Nature News: Ominous-looking turkey vultures won’t hurt a thing

Published Feb 15 2022 in Seacoast Area newspapers and online at seacoastonline.com

This past weekend I was really worried. There were no birds at the feeders. Usually goldfinch, chickadees and all those other winter bird feeder birds are swarming to the sunflower seeds and suet. Instead, nothing.

It finally occurred to me to look around. High up, at the top of a giant white pine, were two turkey vultures. These eagle-sized birds looked ominous, like birds of prey waiting to swoop down and eat something. I could see why the regulars were in hiding.

However, unlike other birds of prey, these turkey vultures aren’t a threat to my bird feeder birds.  

I don’t know what they were doing up there, perhaps enjoying the sun, but turkey vultures are true scavengers. They feed on carrion – not goldfinch, chickadees and other small birds. They did not have designs on my birdfeeders.

One of two turkey vultures perching high up in a white pine Sue Pike Photo

Turkey Vultures almost never attack living prey

Here’s what the Cornell Lab of Ornithology has to say about their feeding preferences: “Turkey Vultures eat carrion, which they find largely by their excellent sense of smell. Mostly, they eat mammals but are not above snacking on reptiles, other birds, amphibians, fish, and even invertebrates. They prefer freshly dead animals, but often have to wait for their meal to soften in order to pierce the skin. They are deft foragers, targeting the softest bits first and are even known to leave aside the scent glands of dead skunks. Thankfully for them, vultures appear to have excellent immune systems, happily feasting on carcasses without contracting botulism, anthrax, cholera, or salmonella. Unlike their Black Vulture relatives, Turkey Vultures almost never attack living prey.”  In fact, turkey vultures are the only scavengers around here (unlike bald eagles, for example) who can’t kill their prey. Their  feet are more chicken-like than hawk or eagle-like, useless for tearing into prey. Their beaks are the powerful part and can tear through even the toughest cow hide. They feed by thrusting their heads into their prey, a good reason for their bald, turkey-like heads.  

Turkey vultures are most closely related to storks

The word raptor refers to a broad group of birds of prey – eagles, falcons, hawks and, until recently, vultures. Vultures appear to be very raptor-like. One of the shared traits of raptors is their ability to rip into prey with their powerful talons. Vultures don’t do this, they use their beaks. DNA evidence places them as more closely related to storks than to other raptors. After seeing these turkey vultures, I started looking at my chickens in a different light. Looks-wise, my chickens seem very vulture-esque. They aren’t related –beware of basing relatedness on looks!

It worries me to see turkey vultures in winter. They aren’t supposed to be here. When I entered my sighting into eBird.com (an online birdwatching database), I had to add additional comments because they are unusual this time of year. In fact, turkey vultures are relatively, geologically speaking, new to New England even in the summer. I have a 1987 bird guide in which their range doesn’t extend north of Massachusetts, but, a number of “southern” species like red-bellied woodpeckers, tufted titmice, cardinals, mockingbirds and turkey vultures have been pushing their ranges north since the last Ice Age.

New England is part of the ‘normal’ turkey vulture range in the summer, but recently, with our warmer winters (and perhaps increasing deer population) turkey vultures are lingering into the winter. These two looked healthy. With their bright red bald heads, glossy black wings and shiny white beaks they are interesting harbingers of climate change to come.

For past columns go to my archives–I update this as much as I can-I literally have hundreds out there–just need to get them into one place (here)

Often overlooked, birch seeds are distinctive and easy to find on a snowy forest floor

Published January 26 2022 in the York Weekly, Portsmouth Herald, Fosters Daily and online at seacoastonline.com

Even though I am sure I have seen these all my life, I don’t remember ever noticing the actual seeds of birch trees until relatively recently.  This is one of those things that is so easy to overlook, but so easy to observe on a snowy winter’s day.

The seed-producing parts of our local birch trees are borne on catkins. 

Birch trees have both male catkins (which dangle) and female catkins (which stand erect) on the same tree. Male catkins release pollen in the spring which blows around until it encounters and then pollinates a female flower-female catkins are simply clusters of birch flowers.   As the seeds within the female catkin mature, the catkin starts to droop as it prepares to release the seeds.  The seeds (also called nutlets) are winged structures that are so lightweight that they can be carried quite far away and don’t have hard shells (like an acorn), so they germinate quickly–this is why birch trees are often the first trees to colonize after a fire or other disturbance (hence the term “pioneer species”). 

