Natural Resources

I can no more easily imagine a summer evening without bats overhead than the night sky devoid of stars…

On our small New Hampshire farm, we’ve always watched bats feeding over pastures and the adjacent Lane River wetlands. Now the specter of a rapid regional collapse of bat …

We lost two newborn lambs that night. The earliest lambs born on our farm that spring were suddenly dead—the first time we’d ever lost sheep. The veterinarian said we’d just been lucky so far. Three lambing seasons without a bad experience? We were overdue for heartache.

While the local …

There’s a thunderstorm brewing – I can feel it.

Anticipation builds on a sultry, early summer afternoon. The air is thick but an approaching cold front promises relief from oppressive heat and humidity. 

By late-afternoon, thunderheads billow like the tall sails of galleons …

Falling leaves work on my soul. I can't quite describe it...

I've discovered at least four essential fall foliage truths, wise autumnal advice I'm more than willing to share…

Each year leaves will change color to a greater or lesser degree before falling. But only tourists …

On the eve of the first measurable December snowfall, a time of thin ice and rattling beech leaves, I joined three colleagues on a rugged bushwhack to a remote corner of a Society-owned forest reservation. It's not often that the conservation business is as tangible as it was that early winter …

The crew grew quiet as we approached the nest. They whispered and walked slowly, carefully scanning the tree tops overhead and behind them. At the snap of a dry twig underfoot, a goshawk leaped from the rim of its nest and screamed "Kak! Kak! Kak!" as it circled above the pines. I froze …

 

By May, twilight arrives late. From the high and lonesome expanse of Interstate-89, evening alpenglow illuminates a flank of Mount Kearsarge, changing every second from yellow to gold and now pink, like an ember fallen from a fire. Purple shadows climb the lower slopes as the sun …

By mid-summer, I noticed a faint yellow tinge to the foliage of aged local sugar maples lining our dirt road. I despaired at the possibility of some decline in their health. With more than ample rainfall, how could the maple foliage not be lush, deep green?

Closer inspection revealed …

Something Wild: What's Good For The Goose

November's gray skies carry the last of the migrating Canada geese, graceful ribbons of true wild Canadians on a long-distance flight. These aren't the New England locals, flying low from golf course to cornfield.