First Woodland Blooms

I spent a little time yesterday walking the woods in search of early spring flowers.  At first glance it didn’t appear that I would a green leaf, let alone a blooming plant.  After 29 years of walking these woods, I’ve had to accept the fact that Blue Jay Barrens is a disappointment in the category of spring woodland flowers.  The shallow soils and dry conditions, along with historic land abuse, have not allowed massive quantities of the typical spring woodland wildflowers.

It wasn’t long before I spotted Blue Jay Barrens’ most common early spring bloomer.  White Trout Lily, Erythronium albidum, grows throughout the woods, but is generally found as scattered plants instead of thick stands.

Leatherwood shrubs, Dirca palustris, were in full bloom.  The droopy yellow flowers are quite showy from a distance of a few feet.  From farther away they are hardly noticeable in the sun drenched woodland understory.

Hazelnut, Corylus americana, was also in full bloom.  Leatherwood is a beacon compared to the diminutive flower of the Hazelnut.  Unless they are actively seeking it, most people never see this bloom.

Hazelnut is one of those plants that has separate male and female flowers.  What people see are they highly visible pollen producing catkins that hang like miniature opossum tails from the branch.  The female flower from which the edible nut will develop is represented by a tiny cluster of red pistils that wither soon after pollination.

The showiest blooms came from this Red Maple, Acer rubrum, growing at the edge of the woods.  The vibrant red blooms make this tree hard to miss.  This is another species that has separate male and female flowers.  Shown here are the male flowers.  I couldn’t find any female flowers anywhere on the tree.  The lack of female flowers causes me no distress since Red Maples can be aggressively invasive in open fields.  I would be happiest if the tree didn’t produce any seeds.

A few other woodland species had reached the point of developing flower buds.  This is Toad Trillium, Trillium sessile, my most common Trillium species.  Unfortunately, the deer browse heavily on this plant and many will be eaten before they have an opportunity to bloom.

Purple Cress, Cardamine douglassii, can also be found throughout the woods.  This is a hairier and slightly shorter version of the common Spring Cress.  Spring Cress tends to be confined to the areas of moister soils, where as Purple Cress thrives from the flood plains to the driest ridge tops.

Not even a flower bud here.  The distinctive leaves of Puttyroot, Aplectrum hyemale, are a promise of blooms to come later in the summer.  It won’t be a showy bloom, but it’s what I’ve come to expect from the woodland flowers of Blue Jay Barrens and I know it will be enjoyed.

Downed Trees

During my brief time spent assessing storm damage in the woods, I found only one tree that had actually pulled up roots as it went down.  Had the wind storm come during a time of saturated ground, many more trees would have suffered this fate.  This tree probably would have remained standing if the wind hadn’t recruited some help.

While on its way to the ground, a second tree caught the first in its limbs and gave it the extra push needed to tear its roots from the ground.  This is a common occurrence and the cause of many downed trees.

The offending tree broke at a point about 15 feet up and caught the victim low enough on the trunk to give the appropriate push to break the roots free. 

What is left is a large log full of potential energy just waiting to relocate to a more stable position on the ground.  Unsecured heavy objects suspended in the trees are one of the greatest hazards in the woods.  I don’t think I’ll test my luck by standing beneath it. 

It looks like there was a defect and some internal rot at the site of the break.  This is what’s most commonly found when a tree trunk gives way.

The top has a good grip, so it’s hard to predict which end will first fail and bring the tree downward.

This tree top ended its journey in an upside-down position.  There are a lot of new situations for creatures that live or nest beneath fallen logs or within tangles of dead branches.

Most of the debris was represented by large limbs.  Many of the detached limbs are still precariously balanced high in the trees.  As the leaves lose weight through drying, the balance will change and the limbs will continue their journey earthward.  The sound of falling limbs is common for many days after a severe storm.

Limbs on the ground mean there are areas of exposed wood in the living tree.  These are all points at which decay, disease or insects can invade.  The storm may be gone, but it could take decades for all of the effects to be realized.

Last Look at Winter

I make seasonal treks up The Hill for the specific purpose of taking a last look at conditions that I know are about to make a rapid and drastic change.  The equinox trips preface the most dramatic transformations.  The color has changed some, but this Indian Grass field has remained essentially unchanged for almost five months.  Prairie flowers will soon crowd into the grass stalks. By late summer, these stalks will be lost from view and a new stand of Indian Grass will take over the field.

