Field Blog Journal 6: Smell

Jonathan Levinsohn

It was October 31^st, 2009 around 10:00 am. It was an uncharacteristically warm day, almost 20^O C, which is well above the average temperature according to the almanac (courtesy of “the weather underground:” wunderground.com) of 12^O C. The sky was overcast, though the radar did not show any cloud cover above us. Perhaps the clouds were too low to be picked up. The wind gusted frequently and there is a wind advisory warning in effect for the area as gusts were reported to have reached 37 kph in North Adams.

Braving the wind, I made my way down to the cemetery for the fifth time in a week to examine the different smells of the area. The mowed and raked grass bordering the woods had, unsurprisingly, the mild odor of freshly cut grass. I looked up towards the trees, and saw few leaves. Only the now yellow Norway Maple leaves still clung to branches. I grabbed a low hanging leaf and ground it up in my hands and took a deep breath. The leaf had little smell, but resembled the smell of the cut grass. Perhaps this is due to common chemicals in plant vasculature. I grabbed some of the sumac fruit and tried to grind it up using my hands. Though my fingers stained red, I was unable to break the hard casing of the fruit. I smelled the pseudo-smashed berries, and detected nothing.

I turned my attention to the ground, which was now covered by more than an inch of yellow, red and brown leaves (mostly maple). There was an exceptionally large pile of leaves in a ditch, which was likely the destination of any leaves that fell on the grass. These crinkly leaves had no apparent smell. There were more beer cans and bottles littering the area, though I did not bother to smell them. I remembered the distinctive smell of yellow and black birch, and decided to see if the decomposing black birch in my plot of woods still had the same smell; I peeled off some bark from a smaller branch and found that it had lost its former odor, and now smelled of dirt and rot. There was some wild garlic mustard along the edges of the woods, which had the familiar savory smell that their name suggests. The moss upon a rotting log also had no apparent smell apart of dirt. After smelling several of these plants, I was distracted by a crow’s caw. I paused to listen for a brief while, and also heard the chattering of a squirrel and the mewing of a catbird. The latter two, are sounds I have heard frequently, but the crow was a rarity. I saw a chipmunk dart into a crevasse in a large Norway maple, and I re-focused upon smelling the area.

The under story of the woods was surprisingly green, due mainly to the number of invasive exotic species (namely honeysuckle and buckthorn). The pokeberry, which was brown and wilted, still had two or three berries left. I grabbed them and easily mashed them in my hand. The purplish-blue smudge smelled like blueberries and V-8 juice. I looked for some of the buckthorn fruits, but saw that they were no longer on the trees. The winged euonymus’ orange fruits and the Japanese barberry smelled the same, a relatively strong odor, which I had difficulty placing, but finally decided they smelled like squash. The mulitflora rose, which was also still green had berries that had a weak, but sweet smell once they were pulverized. The leaves of the honeysuckle and buckthorn had no apparent smell.

In retrospect, it would have been better to have examined the smells of the area earlier, which I prevented from doing by a head cold. I do not have a particularly strong sense of smell, though it would have been nice to have more leaves, berries and even flowers to examine. For instance, it would have been nice to smell the butternut, which I mistook for a black walnut, so I could determine if the two smelled alike.

          Today I went to my site on October 30^th at one in the afternoon. The weather today was still cloudy, and it was quite windy. Fall has finally arrived at my site. All of the trees within my site have now changed color and are a vivid bright yellow. Some trees have even lost all of their leaves and are now bare. Taking my journal, I sat on a stump next to the Tyler Path and listened as the wind blew through the tree tops. The strong wind was ripping the leaves from the branches. They fell slowly, floating down to the ground and adding to the large pile of leaves that have now accumulated on the forest floor.

            While looking at the lay of the land, I noticed that compared to the sites we visited on Mt. Greylock, the forest was quite flat. There were some dips and hills created by fallen trees, but for the most part, the ground is relatively flat. I am sure this indicates that this is a younger forest.

