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I entered a new section of the TAM today to find an ice covered trail. This was profoundly different from when I had visited the TAM in weeks past, when there was no snow or muddy ground.

A large white pine (Pinus strobus) soared above me (they seem to have been consistent in my visits to the TAM). American Beech (Fagus grandifolia) and Paper birch (Betula papyrifera) were also present, as well as other trees I surely missed.

Woodpeckers were threatening many of these trees. On one tree a sapsucker (Sphyrapicus) had created many little holes. While this disturbance did not seem to be very threatening, more trees were left standing dead by larger disturbances from woodpeckers. The woodpeckers in this forest, desperate for insects or housing can overwhelm a tree until the tree is unable to properly cycle nutrients and water and ultimately dies.

A large tree next to one savaged by woodpeckers, roughly two feet in diameter, had fallen. It clearly had been lying on the ground for many years rotting into the Vermont soil. While I could not predict how long it had been there, Vermont is wet (around 45 inches of rain a year) and there are many fungus and insects that feed on the rotting wood. Decomposition is often much faster here than in some dryer ecosystems. When the tree fell it upturned a mound of dirt. As Wessels describes in his book Reading a Forest Landscape, this type of disturbance can lead to a pillow of dirt and a cradle. When the tree begins to rot the dirt stuck in its roots and rotting tree create a pillow and leave a cradle where the tree had stood. I suspect that in ten or more years this tree will be far further rotted and show an even greater resemblance of the pillow and cradle phenomenon.

The car noise subsided and the forest fell silent. A motion caught my eyes, a crow took flight and all I could hear was the swooshing of its wings as it left the forest. I followed suit.

Maddie Lehner

With J-term coming to an end, I decided to return to the large sugar maple I found at the start of the term. Entering the stand I realized that my eyes are much more informed than they were three short weeks ago, as I recognized the woodpecker holes to be from a pileated woodpecker. This time I continued down the cross country path further before turning up to walk north along the westward facing hill. To the right of the path ~40 yards in, there is a stand of what I believe to maple saplings that had been severely disturbed. Many of the trees have been blowdown, creating a dense understory that I could not possibly move through. This area would provide a good habitat for species susceptible to predation.

After clearing the disturbed saplings, I headed towards the hill and began heading north. The snow covered the rocky slope slowed my pace. As I came upon some beech trees, my eyes immediately began looking for evidence of the fungus Nectria. I came upon small cracks in their bark, however, nothing appeared to be debilitating.

I continue making my way in the direction of the old Maple. While looking at the ground, carefully placing my steps, I noticed paw prints in the snow. My gut instinct is that the paw prints are from a raccoon. However, looking into prints online, I became more unsure. Yet, I am couldn’t imagine what else they could be from. (See Photo)

Eventually, I come upon the old Sugar Maple. Spreading my arms as wide as possible and placing them around the tree, I estimate it would take a little less than twice my arm spread to circle the trunk. Looking beyond the maple’s branches, there are several white pines. About 20 feet up in a split in one of the white pines, there is birds nest. A rather large one at that, perhaps it belongs to a hawk.

Sitting and observing, it seems as though little has changed despite the snow coverage. I plan on coming back in the early spring to check in.

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.

