The Forest Society's mission includes conserving land that supports New Hampshire's native animals and plants, so that wildlife remains a part of our everyday world. Visit this page to explore stories, projects and stewardship related to wildlife and habitat.
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 …
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.
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.
You know how New Hampshire likes to be first in the nation when it comes to politics? Well, it turns out we’re stragglers in another category: sandhill cranes. They’ve been nesting in our neighboring states of Maine, Vermont and Massachusetts, but they never went granite until this year.
Sometimes coyotes make such a commotion that the hair on the back of your neck snaps to attention—a hard-wired reaction we share with other mammals. So raucus is the noise that you imagine there must be a vast pack of coyotes, howling like a frenzied mob of ravenous Black Friday bargain-hunters waiting for Wal-Mart to open.