Look Closer…         By: Claudia Corona         10/07/09

I walked on a path of red and gold today. No, not of carpets, but of leaves. Yellow leaves, gold leaves, red leaves, leaves in-between, lay on the Ford Glen Brook path as well as around the trees, no longer scattered but piling up. Where a week ago, I could once see the bedrock beneath my feet and the soil smearing my boots, I now saw leaves.

I wondered why there were so many more leaves on the ground now, and the wind patiently answered my question tickling my ears and moving a few strands of my hair. It was a persistent wind, and the leaves were in no mood to resist staying on their branches after having worked all year, so they gave in and fell, thus coloring a once boring brown ground into a red and gold one, making anyone traversing the path feel humbled to be in the presence of such beautiful natural change.

It was loud, and too quiet, at the same time. The leaves I stepped on lacked the melodious crunching sound of “foot on leaf”. I could hear that Ford Glen Brook however, demanded attention. I walked over to it, and noticed that the brook was definitely much fuller than it was a week ago. It then became clear to me that the volume of the rushing water had made its sound more pronounced and mighty, explaining all its attention-seeking uproar.

But I had a mission today. My task was to see or hear fauna. So I treaded the trail as quietly as I could and when I thought I had gone far enough into the forest, I stopped. I looked to my left for about ten minutes and just as I was about to call it quits, out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. Something yellowish fluttered down from a birch tree. The beat of my heart quickened at the hope of having spotted a bird. It twirled in the air, but it had no wings, no body, no head; it was a leaf, gliding to the ground. I talk about this because it happened several times in the thirty minutes I spent looking for fauna, ten minutes on each side (left, center, right). I would be looking at one place to see if I could spot an Eastern chipmunk like I had my first visit here, or maybe hear a woodpecker like I had my second visit, but nothing! Briefly, I could hear crows cackling in the distance, but they weren’t in my site, so they don’t count, technically.

Continuing my stroll on the red and gold carpet I briefly wondered if it was opposite day. At least, that was my take on the sights before me. Many fallen logs that were once dark brown were now covered in luscious green fungi. The fungi felt soft and rugged, and had a rotten smell to it. But the interesting thing was that blotches of fungi only covered the top half of the log; there were very few patches of fungi on the bottom half, and rarely on on the bottom sides.  I noticed the same thing on fallen logs with the polypore (mushroom without a stalk) mushrooms growing on them, they only grew on the top or on the upper sides, acting as soft white selves, but none occupied the bottom half. The wood that hosted both the fungi and the mushrooms felt damp, just like the leaves felt wet and I discerned another relationship in my site.

Filling up the brook wasn’t the only thing that the recent rain had done! As it fell down on the ground, it not only soaked the leaves and trees; it also signaled a green light for the fungi and mushroom bacteria, which took advantage of the moist state of fallen logs and decaying trees. The fungi and mushrooms sprouted all over the damp logs and then reproduced where it was wet, which would be the top half, because this was the target place of falling rain!

It is amazing how nature works! I thought that nothing was going on today at Ford Glen Brook, but that was only a facade. If you look closer, you can see plenty of activity, from fungi reproduction to red carpet leaf making to water volume rising, it is happening. We just have to look at the small things sometimes to be able to explain the big picture.

Today, I decided to try a different approach to analyzing my site. I started out to Tyler House Woods slightly later than usual, around six in the afternoon. The sky was just beginning to shift to the darker colors of night, but it was still before sunset.

As I began my ascent up Tyler Road, I heard the barking of dogs. They were most likely the same dogs that I had seen chasing the deer a week earlier. Their barking pierced the night’s silence, along with the continuous chirping of crickets.

The parking lot was more crowded than usual, and there was more activity as the residents of Tyler House returned for the night. The lights of Tyler were on and their golden light illuminated the parking lot. From one window came the faint beat of music, and I could hear murmurs of conversations within.

