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John Turner

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Above, what Blydenburgh County Park could look like if the dam isn't put back ... this is West Brook in Bayard Cutting Arboretum several years after the dam failed and a beautiful stream valley with great biodiversity has emerged. Photo from John Turner

By John L. Turner

Due to the extensive development of Long Island, starting with European colonization nearly 400 years ago, virtually no species, natural area, or landscape has been untouched. Some of these “touches” have been minor, others moderate, while still others have been drastic or complete, like the virtual destruction of the Hempstead Plains, a once 40,000 square mile tallgrass prairie located in the middle of Nassau County. True too, for the timber wolf which was eradicated early in the Island’s settlement driven by a bounty paid during the 17th century for each dead wolf. 

There are few places where these impacts have been more extensive than with the more than 100 streams and rivers flowing outward from the center of Long Island to the salty waters that surround it. For centuries these streams were viewed as only having commercial value; modified by dams the streams became artificial ponds to supply water for cranberry bogs and for the harvest of ice. 

Mills were constructed in many places, taking advantage of the water funneled over constructed dams, to grind corn, saw wood or for fulling clothing fiber. Today, there are very few unobstructed streams on Long Island. (One of the few is Alewife Creek in Southampton which drains Big Fresh Pond, emptying into North Sea Harbor).  

The ‘brook’ in Stony Brook. Photo from John Turner

Obstruction is the reality at “Cutsgunsuck,” the Setalcott Indigenous Nation’s name for a “brook laden with stones,” a brook that we know today as Stony Brook. This “stone laden” brook, fed by freshwater oozing out of the Upper Glacial aquifer on its northward flow to the harbor, was drastically altered about 275 years ago, with the construction of the dam to funnel water for the Stony Brook Grist Mill so only a limited section of the original brook remains. Predictably, as with all dams, the water backed up behind the newly constructed dam, creating a pond in the process and drowning much of the stream and streamside environment — and its interwoven array of plants and animals  — that had evolved in place over many thousands of years. Same was the case with the dam in Blydenburgh County Park creating Stump Pond. 

Victims of these dams were the migratory fish, American Eel and Alewife, a species of river herring, that undoubtedly used Stony Brook and the upper reaches of the Nissequogue River centuries ago to spawn and develop. These fish, known as diadromous species,  live in two worlds — in the case of American eels spawning in the ocean (the Sargasso Sea), migrating inland to freshwater streams, rivers, lakes, and ponds to spend more than a decade growing and maturing before returning to the ocean. Alewife behave in the opposite fashion — coming inland to spawn with the adults and young leaving to develop in the ocean. 

Eels and river herring are important components of the coastal food chain, nourishing cormorants, wading birds, eagles, and ospreys while back in the sea, a host of predatory fish such as striped bass, bluefish, and tuna. Mammals that prey on these species include river otters, making a slow comeback on Long Island, and seals. The dams created insurmountable obstacles to the completion of their life cycle so for these fish and the other species that feed upon them two ecological threads were severed. 

The Northern Dusky Salamander found in the Stony Brook Mill Pond. Photo from John Turner

Other animals that prosper in cold and clear streams lost out too, seeing their habitat lost or substantially diminished.  Remarkably, one of them is a species hanging on in the truncated stream segment south of the now drained portion of the Stony Brook Mill Pond — the Northern Dusky Salamander, an amphibian discovered by someone helping wildlife in the pond after the dam failure; a species which has not been seen on Long Island in nearly a century and was presumed extirpated here!

The northern dusky is one of nine native salamander species that call Long Island home and some naturalists wonder if this population constitutes a new species since it’s been reproductively isolated from other populations of the species, the nearest being in Westchester county, for some 12,000 to 15,000 years.  DNA work is proposed to sort the genetics out.  

The same adverse ecological impacts occurred when the dam was constructed to operate a grist mill at Stump Pond within Blydenburgh County Park in Hauppauge (which had its dam blow out due to the same storm event in August) but on an even larger scale. The two streams feeding Stump Pond, that is two headwater sections of the Nissequogue River, one beginning in the Hauppauge Springs area near the Suffolk County Center on State Route 454, the other emanating further afield in the Village of the Branch, disappeared with the construction of the dam that created Stump Pond, flooding many dozens of acres of riparian habitat including the killing of dozens of Atlantic White Cedar, a rare wetland tree species.  

What if the dams at Stony Brook Mill Pond and Stump Pond are not reconstructed? What would this mean for the environmental setting there? Almost immediately wetland dependent plant species and wildlife would repopulate the stream and the adjacent low-lying floodplain and the wetland at West Brook in the Bayard Cutting Arboretum can provide insight. Here, the dam failed in 2019 draining an area about the size of the Stony Brook Mill Pond and naturalists have been studying the result ever since.

