By BILL DANIELSON
For The Recorder
This certainly has been a strange year. Winter seemed to consist of a couple snowstorms that could be easily classified as preseason dustings, or postseason leftovers. Just a few years ago, we had a Halloween blizzard that outmatched both of this year’s weather events combined. It almost seemed as if we skipped winter entirely, but now it is finally official. This winter of technicality is finally over and spring is here.
This, of course, is a decision that was made by measuring the position of the planet in its orbit around the sun. Spring has finally arrived, but it may be equally odd, at least in the beginning, because it is going to be shaped by the winter that preceded it. There will be no melt, for instance, because there was nothing to melt. The timing of everything may be off as a result, and one can only wonder about the ramifications.
Though we may not remember it as clearly, 2012 was also a very warm year. There were times when I referred to 2012 as the year without a winter, because it also seemed to lack any significant snow, but this year seemed to shatter some of the records. As an example, lets look at the first soundings of the spring peepers. Last year, which was a very severe winter, the peepers didn’t start singing until April 13. In 2014, that special day came on April 8, while in 2013 it arrived on April 7.
In 2012, the year without a winter, the peepers started singing on March 17, but this year I heard peepers singing on March 10! I have no doubt that the exact dates of the eruption of peeper song in your specific neighborhood will be somewhat different, but my observations of the events, within earshot of my house, serve as my personal baseline, and so far things are way ahead of schedule.
Here’s another great example of what I’m talking about. Over the last few years I have kept track of my first sightings of tree swallows in my yard. Since 2009, this arrival date has held steady as the single most consistent and reliable indicators of spring activity. In 2010, I logged my first tree swallow on April 2 and the latest arrival date in my 2009-2015 window was April 9, 2011. This year, I saw three tree swallows flying above my yard on March 9.
So, one thing I am going to start paying close attention to is the blooming schedule of our local wildflowers. My records on this particular subject are not going to be nearly as complete as those I have for birds, but if I comb through the pages of my journals I ought to be able to piece together a rudimentary calendar of sorts. Skunk cabbage should be an easy species to watch, but there is another that might serve me better.
Colt’s foot (Tussilago farfara) is a small, herbaceous plant that is often found growing in sandy soils by the roadside. The flowering stems poke up out of the ground very early in the year and unfurl yellow blossoms that bear a resemblance to dandelions or hawkweeds. I have many photos of colt’s foot in my collection, but I don’t have a single image that shows the green leaves of this plant. This is because the leaves don’t emerge from the ground before the flowers go to seed, which gives the impression that there are actually two different plants growing in the same place; one a flowering plant without leaves, the other a green plant without flowers. Timing is everything.
In almost every series of colt’s foot photos, I have managed to find and photograph some strange fly or another. The species in this week’s photo is Epalpus signifier, a tachinid fly that is quite common and widespread in the United States. The only reason I was able to make this identification, which I must admit is somewhat tentative, is because I spent $100 on a Field Guide to the Diptera. I sat with a cup of coffee and poured through the possibilities, then confirmed my identification based on that strange curve on the front of the fly’s head.
I took this particular photo in mid-April of 2011 (the year of the late swallows) but I am certain that this was not the first time I saw the flowers that year. I usually watch the flowers advance into full bloom before I bring my camera to work and stop to take photos on my way home. If things in the flower world advance at the same accelerated schedule as the events of the bird world, however, I may start to notice colt’s foot blooming before the month is out.
And finally, provoked by a deficit of color this winter (we were even deprived of the stark white beauty of a snow-covered landscape for most of the winter) I present a photo of a fringed polygala (Polygala paucifolia). This small flower is found in areas with a high conifer component. The blossoms can open as early as April, but today’s photo was taken in May. I have no doubt that blooming time will depend on specific environmental conditions in a certain area, so I would predict an early appearance this year.
So what are the possible ramifications of an accelerated schedule? I know that many species of migratory birds will time their arrival to coincide with the appearance, or emergence of a particular prey species. Orioles, for instance, spend their winters in the tropics, where there is no clue as to what events transpire in the north. Day length, the position of the sun in the tropical sky, and other environmental conditions provide information that will help orioles determine when it is time to head to the breeding grounds.
This may be thrown out of whack this year, because while the position of the sun has not changed, the warm weather and early start to spring here in the north may have the birds out of synch with their environment. Orioles usually arrive when the apple trees are in bloom and may time this arrival to the emergence of leaves and the sudden abundance of insects. If things get started early because of the warm weather, orioles might find this a difficult year for breeding, because hungry chicks will appear after the superabundance of insects has subsided a bit.
Or maybe not. You see, that’s the problem with this kind of thing. Predicting what may or may not happen is not as easy as collecting data and figuring out what happened three years after the fact. You need baseline data to compare to the “out-of-synch” data, and then you need to analyze the hell out of it. Then, the results may not be particularly conclusive and the giant question mark might remain in place.
Keep your eyes peeled and perhaps even consider keeping a little notebook with observations. Citizen science is undervalued, but I believe it to be an invaluable source of data that can help us look at the past and help to predict the future. You can make 2016 your first year as a contributing member of this valuable team by simply turning off the TV, grabbing a pencil, and walking outside to jot down your observations.
Bill Danielson has worked as a naturalist for 20 years. In that time, he has been a national park ranger, a wildlife biologist and a field researcher. He currently works as a high school physics and biology teacher. His Speaking of Nature column runs weekly in The Recorder, except for the first Monday of each month, which is when his Kids and Critters column for young readers appears. To contact Bill, or to learn more about his writing, visit www.speakingofnature.com. Like Speaking of Nature on Facebook.