Changing Tides

I may be known for rolling my eyes when hearing educators describe crossword puzzles, color by number, word searches, indeed any sort of puzzle, as fun work. I have always struggled with visual spatial tasks or as I describe it to those who note my thinly vailed response, "it's not my skill set." Imagine my confusion this vacation, when I realized that Wayne had gifted to me a thousand piece Audubon puzzle. It looked as though 2020 was going to end with the same sort of enthusiasm as a student faced with a double sided page of word problems. Go ahead and just close your eyes and "visualize it."

I have always subscribed to the notion of honor the gift, so when Abby and Wayne left for an errand, I began to set up my strategy for success. I had brought in the coffee table and a TV dinner table by the time they had returned. I told Wayne that I required the large folding table as well. Sorting flat edges, words, reds, blacks, oranges, greens whites, beaks, legs....It was too much for them to stand by and watch. Abby collected the border to assemble as I explained the process. Flats before color same with words I began; but Wayne was already applying his left handed, map loving, geometric logic. To make it more confusing, Abby informed me that using the picture was cheating! "Well okay then, I'm counting light pink and pale yellow as being white." Clearly I was in over my head. 

In 2020 I visited a salt marsh and attended three online presentations on salt marshes. Two were hosted by Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge in Wells ME and one by the Southeastern Vermont  Audubon Society. I was surprised to recognize Vernon residents in attendance at the Audubon meeting and that local Biologist Cory Ross introduced the Graduate Student presenting. Each presentation discussed the status of bird species of concern that nested in the marsh, the important role that these marshes play in cleaning polluted water, protection from storm events and flood control, how the marshes were historically impacted by agricultural use and continue to be impacted by development and climate change. It was further explained how marshes are naturally created but face increasing challenges that require intervention by Ecologists.

Salt water marsh, photo credit- Helen Manning

The programs included an opportunity to ask questions and I noticed that one particular question was asked each time. Viewers wanted to know, that since they didn't live anywhere near a salt marsh, what could they do to help? "All water flows to the ocean" seemed to be a unifying theme. It seems that our inland practices impact our rivers and streams and therefore the salt marshes' interdependent ecology with the ocean. Creating impervious surfaces increases water runoff pollution. Removing native plants and installing barriers between water and plants interferes with the natural system of absorption and water filtration. Poorly managed land delivers silt pollution to our rivers and streams, creating "dead zones" and biological imbalances. The overarching issue of climate change causing rising ocean levels is another major piece of the puzzle. This is an area where tiny states like VT are attempting to lead the way by reducing fossil fuel consumption. Like approaching any giant puzzle, there are multiple strategies required to solve it and all of them require cooperation between those defining the parameters and those working the puzzle. 

Salt water marsh, photo credit Helen Manning

Taxing rural VT's major source for winter heat and transportation to reduce consumption as you can well imagine, has sparked a good deal of "conversation." Talking about other's contributions to the problem and their need to bear the brunt of the solution seems more palatable. My mother in FL and her concern for Lake Okeechobee and the shrinking Everglades for example, is the reason that I am particular about the sugar that I buy. It seems more achievable to buy select sugar than to pay taxes on my fuel consumption. Each it seems however, is an important piece in solving the puzzle. If someone were to ask which is more important, the Everglades Snail Kite or Maine's Saltmarsh Sparrow, the answer must be, both of them.

Elevation above sea level at Everglades National Park

Yesterday our walk took us past a culvert that the town had replaced. It was replaced with the much larger culvert after heavy rains overwhelmed the previous one causing a lot of damage to nearby properties. I noticed that sometime after it was replaced, someone created a swimming hole near the outlet by constructing a small stone dam. To further complicate things, a tree fell just downstream of the dam and that too has been collecting mud and other debris. I have watched over the past couple of years, the stream erode the soil around the two dams creating a new streambed to the left of the original. Now during heavy rain events and snow melts, the stream takes two paths, one over the dams and the other around them. Why I wonder, do we now require bigger culverts than were installed in the 70s? What has changed to make it financially advantageous for our state and town to redesign and install these water pathways? How is the water that flows through them connected to restoring and protecting Maine's salt marshes?

Wayne's puzzle gift isn't just another 2020 headache to work through. As it turns out, it is a deeply meaningful segway to explaining our connectedness, our attempts at organizing what is in front of us and the value of many diverse, albeit cooperative approaches to placing each equally important piece. I have a new answer to the question of, "Why should Vermont tax fossil fuels when Connecticut consumes infinitely more than we do?" Clearly the answer to the question is Maine's salt marshes. It's also important to remember that every puzzle begins by setting the first piece-Norma Manning

New culvert in Vernon, VT

The stream found a new path around the manmade and natural dams

Resources:

Southeastern Vermont Audubon Society

Rachel Carson National Refuge 

What is That Blackbird?

 A friend of mine from South Carolina posted her photograph of a mystery bird on social media recently asking us "experts" what we thought that it could be. In the old days, I being quite snarky at times might have replied, "Well it's not a turkey!" followed by several emojis. But that was before my pride was handed to me by a Birdologist (why aren't they called this anyway?). So treading politely on my friend, I instead replied, "I believe it is a Wood Stork?" As luck would have it numerous friends agreed and so it was dubbed. 

Please don't tell my Ornithologist friends this; but Wayne and I have a whole category of birds that we call farm birds. I'm not writing about chickens, ducks, geese, and the peacocks that live at the end of Lily Pond Road or even pigeons; I'm writing about those birds that flock in the spring and fall moving through the neighborhood gleaning what may. I have many a relative who has fostered in me this interest in annoying birds and to them they fall into two categories: the filthy starling and the Blue Jay. Though they dump my feeders daily, I choose to favor Blue Jays, especially in bleak November and snowless Decembers. Seeing that their greedy manner is outweighed by their flashy, blue feisty nature, I have chosen to embrace this squawky alarmist that scatters wildlife at my presence. 

