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Dee-deeee….

The spring song of the chickadee gives me perennial hope. It starts any time between Christmas and New Year’s, right after the sun has hit its low and slowly, inexorably, daylight starts increasing, a minute at a time.

I don’t notice the song’s absence until I start hearing it again. It’s particularly comforting on frigid mornings when you know there are still three months of winter to go.

Despite the harsh cold and seemingly neverending winter in Vermont, it is still possible to remain hopeful.  As a native Vermonter, I believe that it is crucial to remain hopeful.  We have recently experienced a two-foot snowfall in a single evening that appeared to make time stand still, and we have felt temperatures fluctuate from negative 7 to plus 47 in a single week.  This is what makes Vermont unique and reminds us that spring is just around the corner. 

Looking out at my wood pile, I remain hopeful that I will have enough wood to make it through the rest of the winter in warmth.  I have to admit that, although I much prefer the summer, there is something comforting about the crackling of a fire on a cold night.  Television as most people know it, does not exist in my home, and the wood stove is the centerpiece of the living room.

There is wonder and amazement in my son’s eyes as he sees the wintery world around him, and I am eager to teach him about the natural environment, seasons, plants, and animals of this region.  I am hopeful that his childhood will be full of learning about and understanding nature and the environment, and that he will be respectful of our world.

As I clean my chimney from atop the roof on this spectacular day, I look out across the land and feel happiness, contentment, and hope.

There’s more than hope!  As I write, it is New Year’s Day…I have 2 or 3 months of good skiing ahead of me in our beautiful forests.  By April I will have had my fill and won’t care about the mud.  I’ll spend April gathering together seeds for my garden and watching for early flowers and this fall’s garlic to pop through the snow and know that as soon as the ground dries up I can begin planting!

What gives me hope as the seasons change, as the challenges continue, as the day comes to an end, yet begins again, and again, and again? Nature. Nature continues to exist in every corner of every day, for me. I look for it. I look for beauty, for wildlife, even if only a songbird, for the trees, for patterns and colors and something different today than yesterday. Remaining aware of the life surrounding me helps me to keep the chaos in check. The awareness that this world belongs to something much greater than me is a comfort, and a gift every day.

I know that the spring bulbs and other flowers will come up no matter how bad the winter is and that keeps me going!  It also heartens me that I get to co-exist with the other wildlife on our few acres and I do my best to share the land with them.

Now that we’ve stared down the barrel of a full blown depression, there is an upside to a depressed economic engine.  How so?  What’s good for the economy is not necessarily good for the environment and our forests.  Reduced economic output also results in…

Reduced greenhouse gas emmisions.
Opportunity for forests to rejuvenate due to reduced demand on building materials.
Increased emphasis on a more local, natural food chain.
Reduction in commercial fishing allows wild stocks to recover.

I don’t believe the economy has bottomed out as the increasing world commodity markets indicate high prices for gold, silver, copper and oil…but when it does, we will still have our forests to support us.

This article brings me back to growing up on the farm with Charlie Brown trees (this meant any tree growing wild that looked somewhat decent).  We actually used to have to drill holes in the trunk and insert extra branches to make it “full”.  The nice thing was that it never blocked the bay window because you could see right through it.

This comment came in as a Letter to the Editor for the printed magazine.

The phrase “native invasive” in Irwin Post’s informative article (“Got Fern: Controlling Native Invasive Plants” Autumn 2010 issue) needs elaboration to do justice to the ecological case for reducing the prevalence of beech. In many parts of the Northeast, oak and other disturbance-dependent forests are not sustaining themselves under current conditions. They are slowly being displaced by beech and other trees that can perpetuate themselves in their own shade. Few oak forests are being created in these areas, mainly due to a precipitous drop in the amount of fire, clearcuts, and natural reforestation of abandoned farmland.

Currently, the fire rotation (total number of forest acres divided by the average number of acres burned annually) in Connecticut is over 3,500 years, but historically fire occurred very frequently, at least near Native American populations. Fire occurrence is also dramatically below the historic norm in the other Northeast states.

Oaks are unparalleled in their value to wildlife, not only because acorns provide the highest source of plant based protein but also because of the quantity and diversity of Lepidoptera they host. Oaks have not been able to sustain themselves in the Southeast (except on droughty sites) under current conditions, so it is unlikely that even with global warming, oak forests will be able to sustain themselves on similar sites in the north. A general increase in precipitation that is expected with global warming will likely lead to a decrease in the already low fire occurrence. The ecological problem that beech and other shade-tolerant plants poise is that their current trajectory is toward creating a more homogeneous forest landscape and possibly a beech monoculture in some areas. In order to maintain diverse forest ecosystems, disturbance-dependent species must be favored over beech and other shade tolerant trees at least on part of the forest landscape. Those interested in sustaining diverse forest ecosystems may find it useful to cut beech in July and August as it appears to reduce the percentage of sprouting beech stumps. Also, some oak saplings are outgrowing beech sprouts after a clearcut and subsequent prescribed fire. This simulates the historic establishment of oak forests when substantial fires often followed severe blow downs.