Migratory fish now have unimpeded access to the full length of the West Brook watershed. Plants have flourished, emerging from the seed bank that has laid dormant for many decades, awaiting just the right conditions to germinate. Within two years 108 native species of wetland-loving wildflowers began to fill in the mud banks on both sides of West Brook, including an extensive stand of cattails. These plants now support numerous insects including a number of pollinators. 

Underappreciated concerns from dams and dam failures are property damage and loss of human life. These concerns are very likely to grow as the frequency and severity of storm events increases due to climate disruption. 

For example, the National Centers for Environmental Information, part of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), keeps tallies of storms and for New York noted seven weather related disasters in the 1980’s causing $1 billion worth of property damage. By the 1990’s the total doubled to 14, the same number for the period of 2000 to 2009. 

For the 2010’s? Twenty-nine such events. And in 2023 alone there were seven, the same number you’ll remember for all of the 1980’s. With slightly different circumstances it is not difficult to envision several houses and the occupants within them, living downstream from the failed dams at both the Stony Brook Mill Pond and Blydenburgh County Park, being destroyed and killed, respectively.  

Then there’s the cost of maintaining dams and impoundments. The impoundments behind dams collect sediment which eventually have to be dredged, at considerable expense, or the pond becomes increasingly shallow and eventually disappears from the sediment load. And the warm, still waters in the impoundments are conducive to plant growth, especially by invasive species which often proliferate, eventually covering the entire water surface, compromising other recreational uses like boating and fishing.

For example, the Town of Brookhaven spent more than $4 million of taxpayer funds to combat Cabomba, a species of fanwort that’s a noxious weed, growing in the Upper Lake of the Carmans River (it wasn’t successful in eliminating the weed). 

Suffolk County spent several million dollars more to dredge the sediments from Canaan Lake in Patchogue and Nassau County officials have committed significant staff and equipment in an effort to eradicate Water Chestnut from Mary’s Lake in Massapequa. 

One last example is the state’s more-than-a-decade fight to control Ludwigia, also known as floating primrose-willow, an invasive species that’s proliferated an impoundment in the Peconic River. Multiply these fiscal impacts out to the more than 90 dams and impoundments on Long Island and pretty soon we’re talking real money. Fiscal conservatives like free-flowing conditions. 

For these aforementioned ecological, public safety, and fiscal reasons, the dam at Blydenburgh County Park should not be repaired. A channel, forking from the stream currently,  can be deepened to supply water to the mill wheel if the county ever makes the grist mill functioning again; it has laid dormant for nearly half-a-century. 

The good news is that an alternative vision to repairing the dam at Blydenburgh County Park has emerged that would, some believe, enhance a visitor’s experience: construct a bridge over the stream where the dam gave way so hikers can once again walk around the park and the former pond and add two pedestrian footbridges over the two streams that flow through the park, providing scenic and panoramic views of the stream valleys and diverse wetland meadows that will form. 

A slightly different vision can be advanced for the Stony Brook Mill Pond. Here, the Town of Brookhaven, other levels of government, and the Ward Melville Heritage Organization are moving to restore the dam, an understandable response to what the Mill Pond has meant to the local Three Village community — a landscape that’s loved and cherished. 

The challenge, then, is to determine if there is a way to rebuild the dam and restore the pond but create a richer ecological setting. Can this be done? A good first step would be to incorporate a fish ladder and eel passage that effectively allows for migratory fish to access the pond; the natural-looking rock ramp fish ladder in Grangebel Park in Riverhead and the eel passage further upstream on the Peconic River serve as useful models. Also, establishing a lower pond level through a lower elevation dam would increase stream and streamside habitat for the betterment of the rare salamander and other stream dwelling species. 

Two other actions that could improve conditions at the Mill Pond: 1) Soften the boundary along the eastern edge of the pond by removing the bulkheading encompassing much of the shoreline here, planting this transition area with native wetland plants and wildflowers, and 2) Better control road runoff  into the pond from Main Street. 

A recent conversation I had with someone who assisted in the effort to free stranded wildlife said she noticed an oil sheen on the surface of the remaining pooled water in the southeastern section of the pond where a drainage pipe empties into the pond from Main Street; a number of ducks were swimming around in this water.  On a recent visit, I noticed a few ducks preening and wondered if they weren’t ingesting toxic oil into their bodies in the process.   