I am instead, speaking to the, grackles, European Starlings, cow birds, crows and yes. I'm tossing in Redwinged- blackbirds. I include them not because they seasonally skip across fields among the noisy hoards of other blackbirds; but because, in the field I can't for the life of me, tell a female Redwinged from the shapeshifter starling! I concede the point, that breeding Redwinged-blackbirds are to my eyes,  not typically spotted among the summer field birds; but rather are found in and around wetlands (that should offer help with the task of sorting them out anyway.) To my expert oligist friends and extreme bird hobbyists, let's be honest here; farms in the valley prosper because of fertile soils brought here by the water. Our farms were once lake then river bottom; and today here in Vernon, our farms border the river and include wetlands and wet soils. So if you are a bird expert shaking your head right about now, I make no apologies for my willing lack of discernment. That turkey does in fact swim.

To those with a keen sense of this and that, who are asking "what about Ravens, birds of prey and vultures, aren't those birds seen on farm lands too?" And to those who have real life experience with grassland birds, (the actual farmers and birders) who are asking why I haven't included: Bobolink, Meadowlark or sparrows?" I invite you to be guest bloggers on Nature Finds. 

For the rest of us who most likely at one time or another searched "Wood Storks in VT" or "What is that black bird with a green head?" shall we continue with today's quest?

Welcome. Today outside of our front window, our yard became invaded by a motley crew. A casual glance would have concluded black birds; but soon some brazen chaps began hanging off of the suet feeder and revealed their dappled presence. "Starlings in the front" Wayne said. Meanwhile I was looking out the back window watching what were certainly truly farm birds, and so cast back, "Are you sure?" We've had this conversation far too many times to not attempt to get to the tail feathers of it all. 

Definitely not a blackbird and arguably much more exciting is, Judy Smith's sighting of a Wood Stork in SC. Our migratory grackles are probably hanging with the storks in Florida this time of year. 

 According to eBird, Grackles are hard to identify (oh joy) with three kinds in North America:  the Great-tailed, the Boat-tailed and the Common Grackle (of which there are two subspecies of Common).* I guess it's all in how you look at the tail?  Okay eBird nerds,  there is more on the Grackle than I can hope to understand so let's narrow this down. I'm only interested in Grackles that spend time in Vernon, so let's eliminate the Great-tailed and the Boat-tailed. This leaves the two varieties of  Common Grackles, the Bronzed and the Purple. The Bronzed being west of the Appalachians and the Purple (of which there are two varieties) being the one I have been looking for. Our Purple Grackle is purply black all over with some purples having green on their back. But of course the females aren't as iridescent as the males; so does that make them just plain old black in appearance?* They have black bills with males having yellow eyes during breeding season.  In any event, our Grackles with their long, luxurious tail feathers, fly out of here by November's end so Grackles couldn't be at my feeder this morning. 

*Grackles are you getting them right?: eBird

According to All About Birds, European Starlings were purposefully introduced to NYC by fans of Shakespeare. Clearly it's been awhile since high school and so I haven't a clue as to their importance in Shakespeare; but if it's anything like the popularity of Harry Potter's Hedwig, then I can relate. Truth be told, I would rather the owl than starling. The starling might have been a better match for the Potter books however, as they are true shapeshifters and can imitate up to twenty bird calls.* In the fall, these birds sport white tipped feathers giving them a speckled appearance. By summer, the white tips of the feathers have worn away leaving them glossy black with a dazzling purple and green sheen. Their tails are short and their bills long. Their bills are yellow during breeding season and in my estimation are woodpecker shaped.  Immature starlings are brownish with heavy speckling on their back and underneath with a brown bill. 

*European Starling Overview: The Cornell Lab

The Brown Headed Cowbird is another introduced bird with a breeding plan that gives it a bad reputation. Females lay their eggs in other birds nests where the offspring out compete their host's for resources. Clever or lazy, it's a great propagation strategy as it frees the Cowbird up to lay more eggs. The males, thankfully are easily identified with their black body, brown head and finch like beak (think ice cream cone). Females are another matter as I would assuredly confuse females with finches. They are dull brown with soulful black eyes. All About Birds states that she has white streaking on her belly (is this a unique quality?) Juveniles are brown "with scaly-looking back and streaked underparts."* Oh good grief, I hope that all my cowbird sightings are male!

Brown-headed Cowbird Identification; The Cornell Lab

Male Red-winged Blackbirds are thankfully easy to identify with their shiny black body and red then yellow shoulder feathers. They remind me of "look at me" Army Generals donning their dress uniform shoulder boards. I sure am grateful that male Red-winged can tell females apart from the other girls; because I find it near impossible to! They too have a cone shaped bill with dull brown feathers. It seems they differ from the female Cowbird because their streaking is all over and they have a hint of yellow around the bill. Better visit the Optometrist before attempting an in the field identification.  Isn't it fun that these birds all flock together by the hundreds if not tens of thousands once breeding season is over?

Red-winged Blackbird Identification; The Cornell Lab

Red-winged Blackbird: American Bird Conservancy

Black from bill, to tail, to feet, American Crows " are almost as large as a chicken."* I assume we are talking Plymouth Rock and not the bantam variety of chicken. They are intelligent, adaptable and like teenage humans, they tend to congregate and raise a racket. It's no leap to learn that colonists, farmers and recreational sharpshooters (to no avail), have made a concerted effort to eradicate them.  Humans are odd ducks don't you think? We introduce and bolster one species due to some fanciful invented literary worth, and in the same instance attempt to wipe out another species that predates our own arrival on the continent. I learned today that the American black Crow's population has dropped by 45% since the introduction of West Nile Virus to the US in 1999.* 

American Crow; Wikipedia

Mystery black birds with cone shaped bills, sweep my deck for seed. 

