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by Kyle Bradford.

 

Winter is here and ants have burrowed deep underground or have sealed themselves off in whatever medium they nest in. Some have filled themselves with glycerol (a kind of antifreeze) and fat reserves to feed on. In any case they are hibernating; giving ant collectors time to reflect on observations from the field season.

This year was a fruitful one for our ant work. We added four species to our County List. For the first time in over two field seasons, we witnessed slave raids on multiple occasions. We even had a friend in the County contact us about seeing this phenomenon. Our firsthand observations resulted in a compilation of photos and gave inspiration to dive deeper into this amazing ant behavior.

 

Some background on slave-making.

What is curious about slave-making ants is that they have evolved only in the temperate regions of the world. Only 50 ant species out of the 12,500 described are known to have this lifestyle (see reference 2). In the Field Guide to New England Ants, Aaron Ellison and colleagues include ten slave-making species, which are currently known from the region (3). The remaining 40 species occur in the rest of temperate North America, Europe and Asia. Out of the ten known from New England we have found five of these to reside in Columbia County.

 

Table 1: Slave-making species recorded for New England and Columbia County, NY.

Species Recorded in New England	Recorded in Columbia County, NY?
Formica aserva	Y
Formica creightoni	N
Formica pergandei	N
Formica rubicunda	Y
Formica subintegra	Y
Harpagoxenus canadensis	N
Polyergus cf longicornis	N
Polyergus lucidus	Y
Polyergus montivagus	N
Protomognathus americanus	Y

Although we say “slaves,” ant slaves are not really analogous to slaves in human society. Instead ants “enslave” different species from their own. Additionally, the slaves in the ant colony are not forced to do anything novel – they just carry on the same tasks as they would have in their own colony. This is more akin to humans domesticating animals for work.

Slave-makers are considered parasites. A parasite is an organism that is dependent on a host for at least part of their life cycle. Slave-maker queens depend on a host to start a colony. In an ant colony all of the workers you see are sterile females. However, there is one queen or in some species multiple queens in the nest who are laying eggs. These eggs metamorphose from larvae to pupae and then into a sterile female, a winged queen, or a winged male. Winged queens and males are only produced for reproduction, whereas sterile females do the work around the nest. At some point in the year, often late summer, the nest will have a reproductive flight referred to as a nuptial flight. All of the winged queens and males will exit the nest to mate. The mated queens then shed their wings and attempt to find a nest site and lay their first eggs.

The difference for slave-making or parasitic species is instead of finding their own nest site they find a host species’ nest and attempt to take it over. They do this by removing or killing the host queen. The benefit of being a parasite is that the queen already has an established, successful nest to start in with plenty of workers to help raise her first young.

Generally, survival rates of newly-mated queens are extremely low. This is especially true in cold climates where harsh weather really makes survival difficult. A parasitic lifestyle may have higher survival rates. This may be part of the reason why slave-makers have evolved in cold climates and not in the tropics.

For ant parasitism to work, the parasite queen must trick the host workers into thinking she belongs in the nest. Ants distinguish their sisters from other ants by their specific pheromones. Parasitic queens have to smell like the nest. The slave-maker queen may do this in a variety of ways, including covering herself in the guts of a queen or worker she killed.

Eventually, as the new queen’s eggs hatch and older workers die, the host species workers begin to be replaced by the parasitic species. This can become a problem because many parasitic species are dependent on host workers for survival. Some more advanced slave-makers (obligate slave-makers) depend completely on their hosts for nest maintenance, foraging, and brood care (nurturing ant eggs into adult ants). When obligate slave-makers experience a shortage of host workers to do such duties around the nest, the parasite workers go on a slave raid.

Generally, raids are most likely to occur during hot, sunny summer afternoons. The process begins when workers are cued that there’s a need for more slave labor. Slave-maker “scouts” exit the nest and begin their search for a host nest. When a nest is found, scent trails are laid back to the home nest. Slave-raiders are recruited, and the stealing of ant larvae and pupae begins. For most slave-making species, the already-enslaved host never participates in slave raiding. However, host species of the western US slave-maker Formica wheeleri have been known to join in on raids (5).

Slave-makers can travel great distances (by ant standards) for their kidnapping activities and are skilled at finding nests. In one raid we witnessed, they traveled nearly 90 feet to the host nest. The host nest was inconspicuous, being hidden under leaf litter. If I hadn’t followed the raiding party I wouldn’t have known a nest was there.

 

Some details on the lives of two of our most conspicuous slave-making species

 Polyergus lucidus, the Amazon Ant.

This is our most fascinating slave-maker. Commonly known as Amazon Ants, Polyergus lucidus is a magnificent shiny, ruby red and has unique mandibles that resemble the curved blades of sickles. These mandibles are specialized for combat but are impractical for chores around the nest.

  The Amazon’s piercing mandibles

This species does not live in the Amazon or any other tropical region. Instead they are endemic to northern North America. Their distribution is from Southern New England west to Wisconsin and south to high elevation meadows in the Carolinas (9). The common name refers to the Amazon warrior women in Greek mythology, this is fitting because all worker ants are females. These ants like to fight and pillage, but otherwise live quite a royal lifestyle. They are incapable of feeding themselves or rearing their young, instead depending on slaves for these tasks.

The above photo shows a winged Amazon queen on the left and the slave species Formica incerta on the right. In any ant colony, the queens are crucial to the success of a species. So when there are winged virgin queens in the nest, workers are likely to protect them. In the photo the slave species is escorting the Amazon queen back to safety after being disturbed. This task wouldn’t be done by an Amazon worker. In fact, when an Amazon nest is disturbed the Amazon workers run around erratically trying to sink their teeth into the intruder. If they can’t find the intruder, they quickly go back underground leaving the slaves to fix the damage.

An Amazon worker on the attack.

