Answering Your Tick Questions

By Shyloh Favreau, Extension Diagnostic Service Program Manager

It is often thought that winter brings relief from tick issues as the weather gets colder and there are less grasses growing. But ticks can remain active year-round, especially in our warmer winters due to climate change. Natural Resources Steward Jennifer Montgomery (’19) took an opportunity to pose some questions to Diagnostic Service Program Manager Shyloh Favreau about how ticks play into your landscape planning and interaction.

1. Are brush piles or wood piles in the yard an issue in supporting thriving tick populations?

Having a wood pile or brush pile away from the house or in a low traffic area of the yard is recommended. Stack wood neatly in a dry, sunny area, which is less favorable to ticks, and take steps to discourage rodents from nesting there, since rodents are hosts for ticks. Here in New Hampshire, where many people rely on wood stoves, eliminating wood piles or woodsheds is not realistic. Keeping them away from high traffic areas and, when possible, away from the home can help reduce opportunities for tick encounters. 

2. Do our deer tick and dog tick precautions apply equally to the other ticks heading our way?

Yes. Most of the precautions we take for deer ticks and dog ticks, including using repellents, wearing protective clothing, doing regular tick checks on ourselves and our pets, and removing ticks promptly, are useful against other tick species as well. Different ticks can carry different diseases and can have some variation in habitat preferences, so the specific risks vary, but the basic prevention strategies remain the same.

3. Does leaving the leaves increase the risk of ticks in yards?

Leaving the leaves can provide favorable habitat for ticks, particularly in cool, moist areas. If tick reduction is the primary goal, removing leaf litter is the more protective approach, especially around the house, paths, play areas, and other high traffic areas. For those who want to leave the leaves, focusing leaf removal on the areas where people spend the most time can reduce opportunities for tick encounters.

4. Is permethrin still a powerful protector?

Permethrin treated clothing is still a well-supported tool for reducing tick exposure. Both the CDC and EPA support its use, and the EPA has reviewed efficacy data showing that factory treated clothing is effective against ticks. Pretreated clothing and gear can be purchased, or clothing can be treated according to product instructions. It is an additional layer of protection rather than complete protection, so it works best alongside other measures such doing regular tick checks. As with any repellent or insecticide, it is important to follow all product guidelines, label directions, and follow CDC and EPA recommendations.

5. Are there effective strategies to keep ticks in the woods rather than in our yards?

While you cannot create a completely tick free boundary between the woods and your yard, you can create a buffer zone that makes the transition less favorable to ticks. A commonly recommended approach is a roughly three-foot-wide strip of dry material such as wood chips, gravel, or mulch between the woods and lawn, patios, or play areas, along with keeping the edge relatively open and sunny.

6. Is tick reduction and mitigation compatible with having pollinator focused, wild tending flower beds?

Yes. Tick reduction can be compatible with pollinator focused, wild tending flower beds, but there is a real tradeoff. Practices that can reduce ticks, such as removing leaf litter, reducing dense vegetation, mowing more frequently, and using pesticides, can also disturb important pollinator habitat and floral food resources. Ultimately, decisions should be based on what is best for you and your family. If tick prevention is the highest priority, you may choose to take more extensive tick safe landscape measures. If having a robust, pollinator friendly backyard is a priority, it is important to recognize that some of those same natural features can provide favorable tick habitat. In that situation, practicing personal tick bite prevention when spending time in your pollinator-friendly yard is important. 

Clean Windshields and Webs – And the Bugs That Aren’t There

By Jennifer Montgomery, NRS ’19

Photo by Jennifer Montgomery.

When I was a kid growing up in North Dakota, one of the norms of highway drives was getting a windshield full of squashed bugs. Everybody knew that you didn’t use the washer fluid and the wipers—that would just create a smeary mess. Every gas station had buckets of soapy water with good scrubber/squeegee combos at every pump.

I was reminiscing about that with a conservation-forward friend recently: How everyone knew you didn’t use your wipers, and rather you got out and scrubbed your windshield regularly. And then we lamented the reality today. You can drive at highway speeds for hundreds of miles and barely need to clean a single bug off the windshield.

In one sense, it could be great to know that we’re not wiping out masses of insects through our national commitment to traveling by car. But it’s not great if the reason is that there just aren’t many insects to hit.

This was driven home to me this summer at our New Hampshire home. An enterprising spider spun an intricate web across a pair of motion-activated floodlights mounted on the corner of our house. It was an amazing piece of engineering, and in years past I would have expected the spider to eat well from the insects drawn to the light (a yellow light, but a light nonetheless).

But the web was always empty. Night after night, I checked. Nothing.

I looked again recently after several days of high winds, and the web had finally torn away from its moorings. It had caught a leaf. That was about it.

I wish I could dismiss these as a couple of meaningful-only-to-me personal observations. The evidence makes that difficult.

