A full moon rising
Photo by Kent McFarland
With November comes a stronger nip to the morning air and the rushed activity of wildlife either preparing for their winter stay or leaving Vermont for their winter locations. There is a sense of fall finality as the last of the deciduous trees drop their leaves. November also hails some of Vermont's winter migrants, coming just in time to catch the first flakes. Learn more in our Field Guide to November.
By Brian Kron
As cold weather sets in, ectothermic species, such as Vermont’s native amphibians and reptiles, are under pressure to find a good spot to overwinter. Where to wait out the cold can be a chilling decision, as the wrong choice can mean the difference between life and death. So where do amphibians and reptiles go during the colder months?
The answer varies from species to species, although all brumate to some degree. This hunkering down is similar to hibernation in mammals; individuals stop eating, slow their metabolism, and rest. Some remain dormant throughout the winter while others wake up on warmer days to drink or forage.
Many of our region’s native frogs, such as the Green Frog (Lithobates clamitans), bury themselves in the leaf litter or sediment at the bottom of ponds and streams. Their cousins, the Bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus), Pickerel Frog (Lithobates palustris), Northern Leopard Frog (Lithobates pipiens), and Mink Frog (Lithobates septentrionalis), follow their lead with the same strategy. Similarly, aquatic turtles burrow into the mud to escape winter’s coldest temperatures.
Other frogs, such as the American Toad (Anaxyrus americanus), Northern Spring Peeper (Pseudacris crucifer), and the Wood Frog (Lithobates sylvaticus), will attempt to find a path underground or a deep layer of forest leaf litter to keep them warm enough through the winter months, while Gray Tree Frogs (Hyla versicolor) (along with the Wood Frog), produce special compounds to keep their organs and cells safe from freezing—even as ice forms in the intercellular spaces.
Similar to some of their frog relatives, most salamanders burrow into leaf litter, rotting logs, or more commonly, deep into the soil. They sometimes utilize old rodent burrows to protect themselves from extreme cold. Northern Dusky Salamanders (Desmognathus fuscus) and our mole salamanders (Ambystoma species) burrow almost two feet underground and may never brumate at all, because they can reach depths that maintain a temperature high enough to stay active. This same burrowing behavior is also utilized by Eastern Box Turtles (Terrapene carolina carolina) and some of Vermont’s snakes, while snakes will also take advantage of underground chambers, called hibernacula, found in rodent burrows, caves, and rocky crevices. Want to help? Check out this guide to learn how to create a hibernaculum in your backyard. And discover more about the burrowing behavior of mole salamanders with this Research Note by VCE co-founder and Conservation Biologist Steve Faccio.
By Megan Massa
Winter is a time of scarcity. Gone is the glut of green caterpillars that fed birds through spring and summer. Berries ripen and slowly dwindle as the days grow shorter. In these lean times, birds must rely on seeds, berries, and any lingering insects sheltering under bark. Finding these resources is a major challenge that requires resilience, and a little help from friends.
A mixed-species flock is a group of multiple birds of different species traveling together, looking for food and keeping watch for predators. These flocks form in fall as birds finish breeding and stop defending their territories to instead roam in search of limited resources. In the Northeast, Black-capped Chickadees form the nucleus of these winter flocks, welcoming 10 or so juvenile chickadees from multiple families. They are joined by many other species including White-breasted and Red-breasted Nuthatches, Golden-crowned Kinglets, Tufted Titmice, and Downy Woodpeckers.
These winter flocks contain complex social relationships. Chickadees lead the flock’s movements and act as lookouts, sounding alarm calls to signal potential threats. The familiar “chick-a-dee-dee” call encodes information about how close, large, and dangerous a potential threat is, and other species have learned to listen in and respond to these calls. When a chickadee sounds the alarm, flock members of many species can join up and “mob” their foes. Young birds learn how to identify and respond to predators by example during these mobbing events. Meanwhile, young chickadees form pair-bonds within the flock, preparing to establish territories of their own in the spring.