I continued to the edge of Tyler Woods. The sky was getting slightly darker, and the glow of the street lights was slowly becoming visible. I sat down on the curb separating the parking lot and the woods. In my other reports, I was relying too much on my sight, looking at things, identifying them, and then listing them. This time, I wanted to focus on the atmosphere of the site instead of just making lists of plant life.

I closed my eyes, as I did so, the symphony of cricket chirps again filled my ears, and, as if keeping beat, a stead crackling sound interrupted the chirps as leaves fell from the tree tops and slowly floated to the forest floor.

Adding to the music was the wind. I listened as it traveled from one side of the forest to the other, rustling the tops of the trees as it went. It was not just one loud rushing sound, but I could hear the wind approach, coming closer and closer as it moved above the tree tops.  Its strength seemed almost overpowering as it forced the trees to bow at its command, and the leaves too obeyed as they were ripped from the branches and tossed downwards to the forest floor.  I breathed in deeply the cool, night air and for once felt a part of my site, not as an observer, but as a living, breathing part of Tyler Woods.

I opened my eyes and stood up from the curve. With my journal in hand, I walked from the pavement into the forest. As I walked, the sound of the leaves crunching under my feet was almost deafening. There were definitely more freshly fallen leaves covering the ground since last week. With the stillness and quiet of the night, I could hear more than usual. The small animals which usually eluded my eyes could now be heard rustling through the fall leaves. They were most likely small chipmunks and squirrels rummaging through the debris. There were no signs of birds as the sun was going down and all the birds had gone in for the night.

As I made my way through the periwinkle valley, a pair of bright, sparkling eyes shined in the distance. A small, tan colored cat stood on the path. Its muscles were tensed and it stood frozen as it noticed me. I crouched on one knee, trying not to frighten it, and slowly crawled toward the cat. Yet, every step forward I made the cat made one step backward. I decided to give up and stood up to leave, and the cat, now certain that it was free from danger, decided to curl up on the path and sleep.

Going later in the day exposed me to a new side of my sight. I felt connected in a way that I was not before. It was not just about looking at the sight and identifying what was there. That approach, although useful makes one somewhat detached from the sight, but to take time to sit and try to feel a part of the site was something I had not accomplished before. It is now a place I want to go to, not just for class, but to find peace and tranquility.

Stephen Maier

Thursday, 10 October 2009

Today, Thursday, October 10^th, is the first dry day of the week. There is no rain and no moisture on the ground. It is a perfect day to venture into the woods, as the sun is out with few clouds blocking, the temperature is around 60°F, and I finally have some downtime. I approach the West Clark Woods with a mission: I want to focus on the animals and small life in the vicinity. I have had great luck over the past four weeks in these woods locating fauna and forest life and I hope today will be no different. This feeling of fortune travels throughout my body as I approach the entrance. It’s going to be a good day! I gaze ahead towards the summit of Stone Hill and I see horses and cows grazing in the land while humans walk through. Animal life should be booming today. Seeing these animals on the hill seems to confirm that the animals appreciate the weather too.

I enter the site at 1:45 p.m. and immediately seek out the large tracks I had spotted on my visit last week. I trust they will provide insight about these woods. As I traverse the woods descending the hill to the northwest, I get my first glimpse of small life. A tiny, half-inch spider with all eight legs in tact crawls across the blank page of my journal. I wish I had seen from where he had come, but just seeing him is satisfying enough. As he inspects the white paper, I wonder, Why is it that little insects like to use my things as landing pads? First a dragonfly landed on my computer. Subsequently a fly took advantage of the white keyboard. A tussock moth caterpillar somehow crept onto a page of my journal without my noticing. Now, this spider scrambles on the page… I am pleased, for my luck with the wild has yet to run out.

