Author: Greta Savitsky

The variety in the barks of the trees around me at Rikert was the first thing I noticed, so it was surprising to then come home, chilled and tired, to read more about bark. During my first semester, I had an assignment in ecology and evolution to identify several trees around campus using the Bark Book, a tree field guide focused predominantly on bark. Since the beginning of this class, I can’t stop identifying all the trees I pass, but on the bus to Rikert we are going too fast to identify, so I simply acknowledge and appreciate the diversity of trees.

Once there, I clip into my skis and glide off toward the woods. The overhanging Hemlock (Tsuga Canadensis ) branches whoosh by above me. Finally, I find an interesting spot alongside the trail. I squat down and get to work identifying some of these trees. No one else skis by, leaving me plenty of time to stand and observe bark and buds.

The first to pop out at me was an American Beech (Fagus grandifolia). I knew this tree not by its normal smooth, gray bark, but for its lack thereof. This tall yet thin Beech will not know the life of some thicker, heartier Beeches surrounding it. Alas, as told by Wessels in the reading, old, healthy Beeches, or “majestic specimens,” are hard to come by. Beech Bark Disease, the infamous Nectria, has invaded this individual, and many around it.

Behind the speckled Beech I see a Yellow Birch (Betula alleghaniensis), some Paper Birches (Betula papyrifera), and some Eastern Hemlocks (Tsuga Canadensis) alongside the trail. I ponder the resilience of the forest. With the number of threats to its diversity and even existence of anthropogenic threats, I feel so lucky to live in an area where I have access to healthy forest that has persisted and continues to be protected.

I was so excited to get to spend some time sitting alone in the forest. In such a fast paced J term world, I appreciated the quiet serenity. I sat down between two large rocks on a bare spot of log so I wouldn’t get too cold or wet and I sat in silence for a while. The two rocks were covered in both moss and lichen, and one of them was marbled with orange streaks. I took this to mean that the two rocks were made of different mineral compositions, adding to the diversity of the soil.

Soil nutrients also come from a fallen log between the rocks. (The log, like many others in the forest, fell to the Southwest, suggesting a strong, cyclonic storm, possibly a winter northeaster or a summer/fall hurricane.) The log was covered in orange fungus and had decomposed a considerable amount, so it must have fallen a few years ago.

The tree community around the two rocks was predominantly Eastern Hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) like most of the lower section of the forest, but at our altitude at that time, more deciduous trees were spaced in between these pines. For example, I spied a yellow birch and a hickory (although I’m still unsure whether it was a shagbark (Carya ovata) or a bitternut (Carya cordiformis). Where there wasn’t snow, the ground was covered with a considerable layer of leaf litter. By the rocks as well was a small cliff, and the tree cover diminished significantly as the slope got steeper.

We weren’t far at all from the waterfall we had passed earlier in our hike, but I couldn’t hear the water. What I could hear was the road. This type of noise pollution is incredible, that the sizable waterfall, closer than the road, wasn’t louder. This is just another example of how human influence has encroached on and penetrated so much of the United State’s wilderness.

I was exhausted and sleep deprived on my way back to Middlebury from my race in Chittenden, Vermont, but my mom had made the trek up from Williamstown. I was determined to show her the beautiful houses on Cider Mill Road in Cornwall that I had admired on the way to the Jackson property. While we were driving I spied a patch of trees and asked her to pull over so I could sit for a few minutes and take some notes.

What I found was a patch of trees near the road with a long line of tree growth going back from the road, probably to mark a property line. In between these perpendicular plots of trees was mowed field. My guess is that these trees would spread out and recolonize the area if the field was not regularly mowed and maintained.

There was a small ditch by the side of the road (just like we learned about in Vermont Family Forest: water comes rushing from the forests through ditches like these). There was a significant amount of cold water sitting in this trough very close to the trunks of the roadside trees, suggesting that they can grow in a wet climate.

The landscape was very quiet while I was there. I witnessed no wildlife or sign of humans. The only noise was the wind in grasses. It was chilly, but still warm enough to evoke a spring-like thawing smell.

Some of the trees in these plots include White Pine (Pinus strobus) and after much confusion I decided Red Maple (Acer rubrum) as well. I struggled with this classification because of the strangely dark bark on the tree. However, with a little outside research I discovered that a relatively common disease called gloomy scale (Melanaspis tenebricosa) can cause Maple bark to turn black. However, I’m still a little unsure on this issue. Maybe I’ll go back again next week and try again to identify the clump of trees.

The first thing I noticed after I decided where to stop and observe the forest was the number of pines. My mandala is next to a grassy field, and the trail I used to get to the spot runs along the edge of the field, right behind the row of white pines (Pinus strobus) that border the tall grass. These pines are all relatively short and thin, especially compared to the ones we saw on the Jackson property. I thought for a while about why this might be, especially since I expect they get more sunlight due to the open space. I predict that this is newer growth, possibly edging out into the field area further than when it was first cut down to create the field. Besides one large white pine toward the inside of the forest, all of the pines around are pretty small.

My spot in the forest is also right next to a steep hill/cliff. There is a difference between the trees on the cliff and the edge of the forest. The flatter ground is where most of the pines live, whereas there are more deciduous trees as the hillside gets steeper. Seeing how the roots were exposed on the rocky hillside made me think that the strength and heartiness of the root systems is probably a big factor in what kinds and sizes of trees can survive and grow at such a steep angle.

Besides the trees, I could hear small birds and wind rustling. The leaf litter ground cover is impressive there, especially given how many pines are in the area. It’s too cold to smell the decomposition smell, but I know that if it were warmer I would smell the earthy, wet smell of leaf litter. With the steep slope right there, I thought about how trees on an incline will accumulate leaf litter, causing fire scars to be more prominent on the upper sides of the trees. However, I don’t think that this forest is in much danger of a fire.