Like the fledgling heron in the image on the page opposite this column, two of my own children are preparing to leave the nest this summer. And like the gangly bird in the photograph, my human children have been exercising their “wings” for a while now, gradually moving more and more into their own lives and worlds – and away from the childhood home that for their first years was the center of their universe.
It is easy, I think, to see wonder in the world when you spend time with young children. Every little thing on a walk through the woods is interesting to a knee-high toddler. Taking a stroll with a child can reawaken that sense of admiration for the natural world, rekindle curiosity. Becoming a parent – and, more specifically, the family photographer – inspired Brent Haglund to change his perspective (quite literally, to crawling baby level) and his focus. Before long, he had moved from snapping baby photos to noticing the intricate details of tiny living things in his own backyard, and then beyond. You can see some of his macrophotography of butterfly eggs on page 12.
When my kids were in elementary school and ready to move beyond backyard meanders, we started hiking New Hampshire’s collection of 4,000-foot peaks, climbing from hardwoods into mixed forest and then spruce-fir until we reached that special above-treeline space of the highest mountains. Warblers sang, unseen, from thickets of evergreen trees as we climbed. White-throated sparrows often joined us on outcroppings when we paused for snacks. As many montane bird species decline, community scientists in the Mountain Birdwatch program (page 62) are collecting data – from mountains in New Hampshire, Maine, Vermont, and New York – to help researchers determine why.
As my children have grown older and become more aware of the world beyond our own little bubble, my daughter, especially, is dismayed by how much plastic we use each day – and where it goes (or doesn’t) after our use. It’s exciting to know that there are smart, innovative folks creating packaging that comes from trees rather than chemicals. If you’ve never heard of nanocellulose (and even if you have), turn to page 38 to learn about this material and the Maine innovators working to find new ways to use wood – all while maintaining the forest products economy that is central to much of our region.
Part of that forest economy is, of course, keeping forests as forests. One of my favorite places for a weekend walk with my good friend Amy is through the woods of a large property conserved through a local land trust. A labyrinth of trails winds through mixed forest, past cellar holes and old stone walls, and into an open field with views of the mountains we hike on longer outings. This piece of New Hampshire forest is a special place to many people and is part of a patchwork of conserved properties that provide wildlife habitat, recreational opportunities, and areas for timber harvesting. As Allaire Diamond explains in an article about conservation, on page 54, easements are one way to conserve forests, and since their rise to popularity in the 1960s, they have changed and shifted to accommodate new understanding and to allow space for yet unknown challenges.
Change, of course, is part of life. When they were quite small, I used to bring my kids to this place where Amy and I walk now. Then, we moved slowly along the wide main path, imagining fairies lived in these woods, among the ferns and birch trees, the wildflowers, and the streams trickling over mossy rocks. As these now-grown children head off to college this season and out into the world beyond to learn and do new things, I hope they hold on to that sense of wonder they had when they were small. And I hope Northern Woodlands both inspires curiosity for our readers and offers insight into the world around us.