A fallen female catkin with the oval, winged seeds and bird-like bracts scattered around. Sue Pike Photo

If you take a walk in a snowy field (or forest) amongst some birch trees, look down.

  You should see tiny things in the snow, little seed-like structures.  Look closer-you’ll see tiny oval seeds (or nutlets as they are called) with tiny translucent wings and other tiny things that look like silhouettes of birds flying-these are the leftover protective structures of birch seeds. These are bracts, modified leaves that protect the birch flowers. When you see one of those dangly catkins hanging from the tip of a birch branch, what you are seeing is an overlapping series, a cylindrical column, of these bracts, protecting the seeds. The bracts look like they have wings, but compared to the seeds they are heavy-they don’t need to travel as far as the seeds.

Giant yellow birch bract on the left dwarfs the two tiny gray birch bracts Sue Pike photo

Different birch tree species can be distinguished by those protective bracts.  Gray and paper birch seeds are protected by bracts that look, to me, like soaring birds–two outstretched wings, a head and a tail.   Yellow birch bracts look like bird tracks to me– bird tracks with 3 toes and are  much larger than paper and gray birch seed bracts. 

Hopefully we will have more wintery weather here in the Seacoast. 

The snow gives us an opportunity to see things that are normally hidden.  The next time it snows, you really must go outside and see for yourself.  You will need a patch of snow and some birch trees.  Look down.  Look for little soaring birds.  Look for tiny pieces of flotsam that look like bird tracks.  Then look around and you’ll find some birch.

Read more about birch seeds and bracts at naturally curious and birch ID at maine.gov

Nature News: How to identify a mystery fish (or anything in nature)

originally published January 15 2022 in the York Weekly, Portsmouth Herald, etc and online at seacoastonline.com

A dead fish washed up on the beach might seem like an unsavory thing to write about, sad and tragic, but sometimes these encounters give us a glimpse into the unknown.  What lives off our coast?  Who dwells in those depths?

A friend recently posted a photo of a fish she found washed up on the beach, asking for help with the identification…. “We found this fish washed up on Ogunquit Beach when we took a walk there last week. We have been trying to identify it with no luck. We’d love to know what it is since we haven’t seen anything like it before. It’s about 2 feet in length from nose to tail, dark shaded scales, tail like a tuna, big eye socket, and upturned mouth. Any ideas are greatly appreciated!”   Those of us who responded to her post were definitely not fish experts–our guesses ranged from young tuna to piranha to something called an Atlantic pomfret.  It turns out that the Atlantic pomfret was the closest to the actual identification, one that had come from a Google image search…but it took some time to corroborate the ID.  

An Atlantic pomfret washed up on Ogunquit Beach last week. The size of a small tuna!

The wonders of a dichotomous key!

While I don’t really know much about the myriad of fish to be found in the Gulf of Maine, I do have two methods to help identify any given fish-ask an expert  or use a guide book/taxonomic key.  I did both. I sent the photo off to friends who know more about fish than I do, but at the same time I scoured my bookshelves for relevant guides (found none) and the internet, where I had better luck.  While, as I mentioned before, I don’t know much about fish, I do know how to use a dichotomous key.  A dichotomous key is usually set up as a series of two choices (often phrased as questions) that lead you to the correct identification.  In the case of this fish, the key I found to Gulf of Maine fish started with these two choices: is the mouth soft, with no firm jaws, no pectoral fin and in form is eel-like, or, does the mouth have firm jaws and are there pectoral fins even if the form is eel-like? Each choice sent me to another set of choices (always 2 choices since this was a dichotomous key), which continued until I arrived at my fish. The key took me to the big-scale pomfret (Taractichthys longipinnis), a member of a group of fish known as sea breams or pomfrets.

One reason old-fashioned dichotomous keys are better than apps…..they make you think.

While there are a number of apps available to help instantly identify whatever you see out there in nature, there is something to be said for using an old-fashioned dichotomous key to identify fish or trees or flowers or birds.  Unlike an app, keys force us to think.  For example, while using a key we might have to look up words we don’t know–in my case, I had to look up what the little bumps between the dorsal fin and the caudal (tail) fin were called–and discovered that they are finlets and are thought to improve swimming performance.  And, by using a key I looked more carefully at this fish…where I had thought it looked very tuna-like, after attempting to ID it with the key I realized it’s mouth and forehead shape looked nothing like a tuna (more like a piranha!). I also noticed how large those scales on its side looked. When my more expert friends responded, they agreed on the big-scale pomfret ID, noting the steep, rounded forehead, the shape of the scales, the long fins (hence the species name ‘longipinnis’)  and more…we had our fish!  

