Field Journal Blog #0

East Lawn Cemetery Woods

Jon Levinsohn

It was humid and the temperature was hovering just under 10 Celsius, but it was sunny with a few clouds littering the sky; the dew on the plants was easily visible. It was around 8 in the morning. I could hear the Green River– the rushing of water over rocks– and birds. The birds were loud, and their calls came without any break. I could not identify the calling species and I quickly stopped noticing them. I thought I might hear cars from nearby route two, but I cannot be sure. About 40 minutes later, the birds stopped, and I could hear a roar of what I think was an airplane.

The land itself is composed of a steep section that borders the cemetery, which levels out as it approaches the river. The dirt was packed fairly tight, but rocks and small lose clusters of dirt compound the difficult angle making descending to the flat region tricky. Along with the rocks, which were typically no larger than a several centimeters in diameter, there were matted dead leaves, especially along the steep section, and dead branches. I saw a large fallen tree, at least 20 feet tall, that looked like it was a Birch tree, though it’s white bark had faded into brown. There were a few animal holes leading into the hillside, though none seemed large enough to fit much more than a large chipmunk–no more than 5 cm in diameter.

The vegetation is dense making it difficult to closely inspect the regions further from the cemetery. Though several of the trees elsewhere in Williamstown have started to change their colors, the trees in this area seem to still firmly fall under the category of completely green. There is only one evergreen tree in the area that I noticed, it was short, and very wide, and it resided in the flatter section closer to the river. I cannot identify many plant species, but I was able to notice that there were some maples, about 3 or 4. All were mature, large, and lined the outer boundary between the cemetery and the woods—none had trunks located more than a few feet into the woods. These maples had helicopter-like seeds still attached, but had not seemed to have dropped any yet. Large black spots of about 2-3 cm in diameter are ubiquitous on the almost all of the maple leaves. I looked at some maples along my walk back to my dorm and do not see any spots on their leaves. There are some oak branches, with brown, crispy leaves under a maple tree, but I do not see any oaks. Next to these oak branches is a paper cup and some evergreen leaves. I think there might be yard trimmings, as they seem wholly out of place and are not far from well-manicured grass of the cemetery. Furthermore, I wonder about if the maples might have an been planted as they seem to fit in better with the trees around the cemetery than the other trees in the sections of woods.

Along the ground there are small bright orange bulbs in clusters of about a dozen, which were about 1 cm in diameter. There were flowers that were white and large, yellow and small, white and small, and purple and mid-sized.  I noticed several Sumacs complete with the red clusters of fuzzy looking tiny spheres, along the steep section. The large trees, small ferns and grape vine, with leaves punctured with holes, that had lost most of their grapes that dominates the steep section, seem to give way to more shrubbery and smaller trees no more than 15 or so feet tall. Some of these plants have berries–some bright red berries and some purple ones. I think that some of these smaller trees might be ash, but I cannot be sure. I cannot identify these plants. The area is small, but seems relatively diverse in its plant life. The only animal life I actually see is a large contingency of pesky mosquitoes, though I do see a spider’s web hanging between two maple braches.

Gordon Smith

Natural History of the Berkshires

9/13/09

0: Initial Site Description

For my site at Mission Park, the area I decided to investigate was the wedge-shaped section between the two paved paths leading south that has been let go to seed. This area has obviously been manipulated to certain extents by humans: there are beaten paths cutting though it, and it would be easy to suppose that at some point it has been mowed. There is not, however, evidence to suggest that animals are eating the plants in the area, which again would be true in the middle of the college campus.

As it stands now, the area in question contains a variety of plant species. There are approximately 20 trees, about half of which are deciduous, while the other half is coniferous. The conifers were all very similar, both in size and type, leading me to guess that they are all the same species of tree, though I do not know what species this is. The deciduous trees are a bit more varied. There is a large oak tree, several maples, including one whose leaf resembles that of a Canadian maple, and a few grey birches. Interestingly, it seemed that the coniferous trees were concentrated towards the center of the area in question, while the deciduous trees seemed to be on the edges. This may suggest that the deciduous trees are younger, growing up around the shaded edges of the conifers. This idea is supported by the fact that deciduous trees are more shade tolerant than conifers.

