What’s New at Wildlands

Kyla Isakson 8/10/26 Kyla Isakson 8/10/26

Wildlands’ Mighty Sourwood

At Wildlands Trust, we primarily garden with native pollinator plants. However, there are a few exceptions.

One of exception is our majestic Sourwood tree. It is believed to have been planted over 60 years ago by the Bongiovanni boys who once farmed the Davis-Douglas Farm.

The Sourwood tree is native to Eastern North America from Pennsylvania and south, yet it has flourished here at the Wildlands Trust Headquarters in Plymouth. And, yes, it is a pollinator tree.

In July, it is covered with beautiful, creamy white flowers that resemble Lilly-of-the-Valley, attracting bees that produce a highly prized honey. And in the Fall, the leaves turn a vibrant color.

So, please feel free to stop by the Wildlands Trust Headquarters at Davis- Douglas Farm to admire our beloved Sourwood tree and, while you are there, visit all of our native pollinator gardens.

Kyla Isakson 8/10/26 Kyla Isakson 8/10/26

Listening to the Landscape: BSU Students Discover the Sounds of Great River Preserve

By Maria T. Armour, M.S., Staff Associate and Instructor at Bridgewater State University

*Bridgewater State University Soundscape Ecology students conducting their observations at Great River Preserve.*

This past April, students from Bridgewater State University's Soundscape Ecology course traded in the classroom for the trails of Wildlands Trust’s Great River Preserve. At Great River Preserve, they explored the landscape through one of our most overlooked senses: hearing. With its diverse habitats of open fields, woodlands, and river frontage, the preserve provided an ideal outdoor laboratory for undergraduate and graduate biology students to investigate how wildlife- and human-made sounds can reveal the health and diversity of an ecosystem.

The BSU students visit to the preserve combined both passive and active monitoring. They deployed passive ultrasonic bat recorders for a week to document bat activity at the preserve, while also participating in an evening soundscape activity designed to sharpen their own listening and identifying skills. During this active activity, students were asked to sit quietly in the field with their eyes closed. Students first focused on simply noticing the sounds around them before creating a mental map where those sounds originated. They then used the Merlin Sound ID app to identify birds by their songs. For many students, the hardest part of the exercise wasn't identifying birds, it was putting their phones away long enough to truly listen! The activity was a powerful reminder that careful scientific observation begins by slowing down and paying attention to the world around you.

*Big brown bat (left) and eastern red bat (right), two bat species documented at Great River Preserve. Photo by M. Caitlin Fisher-Reid.*

The passive week-long bat survey also helped students grasp the value in acoustic studies. Massachusetts is home to nine bat species, and despite sampling during early spring, when bat activity is still relatively low, students detected five species using ultrasonic recorders: big brown bats, eastern red bats, hoary bats, silver-haired bats, and little brown bats. Activity was highest along the forest edge and river corridor, while the middle of the open field recorded no bat activity; a pattern that reflects where bats typically forage for insects. Big brown bats were the most detected species, while little brown bats remained comparatively scarce, likely reflecting the ongoing impacts of White-nose Syndrome on many of our native bat populations.

Beyond collecting valuable ecological data, this experience allowed students to practice every step of the scientific process - from developing research questions and testing hypotheses to collecting and analyzing real field data. Just as importantly, time spent immersed in the sounds of Great River Preserve fostered a deeper appreciation for the remarkable wildlife and protected landscapes that Wildlands Trust works to conserve. By listening closely, students discovered the story this habitat has to tell.

***

Want to learn more about the wonderful world of bats with Maria Armour? Register for our FREE Bat Walk at Great River on September 3! Maria will begin the event by sharing her knowledge of and passion for bats. Then, as dusk settles, she will guide visitors on a walk through parts of Wildlands Trust’s Great River Preserve in search of these magnificent flying mammals.

Kyla Isakson 7/14/26 Kyla Isakson 7/14/26

How Do Plants Beat the Heat?

By Justin Cifello

In times of intense heat, we flock to water and shade, put electrolytes into our water bottles, and, if fortunate, turn on the air conditioning. Plants, however, are sessile, incapable of movement; they have to deal with temperature extremes wherever they happen to have taken root. As passive as they may appear, they have a suite of sophisticated structural and chemical adaptations that enable them to withstand harsh conditions.

