Week #11

Week #10

I'm continually amazed each week by the new signs of spring I see walking to my spot. As I entered the woods black and white morning cloak butterfly fluttered across my path and disappeared in the tangle of new leaves. Burdocks were are starting to grow up along the sides of the trail and dandelions are flowering in the grass just outside the entrance. The raspberry bushes have new green leaves where last week there were only purple stalks. As well as the butterfly I saw a lot of other insects including a bumble bee that flew clumsily through the low grass looking for flowers that can't be far away. As I got deeper into the forest the new growth still stood out and there are leaves emerging everywhere now, not just in the sunniest open areas. At my spot the stream is still trickling along and small plant are pushing out of the damp sediment that was underwater during the peak of snowmelt. I hear a few birds but the forest seems quite, perhaps because my visit fell in the heat of early afternoon. As I sat beneath the large white pine I chewed a fresh blade of grass and thought about our assignment for the week. I have counted the whirls on the pines near my spot and many of them are around 50 years old so 50 years ago my spot must have looked very different. The larger white pines would still be there and many of the smaller ones would be very young but I don't know what the rest would look like. It may be that at that point the forest on this plot was still in the process of reclaiming an open field. If this was the case there would have been much lower scrubbier vegetation interrupted by the larger open grown white pines. The beech and red maple probably would not have been here yet and certainly not the shade seeding hemlock that is now beginning to develop in the understory waiting for an opportunity. It's also hard to know what the forest will look like 50 years in the future because so much depends on human interference, both directly from decisions on how to manage the park and whether it will continue to be preserved and indirectly through the influence of climate change which has the potential to profoundly alter the natural communities here. If the forest is allowed to continue successionally unimpeded by human activity in 50 years it will most likely be a more diverse mixed forest with the hardwoods that are currently in the understory growing up to take the place of the older white pines.

Week #9

It's been hot and dry for the last few days so the path through the forest today was hard packed with only a few damp remnants of mud. The yellow light of late afternoon seemed to illuminate a thin coating of golden dust on branches and trees trunks enhancing the dry feeling. I tried to be aware of patterns and immediately noticed the bleached white of maple leaves standing out in an almost checkerboard pattern from the browns and orange of pine needles and red oak leaves. I'm pretty sure this is because Oak leaves have more tannin in them and are therefore bitter tasting to decomposers who prefer the sweeter maple leaves. Oak leaves are also leathery and tougher than maple leaves. When I arrived at my spot I noticed another patterns. On the south bank of the small stream the white pine seemed evenly spaced and sized. Judging by the whirls they were around 40-60 years old and stand very tall and straight. On the opposite side of the ravine the pine are more variable in age and more twisted and gnarled, the canopy is also more open. There are some fallen trees that look like wind-throw lying across the ravine pointing south to north so perhaps wind from the south catches the trees on the north bank of the ravine with more force and opened the canopy preventing an even aged stand from developing. Or perhaps there are just different land use histories. My presence in the woods today may have disrupted another patten. I've found piles of pine cone shingles under the tree where I sit and as I sat there a red squirrel approached seeming very agitated. He darted around above my head chattering as though I had stolen his favorite dinner spot. I moved away to see if he would come down but he darted away and I didn't see him again so maybe he was just curious about this strange interloper.

Week #8

It was an overcast afternoon after a light rain this morning. The Sky is a luminous white as the sun tried to break through thin but persistent clouds. As I walked into the woods I could immediately see a change from my last visit only a few days ago. In place of opening buds there were now tiny crumpled bright green leaves unfolding at the end of branches. I also saw new growth beneath my feet as grasses and other herbaceous plants pushed through the leaf litter. There is a subdued atmosphere in the woods today with only a few birds singing. I can now add the Phoebe to chickadees and seagulls on the list of birds I recognize by their call. I saw a red squirrel run across a log as I walked in and I can now here them chattering in the trees. The small stream near my spot is still trickling away perhaps slightly swollen from the rain. A couple of water-striders skim across the surface of a pool in front of me and seem to be interested in a patch of foam which they repeatedly run up against popping tiny bubbles. An interesting development this week is that the trees (I think they're Ash) and shrub directly across the small stream from where I sit are not as dead as I had thought. New buds are opening on them, I don't know if I didn't notice it last week or if they emerged that quickly. There's still no sign of the buds opening on the beech saplings that make up much of the much of the understory near my spot.

week #7

It feels almost oppressively hot and dry in the forest today after being so used to mud and rain. As I walked into the woods I saw a Robin foraging in the dry leaf litter, it seemed to ignore me even as I passed within a few feet. The buds of the box elder saplings near the entrance had burst and i could see the tiny folded leaves beginning to emerge. As I walked to my spot I noticed that I couldn't hear the main stream and when I crossed over the bridge I saw that the water level was much much lower than the last time I was there. All the last remnants of snow and ice had already been carried away. Without the roar of the stream I heard traffic but also birds singing everywhere. I didn't recognize any of the songs except for the chickadee and they were all to high in the canopy to distinguish by sight. When I reached my spot I noticed that the smaller stream was only trickling along, I wonder how long it will continue to run. The crack in the white pine seems to be filling in with new growth but I don't know if it will be able to fully heal the deepest parts of the split. Looking up I see red maple buds standing out against the blue sky, they seem to be the first to have opened.