The Amazons seem rare in Columbia County, and are listed by the IUCN as “vulnerable to endangerment.” We have only seen them in two locations: in a Philmont cemetery and a pasture at Hawthorne Valley. The Philmont cemetery colony was found in 2013. When I revisited it in 2014 it was no longer active. Amazons may have relocated their nest. Nest relocations can be quite common for some ant species. However, one distinctive reason among slave-makers is to relocate to gain access to more host colonies after local exploitation (1). In 1910 Wheeler suggested this for Amazons, although some have speculated that there are other reasons for Amazon nest relocation (6, 7).

It is also noted that Amazons are susceptible to local extinction, because they are dependent on large stable populations of host species. If abundant host populations are not stable, because of disturbance, Amazons are not likely to survive in that location (4).

   The two sites where we have found Amazons. They tend to like dry open habitats where there is an abundance of their host species Formica incerta.

Grace Barber, a graduate student at UMass Amherst, has been working on ants in the Albany Pine Bush. She has found Amazons there and has posted a fantastic video of their slave raid!

 

Formica subintegra

Two of the slave raids we witnessed this year were from the species Formica subintegra. We have found these ants in open forest and meadow habitats.

subintegra is widespread in the County.

One raid happened on the sun exposed ledges around No Bottom Pond in Austerlitz during an August afternoon. The following photographs are from that raid.

 

Part of the subintegra raiding party.

 

 An unlucky host species becomes defenseless as masses of raiders enter the nest.

Formica subintegra have special enlarged glands that secrete what EO Wilson has termed “propaganda substances” (8). These chemicals are effective in alarming the host colony. Instead of fending off the raiders they are put into a frightened frenzy out of the nest. This makes it much easier for the slave-makers to enter the nest and take brood. Any resisting hosts that haven’t fled are out-numbered and easily defeated.

Generally, raided host nests by subintegra are not destroyed. I have not seen any description of subintegra killing a queen during a raid, and presumably a raided nest can recover.

 

A subintegra looks on as two of her sisters drag out a decapitated host as they start raiding the nest.

subintegra carrying a stolen pupa back to her home nest.

 

It was a pleasure observing these slave raids in the field. These animals that share our landscape are truly unique and fascinating. If you are out on a hot summer day in a dry oak forest or an old field keep an eye on the ground. You might be lucky enough to see a march of Amazons or a raid in the leaf litter.

 

 

For Further Reading

 A Field Guide to New England Ants – Aaron Ellison – This is what we use for species level identification. It has ecological information for each species and is geared toward the layperson. It does have an overview of basic ant ecology.

Journey to the Ants – Bert Holldobler and EO Wilson – A condensed, non-technical overview of interesting myrmecology (ant studies) especially that of Holldobler and Wilson’s. It is combined with photographs and neat illustrations. Has a chapter on social parasites which includes slave ants.

Adventures among Ants – Mark Moffett – A taste of ant ecology from around the world with spectacular photographs. Also has a chapter on slave-makers with information pertaining to species we have.

 

 Full Works Cited

1. Apple, J., Lewandowski, S., & Levine, J. (2014). Nest relocation in the slavemaking ants Formica subintegra and Formica pergandei: A response to host nest availability that increases raiding success. Soc.
2. D’Ettorre, P., & Heinze, J. (2001). Sociobiology of slave-making ants. Acta Ethol, (3), 67-82.
3. Ellison, A., Gotelli, N., Farnsworth, E., & Alpert, G. (2012). A Field Guide to the Ants of New England. New Haven: Yale University Press.
4. Fisher, B., & Cover, S. (2007). Ants of North America: A Guide to the Genera. Berkeley: University of California Press.
5. Holldobler, B., & Wilson, E. (1994). Journey to the Ants: A Story of Scientific Exploration. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
6. Kwait E.C. and Topoff H. (1983). Emigration raids by slave-making ants: a rapid-transit system for colony relocation (Hymenoptera: Formicidae). Psyche (90), 307–312.
7. Marlin A.J.C. (1971). The mating, nesting and ant enemies of Polyergus lucidus Mayr (Hymenoptera: Formicidae). Am. Midl. Nat. (86), 181–189.
8. Regnier, F., & Wilson, E. (1971). Chemical Communication and “Propaganda” in Slave-Maker Ants. Science, 172(3980), 267-269.
9. Trager, J. (2013). Global revision of the dulotic ant genus Polyergus (Hymenoptera: Formicidae, Formicinae, Formicini). Zootaxa, (4), 548-548.

The freshwater tidal swamp of the Lewis A. Swyer Preserve in Stuyvesant was the destination of our Natural History Outing on July 6th. The Hawthorne Valley Farmscape Ecology Program facilitates these Natural History Outings as a way to invite anybody to participate in the joy of discovering and documenting the plants and animals of different areas in Columbia County. These outings are not guided nature walks, but impromptu explorations, often at locations we have never (or at least not in a long time) visited ourselves. Please check our calendar if you are interested in participating in future outings.

The Lewis A. Swyer Preserve, which is owned and managed by The Nature Conservancy, was established to protect one of the five largest areas of freshwater tidal swamp in New York. It surrounds the mouth of Mill Creek and is influenced by the twice daily tidal change in water level of the Hudson River (~ 4 feet!) and Mill Creek. To learn more about the regional significance of this type of habitat, please read here.

This posting illustrates some of the plants, plant communities, and animals we found on July 6th, while walking on the 1/2 mile boardwalk that connects the trailhead on Route 9J (2 miles north of Stuyvesant Landing) to a little observation tower next to the railroad tracks at the mouth of Mill Creek.

The trees of the freshwater tidal swamp forest along the boardwalk are mostly Swamp White Oak, Red Maple, and three species of ash (White, Green, and Black Ash).

The most prominent plants on the ground under the trees are Hog Peanut, Skunk Cabbage, and Sensitive Fern.

Canada Lily was a notable presence during our visit.