Scientists have been documenting declines in insect populations for years, although the picture is more complicated than the phrase “insect apocalypse” suggests. Species and populations vary tremendously by place and over time, and we don’t have anything resembling a worldwide insect census. But evidence from many places points toward substantial losses in insect abundance, diversity, and biomass.

We have evidence remarkably close to home. University of New Hampshire researchers used museum specimens and historical records to examine about 150 years of the state’s bumble bee history. They found that the golden northern bumble bee had declined by 96 percent, the yellow-banded bumble bee by 71 percent, and the half-black bumble bee by 42 percent. The rusty-patched bumble bee, now federally endangered, had not been collected in New Hampshire since 1993 and appeared to be locally extinct.  

And back in the Dakotas, where my windshield memories began, the landscape has changed, too. The Northern Great Plains provide crucial pollinator habitat and have historically supported an enormous share of the country’s commercial honeybee colonies. But U.S. Geological Survey researchers documented substantial grassland loss in North and South Dakota alongside increases in corn and soybean acreage—replacing diverse bee-friendly landscapes with cropland that provides far less forage, often stretching across tens of thousands of acres. I remember those landscapes so differently—hayfields full of clover, blue seas of flowering alfalfa, yellow sunflowers for acres , and golden small grains.

Researchers are documenting the vast changes in landscapes, climate, and bumble bees there. One study found that bumble bee abundance at a North Dakota rangeland site collapsed by 98 percent during the severe 2021 drought and had still not returned to its pre-drought level three years later. Another statewide study published this year found very low genetic diversity in two widespread bumble bee species—a potential constraint on their ability to adapt to future environmental change and emerging threats.

Why does all of this matter? Pollination is the obvious answer, but it’s only part of it. Insects are woven throughout food webs. They feed birds, bats, fish, amphibians, and other animals. They decompose dead material, cycle nutrients, control other insect populations, and help keep soils and ecosystems functioning. Losing insects doesn’t mean simply having fewer butterflies to admire. It means pulling threads from a much larger ecological fabric.

So what might we do in our own yards and gardens?

Some of the answers are wonderfully undramatic. Grow a diversity of native plants that provide food through the seasons. Reduce pesticide use. Reduce unnecessary outdoor lighting. Switch to warm yellow or amber lights, ideally on motion sensors. Let some dead wood remain. And—one of my favorites—don’t be quite so tidy.

The Xerces Society’s ⁠“Leave the Leaves” guidance explains that many butterflies, moths, bees, beetles, and other invertebrates spend the winter in fallen leaves, hollow stems, flower heads, bark, and other plant debris. A luna moth may overwinter in a cocoon disguised among dead leaves. Native bees may spend winter inside a hollow stem. When we rake, shred, mow, blow, and haul away all that material in the fall, we may be hauling away next year’s insects with it.  

Except, of course, there’s a complication: ticks.

Those of us in New England have good reason to think twice about creating moist, protected tick habitat everywhere we walk and work. And the problem is changing. The CDC’s latest surveillance map shows the aggressive lone star tick, associated with alpha-gal syndrome, now established in parts of southern New Hampshire. “Established” has a specific meaning: Researchers have collected at least six ticks of one life stage, or more than one life stage, in a county within 12 months.  

If that sounds like an abstract future concern, consider Martha’s Vineyard. An extraordinary recent ⁠Los Angeles Times report on the spread of lone star ticks describes an explosion of positive alpha-gal tests on Martha’s Vineyard. Alpha-gal syndrome is an allergy to the alpha-gal sugar molecule found in most mammals—and mammalian meat and other mammal-derived products—which are everywhere in our lives. This allergy can develop after a lone star tick bite, and it can be life threatening for some. Martha’s Vineyard Hospital recorded just two positive alpha-gal tests in 2020; it recorded 742 in 2025 and another 692 through August of this year.  

So perhaps “leave the leaves” needs some nuance.

Fortunately, this doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing choice. Even Xerces recommends moving leaves away from places where people and pets regularly travel in tick country and concentrating them in garden beds, designated habitat areas, or deeper into wooded areas.   We can keep paths and heavily used areas open while allowing leaves, stems, native plants, and some wildness to remain elsewhere.

That strikes me as a particularly permaculture kind of answer. We don’t have to choose between a sterile landscape designed entirely around ourselves and a landscape in which we ignore legitimate human risks. We can pay attention. We can decide where habitat belongs, reduce the harms we create, and make room for other species while recognizing that ecological relationships are complicated.

I’m certainly not nostalgic for scraping dead insects off a windshield. (And may Mother Earth forgive me for my sins in that regard.) But next summer, I’d like to look up at another beautifully engineered spider web under that light and see that the spider has managed to catch a healthy dinner or two.

New England’s Forests Are in Trouble

By Phil Primack

Rot is seen on a 150-year-old beech tree in the Belmont Town Green on July 30. The tree was cut down due to beech leaf disease. David L. Ryan/Globe Staff

Phil Primack was New Hampshire’s “Outstanding Tree Farmer” in 2024. He is a Medford-based writer.