There was also a large amount of variety among the low-lying plants. The first distinction is between the plants in direct sunlight and those in the shade cover of the grove.

In the non-shaded area, the majority of the plant life was a tall, thick grass. Interspersed with this grass were several types of flowers. There were buttercups, a yellow flower that resembles a dandelion (though it is growing at the wrong time of the year) and a plant with many small, tubular, purple petals.

Under the trees was far less grass, and far more leafy plants. These plans included ferns, clovers, and other types of low lying leafy vegetation. The majority of the ferns were a bright but pale green in color, with rounded ruffles and with the fronds towards the tip connected. This type of fern was mostly found in large, dense patches on the west side of the area, though there was a patch on the east side. The other type of fern was sharper in its ruffles, darker in color, and less densely situated.

The clovers were scattered throughout the site, but the largest concentration of them was in a patch on the south edge, where they were also larger. Types included simple three leaved clovers, clovers with three heart-shaped leaves (that taste like lemon), and large, single leaved clovers.

The other leafy plants were concentrated mostly in the center of the grove. The two main types were a single stemmed plant with five leaves sprouting in different directions and a three-branched plant, each branch of which had three small leaves. These two types were found in almost all parts of the grove, but again were larger in dense patches in the center of the grove.

There was also a species of white flower that grew only in the shade of the trees. It is a small flower with a yellow center and about 10 thin white petals. These flowers, however, seem to be about at the end of their growth period, as many of them are missing some or all of their petals and are drooping considerably. Interestingly, these seem to be the only plants in this condition: all of the deciduous trees and low-lying plants still hold their summer vibrancy and health.

The only bare earth in the area is around the bases of a few coniferous trees in the center of the grove. This space is piled high with the remnants of pinecones: the scales as well as the cores litter the area.

October 1, 2009

Thursday 6:30 PM – 7:10 PM

I knew had a limited time to check out the woods because I saw the sun setting.   It was 50 degrees out and I had my head lamp just in case I wanted to stay a little later.  I was finally getting a better idea of how to mentally organize the plants I saw and I realized when I recognized a couple of plants at my site for the first time.  I spotted some winged-euonymus and multiflora rose growing in several places.  I also see a leaf in the shape of a pointed oval with serrated edges and a sandpapery roughness on top (I know I’ll have to take a sample to figure out what it is later).

In the midst of all of this, I see a brown moth, about 1 inch long.  I can’t identify it for certain, but I think I should return another time at night to see what else lurks when the sun is down.

October 2, 2009

Friday 3:29 PM – 4:33 PM

I arrived late this time, having to wake myself from a deep afternoon siesta.  Staying alert was difficult since a light rain had just fallen and sky was nothing but grey.  A few, inch high, brown mushrooms appear to perk up where I had previously seen none, but the moisture does not have the same effect on me.  I wonder, is the rain I smell really a smell, or is it really a lack of scent, all pollens and aromas to the ground in the precipitation?

Either way, I knew the mosquitoes could certainly smell me.  Be it my exhaled carbon dioxide or simply my movements, they knew I was nearby.  A large one landed on my jeans and I see it stands no chance of penetrating my denim.  It pauses beneath my left pocket, probing the small ripples in the fabric.  After about 7 seconds it seems to give up, but then moves down about 5 inches, and tries again.  Once again, it moves its proboscis to reach a gap with her supplemental iron.  I watch her systematically reach the bottom of my pant leg, hit my shoe, and begin coming up my leg 6 inches to the right, checking for gaps every 6-7 inches eventually reaching my shirt, following the same down, over, up, over… pattern again and again.  Unfortunately for this mosquito, its persistence ends with an interest in my face.   The same determination that suited her before, lands her on a soft spot atop my right cheek.  I swung my right hand onto my cheek, slapping myself and the mosquito, in the first of several injuries today.