The ideal temperature for photosynthesis is between 68°F and 86°F. At higher temperatures, plants begin to suffer physical damage as they struggle to keep their extremities hydrated. The movement of water is key to plant survival, accomplished through a process called transpiration. Water enters the roots, drawn up in part by water tension, the same way water climbs up a straw. Leaves are perforated by tiny holes called stomata, through which excess water evaporates, creating a siphon that pulls water up the plant. Plants use about 95% of their water just to power this elevator, which is lost to the air. Wind blowing over these ports forces the process into overdrive and can account for more drying than sunlight alone.‍

*The broad leaves of poison ivy wilt to avoid the full force of the sun. Photo by Justin Cifello.*

The structure of a leaf, down to its cell walls, is primarily carbon. Though strong, it needs to be inflated with adequate water, or turgor pressure. Without water, it deflates, which we see as wilting. Some degree of wilting is protective; by drooping or curling, the leaf exposes less of itself to the evaporating effects of sunlight and wind. Too much wilting, though, leads to collapse, and the plant may be unable to recover. Extreme conditions can outpace a plant’s rate of transpiration, causing it to wilt even with sufficient groundwater. [1]

Since plants lack nervous systems, internal chemical distribution is ruled by properties of water. Chief among these is osmosis, the process by which a substance disperses evenly to areas of lower concentration. Plants utilize compounds called osmoprotectants that change the osmotic potential of the water, letting plants bend the rules a bit to keep water where they need it. Antioxidants, such as salicylic acids, found in willow, birch, and wintergreen, protect cells from the hazardous byproducts of stressful conditions. [2]

*Pitch pine, with its waxy leaves and sparse canopy, is more drought tolerant than its cousin, the white pine. Photo by Justin Cifello.*

The most visible adaptations against heat and drought are structural. Small leaves, like on bearberry, or narrow leaves, like pine needles, require less water to maintain turgidity. Both of those plants also have waxy cuticles to keep water in and reflect some sunlight. These features are seen in many of our pine barrens plants, like bayberry, wintergreen, and inkberry; their sandy environment doesn’t retain much water, so they need to hold every drop they can. Succulent plants store water in their thick stems. Though they are most associated with deserts, New England is home to a native cactus, the eastern prickly pear, which lives on dunes and dry ledges. Pale, silvery foliage helps deflect sunlight, as can be seen on water-hungry willows and jewelweed. Hairs on the leaves of sunflowers and goldenrods, trap moisture and slow down evaporating wind. [3]

Deep roots, like those of milkweed and false indigo, are obvious ways to access water. Many plants also form intimate partnerships with mycorrhizal fungi, which can forage farther than roots alone. In addition to providing soil structure, some of these fungi produce compounds that increase water retention. The organisms communicate through hormones, exchanging nutrients and compounds as needed. [4]

Some plants beat the heat with behavioral adaptations. Spring ephemerals leaf out and flower early, before temperatures climb. Drought-stressed perennials can abandon flowers to conserve resources. Annual plants will bolt at the first sign of heat, insuring they can seed the next generation. Jewelweed, an annual, has developed an ingenious adaptation. When stressed, it stops producing its showy orange flowers, forgoing insect pollination. Instead, it produces modified cleistogamous flowers, fully enclosed and devoid of nectar. These can fertilize themselves, not ideal in the long-run, but insures that at least some seeds will be produced. [5]

*An eastern prickly-pear cactus grows alongside bearberry. Coastal plants must adapt to the drying effects of salt in addition to wind and sun. Photo by Justin Cifello.*

In deep forest, where canopy cover provides shade and fallen leaves trap humidity, plants can afford more profligate growth, sporting broad and tender leaves. Heat and drought adaptations are easily seen in sunny, exposed places like open fields and coastlines. Ironically, they are also found in wetlands; these plants have high water needs and must be ready for seasonal fluctuations. We can employ these same strategies in our own gardens, applying mulch and letting fallen leaves remain to protect and cool the soil. This is another reason to plant native species, as they have spent millennia learning how to live here.