It is nice to still have mysteries in the world.

The big-scale pomfret (also called a long-finned sea bream) is a rarely-caught fish, probably because they tend to be solitary and live at depths of over 1,500 feet.  While this was a big fish at 2 feet in length, they can reach 3 feet.  The world record weighed almost 21 pounds! From studies of their stomach contents it looks like big-scale pomfrets tend to feed close to the bottom on squid and shrimp. 

I didn’t find many fun facts or extensive background information about this fish.  I love this!  It is nice to know there are mysteries out there in the deep.  It is nice to be able to walk our beautiful shoreline and occasionally get a glimpse into that deep ocean world that is so different from our own.

Nature News: Warblers are small, but colorful insect eaters

published May 17, 2021 in the York Weekly, Porstmouth Herald, Foster’s Daily and other Seacoast Media Group local papers

I have a friend who has had bird feeders for years and is fairly knowledgeable about most of the birds that visit her feeders.  However, the other day I was telling her about the warblers that were coming through my yard and she asked me what exactly a warbler is. She had heard of warblers but had never knowingly seen one at the feeder.  But, warblers are small and quick and if you didn’t know what to look for your brain might lump them in with other small birds that are difficult to identify.  Another reason my friend might have missed encountering warblers is because most of the warblers in the United States and Canada (over 50 species breed up here) don’t visit bird feeders.

Warblers are neotropical migrants lured here by our bugs.

Warblers are among the smallest birds in our woods and can be among the most colorful.  They are neotropical migrants, meaning they overwinter in the new-world tropics (hence neo-tropics) migrating to North America in the spring to breed.  Starting perhaps mid-April they have been moving into and through New England on their way north.  Why come up here?  Why leave balmy Central and South America?  Insects!  It’s black fly season! I also heard my first mosquitoes today.  The lure of a high-protein bug-diet, necessary for raising young, is what brings these insect-eaters north. 

This palm warbler is one of the many warblers that migrate through in the spring. stevemorello.com photo

What is a warbler? According to Encyclopedia Britannica, warblers are “any of various species of small songbirds belonging predominantly to the Sylviidae, Parulidae, and Peucedramidae families of the order Passeriformes. Warblers are small, active insect eaters found in gardens, woodlands, and marshes.” (According to The Cornell Lab’s Bird Academy warbler course I’m taking there are actually 8 different families of birds with the name warbler!).   When we talk about warblers here in the U.S we are referring to the new world warblers (also known as wood warblers).  The wood warblers are more closely related to orioles but got the name warbler from their physical and behavioral resemblance to the old world warblers. 

Some tips on how to identify the confusing array of warblers.

While warblers have a wide variety of colors and patterns you can learn to recognize them by their overall shape-small with narrow insect-eating bills, short to medium tails, and, as mentioned before, they are active foragers, always moving about looking for their next meal.  If you want to take the plunge, the next step is to try to identify some.  This group is notoriously difficult to identify.  Because they are so active it can be hard to get a good look so you have to train yourself to look for a variety of features–color, wing bars, eye rings vs eye lines, breast markings or patterns on the tail.  Paying attention to where they are foraging is also helpful as many have divided up available habitat into different foraging areas to avoid direct competition for food (this is called resource partitioning).  A famous example of resource partitioning is from a 1958 study by Robert MacArthur in which he described how 5 different northeastern warbler species had divided up their foraging area-blackburnian and Cape May warblers preferring the tops of trees, while black-throated green warblers stuck to the inner branches around the middle. 

Watch for new warblers to show up at feeders throughout the spring

Spring is the best time to be looking for warblers.  Just like the spring wildflowers that are welcoming in the season, the arrival of these tiny migrants to our woods heralds the warmer days to come.  And, if the bears haven’t yet forced you to take down your bird feeders some might come by to check out the suet.  We’ve had yellow-rumped warblers, blue-winged warblers and palm warblers drop by this spring and have been hearing many more in the trees. So, while I am lamenting the arrival of the black flies and mosquitoes  I am also happy about it-more bugs means more warblers.