The next occurred when I spiked my right hand on one the shrubby trees I saw in the interior.  It was one of a series of young black locust trees whose trunk spikes stick straight out about half an inch.  They also appear that they are growing very quickly; a small black locust has already begun to incorporate fallen branch into its bark.

The third injury came from one of the many multiflora roses who dot the interior of Stetson after which I literally tripped upon further evidence of past human activity.  Evidently, five of the small trees in the center of the lot stem from a single stump.  Following the branches out of the stump, I see a number of large leaves that resemble an ash, (I’ll return later and check out more).  Looking at the relatively (four or five years perhaps?) young growth of these trunk trees and the growth in the core of the site it seems as if people tried very hard to eradicate the growth in the middle of the Stetson.  I again wonder if this land once used for camping.

I think the site must have been ideal.  Wild garlic mustard dots the ground, and the scent reminds me of just the spices in its name.  A single solitary black birch marks a place next to the large (2-3 feet wide) rocks in a messy pile that sit on the southern side.  I can almost imagine a campfire in the low flat area in the center of the woods with hotdogs and birch beer.  You could sleep in the Northwestern quadrant on soft ground interrupted only be a few shistos rocks.  If no one had camped here before, then I would like to be the first.

On October 1^st, around 4:00 P.M., I set out again for Tyler House Woods. The weather was cloudy and around 50 degrees Fahrenheit. As I came upon Tyler Woods, I noticed how fresh and cool the air smelt. It was a rejuvenating feeling to breathe in air that felt so clean and soothing, a feeling that cannot always be replicated within the city. It was the smell of autumn. Signs of autumn were also evident in the trees which had finally begun to change color. Right in front of me, as I walked up Tyler Road, was a sugar maple adorned in a gown of bright orange. It was the first tree that had changed color in my site. At the foot of the maple, were also a number of asters in bloom, and next to the asters were the honeysuckle bushes which were still producing their small, red berries.

Walking down Tyler Path, I noticed that there were more bottles today, and I could still smell the faint aroma of beer coming from the bottles. While examining these bottles, I stepped on a log, which crumbled underneath my feet. I again noticed that on the right side of Tyler Path, most of the ground is covered in rotting debris; I noticed the smell of these rotting materials gave off a moist, earthy smell which permeated throughout most of the woods.

Further down the slope, I found a pile of rocks scattered around a few sugar maples. I took out my pocket knife and began to scratch at them to see if I could identify them. The first rock was round and smooth, and my knife left no scratches on its surface. I realized that this rock was quartzite. Looking around, I noticed that there were many samples of quartzite within the area. I moved on to another rock which looked different from the quartzite. I took my pocket knife out again and began to scratch at its surface. This time the knife made an impact. I could now see multiple scratches on the rock’s surface. I also noticed that the rock looked somewhat layered, and, with my knife, I was able to break off small slices. I concluded that this rock was schist.

After examining the pile of rocks, I made my way to Periwinkle Valley. By now, the Periwinkle blossoms were now all gone and just the leaves were left. I did smell a sweet perfume-like smell, like that from a flower. Yet, besides the asters, few flowers were present.

I then walked through the Periwinkle Valley to the Barred Owl Tree. I have not seen the barred owl since my first sighting, but while I was climbing one of the fallen trees near where I saw the owl, I noticed a few droppings within one of the nooks of the tree. Whether these were from the barred owl, the grey squirrels, or the many chipmunks that I see frequently within my site, I cannot be sure. I also have not seen any sign of the woodpecker which has left multiple marks around Tyler Woods.