            Unlike some of the sites that we have visited on our field trips, my site lacks the variety of fall colors which we have seen. There are no signs of red leaves like those belonging to the red maple or burning bush. There are a few trees which still have some green leaves, but for the most part, they are all turning yellow.

            There are still a few huckleberries left on my site, though they seem to be disappearing. The squirrels and birds may be eating them as winter comes closer and food becomes scarce. Besides the berries, there are few things to taste in my site. There is not any yellow birch, clovers, or mushrooms in my site to taste.

Speaking of small animals, I saw two squirrels playing in the leaves. I could hear their high pitched squeaking as they ran up and down the tree trunks and underneath the leaves. Soon after, a flock of geese flew above me; the sound of their honks preceded their presence as they made their way south for the winter.

            It will be interesting to see how the site changes as the season transitions from fall to winter. How will the light source change as the leaves begin to disappear? How will the lay of the land change after the leaves have gone and after the snow begins to fall? I am also excited to begin to study the history of my site to see what it was before it became Tyler Woods and to see if it is as young as I believe it to be.

A Taste of Nature               By: Claudia Corona             10/30/09

Neither the slight chill in the air, nor the cloudiness of the day could dampen my mood today. I was going taste-testing! But not at just any site, I was going to Hopkin’s Forest!

I walked into the forest, fully expecting a buffet of colorful leaves and lively green plants, but that all came to a screeching halt when I saw the my site before me. If I didn’t know anything about seasons, I’d think that the Earth was permanently dying. Two weeks ago there was rows of white snakeroot, shrub honeysuckle, and other plants along the trail. But now, nothing but dried up leaves and parched plant stems littered the ground. The ferns were still around, but that’s because they are evergreen plants and they remain green throughout winter.

Even the trees looked dead! Two weeks ago they were a live, rich, vibrant brown color, and now, they all looked dried up. No tree had a lively color to it; the maples. beech, and birch trees all sported a dull gray color. They all looked how they felt (of little energy) and it made sense. As the northern hemisphere approaches winter, trees absorb all of the energy that their leaves have (as a result of less sunlight hours), and then shed their leaves in order to store energy for winter. But that’s not enough, the trees also have to “power down” and go into a sort of hibernation mode in order to survive the cold winter months, which would explain why they looked less vibrant.

“Chirp, chirp!”, is all I could hear while I take in what looks to be a perished forest. Now that more than 90% of the leaves on all the trees had fallen, I could see the birds flying around from tree to tree. There were quite a few birds today, more than I’d ever seen or heard before in my site. The birds were too high up for me to identify, but they couldn’t have been more than 6 inches tall and there were lots of them, flying through the trees and landing amongst the still living shrubbery. I was surprised at the strong presence that the birds were making, both in sight and sound. I briefly wondered why they were still here, there couldn’t possibly be anything of use to the little birds, the majority of the flora was nonexistent! I couldn’t figure out the answer at the moment so I moved on.

The forestry along Ford Glen Brook may have been stripped of its vibrancy, looking like a barren land with nothing on the ground but arid leaves, but that wasn’t going to deter me from my taste-testing! I looked around and sought out any plants that weren’t already dead or potentially dangerous for me to digest. All I could see was japanese barberry and lady fern. Though the japanese barberry had lost most of its leaves, and had a pale orange color to it, it still had vivacious red berries on its branches.

That’s when it clicked. The birds were here for food, specifically berries. Now that almost all of the plants and shrubbery had been cleared away, the red berries were more noticeable and easier for the birds to collect or eat. I wanted to know what all the hype was with these red berries, so I decided to eat one. I put one in my mouth and bit into it, immediately tasting an acrid liquid. It reminded me of eating unripe fruit; sour and dry. I spit that out after a couple seconds, not wanting an upset stomach.