A project worth learning more about:

Vermont: Protect Grassland Birds by Mowing Later; The Outdoor Wire 

Hat tip to Cheryl who stopped to hear me chat one fall day. I began asking if she had seen any hawks and soon I was talking about the blackbirds sitting atop the dead trees between the farm field and Lily pond. This week I chatted it up again lamenting (droning on really) the failure of this soon to be published (or not) crazy long and boring blog entry. Cheryl with a straight face expressed that she likes the ones with all the detail...we shall see my friend. - Norma Manning

Residents in Nature

 I often run into residents while out and about in Vernon. Here is a sample of a few gracious residents who allowed me to capture them, or shared with me their own pictures of them enjoying outdoor activities in town. I hope to continue this project as it highlights how we embrace the natural offerings in town.  So if I see you on the snowy trail this winter, I would appreciate your smile for Nature Finds - Norma Manning

Ana collecting oak leaves to place around her blueberry bushes. This is her only soil amendment for her berries. 

She was removing a spreading juniper shrub and found this Garter snake just as I walked by. She placed it off to the side after posing for a picture. I'm sorry that I didn't get her name as she was very impressive with landscaping tools and the snake.

Ian, "Everyday is Greenup day for me." While we were chatting, Ian dug up a soda can and dropped it into his bag.

Vaughn and Alex ride down to Lily Pond at sunset. 

Paul photographing birds- picture by Mary Miller

Mary capturing the river valley- Picture by Paul Miller 

Seth with his 172lb, 7 point buck harvested on November 22. He wouldn't tell me where in Vernon he had harvested it; but his daughter did...

Joshua finishing up a five mile run to the Vernon Historical Society's museum. He used to run marathons and is trying to get back into it.

Jessica, Elliana, Silvia, Marcella and furry friend Charlotte were out for a walk on a mild November afternoon

Room For Change

Traditions are tricky business. Like the mince pie with only one slice eaten before the guests take Chinese food containers and gallon bags of turkey home; some traditions are passed down from generation to generation, some materialize out of necessity and some result from inclusion. This is why Wayne carves the bird with his grandfather's carving set and why our family began serving birthday cake for desert on Thanksgiving (Happy Birthday Emily Tuite). I can only wonder if eating pie over Zoom with our kids on a Thursday afternoon in November of 2020 will become another tradition. I can only hope that in person pie will make a return for 2021.

Wayne and I's first Christmas together happened in Winter Park, Florida (the irony!). We managed to find a live tree that we could sort of afford on Christmas Eve day. We decorated the tiny Charlie Brown tree in shorts and t-shirts, with ornaments that my mother and mother in law had mailed to us from VT. We still hang those decorations (beside Barbara Moseley's from the Vernon Historians) on our tree 35 years later. Though our parents have long since transitioned to artificial trees and my mom now lives in FL while we are in VT,  Wayne and I have maintained our childhood tradition of  a live tree. 

Oh sure there are other wonderful traditions like my mother in-law's sticky buns, her saving wrappings for the next year and my mother's Christmas Tourtiere. My mother passed down to me a piece of green cloth that she used to cover her coffee table during the family party. I did the same with my own children reveling in the festive addition. It wasn't too many years ago when I was unpacking that cherished cloth that I realized that it is in fact from a tablecloth that mom had salvaged by cutting it down. I still deeply miss Wayne's grandmother Thelma and try to say at least once during the holidays one of her endearing sentiments, "Everything is so good, God Bless!" Holding onto things while making room for new, is a balance that anyone who has ever received a child's crafted ornament on Christmas Day understands. 

I have vivid memories of watching Wayne and our daughter Kayden from our living room window taking a tree out of Wayne's truck while I was holding our newborn Helen. From then on, we never again set out to get a tree prior to December 7th. As our family grew, so too did the size of our tree, with some leaving scrape marks on our ceiling and chips in the floor where Wayne was forced to cut down the trunks. When all of the kids could walk on their own, we began cutting our own trees at various farms. Let me tell you about the challenges of getting a consensus of six on the perfect tree! When Ethan grew to six foot three, he became our measuring stick for tree height and the one who helped Wayne hoist the tree onto the car roof. 

One year, our youngest Abigail positively fell in love with a tiny Charlie Brown tree. Though she was fervently clinging to her tree, I thoughtlessly vetoed her choice. It seems that I had at that moment forgotten about my own Charlie Brown tree and crushed her holiday spirit. Perhaps this has something to do with her tradition of hanging a popsicle stick framed picture of Paul Rudd at eye level on the front of our tree each year.

With no kids home for Thanksgiving and Helen being in ME for her birthday, Wayne and I will be trying something both old and new this weekend. Instead of trudging through rows of perfectly manicured award winning Christmas trees at a VT  farm, we have decided to go in search of a $5.00 tree in the Green Mountain National Forest. I'm pretty excited to get lost (really lost) on a cold November day while hunting down the perfect VT native Charlie Brown tree! I have decided however, that even if the kids are unable to join us for in person Christmas, Paul Rudd will be there and tiny owls with any luck will not. -Norma Manning

Post note: 

When our parents transitioned into our guests and until recently, my sister's family each year, hosted us for Easter and we them at Thanksgiving. This arrangement was made so that Claire and I could both enjoy one holiday each without having to panic clean. Additionally, Wayne's sister Marsha, offered that if we were willing to drive to BF on Christmas, she was willing to host. A mention to my brothers Charles & Doug and their families, for they were also willing to travel (after they got their deer). A shout out to my brother Paul,  a Physicians Assistant who works all of the holidays and his wife Darleen who has always put up with that.  

I have over the years, been deeply blessed and grateful for our extended family's generosity. Though 2020 has disrupted our lives, it cannot disrupt my love for you. Wayne, Janice, Annette, we are who we are because of you. You carry on through the lessons you have taught us. Happy Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas to all.

Resources to help identify evergreens

Trees of Vermont

Aren't They All Just Pines?

Spruce Up Your ID Skills

Some of the Vermont native conifers I have come across here in Vernon. A frost covered Eastern Hemlock.

Eastern White Pine covered in frost. White Pines have five needles.

Update: A reader corrected me on this identification writing that this is not a Juniper, but instead an Atlantic White Cedar! So it seems that I will have to learn to call the trees in my front yard the cedars instead of the junipers. This also means that I am still on the hunt for a Juniper in town. 