Next time you’re out on a winter walk and hear that unmistakable “dee-dee-dee,” you can observe the hidden social world of birds working together to survive. Community science platforms like eBird allow anyone to contribute data on which species appear together. By entering your observations, you’re helping scientists understand how these complex relationships get birds through the winter.
So grab your binoculars and join the flock!
By Meg Madden
Late October to early November marks the beginning of stick season in Vermont, a transitional time between the glory of fall and the first snowflakes of winter. The monotone shades of bare trees against gray skies can be a bit of a letdown after October’s flamboyant pageantry of blazing red, orange, and yellow foliage. Thankfully, despite the chilly temperatures, some particularly cold-hardy mushrooms can persist—and even thrive—extending mushroom season well into November.
Hen of the Woods (Grifola frondosa), a choice edible species of polypore, is weakly parasitic on oak and maple. Look for them around the base of these trees from September until hard frost. If you find a “hen tree,” note its location because it can produce several mushrooms per season for many years. The shaggy light brown fruiting bodies, resembling a rather rumpled bird, are made up of whorls of spoon-shaped rosettes arising from a thick, white base. Hen of the Woods are impressively large mushrooms, typically 12–20 in. wide and weighing 10–15 lbs. Some gargantuan specimens can reach epic proportions—as large as 40 in. across and weighing up to 50 lbs!
Yellowfoot Chanterelles (Craterellus tubaeformis) really shine at this time of year. Also known simply as “winter mushrooms” due to their habit of fruiting late into the season, they are not true chanterelles but are more closely related to Black Trumpets (Craterellus fallax in the Northeast). These fungi are usually no more than 2–3 in. high. Their delicate fruiting bodies feature dull yellow to brown funnel-shaped caps and false gills—a series of forked ridges and folds that do not detach easily from the cap or stem—which run partially down their bright yellow, hollow stems. Mycorrhizal with conifers, including Eastern Hemlock, Yellowfoot Chanterelles can be found fruiting in cheerful clusters among moss and well-decayed woody debris in consistently moist, shady nooks.
Late autumn’s thick layer of fallen leaves can obscure many ground-dwelling mushrooms, making them difficult to find. Wood-inhabiting fungi, elevated above the leaf litter, can be easier to spot. Gorgeous Turkey Tail Mushrooms (Trametes versicolor), whose fruiting bodies resemble the fanned-out plumage of a strutting wild tom turkey, grow in overlapping clusters and rosettes on decaying hardwood stumps and logs. It is uncommon for one species of mushroom to display a wide range of color variations, but Turkey Tails do just that. Their species name, versicolor, actually means ‘of several colors’ and perfectly describes the vast array of hues—shades of brown, grey, lavender, and even blue—arranged in concentric bands on the mushroom’s caps. These fungi can occasionally persist year-round, and algae may colonize older specimens and tint them green. As key members of nature’s recycling crew, decomposers such as Turkey Tails play an essential role in the forest ecosystem by breaking down wood and other organic matter and releasing nutrients back into the environment where other organisms can utilize them.
By Dana Williams
The season of sticks may seem dull to naturalists who enjoy exploring the woods amid greenery and birdsong; however, the lack of distractions gives us space to look closer at what remains, like the insects that make their winter homes on sticks.
As you walk in the woods, pay attention to unusually thick twigs on shrubs or in the lower branches of trees, especially Black Cherry (Prunus serotina). A silky mass 3–4 in. long indicates the overwintering pupa of our rare silk moths, snuggly protected in the silk cocoon which gives them their name. At the forested edge of abandoned fields or streams, look for leaves still clinging to the branches of willows, aspens, or poplars (Family Salicaceae). If they’re curled into a tube held together by white silk about ½–1 in. long, you may have found the winter home of a Limenitis caterpillar that will become a Viceroy (Limenitis archippus) or Red-Spotted Admiral (Limenitis arthemis). And in gardens and fields where members of the carrot family (Family Apiaceae) grow, look for the green or brown pupa of a Black Swallowtail (Papilio polyxenes) on Dill (Anethum graveolens), Parsley (Petroselinum crispum), or Queen Anne’s Lace (Daucus carota).