Fat snowflakes fly in my face. As I enter the copse of trees behind Bi-hall, the tall white pines (Pinus strobus)  break the wind and offer a reprieve from one of this winter’s few cold snaps. One of the smaller pines to my left has been cleaved by a large frost crack, a cruel reminder that, while their hardwood neighbors sleep, these evergreens fight through the many trials winter throws their way. Frost cracks in the trees’ bark form when the setting sun reflects off the snow and heats up the side of the tree. Shortly after scorching their sides, the sun sets and abruptly returns the trees to freezing temperatures. When this cooling happens, the trees’ bark contracts faster than the tissue inside and cracks as it tries to shrink back to normal size. These cracks can grow so large that they compromise the structural integrity of the tree. Frost cracks are just one of the many dangers that pine trees face during the winter. Although maintaining their needles allows them to continue to photosynthesize, they also put the tree at risk of loosing branches. Snow can build-up on pine needles and, if enough snow and ice piles up, the branches can snap. As a result of this particular difficulty, pines in the Northeast have evolved to have short flexible needles that easily shed snow. Needles cause another major problem for pine trees. Photosynthesis produces excited electrons that are converted into food for the trees’ cells. However, this process is disrupted by cold temperatures and can leave the pine’s cells with a dangerous surplus of excited electrons. In order to keep these electrons in line, pine trees must load their cells with vitamins E and C. Pine trees needles are a mixed blessing, allowing them to produce food in winter, but also cursing them to face the ravages of a season that most other trees prefer to sleep through.

The crunch of packed snow is reassuring as I cross over chapel pond, stories of trucks being driven over frozen lakes adding to my confidence in the tensile strength of ice. Admittedly, those stories ended in the tucks falling through the ice, but I try to not think of that. Seeing the shanties of ice fishing enthusiasts on the drive over, however, did make me question how anything could survive the winter freeze in a still body of water. Did fish hibernate through winter? Can they breath in their isolated world? Did they ever freeze solid? To me, it seemed a stroke of luck for aquatic life that the density of water does not react traditionally to temperature.

In fact, water is most dense at 4 degrees Celsius, unlike most substances that constantly increase density with falling temperatures. This means further cooled water will rise to the top, eventually freezing solid, forming an insolating layer between the denser, warmer water and the outside freeze. This layer of ice slows the exchange of heat between the body of water and atmosphere, keeping deeper waters liquid all season. In this capped world, food and oxygen are also trapped, but in lower quantities. Many fish, therefore, enter a state of reduced activity. A notable feature of this reduced state is the slowed metabolism, which allows a small amount of food to go a long way. This also allows some species of fish trapped in ice to keep themselves safe, producing a type of antifreeze in their bodies until the spring thaw!

While this smaller body of water has seemed to avoid the rush of ice fishing, Lake Champlain bustles with activity as groups try their luck for Northern Pike, Lake Trout and even Salmon, fooling their prey with rare food sources in the bleak winter season.

Photo credit to Laura

As I journeyed back through the Jackson Property, I see the familiar trees from the identification game we played only two weeks before.  On the same trail, I notice lots of differences from our last trip.  There is more snow, similarly icy but definitely more prevalent.  Coming off of some of the leaves of the trees are small icicles, and the weather is definitely a little colder, though the skies have cleared up some since our earlier visit. I walk through the grove of great red oaks (Quercus rubra), with white pine (Pinus strobus) and american beech (Fagus grandifolia) spread throughout.  

As I am walking back to my chosen location to sit and observe, a tree I remember from last time catches my eye: the scots pine (Pinus sylvestris).  I remember these specifically because of their vibrant red-orange bark towards the top of the trees making them very distinctive.  Though I did research into why exactly the pines get their color, I was unsuccessful and instead found information on their flakey bark and how it creates a good environment for insects, especially pine moth larvae (Lepidoptera spp.).  Among the pine species, the scots pine, the red pine, and the austrian pine are the species that are most often targeted by moths because of the shelter their bark provides, among other things.  Young pine moths, especially in early spring, feed extensively on the shoots and the bases of the scots pine branches.  This can continue for 2-3 months, until eventually the needles turn brown and the branches die, causing obvious damage to the trees.  In addition, you can see locations where the pine moths infest the trees because the trees will ooze lots of sap from those areas, giving the appearance of candle wax dripping down the sides of the trees.  Though I looked and saw some evidence of this in the form of sap on the trees, it is impossible to know whether or not this was caused by moths without any closer inspection.