White Cedar / Arborvitae  has been cultivated to fit the urban landscape. In it's original form, the Northern White Cedar is typically 40 to 50 feet tall with some reaching 125 feet tall. 

Though native to VT Red Pine wasn't on my radar until I found this grove planted in Vernon. 

Spruce are difficult for me to tell apart. Though my father in law says that this spruce belongs in the mountains and not in the lowlands, I believe, based on its menthol scent, this is a Black Spruce. This particular tree is located in my own yard.

While I know that they are here and I have most likely walked right past them, I don't yet have photographs of White Spruce, Red Spruce, Fir or Tamarac. I am sure it won't be long before I add them here. 

The Birdseed Coonhound Connection

When the bears go to sleep there are decisions to be made. Even before we make the first decision, we begin prepping Luna just in case. Luna's vet is a fox hunter, is fond of calling Luna, "Lou" and at every visit she reminds us that our coonhound's ribs are buried too deep in a layer of fat. So it was, that in October, we began cutting back on her chow in anticipation of putting out the bird feeders.  

Luna is 6 years old, 69 pounds and is a rescue Treeing Walker / Redbone cross, who was bred to be a bear dog. When she didn't make the cut, she was placed for adoption at MHS. She was adopted and returned (for stealing toddler food) before we took her in. It seems that the only interest Luna has in bears are the birdfeeders that bears dine upon. As way of a side note, Wayne and I now intimately understand why the Basset Hound was bred, for Luna's head often rests on our dining room table while we eat.

Birds don't need us to feed them seed, and neither do coonhounds and bears. Feeding birds is purely for our enjoyment and sometimes to their detriment. I'm a bit of an experiential learner when it comes to these things, so it took a hummingbird feeder full of black ants and yellow jackets to convince me that growing Bee Balm in front of my window was far better than making syrup, dodging stingers and scrubbing ants out of feeders.

I was reminded of this lesson this week after Mary Miller contacted me. I had commented on one of Paul's stunning bird photographs in which he had used Oriental Bittersweet as a prop. Though attractive, Mary wasn't satisfied with Paul's decision to use an invasive plant. Mary hoped that I had some Winterberry to share as locating colorful berries in November is challenging. Though I have always fancied a native Winterberry shrub, I already had "inherited" plenty of an ornamental variety of holly and I couldn't justify the substitution. I offered Mary some of my holly and juniper branches instead. Planting native flowers and shrubs for insect pollinators is a given; but planning for berries in the winter for birds during planting season requires delayed gratification. 

Decisions indeed; finch eye, window strikes, routine sterilizing and refilling of feeders, mounds of empty shells tracked into the house, not to mention sprouted millet in the yard and yes there are those perennial marauders; our neighborhood cat, squirrels, bears, mice and coonhounds. This was going to be the year that I stopped the insanity! Wayne however, knows me better than I know myself; and when I came home from work I skeptically eyed a 50lb bag of Flyer's Choice in the mudroom. This was not the system that I had developed and it seemed that Wayne was finally chiming in. 

The suet feeder is out front hanging from a chain secured by a double clip from a dog cable that prevents squirrel entry. My home mix of seed hangs over the steps where it can be viewed while washing dishes and yet is not too close to the slider so as to limit the amount of shells needing to be excised from the door's tract in the spring. Developed after years of trial and error, my home mix begins with bags of black oil sunflower seed and ends with those cheap bags that contain mostly white millet. It's important to not buy the red millet, as the millet is for my much loved, ground feeding Dark Eyed Juncos and Mourning Doves who don't seem to care for the red. The black oil seed, to my mind is less messy and is included for everybody else. We store our mix in a lidded metal trash can that we keep in the garage. Weekends are to be spent shopping for bags containing white millet which are added to the can at the precise time when I judge that the can is too heavy on sunflower seed. Good grief, Wayne's choice contains safflower and stripped sunflower! 

Why do I even bother?

This is why: 

Denny who is head of facilities at the school, found a nest out front and brought it into our kindergarten classroom. Mrs. Eriksson asked me to present it to the class and this is what they had to say: I think it's a black and white peeper's nest. I think it's a  Red Jay's nest, a Blue Jay's, a Robin's...The bird wonders where it's home is. I see mud. Where was it found? We should put it back so that the bird can find it! The mom doesn't know where the babies are! Did the babies fall out? What if they are dead or if the mom saved them? I think 3 or 22 babies. Maybe the babies fell out of the nest when the nest fell. And my favorite comment showing wisdom beyond their kindergarten years was, "A teenager bird built the nest." At five and six young years, Vernon's smallest scientists observed the nest, looked at it's size and makeup, making contextual and experiential based guesses, followed by statements of compassion. One student even proposed a possible plan to fix the perceived misfortune. 

On the same day, our Principal Mary Ross told me a story about how she found a stunned bird in front of her door. Not knowing what she could do to help the bird, she called her husband who is a bird biologist. Cory told Mary to pick up the bird to see if it would fly away. Instead the bird remained in her hand motionless. Cory then suggested that Mary gently jiggle her hand because, "sometimes they need to be reminded that they have wings to fly." Don't we all Cory? 

Caring for those who are smaller, suffer misfortune, seem to be stuck out in the cold or seemingly hungry for our help, makes us better humans. Helping feathered others, distracts us from our long silent winter months and rewards us with a sense of stewardship. It reminds us that though we are often removed from nature (and like Luna longs for birdseed), we still long for a connection with nature. -Norma Manning

Blue Jay by -Paul Miller

Black Capped Chickadee by - Paul Miller

In Search of Mudpuppies

Getting Hooked

Some readers might think me completely ridiculous when I tell them that Facebook groups on occasion lead me to write nature blogs about Vernon. In this instance, I was watching a local WCAX  news piece on Mudpuppies* right before a post by Vermont Fish & Wildlife Facebook on the same exact topic, miraculously appeared on my homepage (funny how that happens). How could I resist taking a closer look?  Well let me tell you, what I found was quite the dust up and Vernon Vermont is sort of knee deep in it. 

