A Day in the Life of John Shane, A.K.A. Tree ID!

Being a forester, there is really nothing I like more than tree ID.  Over the summer, before I even had any semblance of tree knowledge, I would often sit down in my off time (I was living in the woods) and look around, trying to identify the trees around me.  I got pretty good at identifying 15 or 16 trees, an accomplishment I was very proud of until I found out I needed to know 160 for John Shane's dendrology class (which I still haven't taken, but I am very excited to).  However, for now, I just need to know those 15 or 16 and can usually ask one of my friends that has taken dendro to identify the trees for me — which is how I identified the majority of the trees for this assignment!

If it wasn't for my friend, I would have only been able to identify the staghorn sumac (Rhus typhina) and the ash (Fraxinus pennsylvanica); thanks to her help, I was also able to identify balsam poplar (Populus balsamifera), american elm (Ulmus americana), and quaking aspen (Populus tremuloides).

These trees were not actually at my place.  If you look at my post from last week, there is one little shrub by the rock that I call the center of my place, but besides that, there is really no flora.  I had to go back maybe another 5 meters to find the sumac and an additional 5-10 meters to find the rest of the trees.  Doing some quick research on these trees shows just why they love my Place.  Most of them love moist soils and don't really seem to care what the sunshine is like, but for the most part aren't so shade-tolerant (which perhaps explains one reason for occupying a sunny rivebank). One thing that did surprise me is that F. pennsylvanica prefers deep soils.  I thought most of my Place was substantially bare rock (hence I had to go away from the center of my place to find trees!) but if F. pennsylvanica prefers deep soils, perhaps I will get too see some interesting soils after mud season.  Also, just a fun aside: P. balsamifera is the northernmost American hardwood (http://www.na.fs.fed.us/pubs/silvics_manual/volume_2/populus/balsamifera.htm) and is extremely prevalent in my Place.

Happy tree identifying, everyone!

It's a MAP!

I hope you appreciate the subtle Admiral Ackbar quote in the title — don't worry, this blog posting isn't a trap, IT'S A MAP!

Not much to say for this week except that I sure am glad I went out!  It's absolutely gorgeous out there; a bit cold, no doubt, but gorgeous!  I don't know if any of you have noticed the picture at the bottom of the blog, but it has been changing every week and I will be assembling a time-lapse at the end of the project that will show the whole of Salmon Hole as it changed through the seasons.  I bring it up because today is the first great panorama I have had where the skies are bluer than any skies I have seen in a while!

I also noticed today that my spot is right next to Brian's spot so I sure hope you don't get tired of seeing the same pictures all the time!

As for the map you see here, there are a couple things you should know.  I couldn't find a compass (and the one on my watch was being distorted) so, luckily, my trip was right at noon and I don't know what the rule is for anywhere else or any other time, but I know that in the winter in the northern hemisphere (especially in the north of the northern hemisphere), you can find north by simply pointing your eyes in the opposite direction of the sun at noon.  So, needless to say, my map is based on a very rough true north and may be slightly off from exact true north and I can assure you it is way off from magnetic north.  Also, I decided to throw in some topographic lines to help you visualize the topography of the landscape a little better.


Enjoy the weather out there!

Patterns

Having walked around my Place a good amount, I decided to bring my lunch out with me this time around and see what patters showed up as I chowed down on the big rock that juts out into the river.  Just sitting down to lunch, I already noticed one pattern: the pattern of layering on the rocks; and as the day wore on, I started noticing that layers played a key part in the patterns I observed.

Layers in the rocks — can any geologists tell me about the history of
Salmon Hole just by looking at the patterns in the rock?

The next observation on patterns that I found was in the tracks of a little bird.  I don't know what kind of bird this is, but it sure liked to walk around on the snow and just wander around seemingly without purpose.

A bit tough to see, but this bird wasn't sure where to go!

