I placed Mine on Conservation

 

After we left the Navy, and though Wayne had been a resident of Vermont for his entire life, we purchased our first home in NH as the lender wouldn't extend to us enough money to afford a home on the VT side of the river. We asked the realtor to find us a home with more land and less house and he found us a former hunting camp, turned year round house which frankly was ready to be torn down.  I had an immediate love affair with our little white and grey camp house that sat on just short of two acres of land and a whole lot of sand. 

It was a level parcel with a front yard full of stumps and each stump had a tire painted white on top of it. The backyard had more stumps, dilapidated sheds (one for parties), old car parts and the most beautiful American Beech tree I have ever seen.  The driveway was lined with massive Eastern White Pines that every year covered our roofs and the ground with a thick bed of needles.  The side lot was made up of Eastern Hemlock, oak, more pine trees and birch. Oh and there was some debate as to whether or not  our single car garage had been built over the property line of our neighbors 75 acers of mature woods. But a local builder who had once done some work on the neighbors house assured us that he had witnessed an agreement between the two parties that moved the property line less than a foot to the south in order to make the garage fully within our property. 

This is where Wayne and I went on to have three more children. Wayne went to work at VY and in his spare time, with he help of neighbors and family, he rebuilt our phoenix from the sill plate to the shingled roof. 

After many good years of building a life there, our neighbors put their house and property up for sale. Had I been smart about it, I would have asked to buy the lot to the side of our garage; but the thought hadn't crossed my mind as we had never had an issue and we couldn't even see their house from ours. New owners moved in and all seemed peaceful. 

One day a friend asked me if I had heard that my new neighbors had been approved to build a firewood operation. As abutters, I was surprised that the town hadn't officially notified us of the application and approval of the project. At first, I thought with 75 acres, it wasn't going to be much of an issue; but then other residents on the road began talking about the scale of the operation, logging trucks, dump trucks, buildings, a mill, and an access road. Finally one friend woke me up saying that this landowner planned on trucking logs into the operation which was to be built directly behind our house! The new owners apparently wanted to build their business the furthest they could from their own house. 

We inquired with the town and Wayne had a conversation with the neighbor about our area being zoned rural agricultural that ended with our neighbor threatening Wayne with a pig farm. Wayne said to him, "I don't believe that you are a pig farmer." To which he rebutted that our children would not be invited to his grandchild's birthday party and that our garage was on his property. 

Ironically, while living in Vernon years later, I won a piglet at the Winchester Pickle Festival which we raised and later gave to our nephew who owns a farm. 

I am going into great detail about this to help others understand the lengths to which neighbors will go to settle a disagreement and how having rules in place can settle an issue. We appealed to the town, who said that their hands were tied. That inquiry resulted in our neighbors clear cutting the massive pines all along our shared property lines. This caused our home to shake so violently that I thought it would come clear off of its foundation. I called the town which fined him a prescribed amount for logging without a permit. I should note that it was within his right to cut every other tree on the property line with a permit.

Having received his message loud and clear, I phoned a friend who was familiar with the ins and outs of municipal governing and they suggested that I write a letter to the NH State Attorney General's office. I received a call in short order and was told the following. When a municipality doesn't have zoning in place to address an issue, it defers to state regulations. That in of itself is a pretty powerful tool, but we were covered by zoning and the town had approved the project. The AG continued by informing me that under the state definition of rural agricultural zoning, a farm must produce more product than it processes. They notified the town that our neighbor's proposed business did not fall within the parameters of  the designated zoning. The town quickly rescinded its approval. 

At this juncture you are probably scratching your heads. Why I would tell a story about Hinsdale, NH?  Allow me to explain; many here in Vernon say that we have no zoning in town and so residents and land owners are free to do on their property as they wish. This is true to an extent, but I would argue that we do have a form of zoning in place. Perhaps the word zoning doesn't exactly apply; but please permit me some leniency on the topic. Vernon has a Farmland Conservation Commission and so we have land that will in the foreseeable future, remain as farmland. The Current Use Program is also in play for forested land. These programs limit development on conserved parcels.

