Striped maple (Acer pennsylvanicum) - the top of this year's growth
Looking out my window at the striped maple Sam & I transplanted last year made me want to start a long-term documentation project. The shrub caught my attention because it seems to be turning colors from the top down; this is the opposite of virtually everything else, which tends to turn from the top and outside working in and down. Maybe being a small shrub with a single stem of leaves makes this pattern so different? Maybe being in super low light conditions?
Anyways, I've started various projects in the past, but this one will be easy - each year around Nov 1 (even marked it on my calendar) I'll take a quick photo of the striped maple to track its growth and branching pattern. I guess I probably should have put the marker just below the terminal bud, but below the first set of lateral buds will do. The other thing that will be neat to see is how the tape affects the color of the bark. Striped maple has photosynthetic bark, and my assumption is that it will drop its chlorophyll content and shift to a deeper red/purple color (as the older bark is). Though the tape isn't totally opaque, so we'll see about that too.
About 3 weeks ago I pruned some of the fruit trees in my backyard. I took branches from peach, cherry, and plum inside to force. The first cherry blossoms opened as soon as I got to DC! I set out a camera to try and catch a time lapse of the second set of flower buds opening. The branch had three sets of flower buds on it and they opened in sequence from outer most (distal) to the buds closest to the trunk (proximal).
Here's what I learned from my first attempt at capturing a time lapse of a flower opening:
Get your framing right! I should have left space on either side of the flower and then used a batch edit to crop all the photos. Instead the bottom flower opened and exited the frame!
Use an artificial light source and block outside light as much as possible. The street lights kept going on and off and altering the lighting on the flower. Also, as the sun came up it threw off the lighting even more.
Use the manual aperture and shutter speed settings on the camera to get the exposure constant. The flickering in the video was from minor adjustments because the light meter kept vacillating at f11 between 1/20 and1/25.
Time intervals. I set the camera to take images at 5 minute intervals and that seemed to work just fine. I used Microsoft Movie Maker to piece them together and set the image timing at 1/10 second.
Use a tripod. I didn't bring mine with me so I wound up having to jerryrig one out of an old olive oil container. It shifted slightly and had I needed to replace the batteries it would have thrown the framing off.
What: It didn't turn out nearly as well as I had hoped, but on Thursday night I set out my camera to capture a timelapse of the incoming winter storm Nemo. If you look at the pallet at the bottom of the screen you can see rise in snow as it accumulated. The winds knock off most of the snow from the trees by the second day.
Where: My backyard Other notes: Meryl pointed out to me that winter storms only recently started being named storms. The Weather Channel, aka weather.com, published a press release explaining their new self-appointed role of winter storm namers. here's an excerpt:
"During the upcoming 2012-13 winter season The Weather Channel will name noteworthy winter storms. Our goal is to better communicate the threat and the timing of the significant impacts that accompany these events. The fact is, a storm with a name is easier to follow, which will mean fewer surprises and more preparation. Naming Winter Storms Hurricanes and tropical storms have been given names since the 1940s. In the late 1800s, tropical systems near Australia were named as well. Weather systems, including winter storms, have been named in Europe since the 1950s. Important dividends have resulted from attaching names to these storms:
Naming a storm raises awareness.
Attaching a name makes it much easier to follow a weather system’s progress.
A storm with a name takes on a personality all its own, which adds to awareness.
In today’s social media world, a name makes it much easier to reference in communication.
A named storm is easier to remember and refer to in the future."
What: I don't think I'll ever be able to fully empathize with a mollusk, well at least not with a bivalve. But I do find them terribly fascinating, which isn't a bad start. And like most things, the more I learn and observe them the more I appreciate their quiet existence. While walking the shoreline at Delta Park, I was caught by the odd swirling groves etched into the sand. I had been spending some time trying to figure out how different water currents would manifest in the topography of the underlying sand - in some patches there were long straight furrows like a recently plowed field, while others had overlapping u-shaped mounds consistent in size for a given patch (see end of video for what I mean). I couldn't help but be distracted by the seemingly chaotic lines that the clams had carved across the ripples.
Ecological notes: While walking barefoot through the shallows, we didn't have to worry much about zebra mussels at Delta Park because the substrate is largely sand. Mussels are a subset of clams (see etymology notes below) that have byssal threads that serve to anchor their shells to a solid substrate - no solid substrates, no mussels. Only in a few places, like where we found heaps of downed trees partly submerged in the water, did we find zebra mussels. We did however find an abundance of freshwater clams. I unburied one, then left it with my camera set to take a picture every minute and a half. The time lapse was shot over about an hour and a half. In the first few seconds you can see the animal expel a mess of waste, which appears to be attached by a string.
There behavior still largely mystifies me. With their large rubbery foot the clams slowly reposition themselves along the shoreline - perhaps following changes in wind direction, water depth, or some other factor. Some of their trails were long slow arcs, others overlapping and confused circles. The groves left behind in the wake of their movement created small eddies in which algae settles. Fresher trails appeared as gray fissures bordered with crusty plates of sand fragmented. I checked some of the same trails after about 12 hours and they looked largely in tact, so I'm guessing it takes some stronger currents to breakdown the trails (and that they move really really slowly).
Smaller bivalves burrowed in sediments. Water level is super low right now
Their trails in the sand (hard to see unless you click on image to see a larger version).
Algae settled in old tracks
Where: Delta Park in Colchester (mouth of the Winooski River).
Etymology notes: The term clam is a muddy one to say the least. A clam could be a bivalve (a mollusk with a pair of hinged, clasping shells) that burrows into sediment - as opposed to a mussel, like a zebra mussel, which attaches itself to a substrate like pilings, other bivalves, whales, or just about anything else with a solid surface. Or a clam could be an umbrella term for all bivalve mollusks (a square is always a rectangle, but a rectangle is not always a square like a mussel is always a clam but a clam not always a mussel). When I called ECHO to ask about help identifying freshwater clams, I was corrected: "freshwater mussels," which further confused the matter since I was referring to bivalves that burrow in the sand. Maybe there's a vernacular understanding of "mussels" as any of those freshwater filter feeders.
Other notes: Not sure about the edibility of the mussels, but they seemed an enticing source of food. Mussels themselves are not toxic, but they are filter feeders so you're essentially eating whatever microscopic stuff is floating down the Winooski or hanging out along the edges of Lake Champlain). Plus I'm not sure what species they are. Vermont's Wildlife Action Plan says that of the 18 species of mussels in Vermont, 13 are listed as threatened, of special concern, endangered, or already extinct (a rate on par with national figures). I used a field guide from Connecticut to try and ID these guys, with little luck. There's another publication UVM has that I plan on checking out to try and narrow it down: Fichtel & Smith's The Freshwater mussels of Vermont. Plus, depending on who you talk to, some species can live 75-200 years. I'd feel bad eating something that old.
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