Winter Resilience: Nature’s Diverse Adaptations to a Snowy Landscape

Goat Pasture Pond at Old Field Pond Preserve in Bourne. Photo by Justin Cifello.

By Justin Cifello
Justin is a farmer and naturalist at Bay End Farm in Bourne and a volunteer for Wildlands Trust. Get to know Justin (and all our Volunteer Hike Leaders) here.

One of the first epiphanies I recall having about the natural world was the revelation that trees don’t die in the fall. It’s an easy convenience of language to refer to the dead trees of winter, but they are, of course, very much alive. It was quite the paradigm shift to no longer think of winter as a time of death, but instead as a time of survival. The cold, seemingly inert wood bides its time, rations its water, and nurtures next year’s buds. The flowers and leaves that will raise our spirits this spring already exist, wrapped tightly in protective scales. As winter wanes, the careful eye can see their gradual transformation. A heartening sight well before the first daffodils emerge. 

Despite all the difficulties that snow and ice present, nature is pretty good at finding utility in an obstacle. Under the snow, in the subnivean zone, small animals can forage, safely hidden from visual predators. Snow insulates the earth, keeping it around 32 degrees—still cold, but much warmer than exposed ground. Look for the tunnels made by mice, voles, and other creatures as the snow melts. [1] 

River otter tracks. Photo by Justin Cifello.

Similarly, sheets of ice help ponds retain their heat and protect fish from eagles and herons. It is even possible to see turtles swimming below the ice. Reptiles and amphibians have a more flexible form of hibernation called brumation, allowing them to wake, drink water, and bask occasionally in the winter. Unable to reach the surface for air, they extract oxygen from the water via cloacal breathing—that is, through their butts. This only works when water is rich in oxygen, far from guaranteed when ice seals off the water below from the atmosphere above. To circumvent this issue, some turtles forgo the need for fresh oxygen entirely by using the calcium from their shells to safely tap stored energy in their muscles. [2] 

Under a foot of snow, the landscape becomes a whole new arena for predators and prey. Who survives depends on who adapts. Creatures of habit find themselves vulnerable to more flexible, opportunistic hunters. Foxes walking on top of the snow can reach bushes once out of reach. When branches are weighed down by snow, windows open in the canopy, giving small hawks better access in dense brush. Deer sink in deep snow and instead prefer to hunker down in sheltered places, making them vulnerable to the lighter coyotes who, with their wide paws, can walk on top of the snow. [3] 

Snow facilitates movement for a typically sedentary group: plants. Some trees, like birches and pines, release their seeds in winter. Birch seeds look a bit like birds; look for these “flocks” scattered on the snow. The smooth surface grants windblown seeds easy travel, skimming across now buried obstacles. Protected from a watery grave by the ice, seeds that land on ponds are safely blown to the shore, a phenomenon observed by Thoreau in his “Faith in a Seed.” [4][5] 

A “flock” of birch seeds on the snow. Photo by Justin Cifello.

Most substances condense when they freeze, but water expands. Just as this means trouble for the pipes in your home, it also puts trees at risk of damage during dramatic temperature swings in winter. Trees have various strategies to account for this expansion and contraction of water in their limbs. Dark-colored trees heat up faster, so they tend to have craggy bark that can safely shrink and swell without splitting. Lighter-colored trees, meanwhile, can afford thinner bark, as seen on beeches and maples. The high sugar content in sap lowers its freezing point, acting as a natural antifreeze. [6] 

Winter is a time of paradoxes. Undoubtedly still a hardship for us and for wildlife, it is not without its benefits. With no mosquitoes and fewer ticks, we can access places out of reach in the summer, even if slowed by snow. Without foliage, we can see farther and better observe the glacial topography. As much as the snow conceals, it reveals the busyness of animals, their stealth betrayed by their roving tracks. Life quietly reveals its dazzling resilience, offering inspiration as we await the melting of ice. 

Works Cited

1. The Subnivean Zone: dnr.illinois.gov/education/atoz/winterinillinois/subniveanzone.html 

2. Turtles: www.oriannesociety.org/faces-of-the-forest/winterwoodturtles/?v=f69b47f43ce4

3. Deer and Coyotes: www.forestsociety.org/blog-post/something-wild-fragile-balance-deer-and-coyotes-late-winter 

4. Thoreau, “Faith in a Seed”: archive.org/stream/FaithInASeed-English-Thoreau/thoreau_djvu.txt 

5. Thoreau, “The Succession of Forest Trees”: monadnock.net/thoreau/trees.html 

6. Trees: extension.psu.edu/silent-survivors-the-winter-life-of-tree 

White Pine: A Common Tree's Uncommon History

White pine monoculture at Myles Standish State Forest. Photo by Justin Cifello.

By Justin Cifello
Justin is a farmer and naturalist at Bay End Farm in Bourne and a volunteer for Wildlands Trust. Learn more about Justin (and all our Volunteer Hike Leaders) here.

Familiarity can breed contempt, or at least boredom. Being one of our most ubiquitous trees, the white pine could be overlooked as an object of study. With their uniform growth habit, lack of flowers, and sheer numbers, they may fade into the background in favor of showier plants. However, nothing in nature or history exists in isolation. Even the most seemingly mundane organism has its own story to tell. 

