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.

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.

[1] Symbiosis: https://www.purdue.edu/newsroom/archive/releases/2016/Q3/yeast-emerges-as-hidden-third-partner-in-lichen-symbiosis.html

[2] Emissions Monitoring: https://gis.nacse.org/lichenair/index.php

[3] Tree Health: https://extension.unh.edu/blog/2019/04/should-i-be-worried-about-lichens-growing-bark-my-apple-trees

[4] Lichen Origins: https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/sciadv.adw7879

[5] Lichens in Space: https://futurism.com/fungi-lichens-just-survived-18-months-outside-iss-means-might-able-survive-mars

[6] Lichens of New England: https://massnature.com/lichens

Thomas Patti 3/11/26 Thomas Patti 3/11/26

The Nature of Farming

How eco-conscious farms balance food production and environmental stewardship

*Eastern gray treefrog on sen-po-sai, an Asian green.*

By Justin Cifello

Agriculture itself is not a distinctly human invention. Ants herd aphids and cultivate fungi. Beavers turn forests into wetlands full of their favorite plants. The line between artificial and natural is a blurry one. It is a philosophical conundrum I won’t be solving here, but which has given me much to ponder in my years as a both a farmer and naturalist.

This will be my 18th year of farming at Bay End Farm in Buzzards Bay, which abuts Wildlands Trust's Old Field Pond Preserve. We are an organic farm, but we still need to be aware of our impact on the local ecology. Even organic fertilizers run the risk of downstream effects like eutrophication, so they must be deployed carefully. More is not always better; overfeeding a crop can make it vulnerable to pests, and over-application of one element can prevent the plant from uptaking another. Yearly soil tests help us tailor the minimal blend of nutrients that will meet a given crop’s needs. The fertilizers themselves are largely agricultural byproducts, which release their nutrients slowly. Some are locally sourced, like fish emulsion from New Bedford, spent grain from breweries, and even seaweed from beach associations. [1]

We want the fertility we apply to stay in the soil. Bare earth is vulnerable to weathering, so we blanket empty fields in cover crops. These plants are never harvested; their sole job is to hold on to nutrients. By planting a mix of cover crops, a more complex network of roots can form, better shielding the soil against winter erosion. They give fungi and other microbes a place to live, keeping the soil community healthy. Cover crops also help prevent weeds from germinating. [2]

*Winter rye germinates alongside field peas, both used as cover crops to protect the soil.*

Soil depletion is also mitigated through crop rotation. By varying the crops we plant in each plot, we allow soil to maintain a balance of nutrients over time. The rotation includes leaving a field fallow for a season, so it can recover fertility and provide wildlife habitat. Crop rotation also prevents pests and diseases from establishing, as most are specialized to one family of vegetables. We grow different families of crops, as well as different varieties within each family. Diversity helps us not put all our eggs in one basket.

Despite our best preventative efforts, there will be pests. The pesticides available to organic farms are those that have been proven to break down quickly into safer compounds. Applied with a backpack sprayer, pesticides can be targeted carefully. We intentionally avoid applying pesticides during active times for pollinators, as well as windy or rainy days when spray may drift or run off. There are certainly more effective pest-eliminating products out there, but since we didn’t put all our eggs in one basket, we can accept some losses. [3]

*Swallowtail caterpillar on rue. Though they largely eat members of the carrot family, they rarely eat enough to be a problem. We don't eat the carrot greens, anyway.*

Many farms maintain woodlots and fields that are never planted. As vital as forests are, grasslands are important, too. Abandoned farmland has largely regrown into forests or been developed, causing a decline in open habitat. These areas host a number of species, particularly ground-nesting birds. With full sunlight, they also support a suite of wildflowers, which in turn feed specialized insects and pollinators. The monarch butterfly is perhaps the most famous of these. While the adult can be seen feeding from any garden flower, the caterpillars can only survive on milkweed, which grows only in grassland habitats. [4]

Biodiversity is, of course, worth protecting for its own sake, but wildlife does a lot for us, too. Bumblebees, with their vibrating clumsiness, are fantastic tomato pollinators. Ladybugs and their otherworldly larvae are voracious aphid eaters. Highly specialized braconid wasps seek out tomato hornworms to feed their young. Wildlife encounters are also deeply fulfilling, from the mundane, daily sight of a handsome toad to the rare glimpse of a fisher. The bright orange of a spring peeper in the leafy greens is, to me, like a canary in the coalmine. I take comfort in seeing these creatures thrive—hopefully a sign that we have been good neighbors.

*A soldier bug with its quarry, a potato beetle larva. We appreciate the assistance with one of our worst pests.*

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

By Justin Cifello

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.

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.

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