Nature News: Dandelions will thrive as climate changes. Here’s why.

published in the York Weekly, Portsmouth Herald, Fosters Daily, York County Coast Star 5/24/2021

My Integrated Earth Science class is immersed in its last unit of the year-the science of past and future climates and the mechanisms that underlie climate change.  As an excuse to get outside I made up something called a Climate Change Impact Photo Scavenger Hunt.  The idea was to go outside and take a picture of something that you think might be being impacted by climate change and then do a little research and find the climate change story.   One of my classes really went crazy with photos of dandelions (the other class would have but I stupidly warned them away from dandelions believing them to be boring).   Turns out, dandelions provide a terrific story about how human-caused climate change is affecting dandelion growth, one that applies to many other plants that tend to be ‘aggressive’ growers already, one that teaches a great lesson about the complexity of interactions between living things and a changing environment. 

Elevated atmospheric CO2 causes dandelions to grow larger & spread faster. www.stevemorello.com photo

There have been a number of studies of dandelions in which researchers grew dandelions with elevated concentrations of carbon dioxide (twice current levels) and found that the increased CO2 caused the plants to produce more flowers and more seeds.  The seeds were heavier and produced larger seedlings that grew more robustly.  Then, in a study from Weed Science (“Reproduction of Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) in a Higher CO2 Environment” 2007 by McPeek and Wang) I found this sentence “Furthermore, achenes from plants grown at elevated CO2 had characteristics, such as higher stalks at seed maturity, longer beaks, and larger pappi, which would increase the distance of seed dispersal by wind.”  I love vocabulary-this was just great-achenes, beaks and pappi!  

Plant Anatomy 101

One of my biggest regrets in life is that I did not like my college botany class and failed to absorb the wonderfully rich terminology used to describe the complexity of plants.  If I had, I might have already known about achenes, beaks and pappi-terms I find confusing enough I am almost afraid to write about them.  According to the Encyclopedia Britannica an achene is “a dry, one-seeded fruit lacking special seams that split to release the seed. The seed coat is attached to the thin, dry ovary wall (husk) by a short stalk, so that the seed is easily freed from the husk, as in buckwheat. The fruits of many plants in the buttercup family and the rose family are achenes.”  Sunflower and dandelion seeds are also considered achenes.  What this means is that  each little feathery tendril of a puffy dandelion seedhead is an individual fruit. Each of those achenes is an individual ovary containing one seed that is attached to the feathery, helicoptery pappi by a long slender beak.  If the beaks are longer and the pappi are larger, you have larger helicopters (or maybe parachutes? I’m not sure what to call them) that will help carry the seeds further afield.  You put all of these enhanced traits together and you get dandelions on steroids, like the bionic man, they are bigger, stronger and faster. And so, the predictions are that they will thrive in future high CO2 environments. 

Achenes, beaks and pappi! www.stevemorello.com photo

Whether this enhanced proliferation of dandelions is good or bad is all relative and is dependent upon whether you think dandelions are awesome plants or the scourges of a manicured lawn.  They were brought to this country by colonists who considered them medicinal powerhouses, curing all sorts of ailments most likely by providing needed vitamins.  They are good for your lawn-they break up the soil and help aerate it.  They are good for pollinators, a source of nectar that is available from spring through the fall.

In the end I wish I had encouraged everyone in my class to investigate dandelions from the start.  What I found as students shared their reports about climate change and dandelions was that because dandelions are so familiar it was easy  to connect to their climate change story, making the changes that are happening all around us more tangible, more real.

You can find more nature news (including informative nature minute videos about backyard nature) from me on Instagram @pikeshikes

Nature News: Tracking a predatory stink bug

Anchor stink bug hauling this monarch caterpillar (already dead) around the milkweed plant Sue Pike Photo

Ever since my young cousins in New Jersey sent me photos of monarch butterfly eggs and tiny snow white monarch caterpillars with black heads (they don’t get colorful until later in development), I have been looking for the same on my milkweed plants. Unfortunately, the one and only monarch caterpillar I have found so far was dead, killed by a predatory stink bug. While great for the stink bug, this was, of course, tragic for the monarch caterpillar. We were unhappy as well since we have been encouraging milkweeds and planting all sorts of wildflowers in an attempt to create a safe haven for these beleaguered insects.