There are plenty of corners in which to stand in when it comes to the value of eradicating invasive Sea Lamprey and whether or not the practice impacts Mudpuppies. There also seems to be an annual November conversation about it when the Lamoille River is treated with Lampricide. It's easy to get caught up in emotion of it all, as the pictures of Mudpuppies are so darn cute and those protesting on their behalf appear so passionate! I'm not getting involved with the Lampricide application debate here as I have even found what I see as discrepancies between VT F&W Lampricide impact statements** and their 11/05/2020 news interview on WCAX*.  I only bring the Lampricide issue to your attention, because upon posting an online question about it to the VT F&W Facebook group, I was met with reader comments like, "...Do your research!" and "Have you ever tried eating mudpuppies?" I appreciate it when strangers challenge me (or rile me up) enough to do my homework for this is how I discovered Vernon's role in the Mudpuppy story.

(Image credit Wikimedia)

What Is A Mudpuppy?

Mudpuppies are a completely aquatic salamander. They are Vermont's largest salamander averaging thirteen inches; but they can reach up to eighteen inches in length. They are easily identified by their red external gills that persist into adulthood. Adult Mudpuppies are brown with dark spots, They have flat heads, short legs with four toes each, and a laterally flattened tail. They mate starting at four to six years of age and can live up to 20 years old. Mating takes place in the fall, but the females do not lay their 18 to 180 eggs until spring. These salamanders are dubbed "puppy" because their vocalizations sound somewhat like a dog's bark.*** 

 Though an opportunistic predator, the Mudpuppy primarily eats crayfish, snails, insect larvae, worms and small fish. According to Vermont Fish and Wildlife, "The Mudpuppy is a generalist, occupying myriad habitats throughout its range including lakes, rivers, small creeks, canals, irrigation ditches and reservoirs." They live in cold, warm, moving and still water. The bottom of the body of water can be graveled or muddy with the juveniles preferring pools with minimal silt. They are found in both water that is clear or clouded. It is thought that they have limited migrations into shallower water for the purpose of laying eggs. They require "flat rocks, slabs, logs or planks" to provide shelter from the sun and predators." The lower CT River is listed under the heading Habitat Types**

What Is Their Status?

Though they enjoy a global rank of G5, mudpuppies are classified as a state of Vermont natural heritage species; with a conservation assessment of "high priority" S2 (rare). The state trend is categorized as "declining". There have been two authenticated reports in Vernon between 1993 and 2017. They are confident of the presence of Mudpuppies in the Southern VT Piedmont** Biologists think however, that our Connecticut River Mudpuppies may have a slightly different genetic composition than the VT native northern mudpuppies. Our population of mudpuppies may have been introduced to our area from Ohio. Scientists have listed "Population Genetics" as being of medium importance in conservation.**

It seems odd that an animal considered to be a "generalist" would be rare in its native range; and as I mentioned above, the equation with regards to the contributing factors of their decline is still being researched. Habitat degradation, a preference for cooler water during rising temperatures, and botulism poisoning may be important factors and are being studied by IL researchers in the Great Lakes region. "Mudpuppies are also very sensitive to pollution. That characteristic could make them especially important to researchers."**** 

How Can Vernon Help?

Listed among the high priorities by Vermont researchers in the Fish and Wildlife Action Plan is to,  "Develop survey techniques to effectively sample the Mudpuppy...monitor the size and determine the sustainability of existing populations..."** Reporting Mudpuppies is an aspect of conservation where Vernon residents have an opportunity to play a role. Mudpuppies are more active during the fall and winter months. For this reason they are sometimes hooked while ice fishing. Once discovered, residents should  photograph their find and then release the Mudpuppy where it was discovered. Anyone finding a mudpuppy is being asked to report your find here.

Vernon's Long Tradition

Vernon is no stranger to hosting and protecting endangered plants and animals. In 2009, the Department of Fish and Wildlife acquired land near (redacted location per request of VT state herpetologist Luke Goff). The parcel, championed by resident Peggy O'Neil Farabaugh and unanimously approved by the then town select board, was procured by the state for the conservation of valuable habitat that supported a rare semi aquatic species. Once obtained by the state, this land expanded existing wildlife designated management areas by attaching it to the (redacted location per request of VT State Herpetologist Luke Groff). The establishment of this parcel for conservation purposes additionally benefited species such as, waterfowl, frogs, snakes, salamander and deer. (see addendum)

Vernon has a proud heritage of conservation from the Black Gum Swamps at the Maynard J. Miller Town Forest, to Lily Pond, our Farmlands Conservation Committee, the Roaring Brook Wildlife Management Area including a state wetland preserve and the Newton Road F&W Fish Hatchery pond. Peggy O'Neil Faragbauh  has also been working diligently to raise resident's awareness of the status of the Monarch Butterfly.  With Vernon's long tradition in conservation, it seems like a natural step for residents to participate in identifying possible populations of Mudpuppies here in Vernon. We can as citizen scientists play an important role in conservation while leaving the Sea Lamprey and Ohio genetics debates to the Herpetologists -Norma Manning

Addendum:

This article was edited on November 22nd and again on November 27th per written request by VT State Herpetologist Luke Groff in an effort to comply with state laws protecting the exact locations of threatened and endangered wildlife. The information conveyed in my original article as previously written, was found as public information and was directly quoted from a public source. Though I did not specifically disclose anything more than was previously shared by multiple media outlets (including the department of Vermont Fish and Wildlife), understanding the importance of protecting threatened and endangered wildlife it is important that everyone is aware that specific locations of populations not be disclosed. I therefor included this addendum in an effort to raise awareness. 

