A UVM blog Phenology Assignment in Centennial Woods – Katelyn Clark

Tragedy has struck. I am much much worse at tree identification than I thought. My tree wasn’t a red maple or even a Norway maple. It was an oak. What type of oak? Foolish question, I clearly don’t know.

I went back to Centennial Woods to take photos; I couldn’t be seen walking around campus or downtown alone and taking photos of trees like a weirdo. Inaturalist is a fine app. I mean, it failed to properly identify my tree, but to be fair, there were no leaves and the bark was young, and I couldn’t identify it either. I took 25 photos, but I am sure I encountered many more species than that in the woods. I enjoyed seeing other towns participating so greatly in the City Challenge, good to know there are other people out there who like plants and animals, but then again, I already assumed there was.

My visit was quite nice. For some reason, I never actually hiked farther into Centennial (besides that one lab) than where my tree is, but today I decided I would when I noticed just how green and pretty everything was. Started off by trying to cross the bridge over a creek, but I dropped my phone in the water and had to retrieve it and dry it off on my shirt. Rough start. But then 2 guys and a golden retriever walked by and I got to pet the dog. God giveth and God taketh away as I always say (I am not religious). But I hiked further and further in until I freaked myself out about what lurked in the woods (I’m too into learning about cryptids) and then I walked back the way I came. But it was a good 45-minute hike/walk and I plan to go back next semester.

The visit was off to a cryptic start when I was walking down to my spot. I first noticed that someone had hung a few birdfeeders on some trees in the first of the clearings. Then I heard something like flapping or skittering but I couldn’t see anything at first, so I shuffled a little bit to get a better look just I just saw the side of what looked like it could’ve been a really big bird. Freaked me out a bit as it was shifting its position around the tree as I was moving so it was constantly on the opposite side of me. So I moved on to continue walking to my site.

This also made me remember that I saw a little snake last time! When I first saw it I jumped back on instinct because the only snakes I’ve encountered before were rattlers and I am not looking to get bit by one of those guys. But then I saw he was just a little green guy and most likely harmless so I just watched him slither around and then away.

Back to the present, I noticed how so very bright and green everything was. Very exciting. I first made a pit stop at my tree to see how it was doing, and obviously, her buds had opened more since I last saw, but this visit confirmed that she was definitely a Norway Maple, oops. Then, when I was going to my original spot I noticed that there were some small branches/trees crossing just barely above my head on the path. At least one of the trees was a fir of some sort, I believe, because of its long needles. Not sure if it had always been there, but I definitely noticed it this time. I also took a second to appreciate the bird songs going on around me. At least 3 different species were present, but which ones? Alas, I do not know.

As for the ways culture and nature intertwine, I think it’s obvious that the people in Burlington/UVM go to Centennial Woods to enjoy some nature or exercise by themselves, with a partner, or with friends. I think it reflects the hiking/nature appreciation culture that goes on around here.

On the way back I revisited the bird feeders and from afar I saw what was there earlier. It was a big ass squirrel, feasting away on these birds’ seeds. Sneaky guy knew he wasn’t supposed to be there because as soon as he heard my steps he went back to hiding on the opposite side of the tree. Because I spooked the guy, a little blue bird flew down and made its way to the feeder. The whole time this little blue fellow was munching I could just see the squirrel’s head barely peeking out from behind the tree right under the feeder. Almost comedic.

Do I consider myself a part of the place? I’m unsure, honestly. I know that humans are not separate from nature, but I still feel as if I am just an observer of what goes on in those woods. I think of it like I’m a regular at a small beloved coffee shop.

My tree’s buds have started sprouting into little green and red things. Very unscientific language but I’m not well versed in phenological tree changes except when the palo verde trees turn yellow in the spring and mess up everyone’s sinuses. Not me, though. I haven’t had seasonal allergies *knock on wood*.

As for what the experience was like. I had a very profound one. Perhaps it’s because I was listening to Sally Rooney’s ‘Beautiful World, Where Are You?’ on audiobook. Anyway, I realized that these phenology assignment has been like a representation of why I wanted to get out of Arizona for so long. I missed the seasonal changes that each year brought. Obviously, in the desert, there isn’t autumn where all the leaves change color or winter where it snows and you get a white Christmas. The only seasonal changes there would be springtime (My favorite AZ season. My favorite season, in general, is fall, so you can see how I would have missed experiencing autumn for 10 years) where all the flower bushes bloom. Other than that it’s just summer and then hotter summer. But these phenology assignments have “forced” me to go and actually take note of all that is happening. Quite a pleasant day.

I was worried I’d forgotten where my tree was as it wasn’t in the exact spot that I usually go to, but luckily after nearly slipping down the muddy hills ~10 times, I found it and my worry was for naught. There were not any obvious signs of change in its appearance.

I picked a tree that I thought was a young Red Maple but upon closer inspection of a branch+bud that I brought home I’m thinking it may actually be a Norway Maple but I’m unsure of anything lately. There was no evidence of flowering, fruiting, or flower budding. Just the cold buds of winter.