While jumping down from the tree, I frightened a chipmunk, probably the fifth chipmunk I had seen that day. I then made my way past the Barred Owl Tree to the houses beyond. A sweet smell was coming from the house which smelled something like fabric softener, another reminder of how people have a direct impact on the atmosphere within Tyler Woods.

As I began to leave Tyler Woods I received one more new surprise. Just under the honeysuckle bushes, I saw a small rabbit chewing on the grasses which grew beside the road. It scampered away just as I took a picture. I believe the rabbit had white fur under its tail, making it a cottontail, but I cannot be entirely sure.

An hour after I had arrived, the last thing I heard was the bark of a dog in the distance, and the smells, sounds, and sights of Tyler Woods were left behind.

Something New Every Time….           By: Claudia Corona     10/02/09

Twenty-five days. That’s the difference between my first journal entry and my present one. A month hasn’t even passed since I first came to Hopkins Forest, but I’m already starting to see things that my eyes had ignored before. I think back to my first encounter with this forest and I marvel at how the forest shows me something new every time I come back.

In my first entry I proclaimed that there were few different plant and wildflower species in Hopkins Forest, but as I walk down the trail and towards the brook, my eyes show me differently. I identified over 20 different plant species in my site along the Ford Glen Brook (with the help of my peers and professor).

One of the first things that caught my eye was a Jack In The Pulpit, a plant with an onion-like stout shooting up from the ground with a cluster of berries all around the top. I could see why birds were so attracted to this plant, the berries were bright red, as if to say, “Eat Me!”, and I would have, had I not been previously told it wasn’t tasty to humans and when I squeezed the berries, they didn’t have an edible smell to them.

However the Northern Bedstraw I had seen earlier, recognized by their long plant stems with clustered white flowers in a ball-shaped form, had a sweet smell to them and apparently are edible (good for survival purposes).

Continuing on the trail, I felt like I was in a game of hide-n-seek with the plants, since I was trying to discern what they were. I looked closer at the plants cluttered about the sides of the trail, and I immediately spotted some Northern Lady Fern, with its fronds (fern leaves) tripinate (feather-like leaves) still dark green. This is not to be confused with the Christmas Fern, another plant I saw, known by its stout stalks and evergreen lanced-shaped toothed fronds.

Next to the fern was a Striped Maple, spotted because of its huge leaves (of 6 inches). The leaves were crown-shaped with 3 pointy elf-like ear lobes. On the left side of the path, I spotted (gotcha!) some white wildflowers. But upon closer observation, they were two different plants of the Aster Family. One was White-snake root; white rayless, toothed flowers, clustered together on firm smooth branches. The other was White-wood aster, with many white rays around a yellowish disk, there were few flowers per branch.

Ahead there were some other white flowers but with a purplish center and heart-shaped leaves known as Heart-leaved aster. Next to it was the dreaded shrub honeysuckle (an invasive species) with its simple oval evergreen leaves. I was not able to discern much more about it as the shrubs no longer had their infamous bell-shaped flowers. Opposite that, on the left side of the road were various shrubs of Japanese Barberry, known for their long tree stems that grow very small leaves (about 1-2 cm) as with bright red egg-shaped berries hanging from the stem.

At the beginning of my journaling, I was under the impression that there weren’t rocks here, but boy was I wrong!  As the trail slopes down at the beginning there is a tough patch of dirt, tougher than the dirt farther into the forest. I decided to check it out and removed the dirt from one small site. To my surprise, I found a rock-solid floor! Apparently, the fact that this was on a slope eroded most of the soil and leaves here, which left a thin layer of dirt on solid rock. I wasn’t able to take a sample from the rock, but later on, down by the brook, I found two types of rocks. One could easily be scratched by my pocket knife, this was phyllite, known for being shiny, with crinkly brittle rocks layers. The other almost broke my knife’s edge, leading me to believe it was quartzite; light, hard, and knife-proof.

