By Ted Watt
I love to grow stuff. I’ve been gardening since elementary school. When I grew my first sweet corn in fifth grade, I was so amazed when I went to the garden one day and the corn plants were taller than I was! Since then, I’ve learned a lot about how to keep plants healthy and happy, and have experimented with a wide range of species. In the process, I’ve had successes and a great many failures. With all the recent talk of planting for pollinators, I’ve lately been adopting a perspective in addition to my long interest in promoting diversity.
By David Spector
A story: Many thousands of years ago a bird species nested on cliff ledges from central Asia, across north Africa, to parts of Europe. This bird fed on grassland seeds, often many miles from the cliffs, and could find its way over long distances between feeding grounds and nests. Its population was probably limited by availability of cliffs within reasonable commuting distance of seed-producing open country.
by Lawrence J. Winship
Hundreds of years ago, the flowering bulb markets of Holland were overcome by tulip mania. Buyers bid up highly desired varieties to astronomical prices, paying enormous sums for rarity and flamboyance. Fortunes were made and lost. One of the most sought-after varieties was the Semper Augustus, with striking streaks of white in its red petals — strange, magnificent, and deadly to other tulips.
By John Stinton
Most of us have a rosy image of the earthworm, that aerator of soil without whom our gardens would grievously suffer. Our myths suggest that worms turn infertile soil into fertile compost, fluffy loam. In fact, the opposite is true: The worms are in rich soil because that’s where the compost is. Earthworms eat the nutrients in the compost; they don’t enrich it. Worms eat almost everything in the soil — fungi, invertebrate life, leaves, twigs, algae, moss and microscopic life. In passing soil through their gut from one end to the other, they throw out castings that mark their paths.
By Tom Litwin
As our days get longer and warmer, the wildlife of our fields and woodlands are shaking off the challenges of our New England winters. Not too long ago, nighttime lasted a seemingly interminable 14 hours, with freezing temperatures lasting for days. Ice covered ponds and streams; snow and “wintry mixes” sealed off the ground and animals in their burrows below. The solutions wildlife use for surviving the life-threatening demands of winter are wonderfully diverse and are shaped by two branches on the evolutionary tree: Are they warm- or cold-blooded? Warm-blooded animals generate their own body heat by converting food and body fat to energy. Cold-blooded animals take on the ambient temperature that surrounds them, including freezing temperatures.
By Kari Blood
Kestrel Land Trust recently produced a video designed to inspire people to conserve and care for forests and farms in the Pioneer Valley. In sunlit outdoor scenes, we see teen girls laughing together at the Mount Holyoke summit, a farmer walking his fields, and an older woman with her husband enjoying the picturesque Fort River Trail at the Conte Refuge from her wheelchair. These images resonated with hundreds of the land trust’s followers on Facebook and Instagram. Yet a question from one supporter stood out: Why doesn’t this video reflect more ethnic diversity? Three young Latina girls are in the video, happily scrambling on the rocks at the summit of the Mount Holyoke Range, but all of the other faces are white.
By Christine Hatch
I love the winter landscape. It’s stark, quiet, and reduced to its essence. And fieldwork in winter makes a scientist feel hearty and tough, like an explorer; discovering a known landscape anew. I recently had a chance to experience this as part of a project to restore a natural wetland at the site of a retired cranberry bog. Our job was to map groundwater seepage by measuring surface temperatures throughout the bog. This particular field expedition had to be conducted under very specific conditions that are hard to come by, and this was our third year trying. Ideal conditions for this work are the coldest and clearest of winter days, with no wind or precipitation, and no snow on the ground. We found our window in the first week of February, and headed to a retired cranberry farm in Plymouth in search of groundwater.
By Katie Koerten
Every now and then I experience something that gives me so much hope for what humans can do to address climate change, pollution and environmental degradation. One such thing was a textile exhibit at the Hitchcock Center for the Environment last fall called “Fibershed: From Farm to Fashion Within Fifty Miles.”
By Joshua Rose
Every summer we see more headlines: West Nile Virus, Eastern Equine Encephalitis, Zika and others. Last year was the worst on record for EEE in Massachusetts, killing three people. Some communities spray pesticide from trucks or airplanes to control mosquitoes. Many homeowners pay private companies to spray their yards. Parents slather their children with DEET. A press release from the Centers for Disease Control proclaims “Mosquito Bites: Everyone is at Risk!” How afraid should we be? Do we need to exterminate all mosquitoes for our safety? Spoiler alert: Not very, and no.
By Ted Watt
My partner, Dave, and I are fortunate: We own just under 200 contiguous acres of forest in the hilltowns of western Franklin County. As we explore the land, we’re coming to love it — large white pines on the west slope, stunted black oaks on the ridge, bobcat tracks on top of the higher outcrops, and a couple of small, ecologically rich pockets of wildflowers. We have a lot of deer — two years ago, we found extensive pawing through the first snows in December as they foraged for buried acorns. We’ve visited some seriously roughed-up red pines that the black bears regularly use for signal trees. As we come to know this land better, we also wrestle with what it means to be stewards of forested land these days. We want to do the right thing.
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