*Critics concerned VT lamprey poisoning harming salamander population, WCAX

**Vermont Department of Fish and Wildlife, Wildlife Action Plan, Revision 2015, Species Conservation Report, Mudpuppy

***Necturus Maculosus, Animal Diversity Web

****Secretive Amphibian Can Provide Pollution Clues, Great Lakes Echo

Mudpuppy, Canadian Herpetological Society

Vermont Reptile and Amphibian Atlas

Vermont's Reptile and Amphibian Species and Conservation Status

Report a Sighting (form)

Roaring Brook Wildlife Management Area

Make Way for The Hunters

 Wayne and I have been ribbing each other for a couple of weeks and it goes something like this; I say "skunk" and he says "Squirrel." Nothing more needs to be said as we exactly know what the other's argument is. Last night while glued to multiple news outlets, Wayne put Luna out for the annoy(inth) time, only to immediately bring her back in. He held her firmly by the collar and marched her right into the living room. He inquired if she smelled like skunk, ran his hands over her raised back hair and went back outside. Looking both bewildered and remorseful, Luna dared not move from where Wayne had left her.  Thankfully, Luna sported only eau de fraiche! When Wayne returned to his chair, under my breath I said, "skunk." 

 While hunters case the fields and woods in Vernon, it seems prudent for hikers to stick to well traveled paths and roads. Although it's not against the rules for hikers to be in these areas during hunting season, I feel that it's a minor inconvenience to allow hunters the space they need for a sport that is a valuable asset to VT conservation.* Additionally, space is getting tighter for this heritage sport due to the parcelization and development (not to mention the posting) of land. The VT Natural Resources Council reported, that between 2012 and 2017, Vermont lost an estimated 100,2000 acres of forestland. "Both the amount of land in parcels 50 acres and larger and the number of parcels 50 acres and larger are decreasing..."** The squeeze is on for both conservation and hunters, so I figure that I will survive a few weekends doing yard work instead of hiking. 

If none of this is making any sense at all to you, fear not for I have thought of a visual. Imagine that you purchased  one of those premade rectangle cheese pizza's at the deli. Wayne thought he would like pizza and so bought a cheese pizza. Because someone (Wayne) hates olives, I ceremoniously place olives on only half of that pizza making half inedible for him. Now this pizza is plenty big enough for two, so half a pizza isn't such a big deal. It's not a problem that is, until your brother in law who likes anchovies (blech) stakes a claim. Wayne seeing that others are adding on, is bound to want cured meat and mushrooms but not fish or olives. He begins to add his toppings, only to learn that a millennial vegetarian who also hates olives and mushrooms is craving eggplant pizza...Wayne bakes the pizza in the oven and then carefully cuts it up. Wayne is happy to finally have his portion before our son walks in and declares, "Yum, pepperoni and mushroom pizza! 

 As I was saying, I have plenty of leaf and twig management to break a sweat and keep me out of the woods on November weekends; and as it turns out, after the first hard freeze is a wonderful ankle twisting time to explore your own subdivided property. Occasionally we've had deer wander through our yard; but we have dogs and we don't have enough land for them to take up residence. Our residents are smaller animals that discovered their niche in our man made ecosystem. One unbashful resident is the skunk that digs holes in the lawn searching for tasty grubs all the while being ever alert to our nosey Luna.  I consider skunks to be allies, as comparatively thinking, their aerating my lawn is better than having all the roots gnawed away by hungry grubs. However, if I were the manicured lawn sort of landowner, skunks digging up my yard could also be upsetting. 

Nothing keeps me from my chores like any excuse I can find coupled with a good mystery. When I was cutting down the area that I allow to grow up each year for wildlife, I discovered that a den had been used for a second season. The difference between this year and last, is that the abode was noticeably expanded. I measured dirt that had been cast 54 inches from the opening and then 39 inches opposite of that. There was no lose dirt to the left or right of the den. The entrance is eight inches tall and twelve inches wide. I stuck my tape in 68 inches before I chickened out and stopped poking the bear. Okay, so perhaps not a bear; but maybe a Red Fox calls the den home.*** I managed to find one unidentifiable (for this novice) print that somewhat looks like a Red Fox print. I have managed to have no negative encounters with this resident and so I'm pleased to share the premises. 

While both the skunk and fox made their home in our backyard, we have a more frustrating "friend" mining out front. This is the ankle twisting chap that I wrote about above. If you are unaware of his impressive work, your foot will suddenly sink and you'll be hoping that you can pick yourself up off the ground before the neighbors see you there. Why is it that the smallest of creatures can cause the greatest anguish? Vermont Garden Journal reports that the smell of raw castor oil spread along the tunnel irritates their senses;**** but our mole's or vole's longest tunnel is 50 paces long! This does not include all of the spurs that run to the left and right that connect to other tunnels. Perhaps it would be easier to wear snowshoes while out front. Having my tape measure already at hand, I found their tunnels to be five inches wide on the outside and rising three inches above the ground. What's interesting, is that upon finding the spot where the tunnel was mounded, I gently pushed the dirt aside to find a perfectly round quarter sized hole leading to a three inch deep, below ground tunnel. Seeing that there are mounds of soil along the tunnel, I suspect that we have moles. Moles (unlike voles) mean my bulbs and trees no harm as they are in search of worms.**** In any event, I also noted a pile of scat near one end of the tunnel. A pile of scat may mean that a predator is already on the job and will soon solve our mole concerns. 

    . 

It's important that Vermonters become familiar with the impact that land use has on the precarious balance of prey and predator. In my neighborhood, there was once a covenant that prohibited fences. I assume that this ban was an attempt mediate the impact of the development and allow large mammals to pass through it. The covenant has since expired and so additional "roadblocks" have been erected. 

If somehow we managed to erect enough "roadblocks" to keep predators like the fox out of the neighborhood, imagine the number of rabbits, (say nothing of moles) that we would have to adjust to!  

When Europeans brought with them farming, a fear of large predators and an increased demand for fur and trophies to Vermont, the days of the Vermont Catamount and wolf became numbered. The last native Catamount was shot in 1881.***** Our native wolf disappeared from VT in the late 1800's, only to have the non native Coyote move into the state in the 1940's.******The loss of these large native predators created an imbalance in our White Tail populations. To their detriment, this human interference increased VT's deer numbers past carrying capacity. One result of increased populations is winter starvation as competition for food depletes resources. Other impacts of crowding are stress, the spread of diseases like respiratory illnesses and Chronic Wasting Disease. Parasites like deer tick are also brought into neighborhoods when land pressure and overcrowding occur. High deer populations also increased conflicts with humans in the way of crop destruction and eventually with the automobile which came on the scene in 1898. Without the Catamount and wolf, careful heard management through hunting became imperative to sustain a healthy White Tail population. Without large unimpeded tracts of land for deer habitat, and permission granted by landowners to hunt on it, the balance may again be jeopardized. The alternative is to welcome higher numbers of large predators like the coyote and bobcat into our communities; but again, that would require large tracts of undeveloped land if they are to avoid conflicts with humans.

