Author: James Conboy

As we disperse to select personal observation areas, I feel that there is no spot that looks more or less appealing than another. Eastern hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) are ubiquitous in this section of the forest, and I choose my spot simply because there is a rock from which to sit and observe. What I don’t realize at the time is that this rock adds a point of interest to the Wessels, “Pillows and Cradles” reading.

Covering the rock is a layer of moss supporting the growth of a hemlock sapling. This confuses me considering that Wessels discusses the growth of hemlocks on “nurse logs,” not plain rocks. He describes these logs, usually hemlocks, as the ideal facilitators of moss growth due to their rate of decay. While he states that hardwoods, such as “maples, beeches, and birches” (Wessels 121), decay too quickly, it seems implicit that a rock experiencing no biological decay would not promote moss growth either. I wonder whether an old hemlock has decomposed over many decades on this rock to the point where the only remaining evidence of its existence is the moss that persists. The snow on this slope only exposes the moss partially, and perhaps there is a sizeable layer of moss that can’t be seen on this rock. In any case, I question if these saplings will be able to grow without a connection to a nurse log or to the soil.

More numerous on this rock is a type of fern I have not observed in my previous trips to the TAM. With some research, I identify this as a common polypody, or rock fern (Polypodium vulgare). Seeing this plant makes me more cognizant of the specific conditions of this forest. The Vermont State Parks website describes the plant’s habitat as “abundant on moist shady cliffs, rocks…” which is a near exact description of this habitat. Furthermore, the abundance of hemlocks with a smattering of paper birches (Betula papyrifera) in this forest demonstrates the specific necessity of shade-tolerance in this environment. Hemlocks dominate because they are extremely shade- tolerant trees, while the birches, shade-intolerant, require perfect conditions (an ample amount of light) to thrive in this forest, and are less numerous as a result.

In truth, the milder weather makes this trip to the forest more enjoyable than last week’s. A high temperature of 46 degrees and virtually no wind provides a comfortable, and noticeably quiet place to observe as I return to my original spot. I have my eye out for stumps during this visit; and while I do not find any evidence of logging from my Mandala, I spot a downed white pine (Pinus strobus) that inspires some questions based on the Wessels, “A Study in Stumps” reading. Half unearthed and half protruding from the ground, this tree, judging by its partial depression into the soil and moss-covered trunk, looks to have been dead for several years at least. Could the roots that were still locked in the soil be providing nourishment for this tree? Wessels poses a similar question, but with his greater insight, is able to provide an answer. For one, the tree I observe is small, and Wessels states that stumps that are smaller in diameter usually don’t live as long as those with a larger diameter. Secondly, the trees he observes have their root systems completely intact, while the tree I observe has half of its roots exposed. My assumption is that a complete root system is essential for a stump’s long term survival, and therefore this tree is certainly dead.

Turning 180 degrees from my vantage point, I spy an eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) that has made a gamble. The sapling, which is positioned right under the gap in the canopy, has leaned away from this gap toward a neighboring white pine for stability. Whether this hemlock has made the correct decision in turning away from potential light remains to be seen.

Finally, rotating 90 degrees to the right, I take a closer look at the roots of the huge fallen white pine from which I observe. Amid the larger roots are thousands of tiny root structures. They stem from the web of larger roots to occupy every portion of the soil. These small roots appear, at least in size and number, analogous to capillaries in the human body. The larger roots, less numerous but larger in size, seem similarly akin to veins and arteries. At least in the sense that both blood and tree roots engage in the transfer of nutrients throughout their respective bodies, the analogy may hold truth. As I leave the forest I hear the rhythmic call of a bird that chirps about 5-15 times in each call. As the bird goes unseen, I rely on my ears and later identify the sound as that of a Red-Breasted  Nuthatch (Sitta canadensis), native to the northeastern US year-round.

As I walk through a field along the TAM toward the forest, I’m unprotected against the wind. The temperature is at freezing, and wind chill drops it another ten degrees. This makes my arrival in the forest feel like entering a protective tent. The predominantly evergreen section in which I walk provides both needles and trunks as shelter. I use Haskell’s approach of using a small area as my Mandala, and choose the trunk of a fallen white pine (Pinus strobus) as my spot. The gap in the canopy is huge, and walking around the trunk, I see a fortunate white pine sapling that is well-positioned to exploit the gap. But as I observe that the majority of saplings scattered throughout the forest are cloaked in shade, Haskell’s observations on the vast improbability of saplings’ survival becomes apparent.

Looking upward, it’s clear that the white pines dominate in height, but I can see that this generally positive attribute is a double-edged sword. Obviously a tree that is taller than all that surround it will have a competitive edge in terms of growing potential, but the strong winds cause the pines to sway ominously, and I wonder if this small disturbance could prove fatal for the pines in the event of a more severe windstorm. Observing the trunk I sit on deepens my suspicion of this possibility. The tree doesn’t appear to be deadfall, as Wessels articulates, because it is not significantly weathered or even “devoid of bark” (Wessels 25).  My theory is that the pine fell due to blowdown. Wessels writes that the largest trees are most susceptible to this occurrence, and this tree is evidently quite tall due to its dominance in its section of the canopy.

Exiting the forest, I spy a lone American Beech (Fagus Americana) among the conifers with the distinctive brown leaves hanging onto its twigs. I also see a flock of American Crows (Corvus brachyrhynchos) reminding me of the chickadees that are able to sustain harsh temperatures due to their insulating feathers. As the crows are the only wildlife I see that day, it’s clear they are well-adapted to the Vermont cold.

Observations made Friday, January 13th, 2017, at the Trail Around Middlebury in Middlebury, VT.