Forest Notes For June

The month of June has certainly whizzed by fast. It seems as if I just barely got the gardens planted and here it is less than two weeks away from the Fourth of July. I’m hoping the tiger lilies will make a showing this year. I have been diligently drowning Scarlet Lily beetles in soapy water (eschewing chemical pesticides) and so far have kept any beetles grubs from devouring the leaves and buds. In spite of the near drought conditions this past spring, enough rain has fallen so many plants are doing well.

The local Water and Light Department went around this past winter cutting back tree branches and shrubbery from the overhead wires. They trimmed back some of the branches on the two Washington Hawthorn trees on the front lawn, which must have been a major undertaking as the trees are gifted with two inch long needle sharp thorns which they aren’t afraid to use. But the trimming didn’t phase the hawthorns as they leafed out well this spring and are now in full blossom. One thing I didn’t discover until the lower branches began producing flowers as well as the upper is that this particular variety of hawthorn has flowers that – well – smell like something died. This hasn’t stopped bees from visiting it as well as the expected flies, wasps and other odd-looking insects. Makes me wonder what the honey might taste like.

Hawthorn tree flowers

Another much less welcome plant has shown up again as well. That would be poison ivy (the plant, not the DC villainess)

Poison Ivy leaves

The photo above shows the leaves at dead center. Most people know the adage; ‘Leaflets three, let it be’. But there’s another rhyme associated with the plant which is less well known. ‘Berries white, take flight!’ The plant has non-descript tiny flowers which produce whitish berries. These are toxic to humans but not to birds who devour them without any hesitation. The seeds in the berry survive the trip through their digestive tracts and get excreted with a nice little packet of bird guano to give them a good start. So if you are wondering how those darn poison ivy vines started growing where none had been before, that’s how. I use long handled clippers for trimming them back as far as I can without risk to myself, not being brave and bold enough to try pulling them up by (gloved) hand.

Within the past few decades, another vine has made its appearance here in northern New Hampshire. Virginia Creeper now grows rampantly along local roadsides often overwhelming other plants. It has occasionally been mistaken for poison-ivy but only by people who can’t count. Poison-ivy has just three leaves, while Virginia Creeper has five.

Virginia Creeper vines

While it is native to North America, it is sometimes classed as an invasive due to its exuberant growth. Because of its handsome dark red color in the fall, people have sometimes planted it as an ornamental only to rue it afterwards.

Virginia Creeper in fall

Given how fast it has spread around the area here over the past few years, it would probably qualify as America’s answer to Kudzu. However while Kudzu is actually edible, Virginia Creeper and its dusty blue berries are to be avoided due to their oxalic acid content which can cause digestive upset and even kidney problems. As with poison-ivy berries, birds are not bothered by this substance and can eat them without worrying about intestinal blowback. Many songbirds relish them and turkeys will eat them as well. With the recent boom in the population of turkeys introduced to this state starting back in the Seventies, their favorites foods have spread along with the birds themselves; Virginia Creeper, grapes, and (gulp) yes, poison ivy.

Although I live in a residential neighborhood in town, a surprising number of animals still share the area with the humans who have overrun it. Bears will trash feeders if available, woodchucks and raccoons will cheerfully raid unprotected gardens and what they don’t get, the deer will polish off. Chipmunks and grey squirrels are ubiquitous along with the occasional red fox. Once several years ago I spotted a bobcat trotting across my lawn early in the morning in a very business-like fashion. Not sure if he was a vagabond or if he actually lived in town. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did as there is enough prey around to support a townie lifestyle. Most of these critters stay carefully out of sight so it’s easy to be startled by how many there actually are. The Covid lockdown last year emptied the streets of humans and as a result a surprising number of critters popped out of the woodwork much to the astonishment of many people.

Each summer presents its own challenges as well as pleasant experiences. It will be interesting to see what July brings to the table. Happy Summer!

White tailed deer

Guest Star

Chinese astrologers

In July of 1054, Chinese astrologers took note of the astonishing appearance of a new star in the sky. Alarmed, they quickly put a positive spin on it as there could be unpleasant consequences for not predicting such a strange event. As star-like objects appearing temporarily were referred to as ‘guest stars’, they documented the appearance of this new ‘guest star’ object as being on July 4th, giving a detailed description and noting its position in the constellation Taurus. According to their reports, so great was its brilliance, it could be seen by day for nearly a month before gradually fading. Accounts indicate it could still be seen in the night sky with the naked eye for two years before disappearing completely from sight.