-Norma Manning

Resources:

*A New Need For an Old Tradition: Hunters Help Vermont's Forests, Vermont Land Trust

**Loss of Undeveloped Woodland in VT, VT Natural Resources Council

***Red Fox, Vermont Fish and Wildlife Department

****Vermont Garden Journal: Moles and Voles, VPR

*****It's Official: Feds Declare The Catamount Extinct, VPR

******Coyote, Vermont Fish and Wildlife

Untitled Halloween Blog

 I watched the birds at the suet feeder this morning and its seventeen degrees. There are jays, titmice, chickadees, sparrows, a robin, one seemingly misguided finch and several kinds of woodpeckers. It is at times like these that I scold myself for not making the effort to better learn my birds. What I think are three kinds of nuthatches gripping the metal cage, jostling for position and when they leave my shy Red Bellied makes an appearance only to be spooked by a much smaller bird. I know that it is a Red Bellied because I sent a picture to Helen just yesterday to learn it's name.  The first of the season juncos make me smile even though I know they are for me, harbingers of winter. 

The one birdbath that I leave out all winter is frozen solid. The cherry tree out front from which the suet feeder hangs, is sparsely covered with interspersed green and yellow leaves. Maple leaves cover more of the front lawn than yesterday's snow and thankfully the sky is brighter than it has been for some time. It is Halloween. 

I'm thinking about the hunters and trying to remember if it's poor luck to have deer stay down due to cold or good luck to have a trace of snow in which to track them. My brothers are hunters but I never picked up the sport. My first hunting experience was in Grafton when Charlie asked if I would go with him to make sure that he came out of the woods okay. I must have been eighteen and this was in the days before cellphones. I picked out a log and sat by myself reading a book until he returned. Charlie is a much more successful hunter these days and I still like to sit by myself in the woods. 

This year we picked out two large pumpkins that are this morning, sitting uncarved in my dining room. We used to bring in the pumpkins due to "cabbage night" shenanigans; but here in Vernon that tradition seems to have fallen out of favor. Perhaps it is the cold Vermont nights that keep people indoors or maybe it's because our houses are spread so far apart. I asked Wayne to lug our pumpkins inside, (so that they wouldn't become blocks of ice) after he had already settled into his chair. I wasn't going to carve them or decorate this year due to the virus, but I changed my mind last minute. Kayden called from San Diego letting us know that she is camping next week to try and get away from the news cycle. Come to think of it, I haven't seen many campaign signs on front lawns in Vernon this go around.

I usually have envelopes of seeds collected from my annuals sitting above the dryer by now; but I never got around to it this year. The mower deck is still packed with mulched grass and leaves. Snow shovels are hanging above the snow thrower in the back of the shed and my garden hoses are still out. Nine years ago we lost two trees during a Halloween snow storm, so one would think that I knew better to let the season slip by so. I have in my archives, a great photograph of wild California Condors at the Grand Canyon. They let me get right up to them. I had planned to write a blog about Turkey Vultures and Black Vultures as opposed to the Condor; but I never did manage to get a good picture of our birds. This was a missed opportunity for certain, as Halloween is filled with bats, spiders and vultures. - Norma Manning

Autumn Nuts Like Me

 As I wander about in the Autumn, I stuff my pockets with acorns, hazelnuts and whatever seed that catches my attention with the goal of growing a tree. Some particularly magnificent trees, I admire enough to collect a dozen or so seeds in order to cast them onto other sites. I am sure to carefully choose places where other like trees are growing with the thought of preserving and spreading the mother tree's genetics.  I fully understand that the odds are against the seed ever reaching maturity and here's the reason why - squirrels.

Oh sure we are all told as small tots that birds, deer and squirrels are helpers as they disperse seeds near and far. The ugly truth is however, that a squirrel will choose the one nut that you cherish from thousands of others and that will be the one he cracks. I know this to be fact because I have finally learned how to outwit the beast under very controlled conditions. Well to be perfectly honest, I have outwitted them on one occasion and that was more than ten years ago now. You know, that if you really consider a squirrel, you will find that they are in reality little more a furry rat that raids our birdfeeders.

And so it was that I had my eye on a Black Walnut tree growing along 142 behind the school. I thought it would be an easy task to grow one myself and so brought a nut home and popped it in the produce drawer of my fridge. Wayne thought that I had gone nuts every time he wanted an apple from the fridge. When it was time, I brought it out to the garage, potted it and waited for spring. It was thieved right out of my garage. The next Autumn, I potted several nuts right away, sunk them in the ground and covered them with chicken wire. The plastic pots were gnawed through and the nuts pillaged. After a couple more Autumns of trying, I finally managed to sprout one tree by potting it in a clay pot, wrapping the entire pot with chicken wire and completely burying it. Who I ask you, Is the nut now?

These days my tree is taller than our roof and I spend time each summer digging out or cutting down Black Walnut saplings growing in my rhododendrons, planter boxes, blackberries, up through my deck boards... I am positive that had we not put on a chimney cap, I would have trees growing in there too. Here is some sage advice, never never never cross a squirrel for they and their hoards of relatives will spend the rest of their days exacting revenge! "Oh so you want a Black Walnut do you? Well here are five thousand more nuts buried in your snow blower!"

This year I am attempting to grow Shagbark Hickory (again).

                                                           American  Chestnut (hybrid?)

                                          

                                                               Horse Chestnut

    

                                                                    Shagbark Hickory

    

                                                                      Black Walnut

    

                                                                    Red Oak

                                                                       Black Oak

                        A Common gray squirrel peers down on me planning its revenge!