If we embrace the alternative described above, a better experience can be had at Blydenburgh County Park and if we make these modifications, a better, more environmentally sound Stony Brook Mill Pond can emerge from the ruins, to once again be enjoyed and valued by the local community. Here, these elements would create enhanced wetland habitat for the betterment of many of our wildlife neighbors — fish, birds, and salamanders alike. And in no small measure, it would  allow for the landscape feature that gave the community its name —Stony Brook — to be enhanced and better protected. Indeed, we’d be putting a bit of the “brook” back in Stony Brook.

A resident of Setauket, author John L. Turner is a naturalist, conservation co-chair of the Four Harbors Audubon Society, and Conservation Policy Advocate for the Seatuck Environmental Association.

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Duck Stamp 2024-2025
A Column Promoting a More Earth-Friendly Lifestyle

By John L. Turner

John Turner

I’m occasionally asked what are some of the things a person can do to protect wildlife. One of the suggestions I always recommend is the next time you go to the local post office, take the time to buy a federal duck stamp. You can also easily purchase duck stamps online and at sporting goods stores. A duck stamp can’t be used for postage but does allow you free access to any national wildlife refuge. I keep mine in my wallet at all times.

Ninety eight percent of the current $25 cost of a duck stamp goes directly toward buying wetland habitat that waterfowl and so many other species depend upon. Since the program began in 1934 conservationists have committed about $800 million resulting in nearly 6 million acres of land permanently protected as part of the National Wildlife Refuge system. As these totals illustrate, this low profile program has been a remarkable success! 

Artists from around the country submit their paintings of various waterfowl species and one lucky contest winner is selected by a panel of judges. The duck stamp available through June 2025 by artist Chuck Black highlights a male pintail duck, a handsome and graceful duck that lives up to its name with a few long pointed feathers that form its tail.  The male’s chocolate brown head, cheek, and neck, the latter of which is pierced by an  upward pointing white dash, are diagnostic field marks of this species which overwinters on freshwater lakes and ponds on Long Island. 

So don’t forget to buy a duck stamp when you next visit your local post office.

A resident of Setauket, author John L. Turner is conservation chair of the Four Harbors Audubon Society, author of “Exploring the Other Island: A Seasonal Nature Guide to Long Island” and president of Alula Birding & Natural History Tours.

 

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Red-bellied Woodpecker. Pixabay photo

By John L. Turner

Part Two

John Turner

Of the twenty-two species found in North America (twenty-three if you’re optimistic the Ivory-billed Woodpecker still exists and who doesn’t hope that?) we have seven woodpecker species  inhabiting Long Island’s forests. 

The Pileated is the largest, being about the same size as the American Crow. It is the “Woody Woodpecker” of woodpeckers! They have begun to repopulate Long Island after a long absence, benefitting from the maturing forests of large trees in protected parks and preserves.  

I saw my first Long Island Pileated earlier this year in the Humes Preserve in northern Nassau County, when a male broke out from the tree line and flew across a long  meadow before reaching the woods on the other side, providing a five second view of this unmistakable species. Running to the point where it had re-entered the forest I enjoyed closer views of the bird banging away on the bark of a tree, interspersed with the bird’s raucous call. If you hear them on a hike, look around on tree trunks for their distinctive, rectangular-shaped excavation holes they make in search of beetle grubs, their favorite prey.   

Downy woodpecker. Pixabay photo

In contrast, the Downy Woodpecker is the smallest of the Island’s  woodpeckers and is also quite common, with almost every forest and suburban woodlot hosting a pair of Downies, where they often reveal their presence by their downward slurring “whinny” call. Recently, in a property on the west side of the Nissequogue River, I watched a pair of Downies fly into a nearby black walnut tree and perform a courtship dance. The two forms moved in jerky robotic motions responding to each other — a crazy motion following short bouts of stillness broken once again by motion. This went on for thirty seconds or so before they flew off, leaving a smile on my face.   

The Downy Woodpecker’s slightly larger cousin — the Hairy Woodpecker — is also common and widespread in New York. The Hairy prefers deeper, more intact forests than does the Downy. These two species are easily confused. One clue to distinguish them is found in the white outer tail feathers of the two species. A long time ago, as a youthful birder, I learned this clue: the Downy Woodpecker has black spots on its feather while the Hairy lacks them, which I put to memory using a mnemonic device “The Downy has dots while the Hairy hasn’t”; the Hairy’s bill is also proportionally larger.  

The most beautiful woodpecker that calls Long Island home is undoubtedly the Red-headed Woodpecker. No other woodpecker, or bird in North America for that matter, has the Red-headed’s striking color combination of a brilliant red head and black and white wings and body. Unfortunately, breeding bird data indicates this species is in fairly rapid decline in the state although the cause(s) has not been fully identified. 

