A Study in Pink

Hot days, cooler nights, and clear rivers: it is mid-summer in the Sierra Nevada. In my mind's eye, the end of July always signifies the "dog days" of summer. I've never been too clear on what that phrase actually means, but I have a very clear personal definition: the time in the summer in which life slows down a little. To me, it's usually a time characterized by long, hot days that seem in drag on in the most pleasant way. The newness and novelty of the summer has worn off slightly, leaving the days of rushing to pack summer adventures into every waking moment behind. There are still plenty of summer activities to be had and to check off lists, but the atmosphere seems to take on a more calm, lazy air, with tasks that feel less pressing. A greater need for outdoor time and also relaxation time seems to persist in me this time of year, which I gladly fulfill through walks, swimming, and biking.

I recently finished reading Terry Tempest Williams' new book The Hour of Land, which focuses primarily on her visits and connections to various national parks. I enjoyed Williams' book for its vivid descriptions of some of her favorite parks, like Grand Tetons, and her in-depth exploration of sites entirely new to her, like Big Bend National Park in Texas. During each day of her visit to Big Bend, Williams writes in a different color of notebook, which centers her daily writing on interpretations of her surrounding scenery and reflections on the particular color. This singular focus of color intrigued me.

Through my work conducting meadow assessments, I have had the lucky opportunity to see and spend time among some spectacular Sierra Nevada wildflowers. I often try to photograph them for my enjoyment, and also so that I can use the photos to identify any that I don't know. I have seemingly hundreds of wildflower photos from this spring and summer, but thought I would follow along in Terry Tempest Williams' style and focus on a singular color: pink. A bright, cheerful color, pink is a most striking view to set your eyes upon when first encountering a mountain meadow. I have so enjoyed getting to see many different varieties of wildflowers. One particularly interesting aspect of wildflower viewing has been seeing the variation in colors even among the same species.

See below for a foray into the world of the pink wildflowers in California.

Some type of mallow? Table Mountain, near Oroville 

Purple owl's clover, Table Mountain, near Oroville

Purple owl's clover, Table Mountain, near Oroville

Bitterroot, Table Mountain, near Oroville

Not sure about this one. The closest thing I can find is Cycladenia.

Checkerbloom, Point Reyes National Seashore

Sierra Onion, Eastern Sierra

Shooting star, Sardine Meadow, Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest

Elephant's Head, Granite Chief Wilderness

Mountain Pride, Granite Chief Wilderness

Indian Paintbrush (maybe Giant Red Paintbrush), Pinnacles National Park

Not sure on this one either, Spenceville Wildlife Area

The Wonders of Spring Wildflowers

This is my very first spring in California, and so far it has been wonderfully full of wildflowers. I was lucky enough to be able to go on a guided wildflower trek several weeks ago, and took a copious amount of notes and photos so that I could begin to learn the names of the wildflowers here. I think one of the reasons I love wildflowers so much is because they’re a constant in my life. In Michigan and Vermont, spring meant beautifully delicate ephemerals, like bloodroot, Dutchman’s breeches, and trout lily. In Montana and Idaho, I found rabbit brush, bog gentian, larkspur, and arrowleaf balsamroot as I worked in remote wilerness areas. And here in California, I find myself driving along rural roads, distracted by expanses of poppies, and wally baskets. Fields of lupine remind me of The Sound of Music. See the below photos for wildflower sightings of California!

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Sticky monkeyflower

Wallybasket

Fiddleneck

California poppy. A classic! 

Fungus Foray

This past weekend, I attended a Fungus Foray, organized by a local watershed council. There were several different foray groups to choose from, depending on previous mycology experience. I chose the beginner group, and we spent our time in and around a Toyon tree grove. We rambled through the woods in small groups, stopping often to examine various mushrooms, lichens, berries, moss, etc. It was my favorite type of outdoor day, because it felt like we were on a scavenger hunt for mushrooms, but we were also excited about anything else we found. 

The weather was perfect for mushroom foraging: chilly and damp, but not actively raining. After a few hours, we returned to the lecture hall and pooled our discoveries. I was amazed by the variety in the different mushrooms: the richness of the color scale and the textures (bloblike, slimy, gilled, or spiky) made me realize how utterly odd and otherworldly mushrooms are.

Although I took notes during the lectures that were held after the foray, one of the main things I learned was that identifying mushrooms is very involved and challenging. It will certainly be a long but fascinating process of learning to identify even the most common/basic species. 

I also enjoyed going into the darkroom to see phosphorescent mushrooms displayed under blacklight, and I learned that yarns and fibers can be dyed using mushrooms. 

Check out the photos below to see some of the "treasures" of the scavenger hunt!

These little mushrooms grew atop a mossy log

One of many finds near the Toyon grove. 

Purple Bolete mushroom (I think)

After spending a couple of hours at our respective foray sites, we all came back together to examine, admire, and attempt to identify our discoveries

These types of mushrooms were almost translucent! 