I follow the tracks to the path I had discovered last week. I navigate through the now familiar woods on this small trail with what seem to be horse-hoof prints. A large pile of feces, just off the trail, supports my speculation, but I refuse to conclude these are horses until I actually see a horse or two in these woods. The path leads to an open grove on a small hill with scattered eastern hemlocks. I notice a small opening at the bottom of the slope, so I pursue it. Smaller tracks lead to a tiny clearing, perhaps 5’x5’. I find an abundance of Japanese barberry shrubs and apples scattered on the forest floor. My mind wanders. What animals would eat berries and/or apples and has four-toed tracks much smaller than those of a horse? Perhaps there are foxes, coyotes, deer, or some other small animals here that visit when I’m gone.

I take a break from my investigating. I lie supine beneath the hemlocks in the grove. It only takes a minute or two before my mind begins to question again. I am certain that there are bears in the Berkshires, but do any of them call the West Clark Woods home? This would be prime real estate for them. The hemlocks are thick enough to climb; the branches appear strong enough to support their weight and the tree limbs are plentiful enough to assist in the ascent.

While I am busy thinking, several birds begin to sing and disrupt my thought processes. I wait a little while, closing my eyes to enjoy their songs and their voices seem to be growing louder. Slowly, I turn around to peak. There are about six small, brown birds with black and white faces in the thickets behind me. They appear to be searching for food. These birds were not the only wildlife keeping me company, though. On the hill in the grove, I see the tail of a squirrel darting up a tree. It suddenly stops, then begins calling up the tree. I have never heard a squirrel make a sound prior to now and I am shocked. It is now 2:45 p.m. and I decide to leave. On my way out, a small red squirrel sits on a downed tree munching on an acorn. If we could communicate, I’d tell him to enjoy his lunch. I never did see the horse, but I will be back next week with high hopes.

10/9/09

As I walk into the environs of Wall’s Pond today, I’m struck instantly by the fiery red maple at the north end of the pond, which has begun to shed a large number of leaves and is now fully engulfed in an autumnal inferno of bright orange and red. It’s a cool day, temperature in the mid-fifties. The wind makes it feel cooler, though, and the steady rain this week has left the ground soft, moist and springy. The sky is a dull, concrete gray, and the chromatic explosion at the north end of the pond is made that much more dramatic in contrast to the slate skies.
Other changes foliage include a little more yellow and light orange interspersed among the beeches and maples along the west side cow fence and the maples at the entrance. The vegetation around the edge of the pond is looking a bit browner than last week, although the ferns and shrubs along the southwest shoreline retain the same verdancy I noticed in my first visit.  The water lilies and lily pads continue to dwindle slowly. They also look browner and there are far fewer closed water lilies than last week. Those that remain are all open, as if to gather up as much sun as possible before the cold really sets in.
The most dramatic shift from last week is on the south shore of the pond where a once-vertical white pine has tilted, Pisa-style, a good 45 degrees into the water. I walk over to it to investigate. It appears that the roots on the inside (pond side) of the tree have lost their footing, that is to say, water and time have eroded the soil underneath the tree and caused it to lean precariously out over the pond. It doesn’t look recent and I worry that I may have simply overlooked what now seems to be a very dramatic natural event. I can’t be sure. I wonder whether all the wind and weather this week perhaps exacerbated what was already an unstable condition for the tree. It’s not out of the question and for a moment I imagine big chop on this pond kicked up by a windstorm in the middle of the night, crashing endlessly against the tall pine and finally succeeding in undermining its defenses. A fantasy, to be sure, as there’s simply not enough fetch (surface area over which waves can increase) on this pond to raise any real chop with the wind we had this week.
As for “small things” I observed surprisingly few insects today. In general the occasional bumblebee or dragonfly joins me, but today my only winged companions are a few gnats by the shore and a solitary mosquito that follow me as I make my rounds. The bugs all move sluggishly, as though slowed down by the dropping temperatures and shorter days. I hear the low, constant chirp of crickets by the water’s edge but never see an individual.
The animals are similarly scarce, possibly put off by the rainy day throngs at the art museum. Indeed, humans are the most noticeable animal life in the area around the pond today; even the mallards are nowhere to be seen. I do, however, spot a small eastern chipmunk, about 5-9 inches long, flitting about in the shrubs along the south shore. Thereabouts I also see a good-sized gray squirrel that I later spot again, running along the fence that bounds the east side of the meadow and the backyards of the South St. houses. I wander into some hemlocks a few yards outside the fence separating the pond from the rest of the Clark campus, just to see what else I can see. Atop one of the hemlocks sits a lone crow, cawing. It flies away as I walk over, but another swoops in soon to take its perch. Among the hemlocks, some unseen activity in the high branches brings a steady shower of pinecones down on me and I soon leave the area.
I circled the pond several times before going, looking for anything small and alive, and finding nothing. As I left for the day I glimpsed two Holsteins roaming the field at the foot of Stone Hill, safely on the other side of the fence. A disappointing show for my site, to be sure, but I eagerly await a night visit and (hopefully) some more animal company.