Identification and Physiology 

White pines are easily identified by their straight trunks and long needles. Their scientific name, Pinus strobus, is a reference to their spirally arranged pinecones, but it offers a useful mnemonic based on another trait: their radially symmetrical branches resemble strobe-light beams, unlike the chaotic branching pattern of pitch pines. Other local conifers, such as yews, spruces, and hemlocks, have much shorter needles, growing directly off of the branches. Cedars, including junipers, have more complex, forking needles, comprised of tiny scales. Only the pines have long needles, which tend to grow at branch tips in bundles called fascicles. Luckily, most of our pine species have a different number of needles per cluster: Jack pines and red pines have two needles in each bundle, pitch pines have three, and white pines have five. 

While many of the white pines we see are little willowy saplings, this is the tallest tree species in the Northeast. On the East Coast, it is only rivaled by tulip trees. The largest known in Massachusetts, at about 176 feet tall, is the Jake Swamp Tree, named for the Mohawk chief and founder of the Tree of Peace Society. Its exact location is kept secret to protect it from vandals, but other giants can be seen in the northwest corner of the state, particularly at the Peace Grove in Mohawk Trail State Forest. [1] 

Symbolism and History 

Haundenosaunee flag. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

An Onandaga story tells of a time of war between five neighboring peoples. A figure known as the Peacemaker came and instructed a man named Hiawatha in diplomacy. In front of the warring leaders, Hiawatha broke a single arrow. He then bundled five arrows together, which no one could bend. Convinced by the demonstrated strength of unity, the leaders formed the powerful alliance known as the Haudenosaunee Confederacy (commonly known as the Iroquois, now an antiquated term). They buried their weapons under a white pine, which, with its five-needled fascicles, became a symbol of peace for the five founding nations. [2] 

Flag of New England. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

The flag of New England highlights the pine tree’s significance to colonial identity, as well. By the time of colonization, Western Europe had largely depleted its forests, but their enormous ships required enormous trees. Ramrod-straight pines, light and strong, were perfect for ships’ masts. Trees with a 24” diameter were reserved for the royal navy, protected by a policy known as the King’s Broad Arrow. Qualified trees would have an arrow carved into them with an ax. Of course, colonists wanted the timber, too, and the crown was far away. At the historic Harlow House in Plymouth, one can see very wide floorboards—on the second floor only, to keep them from the prying eyes of royal tax assessors. The prohibition was eventually expanded to trees with only a 12” diameter, leading to a violent skirmish in 1772 dubbed the Pine Tree Riot. This early act of defiance is said to have inspired the Boston Tea Party. [3] 

Fire and Shade 

White pines were abundant and massive trees in the mature forests of pre-colonial Massachusetts, but they were probably not nearly as numerous as they are now. Their population boom owes largely to the decline of their primary limiting factor—fire. As saplings, white pines' thin bark exposes them to fire damage, especially when compared to pitch pines. Unlike beeches, hollies, and other trees with thin bark, white pines do not readily grow new branches or trunks from their stumps, leaving them less likely to recover when burned. Thus, regular, natural fires once gave other tree species a chance to outcompete white pines for sunlight and space on the forest floor. 

Since colonial times, however, fire has been stamped out from much of the regional landscape, allowing white pines to proliferate unchecked. In the 1800s, economic changes drove the decline of local agriculture, leaving behind large, sunny tracts of pastures and bogs—perfect settings for white pine domination. Long protected from fire, these woods have matured into single-aged pine monocultures rather than mosaics of unique species. Recognizing the importance of forest diversity to wildlife habitat, water quality, climate resilience, and more, forest managers are now intentionally setting fires—called prescribed burns—to restore the conditions that once brought balance to our woodlands. [4] 

Wolf Trees and Tuning Forks 

“Tuning fork” white pines. Left: Jacobs Pond Preserve, Norwell. Right: Old Field Pond Preserve/Bay End Farm, Bourne. Photos by Justin Cifello.

Most pine stands have now been cut several times since they colonized old fields. Since loggers prefer the straightest trees, abnormal trees were often left unharvested. Without competition, survivors could expand in all directions. Sometimes called wolf trees, these misshapen behemoths are evidence of disturbance in the forest’s history. Some are victims of the pine weevil, which kills the growing tip of young pines. The surviving branches each become their own leader and bend upwards, giving the tree a tuning fork or candelabra appearance. Stunning to behold, these complex shapes also offer different habitat than more orderly pines. [5] 

Though they are now overabundant in much of our region, this species is still a crucial member of our forests. It has served as a symbol for peace and freedom, powered the age of sail, and drove economies. Their towering groves are an inspiring reminder of the tenacity of nature, still achieving remarkable heights despite centuries of deforestation and change. 

Works Cited 

1. Jake Swamp Tree: uvm.edu/femc/attachments/project/1379/The_Exceptional_White_Pines_of_Mohawk_Trail_State_Forest_copy.pdf 

2. Hiawatha and the Tree of Peace: meherrinnation.org/culture/the-great-peacemaker-and-hiawatha/ 

3. King’s Broad Arrow and Pine Tree Riot: newenglandhistoricalsociety.com/new-hampshire-pine-tree-riot-1772/ 

4. Prescribed Burns: nationalforests.org/blog/what-is-prescribed-fire-and-why-is-it-important-for-forest-health 

5. Wolf Trees: americanforests.org/article/wolf-trees-elders-of-the-eastern-forest/