Insect galls on oak leaves (spined turban gall on Blue Oak leaf)

People of all levels of mycology applied their knowledge to try to identify our discoveries

Examining phosphorescent mushrooms under blacklight

Greenhouse Gas Monitoring in the Sierra Nevada

Signs of a healthy meadow (from caltrout.org)

Signs of an unhealthy meadow (from caltrout.org)

As an AmeriCorps member with American Rivers, I periodically get to go out in the field and do conservation-related work. One ongoing project that I am involved with is the greenhouse gas monitoring happening in several different meadows of the Tahoe National Forest. 

This project aims to measure greenhouse gas emissions and carbon sequestration in meadows that are in the middle of fairly intensive restoration projects. In order to measure the greenhouse gases, we set up plastic chambers directly into the meadow grasses. After getting our assorted data sheets and instruments organized, we each cycle through a 45-minute monitoring period with our assigned plots of the chambers. The chambers have soft sections of the lid, which we pierce with a syringe needle to draw up gases. The big-picture goal of this project is provide data to show that meadows are effective at sequestering carbon. This will help government agencies and organizations procure funding to further study and restore these areas.

This past month's monitoring posed a particular challenge: winter came to the Sierra, which was a welcome sight for Californians who have weathered the multi-year drought. We navigated icy mountain roads and managed to still conduct our field work while enjoying two sunny, snowy days. Check out the photos below to get an idea of how the monitoring works. 

Using large backpacks to carry in the chambers used for gas monitoring 

Sometimes birthdays fall on field work days, so we bring cake and candles and celebrate in the snow! 

We use a needle and syringe to collect gas from each chamber.  

Burning Murphy Meadow

As a newcomer to the Sierra Nevada, I am learning a lot about what types of restoration work and environmental issues are relevant here. Below is a blog post that I wrote for the American Rivers blog, which you can check out here. 

Fire and water: two elements necessary for life, remedies for one another, and contradictory. And in this case, important factors for improved downstream water quality.    

American Rivers staff recently helped organize and oversee a controlled burn at Murphy Meadow. After a few years of hard work to align schedules and obtain burn permits, “Burn Day” was upon us and, cameras in hand, we chattered excited as we drove to meet the contracted firefighters.

Murphy Meadow, high above the South Yuba River Canyon, is located in the Sierra Nevada foothills and hosts a variety of interesting creatures—I spotted a Sierra Alligator Lizard and a bobcat in the half-day I was there watching the burn. In addition to providing invaluable wildlife habitat, meadows sequester carbon and improve the water quality of rivers.

Performing prescribed burns of these areas can be traced back to the Native Americans of the region, who would systematically burn small patches of land in order to clear brush and understory growth. Ron Goode of the North Fork Mono tribe describes why cultural burning is one solution to the drought.

But with development of rural areas and changes in fire management policies, setting fire to any area has become more and more challenging.

Increased wildland fire suppression has inevitably led to meadows slowly being overtaken by conifers, turning into forested landscapes, rather than open spaces that offer unique habitat.  Better management of river headwaters sites can mean improved response to climate change and increased water supply reliability—both major benefits for drought-ridden California.

Clear of invasive species, pine needles, and dead, woody debris, the meadow is now a canvas of potential for new growth. In just several months, the meadow will show signs of new life: the beginning shoots of the many native grasses and wildflower seeds that we planted will add greenery and color to the charred mounds of deergrass.

Controlled burning is just one way American Rivers is working to restore meadows, which are often sites of river headwaters. Fire will bring life to this landscape again. And I can’t wait to see what it looks like.

Murphy Meadow before burning

Sierra Alligator Lizard

The burn started at the top of the meadow and progressed downslope

The burn toward the end of the first section. 

Deergrass mounds that have been burned 

Sprinkling native grass and wildflower needs on the newly burned meadow

Winter Ecology

On this beautifully sunny, mild winter day, I am reflecting on a very special experience I recently had. This past winter break, I signed up for a course entitled Winter Ecology. Bernd Heinrich, renowned biologist, book author, and UVM professor emeritus teaches the course on his property in Western Maine. For one week, ten UVM students (a mixture of undergraduates and graduates) lived in a log cabin without electricity or running water, and only heated by a wood stove, which we took turns getting up to stoke every couple of hours throughout the night. Every morning, we would rise as the sun rose over the mountains and illuminated the frost-covered windows. Bundled in many, many layers, we visited with one another quietly as water boiled for oatmeal. After breakfast, we rambled through the woods with Bernd with several hours, each day visiting different areas. Bernd teaches in the same way he learns--from the land itself, without plans, letting his daily discoveries dictate his curiosities. He has been learning from this one particular piece of land for many, many years, and it made me think quite a bit about what an honor it would be to know one place so well. Some of the highlights included using an axe to chop through the thick ice of Alder Brook and sampling benthic macroinvertebrates (this also turned into my individual research project for the class); finding nests from the Red-eyed Vireo, Chestnut-sided Warbler, Cedar Waxwing, and Robin; watching Bernd chop down trees and climb trees; making homemade bread in the wood stove; listening to a visiting scientist discuss her research on chickadees; and hiking to a lookout over Webb Lake to enjoy the sunset. I loved learning from and also teaching the graduate students, and I thought it was really valuable to have people from so many different academic backgrounds in the course. After cooking a hearty meal for dinner, we sat around the large table and pored through Bernd's collection of field guides and reference books. It was refreshing to be in a group of people so motivated to get outside and learn, even in the face of -24 degree temperatures!