We  have S2 (and a proposed S1) wetlands which carry with that state designation, restrictions on those wetlands including (among other things), a fifty foot buffer around them. Add to this species of concern and we might need an expert to explain all of the rules pertaining to working around them.

Our town is host to the Roaring Brook Wildlife Management area, a state owned wildlife management area that also has specific permitted uses and restrictions. This is in addition to the Fish and Wildlife owned and managed Hatchery Pond and our Municipal Town Forest, each with their own set of specific rules.

"Vermont law declares that lakes and ponds of the state and the lands lying beneath them are held in public trust for the benefit of all Vermonters."*  The Public Trust Doctrine further includes brooks, rivers and ground water. 

As any would be developer knows, The Natural Resource Board in Vermont oversees Act 250 permitting,  "reviewing and managing the environmental, social and fiscal consequences of major subdivisions and developments in Vermont"**

I only have a tea party knowledge of state zoning and other land use regulations in Vermont. Most of what I understand comes from personal interest in specific aspects of these rules. For example, after moving into Vernon and converting our dining room into a fourth bedroom, the state removed the burden of septic tank and leach field regulations from individual municipalities and now regulates all such systems in the state. If we ever were to replace our system, we would be required to upgrade to a four bedroom system or remove our fourth bedroom. Septic system approval (or not) limits land use.

I hope that I haven't lost you yet because here comes the big finale!

Vernon recently created a designated town center for which they consulted experts and residents to help with planning what the center might encompass in the future. Currently it includes farmland, municipal property, our school, businesses and private homes. Adjacent to this center is the Governor Hunt House recently acquired after considerable strategic planning by the volunteer group, Friends of Vernon Center. The house formerly affiliated with the Vermont Yankee site and gifted to this non-profit group, will become our community center. Grants were applied for and awarded for these projects and those accepting the grants must adhere to their stated use. 

Vernon has a selectboard appointed Planning Commission which is charged every eight years with producing the Vernon Town Plan . The next plan is due in 2026. It states right in the introduction that the plan is in part, "...designed to chart a course for development that will benefit future generations..."* 

I recently attended by public invitation, a strategic planning event hosted by the Planning Commission and held at the Vernon rec for the purposes of gaining insight from the public regarding the former Vermont Yankee site.  Most of the small group in attendance were officially involved with town business in one capacity or another. A few of us were just plain old residents. (The ball game across the street however was packed with spectators!) After a thorough presentation, we were given a sheet of stickers so that we could place a sticker on each of the ideas we thought should be pursued in the event that the town obtains the site in approximately six years. Two of the dots provided were a different color than the others and were to be placed on what we thought to be most important.

 I placed my two dots on Conservation & Abenaki. Why? Because aside from valuing conservation, I know that state and federal incentives exist for projects that include these sorts of things in their plans. Low income housing and solar fields also are incentivized and those were choices too. Of course it is possible that the town may choose to set up a Tax Increment Finance District (bonds) instead of pursuing grants, or it may choose to pass altogether on inserting itself into the future of the site.

People who serve on committees, show up to meetings and those who vote, are the ones who help to make decisions. Ordinances, rules and laws are in place because those who showed up, successfully negotiated to put them in place. 

Recently a resident expressed what I have heard from many over the years, they wish that Vernon had remained as a part of Hinsdale. They view NH as having more liberties than Vernon does. Because of my response, "you have options" may have on the surface seemed curt to others, I thought that I would dedicate today's blog to explaining myself. -Norma Manning

 Existing Land Use Town of Vernon VT, May 2018 

*Town Plan Vernon Vermont

**Natural Resources Board, Act 250 Program

And It Lives In The Connecticut River

 Working in kindergarten, my days are filled with gobs of imaginary play with all things princess, unicorns, friends and ballerinas. It's a lovely magical world where favorite colors range from purple to pink, to rainbow and every story involve ponies, kittens and puppies. Trust me when I say, we ran out of glittery stickers months ago.