Now feeling a bit more courageous with my taste-testing, I went after the lady fern. The lady fern felt dry in my mouth, and tasted like grass, so I spit that out as well, definitely a less interesting taste than the berries. I’d also always wanted to know if paper birch tasted like paper, so I cut some bark out and tried that as well. The bark was pretty sturdy and hard to chew in my mouth, it felt like I was trying to chew paper, quenching that curiosity. At this point I wished that for some water to get the taste of flora out of my mouth, and I thought about the stream water…but however thirsty I was, I decided to not risk getting Giardia (diarrhea), so instead I called it a day and walked back home, happy to have had a taste of nature (literally!).

6:30 – 7:30

Stetson Tastes

 

I came to the Stetson woods today with an appetite.  After a great cross country meet, and an exciting fight to ensure that our mascot did not fall into the hands of the treacherous Connecticut College cross country team I had worked up an appetite.  The sky was darkening quickly but it was only 55 degrees outside, so I got right to work as soon as I arrived.

Expecting very little taste-wise, I attempted the Norway maple leaves.  My intuition was right; these leaves simply tasted like bland lettuce leaves with no texture.  Moving on to sugar maple leaves I found no improvement.

In search of any leaf taste at all, I tasted a yellow, green and yellow-orange maple leaf to see if there was any difference.  There was none at all.  Continuing throughout the site to buckthorn, ash, dame’s rocket, multiflora rose, winged euonamous, japanese bayberry and several others I found nothing different in taste; the little differences came in texture only.  The wild garlic mustard was only different flavor.

Moving on to the berries that remained at the site I opened a buckthorn and tentatively licked the dark mass inside.  I immediately regretted it.  There was absolutely no sweetness, and a terrible unfamiliar aftertaste lingered for about 2 minutes.  I realized that at this time of year, there was a reason that these berries were the only left.  In the name of natural investigation, however, I soldiered on.  I tasted the Japanese Bayberry and damned my curiosity; these berries were awful too.  I looked to the only birch tree at my site in hopes of clearing my palette, but its lowest branches were decidedly out of reach.  My taste tests were over.  There was still more to examine beyond taste.

On the Northern end of my site a (approximately) five by fifteen foot pool of water formed.  The pool looked to be about 6 inches deep (roughly) at its deepest section and gradually shallowed at the edges.  Exact measurements were impossible though.  Just like the ground around the pool, the pool bottom was covered with a thick leaf layer.  Around the outside, I spotted a new fungi that I’ve since identified as the Coprinus comatus or the shaggy ink cap.  Wikipedia claims that it is a great edible mushroom and is even cultivated in China.  It’s just my luck that only thing I decided not to taste is in fact a delicacy.  Finishing my pond examination I noticed 4 slugs around the outside which I was unable to identify but were about an inch and half long, a pale beige/white in color with a mottled back.

Thinking back to my initial visit into this site, I do not remember many open spaces.  Now, however, it seemed as if much ground cover had been smothered by a layer of leaves and they would not emerge again until next year.  But not all openness,  was seasonal.  Of the maples on the southern side of Stetson, there were three rather large branches that had been partially separated from their tree.   In the center rested many black locust branches.

As I began to leave, it seemed the entire woods seemed to be thinning out in preparation for winter.  The berries that remained seemed at best bad-tasting and at worst, inedible.  But as I prepared to leave I saw signs that this wasn’t a barren site.  A small grey moth perched calmly on a late-blooming goldenrod, apparently probing it for something more tasteful than what I’d found.  Next to it, clung a small grub about 3/4 of an inch in length.  Giving this creature a closer look before I finally left, I picked it up.  It did not appreciate my offer of hospitality.  It quickly curled up, and excreted a huge volume of foul green liquid onto my hands.  Tasteless.