Two historic copper beech trees — one on the Belmont Town Green and the other at Saugus Iron Works National Historic Site — were felled over the summer. These iconic trees had offered shade and beauty for generations, but they were high-profile losers in an arboreal battle against invasive pests and disease that is reshaping the look and feel of the New England forest.

The pest invasion is widespread. Microscopic roundworms cause beech leaf disease, also known as BLD. The aphid-like woolly adelgid attacks hemlocks. The southern pine beetle, an aggressive bug that reached Massachusetts in 2023, threatens Cape Cod’s signature pitch pine groves. Ash trees have been nearly wiped out by yet another invasive species: the emerald ash borer.

“I do think it’s going to become more obvious that the forest is being transformed,” David Orwig, senior ecologist at Harvard Forest, the 4,000-acre ecological research area in Petersham owned by Harvard University, said in an interview. “We are losing more species, and trees are being killed off more quickly. Adelgid damage to hemlocks was rapid, but beech leaf disease could be even faster.”

The nation’s ever-increasing flow of imports may boost commerce, but all those ships also deliver unintended, six-legged consequences. Drought and other environmental factors wrought by climate change compound the creeping threats to the woods.

“Four years ago, we didn’t see BLD here and now it infects 90 percent of our beech trees,” Orwig said. “Half of our beech trees have maybe 10 leaves left on them.”

The Massachusetts Department of Conservation and Recreation’s 2025 forest health aerial survey confirms BLD’s rapid spread. In 2021, none of the state’s forest canopy was affected; just four years later, BLD had reached 21,582 acres. Not all beeches within those areas will necessarily die, but their prognosis is poor, especially since many are already weakened by beech bark disease, an insect-fungus combination.

The same damage is apparent in the 108-acre tree farm I manage in Epping, N.H. I see the tiny white dots that indicate woolly adelgid and the dark leaf striping that confirms BLD everywhere. The effect extends far beyond the loss of trees. With their thick branches, hemlocks affect the temperature of the ground, and their needles acidify the forest floor. Nutrient-rich beech nuts are a major food source for deer, bears, and other animals. Other trees will replace the lost species — black birch is proliferating in my forest — but they will alter light, temperature, and other conditions of the forest floor, which in turn impact plant, insect, and animal life.

While people like me who spend lots of time with trees are aware of what’s happening, everyone will soon notice. Eastern hemlock and beech comprised about 15 percent of the Massachusetts forest canopy in 2019, according to the US Forest Service. Without them, Robert Frost’s woods may remain lovely — but not nearly so dark and deep.

Tree species have been lost before. Billions of American chestnuts died in roughly five decades due to chestnut blight, an invasive fungus that arrived in the early 1900s. A half century later, tiny wood-boring beetles spread a fungus that devastated the American elm, a favorite street shade tree.

But the scale and spread of the current rapid, multi-species decline may be unprecedented. While some natural phenomena, like extremely cold winters, can slow the pests’ spread, researchers are also experimenting with chemical and biological controls, such as an insecticide that kills woolly adelgid. But such treatments are impractical in large forest stands, where the greater hope may lie with battling bugs. Two years ago, New Hampshire foresters released predatory beetles that feed on the adelgid into my woods. It’s too soon to know who is eating whom.

Because such biocontrols may not succeed, New Hampshire is taking proactive steps to prevent ash tree extinction. State foresters hope to protect and preserve the seeds from 100 stands of healthy, mature ashes. They are also investigating areas where most ashes have died to look for “lingering” ashes, trees that have managed to survive for genetic or other reasons. Material from these trees is then grafted to rootstock at the state forest nursery. The hope is that seeds and sprouts from healthy trees can produce a less vulnerable population.

Massachusetts does not have such an ash propagation program, according to a DCR spokesperson, though department staff regularly use biocontrols on healthy ash and hemlock, with priority given to significant areas like old growth ash trees in the Mohawk Trail area.

“You can say that nature will handle itself, and maybe it will,” said University of New Hampshire forester Greg Jordan, who helped manage my tree farm years ago as a private forester. “If you care about the forest, how do you not address a non-native invasion? In good conscience, we have to try to fight back against these things.”

Those old copper beeches in Saugus and Belmont are gone. Trees that are just sprouts today can offer similar calm and comfort to future generations — if the current one acts now.

Wildness Begins at Home

By Paula Munier, NRS ’22

In a world where our natural resources face growing threats from climate change, corporate greed, and government grift—all things that can seem beyond our control—it helps to remember that wildness begins at home. I am reminded of this today as my husband and I hike down the rough, rutted, unpaved Class Six road that leads into the forest. It’s a gloriously sunny autumn day here in Salisbury, the kind of day New England is known for, the kind of day that makes me glad to be a New Hampshirite.

The air is crisp, spots of yellow and red and gold brighten the green canopies of the trees and the only sounds are the sweet songs of the wilderness. About a mile in, we come to the trailhead for the new Sandy and Everett McLaughlin Wildlife Conservation Area, a lovely section of woods and wetlands tucked between two other conservation areas and abutting Vermetti Pond.

