A Vinyl County Almanac

In the early-to-mid twentieth century, several books were published documenting a set of monstrous creatures — known collectively as the “fearsome critters” — which were allegedly encountered with some regularity by the lumberjacks, hunters, trappers, surveyors, and other professionals of the North Woods. Their role in the culture of the scattered logging camps — or at least the understanding adopted by the folklorists who wrote these books — is well summarized in the slanderous title of Vance Randolph’s 1951 text We Always Lie to Strangers. According to Henry H. Tyron’s Fearsome Critters (1939), a newcomer could expect to be the object of a well-rehearsed conspiracy, starting with a “colorful bit of description” concerning some fantastical animal and a corroborating account of personal experience provided by some other resident of the camp. The solemnity, the points of emphasis, the cadence and structure of the story, along with the occasional question thrown to another tired logger

Grey squirrel ( Sciurus carolinensis ) (1) It’s a beautiful, crisp October day and I am sitting in the porch with my dog, watching the world go by. Right now, the main source of interest for the both of us is a grey squirrel, scurrying across our neighbor’s driveway and into their yard, where he sniffs around, parting the grass and occasionally picking up a small seed or other piece of food to process and stuff into his cheek pouches. Somewhere on the street behind us, a raven prruk s and a woodpecker babbles, though my mind is not quick enough to focus and discern what kind.  Suddenly, there is movement in a bush at the edge of our neighbor’s yard, and my dog and I both turn our heads just in time to see the legs and tail of a black cat glide into the cover of its lower branches. We both shift slightly, tracking the speed of the cat and settling our gazes on the next gap in the bush. A moment later, there is movement and the dappled shadows in the gap darken and solidify. Then, stilln

Temperate forest ecosystems are defined by their thick layers of leaf litter (1). After four years living with the muted Autumn colors of the Chesapeake watershed, I’ve been very happy these last few years to be back up north, enjoying the dazzling splendor of Fall in New England. From the excitable red maples to the patient hemlocks, the bone-shaking breezes, the footfalls of plummeting acorns, and the scolding cries of sun-soaked blue jays — Fall is my favorite season for a walk in the woods and the one which makes me feel most at home outside or in. In addition to its personal and cultural significance for New Englanders like me, the Fall season and its namesake, slow-motion evacuation of leaves from canopy to forest floor is of crucial ecological importance. At its most abstract, the “system” part of an ecosystem consists of a complex web of matter and energy moving back and forth between living creatures and the physical environment. When the deciduous trees in a forest dump their