I noticed that the ground was still damp from the recent rain. The air smelled of moist wood bark and wet soil. It smelled of dead plants and rotten leaves. The rain must have kicked up dust from the ground because there was definitely a stronger earthly smell than usual. But it no longer smelled of summer flowers, but of autumn fresh, a scent I’ve never familiarized being from a downtown urban city, but now find comforting, crisp, and calming.

Stephen Maier

It is Thursday, October 1, 2009, and the summer-like weather is waning away. Autumn is but a week old yet it feels as though summer left us months ago. My focus this afternoon is on scents in the woods. However, Diane Ackerman notes in her book, Smell, that human dependence on the sense of smell diminished when humans emerged from the water and grew upright, and when “vision and hearing became more important for survival.” Smell is no longer as vital a function for us to survive, so I approach my assignment somewhat skeptically. The cold is going to hinder my capability of smelling, but I will sniff through it. It is about 50°F and overcast with a firm breeze.

I enter the West Clark Woods at 2:20 p.m. at the same spot as my last visit here nearly two weeks ago, September 19^th. It has become a familiar exit from the fast-paced college life and an entry to a pacifying, carefree, natural world. Upon first glance, it appears not much has changed. So I walk down the hill to the water to investigate. During my descent I notice something different. I crouch down to determine if my instincts are correct, and judging by the smell emitted from this substance, I believe it is feces, just as I had suspected. It looks much nicer in a clump on the forest floor than smeared beneath the soles of my sneakers, so in this moment I am happy. I continue down to the water’s edge and find that the water level has risen significantly over the past two weeks. The New England Asters near the banks are no longer growing, but the multitude of asters about ten feet offshore is still very colorful. The yellow birch living on the island is no longer colorful like it had been before, for its leaves have all “fall-en.” I look up above me to see if anything else has fully shed its leaves, but it appears that this particular birch is the only tree totally naked. Nearly all of the yellow birches around me, which were green two weeks ago, are half green-half yellow conjuring up a comparison to lemon-lime Gatorade. There is one mussel wood, the only non-hemlock or birch in the vicinity, with tough, gray bark and its green leaves have mostly changed to orange.

There are two large beds of rocks at the site. One sits in a shallow pool of water slightly uphill and northeast of the wetland. It is full of quartzite rocks, all similar to the next, with three phyillite rocks mixed in. It appears that these rocks were moved together by some weather, or they were dumped at this particular location in this odd but unique formation. The other patch of rocks forms an outline to what looks to be a downhill stream or outlet of running water. These rocks, also quartzite, align linearly and lead me to believe that water from the grazing land outside of the woods runs downhill looking for a place to settle and uses this line as its path to the wetland at the bottom of the hill. The wetland must be sourced by precipitation running from higher elevation, such as the top of Stone Hill. I find a path cut through the brush and follow it in search of an outlet for this water. It leads to a different bank of the wetland, this time looking from the north. However, I can’t find an escape route for the water so I surmise this must be its final resting place. The most curious feature of this idle water is it’s surprising lack of odor. All other standing water I have ever seen also smelled.

The cold air has the scent of autumn. It brings along that crisp, fresh smell that always comes with the fall season. I break a branch off a yellow birch tree and inhale the scent emitted from its interior. It is a smell that brings me back to my childhood, sitting at an Italian restaurant with my family and washing down a piece of my father’s chicken parmesan with a mouthful of birch beer. There isn’t much else permeating the air. The smells of the wild are more for the animals than for humans. Humans emit pheromones for humans and I am alone in the woods, so I smell the crisp air and the birch, but not much else. I exit the woods at 3:25 p.m. with a final breath of fresh forest air.

