palmerm12400's Journal

Tuesday, April 23rd

8:30 am

The field was yet again greener than the previous week: the grass thick and lush. Now, instead of a few brittle patches poking up from the soil, tall weeds spread along the hayfield. Despite the lack of rain, the trees and plants continued to proliferate across the corners of the farm. The wind did not plague the field like before; however, the air was heavy with water vapor. The coniferous trees stood out amongst the forest of deciduous trees with their dark green branches. The differentially colored trees speckled the hillside with a spectrum of young greens and dark reds. I thought about the organisms that inhabited each tree and the diversity on the forest floor. I recalled how a species coniferous tree presented the Nutcrackers with their seeds with their up-sweeping branches. The sun did not illuminate the willow tree by the riverside like it had the previous week, but the willow still retained an ethereal glow unique to its long, elastic branches.
The birds sounded their alarms just as they had three weeks prior. It seemed as if American Robins made up a large portion of the bird population as hundreds were searching for food in the hayfields. Although I am not all too familiar with bird sounds, I suspected that the constant croaking belonged to these robins. They seemed to be the most active in the morning.

Once again I tried to look beyond the trees towards the river to judge the magnitude of flooding. As we walked through the hayfields, it came to my attention that there were still dried patches of grass here and there leftover from the winter. The water flooded the path beyond the bridge and immersed our BioCube. This week, the water covered the entire wetland, making it impossible to reach our cube without a pair of waders or perhaps a small boat. Therefore, we decided to collect samples around our ecosystem instead.

9:00 am
I inhaled the intoxicating musk of freshly budding flowers and pollen. I could not deny the beauty and serenity of the farm. Bending down, I flicked the puds of a sensitive fern growing out by the shore. As the stem flicked back and forth, I watched small clouds of golden pollen puff from their furled stems.
As I stood on the bridge, I had a sudden urge to explore the nearby forest and swamplands that bordered the riverside. The woods had a different array of flora and fauna. A thin, tubular plant peaked up from the browning leaves on the floor. It’s bright green needles formed a series of rings along its stem. A series of dark dots marked the stem about every centimeter. Dew drops settled at the end of each leaf making the small plant twinkle in the morning light. There were about three of these plants per square foot. Together, the young sprouts looked like miniature Christmas trees decorated with glass ornaments. On iNaturalist, indentifiers recognized these strange little plants to be Horsetails of the genus Equisetum. I looked at photographs of mature Horsetails and was surprised to see how the small budding leaves turned into coarse, long needles like those on a pine tree. The hollow stems reminded me of bamboo or the long pond reeds that grew in my grandmother's garden. The stems look almost like spider legs with their dark rings and jointed rootstocks. I soon realized that the reeds which grew in my grandmother’s garden were indeed Horsetails. This took me by surprise as I had spent the majority of my childhood wondering what these strange plants were. She always said that they were Filipino plants used in Traditional Medicine. In Tagalog, the Horsetail is called Buntot-buntot ng kabayo.

To my surprise, we also found a plethora of spiders residing by the riverbank. We primarily found two sizes of spiders: large spiders that spanned about two inches and small spiders that sat nicely on the edge of my pinky. Despite the size difference, the spiders bore similar markings and morphology. It could be that these two spiders were different species or perhaps this was an example of sexual dimorphism--where the females were much larger than the males. However, on iNaturalist, the spiders were identified as two different species. Identifiers labeled the large species as Fishing Spiders and the smaller species as Wolf Spiders.

Yet again, we found more aquatic snails on the sides of the river. The particular snail we decided to take as a sample was about the size of my pinky finger. It had a translucent, golden appearance with two dark stocks sprouting from its head. On iNaturalist, I suggested that this snail was an Acute Bladder Snail. However, a specialist disagreed with this identification and labeled it as an Amber Snail. She commented that Acute Bladder Snails are left handed and life in freshwater, whereas Amber Snails are right-handed and live in marshy areas.

Packing our samples, I looked back at the farm to get one last glimpse. Golden hour had passed and the clouds covered the sun, but the farm was just as majestic as I remembered.

Tuesday, April 16th 8:30 am. The hayfield, which was dry and brittle only a week before, now bore a plethora of lush, green grasses whose young blades flickered in the wind. It was wondrous how a few days of rain brought about such life and diversity. Standing at the entrance of the farm, I thought of the tiny seeds that had tucked beneath the soil all winter long and waited to be awakened by spring. As the saying goes, March winds and April showers bring forth May flowers. The chickens seemed quite happy with the development of fresh vegetation and happily romped about, pecking at the damp soil. I tried to look forward past the field to judge the amount of flooding along the bridge, but the harsh reflection upon the water’s surface made it impossible to see the water level. All along the riverside, the maples acquired deep red leaves. However, the most notable development was the willow which grew at the river’s entrance. The willow, which I had not noticed before, bore golden leaves which swayed in the morning wind. There was no other tree along the bank which reflected the golden hues of the spring much like the willow. As we walked to our location down at the river, it became apparent that we could not access our BioCube. A week before, we entangled our BioCube in the aquatic plants which grew along the water’s edge. In anticipation of increasing water levels, we secured our Biocube to a nearby tree. However, the flooding submerged our cube completely, making it impossible to get to it without getting waist-deep in water. Due to this unforeseen event, we decided to look around the river for small insects and newly budding plants. Looking for insect life, I dislodged stones from their places, causing clouds of glittering minerals to systematically rise and settle in the water. The fields of dry grass now looked like a tiny ocean. Underneath the water along the path grew several two-leaved sprouts about the size of a quarter. These sprouts were a bright green and had managed to twist their way around the rocks that made up the farm trail. After plucking one, I observed its translucent stem and dark, long root system. Its roots were almost the size of its stem which spanned about two inches. I found a second root; this one was thick and structured. It did not have multiple visible roots, but rather a single stem that extended deep into the ground. Similarly, instead of delicate petal-like leaves, it’s top still consisted of the individual, continuous stem which tightly curled. Several insects jumped about the water’s surface. They were too small to properly examine and too quick to sample, so I was never able to capture an image. However, I suspect that a portion of these organisms was a sort of mayfly, which is quite common in water ecosystems. Amongst the other organisms were also the Eastern Black Carpenter Ant, Ramshorn and Amber snails, and the Wolf Spider. Without looking closely, one might mistake the Ramshorn snail and Amber snail as the same species due to their similar golden hue. However, on closer inspection, the structural differences in the shells become apparent. The shell of the Amber snail coils to a fine point, forming the classic cone shape. The Ramshorn shell, on the other hand, is coiled into a disk. Looking at different morphologies, I thought about the biological mechanisms that isolate the gene pools of these two species and prevent interbreeding. Even with a mating attempt, postzygotic barriers would prevent fertilization. Taking 15 minutes to listen to the sounds of the farm, I noted the overpowering sound of the morning wind. This morning did not seem particularly windy, but it was as if the wind accumulated at the base field. Suprinsgly, I could not hear the water despite its overabundance. When we first arrived at the farm, a particular species of bird made deep croaking noises which sounded similar to an alarm. Its song evoked images of splitting leaves. The call was not random and followed a regular pattern: four or five chirps followed by a long, substantial call. By 10 am, the wind calmed down, and the birds no longer sounded their alarms. Only a few individuals occasionally exchanged dulcet chirps across the maples. The engine of a nearby train echoed across the field. I took notice of the rustling sound of dry leaves. I also noted the warmth of my hair due to the sun, which was now high up in the sky. At 10:30 am, the wind was almost entirely still, and it was if the whole farm was listening back.