What the astrologers had no way of suspecting was that the strange manifestation they documented was in fact not a new star but an old one undergoing its final death throes. Often classified today as a Type 2 nova, it involves a star roughly 8 to 15 times as massive as our sun, burning through its fuel to the point it can no longer sustain fusion reactions and undergoes a catastrophic final collapse which burns through the remaining material in a split second producing the awesome explosion such as the one witnessed a millennium ago.

Other ‘guest stars’ were observed over the following centuries but it wasn’t until modern astronomy began taking shape that sky observers began grasping what these strange objects were. In the eighteenth century, a French astronomer named Charles Messier avidly searched for comets after witnessing a spectacular comet, the great six-tailed comet of 1744. However he was greatly irked by comet-like objects or nebulae which he often at first mistook for actual comets, distracting him from his search. He began compiling a list of the various objects and their locations as a way to avoid future confusion. One of the objects he catalogued was a fuzzy diffuse object located in the constellation Taurus which he listed as M1. We know it better today as the Crab Nebula.

Crab Nebula

It wasn’t until the nineteenth century that astronomers began grasping the true nature of supernovae. In 1866 English astronomer William Huggins discovered lines of hydrogen while using spectroscopy to observe a recurring nova in T Coronae Borealis. He made the suggestion that a cataclysmic explosion might account for the unusual spectrum. Other astronomers began investigating as well but the power which lay behind these explosions didn’t become apparent until the early twentieth century when physicist Arthur Eddington speculated on the role of nuclear fusion as the source of energy for stars.

At roughly the same time, the Crab Nebula in Taurus was finally identified as the probable source of the supernova of 1054 as the Chinese had noted its location in that constellation. Along with Chinese records, historians have located a Japanese account about the ‘guest star’ as well as the writings of an Arab Nestorian christian which referenced an earlier document. Much has been made of the lack of records from Medieval Europe leading to some absurd speculation that Europeans somehow myopically failed to notice the visible by day supernova but bits and pieces of possible accounts have been located, indicating medieval scholars were not oblivious to the spectacle in the sky. The paucity of European documents is most likely the result of political turmoil in the intervening centuries leading to loss of these precious records. No doubt European astrologers would have taken note of the ‘new star’, writing and speculating about its implications for their charts, but unless there are accounts lingering in a neglected archive somewhere, it is most likely these have been lost as well.

Medieval print of astrologers

Supernovae occur in our galaxy roughly twice in a century’s time but the last supernova visible to the naked eye occurred in 1604. The majority of time, most novae are hidden from sight by the heavy lanes of dust sprinkling the arms of the Milky Way galaxy. There’s much interest in studying them as they show the variety of ends different size stars will meet. Our sun is too low in mass to undergo a supernova explosion. Instead it will sedately burn through its fuel for about nine to ten billion years (it’s at the mid-way point right now) before swelling up into a red giant, slowly puffing off its outer layers and finally ending its days as a white dwarf star.

More massive stars (above the eight sol limit) will burn through their fuel at break neck speed, the more massive the faster. After just a few million years, they too will start to expand as super-red giants, burning first through their hydrogen, then helium, then carbon and if the star is massive enough, the core burns down to the element iron precipitating the final implosion which creates the super-nova. Because mass is so critical in determining what finally happens to the star, they are objects of intense study.

Scientists are able to observe novae happening in other galaxies but there’s nothing like a ring side view for getting an extraordinary light show. Several years ago Betelgeuse, a red super-giant nearing the end of its life began dramatically dimming, leading to excited speculation it was about to go super-nova. At roughly 600 light years distance, it would be far enough away to pose no threat to Earth but provide us the first clear view of a star exploding close up (in stellar terms). Alas, it was not to be. Betelgeuse began brightening again so all that was going on was that it was ejecting a big gob of dust and gas (the stellar equivalent of phlegm) which obscured the star for a brief time.

Still, it’s only a matter of time before a giant star in our galaxy explodes so we finally get an opportunity to witness one of the most awesome spectacles Nature can produce armed with a battery of scientific instruments available for teasing out the secrets of this stellar cataclysm.

supernova starting to blow up

Scenes of October

The month is winding down in a whirl of autumn leaves and chilly breezes hinting that winter is not far off.

