nature

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The eye of the beholder

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” So said Margaret Wolfe Hungerford in Molly Bawn (1878). Her sentiment applies quite well to one of my favorite walks, out of the many on Cape Cod.

This one is easy to reach from either end, borderline accessible, and close to my home. But few people would single it out as an outstanding nature walk.

Narrow section along Snake Creek Rd

Snake Creek Road

The walk is along Snake Creek Road, aka Way 672, in Wellfleet. The road was once passable by large vehicles, but due to downed trees, not any more. It’s best suited to walkers, brave runners, and the occasional horse rider.

The road is maintained simply by its use. There are no trail markers, maps, or guide booklets. Some parts are wide and clear; others remind the visitor to wear protection against twisted branches and roots, prickly thorns, and poison ivy. Conditions change with the weather and as tree branches fall across the path.

Canoe launch, showing Phragmites australis

Unlike many trails I’ve enjoyed, Snake Creek Road is not an official National Seashore trail. Nor is it a trail of the Wellfleet Conservation Trust, Massachusetts Audubon, or some other such organization. There’s a road sign, but nothing to indicate that you can, with a little difficulty, walk the 3/4 miles, but not drive it.

There are about ten houses on a bluff above the road. You might be able to hear people on a deck talking, but usually they aren’t close enough for you to hear what they’re saying. Similarly, you’ll be far enough away that they probably won’t see or hear you.

Flora

Snake Creek Road is a great place to explore the question:

Which invasive plant would win if we put them all together in one place?

Snake Creek Road sign surrounded by Rosa multiflora

Here you’ll find bramble, poison ivy, Virginia creeper, autumn olive, both bush and vine honeysuckle, phragmites, broadleaf dock, buckthorn, garlic mustard, oriental bittersweet, black locust, Japanese knotweed, bamboo, and much more. There are also magnificent spreads of multiflora rose blooming in various colors.

In one section there’s a large stand of lily of the valley, both alongside the trail and on the walkway itself. Like many of its partners in the ecosystem, it’s invasive, toxic, medicinal, good for wildlife, and beautiful.

We’re taught to resist invasives and to stamp them out at all costs. Given the choice, I’d prefer a healthy native plant ecosystem. But I can’t help but be in awe of the signs of life bursting through, without the need of harmful fertilizer, herbicides, or constant tending.

Lily of the valley (Convallaria majalis)
Brambles (Rubus)

Besides, there are also many native plants along Snake Creek, including moss, bayberry, bearberry, beach plum, mayapple, reed grass, black cherry, bear oak, fir, pitch pine, and white pine, to name just a few. There are introduced plants, such as Norway spruce as well.

Best of all, it’s easy to find many prime examples of lichen, including green shield, fishnet, and reindeer lichen. They steadfastly refuse to be placed in a simple category like “flora” or “fauna,” preferring “mycota.” They’re accompanied by wood ears and the underground fungi with their occasional spore-bearing fruiting bodies.

Black oak (Quercus velutina)
40-foot Eastern red cedar (Juniperus virginiana)
The Iris sibirica? pool with irises just beginning to bloom on the little islands

Fauna

Snake Creek is home to all sorts of animals as well––birds, reptiles, mammals, and countless invertebrates. The creek (aka Herring River), despite its degradation from being dammed, is home to various fish, such a the eponymous herring, frogs, turtles, and even river otters.

Northern black racer (Coluber c. constrictor). Image from Connecticut Department of Energy & Environmental Protection

On the land side there are coyotes, rabbits, fox, snakes, squirrels, chipmunks, mice, and voles. In addition to many songbirds, I’ve seen swans and great blue herons close up, ospreys and hawks overhead. And many crows. Woodpeckers enjoy the many damaged trees.

When I walk leisurely, I feel that I’m inside a marvelous habitat space like those in some modern zoos. But this is one that’s self-maintaining and ever-changing.

A couple of days ago, as the weather had warmed a little, I almost stepped on a 4-5 foot black racer sunning itself on the trail.

I’ve been especially intrigued to follow the evolution of two dens along the trail. I believe they’re made by coyotes, which I’ve heard at night, but they could be for foxes. Recently they’ve deteriorated without repair, suggesting that the canine families have moved on.

This beholder

I can’t say that Snake Creek is the best 3/4 mile walk anywhere. It’s rather flat and straight, and there are too many signs of degradation from human activity. It will also be changing in a major way soon, with the restoration of the Herring River tidal flow. I expect it to be inundated at high tide after that. It will be a salt marsh habitat and more of a mud flat or at low tide.

Great blue heron? Or sign of human presence?

Moreover, the possibility of getting lost is one of my top criteria for a good walk, and that’s very hard to do on a straight line path with a bluff on one side and a river on the other.

But a walk from one end to the other and back has never failed to yield surprises and contentment that can be found in few other ways.

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Maintaining trails

[Cross-posted on Wellfleet Conservation Trust]

A friend commented that he had done a lot of hiking and walking on nature trails, but that he’d only recently become aware of the many decisions and the work it took to build and maintain a trail. He would be interested to see what we do with Wellfleet Conservation Trust trails.

