The Drought of 2012 continues. For a time, I thought the meager rains of early July had broken its back. But now, it seems more fierce than before. The dirt appears to have turned to dust with the great trees sucking out what little moisture is left. We have resorted to putting out pales of water in the deep wood to keep the deer and small critters out there. Still, we have become a refugee center for a hoard of passerines with nowhere to turn for seed and water.
I am amazed at how they circle around the yard in holding patterns, waiting to land as soon as a slot becomes available on the feeder or in a bath. The beautiful birds are pitiful with their gaping mouths and scuffed down. Many have already died, others are too weak to make it 'til fall. If I were not afraid of running the well dry, I would leave a tap open to fill our small pond, which is a mere mud patch by now. Instead, we go out several times a day and rinse out the bird baths and buckets we have place around the yard. We even put out a small kiddie pool and small koi pond (sans koi) to provide a much opportunity as we can for the birds to land and rest for a bit.
Today we saw a pair of indigo buntings taking sunflower seed. Shy, these birds rarely ever come close to the house. Even the great pileated woodpecker have been swooping in, though I imagine that is more out of curiosity than need (they eat larvae which they dig out of dead trees).
This old forest has seen this all before. This region often sees periods of prolonged drought. The Massive Oaks shed leaves as hot, dry winds force them to transpire more than they are able in the absence of moisture. It is strange to see brown, crackly leaves blowing about this time of year, emitting an air of autumn while oven like oppression pushes from above. All of these dead leaves give me concern as we head in towards another two months of summer. They are tender in an already dry forest, primed for fire (the one great disadvantage of living in the deep woods).
I too have seen this pattern before. To me, it seems somehow tied to the Pacific weather patterns of El Nino and El Nina, though I haven't gotten it all worked out. They all seem to follow a multi-year cycle. El Nina, if I recall, sets up a pattern of behaviour that has the characteristic of cutting off the tops of tropical storms in the Gulf. This affects us in that the one source of relief that we can hope for in an otherwise dry summer is the brief but tremendous trough of moisture that can make it well into the interior of the continent, often dumping inches of rainfall.
Climate change: As I said before, this highland forest has seen this pattern before. In fact, one of the unique characteristics of our patch of woods is its ability to thrive in the face of such drought conditions. It is our soil structure that makes that possible. Water retaining clay marl provides just enough moisture to provide for our verdant forest. The problem, however, is that if the the heat and dry winds keep coming earlier and last longer, even the great trees will weaken and die. As this happens, it will open up great holes along the forest canopy allowing light to ignite growth in sub-ordinate species kept at bay by energy robbing shade of the oak and hickory giants. With the early warming, soft wood species will gain the upper hand over the more conservative hardwood, and they will shoot up above the oak saplings, subjugating them to the shade they once controlled.
This will be a very different forest than the one we presently see. Far more susceptible to fire, disease, and insect predation.
But then this forest has already been greatly altered by human activity. The forest our fathers found here just a few decades ago was one dominated by trees of tremendous girth and age. These dominate giants supplied their genetic strength for centuries at a time, ensuring stability for an ecosystem that was certainly one of the wonders of the world.
Sadly, this dominance of mega-flora didn't have a chance against the ax --or the disease brought to the new world along with progress. The resulting forest we see today is maturing, but still a juvenile in comparison. It is also genetically inferior in diversity which will hinder the ecosystem's ability to respond to the rapid changes of climate and human activity of today.
As I wander about the deep wood, I sometimes fantasize about coming across a patch of 'old growth' with an intact system of chestnut and elm... perhaps a really old black-cherry or black walnut... or even a cedar whose girth is greater than the reach of several men. A few photos of such a forest exists, taken by loggers who loaded with pride, the primeval corpses of fallen giants taken for the sake of a growing nation. "The Great Cut" is what they call it (yeah can you believe it, it has its own name!). In just a decade or two starting around the turn of the century industry moved in with an army of loggers and railway men and harvested this great Forest.
Enough of that dribble.... obviously the result of sleep deprivation (school started for us this week... and I have not yet adjusted to the early morning routine)!
Despite the recent heat, I took a hike into a remote area of the Ouachitas this week. Remote, but -interestingly, not far away. I spotted a small lake on satellite images of this sector, a lake that does not appear on many maps. I decided to take a look and found a beautifully lake, hidden by inaccessibility.
There are several of these small, man made lakes along the water shed of the Fourche La Fave. They were built as part of a broader flood control system build back in the 1970's. This one appears to be part of some sort of mine or quarry reclamation (just in the way the soil has been worked in a broad area above the lake, causing it to look like a massive spillway).
It was difficult to navigate the roads of the area. One road was just too steep for me (and when I say steep, I mean STEEP). I also crossed the river to explore an area called Brushy Creek Hollow. This area runs along the South Fourche La Fave River as it works its way north the the larger Fourche La Fave.
This area is located in the eastern part of the Ouachita National Forest, in a rural and lightly populated part of the state. The area was hit by several localized summer storms earlier in the month so the effects of the drought didn't seem quite as sever (though the rivers are pretty low).
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| Dry creek bed along Brushy Creek Hollow |
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| Isolation along South Fourche La Fave River |
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| Button Willow (Cephalanthus occidentalis) |
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| I have only seen this plant once before many years ago. My grandmother called it Pigweed, though I have never heard anyone else call it that. (I believe the L. is, Hydrolea ovata). This plant was found beside a lake just at the waters edge (possible growing in the water itself when the lake is at normal depth). Vibrant and deeply colored. |
