Horse Meadows Knoll, whose trailhead is off Sherry Road, was quiet and still. The cloudless sky was an intense blue, and the long shadows cast by the trees onto snow were a pale lavender color. The rushing streams were shiny black with flashes of white where the light hit, while large outcrops of black rock were shedding their cover of snow.
The temperature hovered at freezing. The snow was opaque and becoming compressed with its own weight. Small, dry patches of orange-brown leaves were visible where the snow had sublimated, its moisture having evaporated in the wind and sun.
Even though it was the quiet time of day, signs of activity were evident along the trail. At the start, I saw a narrow line of exposed earth where a vole, perhaps, had intended to survive the winter in the subnivean zone, that insulated environment between the ground and the top of the snowpack. In such an environment, the animal is hidden from prey and can tunnel through the snow collecting grasses and leaf litter for food.
But because foxes and owls have acute hearing, they are able to detect the sounds of life under the snow pack, so maybe this tunnel had been crushed by the pouncing of a fox or the landing of an owl with outstretched talons. Or maybe a human walker had crushed it.
Lacking the adaptations of the forest animals, such as claws, I was grateful for the traction provided by the microspikes on my boots as I continued on. My hiking poles provided extra balance over bumpy, snow-covered roots and rocks.
I paused at a little round hole with debris scattered at the opening. Was the hole made by an animal digging into the snow or by an animal digging itself out from an underground burrow? I’ve been seeing a few chipmunks, aroused from their deep sleep in their burrows. On the other hand, sleek, short-legged weasels can invade burrows and capture a dormant animal.
Departing the Horse Meadows Knoll land, I crossed a stream and walked up a rise into Muller land owned by the Harvard Conservation Trust. In the distance I could see some smooth ice. When I got close to it, I could see that it was an area where a stream widened out.
A little farther on, I saw the prints of a flock of turkeys. Their prints were confined to an area under the trees. Maybe the turkeys roost in the trees at night, safe from ground predators.
When I returned to the intersection with the main trail, I saw a depression in the ground, at the base of the upland territory I had just walked. There, most of the snow was gone, and a large area of dried leaves was exposed. And further on was another leafy depression.
My GPS indicated that these dry depressions were two vernal pools, certified by the Natural Heritage and Endangered Species program of the Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife. Even without being alerted by the GPS, I may have questioned why such a large area was without the snow that, on this cold day, covered all the surrounding land; maybe, I wondered, the fungi and bacteria in decomposing leaf matter generated heat.
For certification, it is essential that the vernal pool is ephemeral—dry for a period of time—and free of fish. Those two qualities are crucial to the life cycles of those species whose very presence there is also a defining indicator of a vernal pool: the wood frog, the spadefoot frog, spotted salamanders, the rare blue-spotted salamander, the marbled salamander, the Jefferson salamander, and two species of fairy shrimp.
I stared at the shallow leaf-covered depression, imagining the pool filling up with rainwater, ground water, and snow melt. I imagined a rainy night when the temperatures would be above 40 degrees. Then, tiny subterranean creatures would begin their annual migration down from the uplands to mate in their birthplace, the vernal pool. I visualized the waiting eggs in the pool coming to life. I imagined I could hear the forest filled with the sounds of frogs. I could picture other animals, not just the amphibians and invertebrates who begin life in the pool, but also the reptiles, mammals, and birds who would come to the pool looking for water and food.
Margaret Kusner is a retired middle school art teacher, a lifelong artist, and a wandering walker who considers herself to be a part of nature and is happy to write about it.
For more information
- “A Field Guide to the Animals of Vernal Pools” by Leo P. Kenney and Matthew R. Burne.
- Massachusetts Division of Fisheries and Wildlife talks about the wildlife found in vernal pools.
- The Vernal Pool Association shares information, images, and stories about these seasonal depressional wetlands at www.vernalpool.org.
- “Naturally Curious” by Mary Holland provides a colorful description of the spotted salamanders’ mating ritual, starting on page 20. (Trafalgar Square Books, North Pomfret, Vermont, 2019.)