Syndicate Road Woods – Friday, October 30, 2009 – 3:00 PM

The Syndicate Road woods have changed exponentially since my last visit.  The first thing I noticed on my way into the woods is that the asters on the east side of the road which were in full bloom only a few weeks ago have now shriveled up to become little puffy balls of spores.  The large puddle in the southeast corner of the woods, which I believe has grown a bit in size, measuring approximately 10 feet by 10 feet, is now visible from the road due to the bare branches of the surrounding trees.  As I step into the site, I find it ironic that now the floor, not the canopy, is yellow because of the fallen leaves.  Otherwise, everything seems quite still and only a squirrel disturbs the peace by jumping from one bank of the stream to the other.

The stream, in fact, is nothing but still.  Even though it has not rained since Wednesday, water not only trickles but pours out from the culvert.  The sound, therefore, of the gushing water is of a much higher decibel than during my other visits as the stream winds its way through rocks and miniature cataracts formed by fallen branches.  The western bank of the stream is still muddy from the rain, but due to continuous erosion, it gives a good example of the various soil levels present at the site.  I can easily see the two or three inches of dark top soil covering a thick, light-colored, muddy layer of clay.  These layers all rest on a rock which is only slightly visible but appears to be schist.

On the banks of the stream I notice that the honeysuckle has lost of its small leaves but still maintains its bright red berries.  The sumac too, which had a vibrant magenta color last week, has lost all of its leaves, although I do notice another sumac about twenty feet downstream that is later in its cycle and now appears bright pink.  Now that the branches of most of the tall trees are bare, it is easy to spot the oaks that I had a hard time finding during my first visits.  From my zero point I can see at least six as they still retain many brown leaves.  A few sugar maples are also holding off and still sport a beautiful yellow coloring.  Without their leaves, the many bare trees in the woods all become like one, no longer identifiable by their leaves, buds, or coloration.       Inspired by the field trip to various points on the Green River last Tuesday, I wanted to check out the stream in the Syndicate Road woods to see if it had any of the same larvae that were present in the river.  I had brought with me a make-shift collecting kit which consisted of a kitchen bowl and a pair of tweezers.  My first try inspecting the leaves from a riffle in the stream was unsuccessful.  Farther downstream, however, I had better luck.  Among wobbly rocks and broken branches, I managed to collect a large clump of dead leaves from a riffle in the stream.  After rinsing them off I found a large, what I thought to be, true fly larva.  At full extension the larva was about two inches in length, although it expanded and contracted frequently.  The larva had a transparent outer layer that seemed to break into bubble-like sections which hosted a small, black object inside.  I set the larva on a leaf in order to examine it further after collecting more specimens, but by the time I came back it had crawled away.  Although I also examined leaves from pools of standing water, the only other critter I found was a small inch worm that looked like it had drowned in the water.  I was happy with my discovery of the caddisfly larva, however, so I decided to rinse off my materials and head home.  Even though the Syndicate Road woods may seem a serene and quiet area, I learned today that the trickling stream is full of life.