The grasses are shorter on the crest of The Hill, but the dead stalks will also disappear with the rapid influx of summer green.  Decomposition begins at ground level, causing the dead material to lose its anchorage.  As the new growth rises, the old falls.  The transition is accomplished so smoothly that you’re sometimes left wondering how it happened.  As soil temperatures rise in the late spring, soil micro-organisms associated with the prairie ecosystem begin to feed heavily on soil surface organic matter.  This not only causes a rapid reduction in the amount of dead material, it releases nutrients necessary to the development of the growing prairie plants.  Dead matter goes while the prairie plants grow.  It always reminds me of how people in the old movies could slip quietly out of sight in a pool of quicksand.

The Eastern Red Cedars will soon shed their winter browns and yellows.  The varying colors make each tree stand out as an individual.  Warm spring days will make them merge back into a solid green screen.

The view down the valley will be lost as the deciduous trees regain their leaves.  Each year, the trees grow slightly taller and block a bit more of the view.  The summer view has nearly disappeared.

The leafing of the woods is like pulling a curtain.  The illusion of having a functional deciduous forest returns.  The woods is roughly 30 acres positioned in a long strip along the back of the property.  At its widest point it’s just over 600 feet.  It acts as a forest ecosystem only on the smallest of scales.  Even so, it’s nice to see it green up each year.

Leaves will apply that same illusion inside the woods.  During the winter, you have to look longways through the woods to gain a sense of depth.  The summer view is more restricted, so if you’re lucky enough to be out when there’s no traffic on the road and no trucks on the nearby highway and no one shooting on the next ridge and no one running their chain saw down the hollow and no one riding around on their four-wheeler, you might imagine yourself in the deep woods far from civilization.

We can’t forget the changing of the deer from their winter gray to summer red.  I’m sure they’ll do all they can to boost the Blue Jay Barrens Whitetail Deer population.  This is also the time of year that I concede to a change in management seasons.  Those winter jobs that were not completed will just have to wait until next year.

Tree Holes

Tree cavities are important as nesting and denning sites for many species of animals.  When I’m out walking, I try to keep an eye on the holes to see if I can spot any signs of life inside.  I’ve enjoyed viewing a wide selection of birds, mammals, reptiles and amphibians using tree holes as a temporary shelter.

Blue Jay Barrens has no shortage of trees with holes that are suitable for habitation by a variety of organisms.  The woods don’t have much to offer in the way of commercial timber trees, but it’s of blue ribbon quality when it comes to offering diverse habitat for animal species.

The majority of tree holes began at the site of dead branches.  The decomposing branch allowed decay to invade the heartwood of the tree trunk.  When the branch finally fell away, it was easy for animals to excavate a nice cavity within the tree.  As the tree tries to grow over the cavity, a ring of growth forms that gives the whole thing the look of a ship’s port hole.

Sometimes a hole is dug though the bark to the interior of a healthy living tree.  These often have a more oval appearance and if they are not maintained, the tree will try to seal the hole.  This hole was about 40 feet above my head, so I couldn’t examine it closely enough to tell for certain whether this was the case here or if it was actually a branch site.

The holes come in all sizes.  There are cavities large enough to accommodate a sprawling raccoon as well as holes that seem perfect for the smallest cavity nesting birds.

Some trees have decay running the length of the trunk.  As more wood decomposes, cavity size increases.  Eventually, the cavity runs the length of the tree.

Sunlight filling the winter woods makes each hole stand out as a dark target, but there’s usually minimal tree hole activity at this time of year.  During the spring and summer, most of these holes become impossible to locate.  After the leaves emerge, dark shadows and dappled sunlight provide an effective camouflage.  My summer walks will occasionally afford me glimpses of tree holes, but unless I make a conscious effort to seek them out, they will most likely remain unnoticed.

Maples in Shade

Other than trail maintenance and invasive species eradication, I don’t do much management in the woods. I make observations of changes, but I don’t know of any practical methods of directing the change or if there is even a need to try. My woods is about a 30 acre block that stretches for half a mile along the north property line. By most definitions, the woods aren’t large enough to be considered forest and are much too small to support a woodland ecosystem. There are woodland blocks on neighboring properties, but these are small and fragmented. I do my best to maintain as many woodland attributes as possible and sometimes try to trick myself into believing I’m walking through a forest. This is difficult in the winter when you can see the woodland boundary in just about every direction.

One thing I’ve noticed is the increasing number of Sugar Maples moving into the position of dominant tree. Sugar maples are fast growing trees that are able to grow in low light conditions. They are in a position to rapidly fill in a hole in the woodland canopy caused by the death of a larger tree. As trees die or get blown over, the Sugar Maples move up to take their place.

The appearance of the woods doesn’t change much. There’s still a wide mix of species. The noticeable difference over the last 26 years is the increase in sapling Sugar Maples. Historical cattle access to the woods kept the understory fairly open. When I moved to the property, much of the woods was free of understory trees and shrubs.