It's also a world where my days are filled with sharks, snakes (so many snakes), dinosaurs, hot lava and space travel emergencies. It's a lovely adventurous world where favorite colors include orange. Every story involves wolves, spiders, chickens and Megalodons. Trust me when I say that my job description includes, "must be able to morph into a zombie upon request."

I get it, I really do. I spent years swimming with my toes curled up after watching the 1975 film JAWS; but I'm going to ask my readers to open up their minds to exploration much in the same way that a kindergartner does. I implore you to indulge yourself with curiosity and ignore your learned revulsion for the creepy, the mega and the crawly. 

Wayne and I spent time at the Vernon Dam fish ladder watching for fish thru the two rectangle cutouts in the cement bunker-like viewing area. Our first customer attached itself to the smooth glass, defying the rushing water's attempt to sweep it away. When it detached from the glass, it's face reminded me every bit of someone who forgot to put their teeth in. However, with its disk shaped mouth attached to glass or not, it still sported five circular rows of fish grabbing hooks. Let me tell you, those hooks appeared to get progressively bigger the longer I stared at them! In the center there were three serrated teeth which I later learned are attached to a "tongue-like cartilligous rod"  These teeth scrape the fish gaining access to its bodily fluids upon which it feeds. Did I mention that it also had a cute flowing mustache all around the outside of its mouth? Try to think about it like (albeit fleshy) whiskers on a kitten helping the sweet little kitten to feel it's way around. Oh, and they are also for helping its jawless mouth to suction onto fish and flat surfaces. 

How are we doing with that childlike curiosity? Would it be helpful if I told you that adult Sea Lampreys begin to loose their hooks and don't eat while in the Connecticut River?  They are here for only a short while, living off of their fat reserves on their way to tributaries to spawn. Once they lay their eggs in a shallow gravel nest, they perish. Lamprey larvae live in the river for as many as ten years as they casually make their way to the ocean. "These larvae burrow into the mud filtering out algae, small organisms and waste as food"  I suppose that I should have lead with this information. 

Two enchanting fish eyes, one on either side

 plus two parietal eyes that detect polarized light 

Seven gill slits on each side

Water pumping both in and out through the gill slits, allowing lamprey to remain attached and still take in water 

A poor swimmer with two dorsal fins and no pectoral fins.

The second dorsal merges with their anal fin. 

A boneless ancient fish

Living and feeding as adults in the Atlantic Ocean for two years

Returning to the river in late May and early June. Bringing within them, valuable trace elements from the ocean and depositing them into the river 

Making their way into brooks in which they spawn.  In death becoming food for mammals, insects and other fish,

A chance to glimpse 340 million years into the past.

as they climb up the Vernon fish ladder 

Suctioning themselves to one flat surface after another, never to return.

Sea Lamprey, a story older than the dinosaurs.  A story where our  native anadromous fish hero is mistaken for a related lake dwelling invader who makes fishermen squeamish. Persecuted by man due to an ugly face and imagined to be a snake, Sea Lamprey face threats by polluters, loss of tributaries and dams. Consumed by man and all manner of creature, our hero spends the entirety of its time in its river home functioning to the benefit of the river's ecosystem. Oh if only Sea Lamprey had glittery rainbow mermaid scales covering its long flowing body as it swam in the magical world of the Connecticut River!  - Norma Manning

Addendum: A reader questioned if there are any other migratory / anadromous fish in the Connecticut River besides the Sea Lamprey. What a great question! Shad, Salmon, Blueback Herring and Alewives are all anadromous fish found in the Connecticut River. I found this information on the Connecticut River Conservancy site.  This site states that we also host a catadromous fish the American Eel which is born in the ocean, matures in rivers and estuaries and then returns to the ocean to spawn and die.  

