By Michael Dover
As this column goes to press, the long-anticipated Copenhagen climate-change talks are under way. If they succeed, the world will be presented with a treaty to replace the expiring Kyoto Protocol that attempted—and largely failed—to put the brakes on greenhouse gas emissions that cause global warming. But in the run-up to Copenhagen, many world leaders and pundits seemed to agree that success is unlikely, and some have cited lagging public interest in the issue as part of the cause.
By David Spector
Place names often preserve bits of natural history. “Holly wood” and “spring field,” for example, say something about what was found when the names were first given. Others record sad losses. Hills named “Pigeon” and “Chestnut”—which are widespread in the eastern United States—reflect the previous abundance of the passenger pigeon (now extinct) and the American chestnut (now a tiny remnant population). populations of western Massachusetts.
By Robert T. Leverett
In 1600, forests covered at least 85 percent of the Massachusetts landscape, except for areas cleared by Native Americans near the coast and along major stream corridors. White settlement changed all that—gradually at first, but then at an explosive pace until the mid-1800s. From then through the early 1900s, the state was made up of fields, settlements and fairly small woodlots, mostly; just 25 percent of the land was forested. Fortunately, because of increased urbanization and lifestyle changes in the 20th century, the forest has returned. But are today’s forests the same as the woodlands of pre-settlement times?
By Peter Westover
Suppose your family has owned a maple sugar business for five generations or run an apple orchard or struggled to keep a dairy going. Then imagine learning that, within less than a generation, the climate of western Massachusetts will become something like South Carolina’s today. Is that good or bad news for you?
By Elizabeth Farnsworth
When I tell people I live in Royalston, they tend to stare blankly. “Boylston?” they say. Or, “Where’s that, New Hampshire?” And I smile to myself that my town of 1,200 people in north-central Massachusetts is still one of the best- kept secrets in the Commonwealth. But among its many charms, Royalston has three treasures that shouldn’t be hush-hush: the Doane’s, Royalston and Spirit waterfalls.
By Michael Dover
Once in a while, if we’re lucky, something comes along that expands our perception of the world around us. What was once “background” becomes discernible: we add depth and breadth to our experience of our surroundings. This happened to me when I read Reading the Forested Landscape: A Natural History of New England (Countryman Press, Woodstock, Vt.) by Tom Wessels, and later went to a workshop that he led. Wessels, an ecologist at Antioch University New England in Keene, N.H., opened a new dimension—time—to my walks in the woods, helping me see the history of the land and its use by observing what’s there today.
By Rebecca Reid Gazette Contributing Writer A couple of years ago, my husband and I decided to see if we could get all of our food from local sources. We […]
By David Spector
In the fall, yellow goldenrods and pink to violet asters provide a colorful foreground to the changing leaves of trees. Such flowers are examples of fall composites, members of the aster or composite family. (The name “composite” refers to the flower head consisting of numerous small flowers. The scientific name for this family, Asteraceae, indicates their shared similarity to asters.) For a naturalist who wants to put a name on each species, the fall composites also provide a challenge—and sometimes frustration—as the many similar species can be quite difficult to identify.
By Rebecca Reid
In central Vermont in June, the roadsides are lined with little white flowers and feathery green foliage reminiscent of Queen Anne’s lace. To the unsuspecting, it is a pretty Vermont scene. But lurking in those innocent-looking flowers is a plant so fiercely adaptive, so good at what it does, that it’s rapidly spreading over open land wherever it can get a foothold—crowding out native species, and irrevocably changing local ecosystems. It’s doing in Vermont what many of the Pioneer Valley’s imported species (the so-called invasives: bittersweet, purple loosestrife and others) are doing here: taking over.
By Ted Watt
Lots of us have waded into our favorite pond or swimming hole on a warm summer day and seen the green frogs leap out from under our feet at the last moment with a startled squeak. You may have seen how the painted turtles swim quietly into deeper water when people arrive and how the great blue heron fishing in the shallows flies off.
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