Red-headed Woodpecker. Pixabay photo

One reported cause is being hit by cars due to its habit of hawking for insects flying over roads. They are a rare breeder here.  Several years ago a breeding pair nested in Manorville but seems to have vacated the area and there is currently breeding activity in the Flanders of the Pine Barrens.

It’s relative, the Red-bellied Woodpecker,  shows a reverse trend in the state, as this woodpecker, once of a more southerly distribution, has rapidly increased in abundance. In fact, in Ludlow Griscom’s 1923 Birds of the New York City Region, the Red-bellied is reported as being a very rare bird having been seen merely three times in the area, the last being in 1895. However, by the 1960’s the species was well established and has continued to expand its range northward, being a confirmed breeder in slightly more than one-third of the census blocks in the 2005 NYS Breeding Bird Atlas. The bird is now a common breeder here and its breeding range has extended as far north as mid-New England. They are found in virtually every wooded park on Long Island. 

The Northern Flicker, the males being distinguished from females by the black mustache mark they possess, is the most widespread woodpecker in New York. A lover of ants, the Flicker spends more time on the ground to feed on them than any other woodpecker. This predilection for ants, which are unavailable in the winter, is the main reason why flickers are among the most highly migratory of all woodpeckers.

I remember hiking several decades ago through a park in the Long Island Pine Barrens where a wildfire had burned off the forest floor and understory, exposing countless large ant mounds. For the next several weeks I saw Flickers commonly here, taking advantage of countless ants exposed by the fire. 

This leaves, for last, the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, a bird that, as the name suggests, has a diet different than it’s brethren. Sapsuckers routinely drill small holes, typically parallel rows, in thin barked trees and routinely return to lap up the sap and any small insects attracted to it with their aforementioned brush-like tongues. This species doesn’t breed here, raising its young further north, but both adults and immatures can be seen on Long Island, especially during fall migration.  

There are two other woodpecker species found in New York State but not on Long Island — the Black-backed and Three-toed Woodpeckers. These are Adirondack specialties where they inhabit dense spruce forests. Both species share the basic black-and-white pattern of most other woodpeckers but instead of having red crowns possess yellow ones. They are also distinctive by the three toed feet they have rather than four. They are most abundant in forests where fire has killed swaths of  trees, setting the stage for the many beetles that feast on the dead wood. While disturbance like wildfires typically can adversely affect wildlife,  woodpeckers are a group of birds that can benefit from perturbations in the environment.   

Whether it’s their unique behavior, impressive anatomical adaptations, or ecological importance due to their cavity making abilities, the native woodpecker species of Long Island are an interesting and important part of nature’s fabric here.  Why not spend some time getting to know the species which inhabit yards, parks and woodlands in your neighborhood?

Part I of Wonderful Woodpeckers appeared in the issue of October 24. Read it here.

A resident of Setauket, author John L. Turner is a naturalist, conservation co-chair of the Four Harbors Audubon Society, and Conservation Policy Advocate for the Seatuck Environmental Association.

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From left, a female and male Pileated Woodpecker. The male can be differentiated from the female by its red cheek stripe and longer red crown that extends to its bill. Pixabay photo

By John L. Turner

Part One 

John Turner

Perhaps you remember, from those good ol’ days in high school biology, the phrase the teacher requested that you memorize: “Form begets function.” This truism reflects a universal fact that a strong correlation exists between the form of an animal or body part and the function it performs.

The long legs of a heron, for example, help it excel at wading in the shallow water of pond edges where it employs its long, dagger-like bill to spear fish and frogs. Similarly, the shape of a barnacle, growing on rocks in the intertidal portion of the ocean where crashing waves can dislodge anchored objects, is shaped to deflect wave energy. 

Nowhere is this “form fits function” rule better exhibited than with our native woodpeckers, birds that grip the vertical surface of bark while hammering away on wood. Indeed, from head to tail woodpeckers are the epitome of the truism. Many of their physical features allow them to excel when pecking on wood.  

Let’s start with the tail. Woodpecker tail feathers, especially the middle two, are quite stiff, much stiffer than, say, a blue jay feather. This rigidity is a major benefit as the tail serves as a brace, similar to a telephone lineman’s legs against the utility pole, helping to anchor the bird against the side of a tree. The other part of the anchor involves very strong feet equipped with sharp and powerful claws enabling the bird to maintain a firm grip, a grip enhanced because a woodpecker’s four toes are aligned with two toes in the front and two in the back to better grip bark, compared to a songbird’s foot with three toes in the front and one in the back. 