The skies over Wall’s Pond were unusually gray this afternoon. I tend to visit on the kind of day when photographers come to take pictures for the admissions prospectus. The wind gusted to nearly 10 mph and, though the air was a balmy 55 degrees, the wind made it feel, if not even that much colder, markedly more bleak. But a poor day for Williams admissions means a great day for Clark admissions and the entire parking lot was full with cars, motor coaches, and school buses. I picked my way through them to the relative tranquility of the pond and found myself, aside from four mallards that cruised across the surface, the only visitor at the site.
I first took quick stock of the foliage. The big sugar maple by the entrance had but a few leaves left on its low branches. In a week nearly all the ash and beech along the western cow fence had lost whatever remained of their foliage. The only color left along that strip of woods came from four now-conspicuous sugar maples, each of which still had the bulk of its leaves. The signature bright yellow color now caught my eye and I began my rounds along the western edge, deciding to make my general notes first, if only to stave off the inevitable gustatory investigation I was to make on this visit.
As I rounded the northwestern corner of the pond, I noticed a small flock of nine Canada geese standing in the eastern meadow. I became anxious to examine them in closer quarters and approached quietly and slowly, treading lightly around the flooded shoreline. When I was about 20 yards away, and could make out the strips of white and black on their bodies, one goose made a loud honk and flapped mightily into the wind. The rest followed immediately and I jogged over to where they were just as the last goose leapt into flight. They took off into the southeast breeze, flying low over the museum. I watched as they turned east and flew off over Spring Street, until they disappeared altogether.
Once the geese were gone I decided it was high time to get a better taste of Wall’s Pond; literally. Not quite knowing where to start, I knelt down and pulled up a pinch of grass and, like the cows, started chewing away. Not so bad at first, I thought. Bland, with a very slight bitterness. But clean tasting and smelling. Ultimately unenjoyable, though, and sure enough I spat it out (the grass actually turned my saliva a nice shade of Kelly green) after about half a minute. I decided I was not of the constitution to eat goldenrod or mugwort, my allergies being bad enough already, so I turned next to a benign looking sedge in the bordering vegetation and popped a blade in mouth. Similarly tasteless, the sedge was a lot easier to chew. Only for a few moments, though, and I promptly spat the sedge out, too.
I made my way around the pond, sampling various small shrubs with non-poisonous-looking leaves, all to the same conclusion: “people food” is better. In a last ditch attempt to enjoy this enterprise, I pulled down a twig and needle cluster of white pine at the south end of the pond. I tried a few needles, finding not much flavor at all and then stuck the ripped end of the branch in my mouth to try and get some sap. At first I was subtly pleased by a crisp, piney flavor, vaguely sweet and quite refreshing. Within thirty seconds or so, though, the branch became intolerably bitter. I tore the twig from my mouth and rushed to the water’s edge. Braving the risk of giardia (we’ll know in a week or so if this was smart), I dipped my hands into the pond and drank. The pondwater nullified the bitterness from the pine and I remarked to myself how clear and tasty is was. A little dirty, to be sure, but it hit the spot. Cleansed, I walked back to my car. I had, by this time, garnered a few odd stares from passing Clark patrons and wanted nothing more than to sink my teeth into the Subway sandwich I had left waiting on the passenger seat and wipe clear with Frank’s Red Hot pepper sauce all that nature had had to offer.

Stephen Maier

29 October 2009

This afternoon, Thursday, October 29,2009, I was a little dismayed at how the day had proceeded; therefore, a walk into nature was entirely necessary to lift my spirits. I left my car at 1:33 p.m. with the sun was beaming down and heating Williamstown to a pleasant temperature of 62°F according to the digital thermometer in my dashboard. The worries once existing within me were gone when I noticed the horses grazing at the fence through which I pass on my way into the forest. There were three: one white, one white with Dalmatian spots, and the third was white with brown patches and black spots. They were majestic animals, strong looking and well groomed. I wanted to run my hand down their backs and tell them they picked a beautiful day to take a walk together, but I don’t know horses well enough.

I walked past them and followed the vaguely beaten path into the West Clark Woods. Today’s objective was to explore the various natural tastes existing here. The horses appeared to be enjoying the grass they were devouring, so I extrapolated and tried convincing myself that I, too, would appreciate the flavors of the forest. As my mind wandered over paper birch leaf dinners and hemlock pine needle desserts, I heard something behind me. I turned and noticed the horses poking their heads into the woods, seeming like they were checking on me.

With the sharp onion savor remaining from lunch, it was difficult to smell, let alone taste, anything else. I bit into a tree branch and got nothing in return, besides a bit of a toothache and onion. After trying another branch from the same tree and experiencing the same taste, I knew I needed to clean my palate somehow. Without food or water, there was not much of a choice. I had to press on, so I continued my adventure and chomped on some hemlock needles. Wow! The onion flavor was no match for the hemlock’s powerful taste. After two bites, the Christmas tree scent we associate with winter overwhelmed my senses. I was seeing, tasting, feeling, and smelling Christmas trees, oh, what fine memories. I had to spit out the needles immediately after chomping down, for they were unbearable to chew more than twice. After chewing on several different branches of needles and tasting their pungency, I felt my taste buds were adequately in commission so I surveyed the woods in search of something different to try.