Today is the official opening of the Vermetti Pond Trail, a nature trail that winds its way through silver maples and yellow birches and European beeches and Eastern hemlocks and pines and all manner of wildlife to the pond, home to beavers and herons and more. The trail will be open to hikers and cross-country skiers, snowshoers, birders and nature lovers, and closed to campers, snowmobilers, ATVers, horseback riders, and hunters.

There’s a crowd gathering for the ribbon cutting.  It’s a congenial group of locals, ranging in age from a few months old to senior citizens, dressed in hiking clothes, drinking the apple cider and eating the apple cider donuts you’ll find at any self-respecting get-together in New Hampshire this time of year.

We are all here by the grace of Sandy and Everett McLaughlin. Everett is a birder who fell in love with the natural world while counting ospreys for the Audubon Society and decided to do something about preserving it. He and his wife Sandy searched for some wilderness that they could save, looking in Maine and Vermont before finding this splendid patch of wetlands and woods not far from their own New Hampshire home. They wanted to donate it to our town and turn it into a conservation area. After finding themselves in a tangle of lawyers and red tape and regulations, they came to the Salisbury Conservation Commission, of which I am a sworn-in member.

An aside: If you’re wondering how a novelist ended up on such a commission, you should know that it was part of my training as Natural Resources Steward. This is a UNH program dedicated to training volunteers to help protect the flora and fauna of the great state of New Hampshire. One of our assignments was to attend a meeting of a local organization or agency concerned with ecological issues, as an incentive to get involved at the grass-roots level.

It worked. I chose to attend a meeting of the Salisbury Conservation Commission right down the road at the town clerk’s office. I went in as an observer, and came out a member. Note: This is typical of small-town New England. Show up at the meeting of any local organization, be it the Friends of the Library or the Historical Society or the Conservation Commission, and you’ll leave a card-carrying member. You have been warned.

Back to the ribbon cutting at the trailhead. It took a lot of folks and a lot of work to get to this point. Sandy and Everett worked with Salisbury Conservation Commission and the Ausbon Sargent Land Preservation Trust to facilitate what can be a complicated process. The commission hired a trail builder to walk the land and determine the best route for a nature trail that locals could enjoy with least disruption to wildlife.

With a retinue of local volunteers, we helped groom that trail, spending hours in the conservation area, loppers in hand, cutting down saplings and clearing the path through the woods and wetlands to Vermetti Pond. We had maps drawn and signage designed and lists detailed.

But my single, most significant contribution to this project was volunteering my husband, builder and master carpenter, to build the kiosk that marks the trailhead entrance. Given the remote location of the trailhead, this was not as easy as you might think, requiring Michael to truck the pieces in and assemble the kiosk on site. I also created the Pinterest board of kiosk images from other trailheads on other public lands to give him an idea of what we wanted for ours.

But the final pièce de résistance is Michael’s alone. It looks great, and everyone loves it. And they love him. Note: You should know, dear readers, that I painted those thirty-seven letters myself. (A fiasco that I’ll tell you about some other time. Just don’t look too close.)

At the kiosk, we mingle with my fellow commission members, town selectmen, representatives from the Friends of the Library and the Historical Society, hikers, locals and friends and family of the McLaughlins. We meet Sandy and Everett, who is celebrating his 86^th birthday today. We were worried, given his age, that he might not be robust enough to make the trek today, but of course we shouldn’t have been.

Because this is New Hampshire, and Everett is the kind of New Hampshirite who looks like he chops his own firewood in the morning before hiking Mount Washington in the afternoon, probably because he chops his own firewood in the morning before hiking Mount Washington in the afternoon. With eagle-sharp eyes and an easy smile, Everett is as tall and stalwart as the trees towering above him. He cuts a figure worthy of Robert Frost as he tells us about his love of nature and his love of New England and how grateful he is that he and Sandy could leave something like this behind.

There are speeches by the chair of our Conservation Commission and one of our town selectmen. Saving the best for last, Sandy reads a commemorative poem she’s written precisely for this occasion. Somewhere, Frost and Thoreau are smiling.

More apple cider and apple cider donuts. Everett cuts the ribbon to a lot of whooping and hollering and then everyone heads off into the woods to hike the Vermetti Pond Trail in Salisbury’s newly christened Sandy and Everett McLaughlin Wildlife Conservation Area. Another fine day in New England.

ON DAYS LIKE TODAY

In Wildness is the preservation of the World. Thoreau’s truth hits home on days like today, when my faith in human nature is restored and my hope for our planet is renewed. We may not be able to do much about climate change or corporate greed or government grift on a national level or global scale (apart from protesting and signing petitions and voting), but we can start at home. We can make a difference in our own communities. Like Sandy and Everett McLaughlin, like all the volunteers who helped make the Vermetti Pond Trail happen, the trail builders and the master carpenters and the poets. Maybe we can’t save the whole world, but we can save our corner of it.