Resources and Further Reading:

1) Slideshare, External Anatomy of a Lamprey- Class Agnatha

2) Biodiversity, Labratory2: Fishes and Amphibians, The Jawless Fishes

3) Connecticut River Conservancy, Sea Lamprey: The Ancient Fish

4) Quizlet, Sea Lamprey

5) Canadian Rivers Institute, Sea Lamprey, Petromyzon Marinus

6) Connecticut DOE and Environmental Protection, Sea Lamprey (Petromyzon Marinus)- Anadromous

7) NIH National Library of Medicine, Feeding and Breathing in Lampreys

8) Wikipedia, Lamprey 

What The Hay?

 It all begins innocently enough, the stuff that fairy tails are made of really.  Birds take wing to the rolling hills of Vermont in hopes of finding that perfect match by calling out, "Cheerily, cheer up, Cheerily, cheer up" loosely translated as I am here my love, be happy! They become lovebirds if you will, and together they feather their nest in which to raise a brood or three. Young children everywhere are lifted up by adults so that they may peer in with wide eyes to count a clutch of Robin blue eggs and witness first hand the miracle of the birds and the bees - sigh.

I used to hand write an annual letter in the spring to Wayne's Gram Thelma, first from Florida and then from South Carolina in order to announce to her that the Robins had begun to make their way up to Bellows Falls.  After Gram's passing, a few of these letters were returned to me, reminding me of the hope that the first robin's of spring bring to all generations- double sigh. 

And so it was with eternal optimism that I requested of Wayne that he install our brand new outdoor carpet into our newly renovated gazebo. Wayne and I accomplished two big projects last summer, one was to scrub and paint our deck and the other was to scrape, prime, paint and finally put a new roof on the gazebo. Unbeknownst to me, one woman's gazebo is another's birdhouse. 

At first I assumed it was an innocent miscalculation and with a little redirection things would work out.

I removed the strands from the gazebo, thinking that the Robins would get the hint and move to the nearby tree. This only resulted in them becoming more determined.

Not to worry, they only thought that I meant move it over to above the door. I gave them a little more encouragement and they returned the favor in kind.

Wayne called from the road as I was drilling a pilot hole in a ceiling beam to install a hook. Though I had him on speaker, I was much too flustered to carry on a conversation about my plan of action. I retrieved my colander from the shed that I use to wash garden vegetables before bringing them into the house to wash again. I hung it from the hook and stuffed it with the grass I had gathered from the...well everywhere.

They began to bring in what appeared to be shredded lawn furniture, produce nets and strands of tarp. I'm not sure where they found them, but they even brought in cassette tape! The worst of it however, was when they deposited beak full after beak full of mud on the railings which promptly cemented onto and removed some of the fresh paint. 

Clearly an eviction notice was in order and as any observer can plainly see, these birds had options. Even so, I lugged out the old wood step ladder, placed the colander in the tree and filled it with their treasures. 

At last a compromise was struck, and all that I needed to do was sacrifice my rose bush.

Well this went on for some time and to the point that I thought that the poor creatures would die of nest building exhaustion. I waffled between wanting to remove their haystack, sympathy, and being curious about how all of this would end.

It was about this stage in nesting, when my daughter Helen dropped in to surprise me on Mother's day. Now Helen works in shore and seabird conservation and so I frequently use her as a resource for posts about birds. It was when Helen informed me that she had "never seen anything like it", took a picture and remarked, "It doesn't even have a nest cup yet" that I finally understood the breadth of revenge exacted by these angry birds. If revenge wasn't the reason for this Picasso in progress, than I honestly didn't know what the hay was going on here!

Hay is right, for while these birdbrains were still gleefully building, I came upon this broken robin's egg with a partially developed chick inside (sensibly) beneath a Horse Chestnut tree. While I took several pictures of the eggs contents, I won't post those here.

The discovery of the spoiled egg, was soon followed by the most beautiful pictures of perfectly rounded and cupped nests with bright blue eggs inside of them as posted by joyful birders on the Vernon VT Facebook group page. When the chicks arrived one by one, I cringed and graciously issued heart emojis to each and every one of those pictures. Tick tock, clearly either the rosebush robins or myself had been driven cuckoo! 