Some where browsed by deer, who seem to enjoy eating the flower buds, but many were in full bloom.

Canada Lily blossom with its companion plants, Sensitive Fern and Hog Peanut.

Poison Ivy is a constant presence along the sides of the boardwalk with enormous vines climbing many of the trees and forming canopies of their own below and intermingled with the trees canopies. The leaves surrounding the largest bole in this images, as well as the leaves entering the image from the right, are all Poison Ivy. Needless to say, we were very thankful for the boardwalk which kept us at a safe distance from most of it.

Part of our group trying to catch a glimpse of an elusive bird high up in a tree. Otter (in red T-shirt) is trying out his new camera to see if he can get a shot…

… and succeeded in documenting this Great Crested Flycatcher.

The most common shrub along the boardwalk is Spicebush, which was so common that we forgot to take a picture.

However, there were some other interesting plants along the way:

American Hazelnut, which we rarely see with beautiful fruits. And fruits they had…

When in fruit, our two native Hazelnuts are easily distinguished. The fruits of American Hazelnut are surrounded by “fringed” (botanists speak of “laciniate”) bracts (leaf-like structures), while the fruits of Beaked Hazelnut are covered by bracts which are prolonged beyond the nut into a long, slender beak. In Columbia County, American Hazelnut is usually found in the western part, near the Hudson River, while Beaked Hazelnut is the common species found in the Taconics and the hills in the eastern part of the County.

Ninebark is another shrub which is found in our County exclusively along the Hudson River. It is a member of the Rose family, with leaves reminiscent of Hawthorn, but its fruits are dry, four-parted capsules (a bit like the core of an apple without the apple around it).

Carrion Flower (so named because of the somewhat rotten smell of its flowers) is a non-woody vine related to Greenbriar. Its leaves have a characteristic venation with several parallel veins and only very faint cross-veins. The fruits ripen to a very dark blue color.

A Fishing Spider of the family Pisauridae was guarding its nursery web (bottom left), filled with tiny spiderlets. The body of the mother spider was about an inch long.

A Daddy Long-legs or Harvestman, a relative of spiders in the order Opiliones. Daddy Long-legs differ from true spiders in the way they eat: Spiders can only suck liquid food, while Daddy Long-legs can eat small particles of insects, plants, fungi, or dead matter.

This and the following image show two different species of Robberfly or Assassin Fly. This group of insects are powerful predators on other insects. They usually catch their prey in flight and then insert their mouthparts to suck out the juices.

 

One of the small tributaries draining from the freshwater tidal swamp into Mill Creek at receding tide.

Pickerelweed is emerging at the shore of the creek at low tide. During high tide, most of the stalks are submersed and only the leaves and blue flowers stick out of the water.

A section of the boardwalk near the observation tower. The tree cover is sparser here and allows a dense stand of sedges (Carex trichocarpa) to dominate the vegetation on the ground.

Water Hemlock (Cicuta maculata), one of our most poisonous plants in the County (and totally unrelated to our Hemlock trees, but a close relative of the Hemlock that Socrates took to end his life), stands tall next to the boardwalk, surrounded by the broad arrow-shaped leaves of Arrow Arum.

Another view from the boardwalk into more open vegetation along Mill Creek.

Two Silver-spotted Skippers frolicking around the flowers of Tall Meadow-rue.

This somewhat blurry image was taken at a long distance because we were both curious about the butterfly and the plant, but could identify neither from where we stood. The flower shape fits with Stachys sp., and the plant is most likely Smooth hedge-nettle (Stachys tenuifolia), not American Germander, as we had guessed in the field. The butterfly is one of the Skipper species, most likely Broadwing or Dion Skipper.

This spherical inflorescence belongs to Buttonbush, which was in full bloom and attracted a variety of butterflies and other insects. Here pictured is the Least Skipper. We also saw an Azure and a Little Wood Satyr feeding on Buttonbush flowers.

According to Kathy Schmidt, a local snail expert, who is also known as the talented nature illustrator whose beautiful drawings adorn most outreach materials produced by our colleagues from Hudsonia Ltd., the following (and last) image is of an Ovate Ambersnail (Novisuccinea ovalis), a native air-breathing land snail which loves humid microclimates.

 

Rainstorms, sunshine, melting ice…the signs of January thaw have settled in this week.  I recently became fascinated by this phenomenon as I was working on our Perspectives on Place column for The Columbia Paper (forthcoming this week).  It was all set to be a wintry reverie on Januaries past, but as soon as I started looking back over historical accounts of Januaries in Columbia County, I realized that the ‘wintry’ weather was often interrupted by warm spells, sometimes even noted as the “January thaw”.

In the diary of John Cowper Powys, local author and Harlemville resident in the 1930s, there are especially rich descriptions of these thawing days of January, including a warm spell lasting nearly half the month in 1932, and an early January day in 1934 when the temperature rose 60 degrees F, from 20 below to 40 above.  In the midst of our recent 50 degree F temperature swing, I set off up the road to Powys’ house, to look at a melting landscape through the double lens of a digital camera and diary descriptions written some 80 years ago (excerpted below).

Use of excerpts from John Cowper Powys’ diary is made possible with special thanks to The Powys Society.

Rushing Streams and Ice Floes

Saturday, January 9th, 1932

It is still Warm & wet.  Albert told me that with a pole he had cleared our bridge of Debris that might have caused its overthrow in the wild rush of water after heavy rain & melting snow.  Albert had started working in the garden for the T.T. [Powys’ nickname for his partner Phyllis Playter].

Thursday, January 25th, 1934

All is thawing!  Then I went to Prometheus Stone … could see his footstool with the water clear of ice rushing over it.  But I actually crossed the river our own river near that high bank…Huge floes of thick ice were there under [where] the water ran.