So, let’s do what we can. You save your corner of the world, and I’ll save mine and together maybe we can save the whole world.  One corner at time.

Because wildness begins at home.

May these fine autumn days bring you sunshine, sweet breezes, and apple cider and apple cider donuts…

Yours,

Paula

News from the Urban Forestry Center Volunteers

Hello everyone! I hope you are all having a great summer!  Thanks to those of you who attended our successful June and July volunteer work parties. We’ve gotten so much done and have had lots of fun along the way. 😊 We have been hydrating and pacing ourselves this summer, but are looking forward to cooler weather. From now through October 2026, AJ and Liz have confirmed our plan to continue meeting the 2^nd and 4^th Wednesday of the month. Closer to the holiday months of November and December, we’ll adjust dates around the holidays as needed.

August through October volunteer dates

• September 9
• September 23
• October 14
• October 28

Each work party meets from 10 am to 2pm, with a lunch break. When weather is inclement (heat/cold/precipitation), we will move inside for planning tool maintenance, etc.

Please register for these and future dates on our SignUp app:

 https://signup.com/go/OmhUPsU . If you can join us but haven’t signed up yet, please register and choose your dates at https://signup.com/go/OmhUPsU

Volunteer outcomes, June and July 2026

Utility Arboretum: Featuring short stature trees suitable for planting under power lines, pruning this arboretum has begun.

Tree ID trail: Trail blazes have all been repainted and are much easier to follow

Forestry trail: With volunteers overseen by Eagle Scout candidate Adam, each stop along this trail has been cleaned and tidied and number signs replaced. UF Center volunteers have continued to clear invasive species and have completed the trail blazes.

Pollinator Garden: Other than AJ, who knew there was a Pollinator Garden at UF Center? Planted ages ago by Eversource under the power lines, it has been excavated – meaning a brush cutter was needed to clear a border outside the fence. The fence was rebuilt, and within the garden was weeded by hand. We removed invasive species and ‘found’ some lovely native flowers and shrubs.

“Main Street” project: Here’s the short story: the goal is to create a full scale model of sidewalk and street plantings for urban planners. Clearing has begun, and more updates will follow.

Foundation plantings around the office and Learning Center:

Lots of clearing, pruning, and planning was started to make these plant and shrub areas into teaching demonstration areas that are also visually welcoming.

Goals and Plans

Our volunteer mission is ambitious! Under the direction of  A.J. Dupere and Liz McKinley, here’s the plan.

• In the arboretum, we are working toward restoring the arboretum to be an educational site, offering homeowners examples of ‘the right tree for the right spot’ and providing arborist trainees with a living learning resource. It’s time to remove some trees and replace them with appropriate options. Ongoing tasks include pruning, weeding bittersweet (& more) and mulching
• Trail maintenance of the Forest Trail and Tree ID trails will be an ongoing labor of love. We are also working towards providing kiosks, trail guides and guided walks as well as well-marked trails for casual visitors.
• Indoor inclement weather plans include tool maintenance, kiosk and trail guide design, project planning, future event planning, and more
• Eventually we plan to offer educational programs, but let’s just say that first there is much to do!

Seeking new volunteers

WE WANT YOU!  And also, do you have a friend who is also a Natural Resource Steward or a Master Gardener through UNH?  If so, invite them to join us!

Our program started in December 2025 and is now well established. We have lots of fun AND have managed to accomplish a great deal of goal-oriented work in the arboretum and on the trails.

We have both light duty and rugged work available, and of course, many hands makes light work. Most of our work is outside, but never worry – we also have indoor plans for inclement weather.

New volunteers can register on SignUP at https://signup.com/go/OmhUPsU. There is no regular ongoing commitment; we look forward to seeing you whenever you can join us.

Hope to see you soon!

Gale & Jess

Gale Lyman, NFC ’25    gale@galelyman.com, 508.878.2954

Jessica Cobb, NFC ’25   jcobb628@gmail.com

Urban Forestry Center Volunteer Coordinators

Stewards Day at Canterbury Shaker Village

Friday, August 14 and 21, 2026

August 14

Promote Safe Hiking:  Clear Overgrown Summer Grasses from the Final Section of Meadow Pond Trail

It seems that everyone enjoys walking the Meadow Pond Trail. It ambles downhill from the CSV parking area under a canopy of trees that leads directly to Meadow Pond.  The trail follows the perimeter of the pond along steeper inclines and crosses a stream that provides a path for pond water overflow during spring thaw or summer downpours. 

Today we focused on removing overgrown grasses to allow hikers easy access to the end of the trail. Loppers and a weed whacker were used along the way.  Overgrown tree branches were cut and carried away from the trail. 

A sample of the wide trail leading to Meadow Pond. The trees provide shade and protection from sun and/or moderate rain.