Syndicate Road Woods – October 9, 2009 – 9:00 A.M.

As soon as I step out of Mission it begins to rain.  The sky is overcast, the air is damp, and the temperature is about 50 degrees Fahrenheit, so I realize why it was not Mountain Day today.  Walking to the site, I already notice some changes from the previous week.  The leaves are now a much deeper yellow than before, and many of them form a colorful, crunchy blanket over the sidewalk.  I also notice that the New York aster on the east side of Syndicate Road that caught my attention last week with its brilliant light-blue coloring now appears duller and its blooms have shriveled.  I hear the rain pounding faster against the leaves, but under the canopy of trees I am now safe and dry.  I identify the leaves that have fallen to the ground as maple, beech and elm, and begin to search for their mother trees.  At first I was surprised not to see any oak trees or leaves, but then I notice a tall oak at the northeast corner of the wood which still retains many of its leaves.  I also observe more coniferous trees in the wood, whose green needles are now more apparent against the autumn colored backdrop.  Many of the shrubs that are very populous in the Syndicate Road Woods are still green.  This makes me wonder if they are exotic plants, which would account for their quantity and their green leaves.  Many of the small trees, which I believe to be elms, also retain their green color.

Heading closer to the stream, I can hear the results of the recent rain as the water flows noisily out from under Syndicate Road through the culvert.  I see that some orange foam has again gathered near the culvert, and I wonder its cause.  What then immediately catches my attention is a small tree with bright pink leaves.  The leaves are growing in an opposite growth pattern but droop towards the ground in a floppy manner.  This tree may be a sumac.  Near to the stream, I see something I hadn’t noticed before.  Halfway up the trunk of a tall trembling aspen is a growth of large green leaves that look a bit like maples.  They seem to be connected to vines growing from the ground which then twist around the trunk of the aspen as well.  I wonder if this plant is killing the tree, or if the two are living in harmony. 

Although I do not see any animals besides an ant scurrying down a log, I do notice the absence of the mosquitoes that pestered me during the beginning of September.  I do, however, spot holes at the bases of many trees that appear to be chipmunk homes.  Birds chirp all around me, but I can only pick out a few specific calls.  First, a bird makes a shrill chirp in an even rhythm about once every three seconds.  Another joins in with a deeper, more frequent chirp about two times per second.  And of course, I hear the caws of many crows hidden among the tree branches.

This time I decide to explore a new exit from the woods, and I head east towards the Poker Flats field.  I come across a small trench emerging southeast from the stream which contains no water.  The trench also comes to a stop about twenty feet from the stream.  I wonder if this trench was formed by humans or as a result of natural causes.  Exploring further, I find that the eastern side of the wood is much different than the western side.  There are fewer shrubs and small trees on the east side, which makes the atmosphere much more open.  The small trees that are present have been stripped of their leaves, which could be a result of seasonal changes but is probably due to the presence of deer who like to eat the leaves close to the ground.  This side of the wood also has a higher ratio of conifers to deciduous plants, and their dead needles and pine cones cover the ground.  I find a new type of tree with large heart-shaped leaves which I cannot seem to identify.  I then come across a circular indent of land that is a bit deeper than the surrounding terrain.  It runs about 15 feet North/South and 10 feet East/West.  Although it is dry, I believe that it was once filled with water, and I wish to explore its purpose further.  Perhaps it is even a vernal pool.

