By Rachel Quimby for the Gazette October 4, 2024 Shortly after we moved into our new (old) house in Holyoke, I noticed a shrub in our neighbor’s yard. It was […]
Birdwatchers make lists. We list bird species seen by day, week, year, or lifetime. We list birds seen in a yard, town, state, or continent. We compete and get a special thrill from finding a stray from far away.
We are all experiencing the impacts of climate change more each day, in our own communities and around the world.
Recent data from the Yale Project on Climate Change Communication shows that 72% of Americans understand that climate change is real, human-caused, and happening now. Yet, only 36% discuss it even occasionally with family or friends, leading to a lack of public discourse and civic engagement to address one of the most critical issues of our time. Increased public discourse is a critical precursor for action.
In summer, many New England roads are lined with clouds of magenta flowers atop the tall stems of several species of Joe Pye weed, especially where the roads are bordered by damp ditches. Who was Joe Pye? A perusal of popular botanical sources reveals that he was a Native American, but little consensus beyond that (and not even that; one field guide describes him as a “Caucasian ‘Indian theme promoter’”). Various references place him in different tribal groups and different centuries. Many references credit him with using this plant to cure a disease, most often given as typhus, both in Native and European-origin communities, although details are often vague and differ among accounts. Fortunately, researchers Richard Pearce and James Pringle have recently reviewed these confusing accounts and delved into historical records to uncover what little can be known about the real man behind the stories.
By Tom Litwin
There is a stretch of road that runs north along the Connecticut River from the Whately/Hatfield line to the foot of Sugarloaf. It is no surprise its name is River Road. Leaving Northampton I often take “the river road,” the long way home. Over the course of a year, the seasons unfold across fields and farms, displaying the close interaction of people and the environment. The history of these fields reaches back 15,000 years, when the Wisconsin glacier covered New England under two miles of ice. As the glacier retreated north, an outwashed stone dam blocked the Valley at New Britain, Connecticut, creating the 200 mile-long Lake Hitchcock. The rushing meltwater streams carried sediments of silt, sand, and loam to the lake bottom.
By Christine Hatch
Swamps are great story villains. They are notoriously difficult to navigate due to their sinking sticky mud, spiked vines and dense vegetation; they are neither fully land nor water, negating boats and footwear as helpful vessels for traversing them; and black, smelly, organic-rich waters and sparse sunlight add to the impenetrable mystery. In short, they have the perfect protective outerwear to shield them from human predators — at least for a while. I used to think that in order to conserve nature, we had to wall it off and protect it from all outside influences, especially our meddling human selves. I thought that left to its own devices, the natural world would restore itself to balance…
By Kari Blood
One of the reasons many of us love living in the Valley is being able to see wildlife around us. But those sightings will become increasingly rare if humans don’t take bold steps to slow the loss of species around the world. Scientists are sounding the alarm not only about the climate crisis but also about the inextricably linked biodiversity crisis.
By Ted Watt & Helen Ann Sephton
This column honors Colleen Kelley, the education director at the Hitchcock Center, who will soon be leaving her post after 40 years. In the fall of 1984, Colleen walked into the Hitchcock Center — young, bright, idealistic, and fresh off a position as an environmental educator at another center. She had moved to the Valley and was looking for work. She hadn’t been there but a few minutes when a school bus pulled into the parking lot…
By Joshua Rose
A few months ago, headlines flared that Peter Kaestner had seen his 10,000th bird species. This could have been anticlimactic, as Kaestner has been renowned for years among birders for traveling worldwide and seeing more species than anyone.
However, the feat gained drama just before Kaestner’s milestone when Jason Mann, so non-renowned that few birders had ever heard of him, suddenly revealed that he, too, was approaching 10,000 species seen, and even claimed to have reached the milestone mere hours before Kaestner did. Mann ultimately was found to have padded his list a bit and withdrew his claim, but for a while, the title of world’s top birder unexpectedly became a competition.
By Rachel Quimby
One of my favorite books from childhood is P.D. Eastman’s “Big Dog, Little Dog,” the story of two bi-pedal pooches who are best friends. But Fred is tall, and Ted is short; Fred drives slowly and Ted drives fast; Ted plays the tuba, and Fred plays the flute. One day they visit a ski resort together, and that night, discover that neither can sleep in his own bed. I won’t spoil it for you, but let’s just say it’s a compelling tale about how opposites don’t just complement each other, their differences can serve as a bond. In other words: opposites attract. And every third grader who’s used a magnet to stick artwork to a refrigerator knows it.
Share this page with friends!
Hitchcock Center for the Environment
at Hampshire College
845 West Street | Amherst MA 01002 | 413.256.6006 | 413.253.2809 fax