A male Pileated Woodpecker. Pixabay photo

These anchor points serve well as the woodpecker uses them to actively probe crevices in the bark, as well as to hammer away wood in search of grubs lurking beneath. And this is where the adaptations in the bird’s skull come into play. According to the definitive text on this bird group “Woodpeckers of North America,” a Pileated Woodpecker may strike with its bill, and by extension its skull, 12,000 times a day. Even more remarkably, the deceleration force each time can be as much as 1,200g. This is equivalent to a human hitting their head against a wall while running at 16 mph — each and every strike.    

How does a woodpecker avoid damage to its brain and eyes from the constant hammering? To protect the brain, the skull has developed two thick spongy sections, one in front of the brain and the other behind it, which help to absorb the shock.  In woodpecker species that spend a great deal of time hammering rather than pecking and flicking, this frontal section is larger. A woodpecker’s behavior can also reduce the impact of the blows by slightly changing the angle of each strike  thereby preventing an impact to the same part of the brain with each blow.

A woodpecker’s eyes are also vulnerable to damage and, not surprisingly, here too they’ve evolved several adaptations to minimize damage. With the bird’s head moving at such speed and then coming to an immediate stop their eyes could be damaged and possibly pop out of their sockets. To prevent this, a nictitating membrane, sometimes referred to as a bird’s “third eyelid,” closes an instant before impact keeping eyes securely in their socket and preventing any wood chips from damaging the eyes. Similarly, a tuft of short feathers situated at the base of the upper bill serves to prevent chips from flying into the eyes.

The adaptations don’t stop here, as woodpecker’s tongues might be the most fascinating example of “form begeting function” in this unique group of birds.  The shape of woodpecker tongues is quite diverse. 

A male Northern Flicker identified by his black whisker. Pixabay photo

Sapsucker tongues, which as their name suggest, lick sap from holes (known as sap wells) they’ve created in tree bark, are brush-like to help lap up the liquid. In contrast, woodpeckers that search for beetle grubs in rotted wood have tongues that are stiff and barbed, with some possessing backward pointing spines like a fish hook to assist in extracting prey. Sticky saliva also helps in capturing prey. 

If you stick out your tongue you can feel it is anchored to the bottom of your mouth, toward the back. Not so with woodpeckers. Remarkably, their tongues are not anchored in their mouths at all; they are anchored in their forehead near the base of the upper bill and wraps entirely around their skull. This makes the tongue quite extendable and in Northern Flickers means they can stick their tongues out a full two inches beyond the tip of the bill, a good skill to have for nabbing ants from a distance.   

Virtually all woodpeckers are cavity nesters with most taking the time to excavate the nesting and roosting cavities they use. In this way, woodpeckers play a crucial role in providing nesting opportunities for other cavity nesting birds such as Screech Owls, Eastern Bluebirds, Black-capped Chickadees, Tufted Titmice,  and Great-crested Flycatchers. In total, woodpecker cavities are used by more than 40 bird species in North America for nesting and roosting and provide shelter to several mammals such as flying squirrels and even some snake and lizard species.  

Read Part II of Wonderful Woodpeckers in the issue of November 21 or click here.

A resident of Setauket, author John L. Turner is a naturalist, conservation co-chair of the Four Harbors Audubon Society, and Conservation Policy Advocate for the Seatuck Environmental Association.

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Pixabay photo
A Column Promoting a More Earth-Friendly Lifestyle

By John L. Turner

John Turner

As Halloween nears, countless front porches in neighborhoods throughout the North Shore will be adorned with pumpkins of many shapes, sizes and expressions. But soon, following Halloween but perhaps lasting until Thanksgiving, their use as ornaments to frighten, amuse, and delight will end and homeowners are faced with what to do with them. Nationally, this is no small issue, as the United States Department of Agriculture notes about one billion pounds of pumpkins are thrown away each fall. 

If you’re looking for a more environmentally beneficial alternative than putting pumpkins in your curbside trash where they can cause methane production problems, you can: 

1) Compost your pumpkins (breaking them into smaller pieces accelerates the composting process); 

2) If there’s a farm, petting zoo, or a neighbor with chickens, bring them your pumpkins to nourish their animals;

3) Leave the pumpkins in a back corner to feed squirrels and other backyard wildlife through the cold season; or

4) Consume them! Puree the flesh for soup, pie or pumpkin bread and roast and salt the seeds (high in several minerals).    

By following one of these practices you’ll conclude your celebration of the fall holiday season in a way that also celebrates the planet! 

A resident of Setauket, author John L. Turner is conservation chair of the Four Harbors Audubon Society, author of “Exploring the Other Island: A Seasonal Nature Guide to Long Island” and president of Alula Birding & Natural History Tours.

 

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Stone Bridge Nighthawk Watch 2024. Photo by Rosemary Auld

By John Turner and Patrice Domeischel

The 2024 season of the Stone Bridge Nighthawk Watch, held on the southern bridge in Frank Melville Memorial Park in Setauket, ended on October 6.