[1] Transpiration: https://durhammastergardeners.com/2016/08/25/why-plants-wilt/

[2] Heat Stress: https://cid-inc.com/blog/plant-responses-to-heat-stress/

[3] Heat Tolerance: https://www.piedmontmastergardeners.org/article/characteristics-of-drought-tolerant-perennials/

[4] Mycorrhizal Relationships and Drought: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9298553/

[5] Jewelweed Cleistogamy: https://riwps.org/rwips-blog/jewel-weed-lessons/

[6] Native Plants: https://apcc.org/our-work/education/native-plant-initiative/

Kyla Isakson 5/14/26 Kyla Isakson 5/14/26

Scandalous Sassafras

By Justin Cifello

Southeastern Massachusetts is home to a number of aromatic plants. Wintergreen, with its dark green glossy leaves and red berries, has been used as a flavoring for toothpaste and breath-mints. Bayberry’s waxy fruits lend their scent to candles. Sweetfern, though not a true fern, spices the air in hot, dry pine barrens and open meadows. But perhaps the most historically significant one is the sassafras tree.

Sassafras is fairly easy to identify from its distinctly shaped leaves, which come in several different forms. They can have three lobes, looking like a dinosaur footprint or cartoon ghost-in-a-sheet; two-lobes, like mittens; or a simple oval comprised of a single lobe. Though confusing at first, this variety is helpful for identification and can be differentiated from other trees with more consistent leaves. Rubbing a leaf or scratching young green bark will reveal its most unique quality: a bright citrus fragrance, occasionally likened to Fruit Loops cereal. [1]

In our modern era with easy access to an arsenal of flavors and sweeteners, it is hard to conceptualize just how prized aromatic plants were throughout history. Plants were used for medicine as well as flavor. Medicinal plants have always been important, but in the crowded, plague-ridden cities of Europe, people were desperate for new potential cures. These plants were so valuable that wars were fought and nations toppled to ensure access to them. Our modern globalized economy has its roots in the spice trade, and though this may conjure images of tropical islands, this demand also played a large role in the colonization of temperate North America. [2]

Sassafras grows only in the Americas and East Asia and was first recorded by Europeans by the Spanish botanist Nicholas Monardes in the 1500s. He learned of it through captive French sailors, who told of its use as medicine by Indigenous peoples. The origins of the name sassafras are unclear, thought to be a reference to saxifrage, an unrelated group of plants which bear no physical resemblance to sassafras. Saxifrage means “rock breaker” in Latin, as they grow in crevices on rock faces. The name may have been applied to sassafras as a medical metaphor: it was thought to help dissolve kidney stones. Alternatively, it could be from an unknown Indigenous word. It’s possible that both are true, as etymologies can be drawn from many sources. [3]

In addition to kidney stones, sassafras was said to be a general panacea, especially to cure syphilis (it doesn’t). The association may come from a mistranslated account of white cedar curing scurvy (it does!). Though Europe had long known plague, smallpox, tuberculosis, and other maladies, syphilis was a new threat in the 1500s - one of the few diseases to move from the Americas to Europe during the Columbian Exchange. Medicine at the time was informed by the “Doctrine of Signatures,” a belief that the origin or shape of a plant indicated what it could treat, so it seemed likely to them that this foreign plant could cure a foreign illness. [4]

Early demand for sassafras was astronomical. Some colonial charters required quotas of sassafras for export. It became the second most lucrative commodity after tobacco. In his 1602 expedition, Bartholomew Gosnold sailed to New England, where he gave English names to Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard, and the Elizabeth Islands. He established a fort on Cuttyhunk Island and brought so much sassafras back to England that the price dropped precipitously. [5]

Over time, people learned that sassafras didn’t meet medicinal expectations, but it was still prized as a sweet flavoring agent. Patent medicines gradually turned from cure-alls to general tonics, then to sodas, as the growing temperance movement sought alcohol-free beverages. Sassafras, along with birch and sarsaparilla, was one of the roots that flavored root beer. In 1960, the USDA banned certain use of sassafras root in commercial products. This was due to the compound safrole, which is carcinogenic in high amounts, though these studies are somewhat disputed. Safrole itself is a controlled substance, as it can be used in the illicit manufacture of the drug MDMA. Sassafras leaves, however, are low in safrole, with similar levels as other herbs, like basil, and are considered safe. Crushed and dried, these constitute filé powder, a thickening agent used in gumbo in lieu of okra. [6]

Though its history of human use is fraught, sassafras is a valuable wildlife food. Its fruits and seeds feed mammals and birds, and its leaves host spicebush swallowtail butterflies. Look for sassafras in open woods and field edges. Capable of reproducing through its root sprouts, it often forms stands of small trees, only occasionally becoming large specimens. Though not a panacea, its unique leaves, vibrant fall foliage, interesting bark, and storied past make this an interesting tree in all seasons.

