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Here at Something Wild, we love all things wild (even blackflies !) but sometimes it can be helpful to look beyond a single species and consider how many species interact within a given environment. In our periodic series, New Hampshire’s Wild Neighborhoods, we endeavor to do just that and this time we’re looking at peatlands.

Spring in New Hampshire is a double-edged sword. On one hand you have longer, warmer days — plants and trees are blooming! On the other hand, the pollen springtime trees produce can present an array of unpleasant seasonal symptoms. Yet pollen is so incredibly important to our survival – we think we should give it the credit it deserves. O ur friend Sam Evans Brown is the host of NHPR’s Outside/In; when pollen makes his eyes watery and the roof of his mouth itchy this time of year, Sam likes to remember that " the pollen that you’re breathing, and that your body is freaking out over... is you know… is half of the equation of tree sex. So you’re breathing in a little bit of tree sex which is you know... just a fun thing to think about." If you can recall your middle school science class you might remember that pollen is the male reproductive product of tree flowers — found on the anther and filament of male stamens — used to make new plant life. It needs to reach the sticky stigma, style

It’s an unmistakable sound. One that elicits memories, sights and scents of events long ago. It recalls the joy of youth, the possibility of a spring evening. But it can also incite insomnia and the blind rage that accompanies it.

For some, m aple sugaring is a perennial ritual, painstakingly completed as we usher out the bitter wisps of winter, and embrace balmier, brighter days of early spring. And whether you’re producing maple syrup with just a few buckets, or if you’ve expanded operations with a full-blown sugar shack … you know this much to be true: 1) S ugaring is an art 2) Sugaring is a science 3) And a great excuse to be outdoors, with family and friends. This week on Something Wild, we check in with novice maple-sugar farmer Phil Brown, Director of Land Management for New Hampshire Audubon, to discuss the unexpected joys of maple season. Most maple seasons last about 4 to 6 weeks, and b ecause sugaring is so dependent on the weather—we never know just how long optimal conditions will last. B y optimal conditions, we’re talking daytime temperatures that reach into the 40’s and overnight lows that land in the 20’s. This “goldilocks zone” is juuust right for maple sap runs, because temperature fluctuation

About this time one year ago life in New Hampshire and across the world changed drastically. In this week's Something Wild, we re-visit musings from Dave Anderson in how to find solace in nature-- even during the most stressful of times.

February in New Hampshire can be a bitter time, weather-wise. In some places, layers of ice and snow still weigh heavily on conifer limbs, and on the souls of even the heartiest of New Englanders. But at last, the days are noticeably longer. So take heart winter-weary friends. The first pulses of springtime arrive in the smallest of signs.

Here at Something Wild , we don’t have a problem with winter. Aside from the snow and the cold and the freezing rain…okay, maybe we have a couple issues. But we have sweaters and hot cocoa and Netflix. Trees, however, do not. As the snow piles up, you may see trees bent over with their crowns nearly touching the ground, leafless and haggard. They can’t escape or hide from the cold, so how do trees survive? Just like any living thing, trees have adapted over time to deal with the range of environmental conditions thrown their way. In this case, freezing rain, ice-loading, or heavy wet snow. Trees that aren’t adapted to survive periodic ice loading don’t live here. Some trees (like pine or spruce) simply bend or fold branches to shrug off snow. Other trees (like oaks) try to stand rigid and inflexible. Stout oaks and sugar maples are famous for big heavy branches that don’t break. On the other hand, branches of beech and red maple tend to break apart under heavy snow loads. Most of our

Each year, bird enthusiasts across North America eagerly await the Winter Finch Forecast. Published every fall since 1999, the Winter Finch Forecast predicts when and where, and even IF fan-favorite finches like Evening Grosbeaks and Common Redpolls will grace our backyard bird-feeders, or make an appearance on a brisk mid-winter hike. It’s a big deal for birders. So much so that enthusiastic birders have been known to base winter birding plans on this forecast, even driving hundreds of miles to spots deemed favorable for seeing White-winged Crossbills or Pine Grosbeaks. But who makes these predictions, and what are these finch forecasts based on? Enter Tyler Hoar, a freelance biologist and ecologist from Oshawa, Ontario. He’s recently taken the reins in predicting finch winter migration patterns from the legendary Ron Pittaway -- who started this citizen science project some 20 years ago. According to Tyler; "Ron set up this network, getting various birders, naturalists , foresters,