August 21

Perfect Weather to Trim the Tree at the Bee House and Begin the Process of Drying Flax

You have probably heard that the Bee House at the Shaker Village will officially open for viewing (sans bees!) on Saturday, August 29.  Today, we were asked to trim the tree adjacent to the structure’s front door.  The trimming was needed to provide safe passage up the steps and through the entry door.

The Bee House will receive new coats of paint on the internal walls and exterior lathing.  Historical information and photos will be displayed along the perimeter of the room.  The building will be dedicated and opened for viewing on August 29. 

The Stewards cleared the path to the entryway and loaded the lopped branches onto the trailer for disposal. 

As soon as the branches from the Bee House trimming were transferred to the dump, the team agreed to move a load of harvested flax to a drying room in the Garden Barn.  The Flax may be on display during the dedication of the Bee House next week. 

The bundled packs of flax were collected and delivered to the Garden Barn by a Steward.  Others helped move the packs to the third floor where packs were laid on racks to allow air flow over and below each layer.  Raised layers of window screens provided a few “shelves” for one layer and a shelf of plastic milk crates saved the day for the remaining batches of flax.

The teams cleaned the attic and returned to the first floor.  Another successful Steward and Volunteer working session closed for the day at the Village. 

Reminder:  All Stewards and the Friday volunteer team are invited to attend the Grand Reopening of the Bee House on Saturday, August 29 from 12:00 – 4:00 PM. 

If interested, please contact Bruce Currie or ML Dopart to learn about meeting of the Stewards prior to the opening ceremony.

And we hope that you are able to join us next Friday, if you can, to clear invasive plants and care for hiking trails at the Canterbury Shaker Village.

Year-Round StewardsDays at Canterbury Shaker Village

Dates:                  Friday mornings 9:00 AM – 12:00 noon 

Location:              Meet in the Shaker Village parking lot

Hosts:                   Bruce Currie, John Pastore 

Equipment:         Pruning/Garden tools if you have any available.

Food:                    Bring your own water or beverage

Dress:                    Layers/sunscreen for the season, insect repellant, sturdy shoes, work gloves, hats

Health tips:         Please do not attend sessions if you have any symptoms of Covid-19.

Format:                 Lead Stewards will meet you in the parking lot to review the day’s projects.

A Fellowship of Ferns

By Paula Munier, NRS ’22

It’s that time of year again when the forest floor is crowded with ferns. Ferns often go unnoticed and unheralded, despite their fractal beauty. Indeed, if they are spoken of at all it is typically with annoyance at their abundance or anxiety about the ticks lurking in their fronds.

And yet ferns play a critical role in the ecosystem of forests—and they always have. This group of plants is one of the oldest on the planet, far older than flowering plants. We’re talking 360 million years ago, long before the dinosaurs and long before us.  

What’s so special about ferns? Well, their fronds shade the soil, keeping it moist in the summer. And when they die off come autumn, they provide nutrients that enrich the soil. Their deep roots help prevent soil erosion, and the entire plant serves as shelter to a variety of animals, from insects and spiders and amphibians to ground-nesting birds like ovenbirds and hermit thrushes. Both wild turkeys and ruffled grouse hide their poults and chicks in ferns to keep them safe.

And while they make rough eating for many species thanks to tough fibers and tannins and toxins, ferns are also a food source for other species, including our own. Moose munch on wood fern and royal fern (above). Snowshoe hares and white-tailed deer feed on bracken fern and ostrich fern in spring. So do human foragers, who search out the tightly looped shoots of ostrich fern known as fiddleheads. Fiddleheads are a delicacy prized by home cooks and award-winning chefs alike. Some cooks also use the fiddleheads of lady fern.

“Only spread a fern-frond over a man’s head and worldly cares are cast out, and freedom and beauty and peace come in.”

–John Muir

Take a closer look at the lovely kaleidoscope of these green feathery plants overrunning the trails the next time you wander through the woods. On a recent hike here in New England, we spotted several different fern species brightening the dappled gloom of the understory.

The interrupted fern (above) has been around the eastern part of North America for some 200 million years, according to fossil records, making it the oldest species of fern here.

Sensitive ferns (above), like many ferns, are eco-indicators, meaning that their presence indicates a certain kind of habitat. These ferns need constant moisture, and so when you spot a sensitive fern, you’ll typically find high groundwater and/or wetlands nearby.

The cinnamon fern (above), named after its dramatic cinnamon-stick style fertile fronds, is a great soil stabilizer, perfect for bogs and rain gardens. Its rootstock was used in indigenous medicine for such ailments as colds, chills, and rheumatism.

The New York fern (above) is also a wetlands indicator. Its pretty, wispy look and low-maintenance profile make it a favorite for those with woodland gardens or natural wetlands gardens. In addition to the shady forest floor, they’re also found in marshy, wet areas, and along the banks of streams. New York ferns thrive in damp, shaded woodland floors and stream edges, thereby providing the high-humidity environments beloved by toads and amphibians.