Check out these photos, which help illustrate the nature and structure of the course, and also how much fun we had! 

Bernd climbing a tree to retrieve a red-eyed vireo nest.

The resident barred owl waits for a snack offering.

Sunrise through the frosty cabin windows.

View looking up into the center cavity of an old yellow birch.

Balsam Fir vs. Spruce

Exploring every sense of winter--in this case, the aroma of a spruce tree.

Red-eyed vireo nest painstakingly procured by Bernd.

Moving a chopped ice chunk out of the water in or

Sampling for benthic macroinvertebrates along Alder Brook.

Stoneflies, mayflies, and dragonfly nymphs galore!

A single bit axe, sled, water jug, and hearty souls--all tools of the trade for water runs. 

A sunny, frozen crystalline view of Alder Brook, looking downstream.

The Art of Noticing

Happy autumn, everyone! Here is a piece of writing from the LANDS Field Semester that I'm currently in.

The first week of readings brought up both familiar and foreign concepts to me.  As I reflect on my incredible and fulfilling summer experiences working on a snorkel field crew in Idaho, I find myself thinking a lot about my group’s dynamics, and how magical it was to spend time living fully in the present, enjoying the outdoors. I am hopeful that my fall experience with LANDS will continue along that vein; I feel ready to absorb and engage, and gain as much as possible.

I really enjoyed rereading Aldo Leopold’s “The Land Ethic”. I think that I have read it for several different classes, but it’s amazing how quickly some ideas can fade or be forgotten in order to absorb new information. Leopold writes “One basic weakness in a conservation system based wholly on economic motives is that most members of the land community have no economic value” (6). I found this passage helpful in my efforts to mentally transition for summer work mode to school and to Burlington. My summer experiences taught me to appreciate the rivers, the time I shared with my crewmembers, and hard physical labor, the kind that made my eyes shut so easily and gratefully at the end of each day. I feel fortunate that I have had so many experiences to go outdoors and actually have the time and resources to notice stones, butterflies, bugs, riffles and pools, and flowers—I treasure my time outdoors with all of my heart, because it never fails to bring me pure tranquility and happiness. But it got me thinking about people who haven’t been in the circumstances to have such treasured memories outdoors—do they share the same appreciation for little details of nature as I do, or not? Can a person who has only ever known the concrete sidewalks and buildings of the inner city see the beauty and value in a single wildflower, the sight of open spaces and the joy it can bring to the human heart, or even the bittersweet changing of the seasons?  Do these people appreciate nature more, because they have such limited access to it, or less, because they simply haven’t had much exposure? These are questions that I’m currently grappling with, and an answer that I’ve come up (based on my current thoughts, which are of course subject to change and improvement) is that it really is based on each person’s individualized experience.  I can’t put a monetary value on seeing an adult Chinook salmon for the first time, or the taste of a ripe wild blackberry, or the feeling of mud dried on my legs after a hard day of hiking to snorkel sites. In “The Land Ethic”, Leopold articulates the importance of creating a land conservation system that incorporates these “priceless” values—values that do not have economic value but hold memories, peace, health benefits, and joy.

In my mind, attempting to understand values that do not have a specific label is also connected to group dynamics. The introduction of the “This American Life” piece spurred me to think about making sure that I put effort into connecting with my LANDS peers and professors. During my summer work, I found that the best way to connect with my crew leader and fellow crewmembers was to do two things: listen, and practice empathy. When I listened to their stories and their ideas, I began to realize that it was not always necessary to completely understand as much as it was to put effort into trying. As I look ahead to the LANDS semester, I think it will be important to maintain a positive, supportive attitude so that our team can accomplish our work with excellence and efficiency, and we can fuel ourselves with a cheerful momentum. In creating a land ethic and in group dynamics, it seems more important to recognize and value the process and value in both the individual and the system in the detail: having an end result is meaningful, but the journey or the process should not be overlooked.

Skeleton found while snorkeling

Near the main Salmon River and Riggins

Warm Lake Creek

"The Plunge"--South Fork Salmon River

Trout fry vs Chinook zero

East Fork South Fork Salmon River

Collared bighorn sheep