Icy Puddles and Green Grass

Monday, January 18th, 1931

But it is another PERFECT DAY.  When I came down the sun was half-risen over the ridge.  So warm was it that I opened the front door and kept it open wide all morning and we had breakfast with it wide open – think of that, on Jan 18….There has been a faint hoar-frost and some of the puddles had a little ice on them & patches of grass had a little rime on it – very little. 

Thursday, January 14th, 1932

Another Unique Day – Warmer Still…. We all sat in the wall & the T.T. took photos…The grass by the edge of the Rock bed & Round Bed is quite green not the usual dead winter grass.  And big blue-bottle flies go humming past your ears like Summer & the Hellebore bud under the Stump has come out…& wonderful white flower.  The T.T. brought out deck chair for me to sit & write on Porch. 

[Conrad pointed out that in a previous blog post we have a photo (the third one down) of Powys and Playter sitting on the stone wall in front of their house – might this have been taken on this balmy January day when photos were being taken?]

Looking Out at the Orchard

Tuesday, January 26th, 1932

Back in my own orchard – on the mossy turf by our gate – I gazed through the warm spring-like sunshine at the 4 cows coming slowly and gravely forth.

Wednesday, January 27th, 1932

…looking out at the rain falling against the Pump, against the apple-tree and I looked at the wide expanse of the valley the higher fields light straw coloured dead grass and the Lower fields where innumerable stalks & seeds of dead flowers are a remarkable reddish-colour, brownish-reddish, like the bark of elm trees gets when it has been deluged by the rain for many hours.

Wednesday, January 4th, 1933

A Perfect Spring Day. O lovely Day! O woeful day!     Down at 7.35. Wind South-East. Warm sunshine – everything golden. A flock of blackbirds (starlings Albert calls them) on the Apple-tree, on the cherry-tree – on the Field Hickory Tree – tumbling and tossing in massed patterns to the ground & back & making a twittering very sweet…. a Linos song [?] – like elfin violins.

Tawny Fields

Tuesday, January 20th, 1931

Took the Black [his dog] over bridge and by river and up hill.  The yellow stalks were shining gold and on each were many diamonds of melting ice.  I counted 4 on an upright grass on its stalk and 5 on a horizontal grass bent down by age. 

Friday, January 19th, 1934

It is so warm so warm, so warm …  I had only time to get to the Spinny but the brown-reddish Twigs against the blue-grey Ridge – aye!  but the Ridge was a lovely grey-blue & so insubstantial & poetical – I gazed at Phudd too & rather dodged my Rigmarole in consequence.

Saturday, January 6th, 1934

…took the Old [same dog] to the Battlefield [nickname for a local field] & walked over it.  It was pure gold – what wondrous tints the dead grass gives to these taw[n]y leonine fields.

Misty, Wild Hills

Sunday, January 4th, 1931

Got up at 9.15 very late – all foggy – Summit of Phudd invisible….The far ridges invisible.  All thawing….The grass & earth were visible again because of the Thaw.

Tuesday, January 12th, 1931

It is a beautiful day.  It is warm.  It is misty sunshine.  It is like spring.  It almost has the smell of Violets.  The hills of the Ridges are all misty & little patches of blue keep coming in the sky.

Thursday, January 14th, 1932

It is – it  is – incredibly warm 0 warm lovely sunshine – warm as May – warmer than April – O and the heavenly indescribable scents that came out of the earth – the muddy wet drenched earth.  Yesterday when I lay my back to a stone fence on the top of the One-Tree Hill above the Fir Tree House I had an ecstasy of pleasure at the deep deep deep beautiful lonely wildness of Columbia County.

What signs of thaw or wild beauty do you see in this January landscape?

In 1847, Asa Fitch, who was to become New York’s (in fact, the USA’s first) state entomologist, published a paper entitled “Winter Insects of Eastern New York“, it was based primarily on his observation in and around his home of Salem in Washington County. The paper begins with this evocative introduction,

It is the object of the following paper, to describe those insects of Eastern New York, which occur in their perfect state in the winter, and are peculiar to that season and the early part of spring. They are objects of curiosity, as coming forth to our view in full maturity and vigor, at that time of year when almost every other member of the animal and vegetable kingdoms is reposing in torpidity under the chilling influence of the solstitial cold. In an economical aspect, they possess but little importance, their period of life being limited to that season when the field furnishes no herbage, the garden no flowers, and the orchard no fruits, on which they can prey. They are chiefly interesting, therefore, merely as objects of scientific research – as forming integral parts of that vast array of animated beings, with which the Father of Life has populated our world, and rendered it vocal with his praise.

What better way for historic and modern entomologist to buck the winter doldrums than to sally forth, nose to the snow, to see which black specks are actually “animated beings”. Fitch named eight species, all of which he believed to be new to science. He has since lost credit for only one of these names, one species apparently having been, unknown to him, named by a predecessor. Camera in hand, we headed off to see how many of these creatures might still be found in the neighborhood.

One of the more perplexing creatures we quickly stumbled upon was this one (it’s about 1/10th of an inch long)-

We found a couple of these, and each one seemed to go through bouts of activity followed by moments of rest. When ‘alert’, the insect would stretch out its body, antennae and legs and begin a march across the snow. In action, they took on this form –

As one can see in these photos, these are slightly fly-like creatures. However, the wings (in the males) are but comb-toothed spines held above the back. These were new to us, but the first two insects on Dr. Fitch’s list are Boreus nivoriundus and Boreus brumalis; and, indeed, this looks like a fine Boreus. According to Fitch’s descriptions and the pictures available at bugguide, this is Boreus brumalis, what he called the “mid-winter Boreus”, “brumale” apparently being Latin for the winter solstice. Boreus in general have also been called Snow Scorpionflies; in the Northeast only the two species described in the 1847 paper are currently known. They are usually put in the order Mecoptera, which includes the more conventional summer Scorpionflies (somewhat larger creatures that look rather like elephant-nosed, long-winged horseflies). Recent work suggests, however, that they are actually more closely allied to the fleas.

