The dog-days of summer

20 Jul, 2012        Author: Glorianna Davenport

June 30, 2012  Sharon Stichter looks for butterflies along river's edge   credit: GDavenport

While the “Dog Days of summer” may impart a feeling of lassitude, forlornness or even forsakenness, they never seem lifeless or unproductive. There is just too much natural vitality to suggest resignation. For humans, getting up with the light, eating modestly, and roaming the by-ways of field and forest insures that we will have our share of noble encounters with nature-in-the-wild. No matter how hot and humid the day gets, memories of the most recent encounter never fail to re-affirm, energize and inspire.

Wildness is, of course, relative. Urban wildness occurs in tiny cracks in the pavement, as well as in rivers, streams and patches of natural wetlands that, despite all odds, remain in some urban settings. In the country, wildness often harkens back to a time when that same landscape was manipulated to support some human activity. In the case of Tidmarsh Farms, a large rock at the top of a knoll that has been colonized by little bluestem and blackberry briar speaks to the glacier that retreated from this place some 10,000 years ago; across the rest of the 2 km expanse, the bones of a cranberry farm are still everywhere in evidence.

As these dog-days wear on, we roam the land, encountering moments of complexity and perfection. An enormous snapping turtle basks in the river holding only its nose above water. A momma duck corals her clutch of 9, down one from yesterday. Two young deer fawns dart across the road and enter the woods; their mama follows. A great egret takes off suddenly (I have disturbed him), soars for a few minutes, and lands half a kilometer down stream. An otter clamors up a culvert. A bale of turtles, who are sunning themselves on river muck, quickly slip-off into the river as I pass by. An otter clamors up onto a culvert. As ever, these dog-days are filled with the festive explosion of distinctive butterflies and other winged species who perform amazing aerobatics from late June into mid-July as they search, swoop and land on nectar blooms of their choice.

June 30, 2012   Silver-bordered Fritillary with Least Skipper in flight

credit: MFaherty   URL for Mark's photos

One of the great pleasures of managing this restoration project is to meet, hang out and learn from the many people who are lending their expertise to making this project the best it can be. On June 30, members of the Butterfly Club of Massachusetts arrived at Tidmarsh Farms to search for, observe and photograph butterflies. After a short introduction to the project, the group took off. For a few minutes, several explored the impoundment edge. In parallel, another member navigated his way down the bank to see what species might be active on the cranberry bloom. Soon they regrouped and walking along the road they discovered an amazing colony of Baltimore Checkerspots. Group wisdom concluded that the Baltimore Checkerspot hosted on the narrow leaved plantain that grows abundantly at the edge of the grassy knoll. In time, the group arrived at a large stand of Common milkweed, Ascelpias syriaca, also known as Butterfly flower, Silkweed, Silky Swalow-wort. Milkweed grows abundantly along the embankments of the former cranberry bogs. An important source for many nectar-seeking insects, and larval food for monarch butterflies, these patches of milkweed provided a treasure trove of fritillary specimens, including three variegated, two great spangled and a Silver-boardered Fritillary. As the excitement grew over these discoveries, I worried a little about how this plant would fare in the face of the restoration intervention. I also learned that we could perhaps enhance the population of monarch butterflies if we cut some of the milkweed down following the bloom, a practice I accidentaly follow in my garden. Cutting the milkweed at this time, allows the plant to send up the young succulent shoots that are preferred by the Monarch butterfly larva.

The more one focuses on wildness, the more one comes to appreciate the complexity and perfection of a cyclical system. For one thing, the cycle has existed for a very long time,  well before the Greeks wrote about it.  The name dates to the Romans who named these days after Sirius, the "Dog Star", the brightest star in the constellation, Canis Major (Large Dog).  Perhaps they also wanted to reference household dog who may also languish in the heat of these summer days, days we all know will pass soon enough as the cycle continues: summer to winter, birth to death, migration and hibernation to a return and reawakening. As we struggle to retain our composure in this summer sauna, we do well to look beyond our discomfort and celebrate the many ways in which nature delights, thrives and rejuvenates itself cyclically.

Butterfly Club of Massachusetts

Tidmarsh Farms, Manomet, Plymouth.