Field Bolg Journal 3

Jon Levinsohn

It was October 9^th, 2009, a little after 10:00 am. It was about 12^O C, the sky was overcast and it began drizzling after about 15 minutes. The cemetery was being mowed on a sit-down-lawn-mower for the whole duration of my stay, a train whistle blared for a few minutes, the rushing of the Green River was louder than normal, and traffic on route 2 and route 43 could be heard, all of this made it difficult to focus on the bird songs.

The first noteworthy sighting was slightly outside my site, on the bridge connecting the cemetery to route 43. A group of third-graders were gathered at the far end of the bridge staring at the center of the bridge. Along the guardrail, about 6 meters away from me, and halfway between the sides of the bride perched what I believe to be a red-tail hawk. It looked more brownish than red-tail hawks I have seen before, and it was very large up close; from head to the end of its tail was probably a little shy of half a meter. The hawk seemed perturbed by the third graders and me. It spastically turned its head trying to scope out both ends of the bridge as quickly as possible. After several minutes, the hawk finally glided down to some rocks along the Green River, where it watched us from a distance in a far less agitated state.

I moved along to my site, and I had never seen so many birds at my sight before. I first saw two blue jays perched on a small maple tree. Silently, one inched toward the other. Suddenly, both took off, one trailing the other by a third of a meter flying with seeming reckless abandon as they weaved through trees and shrubs. Such games of chase quickly became a theme. I immediately started to notice many, many bird songs, most of which I cannot identify or even give an adequate description a sound that resembled rattling, which seemed to be orchestrated as a call and response between two birds. I did hear the call of the catbird, and subsequently saw many of these birds, but I could not observe any of them for very long as they were constantly moving from tree to tree and the foliage has not yet fallen. I saw a small woodpecker (perhaps 10 cm long from head to tail), though I could not get a good enough view to further determine the species. It perched in only dead branches, and would work its way around the branch in a circular method such that it made sure that it had pecked at every point along the circumference of the branch. I was astounded to the speed at which it pecked the branch; its head became a whir. A brownish colored red-tail hawk (which I believe to be the same one that was earlier perched on the bridge) then passed over the woods, gliding slowly, but the bird songs went uninterrupted. I heard melodic whistling, which proved enjoyable to hear, but unhelpful in identifying the birds. I heard and the “chick-a-dee-dee-dee” of the black capped chickadee, and saw several on my walk out of the cemetery. I then spent a few minutes confusing the fruit of the sumac tree with a cardinal, and decided to turn my attention to the ground, upon realizing my ineptitude and sore neck.

I immediately noticed mayfly hovering lazily among the leaves of a sumac, which seemed like an easy meal for a hungry bird. A squirrel darted out of the woods briefly, near the location where I have seen a small animal hole. It appeared to be reddish and small, but most striking about the small animal was the lack of fur on its tail. Losing such fur as it starts to get cold seems to be a poor survival strategy, though who am I to argue with millions of years of evolution.

As I started to leave, I noticed that the Norway maple seem to still be very far behind the other trees in terms of their leaves turning colors; they were still very green (with tar spots).

Gordon Smith

Natural History of the Berkshires

10/06/09

Field Blog #3: Mission Park

On Tuesday when I went to my field site between 4:30 and 5 pm, the weather was partly cloudy, and a slight breeze was blowing through. While I was there, I paid attention to two main aspects: the recent changes that were occurring in my site, and the faunal activity that was going on in the area.