Nathaniel Basch-Gould – Blog Entry #2 – Wall’s Pond – 10/2/09 – 10:15 am

It’s quite crisp this morning; autumn seems to be settling steadily in, one day at time. I’m sitting on the now-familiar west side of the pond, on a picnic table in order to avoid the dewy ground. The air is about 45 degrees F and there’s a slight breeze out of the north, about 1-5 mph. There is a tinge of cold in the breeze last week, and it’s certainly there right now. The difference is a general dryness, the beginning of the bite that New Englanders know is the mark of an autumn wind. The sun is just emerging through the pines at the south end of the pond, breaking the steely and uniform cloud cover and warming me as I sit.
The mallards are out in force! I count twelve and they seem more active than they have in the past two weeks. It’s as though they’ve finally shaken off the summer laziness that the college students are likewise trying to kick as the colder weather settles in. They dive occasionally and move among the dwindling lily pads on the east side of the pond.
Since my last visit, the water lilies have certainly diminished a bit. A few proud survivors are sticking it out, petals open, and it may simply be that today there is less sun than when last I was here, but the water lilies, which bloomed on the water’s surface last week are now mostly closed up or gone completely.
I see some new fauna today as well – namely two chipmunks at the base of the closest red maple on the southwest corner of the pond. I first notice them scurrying about the foot of the tree, diving in and out of several small holes thereabouts and nibbling on something white and fluffy. This gets me interested. Upon closer inspection, I discover twenty or thirty hunks of white bread scattered on the pond side of the maple’s base, left there, it looks like, by a human for the express purpose of feeding the local wildlife. This seems strange – the bread looks fresh and doesn’t feel stale. It certainly wasn’t there last week. I leave it, not knowing the impact it might have on animal at the site, but hoping it might attract some interesting visitors. Something will come by and eat it, I’m sure, and probably nothing that doesn’t already have business at the water’s edge. In addition to the chipmunks I catch a fleeting glimpse of a pair of small, black birds that swoop low across the pond one time and then disappear. I will keep and eye out for them next time, and will bring binoculars so as to hopefully record an identification.
The large maple at the north end of the pond wins the foliage prize this morning and gives away its true identity. In the week since my last visit 70% of its leaves have turned a fiery shade of red-orange (after double checking a leaf description online, I have at last identified this tree and those by the SW entrance as red maples). Only the lower branches on the western side remain green and not for long. It show, however, very few bare limbs so it must have another week or so before the mass exodus. The first-runner up in foliage is the smaller mountain maple by the water’s edge, just east of the red. Its leaves are a light orange and very few of them have fallen off as well. The rest are still green and well populated with leaves. I look forward to the coming weeks and the prospect of seeing them all go through their individual chromatic chaos.
It’s truly unfortunate that this week I happen to be sick and that my sickness is mainly a nasty nasal congestion because I would really have liked to smell Wall’s Pond this morning. The best I could get after many a labored sniff was the faint scent of woodsmoke from somewhere in town and a hint of mowed grass. For just two smells, though, these seem to be right for the kind of day it is; while the former pulls me irresistibly into the season of warm hearths and bundling up, the latter taunts me with memories of high summer and reminds me that the days when I can see green lawns and fields are indeed numbered.

Kristen Sinicariello

Site Description #2 Syndicate Road Woods, Thursday, Oct. 1, 2009

9:45 A.M.

 It was obvious that it had rained the day before at the Syndicate Road Woods.  As I neared the site, I could hear the water in the stream trickling louder than before.  The weather was still a bit cool and cloudy, but began to clear up as the time passed.  Today I was concerned mostly in identifying the trees in my site, as I realized that I did not even know the species I had been looking at for three weeks.  I of course noticed many sugar maples, whose leaves had turned yellow/orange with black splotches and fallen to the ground.  There were a few red maple-leaves on the ground as well, though I doubt they had fallen from a red maple tree because their buds were pointy like those of a sugar maple.  Next I came across a large tree whose trunk had split off into practically two different trees about five feet off the ground.  The leaves were ovate and still green, so I identified the tree as a birch, though its wood did not smell like that of sweet birch.  One side of the tree was almost completely covered in moss and the bark was flakey.  Looking up, I saw that the tallest tree’s leaves were small, still green, and growing in an alternate pattern.  As they were constantly trembling in the wind, I assumed the tree to be a trembling/quaking aspen. 