As I continue on the path, I reach my location to observe, at the edge of the lake looking into the trees and the late afternoon sun.  Overhead I can hear birds and I identify a group of annoying gawking crows (Corvus spp.) flying overhead.  Finally I sat down to observe the lake and the trees.  The water was partially frozen and the different thicknesses are distinct.  I’ve always had the childhood dream of skating on a frozen lake in the backcountry somewhere, but this lake has nowhere near thick enough ice to skate on with the recent warm weather and there’s the issue that I don’t know how to skate…

When our class dispersed into the Green Mountain National Forest for a few minutes of solitary observation, I found myself drawn to the waters of Sucker Brook not far upstream from the Falls of Lana. In part it was the sound of gently flowing water that drew me to its bank, but it was also the incredible sculptural forms of ice that partially covered its surface. The clean-white blanket of icy snowfall had several large holes that I could see, producing open skylights for the babbling brook below. The running water had melted the edges of this frigid cover to produce beautifully sculpted forms which even featured the added interest of dangling icicles. The contrast of bright, smooth ice and dark, energetic water below was something I could have enjoyed for much longer than our allotted 10 minutes.

I sat down and looked at the life growing around me. There was a towering Eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) to my right which I was soon to stand and lean against once I realized just how cold snow-covered ground can feel. To my left was a rock cap fern (Polypodium virginianum) jutting out from the side of a small boulder, a species which, like myself, is attracted to the geologic outcrops that occupy the forests of the eastern United States.

Looking upstream, I saw a massive boulder that was a few meters across. It reminded me of one of the first field trips I ever took for a college course, during which we waded out into the Middlebury River to collect data and calculate streamflow. Venturing upstream, we came across massive boulders that could not have been moved by the current discharge of the channel, providing a perfect opportunity for our professor to remind us of the dichotomy of geologic time: either mind-boggling slow or mind-blowing fast. Over a stretch of thousands of years, there is bound to be a flood that is capable of causing such geologic change. Similar to David George Haskell’s “Earthquake” chapter from The Forest Unseen, it is a reminder of the connection between time, geology, and the forest ecosystem. Though Sucker Brook was peaceful as it gently flowed under the ice that day, time hides its true potential.

Making a journey to Silver lake, I become part of a story, part of the history of the Green Mountains. The ground is frozen, covered in fresh snow and ice, and protected by the Vermont National Forest. I wonder who has ventured through these woods before me, and who will come next. The Green Mountain National Forest has changed drastically over the centuries. The evolution of the land and climate has taken place at the heart of the Western Abenaki tribal home. Creation of the national forest was spurred by extreme land use beginning in the early 1600’s. The landscape became tarnished, leaving the once thriving natural habitats, hydrology, and vegetation behind. Long term and unsustainable logging practices where a key factor in the creation of the the Vermont National Forest, which was founded in 1932. The Green Mountain National Forest encompasses 400,000 acres, in which over 2,000 historical and archeological sites are documented.

The dark character of the Eastern Hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) lies in stark contrast to the light ground. Ever since I can remember my family has spent time hiking in the North Carolina State Park, and each summer when we return Mt. Mitchell and to the crisp waters of the South Toe River more Eastern Hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) are victims of the Hemlock Woolly Adelgid (Adelges tsugae), an invasive species from Asia. The beauty of these hemlocks gives me hope and a glance into the past- -of being carried on my father’s shoulders through the once healthy Eastern Hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) of North Carolina.

The woods are quiet and the path is on a slight incline. I hear the Falls of Lana hidden just beyond the bare trees, carrying Sucker Brook. I walk on the same land that the US General Wool crossed in the 1850’s, the general who gave the falls their name. Llana, wool in Spanish, remembers the General Wool and his explorers who ventured about Lake Dunmore many years ago. In the summertime these falls are vibrant and colorful, now it is subdued, white snow and dark waters lie upon various types of bedrock including Cheshire Quartzite, Forestdale Marble, and Moosalamoo Phyllite. I think about General Wool and the men who accompanied him, wondering when they stumbled upon this site and what they recorded when they came.

