By Chris Volonte
Moving through New England in a wave each fall is a petite predator that might be one of the most frequently overlooked birds in Massachusetts. Measuring 8 inches long and weighing less than two tennis balls, northern saw-whet owls breed in southern Canada and the northern U.S., and at high elevations such as the Appalachians. They have large gnomelike heads, big eyes, soft feathers and a tendency to sit tamely when a person is near. They’re nocturnal, inconspicuous and — if you’re lucky enough to see one up close — impossibly cute.
By Katie Koerten
I’m a really big fan of color. When people ask me what my favorite color is, I explain, “Well, I have different categories of favorite colors.” The kids in my nature programs nod in understanding. You see, favorite things are important to kids, and you have to be specific when you’re talking about them. For example, my favorite color in the nature category? Blue.
By Joshua Rose
This year, Massachusetts saw two species of insects arrive unbidden. One of them has been the subject of great attention, with warnings in advance, newspaper headlines about its arrival, and alerts from the state government. The other snuck in under the radar, barely noticed except by obsessive naturalists. One is a potential menace that could cause millions of dollars’ worth of damage; the other is potentially beneficial, including eating the first. One is native to the U.S., historically occurring south of New Jersey; the other had never been seen on this continent before 2014, previously found no closer to here than Japan. One feature that they share is that both can thank humanity for letting them reach Massachusetts.
By Michael Dover
In 1965, President Lyndon Johnson’s Science Advisory Panel reported to him on the risks posed by rising carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere, which Johnson included in an address to Congress. Decades later, the U.S. still lacks a comprehensive climate policy and strategy. The country is arguably more polarized than it was during the Vietnam War, and climate action is caught up in that divide. Given this history, anyone could be forgiven for giving up hope. But climate scientist Katharine Hayhoe of Texas Tech University sees the world differently. Born in 1972 — seven years after Johnson’s speech — and raised as an evangelical Christian, Hayhoe is the epitome of hope. Don’t call it optimism — she’s as realistic as they come when she tells us what’s in store if we don’t act to curb greenhouse gas emissions — but both her faith and her experience in talking to a wide diversity of people give her hope that humanity can meet this challenge.
By Kelsey Wentling
Recently, on a jog along the Mill River in Northampton, I ran by three bags of dog poop neatly lined up on a log and arranged in a rainbow sequence: green, blue, purple. The sight was almost beautiful, had it not been for the plastic and animal waste waiting to be ferried into one of Northampton’s most precious ecological resources just feet away. It bothered me— it really bothered me.
By Lawrence J. Winship
Weather disasters, dire predictions from climate modelers and polarizing language from politicians continue to fuel concerns about our global carbon footprint, as well they should. The linkage between increased levels of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere and increased global temperature and weather instability is obvious and well accepted by science. Burning of fossil fuels in the 1960s contributed 3.1 billion tonnes (metric tons; a tonne is equal to 2,200 pounds) of carbon annually; we now add more than three times that much each year. Although U.S. carbon emissions may have recently leveled off — mainly due to a switch from coal to natural gas — emissions from China and India are growing exponentially.
By David Spector
In New England’s late summer and fall, whole hillsides of leaves famously change color; meanwhile, another plant color change occurs on a tiny scale. Among the wildflowers now twinkling along New England roads are many species of asters. As with other plants in the daisy family, each aster “flower” is a composite of dozens of tiny flowers, called florets, of two types.
By Monya Relles
Over a long weekend in August, my parents and I met in Vermont to hike Mount Mansfield, the highest mountain in the state. The section we walked, struggled and scrambled up is a steep path, part of Vermont’s Long Trail, and the summit offers breathtaking views of the sloping Green Mountains.
The ridge is a delicate alpine zone and “Leave No Trace” principles — which focus on minimum impact while enjoying the outdoors — are posted all along the hike, beginning to end. A Green Mountain land steward at the top told me that in 2004 the mountaintop was practically bare rock. In contrast, the weekend I climbed it, it was awash with life: from petite mountain sandwort flowers to an abundance of low-bush blueberries to a pretty house finch perched near the summit. But I just couldn’t help thinking: Can’t we do even better than this?
By Tom Litwin
It was one of those thoughts you put aside to think about later, it was so fantastic I’d lose sight of the task at hand. I was researching why magnetic north is moving away from Canada and drifting toward Siberia, increasing its speed from 6 to 31 mph during the past two decades.
By Christine Hatch
Building roads in New England poses an engineering design challenge pitting human infrastructure against rivers and beavers, now with the added factor of climate change. We have lots of roads in Massachusetts, and lots of rivers. Everywhere they cross is an interaction between the natural world, with all of its unpredictability, and our transportation networks. These interactions aren’t always easy. A recent damaging flood in Belchertown is a case in point. Some folks quickly blamed beavers, but their dams weren’t the problem. The problem is how we design our roads and manage the water that they cross.
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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