The Watch is conducted every year by the Four Harbors Audubon Society, a chapter of the National Audubon Society, and in partnership with the Frank Melville Memorial Foundation. It  runs for 41 evenings — from August 27th through October 6th — from 5:30 p.m. to dusk. This was the eighth year of the Watch. 

The purpose is to count the number of nighthawks in an effort to provide a reliable data base which we hope will inform avian conservationists regarding trends in abundance of this fascinating, insect-eating bird.     

From the bridge compilers counted each Common Nighthawk passing by as they migrated south, ultimately destined to reach their overwintering grounds in central South America, which ranges from the Amazon River basin south to northern Argentina.

Common Nighthawks aren’t hawks, their closest Long Island relatives being two species of nightjars — Whip-poor-wills and Chuck-Will’s-Widows, both of which breed in the Long Island Pine Barrens.

The results for the 2024 season were disappointing with only 669 common nighthawks tallied, by far the worst year of the eight years of the Watch. We had only one day where we tallied a triple digit count with 103 nighthawks observed on Sept. 12. 

Totals for the other seven years are: 2046 nighthawks in 2017, 2018 nighthawks in 2018, 2757 nighthawks in 2019, 2245 nighthawks in 2020, 1819 nighthawks in 2021, 1625 nighthawks in 2022, and 1022 nighthawks in 2023.  

We don’t know the cause for this decline but weather is a suspected cause. A low pressure system sat over the North Atlantic for more than a week at the end of the Watch and some conjectured that it created unfavorable winds for migration. Hopefully we’ll have a better tally next year!

We were, though, rewarded with beautiful sunsets, by stunning cloud patterns, and many other interesting bird species including Wood Ducks (talk about eye candy!), several instances of adult Bald Eagles passing directly overhead, Blue Jays flying above us with bills and throats filled with acorns they were on the way to hoard away in hidden spots to ensure an ample winter food supply, a daily back and forth from a raucous pair of Belted Kingfishers, and the nightly antics of erratic flying bats actively feeding on aerial insects, employing their otherworldly echolocation skills to do so. 

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Stony Brook Mill Pond. Photo by Giselle Barkley
John Turner

The Ecology and Evolution Department at Stony Brook University, 100 Nicolls Road, Stony Brook continues its Living World lecture series with “Should the Mill Pond Be Rebuilt? Reconnecting Severed Threads” with guest speaker John F. Turner, Division of Land Management for the Town of Brookhaven, in the Javits Lecture Center, Room 111 on the West Campus on Monday, Oct. 21 at 6 p.m.

Some landscape features such as the thousands of dams installed in rivers have severed or compromised ecological connections for animal species, especially migratory fishes. Turner will describe the solutions to such problems, including the recent strong rainstorms in this region that broke several dams, giving an opportunity for restorations that restore fish migration routes.
A noted Long Island Naturalist, John Turner is a founder of the Long island Pine Barrens Association, has worked on land restoration in Long Island for decades and is an officer in the Seatuck Environmental Association and the Four Harbors Audubon Society.
The event is free. For more information, call 631-632-8600.

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Pixabay photo

By John L. Turner

“Forests full of fallen leaves are a gift trees give to themselves.” — Jim Finley

John Turner

Often it is the commonplace things we overlook. We pay little to no mind to trees adorned with the green leaves of summer. But come autumn, leaves with their riotous colors suddenly command our attention, so much so that we sometimes drive long distances to view this annual gift.  And, of course, they also command the attention of homeowners once they fall to earth as it’s time for the annual task of raking leaves.  

What causes the change in leaf color? Trees are finely attuned to environmental conditions and as summer melds into autumn, the changes in temperature and daylight length are slight — hardly, if at all, noticeable to us. But not so with the trees of Long Island’s forests. They are attuned to incremental changes in environmental conditions and the leaf color change is evidence trees have begun to prepare for the impending winter although it is still several months away. 

During the summer leaves are filled with chlorophyll, a vital pigment necessary for plants to photosynthesize. Remarkably, these chlorophyll pigments use sunlight, water, and carbon dioxide (the stuff we exhale) to produce the sugars they need to maintain and grow plant tissue while emitting life-giving oxygen for us. Leaves are the food factories of trees. 

As summer wears on, trees begin to break down chlorophyll pigments, reabsorbing the vital nitrogen that’s part of the chlorophyll molecule, which as a result reveals the presence of other pigments. The color of the leaf depends on which of these pigments appear — anthocyanin produces red colored leaves, xanthophyll creates yellow, and carotene results in orange and gold.  As dedicated leaf peepers have learned over the years, a fall season with cool nights and warm sunny days produces the most intense colors. 