Emery Gluck
Lebanon, CT

In times of economic downturn, the lands and wildlife always pay the initial price. Our charges would be next. Until we are in over our heads, we do not know the damage we will be creating. Everyone’s hands are in this gigantic cookie jar. “I’ll just take what I can for now. I’ll be dead by the time I run out.” 

Too many uneducated takers and not enough educated doers.

And I thought we were the only ones. Every year at Thanksgiving, we take down one of the balsam firs encroaching on the fields. We bring home the top seven feet and make a wildlife brush-pile out of the rest. It’s scraggly and asymetrical, but it’s cute and it’s ours. It’s also the freshest tree possible and it lasts until after New Years!

Northern Woodlands is one of the best publications ever. I look forward to every issue, and I have learned much from reading the thought-provoking and informative articles. Keep up the good work with a first-rate magazine!

Re Paul Doscher’s remark, “I despise Colorado Blue Spruce”—why?

I actually like Red Spruce for a Christmas Tree. We get one from our land each year. The challenge is with its long horizontal branches, but can work if you have some space and aren’t looking for “perfection”.

My favorite is Arizona corkbark fir, (Abies Arizonica?).  It looks a lot like a blue spruce from a distance - but, unlike a spruce - it has soft needles!

My favorite Christmas tree in years past was the Christmas tree my father made by leaving the bottom branch of a balsam fir and staking it with a board to turn it up to the sky, letting it fill out quickly due to the healthy root system which spurred a very rapid growth and it really filled out quite nicely. Try it-its amazing how nice of a tree you will have in a few short years!

I have land in Tioga Co, NY with a population of white pine among other needle leaved evergreens.  Having tried a variety over the years we settled on white pine. We would top promising trees as they were growing to fill them out.  They were easier to trim and the aroma was wonderful. Best of all, @ my wife, is that they did not drop needles.

“Godfrey mighty!” exclaimed Danny, “We got us a cat spruce.  It stinks!” 
It was 1973, my first Christmas in Maine.  I was teaching in a two room schoolhouse.  Twelve special needs children ages six to seventeen.  We trudged out back of the school looking for a tree worthy of our 12’ ceilings, finally deciding on the best shape we could get from the slim pickings in a coastal woods.
  The peculiar odor became more evident as the tree warmed up and the days wore on.  Still, it was beautiful with lights and hand-made ornaments and strings of popcorn for the birds. 
  On the last day of school before vacation, we stripped the tree of ornaments and considered the best way to get it outside.  The school had huge, double hung windows, no storms in those days.  We looked at the tree.  I looked at the kids and then at the window. 
“Yes!” they cried almost in unison as the same thought ran through our heads.  So out the window it went.  Thus began a tradition that lasted the next five years of the school’s existence.  Not a cat spruce, of course, but pitching the tree out the window as our finale to Christmas in our school. 
Years later, when I would ask my former students, “What was one of your favorite memories of our school?” invariably it would be, “Pitching the tree out the window.  And that gosh all mighty smell of that cat spruce.”
From then on we were always careful to get a balsam fir so we could enjoy the clean, spicy aroma.  It is for that reason my favorite Christmas tree is a fir.

Balsam fir, no contest - for the fragrance and the fact that it’s native, as Jackie said.  And maybe for nostalgia too - growing up we always had a balsam fir.

Risking heresy, I have to admit my favorite Christmas Tree is no longer my native Balsam Fir, nor the ever popular Fraser Fir.  I dispise Colorado Blue Spruce, and only tolerate White Spruce.  My favorites list includes Nordmann Fir (from Europe), Concolor (Rocky Mountains) and Korean Fir.  All these I like because they are virtually pest free (yes, I’m a grower) and have color or fragrance that customers find appealling. 

As one who generally prefers native species in landscaping, and would like to keep exotic invasives out of my woodlot, I can’t say the natives can compete with my favorite Abies arizonica (Corkbark Fir) when it comes to color, shape and beauty.  My mentor in the business, Bob Girardin, calls them “Blue Alpine Fir” so people can remember them.  They grow slowly, can be susceptible to late frost damage, but darn, they are beautiful.

My vote goes to Balsam Fir, a beautifully fragrant tree that holds its needles and is also native to the northeastern US.  A true Northern Woodlander!  I made the mistake of cutting a White Spruce one year and kept looking around the room for where the cat had peed.  But it was the tree that smelled bad.  It had a bird’s nest in it, though, so that was some compensation.