A stroll around my site did not reveal too many drastic changes to the area’s flora. Some changes that I did notice were that one sugar maple on the east edge of the site was much more fully yellow now: I would estimate about three fourths of the leaves were no longer green. Additionally, the sensitive ferns seem much lighter in color than they were a week or two ago, and several patches of goldenrod flowers have mysteriously appeared on the western edge. I say mysterious because I had not before seen any plants even resembling the ones that are now growing happily. Most likely I simply missed them before they started flowering.

In my search for animal life, I first simply sat down by a tree quietly and watched. In a few minutes I had observed several mosquitoes and other flying insects in rays of light, taken note of some deer droppings close by, and seen a number of playful squirrels. These furry critters participated in a large number of different tasks as I continued to observe them. First they were just walking along the ground, traveling from tree to tree most likely for various purposes. At several intervals, I watched them dig in different spots looking for their stores, but none of the digging that I could see yielded any result. They soon tired of this, however, and began playing what seemed to be a game of one chasing the other, then the other turning around and chasing the first. This went on for several minutes before they disappeared into a tree.

At this point, curious that I had seen so few ground insects as I sat and with no large rocks to turn over, I picked up a stick and dug myself a small hole, hoping to see some interesting grubs. The first layer of the ground was about an inch of leaf litter and pine needles that was reasonably damp and stayed clumped together reasonably solidly. Under this layer was the dirt itself, which was dry and rocky. The rocks were small, about the size of gravel, and were of all sorts of different materials. There was also some broken brown bottle glass mixed in, which was interesting to see an inch below the surface, but not altogether too surprising given the college surroundings.

Overall, I dug down about 10 centimeters into the dirt itself, but still found no evidence of ground dwelling grubs or other insects; only roots, rocks, and dry dark brown dirt. At this point I gave up with my little hole, but luckily as I was filling it in, an interesting creature landed on my field journal. It was a sort of tiny, yellowish, translucent worm-like caterpillar type insect. It was about 4-5 millimeters long, and maybe 1 mm wide, and I think it had 10 pairs of feet (I forgot my hand lens, unfortunately). Interested, I played with this grub for a while. His basic reflex if something poked him was to let go of the leaf or whatever surface he was on, and to fall while holding onto the leaf with a strand of silk. This silk, interestingly, seemed to come from his mouth rather than from his tail, (as I would have guessed) assuming that it walks with its head forward. After it lands on some surface, it almost looks as if the caterpillar were eating the silk it used as a falling mechanism: its head moves in a way that makes me think as if it were pulling the string down into its mouth. If this letting go tactic fails to cause the caterpillar to fall, it simply curls up quickly, then immediately fully extends again and moves quickly away.

Eventually, I allowed the likely traumatized bug go on its way, and continued my general observation hoping for another such interesting encounter. Unfortunately, all I saw were a few tiny black ants.

Throughout this time, I had also been listening to the birds, but only two voices called during my entire visit.

                I left for Tyler House Woods on September 24^th at 4:15 P.M. It was again another sunny, warm day with little to no rain throughout the previous week. The woods are approximately five minutes from Mission and off Tyler Road. I began my map at Tyler Road, which curves up a slight incline to Tyler House. While walking, I could hear the Ultimate Frisbee team practicing in the distance, and a few people road bikes or cars up to Tyler House.

                I stopped for a moment to begin drawing Tyler Road, the first part of my map. As I looked around, I saw that there were four deer grazing in the field on my left. They were gathered on the opposite side of the road near a small house. I set my things down on the sidewalk and went to take a closer look.

                Of the four deer, there was one adult and three fawns. The fawns stayed clustered together as the doe trekked ahead. They heard me as I noisily plodded through the grass and dead leaves, but they didn’t seem alarmed. The deer remained calm and at peace until two black Labradors came bounding out of the house. They chased the deer across the field, and the deer fled across the road. It was then that I noticed from their white tails that they were white tailed deer. The deer made it safely to the field next to Tyler House, and the dogs stopped their chase.