June 30, 2012; 12:50 - 2:30 pm or so

Butterflies as reported by Sharon Stichter, President of The Butterfly Club of Massachusetts

Spicebush Swallowtail - 2

Cabbage White - 11

Clouded Sulphur - 4

Orange Sulphur - 9

American Copper - 20

Eastern Tailed-Blue - 2

VARIEGATED FRITILLARY - 3

Great Spangled Fritillary - 2 (part of a wing missing on one...)

Silver-bordered Fritillary - 1 (the second flight may be just starting here...)

Pearl Crescent - 2

Baltimore Checkerspot - 13  (This is a nice colony, host plant here is almost certainly the nearby lance-leaved plantain.)

American Lady - 7

Red Admiral - 4

Common Buckeye - 2

Monarch - 16

Silver-spotted Skipper - 5

Least Skipper - 5  (NO non-native European Skippers seen.)

Delaware Skipper - 1

July 7, 2012  Monarch on Milkweed                       credit: GDavenport

July 7, 2012  Common Buckeye                            credit: GDavenport

The birds of Tidmarsh

26 Jun, 2012        Author: Glorianna Davenport

May 12, 2012 Indigo Bunting (Passerina cyanea) - KDoyon

I am a landscape person – always have been. The flow of shapes, large and small, color and texture entice me to move into, through and over, from one vista to the next. Plants speak to me of wisdom and of lives well lived. Many years ago, when I was a practicing sculptor, a grouping of red-coats and pixie coat lichens caught my eye. I quickly dropped down until my eye matched their level, In angled sunlight, each upright cast its own shadow. Rising again I quickly sketched, “Audience waiting for the start of a symphony”. The symphony surrounded me; it emanated from the air, earth and trees of the forest. Alas I was not able to bind a musical representation to the drawing; as a result, the audience I represented on paper, had to wait patiently, silently, as if for the symphony to begin.

In the years that followed, I traded in the tools of the sculptor for the tools of the movie maker. Movies speak of time, temporality conveyed through the sequencing of images and sound. Movies are best at capturing action, why people do what they do. In the observational synch-sound documentary, human conversation often dominates the sound track, carrying meaning that we, the audience, can easily parse.

With the restoration project at Tidmarsh, I have returned to my preoccupation with landscape. How may we capture phenomena of changing natural ecologies as they unfold slowly over time? The challenge is multi-faceted and demanding, for even as we are immersed in a design process, the landscape is changing. What do we need to know, what data do we need to collect to make these changes discernable over the near and longer term?

Already we are using a range of methods, techniques and tools to capture a baseline that reflects the state of the landscape today. Some of these methods are commonly used in stream restoration and conservation projects; others are more novel in their design and application. Survey data, water flow, chemical and biological analysis of sediment and water, a plant species inventory, designation of habitat types, bird, insect and invertebrate counts – individually, these will be helpful to those writing reports in the future; however, on their own they cannot convey much about the landscape that is now in transition. Short movies of scientists at work, long time-lapse sequences from a given point of view will add interest, and soundtracks capturing moments of the symphony I spoke of earlier can help convey an experience of the place. But to tell the deeper story, we need to record many synchronized data tracks across the landscape over a long period of time. This phase of our study requires the participation of many committed individuals and is just beginning.

As my sensitivity to the need for restoration actions and the continuing naturalization of a newly protected wetland grows, my attention is increasingly drawn to the cacophony of place, or in the words of the superb naturalist Bernie Krause, the “biophony” of biodiversity at work. This idea became more real to me this spring. In April, American Robins arrived in great numbers: I could not decide whether they were migrating or whether they wanted to be here.  On April 30, Robert Buchsbaum, a naturalist at Mass Audubon,  and a small group of volunteers began to lay out a few 50 meter circles in specific habitats with the goal of recording a first Tidmarsh count of nesting birds.

April 30, 2012 Robert directs marking the circles GDavenport

April 30, 2012 Found on the bog GDavenport

In May, observation of migrating and breeding bird species gained energy, and a few weeks later, the frogs began to announce their presence and availability. As May progressed, our volunteer group gained some neighbors who bird regularly and photograph on the property. I am especially grateful to Kathy Doyon who sent me regular updates and some of her best photographs about her discoveries on the property; Linda and Paul Williams who contributed photographs and have been regulars in our first breeding bird count; and Stew Sanders, Mark Faherty and Robert Buchsbaum all of who contributed their expertise to this first count of breeding birds at Tidmarsh.  Stay tuned for our identity on iBird.

