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Winter Woods

Winter has approached; fall has faded. Many birds are gone, some mammals have begun to hibernate, winter seeds are dotting otherwise lifeless looking plants, and the woods appear at first glance dull and slightly eerie. This all seems reasonable, considering that sunlight has dwindled, temperatures have dropped, and living seems difficult.

Go outside, look, listen, and smell the air. What we see are glimpses into the lives of minks, otters, weasels, foxes, bobcats, coyotes, moles, voles, and others, as we follow their tracks in the snow. What we hear are songs of procreation as owls, wild canines, and other animals not only survive the winter, but court, mate, and incredibly, even give birth. What we smell are leaves decomposing, dampness settling in, first hints of snow, and a freshness that cleanses.

Winter is a time of discovery. Of all the days, hours, and minutes I have logged outside, winter has the largest register. Something magic happens as the days shorten; for three months it is possible to spend as much time outside at night as it is during the day, without losing any sleep. Throughout most of the year we make our observations during the day. While many living things are active during the day, there is a whole world active only at night. For centuries there has been a preconceived evil feeling towards nature in the dark, but, truth be told, only beauty will be encountered on a night hike.

Winter is a great time to begin night-time forays. Leaves have fallen, so the woods are open, the moon and stars appear brighter in the cold air, and the snow acts as a blanket of light. Winter sounds are less confusing, for there are no insects, and the diversity of what is moving around has decreased.

At no other point in the year is the virtue of a deciduous tree so evident. Silhouettes identify them. Sycamores, with their feet wet, take a bent approach as they reach for sunshine over the water. Tulip poplars stand erect like soldiers, with upturned seeds covering their crown. A few scarlet oaks stubbornly hold on to their leaves, clearly showing how much canopy they claim. The individuality of each tree stands out as they etch the winter sky. Look close and you will see buds, the tree's future lifeline, and a promise that winter will give way to spring.

On a moonlit night one can listen to the strange wail of a coyote or fox as they yip and howl with abandon in a much wilder way than at other times of year. Both the coyotes and the fox yowl for mates during the frigid nights of January and February.

Owls are especially vocal this time of year as they are busy reinforcing their pair bonds, courting, mating, and caring for their young. Great homed owl hoots are presently echoing through the hollows and valleys, and by the end of January the pairs will usurp an old hawk or crow nest and lay their clutch of eggs. Barred owls will lay their eggs by the end of February, and screech owls, by the end of March.

Some mammals, unlike the winter-mating canines, mated in the summer and fall, when their physical condition was better suited to survive the trials of territorial battles. Included in this group are mustelids (weasel family), bats, and black bears. Some northern mammals can maintain new embryos in a state of suspension for months, only implanting the minute cluster of cells on the uterine wall when the time is right -- usually sometime in the winter. Such a reproductive technique allows for courting and mating during a time of year when movements are not hampered by cold and snow. With this strategy, females are also bearing young very early compared to spring breeders, and with this head start the parents and offspring will take advantage of a world filled with young and unaware prey species.

Black bears bring this to the extreme. Black bears mate in midsummer, not long after a female has encouraged her previous one-and-a-half-year-old litter of cubs to go out on their own. The newly formed embryos stop developing and become quiescent. In early winter, the embryos attach themselves to the uterine wall and in about six to eight weeks the females will give birth during their winter dormancy. While bears are not true hibernators, like bats and woodchucks, their metabolic rate does dramatically slow. Blind and hairless, newborn cubs move instinctively to their mother's nipples by sensing the warmest part of her body. Through the remainder of the winter, the cubs will feed on her milk and enter the season of growth with a tremendous advantage.

For most of the region's winter residents, the season's greatest danger is starvation -- not the cold. Our winter animals are well adapted with fur and feathers to survive low temperatures, but all need plenty of fuel to provide that internal fire that warms their insulation. Even with the possibility of food shortage and starvation, many animals not only survive, but thrive during this arduous season. Once again winter solstice will pass, and the long climb back to summer will begin.

As flu season approaches, ask this question: Where are viruses and bacteria more likely to survive-inside the climate-controlled building, or outside in below-freezing temperatures? Spend this season outside and enjoy what could be your healthiest winter.