By Kari Blood
If you’re a Pioneer Valley native, you may not realize what a unique region surrounds you. As a recent transplant from upstate New York, I have observed how nature, culture, education and agriculture come together here in a rich, productive tapestry that few other areas in the northeast can claim. Because of this tapestry, locally grown foods are plentiful and accessible today. But what will happen in the future?
By David Spector
On a bird trip I once led for the Hitchcock Center for the Environment I noticed a northern harrier (also known as marsh hawk) hunting over a field in Hadley. This lovely raptor, found over the fields and marshes of the northern hemisphere, rarely breeds in western Massachusetts but occurs here regularly as a migrant and in small numbers as a winter resident. I pointed out the bird and described the features that I used to distinguish this species from other hawks: proportionately long, narrow wings held above the horizontal; a proportionately long, tubular body; and a relatively flat, owl-like face.
By Joshua Rose
Even though winter is upon us, the Valley is still feeling the effects of the October 29 nor’easter that dumped more than a foot of snow across the area. Most of us lost electricity—some for days when tree branches snapped from the combined weight of leaves and snow and took power lines down with them. For many weeks, Amherst’s streets were lined with long piles of brush gathered by cleanup crews, and the local transfer stations stayed open more days than usual to allow for this sudden glut of “yard waste.”
By Elizabeth Farnsworth
As far as I can tell, there are three ways to survive a New England winter. One, you take up winter sports and learn to love the slippery ground and nose-biting cold. (This one’s not for me—I am too clumsy for skates or snowboards.) Two, you escape to warmer climes. (As a tropical biologist early in my career, I opted for this, and spent many winter months knee-deep in mangrove mud in Belize; not glamorous, perhaps, but warm!) Or three, sleep through it. Many animals and plants choose option three: it’s cheaper than airfare or new skis.
By David Spector
There are many ways to start a year. On January 1 of this year I awoke at 2 a.m. and headed out to find birds. My first bird of 2011 was a barred owl that I heard respond to a playback of its species’ call. At my next stop a coyote yipped but no owl revealed itself. Farther down the road I didn’t need to stop to listen—a barred owl hunting from a road-side tree was easily visible in my headlight beams and the first bird I actually saw this year. Still well before sunrise, the next bird for the year was an American robin resting in the middle of a little-travelled road; birds startled from their normal resting sites sometimes settle onto open ground rather than landing on a branch in the dark. The deep, resonant duet between a male and a female great horned owl provided my last pre-dawn species.
By Lawrence J. Winship
I really enjoy fall in the Pioneer Valley, for so many reasons—the changing and changeable weather, a shift from producing to storing away and, of course, the marvelous color show. I watch trees in all seasons, just as some folks watch birds, with the advantage that trees don’t move around nearly as much. Each tree is an individual, its shape and size influenced by more than just its species. Sure, looking closely one can assign each tree to a taxonomic category, but the ravages of time, weather and competition with near neighbors all play a role. A tree’s bark, limb arrangement, girth and wounds make each as unique as each of us. I watch to notice differences one day to the next, and in fall, wow! Do these changes speed up!
By Ted Watt
Every fall when I go into the woods I look for the flowers of our native witch hazel, Hamamelis virginiana. The scarlet leaves of the red maples are already littering the forest floor and sugar maple leaves are starting to drop. The comforts of summer are giving way to the coming of the cold. And witch hazel is just beginning its annual journey of reproduction.
By Charley Eiseman
The monarch butterflies have left us for the winter and are well on their way to Mexico. Most people know that as caterpillars these remarkable creatures feed exclusively on milkweed leaves. A lot less attention is paid to the food choices of other insects, so you might think it’s unusual for a species to be this finicky.
By David Spector
As the nights chill in October and November, vast numbers of waterfowl pass over us on their routes from prairie and arctic breeding grounds to the Atlantic coast. Most familiar to many people are the Canada geese, honking as they fly south in long diagonal lines and chevrons. The persistent observer can occasionally see or hear other species also moving south.
By Mark Elbroch
Oportus took refuge in the thickets that paralleled the main road. With little thought, I dropped to my hands and knees and penetrated the thicket. Catching the cat was all that mattered. Over and over, I wiggled close to the hounds and puma, but more often than not, the great cat heard my approach and ran. Finally, I managed to arrive on scene undetected. I saw Oportus through a lattice of branches, perhaps 30 feet away, lying comfortably in the open vault formed by arching bushes. The two hounds were not so foolish as to attack him, and sat at the safe distance of several meters, barking lazily. All was serene until someone crashed into the edge of the brush on the far side of the trio.
Hitchcock Center for the Environment
at Hampshire College
845 West Street | Amherst MA 01002 | 413.256.6006 | 413.253.2809 fax