There’s an abundance of different tree seedling species growing in the woods, but it’s only the Sugar Maple that manages to insert itself into the upper canopy. Despite the shady conditions, it manages to keep on growing.

I’ll continue to watch the changes. In another 100 years, they may well refer to this as Sugar Tree Ridge.

The Woods

The bulk of the leaves have fallen and the woodland walking trails are now covered over. The combination of deer and human foot traffic will have the paths visible again by spring, but the leaves being crushed and trampled into the soil will help protect the trails from erosion.

The woods don’t look much different than they did prior to leaf out in the spring. Windy and rainy conditions over the summer brought many standing dead trees to ground. The number of new fallen trees seems to balance the number of old trees that have finally lost their shape and crumbled to the ground. A casual observer probably wouldn’t notice the subtle changes that are constantly occurring. Since I’m a frequent visitor to the woods, I tend to notice when a tree loses its fight with gravity; especially when the tree ends up blocking one of my paths.

The extremely wet summer caused the woodland Diarrhena Grass to flourish. Fallen leaves are hidden by the grass stalks and the woodland floor takes on an uncharacteristic shaggy appearance.

The last logging effort left some openings in the woods large enough to encourage the establishment of Eastern Red Cedars. I would probably remove these cedars if there weren’t so many other more important things to do. Cedars are sometimes detrimental to the spring wildflower population because of the year round shade they provide. When they are just a few scattered cedars, the decrease in light level is not very noticeable. Eventually, the cedars will die from lack of sunlight when the deciduous tree canopy completely closes.

The cedars will soon be reduced to skeletons taking up negligible space in the forest understory. Unfortunately, they are fairly rot resistant and will remain for many decades. The dead deciduous tree will fall and be long decomposed before the cedar begins to show its age. I enjoy the open winter woodland just as much as I do the closed summer conditions. I’m glad the seasons keep things cycling, so I don’t get tired of any one situation.

Turkey Damage in the Woods

There’s nothing odd about seeing a fluffy layer of leaves on the woodland floor, except when those same leaves were pressed flat to the ground just a few weeks earlier. During January and February, a series of wet, heavy snows saturated the leaves and mashed them into a thin layer covering the soil. The woodland floor looked like it had been covered in leaf patterned linoleum. So how did they get fluffed up again?

Enter the Wild Turkeys. Turkeys on the move will travel in a column. When they begin to forage, they can quickly turn that column into a skirmish line. I’ve seen a flock leave the wooded slopes looking as though they had been visited by a 50 foot wide roto-tiller. Like any common farmyard fowl, turkeys scratch the ground as they search for food. This is an automatic action that they perform even when food is in plain sight before them. In years like this, when there is little food to be found beneath the leaves, both the time spent foraging and the tilling of the hillsides increases. Too much of this type of activity can lead to soil erosion in the woods.

Wild Turkeys were not common here 25 years ago. Evidence of their passing was limited to a few areas of disturbed leaves and an occasional spot of exposed earth. Now, the entire woodland floor is disturbed and bare ground is found everywhere. At the time of European settlement, turkeys were abundant in this area. If turkeys are a natural part of the woodland, why do I view them as a threat to the integrity of Blue Jay Barrens and why do I view their actions as damaging? I think it’s the same problem the dinosaurs had in Jurassic Park; the ecosystem the turkeys are exploiting today is not the same as that found a couple of hundred years ago. We don’t have the same species composition that historically produced huge quantities of nuts upon which the turkeys sustained themselves through the winter.

Loss of the nuts hasn’t bothered the modern day turkey. They are quite adept at exploiting whatever food source is available. Even in the best of years, nuts are in short supply in late winter. Woodland foraging turkeys seek out early sprouting plants to fill the void. If it’s green, the turkeys will probably eat it.

The evergreen leaves of Christmas Ferns have been the focus of much turkey attention. There aren’t any leaves that haven’t suffered from some nibbling. Spring wildflowers will soon be sprouting. The turkeys will quickly take advantage of this bounty. As the turkey population increases, there is a noticeable decline in the numbers of blooming spring flowers at Blue Jay Barrens.

The ferns will recover, but they’ll suffer from stress. Plants can survive some stress with no ill effects. The problem comes when they suffer minor stress from many different sources. The cumulative effect of stress from various factors is often responsible for the death of the plant. It seems that many plants are already stressed by air and water quality issues which make them more susceptible to attack by insects and disease. It can’t help to add one more to the list of stressing agents.

The turkeys have even taken to excavating beneath fallen logs in search of food. When I first noticed this behavior about 15 years ago, I thought it was from a hen excavating a depression for its nest. No nests ever developed. As turkey numbers grew, the excavations became more numerous and often stretch the length of the log. I used to think of large fallen trees as perfect havens for salamanders, but I guess that’s no longer the case.