The Christmas fern (above) is an evergreen fern prized by the makers of holiday wreaths, floral arrangements, and other seasonal decorations. Its year-round dark green fronds make the fern a favorite of gardeners, too, especially as ground cover for shady spots and erosion-prone slopes, as well as providing shelter for wildlife. The plant was widely used by North American indigenous peoples for medicinal purposes, including root teas for treating rheumatism, fevers, and stomach problems. It was also thought to be a good blood purifier.

“If we were required to know the position of the fruit dots or the character of the endusium, nothing could be easier to ascertain, but if it is required that you be AFFECTED by ferns, that they amount to anything, signify anything to you, that they be another sacred scripture and revelation to you, help you to redeem your life, this end is not so easily accomplished.”

 –Henry David Thoreau

As the ever-wise Thoreau reminds us, if we want to have a deep connection with nature, we must abandon our books and our belongings and our busyness and go into the woods, to commune with the ferns. These ancient plants are time-honored friends of the forest, a fellowship of ferns as it were, supporting the flora and fauna of our natural world.

So the next time you wander into the woods, read the sacred scripture of the fronds, and redeem your life.

One fern at a time.

May your summer be filled with fun, frolic, and ferns.

Yours,
Paula

Rain Gardens in the Fall

By Rebecca Dube, NRS ’19

According to Emeritus Extension Nursery & Landscape State Specialist Catherine Neal, a rain garden is defined as “a shallow depression designed to capture storm water runoff and allow it to slowly infiltrate into the soil.” With the larger, more intense storms we have today, rain gardens help prevent all of that beneficial water from merely running over surfaces and disappearing down the drain. Perennials, grasses or shrubs that tolerate both wet and dry conditions provide a barrier for the running water, slowing it and letting it soak into the soil. These same plants later transpire water, releasing it back into the atmosphere.

Rain gardens can be productive through three seasons, depending on what you choose to plant in them. Excellent late-season plants to use include New England asters and goldenrod, both which attract many pollinators. Swamp sunflower continues to bloom through October and does well in most soil. Switchgrass can stand through the winter and provides a strong root base.

As with any garden, fall cleanup is an essential part of its healthy maintenance. Rain gardens can collect leaves and debris, so this should be cleaned out each fall. The leaves and debris can build up and block the overflow weir of the garden, or where excess water can flow to in a larger storm. Each fall, make sure your overflow weir is not eroded, and add new rocks to it if needed.

Plants can be removed that are diseased or have had extensive insect damage. If the plant has spread too much, or you don’t want its seeds to germinate, it can be removed or divided. Some plant removal can wait until spring to provide food and shelter for birds and insects. If you have woody plants in your rain garden and we have a dry autumn, it is a good idea to continue to water them until the ground begins to freeze.

If you are interested in creating a rain garden, either in your own yard or as a community project, you can look into how-to videos and guides by UNH Extension, or read more at the NH DES voluntary program Soak Up the Rain New Hampshire. NH Audubon and UNH Extension are also hosting a class on rain gardens on September 21 at the Massabesic Center in Auburn.

Rain gardens play an important role in the mitigation of stormwater throughout the year. They can also attract pollinators and provide more moisture for the soil. By choosing plants that bloom into the fall and performing routine maintenance, homeowners and communities can ensure their rain gardens will continue to provide these benefits in any season.

Seed Seeker Season is On!

By jo Russavage, NRS ’10

Arrowwood

It’s seed collection time again! With all of the construction activity at the NH State Forest Nursery this summer, we didn’t schedule seed seeker training this summer. Hopefully there are still some folks from past years interested in collecting, & newbies willing to learn as we go!

The Wednesday volunteers have already launched the season, collecting arrowwood seed and hazelnuts from the NH State Forest Nursery hedgerows in August. We will be organizing more collections at the nursery, and all are welcome to join in. Be aware that the timing is fairly spontaneous, as various crops ripen as weather dictates.  Billy generally gives us a few days’ notice, and we’re also collecting on the regular volunteer day/ first Wednesday each month. If you want to get on the direct notice list for seed collecting, please let us know.

Billy wanted to give everyone an idea of what species are coming up within the next few weeks, and a few species that we are looking for over the coming late summer and fall that we can help with. Elderberries are ripening over the next couple weeks. It looks like a bumper crop in many places! If you have access to elderberry that you want to donate to the nursery seed stores, please contact jo (jo.russavage@unh.edu) or Billy (William.R.Kunelius@dncr.nh.gov) so it can get to the nursery in a timely manner. Be aware that the nursery cannot use seed from berries that have been heated or frozen as part of processing.

A few species that we are looking for this season that we could use help finding sources are:

• Black Cherry- Mid August-September; 
• Shagbark Hickory; Red Oak- looks to be a decent nut year in many areas of the state;
• Oak- We may not find any this year, but keep an eye out!
• Sugar Maple- I am not seeing any seed in the greater Concord area, but there could be seed in other areas of the state;
• Red Spruce  and White Spruce

If you would like to take part in a workshop on native plant seed saving in October, check out this link to Seed Saving of Native Plants at Massabessic Center.