Fearing the former, I went in search of more traditional feathered friends and noticed a pair of Eastern Phoebes perching near our woodshed and making frequent flights into it. You can imagine my elation at discovering a perfectly dainty and cupped nest made from moss and mud in the rafters!

The Phoebe nest, being such a conforming and beautiful nest, I reasoned that I could blindly snap a picture and of course I could expect perfect results worthy of posting in the Vernon Facebook group.

"Helen, do you think it would be okay if I removed the cowbird eggs from the phoebe's nest?"  I argued my case to no avail when she informed me that Cowbirds are native birds and it would against the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. 

Brown Headed Cowbirds are brood parasites. They go around sneaking their speckled eggs into other birds nests, sometimes destroying or removing eggs already in the nest. Because they don't have to build nests or care for growing chicks, they can spend their free time laying more eggs. The rightful owners of the nest must feed (in this nest) two additional chicks which hatch sooner than their own chicks do. The poor nestmates must then compete for food with the much larger, faster growing cowbird chicks.* So much for perfect.

As I write this blog, the robin's nest measures in at 18x15x20 with no end to construction in sight.  So while my neighbors share chick pics, I arguably host the largest birdhouse in town. I already have a plan for next spring's nesting season. I'm going to locate the gazebo screens that I had Wayne take down when we first moved in and have him reinstall them (sigh). 

Oh, and to answer that age old question, "Is nest building innate or learned?" Even though I posted further reading arguing both sides, based on the mess in my gazebo, I'm guessing that the answer is learned. - Norma Manning

Further reading:

* The Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Brown Headed Cowbird

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology, American Robin Range Map

Journey North, Robin Life Cycle

Journey North, How to Build a Robin's Nest

Psychology Today, How Birds Nest

Audubon, The Migratory Bird Treaty Act Explained

Sundays are for Fishing

 Where do you want to go fishing? "Any place in Vermont" was my reply, and that's how we ended up walking down Jacks Brook with fishing gear in tow. One minute I was putting worms in the back of the Jeep and five minutes later I was taking them back out again. To people who know the area well we must have seemed somewhat peculiar unloading our gear on the side of the road. Jacks Brook flows under 142 through a small culvert between Tyler Hill rd and a cemetery on its way to the river. What we found picking our way through that muddy narrow ravine, reminded me that Vernon is just as good a place to adventure as "anyplace" Vermont.

I'll show you more of Jacks Brook later because that's when I once again tested my bone density. On a trail for the first time, nothing ever goes exactly as expected, and to our dismay we found that at the opposite end of Jacks Brook is a second culvert and a steep climb. It seems that both Wayne and I had forgotten about the train tracks that separated us from our destination. It's an unwritten rule of the woods to pretend that these sorts of things are entirely planned. I suppose this is exactly why Wayne and I typically spend the end of the day discussing exactly where it all went wrong. 

I don't know how it is that Wayne always gets so far ahead of me! 

Well it looks like Wayne in his hurry to get up there, missed this little gem.

 Where did Wayne go?

This tree was fun climbing over with fishing gear in hand.

Things started to look familiar at the top.

Clearly our journey on Jacks Brook had come to an end as there wasn't a chance that I was attempting the bank on the other side of the tracks. Oh I promise you, the brook is down there somewhere in this picture.

A change in plans had us walking up the tracks to Miller's Cove which is a perfect spot on a perfect day to do a little fishing. The thing about being adults with no children at home is that we get to decide when the weekend chores and errands are finished. The difficult thing about being an adult with no children at home is wishing that we had spent more time fishing with them instead of doing chores and errands. We were welcomed by a beautiful family of Canada geese and later by a wary beaver.

Do you see that dark spot in the clouds? I hadn't noticed it until posting it. I wondered if I had gotten dirt on my lens, but it only shows up on the next two photos. 