April 30, 2012 Found on the bog GDavenport

May 12, 2012 Cape May Warbler (Dendroica tigrina) - KDoyon

May 12, 2012 Scarlet Tanager (Piranga olivacea) - KDoyon

May 5, 2012 Northern Waterthrush (Seiurus noveboracensis) - KDoyon May 5, 2012 Northern Waterthrush (Seiurus noveboracensis) - KDoyon

Throughout the spring, all this talk of birds, encouraged me to listen more critically in order to parse the symphony.  I purchased IBird-pro have tried to learn some unique calls. In this Stew passed along valuable mnemonics: "witchity, witchity, witchity" sings the yellow throat; "teacher, teacher, teacher" sings the oven bird.  The yellow warbler sings "sweet, sweet, very very sweet".  Mark Faherty added the mnemonics of the english gentleman birder with "teakettle, teakettle, teakettle" of the Carolina Wren and "Madge, madge, madge, pleeese put the teakettle on" of the song sparrow. Alas, distinguishing one call from another and pinning it to the right bird is proving harder than I could have imagined. There is an enormous difference between listening to the biophony – the total sound –and separating that biophony into songs and calls of individual species. The latter is like learning a new language; youth has its advantages. However, I still enjoy the total sound and am recording long tracts of synchronized audio in many of our habitats.

Now we have passed the summer solstice, the biophony is changing: birds are quieter; while frogs and toads continue to fill the night air, insects and especially butterflies and dragon flies are becoming more more present and urgent . On monday we completed the last nesting bird count of the season. On Saturday June 30 we host a butterfly walk.

June 25, 2012 Mark's camera comes out for a bobolink GDavenport

Plant Workshop March 24, 2012

28 Mar, 2012        Author: Glorianna Davenport

This year spring has come early. Over the summer and fall 2011, Irina Kadis and Alexey Zinovjev at Salicicola.com made great progress assembling a visual database of plants found on Tidmarsh Farms. Together, we are working to develop our long term plant strategy for the restoration effort, a strategy that will favor native plants of Plymouth County. We are also developing a short term (2 year) strategy to reduce the number of invasive and introduced plants on the property.

Today, Irina and Alexey are training a small cadre of volunteers to identify and mark the woody species that whose populations concern us the most:  multiflora rose (Rosa multiflora), Marrow's honeysuckle (Lonicera morrowii),  oriental bittersweet (Celastrus orbiculata), rusty and ash willow (Salix atrocinerea and cinerea). Once marked, these will be cut back and otherwise treated to reduce flowering and seed production.

Rusty and ash willows are becoming the dominant willow species of the region at the expense of native varieties.  How did this happen. Originally from Europe and Eastern Europe, these species were sold and planted as landscape specimens for many years. Over time, these non-native varieties cross bred with the native varieties, and became dominant. In discussion with Irina and Alexey, Tidmarsh Farms has established the goal of reducing the number of female plants as much as possible prior to the restoration implementation. This action will significantly reduce the production of potentially viable seed and early sapling population by 2014.

As it turns out, it is only possible to distinguish male and female trees in the spring, when they are in flower.  This week, the buds are fluffing out and we  see the distinctive yellow glow of the male tree with its buds covered by brilliant yellow stamens in the distance. In contrast, the female, with its greenish bud that will turn into catkins, looks modest but for us is dangerously productive.

Today, marrow's honeysuckle is just breaking bud. Irina tells us that most invasive plants get a head start on many of the native species, a strategy that often allows for early seed production as well.  Small bursts of rich green are aparent everywhere along our road sides; this keeps the volunteers busy marking, and will keep us busy cutting. As we walk along past one of the big erratic rocks on the property, we examine a large patch of native rose.  Its large single hips make this plant easy to distinguish from the invasive multiflora rose with its arching habit. Irina also encourages us to feel the stem of the rose to distinguish it from blackberry, a native briar.

We continue to mark plants as we walk the road along the red maple swamp.  The maples are in full flower - stunning! I point to the relic channel that pushes back into the forest.  This will be even more beautiful with this channel restored!

For more information about native plants of Plymouth County, you can purchase:

The Vascular Plants of Massachusetts: A County Checklist, First Revision (2011) by Melissa Dow Cullina, Bryan Connolly, Bruce Sorrie and Paul Somers. and visit Salicicola.com