Amateur Phenology

For anyone not yet practicing the study of phenology, now is a superb time to begin. Despite threats of returning snow and cutting winds, our local ephemerals propel themselves towards sunlight, adult foxes are spotted guarding their new kits, and ruby-throated hummingbirds near their northernmost summer range after a lengthy journey. These events would not happen in tandem during any other season--to the observer, they are sure signs of spring. 

Willow's (Salix sp.) cylindrical flower cluster is known as
catkin, but appears like floral burst of sunshine against a drab backdrop.

During this time of the year I continue to cultivate my own interest in phenology--which I like to think of as thoughtful observations of biological synchrony, or the lack thereof, in relation to time. Documentation from my previous years of exploring the landscape around me becomes precious. Unfortunately, I'm one to leave home much of my helpful tools whenever I embark on an outdoor excursion. Without a journal, I resign to prioritizing my cell phone camera. 

The camera is certainly not state-of-the-art--nothing about the device really is. Still, the uncomplicated piece of technology allows me to store information about everything I encounter and refer to it at later dates. This includes photographs for identification, time stamps on the photos, and even location tags. My cell phone has unintentionally become a modern phenology journal. For example, on any chilly spring day this year I can simply pull up an online storage folder on my computer, click through my phone photos from two years ago, and note from one grainy shot that I  had found a patch of wild leek (Allium tricoccum) leaves emerging midday on April 18, 2017 in a specific area near Drummond, Wisconsin. For the record, this was a fairly typical occurrence compared to other years. I can then go on to note that just four days later I came across blooming hepatica (Anemone americana), and four days after that marveled at an incredible ice storm. 

Seas of green Allium tricoccum sprout above dense leaf litter during the
spring of 2017.

As an Earth Day present, deeply-hued hepatica bloomed,
much to my enjoyment on April 22, 2017. 

If I want to investigate just a bit further back into the depths of time--which I certainly do--I can refer to another storehouse of information. The Museum's cabinet full of pressed plant specimens brings me to a time before myself. Wild leeks have been on my mind as I begin to carefully harvest their leaves, so just the other day I looked up a specimen collected around this same time in 1976. Despite fading, I recognized the two broad leaves and swollen bulbs of our wild leek specimen as I sifted through its folder. Collected on May 10, the leaves were mature, as we would expect to find this time over 40 years later.

Late April brought a bounty of fresh wild leek leaves this year. 

This herbarium specimen of wild leeks was collected May 10, 1976.

Curiosity growing, I decided to jot down a handful of emerging plants I have photographed so far this year and looked back on those same species collected decades before. I found nothing life shattering in terms of changing phenological events, but enjoyed the brief respite from other duties nonetheless. 

At left, the spathe and leaves of skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) emerge May 6, 2019.
At right, a familiar flower of the same plant was found in the same area May 15, 1976.

The catkins of two species of willow burst open at approximately the same time
of year, 40 years apart.

I know that this season of ephemeral flora will not last long--that's the very nature of an ephemeral life. Soon enough trees, having released their pollen during this short period, will bud out and leaves will fill in the gaps of the forest canopy. Although this time never lasts long, mementos collected by me and other amateur phenologists will remain for some time. I hope to help add to the documentation of changes over time--in turn gaining more resources for comparing data over the years. Each piece of documentation, preserved as best and as long as possible, will help us to trace the ebb and flow of nature's calendar in the past, present, and future.