There are a dozen or so tree species along the North Shore providing the riot of color that a spectacular autumn burst can bring. Two wetland trees are especially colorful, indeed brilliant — red maple and black tupelo. Their leaves turn an intense orange-red, so colorful it appears if they are illuminated from an internal light source. Tupelo starts turning early, beginning in mid-August. Add to this the butter yellow of the hickories, the lemon-yellow of sassafras, the bright red of scarlet oak (easy to understand how it got its name when you see it in autumn splendor), the similarly colored red oak, the solid tan of beech, the duller orange of black oak, and the solid gold of black birch, and it’s clear that Long Island’s forests can paint an eye-pleasing show!       

In writing this article I came to wonder how many leaves drift to the ground each autumn from trees growing in North America. Sure enough, there was an answer on the Internet — according to one article there are 203,257,948,035 trees in North America (that’s over 203 billion trees). Further, each tree has about 200,000 leaves (seems very high to me, but let’s go with it). Do the math and this results in 40,651,600,000,000,000 leaves (more than 40 quadrillion leaves or 4.06 to the 16th power) falling to the ground each fall. Get out the rakes folks!  

Once you focus on leaves, the intrigue begins concerning the great diversity in size and especially shape. Leaves on Long Island trees basically come in two forms — simple and divided. A simple leaf is a leaf that has a single surface even if that surface has points or lobes. Oak, birch, cherry, dogwood, or maple leaves are examples of simple leaves. Other trees have divided leaves  — hickory, locust, and walnut come to mind — in which the single leaf has several to many smaller leaflets. In this case  the  divided leaf with all the leaflets and not the individual leaflets is what falls from the tree. 

The sassafras tree, a common constituent in Long Island’s forests, has the distinction of having three different shaped leaves growing on the same tree. These shapes have been likened to a glove, mitten, and fist although the glove shaped leaf looks to me more like a dinosaur footprint or the glove of an alien’s hand!   

And then there’s the question of why deciduous and a few coniferous trees shed their leaves before the onset of winter? Given the freezing cold that brings ice and snow with strong winds, if a tree maintained leaves it would increase the chances it topples over as the leaves act as a collective sail. Similarly, the surface area of the leaves gather snow and ice, burdening the tree and branches, likely causing branches to snap. As importantly, if leaves were retained through the winter the tree would attempt to continue to photosynthesize which requires water but water would often not be available in the frozen soil creating great stress on the tree, enough stress to kill it.   

Now you’re thinking that’s fine John but what about all those evergreen tree species like pines and spruces since they retain their leaves throughout the winter. How do they survive since they have to cope with the same conditions that led deciduous trees to  shed their leaves? First, many evergreens have needles which, based on their shape, don’t hold snow or ice like the broad leaves of deciduous trees and are better at passing wind through their foliage. Further, they also often have a waxy coating that retards water loss (this waxy coating on pitch pine needles is one reason why the Pine Barrens can have intense wildfires). Because of these adaptations evergreens can retain their needles and grow in colder climates than deciduous trees.  

Shed leaves play a key role in driving some ecosystems. For example, leaves falling into vernal pools, small seasonal wetlands, form the base of the pool’s food chain. Many invertebrate species shred or decompose the leaves into microscopic pieces which are then fed upon by other animals and bacteria. These species serve as food for predators such as dragonfly and damselfly nymphs as well as many species of frogs and salamanders. Without leaves the vernal pool system would starve and ultimately collapse. 

In Robert Frost’s wonderful poem “Gathering Leaves” he talks about the difficulty and perhaps futileness of raking and bagging them:

 

    Spades take up leaves

    No better than spoons,

    And bags full of leaves

    Are light as balloons.

    I make a great noise

    Of rustling all day

    Like rabbit and deer

    Running away.

 

    But the mountains I raise

    Elude my embrace,

    Flowing over my arms

    And into my face.

 

    I may load and unload

    Again and again

    Till I fill the whole shed,

    And what have I then?

 

    Next to nothing for weight,

    And since they grew duller

    From contact with earth,

    Next to nothing for color.

 

    Next to nothing for use,

    But a crop is a crop,

    And who’s to say where

    The harvest shall stop?

 

His frustration for the annual ritual can, today, be largely avoided by limiting your raking and bagging of leaves by making layers of leaves in your flower and tree beds. Better yet, leave them in place, if at all possible, to help protect all varieties of insects and other animals that benefit from thick leaf cover. As eco-conscious homeowners have embraced: “Leave the leaves!” 