                I continued on my way to the Tyler parking lot. There were a few cars there and some people going to and from Tyler House. While standing in the parking lot, I noticed a path that I had not seen before. I decided to take it to see where it led to. I have decided to name this path Huckleberry Path, as it is surrounded by huckleberry bushes. I also found more trash on this path which included bottles, cans, and a Butterfinger wrapper. The path led to another parking lot next to a red bricked house, which had a small black and white cat staring out of the window.

                I then returned to the Huckleberry Path and walked on a side path which connects the Huckleberry Path with the main path, which I’ll call Tyler Path. This side path passes by the Barred Owl Tree where I saw the barred owl. The owl was not there that day, but I did notice something new about the tree. There were lots of holes in the tree which suggests that a woodpecker lives nearby. I wonder what type of woodpecker made these holes? The Barred Owl Tree stands on top of an embankment which is covered by fallen trees, decaying logs, and one paper birch.

                Further down the path is the Periwinkle Valley, where there is a large amount of periwinkle. There is no longer any sign of the purple flower of the periwinkle since the blooming season is over. The Periwinkle Valley then runs into Tyler Path, which is next to a small street lamp. The rest of Tyler Woods is dominated by a tree which looks to be sugar maple and some sort of oak. The trees here still haven’t changed much in color, so it’s still somewhat difficult to tell the species of the trees. Besides trees, there are very few plants to the right of Tyler Path. The ground is mostly covered by dead leaves and small twigs, although there were a few ferns which may have been the New York fern.

                At the very back of Tyler Woods is a fence, which separates the woods from the houses beyond. There are also two more paths near this fence. One path leads to the houses, and the other path, which is less distinct, leads to a clearing behind Tyler House. It was here that I saw one of the white tailed deer again. I also noticed other mammals within the woods including two grey squirrels and one eastern chipmunk.

                Some species of plants and animals are still unknown to me, so I hope to continue to add to my map as I identify them. I have also come to a greater understanding of how drawing can increase one’s understanding of a subject. Whether it is a living organism or an inanimate object, drawing forces the observer to look at a subject in a new way.

            Tyler House Woods, although still wild and natural, is affected by the people and dwellings which surround it. I believe the influence man has played on these woods has affected the plants and animals which live within its boundaries, for while walking through Tyler House Woods, I saw multiple signs of man and their influence on the plant life there.

            I started out to Tyler House Woods on September 12^th, 2009 at around three o’clock in the afternoon. The weather, at the time, was cloudy. There had been a slight drizzle earlier in the day, but the rain had stopped for now. Walking toward Tyler House Woods, I came upon Tyler House and a parking lot occupied by multiple cars. The parking lot is only a few feet from the site, making it easy for human activity to affect the plants and animals of the woods.

            Upon entering the site, I noticed that there were lots of dead foliage on the forest floor, mostly dead leaves, sticks and twigs, and rotting logs. Along the curb, where the cement met the woods, a line of ants trailed across the ground. Other insects present included an American Bumble Bee and mosquitoes.

            Bordering the woods, were Spice Bushes and White Snakeroot. I spotted the American Bubble Bee flying around the blossoms of the White Snakeroot. Deeper into the woods, I noticed that the trees were, for the most part, deciduous such as the Silver Maple and the Red Maple. The leaves were mostly green, and there were very few signs of color change. I spotted one cone which looked like it could belong to one of the variety of Spruce trees.

            Besides the large trees that were growing there, there were also many young trees growing beneath the shade of the older ones. These trees may have been planted by people, or they may have grown naturally. Either way, it shows that the Tyler House Woods is thriving. These saplings may also be replacing those trees which were cut down. Remnants of these trees, such as the remaining stumps and dead logs, can be seen on the forest floor.

            Besides trees, there were also different types of foliage that covered the ground. This foliage included Bracken, Periwinkle, and Calico Aster. A large patch of Periwinkle was present at the back of the site, but only a few blooms could be seen.