During my wandering for edible entities, I came across four red squirrels, multiple birds, and a snake, leaving me to conclude the animals appreciated the weather, too. The snake was the most impressive of the bunch due to the rare appearance of its species. It was black and roughly a foot and a half long with a yellow stripe running along its ventral side. According to A History of the County of Berkshire, Massachusetts, by Thomas Hunt, et al, this snake is most likely a “striped or streak snake” (p. 41).

After my encounter with the serpent, I found a new shrub about six feet tall with bright green leaves still attached. Its leaves looked appealing and appetizing, so I indulged. It took several tastings prior to extracting a real flavor, but I eventually tasted the skin flavor of a pear or an apple. The leaf, clearly, didn’t have the juice that is so delectable in a pear or an apple, but it did have a hint of the pear or apple flavor. The best way to describe to taste is this: if you were to separate the skin from the inner portion of the pear and eat it, it would be similar in taste to the leaves of this tree. Perhaps this species is related to the species of pear or apple trees.

I didn’t taste much else because the alarming piles of horse feces scattered throughout the woods were enough for me to declare that everything on the ground was off-limits for ingestion. I did, however, sample some paper birch bark, which shared the identical taste of printer paper, and a yellow birch branch that I broke off a small tree myself. The yellow birch’s flavor was not as distinct as it had been four weeks ago on Stone Hill. I concluded the salicylic acid is produced directly proportionally to the leaf growth, in that as chlorophyll is being produced in the tree, salicylic acid is produced simultaneously. After making this hypothesis, I left the woods, just over an hour after I had entered. What a beautiful day.

Gordon Smith

Natural History of the Berkshires

10/30/09

Field Journal #6: Taste

When I went to my site on Thursday at about 4:30 pm, the weather was sunny, surprisingly warm with an ever so slight breeze, and the sky was cloudless.

Though I am always reluctant to taste plants I haven’t been expressly told are edible as well as tasty, I did sample a few plants while my courage was up. I chewed on the stem of a sugar maple leaf, hoping for a little bit of sweetness as per the tree’s name. This I did get briefly, but after a few seconds, the taste turned bitter and unpleasant, causing me to spit out the fibrous mass. Again hoping for a pleasant taste, I tried a white pine needle or two, and while they were nice flavor-wise, the texture soon defeated my gag reflex with the small splintery pieces that resulted from my chewing. After this, I tried one last plant, the wild mustard garlic. This tasted halfway between a blade of grass and a blade of chive, but was not pleasant. I considered sampling goutweed, but its name deterred me.

Another tour around the site led to several interesting observations and showed many large changes in the site. First and foremost, the white birches are all completely bare, as are the American beech, silver maple, chestnut and sugar maples. The large oak tree has turned completely brown, but as of yet the leaves have not fallen. The evergreens still look healthy, as does the goldenrod and the goutweed.

There seems to have been a reasonable large amount of animal activity recently. While at the site, I saw many more chipmunks than I had before, though this may have simply been timing. There was also plenty of evidence of the squirrels’ and chipmunks’ feeding. The number of fully eaten and stripped pinecones has increased drastically since last I visited. This most likely means that other sources of food are running low, and that now the pine cones are valuable for their seeds as they were not when other food was available. In the warm weather, the rodents were out in force, and I saw plenty of play going on. I also found, by the base of a white pine tree, a half eaten nut. As the picture below shows, the large chestnut is mostly eaten, and bears the marks of many small teeth, either from one rodent many times or from multiple rodents.