I didn’t do myself any favors by picking a young maple with less identifiable bark but the older maples’ branches were too far above my head to reach and I forgot my ladder at home. I believed Red Maple because the buds looked like they had a reddish hue, but after a second analysis and looking at my Winter Twig Identification paper from class I’m afraid it may be a Norway Maple as their buds can also be red and the smaller bud kinda looks like a Norway Maple bud shape.

On my way into Centennial Woods I kept my eyes glued to the ground in hope of seeing animal tracks. The first sign just a few steps into the trail was some yellow snow. I was excited about this for a second, but quickly realized it was probably just someone’s dog; I move on. The further I walk in the more anxious I get. There are a ton of depressions and spots in the snow that look like they could possibly be animal tracks at first glance, but it’s too many of them all around, and there is no discernable path that an animal took, so I assume these marks are just spots where the snow caved in from some plants (as I also saw many plants in the center of these depressions) or I was just too close to the trail and it was most likely dog paw prints/human footsteps (most often). As I neared my chosen spot I considered the fact that humans are animals, and so I guess footprints are technically a type of animal track.

Not finding what I want. I take off my hood to see if I can hear anything. Besides the quiet scrapes of other people on the trail, I hear the sounds of various bird calls (I’m not good at identifying, but I feel like at least one of the calls came either from a crow or a raven), but in between, it’s absolutely silent. Coming from the Sonoran Desert, I haven’t experienced a winter like this in a long time. I knew that snow was a sound insulator, but the absolute quiet was something startling. The softly falling flurries of snow, the trees outlined with white, and the silence were trance-like. I had been waiting to experience seasons for 10 years, and just standing alone in a snowy wood felt like a combination of relief, peace, joy, and hope.

When I decide to turn back, I glance around once more to search for some footprints other than a person’s or a dog’s. I may have seen some, I may not have, I’m not very good at this animal tracking thing, but hopefully, I’ll be better after this week’s lab.

Returning for the final time in 2022 I watched as the very last of the leaves (mostly maples), looking already dead or dying, clung to the tips of branches, occasionally falling; the once roaring sound of leaves rustling in the wind was now only a trickle, despite the winds that prevailed, cutting through the fleece sweater my grandma had sent me, as well as the sweatshirt and shirt I had on underneath. 

Following the path of the leaves to the ground underneath my feet, you can see a few changes. The most notable of which is a lack of color in the leaf litter. The last time I’d visited a few yellow fallen leaves prevailed in adding color to the woods all the way into November. But now, you will only find soft brown leaves and needles… with a few odd exceptions. As I scanned the trail I noticed a few leaves that looked white and almost translucent. I don’t know if they were like this before having fallen during the fall, but I assume that they were once green (and eventually yellow/brown as the temperature dropped) but lost their pigment while lying in the dirt. A google search only led me to guides on how to get rid of a powdery white mold from leaves, but that seems to be a reference to people trying to care for their indoor potted plants. 

Another peculiarity I noticed was a few tiny spots of what appeared to be bright orange, slimy mold (fungus?) growing on the end of a fallen log. A second google search brought up photos of orange mushrooms, but those were too obviously mushroom-like. What I noticed could just as easily be some child’s spilled jello that stuck to this log. 

The only other thing adding color to the otherwise brown forest are the intermediate wood ferns, the few red berries remaining on an otherwise bare shrub (Japanese barberry?), the various moss/lichens growing on fallen logs, as well as living trees, and, if you look up, the green needles of the conifers.

The only signs of animals in my spot were the calls of birds above me, out of sight. I believe I heard some crowns (ravens?) and chickadees, if I correctly matched what I heard to a clip on youtube.

One thing that I’ve noticed for a while now is how common it is to see what looks like small trees/branches curling around another tree/branch. I assume these trees are using the other as support as it grows (like beans with corn stalks), but I’m curious if there is another reason this is happening. It looks almost as if someone has cultivated them to look this way, given how beautiful and intricate the design is – as if it were about to be turned into a piece of furniture or decoration for an ornate tree house. 

I think the thing I like most about my phenology site is just the fact that it has encouraged me to get out of my room/off campus and spend some time outside. Going back to the same spot every few weeks has become a ritual of sorts, where I get to walk to the woods with a friend and then separate for a while as our paths split, taking the time to notice my surroundings and listening to the sounds of birds and leaves in the wind. 

https://goo.gl/maps/rH6CtynSKhTbT7U99

Since I stayed at UVM for the break I decided to visit a friend’s phenology spot. Needless to say, the ecology and phenology of this spot was very similar (the same) to my own, but it was nice to see the place where my friend had been spending her time. It was also nice to spend time outside a bit.

When we first arrived I noticed how different the trail looked since I had last been there, before the leaves had really fallen. If I hadn’t known where I was I wouldn’t have recognized the place. The vast majority of the leaves had fallen, now collected as dead matter at my feet. After making my first preliminary sketch I decided to sit on a log and really take in my surroundings. I listened to the rustling of leaves all around me and eventually looked up where I could watch the trees sway in the heavy breeze. They are able to safely lean with the wind more than I expected them to, rarely staying still.