Gold and red autumn leaves over house


Foliage was especially bright this year thanks to regular rainfall after the semi-dry conditions of the past few years. The only drawback to it all is having to rake the leaves up afterwards. Some people toss their leaves after bagging them up as if it was all some sort of rubbish. But doing that robs the soil of critical nutrients which would have been recycled and reused by the trees if left to break down naturally. My method of disposal involves my composter. Once that is full, there is a chicken wire leaf bin. Since that is mostly full anyway, that fills up rapidly and the remainder I dump in the small patch of woods in back of the house.

As all this starts to break down, fungi of all sorts get to work. If it wasn’t for these hidden allies, leaves, and deadwood would remain on the surface of the ground, their nutrients inaccessible, the material becoming a potential fire hazard. So a near invisible clean up crew of earthworms, millipedes, mites, insect larvae and other micro-critters start chowing down on all this material.

As they chew up, digest and process the leaves, an enormous tribe of fungi begin the next step of reducing it even further. The vast majority of fungal forms live unnoticed in the soil under our feet sending microscopic filaments through all the leaf waste. But every so often they send up a fruiting body called a mushroom or toadstool. These can come in all forms and sizes from mini-mushrooms,

Tiny mushroom next to lettuce leaf.

to dinner-plate sized.

mushroom wide as open hand.

By the time they are done, the result is fragrant humus, ready for the next generation of plants.

By the end of October, wildflowers have largely gone by with the occasional exception of a late blooming dandelion or tardy fall wild aster. At this time of year, it is the seed heads of these flowers which are the main feature. They are often food for migrating birds and small rodents such as chipmunks, voles and mice. The seed heads themselves can often be as striking as the flowers. The picture below is of a patch of goldenrod gone to seed. The seedheads look more like flowers than the flowers do!

goldenrod seed heads

Last but not least it wouldn’t be October without that classic fixture of every end-of-month decoration.

pile of pumpkins

Happy Halloween everyone!

Spring into Summer

Here in northern New Hampshire, spring was late coming and grudging as it spread across the landscape. Rain was a big feature with April and May. It was cloudy most of the time with the sun making occasional appearances teasing us into thinking finally some decent weather, then disappearing behind clouds which pelted us with raw chilly rain. Over the past decade or two, weather was often abnormally warm and dry, enough so it seemed like the new normal. Hard to say if this spring will be the next ‘normal’. We’ll just have to wait and see.

bunch berry flowers

One benefit of the heavy rains is a very lush growth of greenery. There are the usual wildflowers such as bunchberry, forget-me-nots, star-flowers and so forth. But garden flowers come popping up one at a time as well: snow-drops, crocuses, daffodils, iris and lily-of-the-valley.

five foot tall Russian comfrey

Many years ago I bought a small seed packet containing a handful of seed from a variety called Russian Comfrey. I don’t know which cultivar it was but it has since prospered. It has never been necessary to fertilize it as this plant can put down roots as deep as six or more feet and suck up its own nutrients.

It can be used as a cover plant and will (at least for me) grow to Brobdingnagian proportions providing plenty of greenery to add to the compost pile. The ones pictured above are over five feet tall. Bumblebees love the tiny flowers and will squeeze themselves into one to get at the nectar, buzzing cheerfully all the while. Comfrey will reseed itself though it has not really been invasive. Some studies seem to suggest the leaves may contain carcinogenic compounds but if they do, the deer and woodchucks obviously don’t read the literature as they happily chow down on the leaves. One time I watched a woodchuck nip off an enormous leaf bigger than a dinner plate and placidly sit down to eat it all at one sitting.

garden rhubarb

Rhubarb also is doing well this year. The above plant is the last survivor of a small patch managed by my late father who had it tucked in a shady corner of the garden. It never grew that big for him but he would gather the leaf stalks to cook up and eat. I found the smell of cooking rhubarb revolting and would rapidly flee the vicinity of the kitchen. After he passed away, the patch went neglected, dwindling until only one scrawny plant was left. Finally taking pity on it, I moved it to a more sunny part of the old garden. This clearly did the trick and now it is growing more than triple the size it did for my father. This year it produced a flower stalk. The stalk towers over me and had a huge cluster of seeds on it. I have no idea if the seeds are fertile but will plant them to see what happens.