A resident of Setauket, author John L. Turner is conservation chair of the Four Harbors Audubon Society, author of “Exploring the Other Island: A Seasonal Nature Guide to Long Island” and president of Alula Birding & Natural History Tours.

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A Column Promoting a More Earth-Friendly Lifestyle

By John L. Turner

John Turner

Recent research has documented that birds are attracted to, but often disoriented by, outdoor lighting. There are many instances of migrating birds flying over suburban and urban areas becoming entrained in these areas, attracted by the glow of countless buildings and street lights. Unfortunately, this often leads to fatal consequences for birds as they collide with the windows that adorn so many modern urban and suburban buildings. 

The death of more than one thousand birds flying into the glass facade of McCormick Place in Chicago in October of last year is a stark reminder of the danger that excessive lighting can pose to birds.  

What can you do as a home or business owner? Very simple and straightforward — shut off excessive outdoor lighting to reduce your contribution to the upward glow that negatively affects birds. Before you automatically throw on the light switch controlling the outdoor lights give a thought about the birds flying overhead during their winged journeys.

A resident of Setauket, author John L. Turner is conservation chair of the Four Harbors Audubon Society, author of “Exploring the Other Island: A Seasonal Nature Guide to Long Island” and president of Alula Birding & Natural History Tours.

 

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By John L. Turner

John Turner

As summer melds into autumn, the changes in temperature and daylight length are hardly, if at all, noticeable to us. But not so with the trees of Long Island’s forests. They are attuned to incremental changes in environmental conditions and have begun to prepare for the impending winter although it is still several months away.

The first and most conspicuous sign of this preparation is the color change in the countless leaves adorning the almost countless trees. During the summer leaves are filled with chlorophyll pigment necessary for plants to photosynthesize. As summer wears on, trees begin to break down chlorophyll pigments, reabsorbing the vital nitrogen and as a result other pigments are revealed. The color of the leaf depends on which pigments appear — anthocyanin produces red colored leaves, xanthophyll creates yellow, and carotene results in orange and gold. A fall season with cool nights and warm sunny days produces the most intense colors. 

There are a dozen or so tree species along the North Shore providing the riot of color a that a spectacular autumn burst can bring. Two wetland trees are especially colorful, indeed brilliant — red maple and black tupelo. Their leaves turn an intense orange-red, so colorful it appears if they are illuminated from an internal light source.  Tupelo starts turning early — beginning in mid-August. 

Add to this the butter yellow of the hickories, the lemon-yellow of sassafras, the bright red of scarlet oak (easy to understand how it got its name when you see it in autumn splendor), the similarly colored red oak, the solid tan of beech, the duller orange of black oak, and the solid gold of black birch, and it’s clear that Long Island’s forests can paint an eye-pleasing show!       

Fortunately, there are many parks and preserves along the county’s North Shore where you can see leaf change. Caleb Smith State Park Preserve in Smithtown can be a go-to locale given the amount of red maple and tupelo growing in and along the park’s numerous wetlands. The same goes for the adjacent Blydenburgh County Park. Cordwood Landing County Park in Miller Place, a gem situated on the shore of Long Island Sound, produces a nice palette of color that includes two rarer orange-leaved trees — Hornbeam and Hop Hornbeam.  

A walk along the Long Island Greenbelt Trail in Arthur Kunz County Park on the west side of the Nissequogue River, accessed from Landing Avenue in Smithtown, can be good for leaf peeping with an added bonus of beautiful views of the river and its marshland, the grasses of which turn an attractive russet color in the fall. 

Makamah County Nature Preserve in Fort Salonga is similar — colorful woodland scenes with peeks out to the adjacent marshland. A less well-known county park, fine for leaf peeping, is Rassapeague County Park located in the Village of Nissequogue along Long Beach Road. 

A little further afield, the 100,000 acre Pine Barrens Preserve of central and eastern Suffolk County offers many places to view the leaf change and is especially beautiful in certain areas as the bright red and orange of the red maples and black tupelos blend with the tans, browns and burgundy of various oaks. Adding to the palette here are the medium green colors of Pitch Pine and in some places the darker greens of Atlantic White Cedar. 

Good places in the Pine Barrens to see the leaf change are the Quogue Wildlife Refuge, Cranberry Bog County Nature Preserve accessed by County Route 63 in Riverhead, and The Nature Conservancy’s Calverton Pond Preserve in Manorville.

A resident of Setauket, author John L. Turner is conservation chair of the Four Harbors Audubon Society, author of “Exploring the Other Island: A Seasonal Nature Guide to Long Island” and president of Alula Birding & Natural History Tours.

This article originally appeared in TBR News Media’s Harvest Times supplement on Sept. 12.

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