We plan these trails to entail minimal destruction to the environment. They should be obvious so that walkers can stay on them without creating social trails through the woods. But we like them to be as unobtrusive as possible. This requires a balance of engineered and natural features.

Visitors from Nepal helping to repair a roped off area at Herring River Overlook

Among other things, we cut overhanging branches that pose a hazard to walkers, but leave any vegetation higher than a Celtics player, unless it’s in danger of falling. We make the trail wide enough for anyone to walk easily, but usually require a single file. We place trail blaze arrows at confusing junctions, but try not to use more than absolutely necessary.

In some places we’ve added stakes and ropes to discourage off trail walking. As enticing as that bushwhacking may be for some, it can be very destructive for the land. For example, at the Herring River Overlook trail, walking down the dune towards the river kills fragile lichen, moss, bearberry, mayapple, violets, sea oats, and other vegetation. That in turn can lead to serious dune erosion.

National Park Service plea, too often ignored

The ropes are easily bypassed, but we don’t want to mar the sites with massive barriers. We have to trust that responsible visitors will recognize the message and stay on the trail.

In many parks today we see the sign that “vegetation grows by the inch but dies by the foot.” That’s especially true on Cape Cod. Tenacious plants can survive despite salty winds off the sea, sandy, nutrient poor soil, and hungry wildlife, but only if we’re on their side.

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The tree of life

About 14 years ago, Mojgan Momeni was earning her Master’s degree in Library and Information Science at the University of Illinois. That was the beginning of a saga both tragic and renewing, one involving several people and linking over time. It reminds us of the importance of connecting with nature and others.

I invited Mojgan to share what happened. What follows is the story in her own words:

The Japanese maple today in front of the iSchool building

Last month, I came across a stunning photo on LinkedIn of a Japanese maple tree with bright red leaves under the afternoon sun at the School of Information Science. I had been curious for years if the tree was still alive. This was important to me because I had planted it in 2009 in memory of my classmate Yingbo Zhou, who tragically passed away following a hit-and-run car accident on an icy freeway.

Yingbo Zhou

Jill Gengler, Director of Alumni Affairs at the School of Information Sciences, took the shot and shared it. She informed me that the tree had been officially turned into a memorial tree with a plaque (the first bilingual marker on campus). Thanks to the efforts of Professor Kate Williams, Yingbo’s tree is now an official University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign memorial tree. I am incredibly grateful!

I was also deeply moved by Yingbo’s parents, who gave me a gift as a gesture of appreciation during their summer visit.

I completed my Master’s degree from GSLIS (Graduate School of Library and Information Science) in May 2009. This experience was a significant turning point in my life, and I felt a sense of purpose and direction. That’s why I wanted to express my gratitude by giving back to the school somehow. As a gardening enthusiast, I purchased some perennials and bulbs to plant in a few areas in the school front yard and a young Japanese maple tree. After finishing the design and planting, I dedicated the tree to Yingbo.

The tree in 2009

Planting is one thing, but watering it during an Illinois summer can be challenging. After graduating, my student ID expired, and I could not access the building. Consequently, I had to drive to the new garden daily with water containers from home. I would sit on the stairs hoping that someone would exit the building so I could refill the containers. I felt honored when Chip brought a group of visitors to tour my garden, and shared his positive feedback about it on his blog.

Long story short, I got a job at a software company and relocated to California. I had been curious about the garden and tree for over a decade until I saw Jill’s post by chance.

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Rejuvenation

For Herring River Currents (Friends of Herring River)

Please come a little closer,
I’m feeble now,
and my voice is weak.

Some tell me that I smell,
And my bottom is slush and sludge.

It wasn’t always this way,
I was something once,
not mighty like the Big Muddy,
or broad like the River Sea.

But in my youth,
a time of many millennia, I might add,
I was full of life.

Swans, herons, ospreys, and ducks all cherished me,
Otters played in my waters,
And fish, oh the fish,
They swam up me to spawn.

People harvested oysters from my depths,
Ships plied my waters
and netted massive loads of fish.

Best of all, I was connected to the great ocean beyond,
twice a day washing in the beautiful salt water.

But while I was still young,
yes, many millennia,
I had a misfortune:
They choked me.

They said it was for my own good,
fewer mosquitoes,
land for houses,
tourists.

But I aged very fast,
My arteries clogged,
I couldn’t cleanse myself,
My fauna and flora friends abandoned me.

They said I was sick,
and could never recover on my own.
I desperately need an operation,

It would be massive,
it would take time,
there would be side effects.

But it will bring back the river I once was,
it will restore my land, water, and spirit,
it will make me whole again.

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Whale Walk

Center for Coastal Studies

The first North Atlantic right whale mother and calf pair has arrived in Cape Cod Bay. The Right Whale Ecology Program team from the Center for Coastal Studies (CCS) sighted the pair on March 18––Porcia, a 21-year-old right whale, and her newborn calf. They were first seen in late December off the coast of Georgia.

