SHARON – What do you call a pond with no fish that disappears for half the year? Scientists call it a vernal pool, and it is no riddle, but a vital component of the Northwest Corner’s woodland ecosystems.
Much like a riddle, however, these murky, transient ponds harbor secrets below the surface, and with a little prodding, can reveal surprising truths. On Saturday, April 11, the Sharon Land Trust hosted an evening hike in the aim of doing just that and demystifying these misunderstood resources.
As the sun was setting high on the ridge of Red Mountain, local science teacher Joseph Markow – who guided the excursion alongside landscape professional and sustainability expert Robin Zitter and Sharon Land Trust staff – pointed to a depression full of inky black water.
Without vernal pools, he said, “wood frogs would disappear very quickly.” The wood frog, a small, primarily land-dwelling amphibian, is an example of an “obligate” species, Markow explained – an animal that has adapted to rely on ephemeral wetlands to breed since they are devoid of fish, which eat the eggs and young of amphibians.
As Markow spoke, he gestured towards a lumpy, jelly-like mass half submerged in the murk that resembled a clump of soaked chia seeds: a cluster of wood frog eggs. An undiscerning developer may not notice the signs of life in what otherwise looks like a puddle in the woods, he said. And if the survey is done when the summer heat has dried up the pond, the habitat may be missed entirely.
Zitter sits on Sharon’s Inland Wetlands and Watercourses Commission, which co-hosted Saturday evening’s hike, and said that this is a reason the town needs to codify protections for these delicate resources that so many species, especially amphibians, rely on. She said the IWWC is taking steps to insert those protections into the town’s Plan of Conservation and Development, a ten-year guidance document that is due for an update this year.
Alec Linden
She pointed out many species that rely on vernal pools actually spend most of their lives in the terrestrial territory surrounding it – known by ecologists as “upland” habitat. It’s not only the ponds themselves that need protection, she explained, but the broader landscape that supports these types of wetlands.
Luckily, the vernal ponds on Red Mountain are in no immediate danger, at least from development. Its ridgeline and expansive, wooded slopes are part of a network of protected forest and agricultural lands. The Sharon Land Trust’s 278-acre Hamlin Preserve, within which Saturday’s hike was held, connects to the Mary Moore Preserve, another Land Trust property, via a trail that traverses easement-conserved land on the Wike Farm.
The hilltop forest was relatively quiet Saturday evening, which Markow attributed to a brisk wind and recent cold. Like humans, frogs prefer to wait for more comfortable conditions before breaking out in springtime song.
On a warmer evening, Markow said the area around the pond would likely be abuzz with a shrill chorus from the spring peepers – tiny tree frogs whose emergence is a classic symbol of the end of a New England winter.
Markow said that close, extensive exposure to the pitchy trill of spring peepers can actually damage hearing. “They’re louder than a rock concert at times,” he said, reaching 90 decibels at close range.
Markow was ready for a subdued night. Before taking the group into the woods, he gave a presentation with a cast of critters he’d plucked from a vernal pool near his house earlier in the day. A microscope setup provided viewers with an up-close view of the tiny and aptly named fingernail clam, which spends its entire lifespan in vernal pools, burying itself in moist mud to survive when the water dries up.
He also demonstrated another uniquely adapted species. “You’ll see a stick just get up and start walking around,” he said while passing around a small sample vial with a wriggling brown mass inside, “and that’s a caddisfly.” The resourceful larvae of these insects use found materials in the vernal pools to create a protective armor around themselves.
The crowd favorite was a small red-backed salamander that he showed off straight from the palm of his hand. “It’s cool enough today that they are pretty calm,” he said, just before the amphibian started to wriggle with purpose. “It’s waking up in your hand!” came a shout from the crowd.
This fish took a Wooly Bugger in basic black, with rubber legs. Always get the rubber legs.
Then I hit on a succession of inflatable pontoon and belly boats, powered by oars and/or swim fins, and there I have remained.
Did I forget to mention that no motors are allowed on this lake? Well, no motors are allowed, and it’s no good arguing that a small electric trolling motor couldn’t possibly hurt anything. Ask me how I know this.
It’s a quiet, rejuvenating few weeks. The phone gets enough signal on one end of the deck to receive messages and maybe make a call if the wind is right. If something comes up, it’s only 15 minutes to so-called civilization.