Sweet William flowers, dark pink color

Sometimes when I have left over flower seeds and no room to put them, I will toss what is left on the bank out in front of the house. If they grow, fine; if not also fine. Apparently some of the seed I tossed was Sweet William and I was pleasantly surprised to see some dark pink blossoms peeking through the weeds on the bank the other day.

Swallow-tail butterflies, bumblebees, and even a few honey bees have been making their appearance visiting the different flowers. Mindful of the recent reports of drops in the number of insects, particularly pollinating ones, I avoid the use of insecticides except for naturally derived ones such as neem oil for spot use use on lily beetles. Interestingly enough I have not seen any Japanese beetles for a number of years especially after using a beneficial nematode in the front lawn to chow down on beetle larvae. It must have effective as the beetles disappeared in subsequent years. I don’t use the beetle traps hawked in various gardening catalogs as these are really beetle magnets and will draw in every beetle in the neighborhood. Your neighbors may like this but not you.

Since summer has only just gotten underway, it will be interesting to see what else pops up.

multiple mushrooms growing on a bank

More Turkey?

A week after Thanksgiving, it’s pretty certain everyone is more than satiated with every possible dish one can think of to make use of leftover turkey meat with. Since I didn’t have company visit this year, the leftovers were the result of a pair of turkey thighs, rather than the whole bird, making it easier to polish them off.

A few days after the holiday kickoff, a small flock of wild turkeys came strolling up my driveway and into the small patch of woods in back of the house. Wild turkeys are surprisingly large, leaving prints behind very reminiscent of dinosaur tracks.

Given that the height of the Thanksgiving feast involves a native American bird, one can’t help wondering why it is called a turkey instead of whatever the First Nation peoples called them. It turns out that invading Europeans tended to name anything they came across after something they were already familiar with in their homeland. One good example is corn. The word corn originally applied to wheat or any other cereal grains. Maize by the way is not really a name from any of the First Nations but has its origins in Spanish. Each local ethnic group had their own name for this staple of life.

As for the turkey, this name was actually applied to a different bird, the guinea fowl. Originally from Africa, it was brought to Europe via the Ottoman Empire (which included the present day Turkey) and was referred to as turkey cocks or hens (depending on gender) because of that. Since the bird from North America superficially resembled the guinea fowl, it came to be referred to as a turkey as well. Because it had a better flavor than the guinea fowl, the American ‘turkey’ supplanted it on many tables and eventually became the centerpiece for our current Thanksgiving celebration.

This past year must have been a good one for wild turkeys as their numbers (based on the size of the flocks I have seen) really jumped. The current turkeys are not really native to New Hampshire. The original turkeys we had disappeared from the state 150 years ago because of habitat destruction and overhunting. Reintroduced in the 1970’s using birds from the Mid Atlantic states their population quickly boomed, helped along by an increasingly mild climate as well as a supply of well stocked bird feeders. Now they are a common sight throughout New Hampshire.

I always get a chuckle when I see wild turkeys. There’s just something so goofy looking about them. But while turkeys have a reputation for being stupid, that’s more likely true of the over-bred domestic varieties. The wild turkey is sharp-eyed and canny, necessary traits for surviving in the forest, where they are often on the menu of hungry foxes, coyotes and other critters.

The mothers carefully shepherd their offspring about. In early summer the chicks resemble fuzzy little footballs. By midsummer they have grown and feathered out enough so they can briefly get air-born for about five seconds or so when they flap their wings. Because factory farm turkeys are so heavily bred for size, many can barely walk much less fly, so it can be surprising to discover that wild turkeys can not only fly but do so very well.

By summers end, they are nearly full grown and can often be seen along with their mothers teaming up with other turkey hens, forming sizable flocks. The males seem to congregate in their own flocks as I have often seen groups of turkeys consisting almost entirely of males.

There’s an old belief that Benjamin Franklin wanted the wild turkey rather than the bald eagle to be the national bird. This is actually a culture myth. It seems Mr. Franklin didn’t feel the eagle was the best representative of American character. In fact he thought the eagle was a bit of a coward and believed the turkey was more courageous than the bald eagle. But there is no indication he wanted the turkey to be the national bird.

In any case, the turkey today is a welcome addition to the local wildlife and I hope will continue to stroll by my house from time to time to give me a good chuckle.