Finally, patterns in water were observations I made that consumed most of the day.  I found patterns in three different types of water (liquid water, ice, and snow), which, in itself seems like a pattern.  Almost as noticeably as with the rock, all three phases of water showed layering:

Ice

Like week-old fossils, different layers of ice show recent warm and cold spells

Snow

You can see how much snow accumulated during different storms; the ice
and snow layers seem to act a lot like very recent tree rings

Liquid Water

From tranquil pools straight into rapids, even liquid water has layers

When I noticed that the liquid water was in layers just like the ice and snow, I realized that layers and patterns are really everywhere — never before had I thought that a mobile medium like water in a river could have layers!  This next picture shows four of the five patterns I have described, all interacting together.  Liquid water, snow, ice, and rock formations all have layers and patterns that interact and support biotic patterns (like the animal patterns I noted before and the tree rings I briefly mentioned in one of the captions):

If you weren't lucky enough to observe some patterns in your world today, maybe a box of chocolates could have the patterns you are looking for.  Happy Valentine's Day.

It's a heart, right?

The Beginning of an Adventure

To start off on this Honors College adventure, I decided to interact with one of my favorite places in Burlington: Salmon Hole.  I believe it is called Salmon Hole because it used to (and may still) have a Salmon Run and it is basically a hole of nature in a doughnut of industrialization.  As you can see from these first couple maps I have posted, Salmon Hole is actually right on the Winooski River in a part of Burlington where the town of Winooski is right across the water.

The Salmon Hole area in 1999

...and in 2004

The first image there was taken by the great folks at Google in 1999; the second picture in 2004.  Even in only five years, you can see how the Burlington island (on the left of the peninsula — remember what I am calling all these features, I will be talking about them throughout the semester!) has changed.  We can see that the water level was not what really changed the ecosystem on the island because where there was a sand bar by the Winooski island (on the left, above the blue border line) in 1999, it is now underwater in 2004 whereas the Burlington island has lost many of its trees and has itself developed a sand bar just to the right of where the last trees remain.  These two pictures are clearly either spring or summer pictures, so I can analyze this for myself later in the semester.  For now, let's look at some pictures of things I saw when I went there on February 7th!

The Whole of Salmon Hole

As I sauntered down to Salmon Hole, I decided to take a stroll through Centennial Woods, in order to not only enjoy my sense of place in my Place but to also enjoy the process that got me to my place.  While meandering meaningfully, I thought about things like the processes that develop everyday in the natural ecosystems through which I walked and drew parallels to my own process of developing my walk and developing my Place.  Chunks of snow fell regularly off the trees — if it wasn't for me, no human would ever see the randomness in the falling snow chunks; would I have similar moments while being in my Place?  Would I be the only one, for example, to see a little songbird attacking a red-tailed hawk, just as I saw when I got to my Place?...

It's tough to see, but there is a little bird just to the left of the larger hawk 

I guess now is as good a time as any to launch in to talking about my Place.  My Place is a beautiful Place.  You walk down a road and dive in to some trees, down a steep slope, and emerge out of the woods into a beautiful view of snow, water, and ice.  The beautiful thing about this Place is that although it is right on the border of two large towns (Burlington and Winooski), the first thing you notice is in fact the natural aspect of the Place, and then you slowly start to pick out the manmade features.  Even though the river is semi-frozen, you can still hear her rushing over the rocks and carving through the ice, essentially eliminating the noise created by anything manmade.  

Some ice hovering precariously over the water that carved it into
this incredible structure

When I first got to Salmon Hole, I wandered around a bit and took lots of pictures of the ice and water, noticing how, in the untouched snow, my eyes went crazy because there were no impurities or changes in texture or color of the snow.  After walking around for a good amount of time, I decided it was time to go and started to trek out just when a red-tailed hawk caught my eye.  He was circling around right above the islands and slowly made his way back to the smokestack (you can see it in the panorama picture).  Just before reaching the smokestack, the little songbird came out and started annoying the tail feathers out of this hawk!  Some time later, the two birds zoomed right past the smokestack and caused a flock of even smaller birds to take off and surround the two bigger birds in a cloud of feathered confusion...

A medley of beautiful creatures — any ornithologist's dream

But wait! The excitement isn't over yet!  As the flock of feathers disappeared into the clouds, I sighed merrily and carried on my way.  Out of the open coast and into the woods I went, just as a flash of brown caught my eye.  At first I thought it was a waxwing, but then a red lightening bolt shot straight in and I realized I was watching two lovely cardinals dance in the snow.  Here is a picture of the male (I couldn't get my camera out in time to catch a good picture of the female — she blended right in with the trees): 

In the end, it was all more than a beginning — not just a beginning, a middle, and an end, but a process that brought me from the beginning to the end.  

And don't worry, this post isn't nearly the end —

It's only just the beginning.