The Puffins are leaving.

Reading the (nature) signs is leading to more questions and other news

A sketch from my nature journal - Atlantic Puffin

Yet another sign that summer in my part of the world is winding down. It’s a slow process that begins late July, when the cicadas start singing their songs of love and lasts until early October when the fall foliage begins its lead up to a spectacular show of color. In between there are warm, sunny days to hoodwink you into thinking hopefully that this year we’ll experience a “lingering summer” only to have our hopes dashed when the inevitable Nor’easter roars in. Now the Atlantic Puffins are leaving their “summer homes” aka summer breeding grounds for open water where they will roost until next summer. 

Atlantic Puffin sketches from my nature journal. I’ve learned a lot about puffins this year. For instance, I did not know their signature colorful beaks diminish and dull when they are not breeding. They are social birds and nest in colonies. They are monogamous and equally share duties to hatch and raise their chick. They can be fierce fighters if they perceive a threat. And they are smaller birds than I thought – their size is between a robin and a crow.

The seasonal cycle has a particular rhythm depending on where I’ve lived. Out West, where I was raised, the seasons were bifurcated into dry and wet. The dry season was longer, punctuated by fire season that started in late August and could last through Christmas if it was a particularly arid year.

Later I lived in the Mid-Atlantic region where I experienced Autumn in all its glory. (I came for a week during mid-October and was seduced by the fall foliage and crisp autumn air into staying.) I experienced ice winters and oppressively humid summers for the first time in my life. I learned that none of my old techniques to stay cool in dry heat worked in such humidity, and I had no tricks for staying upright on a patch of ice! I had to adapt.

I learned to really lean into my senses, however, when I settled in Northern New England, where the seasonal change is more stark. On an island with several micro-climates and where the weather changes in an instant, I learned to be nimble.

However, more than the leaves are changing on my island. In the almost 20 years I’ve lived here the winters seem warmer, usually dry summers increasingly humid, and the springs drier. The Gulf of Maine has warmed, which is having a lasting effect on the aquaculture and affecting an already fragile fishing industry. According to the Maine.gov,

Recent “ocean heat waves” have occurred in the Gulf of Maine, which is warming faster than 99% of the world’s oceans and is beginning to lose its subarctic characteristics. Ocean warming, acidification, and sea level rise are already affecting ecosystems and coastal areas, and will continue to accelerate as the climate warms. Commercial and noncommercial species like Maine lobster are shifting northward to follow their preferred environmental conditions, while species from the south and non-native, harmful species such as green crabs and invasive seaweed increase. Future emissions will determine how warm the Gulf of Maine becomes by 2100.

Maine’s culturally and economically vital lobster industry may face the same fate as those in southern New England if ocean temperatures rise substantially: less lobster and more disease. Lobster forecast models and landings trends suggest the Gulf of Maine’s wave of productivity may have peaked (eastern Maine is a possible exception) and is heading toward Canada.

Maine has a long fishing history. In the early 1600s, English fishermen explored the Gulf of Maine, and by the American Revolution fisheries were a major driver of economic growth in the Northeast. Lobster fishing developed in the 1820s. Increased demand for lobster in the 1870s brought the quaint lobster pounds that dot the Maine coastline that many tourists today make special trips to visit.

Today Maine depends on ecotourism as much as marine resources and maritime industries, so changes cascade into all corners of our lives. Nearly 30,000 Mainers are employed in the state’s $637 million commercial fishing industry. Regional climate fluctuations reduced county level fishing employment in New England by an average of 16% between 1996 and 2017. Tourism spending in the coastal region could drop by $765 million annually with expected future sea level rise. 

But I digress. This piece isn’t about Maine and its industry, but about observed seasonal change.

Or is it? Can you separate the global phenomenon known as climate change from regional, seasonal change? And how can we discuss either, or both, without discussing the impact it has on the lives of the creatures who inhabit the land?

Change is inevitable and mostly an improvement. Through the cyclical seasons of the year, nature teaches us the benefits of agility and adapting to the flow, but something else is afoot that isn’t natural change and moving faster than we can adapt.