            Next to the Periwinkle, there was a manmade path, which led to a house beyond the woods. To the right of the path, there was also a fence and a shed. I also found some remnants of a glass bottle and a little paper and trash. With the woods surrounded by homes and because it is accessible by a path, one can see how easily the woods can be influenced by human existence.

            Between the path and the small shed were a cluster of trees. One of these trees was dead and had smooth, white bark. Upon this tree, perched, what looked to be, a Barred Owl. It sat calm and still as a number of other birds sang nearby, which included a flock of geese, which momentarily flew above the woods. In addition to birds, I also saw one grey squirrel wandering around a little outside the bounds of my site.

            Tyler House Woods is a site rich with a variety of plants and animals, many of which I probably missed on my first outing, and from the looks of the small saplings growing within the woods and the presence of people within close proximity to the site, I believe Tyler House Woods is still a growing and changing site effected both by nature and people.

Field Blog Journal 2

Jon Levinsohn

It was October 2^nd, 2009 at 9:15 am. It was cold–less than 10^O C, and partly cloudy. There was a slight breeze. It had rained several times in the past week, ending the dry spell that lasted for the first half of September. Sadly, I had come down with a nasty cold and could not smell a thing; my nose was stuffed up. Instead, I focused my entire effort upon looking for what had changed in the past week changes at my site.

The first striking change was the change in color of the trees in the graveyard. There were several shades of yellow and orange on the Norway maple’s and sugar maple’s leaves. What made the change in color interesting was that the Norway maple and sugar maple that were in the adjoining woods (albeit barely) had not changed color in the slightest. The black tar fungus still remained on the Norway maple leaves, but they were as green as they had been last week and the week before. I find it curious that the small difference in location (less than 100 meters) can effect the changing of leaves so profoundly; both the maples in the woods and those in the graveyard must get similar amounts of water and be subjected to the same temperature and day length. I would have predicted if there was any difference that the trees in the woods would change first, as they would get less sunlight due to competing with other plants. Sumac, which still had its bright maroon fruit, had changed, leaving a reddish hue on the leaves. The sensitive fern also looked more yellowed and browned than previous.

The green river seemed to be running higher than previously, due likely to the recent rain. Its green color is from specks of phyllite. I also recognized the marble rocks poking out of the ground at the mini-cliffs as marble, and likely Walloomsac marble.

I noticed freshly cut bundled white snakeroot laid on top of the older dead yard trimmings of oak braches and grass.  Those cut plants, along with the white snake root that was living at the edges of the woods had lost many of there flowers and had a white dandelion-like seeds in their place that had not yet blown away. The golden rod had also begun to lose some of its flowers, which turn brownish-yellow as they die.

I then went about identifying several of the plants that I had not been able to identify previously. I had mistaken a black walnut (which I was helped to identify by my fellow Burns Park Elementary graduate Prof. Edwards) for an ash due mainly to not having seen an ash in-person before the Stone Hill trip. The black walnut had nuts lying (a few were still on the tree) on the ground encased in a covering that caused them to look like a small lime in shape and in color. I saw some multiflora rose with its red berries. The pokeweed had lost most of its berries. Since I saw none on the ground, I assume that they were eaten. Small wild garlic mustard was at the very border of the graveyard and the woods, and it made me regret my anosmic situation. The bright orange bulbs previously described in my first field blog journal were the fruit of jack-in-the-pulpit. Finally, I also found some winged euyonamus, which unlike the winged euyonamus we observed on stone hill, had small red berries.

I also noticed some lichen, but no moss, on a large Norway maple. It faced the south, which also was the direction that the tree seemed to lean. I am curious as to why there is little moss in the area. The only time I have observed lichen and no moss was in exposed areas like the top of Monument Mountain. The woods bordering the cemetery are not exposed and would seem like they would be able to sustain moss.

I did see a small red squirrel, and hear a bird, I would hazard a guess that it was a cat bird, though I am far from sure of my identification.