When not fishing, I read, visit assorted cousins, listen to baseball on the AM radio and/or stare blankly into the middle distance.
Bassing with a fly rod in still water is a different game than chasing trout in streams.
A medium-fast-action rod, 8 to 10 feet, in line weight 7 or 8 is the starting point. The flies are big, and the wind is constant, so the angler needs some power, tempered with a bit of finesse.
I usually bring two rods. One is rigged with a floating line with a heavy front taper for turning over surface flies such as poppers.
The other has either a sink-tip or intermediate line. The lake is not all that deep, and the Woolly Buggers, Clousers and other streamers are heavy. The idea is to stay out of the vegetation while getting close to where the lunkers are hunkered down.
I use short nylon leaders, 7.5 feet with 1X tippet out of the package, and modify them constantly with additional sections of fluorocarbon tippet, snaps and droppers.
Surface action is usually minimal during the day unless it’s overcast. The lake runs east-west, so the angler can track the midmorning and late-afternoon shadows and work those areas.
Or the angler can wait until about 6:30 p.m., when things start to pick up.
Or get out there at the crack of dawn, which is best if surface action is the goal.
For subsurface fishing, some experimentation is required to find the right combination of flies, leader and sink rate. The angler also has to decide whether to troll.
There are a few places where a dry-dropper rig is appropriate, the dry being an extremely buoyant popper with a piece of stout fluorocarbon tippet tied to the bend of the hook and something heavy and wiggly at the end, like a stonefly nymph with rubber legs. (Always get the rubber legs.)
If this sounds like a bobber, it’s because it is. Don’t tell anyone. The purists don’t like it.
A net with a long handle is necessary. There is no leverage when sitting in what amounts to a floating chair.
I do not bring my phone for fish pictures. I will drop it into the depths. Ask me how I know this.
Instead I bring a small point-and-shoot camera. These get lost too, but perversely I have better luck keeping the cheap gear safe than the expensive items.
Sunscreen is applied liberally and frequently. After 50-odd years of being outside, I now have to visit the dermatologist every so often to have my face edited, and I don’t enjoy it.
A baseball cap does nothing for the ears and neck. I have a hat with a wide brim and a vented top, so it doesn’t get too hot. It looks stupid, but this is an acceptable risk.
Finally, a word about the quarry. Largemouth bass are not picky eaters. When engaged they usually dive and tug. Once in a while they leap. They are easily discouraged, however, and after a minute or two come meekly to the net.
Smallmouth, not so much. These aren’t especially big, but every smallie I’ve ever met thought it was much bigger than it actually was. Expect acrobatics.
Perch usually grab my fly when I don’t want them to.
Perch are in the August mix, usually when I don’t want them to be.Patrick L. Sullivan
Panfish are everywhere. They are extremely cooperative. Chasing sunnies is a good way to get a newcomer started.
And then there are the pickerel. These are nasty fish. Very antisocial. I keep a pair of long-handled pliers handy to get the fly out of their mouths safely while admiring the large number of very sharp teeth. They will bite the pliers. Do not use your fingers. Again, ask me how I know this.
Upon release, it’s not unusual to observe the pickerel hanging around a few yards away, glaring and plotting hideous revenge.
So this is the August routine, occasionally leavened with a scramble into a brook trout stream if conditions allow.
It’s peaceful. Kind of boring, in a good way.
And then in the fall the game shifts back to rivers and streams for trout.
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MOMIX is one of the featured performers at this year’s Arts Connected fundraiser on Aug. 29.
Barry Blitt created an original piece for the fundraiser that will adorn a limited edition T-Shirt for sale during the event.Provided
The evening will feature live plein air painting by artists from Plein Air Litchfield, performances by Our Culture Is Beautiful (OCIB), fire performer Cinderfella, and Susan Becker Aziz’s monumental humpback whale puppet, originally created for Paul Winter’s “Missa Gaia.” Guests will also have the opportunity to purchase artwork from a curated exhibition, with proceeds supporting the Arts Council’s mission to strengthen and promote the arts throughout Northwest Connecticut.
This year’s honorary host committee includes Meryl Streep, Diane von Furstenberg, Tim Daly, Téa Leoni, Maria Horn, Patti LuPone, Jack O’Brien, Sam Waterston and Paul Winter. Creative cocktail attire is encouraged, and attendance is limited. The event is open to guests 21 and older.
For more information or to purchase tickets, visit artsnwct.org
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