Sometimes called a Marsh Hawk, the northern harrier is currently one the rarest birds of prey nesting in the Granite State. Unlike many of our more common hawks, harriers shun the forest, opting instead to hunt in wide-open spaces like fields, brushy areas -- even in marshes. And get this --they build their nests on the ground . Peculiar preferences indeed, and ones that have made it a challenge for them to survive here. ___________________________ Flying under the radar is the modus operandi for harriers, both literally AND figuratively. They hunt for voles, snakes, and small birds by skimming the landscape, gliding low over the ground, zipping just above North Country hayfields during the summer, and slipping in and out of coastal salt marshes in the winter. Figuratively speaking, Northern harriers have largely stayed out of sight, and out of mind of wildlife managers...even though their populations across New England have been on the decline for decades. So much so, that harriers

This time of year, you're likely to see cars and pickup trucks heading home on the highways with fresh-cut Christmas trees tied to roofs or in the truck beds. Fraser firs, Korean firs, Balsam firs, and Spruce (ouch!)... So today on Something Wild we take a look at Christmas tree farms, and the important habitats they provide for New Hampshire wildlife. You might be heartened to know that tree farms are a unique land use, and serve as early successional habitat, one that is neither residential neighborhood, cropland, nor deep forest. It's a landscape that was far more common a century ago, before small family farms began to vanish. Early successional habitats are an incubator: warm, sunny, scrubby zones with a variety of foods...like grasses, weeds and sometimes fruit-bearing shrubs or vines…raspberries, blackberries and grapes. Anything sun-loving, including fast-growing tree seedling and saplings. Tree farms provide ample food and shelter to a wide variety of disturbance-adapted

As we hunker down for the winter weather, we’re frequently too preoccupied with what is in our front yards that we tend not to notice what isn’t there. And short of finding a postcard in your mailbox from a warm exotic location, signed by your friendly neighborhood phoebe, you probably haven’t thought much about the birds that flitted through your yard just months ago. We love to admire the birds when they’re here with us, but we’ve accepted that school-age aphorism that birds fly south for the winter. As if there was some avian Sandals resort, at which birds congregate, sipping margaritas and playing beach volleyball until it’s time to come home. But these birds are not on vacation. New Hampshire is too cold and offers too little food, so most have moved to more hospitable places in order to survive. However, migration is not one-size-fits-all. Different species practice different forms of migration. Ospreys are large raptors that feed almost exclusively on fish. Since the ice that

By the time the cold weather months hit us, three of New Hampshire’s eight species of bats have already migrated to warmer places in the South and Mid-Atlantic regions. The bat that DO overwinter in New Hampshire have relocated out of their preferred summer roosts in trees (and Dave's chimney), and into winter hibernacula like caves, mine shafts, and abandoned military bunkers where the microclimate is just right. These cozy shelters provide stable temperatures, higher humidity, and protection from predators. But they also provide the perfect climate for Psedogymnoascus destructans, the fungus that causes White-nose Syndrome in bats. According to Sandi Houghton, a wildlife biologist for New Hampshire Fish and Game / Non-game and Endangered Wildlife Division, as many as 99% of New Hampshire’s little brown bats were wiped out because of this fungus-- found in the very places bats take winter refuge. In fact most of what’s left of the little brown bat population in New Hampshire may be

Standing dead trees (often called snags) are common in our forests, and it’s hard to overstate just how vital a role they play in a healthy ecosystem. These gray ghosts provide food and shelter for a whole heap of forest critters; a total of 43 species of birds and mammals are specially adapted to nesting or denning inside tree cavities. But before a dead tree becomes a high-rise condo for a long list of species, it first undergoes a remarkable transformation. In fact, snags undergo a series of changes, from the time they begin to die until they finally collapse, and each stage of decay has particular value to a whole host of different animals with unique needs. First things first: decaying wood is perfect for fungi -- molds, mildews and mushrooms -- decomposers that soften wood enough for insects to start to gnaw their way in. Next, termites, beetles, and ants all begin to chew apart and break down the cellulose and lignin that gives wood its normally rigid structure. And once you

This episode of Something Wild was produced by Andrew Parrella: The number of acorns a tree produces in a given year has to do with masting. Not mast like on tall ships, but mast as in masticate, or to chew and it refers to the fruit, seeds or nuts that trees produce and are in turn fodder for animals. Especially in New Hampshire, oak mast follows a boom or bust cycle, which means the amount of acorns varies from year to year. Over time, evolution has favored the oak trees that demonstrate this boom or bust cycle. This keeps seed consumers off balance and that's actually a good thing. If there were the same amount of acorns every year, there would be just enough mice and turkey and deer and others to consume every single acorn. However, by producing very few acorns a couple of years running, they starve the animals and the populations of seed predators crash. Then, the oak has a boom year and there aren't enough animals to eat them all, which allows some of those acorn to become trees.