Initially, watching this menacing-looking bug drag the hapless carcass of the monarch caterpillar around, I was horrified and wanted to know who the culprit was. Identifying insects can be incredibly difficult. I tried some books and the internet, and I decided it was some sort of stink bug, perhaps an anchor stink bug. According to a “Featured Creatures” bulletin put out by the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services, the stinkbug “genus is recognized easily by the enlarged long and broadly oval scutellum (located behind the pronotum) … subapical spine on the front femora; and ventral pubescent patches on the males.” I didn’t know what any of that meant, so I resorted to iNaturalist and the awesome folks at bugguide.net for the final identification. My tiny predator did turn out to be an anchor stink bug (Stiretrus anchorago).

The red arrow points to the ‘anchor’ on the stink bug’s back. Not real obvious here. Sue Pike photo

Now that I knew what an anchor bug looked like, I decided to at least learn what one of those seemingly obscure anatomical terms referred to. I call myself a naturalist and, upon finding out what a scutellum was, realized I’m a fairly ill-informed naturalist. All true bugs have a hard plate, called the scutellum, that is usually triangular, on their backs. The anchor bug’s scutellum is unusually large and U-shaped, something like a shield with a black anchor-like pattern on it. Now that I knew what to look for, the scutellum was, indeed, a very prominent and recognizable feature.

While refreshing my memory on insect anatomy, I was reminded of some of the differences between insects that are known as true bugs (some common examples are cicadas, water striders, stinkbugs and spittlebugs) and other insects, like beetles (not true bugs). It can be difficult to identify insects down to their species, but once you know what to look for, you should be able to distinguish a beetle from a true bug fairly easily. Beetles have chewing mouthparts whereas true bugs eat a liquid diet. True bugs have a beak, which they use to suck out the contents of whatever it is they are eating. The anchor bug uses its beak to harpoon its prey and then inject digestive enzymes that first immobilizes the prey and subsequently turn its insides into goo, which they then suck up with those same beaks. If you look carefully at the photo, you can see a tubular structure attaching the anchor bug to the caterpillar — that’s the beak, firmly implanted in the caterpillar. A number of pests (aphids, for example) are true bugs that use their beaks to feed on the fluids inside plants.

The easiest way to know whether you are seeing a true bug or a beetle is the wings on the back. Beetles have hard, leathery forewings that cover up and protect the hind wings. When at rest, the hard forewings meet in the middle of the back forming a line down the middle separating the two wings. These have to be lifted out of the way when the beetle flies. Only the first part of the forewing of a true bug is hardened (hence the scientific name, Hemiptera, which means half wing). At rest, the wings cross over each other so that from above they have a triangular shape. All true bugs also have a scutellum in between the wings, sometimes it is reduced in size and sometimes it is big and obvious, like in the anchor bug.

Anchor bugs live solitary existences, roaming the landscape in search of prey and are considered to be economically beneficial insects. As generalist predators, they are good biological controls of a variety of pest species (though they really aren’t common enough to make a big dent in a pest population). Look for them in your garden or a nearby field, they are strikingly beautiful bugs with their bold patterns of black and red, yellow or white. Now that I know who they are, next time I see one, I will welcome it gladly and not judge it for killing the occasional monarch butterfly, being, as they are, important members of our local backyard ecosystems.

Nature News: The mating rituals of water striders

published May 6, 2020 seacoastonline.com, the York Weekly, Portsmouth Herald, Foster’s Daily and the York County Coast Star

The last time I wrote about water striders, it was the middle of the summer. I was sitting by a pond battling mosquitoes while watching them skate across the surface of the pond. I love how fast they move, which I didn’t understand. Are they skating and digging in their little feet for some purchase on the slick surface of the pond? Or is it a sticky surface that just looks like glass?

Water striders caught in the act of mating photo by Steve Morello stevemorello.com

Turns out not all small insects can do this – walk and skate on water. Water striders can because they have very fine hairs on the undersides of their legs that trap air and repel water. The scientific term for this is superhydrophobic. They can move so quickly because what they are doing is more like rowing, vigorously rowing, creating little swirls in the surface that help propel them forward. For their body size, they move fast, the equivalent of a 6-foot-tall person running 400 miles per hour!