Nearby on the snow, coincidentally or not, were scraps of moss. Reading through on-line information, it seems clear that Boreus is “associated” with mosses, but exactly what that association is seems less clear. Suggestions are that adults and larvae feed on the moss itself, but it has also been proposed that either or both stages are predatory. So, if you have some moss-watching time on your hands, here’s a scientific frontier in your backyard.

Boreus are also called ‘snow fleas’ a term which, in this country, is usually reserved for the Springtails described below (even if Boreus are the organisms more closely related to true fleas). In any case, these creatures do hop as this video from the same outing shows. For more than you ever wanted to know about how these creatures do it (including stop action analysis), see this paper.

The next two wintery insects on Fitch’s list are both Stoneflies, critters that he called “The Small Snow-fly” and “The Large Snow-fly or Shad-fly”. As he well knew, these are not true flies, but rather the adults of common, stream-living larvae, well familiar as some of the ‘flies’ of the fly fisher. He named the first Perla nivicola, a name that has since been updated to Allocapnia nivicola; the second, he dubbed Nemoura nivalis, a name now changed to Taeniopteryx nivalis. The ‘nivicola’ and ‘nivalis’ derive from a Latin adjective meaning snowy.

Winter stoneflies are often common around streams during the winter months. They apparently have their life cycles timed so as to emerge in the depths of winter, a timing perhaps selected for because of relatively lower predation pressure. A different flavor of these creatures made a cameo in an earlier blog.

This stonefly more closely resembles Fitch’s little snow-fly than his larger find. Whether it actually is Allocapnia nivicola, I don’t know. But, as harbingers of clean water, any winter stonefly should be a welcome sight.

Next in Fitch’s paper comes Culex hyemalis (now why not spell that “Coolex”?) or what he calls “The Winter Musketoe”. This is a true mosquito and was the only one of Fitch’s ‘discoveries’ to later be revealed as having been previously named by science. So, I won’t worry that we found no representative to photograph.

The ‘winter musketoe’ is followed by “The Snow-born Midge” or Chironomus nivoriundus. (nivoriundus apparently means something like ‘originating in the snow’); the Latin name has now been updated to Diamesa nivoriunda (one just has to make sure those adjectives agree with generic gender, doesn’t one?)

Chironomids are characterized by their mosquito-like bodies and feathery antennae. We came across this candidate.

Bugguide says there are at least 30 species of winter-flying midges in our area and that inspection of the genitalia may be needed to distinguish them; so, we’ll leave this at ‘snow midge’ and not claim that it is exactly Fitch’s species.

The penultimate appearance in Fitch’s winter presentation is Trichocera brumalis, known today as ….Trichocera brumalis. These are winter Craneflies, Craneflies being those aptly named insects that look like oversized mosquitoes on stilts. Our outings have yet to reveal a photogenic volunteer of this group, so please head on over to bugguide if you want to see what Fitch was talking about.

Finally, comes what is perhaps the most familiar winter insects, what we call Snow Fleas, those tiny black specks one sees jumping about on the snow. As Fitch wrote, ” At any time in the winter, whenever a few days of mild weather occur, the surface of the snow, often, over whole acres of woodland, may be found sprinkled more or less thickly with these minute fleas, looking at first sight, as though gunpowder had been there scattered.” Indeed, these are often so numerous that one takes them to be part of the texture of the snow rather than a nearly infinite number of grains of life. Fitch assigned the Latin name Podura nivicola to this species, the ‘nivicola’ has persisted, but not only has the genus now morphed into Hypogastrura, but this group of organisms, the Springtails, are no longer considered insects.

Whatever else they are, Snow Fleas are tiny (about 1/16th of an inch). This, together with their ability to jump, makes them seem to disappear and reappear on the snow surface.

Snow Fleas jump by flicking a forked, tail-like structure called a furcula. This appears to lock into a belly structure that lets the Snow Flea build up tension before suddenly releasing its spring, in somewhat the same way that you may be accustomed to flicking meatballs with a fly swatter (although, of course, in this case, the meatball stays still and the fly swatter is flicked through the air). We patiently attempted to catch Snow Fleas in the act. The first few seconds of this video from our outing show a Snow Flea clambering over snow with its furcula visible below its tail end; that is followed by four clips of bouncing Snow Fleas. Notice that the Snow Flea seems to prepare itself, shortening its body and extending a set of hair-like fingers from its back end. Snow Fleas, like most Collembola, abound in the soil where, by feeding on dead organic matter, fungi, and microscopic animals, they help grease the wheels of decomposition and re-composition.

It’s easy to imagine Asa Fitch trudging across a snowy land, vials in hand, picking up many of the same creatures we can find today. And yet in doing so, some 160 years ago, he came home with pockets full of new species. Surely, such are still to be found in our land, although perhaps not as easily.

Preamble to the Ambles

Following up on a couple of earlier blog entries and spurred by the Roeliff Jansen Community Library‘s upcoming John Cowper Powys presentation (Sat., Sept. 22, 6pm) and display, I returned to that author’s diaries and autobiography to assemble a small collection of his observations from the present season and to dig up a few of his more sweeping commentaries.

For those of you too young or too wise to have read our previous blog on John Cowper Powys, Cowper Powys was an English author of literary criticism, philosophy, and novels such as The Glastonbury Romance and Wolf Solent. From 1930 to 1934, he lived at “Phudd Bottom”, a relatively small house along Harlemville Road on the east side of Phudd Hill.

In his diary and autobiography, Cowper Powys plumbs the depths of his own psyche and that of his companions, including his partner Phyllis Playter and his dog, “The Black”. Literary figures such as Edna St. Vincent Millay, Edgar Lee Masters and Theodore Deiser make occasional cameos.  Digging into those psychological and literary ruminations is best left for others, however Cowper Powys was also an astute and passionate observer of nature.While he certainly linked his walks through the natural world to his internal perambulations (don’t we all?), they can also be read as snapshots of the culture and ecology of our area in the early 1930s, a subject closer to this blog stream’s theme.

