by Nancy Pick
Asparagus, strawberries and sunflowers are, to my mind, three of the best reasons to live in western Massachusetts. It won’t be long now before the first asparagus spears, those fertility symbols that usher in our dazzling farm produce season, poke out of the ground. To pose a riddle, what cool characteristic do these three plants have in common, one you might not notice unless you look quite closely?
by Ted Watt
It was January, with two feet of cold crisp powder on the ground. The day was bright and sunny. The 5th and 6th grades at our small rural, hill-town school had been studying life sciences. Educators and students were focusing on animals and the many varied ways they are adapted, both physically and behaviorally, to living in their environment. We decided to take advantage of the perfect winter day and headed out to see what we could learn about how animals live in winter from the signs and tracks they left behind.
by Tom Litwin
During migration season this past fall researchers at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, using NEXRAD weather radar, tracked approximately 4 billion birds migrating from Canada into the U.S. and 4.7 million birds leaving the U.S. for the tropics. Clearly one strategy for dealing with New England weather is to leave it behind. But other species’ strategies have traded the benefits and perils posed by thousands of miles of travel for the benefits and perils of northern winters.
by Joshua Rose
Once upon a time, it was called Bri-Mar Stables and described as “a quaint equestrian facility nestled in the heart of Hadley … providing a welcoming environment for those passionate about all things equine.” The property had a barn at the top of a hill on Moody Bridge Road and a track for riding out back near the Fort River. The farm eventually closed and was sold to a developer. The developer was allegedly caught illegally filling wetlands and offered a choice: Pay fines that would erode their profit margins or sell the land to the government. They chose the latter.
by Monya Relles
On July 14, 2024, I got on a train headed from Albany, NY to Charlottesville, VA. Then I endeavored to walk home. I followed the Appalachian trail for two months and approximately six-hundred and fifty miles. I carried around forty-five pounds of stuff, ate about a pound of ibuprofen, seriously considered quitting nearly seven times, and used up well over a foot of blister tape. The walk was challenging, ordinary, and devastatingly beautiful at turns and I enjoyed it very much.
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.
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Hitchcock Center for the Environment
at Hampshire College
845 West Street | Amherst MA 01002 | 413.256.6006 | 413.253.2809 fax