I love the way their feet make little dimples in the surface of the water. Sometimes that’s how I first notice them – by the shadows those dimples cast on the bottom of the stream. As a biology teacher, I really love this, a textbook example of the high surface tension of water. They are bending the surface of the water.

I have been surprised to see water striders on my brook and along the edges of the river. I hadn’t realized they lived in flowing water as well as still water. Having never lived along a river until now, I have always made assumptions about who lives where. This was a big one. I always assumed they needed still-water, but there they were, skating upstream against the current, hanging out in the still water along the edges. And, as a wonderful sign of spring, this past weekend, while I was battling newly-hatched black flies instead of mosquitoes, I was able to catch some in the act of reproduction.

I realized these two were mating because they looked huge and on closer inspection it turned out I was seeing two, one being carried on the others’ back. So, I looked into water strider mating behavior. As you would expect, it is fascinating. As far as researchers know, there is no courtship involved. The male mounts the female. If she doesn’t fancy him, she might try to resist by deploying an extremely effective genital shield. However, the males have coevolved a behavior to prevent her from resisting, an extremely diabolical behavior. They coerce the female into mating by tapping out intricate patterns on the surface of the water. These patterns are meant to attract a predatory beetle that attacks from below the surface, the backswimmer. The female, since she is on the bottom, is more vulnerable to attack from below, so usually submits fairly quickly if the male starts tapping. This has been tested in an experiment (Han and Jablonski, “Male water striders attract predators to intimidate females into copulation,” Nature Communications, 2010) in which a small bar was glued to the back of the female. The bar raised the male up high enough that he couldn’t tap. When the male couldn’t tap, females resisted his advances for much longer periods of time.

I have been making more of a point than ever to get outside for some green time, to be in nature, to do some close and slow looking. By spending more time carefully observing water striders, my curiosity has been piqued and I have learned so much more than I would have with just casual observation. Look up slow looking. It’s something we shouldn’t have to be taught, but the art of sitting still in nature and observing what is going on around you is an art form, one that we can all participate in.

Ice is Magic

published Feb 5, 2020 in the York Weekly, Portsmouth Herald and Foster’s Daily and online at seacoastonline.com

I spent almost the entire first semester last year having my freshmen STEM class run experiments about ice. Every morning, when I walk my dog, we follow a path along the river and observe the ice, marvel at the huge slabs of ice that are carried downstream and stacked like pancakes in some places, crunch our way over the paper-thin ice that coated the hummocks of the floodplain after the last brief thaw, watch dangling orbs of ice form in the waterfall that spills down to feed the river. I, like so many others, am obsessed with ice.

If you think about it, ice formation on a pond or lake is fairly straightforward. As the water gets colder, it gets denser and starts to sink. Liquid water reaches its maximum density at 4 °C (39.2 °F), after that it continues to get colder and freeze solid, but as it freezes, it becomes less dense and floats to the surface and we end up with ice-covered lakes.

Ice slabs pile up in Little River

At first, the ice is paper-thin, fragile sheets that crumble in your hand. As winter’s cold progresses, the ice gets thicker and thicker as more ice is added from the bottom. As long as the pond or lake is deep enough, there should always be at least some liquid water underneath the ice. This is very helpful to the animals that live in the pond or lake. They can survive in the liquid water near the bottom until the spring thaw.

Now, think about a river or stream in which the water is constantly moving. All of that turbulence makes it difficult for a nice sheet of ice to form. On cold winter nights, the surface water of a river cools, crystals of ice form and start to grow. The constant water movement keeps the crystals from growing together into a solid sheet, instead you get a slushy mixture of water and ice called frazil ice. You can see this floating on the top of a river in early winter, or instead of floating on top, because the crystals are so small, they can easily be carried by the turbulence down to the bottom of the river.

Ice slab close-up with river behind it

As temperatures continue to drop, the frazil ice can start to join together at the surface and form round plates of ice with upturned edges (from the plates bumping together). This is called pancake ice. Or, what was more common on my river, ice will start to form along the edges of the river. Ice forms more easily along the edges because there is typically less water movement and the temperature of the shallow water on the edge cools faster. This is called border or shore ice. Border ice will generally enlarge toward the middle of the river until the ice from both sides meet.

