Why document logs in streams? Because the presence of wood in the water is a key indicator of stream health.

The sharpest contrast between rivers and lakes is in water movement. While rivers flow inexorably downhill, lake water movement is more subtle.

In May, when a cottonwood measuring nearly three and a half feet in diameter and more than 100 feet tall fell across a trail in the Saint Michael’s College Natural Area, I saw the event less as a tragedy, and more as a circle of life opportunity. 

If you get a chance this winter, take a peek through the icy window of a pond surface. You may see water boatmen – Hemiptera corixidae – clinging to the pond floor

A student plopped a leaf on my desk, pointed to several green lumps on its underside, and asked, “What are those green growths?” 

In September 2021, one boy’s blue ribbon-winning 4-H project at the Kansas State Fair made national news. The exhibit included a colorfully spotted, inchlong, moth-like insect that immediately attracted the attention of entomologists. 

Earlier this summer, I joined graduate school friend and beetle biologist, Kristian Omland, in search of the elusive cobblestone tiger beetle (Cicindela marginipennis).

The most common but least seen planktonic insect larvae in lakes and ponds are phantom midges, members of the genus Chaoborus that the “phantom” moniker from both their unique appearance and their unusual behaviors.

Before masks and social distancing, my collaborators and I packed vans with students from Vermont, Massachusetts, and as far afield as Puerto Rico to monitor macroinvertebrates in Vermont streams. 

This winter, Saint Michael’s College biology professor and writer Declan McCabe took to pond ice to peek below the surface. Because while the under-ice food web is reduced in wintertime compared to summer, it is certainly not dormant.

I was settling in to answer a few emails when I heard, “Dad, some huge bug just flew into the lampshade!” 

In hard-hit areas of Vermont, these pests have stripped leaves from trees, causing them to look more like their winter selves than lush summer shade trees. While some may say they hear the caterpillars eating, the sound is actually made by caterpillar frass – or poop – pinging the leaves below. 

When my sisters visit from Ireland, I try to play tour guide but I’m occasionally at a loss for what to do next.

On a clear mid-winter day several years ago, my student Sarah Wakefield and I pulled on snowshoes, donned backpacks, and headed up through Smuggler’s Notch. 

I consider the lack of biting insects and other invertebrates to be a wondrous gift of the winter season.