Before delving into seasonally-specific entries, it’s worth introducing a couple of more general comments that Powys made. He was, at least during his time at Phudd Bottom, an avid walker. Few of his daily entries do not include mention of at least a short ramble. The following excerpt from his autobiography describes what motivated and allowed him to do this,

There is no “trespassing” here as there is with us in England. These isolated up-state farmers are of a mixed Holland-Dutch, German-Dutch and English descent, but their methods, though in some respects they might be called “Kulaks”, are singularly Communistic. They use the same machinery, taking it round from farm to farm, as in the Russian ”Collectives”, and they exchange a still more precious commodity; they exchange labour. And so while they own their farms and have substantial savings in the banks they are the extreme opposite of English farmers. I can walk in this region if I can overcome the physical obstacles, in any direction, all round the compass! And my neighbors don’t get in the least annoyed when they see me forcing myself over or under their fences. For the first time in my life I could, starting from my door-step, walk on my two feet wherever I pleased. And this applies to these people’s houses, paddocks, gardens, bartons, enclosures, chicken-yards, farm-yards, door-yards. Just imagine what it would have been like at Burpham [English town where Powys lived] if I had suddenly inaugurated the custom of walking into people’s yards and across people’s gardens! In America there is not only  a most real “democracy”, there is the latent psychology of a good many aspects of Communism. [Autobiography, pp 567-568]

Many private land owners have been very kind to us and have, when asked, allowed us to wander on their lands. The motives that lead people to post their land are complex and private property is a touchy issue. I only pause to wonder what occurred over the past 80 years to now make us look to Europe as the home of such comparably free wandering and how current limitations affect the public’s chance to know and develop compassion for the land around them.

Another theme that appears time and again is Cowper Powys’ understanding that this landscape touched him deeply, because, like some familiar scent, it pulled up memories of his earlier life.

The country here has the very look of the old romances that I love best. Those who love tapestry say its hills offer the same enchanted vistas as did the mediaeval backgrounds to the castles of the Gothic North. It is more like England, this district of upper New York, than any landscape I have yet seen in the whole of America. It is like Shropshire. It even makes me think of my native Derbyshire… In every direction narrow lonely “dirt roads” wind through far away valleys and over remote hill-tops, leaving behind them, as their perspectives diminish, that peculiar thrill that seems to come down to us from the generations, but which is so peculiarly hard to define.  It is an impression that has to do with horsemen journeying, Inn-light beckoning, journey’s ends coming to lovers, to tramps, to hunters, to camp followers, to adventurers, to the life-weary Dead. It is an impression that has to do with all those mystic omens of the way that are driven off like hunted wild-geese by such things as “filling stations”, sign-boards, cement highways, ginger-pop stalls, and “residential sections”.

...Grassy slopes, park-like reaches, winding rivers, pastoral valleys, old walls, old water-mills, old farmsteads, old bridges, old burying grounds give to the contemplative imagination that poetic sense of human continuity, of the generations following each other in slow religious succession, which is what the mind pines for, if it is to feel the full sense of its mortal inheritance.[Autobiography, pp. 562-563]

As Cowper Powys wandered about this northwest corner of Hillsdale, he seems to have been tantalized both by familiarity and the old memories that re-appeared and by novelty and the new forms of nature and geology that came before him. Likewise, perhaps, his eyes, ‘exotic’ in era and origin, can bring new views to forms already familiar to us who live here.

Amblings

At the top of this hill, which must have been about the height of Montacute Hill [an English hill from Powys’ youth], was an avenue of large heaps of heavy stones. Which I hoped were the grave-mounds of old Indian Chiefs, Mohawk Chiefs, for the Mohawks were my favourite nation; and at certain seasons during these four years, at the two equinoxes and at other pivotal days, I used to climb to this wooded summit and walk up and down this “death avenue,” as I liked to call it, kneeling in front of each pile and invoking these dead Indians. [Autobiography, p 579]

The origin of the rock piles along the top of Phudd Hill continues to be a topic of discussion. The Mohican Indians of this region (the Mohawks were actually further west), clearly did create stone mounds. Some of these became boundary markers as landowners such as Robert Livingston accumulated deeds to former native lands. At the same time, Phudd Hill is laced by rock walls (see below), and piles such as this, located at the edge of formerly ploughed land, could well have been dumpings from rock carts filled as fields were cleared of plough-breaking stones. For more on Cowper Powys’ connections to Indian culture, see this work by Jacqueline Peltier.

One of the peculiarities of this region that so appealed to me are the number of old stone walls dividing the fields, walls built without mortar and bearing on the top of them sturdy beams of wood, laid cross- wise without the use of nails. Around these ancient walls and around these tumble-down wooden fences have grown up, by the work of Nature rather than of man, tall hedges of choke-berry [Choke Cherry], thorn, and other white-blossoming bushes; and the presence of both stone walls and hedges gives this landscape, combined with the bare grassy uplands between the wooded hills, a look sometimes, especially in the winter, that stirs up in me feelings that must rever to far-away impressions of my Salopian ancestors of the Welsh Marches. [Autobiography, p 566]

 In our earlier blog entry, I described a bit more about these ‘rail over rock’ fences. Today, most of the beams have rotted away leaving seemingly ineffectual strings of low rocks strung around the hills. However, this extract also alludes to another aspect of landscape change – many of the “bare grassy uplands” that Cowper Powys mentioned are now forested. Much of the eastern half of Phudd Hill, a land now largely wooded, was bare or, at most, shrubby during his time here. One can search in vain for certain of his views, because they are muffled by trees. The landscape might not now feel so familiar to a returning Powys.