Border ice forms along a small stream

Another interesting way a river can freeze is when the frazil ice that is transported to the bottom of the river attaches to the streambed and builds from the bottom up. This is called anchor ice. Anchor ice can grow very rapidly and block the flow of a river or stream causing local flooding. If there is particularly low flow of water along the bottom, an enormous amount of anchor ice can build up. This can be extremely harmful to aquatic life because the anchor ice can physically lift up parts of the streambed and move it downstream, movement akin to the action of a bulldozer, killing small fish and aquatic invertebrates (like dragonfly or caddisfly larvae) that live in the streambed, or freezing fish eggs that were waiting for spring to hatch.

I thought I first fell in love with ice in some dramatic location, perhaps when I crossed Lake Champlain on the ferry one cold winter’s night and watched the prow cut through the ice and listened to it grind against the hull of the boat, or when I was travelling as a National Geographic Grosvenor Teacher Fellow in the Arctic Ocean and witnessed firsthand the ethereal beauty of icebergs and the vast expanses of pack ice in the polar sea. But watching the beautiful, ever-mutable ice along my little river this winter has made me realize that I’ve loved ice since I was a kid watching icicles dangle from the gutters of my house, that no matter where you find it, ice is magic.

Nature News: New England forests will have to evolve with climate

published January 15 2020 in the York Weekly, Foster’s Daily and the Portsmouth Herald and on seacoastonline.com

Dryad emerging from an old dead tree. Dryads protect and die with their trees. I wonder what they are thinking as our forests succumb to climate change-who do they go after? All of us who use fossil fuels?

This past weekend was unseasonably warm. Record-breaking in fact, for New England, with temperatures a good 7 or 8 degrees warmer than past records.

It seemed like everyone was out taking advantage of the balmy weather to take a walk in the woods. I headed up a side trail on Blue Job Mountain and while working my way up a slushy streambank looked across a clearing and saw something I had never seen before. There, in an old broken-off tree stump was a figure, made of wood, that looked to be climbing out of the tree.

The tree must have been felled relatively recently because the wood was still a bright orange-brown, a splash of color surrounded by the snow-covered pines and oaks. It looked raw and newly exposed. Sunlight hadn’t gotten to it yet (ultraviolet rays break down the cellulose in wood, bleaching out the color, giving it a silvery gray sheen). This figure that I, rationally, knew was just a random carving of the wood into human form, looked back at me. I knew it was just wood, but it still was magical. I could see how people from many different backgrounds, from all over the world, have believed that there are spirits that inhabit trees, so for a moment I believed a wood spirit was looking back at me.

Trees have lives that follow vastly different time scales from ours. They usually live much longer than we do and don’t move as we do. They are root-bound. They only move by reproducing, by sending their seeds out ahead of them into new territory. This warm weather was a reminder to me of their vulnerability. How is the rapid warming of our Earth going to affect the forests of New England?

A little over ten thousand years ago, the glaciers were receding and trees were re-colonizing New England. Slowly their seeds were carried or blown north and slowly they colonized the newly formed earth. This is a process called succession. When there is no dirt (as when glaciers had scoured all the dirt from the land), first lichens and mosses colonize bare rock, break into it and build soil. Then grasses and small plants move in, followed by shrubs, followed by fast-growing, light-loving trees, followed finally by the trees of a mature forest – the beech and maple, pine and oak of our temperate, deciduous forests.

Now, as conditions shift, as it warms, many of these trees need to move north or die. According to Mass Audubon’s “Effects of Climate Change on Woods & Forests,” a general rule of thumb is that “most tree species can colonize habitat beyond their existing range at a rate of 100 km in a 100 years (about 62 miles per 100 years). Some species will be able to move that fast, but warming temperatures will likely require forests to shift by 400 to 600 km (about 250 to 370 miles) by 2100, a rate faster than most species can tolerate.”

One of my favorite types of tree spirits are the Dryads. I first read about these as a child in the classic Bullfinch’s “Mythology.” According to Bullfinch, Dryads are nymphs or spirits, bound to particular trees, caretakers of the trees.

“Dryads or Hamadryads, were believed to perish with the trees which had been their abode and with which they had come into existence. It was therefore an impious act wantonly to destroy a tree.” I guess the caretaking days of my Dryad were over. Her tree had been felled by age or a wind storm. Perhaps that is why she was stepping out of the tree?

Susan Pike, a researcher and an environmental sciences and biology teacher at St. Thomas Aquinas High School, welcomes your ideas for future column topics. She may be reached at spike3116@gmail.com. Read more of her Nature News columns online.