Yesterday, Susan and I were fortunate go on a Whale Walk sponsored by the Center. It turned out to not much of a walk because whales came close to shore next to the pavilion where we were supposed to start. They were relatively easy to see as they fed at the surface, so we had a sort of stationary walk.

We learned a useful tip from Jesse Mechling who led the group: If you see a large black rock moving across the water, it’s probably a right whale. There’s no evidence for black rocks off Cape Cod moving in that way.

Jesse showing baleen that right whales use to capture their principal food source, copepods

The North Atlantic right whales are critically endangered. There are fewer than 340 individuals left and only 80 breeding females. The principal factors in their decline are shipping and entanglement from fishing gear. They’re called “urban whales” because they’re trying to survive off the shore of dense human populations with some of the most active shipping and fishing in the world.

They’re also affected by global warming, which results in warming of the oceans, shifts in the populations of copepods, alterations of the feeding patterns of the whales, coming into the way of new harms, etc. These issues are discussed at our annual Wellfleet harbor conference.

Cape Cod Bay from the Herring Cove pavilion in Provincetown

I have very mixed feelings right now. On the one hand I feel incredibly fortunate to benefit from organizations such as the CCS and their public engagement programs. I love being able to go a short distance to see relatively unpolluted beaches and magnificent creatures such as the right whales, directly from shore.

But on the other hand, I feel shame knowing that my generation is responsible for the destruction of these whales and other wildlife, and the habitats that they need to survive.

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Nuthatch ducks

Our rain chain goes through beautiful transformations as the water freezes or thaws, with differences for flash freezing versus slow, and with varying amounts of snow on the ice.

As the ice melts it makes tinkling sounds like a tiny wind chime.

I just watched a couple of nuthatches swimming in the barrel at the bottom. They took to the (freezing) water like tiny ducks.

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DNA ancestry

Like many others I’ve been curious about DNA matching, especially with regards to my own ancestry. Could a simple swab tell me where my ancestors lived?

Where am I from?

Faroe sheep above the town of Sumba, Faroe Islands

I asked this question of FamilyTreeDNA, one of many such services. Using a 12 marker test, it turns out that I’m 4.6% Irish and 2.5% New Zealander. But I’m also 2.4% from Trinidad and Tobago and, surprise… 12.5 % Faroe Islands. All of these numbers are higher than for the US (1.1%), even when including Native American (.6%).

If I wanted to have a simple narrative of my ancestry, these numbers don’t seem to help. I suppose I could say that my main origin is Faroese, with a little Irish, but my ancestors must have cavorted in New Zealand and the Caribbean as well.

The situation worsens when I use a different number of markers, Y-DNA, mitochondrial DNA, haplotrees, or other measures. It’s messy.

The jigsaw puzzle of ancestry

It may be disappointing to hear, but for anyone who has similar questions, the underlying science is deeply flawed. That’s true even for someone whose data seems more definitive than mine.

These tests are interpreted to fill in a jigsaw puzzle of who we are; 12.5 % Faroe Islands would be a big chunk of mine. I’d be a little bit of this and a little bit of that, an admixture. This is a term used to describe the process of gene flow between distinct populations. It can be fun to see the scores, but as applied to human populations, the whole idea is wrong.

It relies on assumptions of homogeneity among people living within national boundaries, mapping of ethnicities onto countries and of races onto continents, and racialist assumptions about pure categories. The idea that we can just fill in the jigsaw puzzle of our ancestry doesn’t work.

We’re not admixtures

Kostas Kampourakis and Erik Peterson discuss the science of this in a recent article published in Genetics: The racist origins, racialist connotations, and purity assumptions of the concept of ‘admixture’ in human evolutionary genetics (2023).

The article shows how admixture of the kind an ancestry detective would like requires the existence of pure or unadmixed categories. 

There are two big assumptions:

(1) particular populations existed before the colonization era, have not undergone significant admixture, and have maintained their genetic variation.

(2) the people included in the reference datasets have four grandparents all born in the same country, implying they are somehow pure representatives of that country.

But these assumptions are ahistorical and regularly violated. They don’t account for migrations due to colonization, wars, or plagues. And archeological evidence shows that humans were migrating around the globe long before the age of colonization. 

In addition to being a problem in the field of genetics, admixture leads to people saying things like “I just learned that I’m a big part Faroese, with a little Irish and Caribbean thrown in!” which is nonsense scientifically.

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Basal slippage

Water flow under ice on the trail

Yesterday we walked part of the way on the trail around Sutherland Pond in the Ooms Conservation Area in Old Chatham, NY, The path was treacherous because of the melting ice, so we didn’t make it the whole way. But we were mesmerized by the patterns of water flowing under the ice,

I assume this process is similar to the basal slippage seen for glaciers in temperate zones. Because of human-caused global warming, the ice melts underneath. Then the remaining ice slides on the water layer, leading to more rapid loss of the glacier.