My favourite before-breakfast walk in this up-state home of mine was along the river by the edge of a spinney about half a mile from my house. To reach this, I had to scramble along a little bank whose twisted tree roots, emerging from the mud, reminded me of that higher bank at Sherborne …. The sight of caddis-worms – those inch-long bundles of minute sticks animated by an invisible organism – always thrilled me with delight as I stared at this stream, and so did the reflections at its clear bottom of the long-legged water-flies. These reflections represented, like the mystical Beasts in the Apocalypse, six legs, or rather four legs and two feelers, and at the end of each leg and at the end of each feeler there moved, as the creature moved, a dark moon rimmed with a silver rim. [Autobiography, p 590]

Caddisflies and Water Striders (our current names for Powys’ “caddis-worms” and “water-flies”) still abound in the Agawamuck. The Caddisfly young are aquatic and construct houses from a variety of local materials, including pebbles and rocks. Water-striders are True Bugs (order Hemiptera) who skate about the water surface in hopes of finding some hapless living flotsam upon which to feed.

The diary entries below are almost in calendar sequence, although those from 1930 and 1931 are mixed and, once or twice, I abandoned strict chronology in order to group similar entries together.

Thursday,  3^rd September, 1931

… along the hedge and then over the swamp of Pan where bull rushes and Boneset & a beautiful Michaelmas daisy .. & Jewel weed & tall green rushgrass were all tangled – into the cut field on the other side & looking back I saw the sunset thro’ the hedge.

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Jewelweed after a heavy dew; 14 Sept. 2012, banks of the Agawamuck.

Monday 8^th September 1930

I walked up to the Red Barn on the Top of the hill – the Obstructing Barn that sent a lady mad and there, from there, I saw the Mountains, Mountains, the Mountains. This is a great event in my life to know that in half-an-hour I can go where I can see the Mountains and come back.

The exact location of the Red Barn of the Mad Lady still alludes me, but the Mountains must clearly be the Catskills, distantly visible from Phudd Hill and, less completely, from atop Schober’s Hill, what Powys called “Windmill Hill” because of a rusty weather vane, along 21C.

Tuesday. 8^th September, 1931

Heavy white dew of the kind that earlier might easily have been a white frost – by earlier I mean before dawn; for the sun is warm Filmy Feather clouds but otherwise a clear sky & delicious cool wind…. Found a Red Lobelia Found four of the Stocks [stalks] in that treat long row out…. Took Black to John Stone at noon in beautiful September sun through fields of Golden Rod and Queen Anne Lace and Yellow Toadflax [Butter & Eggs]. A lovely autumnal feeling in the cool air.

While still found ‘in the neighborhood’, Butter & Eggs (Powys’ Yellow Toadflax) seems not as abundant as in Powys’ days. It was one of our earlier ‘invasive plants’, expanding across fields as early as the 18th century.

Thurs 10^th September, 1931

Warm even hot. A very beautiful morning of Heavy Dew – drops of dew big as large diamonds on railings on grasses on all; especially on those lovely delicate faint straw coloured grasses like filigree of lace, made of fine hay. Soon these Heavy Autumn Dews will turn into waste frosts…. Then found two beautiful specimen of the flower like an orchid called Lady’s Tresses. Then walked right up hill to where I could see the Mountains and the hill near the River which I have named Corfe Castle. On returning I saw the big trout. The Alders field sadly dead… St. John’s Wort, Tansy, All dead and withered and black. Only the Golden Rod flourishing and four tall Scotch Thistles. I held the stalk of a Gold Rod that was Far taller than I & meanwhile listened to the rippling of the stream and saw the misty light on the Plane Tree [Sycamore].

Friday 11th September, 1931

There is a beautiful red Autumn branch on an elm-tree near the Wohn Orchard [the Wohn’s were neighbors] & yesterday I noted on the great Hawk’s stone two big blood-stains which must have been red Virginia Creeper. The Spinney too I noticed full of red Virginia Creep on the ground & also has many Berries brilliant & more jewel-like – like red coral beads – more than that; like frozen blood drops – of Lords and Ladies [Jack-in-the-Pulpit]. Only Golden Rod and Toad flax in the fields; & Skull Cap…. This warm weather has brought the Katy-Dids back.

The hidden jewels of Jack-in-the-Pulpit, or Lords-and-Ladies. 1 Sept. 2008, Taghkanic.

Wednesday. 9^th September, 1931

Took Black to river… There is still a faint trickle of water there, tho’ the water under the bridge is foul with green slime… There was a terrific noise all day. Mr. Krick helped by six men cutting his corn (maize) and putting it in his Silo.

Monday 14^th September

Still very hot….At noon I went for a stroll by the river which is getting terribly low & full of duck-weed and of frogspawn… How the tiny little fish and the quick water flies dance thro’ this water trickling thro’ green slime I know not!

I have taken the first of these two entries somewhat out of order, but this pair goes together, at least for our purposes. Algal growth (apparently what is referred to by “green slime” and “frogspawn”) still occur along the Agawamuck, but perhaps not as thickly as in Powys’ day. Their excessive growth usually reflects the presence of abundant nutrients in the water. While natural leaf fall and the like are always contributing some nutrients, the dairy farms for which the neighbor Mr. Krick was cutting corn surely contributed their lot, as did streamside outhouses. Septic systems, improved on-farm waste handling, and agricultural decline may have cleared the Agawamuck’s waters somewhat. However, algal growth also varies substantially from year to year, and hot, dry years like Powys seems to have experienced in 1931 can cause blooms.

Wednesday, 16th September, 1931

… a delicate misty dewy day with a dew-cloud over Phudd & dew-vapours regular classical Nephelae like floating essences of fragile entities over the Ridge & I thought – this is so beautiful this landscape but I must go to bed & enjoy it at one remove listening to the crows and the owls & Mrs Krick’s chickens.