[1] Identification: https://gobotany.nativeplanttrust.org/species/sassafras/albidum/

[2] Spice Trade: https://www.worldhistory.org/article/1777/the-spice-trade--the-age-of-exploration/

[3][4][5] Sassafras History: https://www.gillmirrlees.com/sassafras/

[6] Toxicity: https://www.mcgill.ca/oss/article/did-you-know/root-root-beer-sassafras

Thomas Patti 4/14/26 Thomas Patti 4/14/26

Lichen: The Forest in the Trees

By Justin Cifello

The treetops usually loom high out of our reach and sight. However, this winter’s heavy snowfall pulled portions of the forest canopy to the ground, affording us the rare opportunity to see it up close. The much-awaited thaw has revealed a second snowfall—a spongy carpet of fallen lichen that now blankets the forest floor. As we await the unfurling of leaves over the next month, we can ponder the rich miniature worlds of these enigmatic organisms.

Small as they are, lichens are ecosystems; each one contains a variety of organisms. Unlike other taxonomic groups, like mammals or flowering plants, lichens do not have a single common ancestor. Lichen can instead be thought of as a strategy, one that has evolved independently multiple times. Though often confused with moss, lichens are not actually plants. They are composite organisms comprising fungi and other microbes, living intertwined in symbiosis. The common denominator is fungus, which provides the structure that hosts the other residents. Since lichen-forming fungi cannot exist on their own, lichen species names describe the fungal host.

Lichen fungi cannot forage for food the way other fungi do. They have no roots or mycorrhizae to extract nutrients from the surfaces they live upon. Instead, they trap photosynthetic algae and/or cyanobacteria and incorporate them permanently into their body, called a thallus. The fungus then lives off the sugars produced by its microbial partners and acquires the rest of its nutrition from the rain and atmosphere. Though they are trapped within the lichen, the algae benefit, too. In the wild, most algae are short-lived, vulnerable to predation and weather fluctuations. The fungus offers stability and security. By changing its pigmentation, lichen protects its algal partners from lethal UV radiation. [1]

*A ruffle lichen, Parmotrema, with spore-producing cups. Photo by Justin Cifello.*

Scientists have only recently been able to appreciate these complexities and lichen’s role in the environment. Though small, lichen are numerous. By greatly increasing the surface area of whatever substrate they grow on, they create micro-habitats that support the tiny creatures that feed the larger ecosystem. As nitrogen fixers, lichen supply the forest with this vital element. Reliant as they are on the atmosphere, they are uniquely vulnerable to pollution. Lichens are indicators of good air quality and have even helped locate emission sources. [2]

A combination of aging forests and successful anti-smog legislation have helped lichens reclaim their space in the canopy. In humid areas, some trees can be festooned with them. This resurgence has led some to fear that lichens are a new forest pest, since they were not always so abundant. They are often seen on dead and dying trees, but the relation isn’t causal; the lichens are responding to increased light as their host dies from other causes. The lichens themselves are harmless. [3]

*A variety of lichens colonizing the rusty surface of an old dump truck. Photo by Justin Cifello.*

Recent analysis suggests that lichens began to appear at least 400 million years ago, after the earliest terrestrial plants. Lichens and mosses are credited with forming the first soils on earth by eroding rock while trapping minerals and water. Lichens continue to thrive in harsh places today, from the intertidal zone and the arctic to desert sands and car doors. Lichen even survived a year and a half outside of the International Space Station. [4][5]

Found in every environment, in every season, lichens are a constant companion on our outings. Hundreds of species live in New England, in a dazzling array of forms and colors, from thin films and dust to dangling chains, several feet long. We can see their complicated relationships by observing how some only grow on certain species or materials. With a magnifying class, you can better appreciate their fractal intricacy. They remind us that nothing in nature is simple; we are surrounded by resilient beauty and complexity, if only we look closely. [6]

Click on the photos below to learn more about these diverse lichens. All photos by Justin Cifello.