I don't have the patience to repair equipment, but Wayne doesn't seem to mind. The last time we went fishing below the dam, he pulled in another fisherman's line and gained a lure in the bargain. A few casts later and the river claimed his favorite lure. It's a good thing that Father's Day isn't too far off.

There are a lot of fishermen who have spent years honing their skills. My brother Doug has ten poles and a bass boat. My brother Charles won a tournament on Lake Champlain with a 12lb Bowfin. I prefer to use a bobber and worms when I fish, it reminds me of my childhood days fishing on Lake Champlain with my grandmother's bamboo pole and no reel. I once caught a Freshwater Drum on one of those poles, mostly I caught Rock Bass, Pumpkinseed and Yellow Perch. Wayne likes lures and today he chose a froglike surface lure. I can't help but think about a time when we tied a fishing line with a bobber and worm on it to the dock ladder for our daughter Kayden who then caught a really big bass. I still have Helen's list of all the fish she caught as a kid. I couldn't tell you about the biggest fish I ever caught or how many, but these stories I remember. 

Several boaters traced the bank with rods casting under the trees. I had my eye on a weedy patch on the opposite side of the landing where Jacks Brook's and the river's current merged but Wayne had already claimed it while I was texting pictures to the kids.

I found my opportunity to move into Wayne's spot by way of invitation from the residents there. 

Canada geese in Millers Cove

By the looks of it's mouth, this Perch had been caught more than a couple of times, I tossed it back in after Wayne took our picture. 

Rain clouds had been playing cat and mouse with us since we arrived and it appeared that our luck was starting to run out. With wet shirts and gear, we decided that it was time to head out.

Wayne thought that it would be a good idea to cut through the cemetery and avoid that steep bank again. I wasn't about to be caught walking through a cemetery with fishing gear, so once again I convinced Wayne to take the wrong trail. On the way up the bank, it had given way under our feet and so Wayne warned me to be cautious on the way down. I was navigating fairly well with a large stick that I had found to be my third foot. I even informed Wayne that I would be the first to go down the steepest part near the bottom and then hand up my stick to him.  I clearly remember standing on riprap purposefully positioning my stick and then three days later informing my Physical Therapist that I had taken another fall on the trail.

 

At first I could actually see myself starting to fall, then the most dreadful thought crossed my mind! Wayne's phone was in my pocket and Jacks Brook was directly below me. When I hit, I hit hard; but I had lost Wayne's phone to the river before and I wasn't going to have that happen again. I heard Wayne yell, "Norma are you alright!" My back, my ribs, my shoulder my arm, my stomach, my hip, just about everything had hit the rocks and I was lying in the brook attempting to push myself up. No, I wasn't alright but got to my feet and fished through my soaked pockets looking for his phone. 

My Physical Therapist questioned me again on why I thought I had taken so many falls in the past year ( I was seeing her for a torn bicep from our canoeing incident). Wayne informs me that my center of gravity has shifted with age. Gravity must be the answer. 

Aside from being a poor choice for those interested in fishing, Jacks Brook is an interesting place visited by deer as evidenced by numerous tracks along the brook. There is also an abundance of interesting plants like the Jack In The Pulpit posted earlier, ferns and this plant that I don't know the identity of yet.

Water in VT is a public trust and people are within their rights to be within the low water marks. Jacks Brook is not posted private land, though there is a house being built above the brook. Wayne and I did our best to stick close to the waterway. 

 

It's almost a week after that I am writing this blog, tomorrow is Sunday. I'm still very sore from last weeks expedition and Wayne's phone is intact. I also survived the embarrassment of emerging from Jacks Brook soaking wet, carrying fishing gear and knowing once again that Wayne's trail pick would have been the better bet.  In the end, I highly recommend casting a line at Miller's Cove on a Sunday with your family and I recommend visiting Jacks Brook; but perhaps make it two separate adventures.  Oh, and one more thing Martin, do you suppose Jacks Brook is named for the plant found there? -Norma Manning

 Full text of,  A history of the town of Northfield, MA (1875) in which Jack's Brook is identified under Introduction 9.