Friday 18^th September, 1931

.. the Golden Rod is dying… beginning to die… yes, on  this the 18^th September the Golden Rod is beginning to wither. The last of all the year’s flowers to look fresh… I mean those in large quantities… is a certain small white Aster, white with the faintest lilac tinge but a sturdy little plant & the greenery of it so filmy & delicate. This Aster this little common Aster is now in its heyday while Golden Rod begins to fade.

Saturday, 20^th September, 1930

I walked along the river on this side following the line of willows and finally coming to a hedge of wild raspberry… I met a beautiful green frog… he was green and beautifully spotted; a tiny saurian and very wise.

Thursday, 24th September, 1931

…& there was an upright rainbow mostly red but also green & violet & the golden light struck the top of windmill hill…

Sunday, 27^th September, 1931

I took pail & net & rescued fish. .. They are all Trout – beautifully spotted with little red spots & one with a black back.

Thursday, 1^st October, 1931

Caught a very broad light coloured fish and three others all big ones from a rock pool. Their tails look so funny all poking out from under the same stone. Three under one stone, side by side like fish-horses in a manger!

Sunday, 4th October, 1931

I … saw a very strange unforgettable sight seen by few living men I wot! I saw four fish in procession cross a strip of dry land from under the rock into the pool.

Monday, 5th October, 1931

Caught quite a lot of fish – they have now come out from under both rocks & few are left in my three pools & my grand aquarium has a whole shoal of large fish – are they brown trout – with broad yellow backs, striped with black.

As Powys notes in his autobiography, he was often hounded by concern for fish in the drying pools of the Agawamuck. He spent hours ferrying the fish of shallow, drying pools to deeper “aquariums” as he called them. As he surmises, he probably was seeing Brown Trout, a European species that was (and is) being widely stocked in the area. Probably also present but more skittish were Brook Trout. These are a native species, although they have also been extensively stocked and so which populations, if any, are really native to a particular stream can be difficult to know. The presence of so many trout suggest that water quality wasn’t regularly as bad as his earlier 1931 descriptions might suggest.The light, broad fish may have been a Golden Shiner (to see one, visit our fish tank at the Farm Store). He was obviously and rightly stunned to see the ‘walking fish’; he repeats the description in his autobiography. Some fish are known to move short distances over ground. While it is difficult to imagine trout accomplishing this, Creek Chub, another fish in the watershed, might be more adept.

Tuesday 6^th October

Half Phudd is now yellow with autumn tints. The most beautiful tree round here is the Maple on the right hand of the road going towards Wohn Bridge – I am referring to the autumn tints!…The first one of all to get red is a very small Maple by the rail of the Wohn Orchard. Brilliant red now is the Sumach on Stein’s Hill & also near our own garden – what a garnet red and Ruby red and wine red all mixed together the Sumach is… Why then do I not justice to the Sumach… I’ll tell you why… because I have no old memory connected with Sumach – yet it has not yet won me over… but is beginning to do this now by its ruby redness in this weather but it may still be only beginning to win me over when I die.

Saturday, 17 October, 1931

The day is grey  & cloudy – vast heavy lowering clouds over everything darkest to the North where there is almost a snow-cloud look … Not quite a cold snow-sky but a late autumn sky suggesting walks over hill & dale in German forests and towards Castles perched on high rocks and down by Ruysdale-like windmills and brown swirling waterfalls. Yes, it is a Nordic day…

I have not yet found an entry mentioning the passing Geese; maybe I’ve missed it, but Canada Geese were a much rarer sight (and sound) in Powys’ day. Extensive game hunting had virtually driven the eastern populations to extinction by the 1930s. It was not until the 1960s that, aided by releases of captive birds and restrictions on hunting, Canada Goose populations began to rebound. If you’re curious who Ruysdale was, then see our earlier Powys blog

Saturday, 25th October, 1930

Snow!

Sunday, 26th October, 1930

Saw the dawn or rather the sun rise. First there was the long clear line of the hills and then above them a clear watery seas of golden light and across this darker but messily gold clouds were driven by a strong north wind – this blew the actual sun rays. When the sun itself finally appeared it took the form not of above the hills but of a distinct bite, like of enormous teeth, out of the hill. This apparently was caused by the clear air which made the sun as blazing then and unbearable to stare at, as later (which is unusual) and hence where you cannot bear to look at it, it makes a bite, or a gap cut out of the line of the horizon-hill-ridge.

Monday, 26 October, 1931

But cold thro’ the thorn trees blows the North wind O so cold & strong & leaves do race & flutter & swilr down. Mr. Scutt thinks there’s less red than usual in autumn.. all yellow & brown this year. Our maple is Orange. Our Hickory in field is Gamboge. Our Cherry tree, both our Cherry trees are Bare – A stray Margarete Daisy & a few Achillea are all the wild flowers left. I have not seen one single purple Loosestrife this year. The Toadflax was the last flower to make a gallant defiance but they are all now dead.

It is botanically interesting to find Powys mentioning Purple Loosestrife. Reportedly common along the East Coast shoreline by the early 1800s, this invasive European plant (Powys probably knew it from England) has since become common in wetlands throughout the US. Regional populations seemed to have been knocked back by beetles introduced as biocontrol, but this year (2012), it again seemed particularly abundant.

Botanist Rogers McVaugh, who roamed the County just a few years after Powys, described its distribution in the County at that time as, “Marshes along the Hudson River; common, often forming dense stands and becoming the dominant plant over large areas. Unknown away from the river except in isolated colonies. This species, now the most conspicuous one in the river marshes, is apparently spreading rapidly.”

Tuesday, 27 October, 1931

Saw what I think was a Star perhaps Jupiter very large thro’ the middle of the Lilac but it may have been a light in the Windmill Barn but I think it was a Star. I could feel the Full Moon up above house & the house was so light with moonlight all chilly and wan that I lit no light.