What was curious was that there was so much left. Scattered around the nut were small pieces of white nutmeat, and they almost appeared to have been chewed and spat out. There were not enough of these fragments to complete the nut, so it seemed that some was eaten, and the rest was left. I believe the strewn fragments and remaining half of a nut were the result of a very rapid feeding that was interrupted. But even if the feeding was interrupted, why leave the nut? In any case, an interesting find.

For a few nights recently, I have seen deer from my window in the Mission Park area. Though there weren’t any while I was there, traces were all over the site. Near the center of the grove is a large patch of goutweed, but when I arrived there I found many green shoots that appeared to be new growth. After investigating their tips and stems, I realized that they were simply goutweed (I think) stems that had been chewed off by deer. When deer graze, they usually also leave behind scat, which I also found in the grazed area. Judging by the concentrated organization of the dark pellets, I would guess a female left the scat, as males generally walk as they defecate, leaving a trail of pellets.

On the other side of my site, however, was another small pile of feces. While at first I thought it was again deer, I saw some distinct differences. The second pile had much less distinct boundaries between pellets; it almost seemed that the pellets had been softer and pressed together. They were smooth in texture, and the insides were green. This led me to believe it was a deer with some sort of intestinal issue that prevented full digestion of its meal and full uptake of water.

These signs also show me that deer have a much more active role in my site than I believed.

Jonathan Levinsohn

It took me several trips to the Eastlawn cemetery before I was able to get what I was looking for—a recording—however this was a nice opportunity to see my site at several different times throughout the day in relatively quick succession. My first trip was on Sunday, October 25^th, 2009, at midnight. It was bitterly cold. I did not measure the temperature, I could not only see my breath, it prevented me from seeing much with my headlamp. I stopped at the top of the hill as I decided whether it would be a good decision to walk down to the river and listened. I could hear the river and a slight breeze. I used the digital recorded and could hear nothing. I assumed that I needed to be closer to the sound’s origin to pick it up on the recorded and I decided that I would return when walking down to the river would not be so precarious.

The next morning, it was much warmer when I arrived at 9:30 (7^O C).  I heard the chatter of a red squirrel, which I have heard before in the site, some cars on nearby route 2, the mew of a catbird and the rushing of the Green River, which was still very full from the recent rainstorm. I was unable to hear any of this, however on the digital recorder. I decided to formally look though the site, anyways. I immediately noticed a family of white tail deer. I could only make out a smaller deer (the size of a faun) and a larger deer. I could only see their white tails. The winged euonymus’ leaves had finally turned bright red, and the Norway maple had a slight yellow tinge in its leaves. There was some sumac fruit on the ground, though most was still on the trees, which had no leaves left. The honeysuckle had its leaves, along with the grape vine; the honeysuckle’s was shriveled. The sugar maple had also lost all of its leaves but still had its brown-ridged helicopter seeds. The buckthorn and the multiflora rose still had all green leaves. The white snakeroot leaves were crispy and most of the fluffy seeds were gone, and the pokeweed was entirely brown save the base of the stem and the tissue that secure the fruit to the plant. Few of the ferns that I had noticed earlier remained in identifiable condition. The area next to the river was flooded. I could see several puddles and the plants were knocked sideways towards down river indicating that excess runoff had pushed the plants into this position. Among the new discoveries was a Japanese Barberry, that still had red leaves and fruit, and several new beer cans near the edge of the area.

I returned that evening with a borrowed camera to take some images of the site. Both how difficult it was to get quality images with reduced light and also how quiet it was astounded me. I could hear nothing other than the river, though I fully expected some animal activity, though I saw and heard none. Not ever squirrels. I have heard that animals are often most active at dusk and dawn, but I have seen the most activity of birds, and rodents in the mid-morning. Thus I decided to return the next morning to make a recording with a functioning digital recorder.