Sources:

https://www.fs.usda.gov/main/gmfl/learning/history-culture

http://www.northeastwaterfalls.com/waterfall.php?num=128&p=0

https://www.uvm.edu/~conserve/lands_website/previous_projects/NNIS.pdf

https://www.na.fs.fed.us/spfo/pubs/pest_al/hemlock/hwa05.htm

Ashley (Photograph emailed because of size limitations)

As we embarked on our walk through the Green Mountain National Forest, the amount of green that was present surprised me.  Tall Hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) surrounded us and their canopy limited the natural sunlight underneath.  The ice that covered the Hemlock trees’ contributed to the satisfying aesthetic beauty of the forest.  During our walk, I stood in awe before a massive tree that had fallen and lifted its roots from the ground.   There were several other trees that were positioned similarly, mostly pointing in the same direction.  Evidence suggests that this was caused by a microburst of wind, though it is hard to believe that wind is capable of uprooting massive trees.  Further research tells me that microbursts aren’t common in the Northeast, and they take place more in the South and Midwest, so the mystery remains unsolved.

Our walk begins to parallel a river and I decided to sit on a rock on the riverbank.  The soothing sound of small waterfalls and trickling water fill the air.  As I sat, I admired the natural spontaneity that occurs on the surface of the river.  The water flows swiftly through tiny cracks and crevices created in the rocks and ice.  Closer to the center of the river, the water is calmer and is crystal clear, revealing the numerous rocks and fallen branches.  The trees on each side of the river are slanted slightly, hanging over the water.  I suspect that this is simply because they are growing on a slanted surface but I wonder if it is more complex than that.

I am intrigued by the shining icicles and I ponder the process in which they were created.  Icicles are created when the temperature is subfreezing, but sunshine causes snow or ice to melt slowly.  An icicle begins with a few water droplets and grows as water trickles down and freezes at the bottom.  Similar to last time, I am unsuccessful in my search for animals.  I hoped to see at least animal tracks in the snow, but it appears that my location was not a popular spot on the river.  

The forest clears and I step into a wide-open space, white snow covering the floor and shrubs poking up from beneath. I step out onto the pure white snow and a hollow crunching sound emanates from beneath my feet. Ice: I must be standing in a wetland area. My friend and I proceed more carefully to the center of the wetland, where he immediately finds a tree partially gnawed through by a beaver. While he is marveling over that, I sit down and look at the open area, an amphitheater showcasing the huge magnitude of biological processes happening just beneath me.

As dirty and as unappealing as most wetlands look, the water in them is some of the cleanest on the planet. This is primarily because of plant uptake of water. The huge number of plants, ranging from small ferns like cattails to larger, wooded trees like tamarack (both of which I could identify) mean a lot of water is being taken up by the plants. With that water come nutrients and other substances absorbed into the water molecule. The three major nutrients plants need to survive are nitrogen, phosphate, and potassium; thus, these are the primary components of fertilizer. If a wetland is situated near an over fertilized farm, the plants in the wetland are going to be able to help mitigate the amount of excess fertilizer that could find its way into drinking water supplies, or otherwise sensitive areas where a nutrient imbalance could throw off an entire ecosystem.

Many wetland plants are able to absorb even more toxic substance, including generally toxic metals such as cadmium and lead. Woody plants, like the tamarack, are able to hold these toxic substances for long periods of time. However, herbaceous plants and macrophytes tend to absorb more water in a shorter amount of time. With this knowledge mitigation and prevention strategies could be implemented in high risk contamination areas, like factories, mines or farms.

I slowly come to the realization that plants are perhaps the most tough, robust, and successful organisms on earth. They sit in the cold, frozen ground, perhaps filled with toxic chemicals that humans inadvertently put there, and survive to grow and multiply when spring timidly reveals its head. I sit in my huge puffy jacket, thinking about my cold toes and how good fresh water is going to taste when I’m home. Perspective.

Trevor Livingston