At this point I crossed the stream by way of a tree that had fallen perfectly like a bridge.  It had many small holes in it where I assume termites had nested.  Now on the western bank of the stream I found an American elm tree with small greenish-yellow toothed leaves that felt like sand paper.  I also encountered one honeysuckle and many beech trees.  Looking up, I saw what seemed to be a Norway maple or a box elder tree.  I examined the lady ferns which were small and grew in an alternate pattern, as well as the sensitive fern which had a much longer stem and wider leaves growing in an opposite growth pattern. 

Next I turned to study the rocks in the stream basin.  Even a few inches of rain had made a difference in the stream.  Large puddles would form and then trickle slowly through a narrow opening of rocks into another pool of standing water.  The largest rock was smooth, circular and cream colored, which led me to believe it to be marble.  Another large rock, perhaps schist, had obvious but smooth layers with some luster among its brown and black coloring.  I collected some smaller rock samples, which appeared to be different types, but upon closer examination I found that they only fell into two categories: schistose phyllite, identifiable by its greenish luster, and quartzite, which had shimmering parts mixed in with other sediments.  Next time I come to visit the site I will be sure to bring a rock identifying kit with me in order to be sure of my speculations. 

As I began made my way back to the side walk to begin my journey home, I noticed that the southern edge of the woods was full of New York aster, which had grown in a bush-like formation.  I had never noticed the lavender blooms before, though they must have been there.  They added a nice contrast to the yellow and orange colors that were beginning to emerge in the Syndicate Road woods.  I now wonder how long it will be before the tree branches will be bare and all their colorful leaves will cover the ground.

Gordon Smith

9/30/09

Natural History of the Berkshires

Field Journal Assignment #2: Mission Park Site

When I went to my site at 3:20 on Wednesday afternoon, the sky was overcast, and the first drips of rain were audible, if not visible. While I am in the group of people who is unfortunately not blessed with a strong sense of smell, there were several observations that I could still make with my nose. The air in my site smelled crisp, clear and fresh, there were no lingering smells of the nearby dining hall (though sometimes there are), nor the sweet smell of rotting leaves; just freshness with a hint of cut grass from a nearby lawn mixed with the slightest tinge of pine sap. Even the cliché earthiness of dirt and grass was not apparent to me: only a cold clearness.

The next topic that I would like to discuss is the changes that I am noticing in my site relative to the first time that I saw it. As I walked towards the center of the grove, the first difference I noticed was that the amount of ordinary grass has decreased and that the amount of broad-leaved low vegetation (mostly goutweed and some Virginia creeper) has increased to compensate. Other changes on the ground surface of the site were that the areas of brown with dirt and dead pine needles showing have grown larger, and that they are no longer solely confined in areas of denser tree cover. The ground is also littered with noticeably more dead branches than it was a few weeks ago, and the number of dead leaves has increased dramatically, though these leaves are likely from other nearby stands than from the site itself. I would say this because only very few of the deciduous trees in my site have even begun to turn, to say nothing of losing brown leaves.

As for the trees themselves, 2 sugar maples have begun to have their outward facing (facing away from the center of the site) leaves turn yellow. It is interesting to me that they have not turned, because many of the maple trees near to the site have already completely turned bright shades of red and yellow. This is most likely because they are different species of maple (red vs. sugar). Additionally, an American beech tree has begun also to turn yellow and brown, and one of the bigger paper birch trees is also in the process of turning yellow. The only red in my site comes from a quite a large amount of Virginia creeper vines that are both on the ground as standing broad leaved vegetation and on a few of the maple trees.

Also, to clarify a few points, my site is completely devoid of running or standing water. It is also flat in a way that is likely only possible with human manipulation. Human traffic in the area is quite high along the adjacent paths, but only rarely do people walk on the site itself, with the exception of the path that cuts through.