The next morning was windy and it felt cold (though it was only about 4^O C). I would estimate gusts were about 15 kph. They were mowing the grass in the cemetery, but I was unable to pick that up. All I could pick up was the wind, and the chatter of a squirrel, which carried on longer than usual. I heard some birds, but could not figure out where they were and was unable to point the recorder in the correct direction to get a recording. I do not know what species they were, but they did not sound like a catbird; it twittered instead of mewing. I also recorded the river flowing near a particularly swift and rocky portion, though the recording did not come out very well.

Sound from Tuesday morning (10/27/09) pictures from Monday evening (10/26/09)

Eric Outterson

Hank Art

Natural History of the Berkshires

 

A Muted Woods

Thursday October 22, 2009

10:02PM-10:25PM

I came late in the evening with the hope of discovering a new creature in my site and a chance to document its call.  Unfortunately strong storm-like gusts blew cold wind and many leaves.  There were no bird calls tonight.  Using the digital recorder, I was unable to record the noise of anything but many rustling leaves.

I did, however, see a two foot long skunk cross my path.  On the stones of Stetson Wood’s southern hillside I spotted him, and he seemed completely unmindful of my presence.  While I was fairly sure that I blended in well, I was still concerned enough that I continued my examination of the Stetson Parking lot woods around the perimeter, away from the rock under which I saw him disappear.  Unfortunately, the skunk approached closer to the curb where I had been examining the largely maple leaf cover on the ground.

Even though I had not recorded any sounds, I was afraid that I might be able to record a scent, so I left with great haste.

Friday October 23, 2009

4:30PM-4:55PM

Returning again, it was still breezy and cold in mid 40’s.  The wind wasn’t as strong as Thursday but it was still cold.  Beginning my observation anew, I saw and heard at least five different red squirrels running about rustling the thick leaf cover.  Unfortunately, however, there were no birds chirping, and the loudest noise I recorded was leaf rustling.

To record noise, I decided that I would wait on one of the rocks, hunched over.  After about 15 minutes of sitting calmly on one of the large rocks in the middle of the Stetson woods, I saw a chipmunk scurry into a hole 30 feet to my left.  Over the next five minutes I saw his exact location from a bump upward in the leaf cover wherever he tunneled.  I could barely believe it, it was like a cartoon’s rendition of mole tunneling through the earth.

My musings on the matter, however, were interrupted by a startling and gruff “what are you doing down there?”  It was Chuck Roberts, assuming the worst of a boy crouched in the middle of the woods with a mysterious object in his hands.  I naively responded “I’m recording nature.”  Finally, however, I explained myself and he told me he’s seen raccoons down in Stetson woods too.  No audio recordings of any raccoons unfortunately, but given my trust in Chuck Roberts I’ll add them to the list of species in my woods.

Sunday October 25 2009

2:30PM-2:55PM

In another attempt to record sound I came back to try once more on a day with weather Friday’s.  I saw more red squirrels and chipmunks, but again I heard absolutely no birds.  I was again very disappointed and left with only leaves rustling on my recordings.

5:20PM-5:45PM

More leaves rustling…

Monday October 26, 2009

5:15PM-6:00PM

Monday was a little warmer at about 50 degrees with blue skies obscured only by wispy cirrus clouds.  Coming this time I was unable to hear any birds coming from my site.  The only noise I heard from birds came from crows outside the Stetson woods.  The only sounds I heard inside Stetson woods were from red squirrels that rustled the leaves.

Sounds aside, I noticed that over the past five days much of the highest parts of the trees had defoliated, and many more maples in my site gained a yellow hue.  Walking into the middle of my site I spotted several of the winged euonymus that had begun to turn red.  It was very striking, as in the middle of the woods, many of the small maples and white ash (I’m almost certain the trees I tried to identify before are white ash) had remained green.  The whole woods was experiencing fall from top to bottom, from outside to inside.

Leaving the Stetson Woods, I tried to walk quietly but crunched leaves loudly with every step.  I could not step making noise if I wanted to.  If only recording the sounds I wanted were quite as simple.