The Gentle Art of Plant Conversation

By Jennifer Montgomery, NRS ’19

Drawing by Richard Duijnstee.

Walking into the conversation late

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how we speak about the natural world. I came to native plants, pollinators, and resource stewardship…late. Not fashionably late. More like walking into a conversation where everyone already knows each other, is using vocabulary I don’t understand, and seems very confident about it.

When I discovered an interest in conservation several years ago, I quickly realized how much there was to learn—and how differently people carried that knowledge. I encountered novices like myself and also many people with deep expertise and genuine enthusiasm.

Part of my education has been discovering that conversations can sometimes drift into something less like shared curiosity and more like quiet competition over who holds the most rigorous or “correct” view. The enthusiasm is real, but occasionally it can come across with a certainty that makes some of us want to retreat rather than engage.

I remember standing in a beautiful flower garden once, admiring the blooms, only to have a fellow visitor explain—in great detail and with sharp judgment—how particular flowers in this lush pollinator garden were ecological mistakes. I just wanted to back away quietly and avoid future monologues.

That wasn’t a one-off experience—not common, but not rare either. Sometimes I want to escape what can feel like eco-surveillance. If you’ve ever felt that tension, you are not alone.

Good information, hard delivery

Here’s the tricky part: The information shared by knowledgeable people is often excellent. The challenge is not so much the content—it’s how it’s delivered.

A recent article by Margaret Roach, “It’s Time to Plant, but First Take a Crash Course on Cultivars,” offers a useful example of how powerful this information can be when it is presented in an inviting way. Roach, a popular and prolific expert on sustainable gardening, walks readers through the often-confusing world of cultivars and explains why the choices we make can influence ecological outcomes.

As Roach explains, not all cultivars are equal. Some, particularly those that remain close to the “straight species” or wild type, can retain much of their ecological value. Others, especially those bred heavily for appearance—double-flower forms or altered structures—can reduce or eliminate access to nectar and pollen for insects. A flower that looks more dramatic to us may, in effect, be unusable to the pollinators we are trying to support.

At the same time, the article avoids rigid conclusions and doesn’t assume knowledge of the vocabulary. Roach explains that cultivars exist on a spectrum, from relatively natural selections to more heavily manipulated forms, and encourages readers to think in terms of tradeoffs rather than rigid rules.

What struck me most was her tone. She started with shared curiosity, defined her terms, introduced complexity gradually, acknowledged tradeoffs, and left room for people to make better—not perfect—decisions.

As a true expert, she could easily have proselytized. But she didn’t. And that kept me reading.

Real gardens, real lives

Messaging style is a choice many of us make unconsciously as we gain knowledge and confidence. We can become gatekeepers, focused on protecting the integrity of best practices and quick to point out where the choices of others fall short. Or we can become guides, helping people take their next step.

In my own life as a relative novice interested in the topic, I’m balancing two jobs, a shared yard with a husband who has somewhat different priorities, a limited budget, and only so much time and energy for gardening. I also have unrealistic fantasies about effortless, spectacular, tick-free gardens and woodland areas that somehow maintain themselves while supporting every native pollinator, bird, and critter in New England.

Since I don’t have the magic wand to make that happen, I make compromises and incremental improvements. That’s why it can feel wearying to encounter sermons about perfect plants, perfect pollinator support, or perfect ecological choices.

Most people are not designing ideal landscapes from a blank slate. They are making incremental decisions in the middle of full lives. And within that reality, many are still trying. They swap out a few plants. They begin noticing pollinators. They ask better questions than they did the year before.

That is meaningful progress.

The value of a million imperfect yards

One of the reasons Doug Tallamy’s “Homegrown National Park” idea resonates with so many people is that it quietly reframes the conversation.

The goal is not for every homeowner to become a native-plant scholar with a perfectly optimized landscape. The goal is to create enough habitat, spread across enough ordinary yards, that collectively it begins to function like a patchwork national park.

That is a much more inclusive mindset.

It means the person who swaps out a burning bush for a native shrub matters. The person who leaves part of the leaves in the fall matters. The person who plants one pollinator bed next to the driveway matters. Even the person who simply becomes curious enough to start noticing bees for the first time matters. And in my experience, success and action breed more success and more action.

Those contributions may not satisfy the strictest definition of best practice. But multiplied across neighborhoods, towns, and communities, they become ecologically meaningful. And that feels deeply hopeful to me.

I think about this sometimes when conversations drift into intense debates over cultivars, ecotypes, or whether someone’s plant choices are sufficiently rigorous. Many people are already trying harder than they were five years ago. They are reading labels at garden centers. They are asking questions. They are reconsidering lawns. They are learning the names of native plants and pollinators for the first time in their lives.

That kind of cultural shift matters. And perhaps one of the best ways to accelerate it is through gentler invitations to what is possible and preferable. And for many people, that kind of approach might inspire them to train for and participate in the marathon rather than watching from afar.