The last topic I would like to discuss is the overall nature of my site. Though I had seen evidence of gardening and grounds keeping near to my site, I had never truly though of it as a “garden” because the low-lying plants had been left alone for the most part. As I have begun to identify plants, however, it has become more and more obvious that there is very little natural and native about my site. The clover-like plant with one broad leaf that I have described in earlier journals is wild garlic mustard, an invasive exotic imported for its culinary properties.  While it does smell quite a lot like garlic, and is interesting in its ability to stay green over winter, it is in no natural occurrence here in the Berkshires. With two of the dominant low-lying plants confirmed as invasive exotics, it is likely that many more of the plants are as well. As such, I will keep in mind the fact that what I am observing is in a large part due to human intervention, though I will not stop looking for interactions nor viewing the area as a natural, if manipulated, whole.

Stephen Maier                                                                   13 September 2009

Wall Pond

As I am nestled in a clearing between overgrown grass and the banks of the pond the clock strikes three.  Wall Pond is bustling with wildlife. From the calls of a crow resting high in the branches of an evergreen to the perpetual chirping of crickets in the field surrounding me, I feel as though I am part of nature. The water of the pond is littered with lilies; the end of summer approaches and the pink flowers are in full bloom. They are putting on a show for the fauna that call this place home. A young bird cries for his mother in a tree on the edge of the pond opposite the crow. The life inside the water keeps up its continuous serenade as the clouds crawl slowly overhead towards the Clark Art Museum. The sun pokes its head out occasionally when the clouds permit and human visitors take advantage of the view when this occurs. A dragonfly lands on my keyboard as I type and departs when I touch the key he has claimed for his landing pad. A fly quickly takes the dragonfly’s place and then leaps to the screen panel and dances for me. As I scan the pond for its eccentricities, I notice two dragonflies mating in air while others find resting pads in the water’s edge’s flora. Among these plants are beautiful, tiny flowers with purple petals and yellow stigmas. Some tall yellow, grass-like growth inhabits several sections of the banks. On the edge closest to the Museum live more than a dozen trees with stature greater than fifty feet tall. Twenty minutes pass with little activity until a flock of ducks startles me while franticly escaping danger. The predator is a cute Labrador Retriever, chocolate in color, clenching a fluorescent orange toy in his teeth. He runs into the water and swims after the birds in an attempt that seems to be playful and amiable. He is totally harmless in his efforts, but the ducks cannot fathom this. They cry for help loudly, but it lasts for only a couple minutes. The dog swims back to shore and the ducks carry on with their diving below the water’s surface.  The water is still save the locations where the ducks are swimming and fishing. A visitor sneaks up beside me to capture the beauty of the site in a still frame. And another does the same on the opposite side of the pond. As I revisit the trees, I notice one evergreen in particular that is intriguing. It appears to be in the midst of falling into the water, but I assume this is the way it grows to seek sunlight amongst the rest of his brothers and sisters within his ten-foot radius. Nearly all branches are enjoying the breeze, as I am, but two or three seem to be taking a dip in the pond. Forty-five minutes have passed and the ducks are quiet, but the crow has returned and made his presence known and the crickets are relentless. For the past fifteen minutes I have been exploring different views and perspectives of the pond. All paint the same pretty picture: water lilies scattered throughout the lively pond, leaving the middle unoccupied, and plenty of company to utilize its valuable resources. The insects love the stagnant water; the ducks love the fish and apparently the lily pads; the dog loves the ducks; the plants and trees love the water; the birds love the trees and the worms that likely live in the wet soil; and the humans love the scenic portrait. If one were to glance at Wall Pond, he/she would assume there is not much happening. But to the interpreting observer, there is a whole new world that goes undiscovered. My excursion comes to an end as the clock reads four, and the ducks voice their goodbyes to me. I return the favor and promise to return again.