It's late August, and the leaves are already starting to change. And that flush of red you’re seeing likely comes from the red maple , also known as “swamp” or “soft maple”. It's an adaptable tree renowned for signaling an impending autumn, and has even earned the dubious nickname: “Judas Tree” – for betraying these late summer days. Red maples are common in New Hampshire’s young forests, especially in areas prone to natural disturbances such as flooding in wetlands, along rivers -- and by human disturbances, too. A nd while forest ecologists believe these trees are increasing as a percentage of our forests, red maples are still considered a minority species, adding diversity to overall forest composition.

This Something Wild segment was produced by the amazing Andrew Parrella. You may be familiar with hoarders (not the TV show, but same idea). In nature, a hoarder will hide food in one place. Everything it gathers will be stored in a single tree or den. But for some animals one food cache isn't enough. We call them scatter hoarders. A "scatter hoarder" hides food in a bunch of different places within its territory. The gray squirrel is a classic example, gathering acorns and burying them in trees or in the ground. Not all squirrels are hoarders. Red squirrels are "larder hoarders." If you've ever been walking through the woods and a red squirrel starts screaming at you, it's defending its one and only stash. The same goes for chipmunks and white-footed mice. The gray squirrel isn't alone in the practice of scatter hoarding. Blue jays and gray jays will spend the summer accosting hikers, filling itself with as much granola or fruit as it can. They bring their bounty back into the forest

We know…we’ve been remiss, and it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room. Something Wild, as you know, is a chance to take a closer look at the wildlife, ecosystems and marvelous phenomena you can find in and around New Hampshire. But over the years there is one species in New Hampshire that we haven’t spent much time examining. A species, I think that has been conspicuous in its absence. Humans. So we’re grabbing the bull by the horns and digging in to a complex species that is an important part of the ecosystem. And we thought we’d start with a particular trait that’s been with us almost since the beginning: olfaction.

Producer's note: Because of the global pandemic, Dave Anderson was not able to record this piece in NHPR's studio. Instead, he recorded through the microphone in his phone, while sitting in his Hyundai during a rain shower. Because that's how he rolls. ______________________________________________________________ My summer lament when weeks accelerate is there are really only two seasons : "summer waxing" and "summer waning." The former happily runs from January to June. The latter opens with the last dying echo of Fourth of July fireworks and extends toward a darkening tunnel of autumn. Most people don’t notice until “Back to School” sales pop up everywhere. I notice the subtle changing angle of summer sunlight before mid-July with an inherited Yankee gothic dose of “ It could be worse” and then “probably will be soon. ” By late July --with pre-dawn light glowing faintly in the east-- the songbird chorus softens. The riotous May-to-June symphony of 20 bird species is dominated now by

The past couple of weeks have been weird. Daily life changed gradually, then all at once. We now find ourselves at home practicing our best “social distancing” protocols. Incredible technology allows us to stay connected, and that’s fantastic. But it’s ok to put the phone down. It’s ok to turn down the news from time to time, and take a long walk outside in nature. This week, I took my own advice. Amidst the simple beauty of nature, I draw one deep breath… and then another. In the forest, I glimpse a furtive movement - beyond the shoulder of the rural, dirt road. One handsome squirrel sits perched on a fallen log, slowly twirling a hemlock cone in its forepaws. In the warm morning sunlight, he yawns…unimpressed with my presence. In his narrow economy, it’s spring and the kitchen larder of conifer cone seeds is running low. Above me, a March wind coaxes a flock of bluebirds to an open, sodden pasture. Springtime arrives this year, just as the bluebirds do– hopeful, tentative, uncertain.

Expert wildlife tracker Susan Morse is A LOT of things: A life-long naturalist…a Shakespearian scholar…an award winning photographer. What she is not…is easy to get a hold of. So with some persistence and a little luck, Something Wild's Dave Anderson and Chris Martin tracked Sue down a few weeks back, before her busy season kicked into high gear. Which is right about now (late winter) as Sue leads dozens of programs across New England and beyond—teaching everyday people about wildlife tracking and habitat monitoring techniques. Aptly named Keeping Track , Sue's program focuses on key species like bobcat, black bear, otter, fisher, and moose-- mammals thought to be really important within New England's various habitats, and the corridors that connect them. Such wildlife corridors can be found along ridgelines, and around the edge of wetlands--and this knowledge is key to tracking wildlife successfully. When Sue Morse is teaching a tracking class, they're "not just blindly walking down