INIWIRMO: Observations from around my home

I Notice…

The absence of coyote packs crossing my yard during the seasonal transitions. During my first week in my current home (12 years ago!), I woke in the middle of the night to coyote chatter as the pack moved through my yard. Through the years, they would show up every autumn and spring, and I came to rely on them as a sound of the transition. I haven’t heard them in three years.

Winters have seemed drier and we haven’t had the abundant snow pack of 5+ years ago, which has led to the the network of streams surrounding my home drying up. There seem to be less Spring Peepers (Pseudacris crucifer) singing their song, which was always an exciting harbinger of summer! (They also keep algae in the streams in check and the mosquito population under control.)

More flooding alerts from the National Weather Service for my area. I’m lucky that for now I’m on higher ground, but a drive around the island in a storm’s aftermath is an obstacle course of seawall erosion and downed trees.

I Wonder…

• are the coyotes not in my woods because there is less water, less prey, etc?

• warming planet, less arctic air flowing down, and less snow production?

• what cascading effect is caused by a loss in peeper population since they are both consumers (algae, small insects, etc) and food source (for birds, snakes, etc) in the ecosystem surrounding my home?

• what am I doing to exacerbate/what can I do to improve what’s happening in my yard (and my world)?

It Reminds Me Of…

• Honestly, it just fills my head with questions right now.

Why is normal seasonal change important?

Here’s how the National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) explains it:

Earth has seasons because its axis is tilted. Earth’s axis is always pointed in the same direction, so different parts of Earth get the sun’s direct rays throughout the year.

The axial tilt and subsequent seasonal shifts play a critical role in maintaining a relatively stable climate and supporting a diverse range of life forms. Diversity is what makes our environment strong so we all thrive. It’s normal. It’s natural. It’s balanced.

But what happens when that balance is disrupted by other factors warming/cooling areas of the planet outside of the seasonal norm?

Back to the Atlantic Puffin

The Atlantic Puffin numbers, while still numbering in the millions, are declining mainly because of changes to their food supply from warming of ocean waters. Rehabilitation in Maine has brought back the Puffin here, but Finland has seen their Puffin population all but disappear.

Should we be worried if the Puffins decline? 

We should worry when any population is in decline because it affects the whole system. In the case of the Puffin (and other seabirds), it disrupts the marine ecosystem, which incidentally brings us back to Maine and its fishing industry. It also can serve as an indicator that we have a broader environmental issue to contend with that should not be ignored.

If you’re still reading…

You’re probably thinking, can you be any more of a downer, Susannah? And it’s true that the newsletter I intended to write for this month was about the romance of Autumn because it’s colorful, magical, and September makes me think of new beginnings and nature journaling discoveries.

What you got instead was what is at the top of my mind right now in this season of change. I worry that our actions are accelerating climate change, abnormal seasonal shifts, and we will not be able to keep up. I’m concerned that we’ll use short-term, stopgap measures to mitigate the effects of global climate change for our own comfort (and profit) instead of the longevity of the planet. And I wonder if nature will be able to rebalance and repair the damage if we don’t step up and help take care of the planet.

Prompt

This month’s prompt is more about establishing a habit and purpose for our journals. Nature journaling is perfect for recording changes in our environment as well as our experiences in nature. Here’s what I suggest:¹

1. Find your sit spot, or a spot that you can visit regularly at least once every month. More frequently is better, but do what you can.

2. Using I Notice, I Wonder, It Reminds Me Of… record your observations. Use pictures, write narratives, draw visual notes, record data like numbers, weather conditions, date/time, make maps and charts, etc.

3. Notice any patterns in your journals and write about that.

4. Do research, read books and magazine articles, seek out information from those who study this, talk to people, share (here in the comments, on social media, or in your community).

Commit to doing this for several months, the longer you can give it the more you can record what nature is trying to tell us and maybe throughout the process together we’ll come up with ideas and techniques to help.

xoSusannah

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1. Here’s a list of past newsletters that go deeper into the steps:

Weekly Prompt No. 6: Find Your Sit Spot

Weekly Prompt No. 16: Become a camera lens and zoom in, zoom out