WHAT A STEWARD SEES - January 2013

Each cold walk at Somme surprises us with something new. 

In winter we see the ecosystem's bones and learn about essence.

The white area burned last November. Tall orange grasses in the distance were protected by a firebreak. 

The unburned pale in the foreground is a weak community of weeds, without enough fuel to carry fire. 

A few years hence it will look orange and thick, like the rich grassland in the distance.

Snow where the grassy Swale Pond burned reveals a nearly complete circle of dark hummocks, 

built up by ancient tussock sedge plants. In summer, I'd stumbled over them 

in the lush vegetation without realizing that they were in a circle. Now the structure emerges.

All summer 

the Swale Pond looked 

like a field of tall grass. 

But now - burned - 

(and in between snows)

the bottom is strewn 

with the shells of tiny clams 

and many kinds of snails. 

Although still dry, 

the shells now show more clearly 

the pond's true character.

 Damage to hydrologic structure is easier to see in winter as well. When we look at burned Vestal Grove, we notice a ditch dug by farmers who owned this land for the century-long gap between ancient nature and forest preserve. Why dig a ditch in the woods? Probably to improve pasture. These woods supported cows and horses then. To restore nature now, should I take my shovel to that ditch? Natural hydrology can help the ecosystem recover.





 

In winter, rabbits and deer eat a lot of bark. For the deer, that bark is mostly in the form of live twigs ("browse"). For rabbits, it's mostly the bottoms of trees and shrubs, like this indigo bush. Note that four stems are entirely cut off. The other two have little left. This shrub will have to start again next spring with new shoots.

This bur oak was caged to protect it from the deer.

Most parts of the preserve have no bur oak reproduction even though bur oak was the main original tree here and over large areas.

But look down; the deer cage didn't protect this one from the rabbits.

This close-up
shows the rascals' handiwork. A trunk can recover from a little nibbling, but too much will kill it.

Here an oak has had some protection added.

The rabbits won't reach it now.

As with the clam and snail shells, 

the calcium of deer antlers 

survives as reminders
of the once living thing. 

The same animals 

that bite oak trunks have gnawed off the tips - recycling antlers 

to build their own bones and teeth. Calcium supplements. 

Other calcium that you might 

expect to be very fragile 

survives the winter. 

I was surprised 

to come across 

these mallard egg shells, 

left over from the drama 

that was the subject
of "Egg Blog" (May 16, 2012).
They seem so fragile. Their insides are still lined with bits of eggy stuff. Nothing has seen fit
to destroy them
after all these months?

Why a sharp line separating snow and no snow? It's the same line that divided this fall's burn (top right) from "no-burn" (bottom and left). A few inches of snow quickly melted wherever the standing vegetation absorbed the sun's rays and spread heat. Where the snow reflected radiation back to space, less melting (and less global warming).

What we notice of the bones and essence of the ecosystem keeps us thinking. In time it helps us learn how to be good stewards of nature, the planet, and ourselves.