracks in the mud near the top of the trailhead. Unfortunately, due to food traffic obscuring the prints and the animal’s back-and-forth movement, they were somewhat difficult to identify. At first glance, I initially assumed that they were raccoon tracks due to their size and nearly “humanoid” toes. However, after more deliberation, I think they might be porcupine prints. Size wise at around 7 cm, these prints could fall into either category. However, its “meatier” and more rounded heel, as well as its forward-facing toes are suggestive of a porcupine. However, the verdict is still out!

However, we found similar tracks near Centennial Brook that looked even more humanoid than the first, so perhaps we found a raccoon on our trip after all!

In terms of other wildlife, I also managed to audio record some birds who were seemingly enjoying the warm weather. Most notable was the happy black-capped chickadee heard below, and some squawking crows- (not in the following audio.)

Hello! Who goes there?

Still buzzed with post-winter break hangover, our first phenology spot visit of 2023 was, in a word, treacherous. And not like the Taylor Swift Song. Upon our arrival on January 22, we found a once serenely beautiful natural community completely transformed into a death trap of ice and snow. My friend Elise and I bartered on whether a trip down the ice-encased rock to the shoreline was worth the risk of hospitalization (or worse yet, the cost of being airlifted without insurance)- but we ultimately decided to face the trek.

After a few minor brushes with death, the landscape we discovered was drastically transformed since our visit 6 weeks prior. Most noticeable was the shrinkage of the shoreline. My favorite log (aka “sit spot”) had now solidly emerged in lake Champlain, and the rocky shoreline was now only a couple of feet long in width. A once serenely beautiful lake was now so tempestuous that the waves created icicles on the edges of large boulders as they crashed.

Sound of Lake Champlain

One bonus of all the ice and turmoil was that our area remained relatively untouched by any evidence of human recreation, which meant I discovered some raccoon tracks in the fresh snow. (See first photo.)

Up above, we also managed to find what appeared to be deer and squirrel tracking in the central forest!

It was a gentle reminder that even in the most inhabitable conditions, life still persists.

Brrrr!

Well, friends,

It was quite the journey to Rock Point this time around- whether this was due to my friends and I feeling slightly unhinged before finals or the fact that it was a blistering 20 degrees outside we might never know. Let’s just say our journey to rock point on December 10th consisted of a near-public brawl between a passenger and a bus driver, a squirrel hotwiring a car, and a lot of ABBA.

Once we braved these many perils, however, Rock Point was absolutely spectacular. Nearly everything close to the shoreline had crusted over in a thin layer of ice, and the day was stunningly clear and beautiful.

What’s Here?

The last remaining scraps of foliage were completely gone, only evidenced by some crushed and decomposing leaf litter.

In terms of foliage, the black locust was now completely barren, the coltsfoot was gone, and the only remaining evidence of life was in the northern white cedars-, but even they were looking a slightly dejected shade of chartreuse.

Wildlife was perhaps even harder to find. We did spot a black-capped chickadee while waiting for the number 7, and there were a couple of cacophonous crows down near the trailhead, but other than those instances- the world remained still.

Why I love Rock Point

I think this trip particularly encapsulated why I loved having Rock Point as my phenology site. Although the journey is often long and treacherous, the result is always worth the struggle. Today was truly emblematic of that. Even though my fingers lost their ability to be dextrous in the freezing cold, I still felt so grateful to have the opportunity to recenter myself in this glorious natural area. For this entire rocky semester, Rock Point has coaxed me out of my convert zone by forcing me to take time out of my week and observe what is happening around me. I never feel as though the sound of Lake Champlain, the beautiful stretches of exposed bedrock, or the grandeur of the natural community is ever a waste of my time. In this way, the traipse across Burlington to Rock Point never fails to teach me about the natural world, and myself.

Stay sappy, and see you next semester!

Cheers from the Green Mountain State!

I was particularly excited about this Thanksgiving phenology prompt because it gave me the opportunity to explore my brand-new hometown. Although I am originally from NYC, my family moved to Southern Vermont in early fall- making this my first Thanksgiving as an official Vermont resident :)

I chose my phenology spot to be “Spencer Brook,” a small winding stream that divides ours and our neighbor’s property. This brook is nestled between the steep tree-lined hill that leads to our neighbor’s horse pasture and a section of our own wooded property.

I ventured out on Wednesday, November 23rd, crunching through the last of the snow that had hit Springfield as well as Burlington.

Although it was still freezing, the weather turned out to be slightly warmer in Springfield due to the lack of bone-rattling winds from Lake Champlain.

This little meandering brook provided the opportunity to observe a possible source of nutrient deposition and stormwater runoff within a Vermont watershed. As my Burlington phenology spot is the shoreline of Lake Champlain, I have seen firsthand how nutrient deposition within Lake Champlain drainage Basin has continued to impair the water quality of Lake Champlain. Although my town of Springfield is not part of the Lake Champlain drainage Basin, Spencer Brook is a tributary that drains directly into the Connecticut River. Therefore it’s a valuable example of how early nutrient deposition can occur within a larger watershed.

In terms of concerns, the surrounding banks had suffered from undercutting and erosion due to the steep bank with minimal vegetation. I was also concerned about the horses’ proximity to the brook, and how the runoff from their manure could result in the deposition of phosphorus and e-coli, however, this theory would have to be confirmed through testing.

The sounds of Spencer Hollow Brook

I was also interested in observing any differences in vegetation, and how this differed from the species I encountered at the edge of the Limestone Bluff-Cedar Pine natural community. The soil near the brook is very moist, however, the abundance of both black cherry and red maple signaled that the soil might have been poor. This is in contrast to the calcium-rich soil at Rock Point which can foster more finicky species such as northern white cedar.

The only overlapping species between the two phenology spots were coltsfoot and invasive buckthorn. However, Buckthorn was much more abundant within the Limestone Bluff-Cedar Pine Natural community.

November: Hanging On

Well,
November has proclaimed its arrival under the peculiar disguise of 70-degree weather. Still, the fall is ever present in my phenology spot through sights, sounds, and smells.

I arrived at my spot on the afternoon of the 5th: a warm, overcast day with a breeze that made me regret forgetting a hair tie. With sweat on my back and hair in my mouth, I sat at the center of my spot with a bag of pistachios and began to soak up the sights and sounds of November. The most prominent change I noticed was the lack of deciduous foliage. Only a month prior, my spot had been full of color and greenery. Now, the silver maple was desperately hanging on to the last of her leaves, and the green ash was completely bare. The only green that remained was from the surrounding Northern White Cedars and some Coltsfoot. Although the brilliant yellow of the Indian Hemp is long gone, it has been replaced with the buttery yellow of a Black Locust plant.

As I sat in my spot, I also noticed some signs of human interference. There were visible remains of a fire (where a sleepy ladybug was resting), and some logs that had been recently chopped down.

In terms of sounds and smells, the fallen foliage had left a final gift of a delicious fall smell, (you know the one) and Lake Champlain was sounding particularly tempestuous against the shoreline.