You can look even closer to home for less picky species. Search under the handrail on your porch for the tucked-away white or brown pupa of a Cabbage White (Pieris rapae). Or investigate curiously curled leaves in your potted plants for the camouflaged leaf-like pupa of a Silver-spotted Skipper (Epargyreus clarus).
You may have encountered initiatives such as the Xerces Society’s Leave the Leaves campaign encouraging homeowners to avoid raking leaves in the fall to provide winter habitat for insects. You can gain a greater appreciation for the importance of winter habitat by finding insects in your yard’s fallen leaves. That’s where some butterflies overwinter as eggs, curled-up caterpillars, or pupae. Take it as a November challenge for the most intrepid naturalists.
Don’t forget to share your late fall and winter finds on iNaturalist or eButterfly. And as you dream up summer plans to convert your yard into a native pollinator paradise, check this list for butterfly host plants to enhance your exploration next year!
By Micki Colbeck
When the grays and browns of November start to get you down, look to the ferns. Easy to identify, not known to cause rashes, and rarely poisonous, the presence of ferns indicates one has entered a rich, wet forest—a place of beauty. Some weedy species thrive in sunny fields, but most ferns love the shade, for their sperm must swim in a dewdrop to find the egg. Ducking into a fern-rich wood, one enters a kingdom of mossy boulders and leaf litter—a place one might expect to see the Hobbit homes of Tolkien myth. The biodiversity mapping initiative iNaturalist lists 81 distinct species of fern in Vermont, but knowing only a key dozen will make you an expert in your local forest. The placement of sori, which house the sporangia, is key to identification. The intricacy of the fronds is another key trait. Do they grow in persistent clumps or individually with underground rhizomes? Slicing through the lower stem (or stipe) for a look at the vascular bundles can help you place the fern in its family or genus.
The evergreen ferns are leathery enough to photosynthesize throughout winter. The widespread Christmas Fern (Polystichum acrostichoides) has been gathered as holiday greens by European settlers and used for various medicines by Indigenous peoples. It’s also on the late winter menu for hungry grouse and deer. The fronds are dimorphic (either sterile or fertile), and the individual pinnae look somewhat like stockings hung by the chimney. Fertile fronds grow on the ends of the evergreen sterile fronds. Smaller and somewhat shriveled up by November, the backs of these fertile pinnae are covered with brown sori.
Forests blessed with acidic boulders enjoy Polypodium virginianum, or Rock Polypody. Growing on the tops of boulders, they often resemble mops of hair. The little evergreen fern is made even more eye-catching by the round puffy orange sori on the backs of the pinnae.
Some Dryopteris species of wood ferns are evergreen. Dry is Greek for wood, and pteron, for feather. The two common locally are Dryopteris intermedia and Dryopteris marginalis, the Intermediate Woodfern and Marginal Woodfern. They are the two lacy evergreen ferns we find throughout winter, with intermediate more lacy than marginal. The sporangia have mostly flung their spores to the winds by winter, but if you find any that remain, they’ll be in the middle of the leaf on D. intermedia and on the margins of the leaf on D. marginalis.
One must climb cliffs and talus slopes to find the Fragrant Woodfern, Dryopteris fragrans. Its long, thin, lacy evergreen fronds are fragrant when crushed. Remember the dark green treasures close to the forest floor when heading out into the woods this fall in need of some botanizing.
Many thanks to the writers of these columns. I enjoyed your insightful articles that shone light on these lesser known realms/happenings/marvels. Thanks, too, for the great photos. A special thanks to Kent McFarland for his lead photo of the moon rising on his Fair Farland.