Sadly, this year I missed finding the Beechnuts and Butternuts before the squirrels, bear, deer and birds got to them. The American Filberts (Hazelnut) that I planted last Autumn are still too young to produce nuts. That leaves the White Oak which I am certain to find on the forest floor before winter snows cover them. For someone who is allergic to tree nuts, I'll admit that it is a strange hobby to be collecting nuts and planting nut trees; but our wildlife depend on Autumn nuts to survive our Vernon Winters. -Norma Manning                                                                   

    

                                                                       

There Are Witches In The Air

There are witches in the air! 

Okay, okay, halt the presses or as we used to say growing up in the 70's, hold the phone. I have known several witches over my years and never have they once mentioned flying on anything but an airplane. I knew a person who used to live right here in Vernon who was at the time exploring Witchery, studied very hard and eventually was accepted into an intensive program to become a Witch. They had nothing in common with the storybook or Halloween characters of our childhood. In reality, the Witches that I have known are attractive, intelligent, and caring individuals. I mean no offense to them with my writings here as I refer to the spooky October, candy seeking, holiday variety and of course trees. 

When I finally (sort of) got on track to study my chosen field in the College of Natural Resources, by attempting to slip in the back door through the College of Agriculture; and right before I found myself in the College of Education, I enrolled in Dendrology which as it turned out was entirely in Latin. It wasn't long before I made the enlightened decision to transfer to a less rigorous tree identification course that paired scientific tree names with English. It was through this process that I discovered that often times in life, there are things that we are told that we must know but soon forget; and there are things that we come into unintentionally but gives us a lifetime of enjoyment. 

Robinia Pseduoacacia, Black Locust, Witch's Tree, two out of the three I didn't have to look up and double (okay triple) check the spelling. To my defense, spell check still thinks that I have it wrong. Let's put this into dog lover's terms. When I was a kid there was a dog breed named Brittany Spaniel. To many a dog lover's dismay, in the 80's Spaniel was dropped from their name because in reality, the Brittany isn't a spaniel at all. Don't even get me started on Fisher Cat versus Fisher! 

The language of science is important because it keeps things straight where common names sometimes have little to do with the actual tree, dog or weasel. I know, I know, Brittany is hardly Latin and a lot of scientific discoveries are named by those that found them or where they are found. It's never as clear cut as we would like; but dang it, Pluto (for my generation) is still a planet! Believe me or not, there are specialists whose job it is to keep track of these things and correct what belongs with what and what they should be called. I don't think that "Witch's Tree" would make the cut. 

There we were, a small group of students in the urban setting of Burlington, notepads and pencils in hand hanging on the words of our professor, "The branches in the crown are bent and twisted like a Witch..." and so it remains still, that Black Locust and Witch's Tree are welded together in my mind. 

The bark is gray to dark brown with deep, irregular and intersecting grooves. Witch's Tree has sharp pointed thorns on it's branches, it's seeds are in a pod and are dark orange to brown in color with an irregular pattern.  With the exception of  its seedpods and flowers, it's entirely poisonous to animals and humans (but not used in potions).  The Black Locust's leaves are  compound, alternate, and have up to twenty oval leaflets. Leaves typically drop by the end of October creating a spooky silhouette against the bright moon for trick-or-treaters. In the landscape, the tree trunk is thick, straight, dark and tall with a crown made up of contorted branches that quickly regenerate if damaged. It can grow even on the poorest sites. It is monoecious / hermaphrodite; but doesn't solely depend on pollination to propagate. Saplings grow up from the roots of other trees resulting in thick groves if left unchecked. Though native to the US it is considered to be invasive in VT. This Locust is typically riddled with conk and  pests that leave them a bit unsightly and weakened, but not dead. It's best to wear (fast?) sturdy shoes in the presence of the Black Locust.

Like in all good children's stories, even the Witch has redeeming qualities and it is no different for the Black Locust. When we lived in the south we were taken with a local tree called Musclewood. Musclewood, not to be confused with Ironwood (Hophornbeam); but is also known as Blue-beech, American Hornbeam or Carpinus Caroliniana was well regarded for it's small size, aesthetic value and dense wood. Everyone seemed to have planted one behind their wrought iron fences and pointed to them with some measure of pride. Though a favored tree, Musclewood has comparatively fewer practical uses than the Black Locust.

Here's the thing, while Musclewood's Janka reading is 1860, Black Locust comes in at a respectable 1700; but unlike Musclewood, it has a thick, tall, straight and rot resistant trunk. This came to be of big importance in colonial times and in the war of 1812. American Colonists were introduced to Black Locust by Indigenous people who used it's wood to make their bows and tools. It is thought that the tree was first introduced outside of its native range by Indigenous people who cultivated the locust for these purposes; but it has since naturalized throughout the US. Colonists built their homes on top of locust posts because they were rot resistant and strong. They also used the tree for fence posts for the same reasons.  Our ships that patrolled Lake Champlain in 1814 had nails and masts made from Black Locust. The Locust nails were not only stronger than the British oak nails, but the locust nails expanded when wet, making our ships watertight. The British ships fell apart when hit with cannon balls while ours withstood the impact. 

Black Locust is used for railroad ties, flooring, furniture and veneer. It is happy on all kinds of sites, it is a nitrogen fixer, grows quickly and prevents soil erosion. But in my estimation, the best thing about this good Witch Tree, is that its blossoms are sweetly fragrant, adored by bees and infinitely more showy than the American Hornbeam's or oak's. 

So as the end of October nears, keep in mind that not all Witches will be knocking at your door in search of tricks or treats. Many Witches will be reaching up all over Vernon into the frosty night air, waiting to be identified by you and me -Norma Manning

Resources:

Yale Nature Walk, Black Locust

Black Locust: The Tree on Which The US Was Built, Live Science

Sacred Tree Profile: Black Locust, The Druid's Garden

Locust Trees, OK Gardening Classics

Black Locust, The Middlebury Landscape