Extension News: September 2010 Archives

While I can’t say that I have a favorite bird, hummingbirds are certainly one of my favorites: colorful, fearless, and busy. I hear their twittering constantly as I work in the garden. I’ve watched adults court and females raise the newly fledged babies.

A year ago we had a female with two little ones flying from basket to basket of colorful flowers on my porch. Mom would twitter at the little ones, then fly off to another kind of flower and they’d fly after her. After a few days the youngsters wouldn’t respond so quickly to her, staying with their chosen blossoms while Mom zipped away.

Mom was unusual in that she seemed curious about us, the human residents. When we sat on the deck for lunch she would come and circle under the umbrella, watching us as she twirled. It made me positively dizzy. If I worked in the yard, she was always there. When I worked among the phlox she would come close and squeak at me, probably protecting her favorite food. I decided it was just as well that I didn’t understand Hummingbird.

In late August I started having my morning tea in the garden, wedging myself in among the zinnias­small pink ones­as closely as I could. One morning as I sipped, I heard the familiar twittering and the “whum” of hummingbird wings close to my ear. I didn’t move, but felt the swirl of air by my face and the incredible lightness of a hummingbird as she perched on my forearm and peered at me with her shiny black eyes.

She knew perfectly well I wasn’t a plant, but chose to land there. Although she rested on my arm for only a moment, she then stayed inches from me, testing each of the pink zinnias before she flew off. This wasn’t the first time I’d had a wild bird perch on me, but a hummingbird! I was thrilled.

For a few weeks each time I sat in the garden she would come, stay close while we observed each other, then zip off. When the hummingbirds disappeared to go south, I wished her well. Sadly, none of the females this year seem interested. I fear she has not returned.

However, a male hummingbird, a ruby-jeweled beauty, has taught me that I have underestimated his species. As a giant I assumed that such little creatures were probably not terribly bright, but this gentleman looks in my windows and recognizes the hummingbird feeder.

He started by greeting me when I hung the feeder out in the morning. Then he started displaying, hovering in front of the slider, as I walked toward it carrying the feeder. Now he twits and squeaks outside my kitchen window as I fill the feeder bottle. When I move away from the sink he zips around the corner of the house to the deck, hovering by the slider until I open the door and come out. He precedes me to the hanger for the feeder, and then flies off, not stopping to feed. Usually a female comes as soon as I step away. Then he zooms down from his perch in the nearby hemlock.

Is he waiting for me to bring out the “babe magnet?” Could this be one of the hatchlings I watched being trained last summer? A bird accustomed to the proximity of humans?

I’ll never know, but I salute hummingbirds everywhere: birds as bright as their feathers.

By Carol “Cat” White, Master Gardener

Drawing by Pamela Doherty, UNH Cooperative Extension
 

It’s tempting to gather colorful wildflowers growing robustly along New Hampshire roadsides, especially pretty purple loosestrife, with its long-lasting flowers. This Eurasian plant escaped from perennial and herb gardens and now thrives in roadside ditches and wetlands.

Later in the fall, the bright orange bittersweet berries accented by contrasting yellow husks, burst open in pretty clusters along vigorous vines. These tough vines wrap around tree trunks, eventually strangling them. Common along roadsides, the berries lure those looking for attractive fall decorations.

But don’t pick these invasive plants! It’s illegal to transport viable plant parts of these and other decorative but invasive plants in New Hampshire, because picking spreads their seeds. Horror stories abound.

One bittersweet door wreath became a jungle of bittersweet vines that took hold under a deck as the berries fell from the wreath and rolled under the deck. They sprouted and created a nasty eradication problem because it was difficult to crawl to the plant.

Loosestrife is pretty because of the millions of flowers on each stalk, on its many branched, sturdy stems, but they develop as many as two-and-a-half million seeds per plant each year.

The non-native plants on the state’s prohibited invasive species list have all been carefully evaluated for their nuisance potential; they possess certain traits that give them an advantage over most native species. In their new habitat, these invasives have escaped the natural predators and biological controls that keep them in check in their native lands. Their abundant seed production, aggressive roots, lack of insect predators and other traits give them a competitive advantage over our native plants.

Burning bush, for example, comes into its glory in the fall because of the flaming red color of its leaves. But as this robust Asian plant matures, each branch drips with hundreds of orange berries.

Rose hips, the round seed pods from multiflora rose, have caught the eye of crafters who make lovely wreaths from the thorny-stemmed hips. This Japanese native was first introduced in 1886 as a rootstock for cultivated roses. Later, the U.S. Soil Conservation Service promoted it for soil erosion control, and nurseries even promoted it as a “living fence” for livestock. Now it is a plague on old farms.

Birds eat and spread all these berries: bittersweet, rose hips and burning bush. At one time they were promoted as sources for food for birds in winter! These seeds germinate easily, and they sprout up at the edges of fields where birds rest in the hedgerows, near birdbaths and under shrubs where they nest.

Japanese knotweed, colloquially known as “bamboo,” flourishes along roadsides and flowers in the late summer to early fall. The six-foot-tall, hollow, arching branches produce clusters of white flowers along the stem. With the first frost, the entire plant dies back to the ground. This non-native plant, imported as an ornamental shrub, spreads by a dense mat of underground roots, totally overtaking other plants in its way. Any node that finds soil will root and form a new plant.

The milkweed-like pods of black swallow-wort are a curiosity in the fall when they burst open and release white fluff attached to a seed. Breezes and wind blow this fluff all over, spreading this nasty perennial vine far and wide. It has tenacious white roots that look like spaghetti when dug up. These root clumps get tangled up with shrub and flower roots and can quickly ruin a garden. They are especially annoying when entangled with lilacs because the swallow-wort leaves resemble lilac leaves.

As the trees begin to turn their vibrant fall colors, the ugliness of the Crimson King Norway maple becomes conspicuous. While all the native trees put on an exciting fall color show, this tree’s foliage turns black­a good time to make the case for cutting the Crimson Kings down. Many of these trees are now mature enough to produce seed, worsening their invasive impact.

The N.H. Department of Agriculture, Markets & Food took decisive action to prohibit certain invasive plants because these aggressive and prolific aliens crowd out native plants, reduce natural biodiversity, create overgrown jungles in our forests, old pastures and orchards, and block scenic views. The purple loosestrife that ruins wetlands is regulated as an aquatic invasive by the N.H. Department of Environmental Services.

For more information

Complete list of 26 New Hampshire legally prohibited invasive plants, photos of each, and tips for controlling them: http://bit.ly/invasives
 
Disposing of invasive plant materials: http://bit.ly/invasivesdisposal

Alternatives to Invasive Landscape Plants http://bit.ly/invasivealternatives
 
Doug Cygan, Invasive Species Coordinator for the Division of Plant Industry, works with community groups can advise and assist with specific problem situations: 271-3488, dcygan@agr.state.nh.us

Anne Krantz is also a member of the UNH Cooperative Extension Invasive Plant Outreach Group

Photo caption and credit: Purple loosestrife blooms along a highway. Photo by Anne Krantz.

In early July, I volunteered once again. My wife says I have hand-in-the-air disease. Truth be known, I wasn’t sure what I had been embarrassed into doing. Embarrassed because I really didn’t have an excuse for not getting involved in doing some water sampling for the river group I am associated with. Everyone else in the Upper Merrimack River Local Advisory Committee has a day job, whereas I invent my day as my head leaves the pillow.

So I signed on to take a water sample under the bridge over the Merrimack River near the Hannah Dustin park-and-ride. I take a sample with a small, sterile bag that I seal immediately, then enter it on a form designed for tracking it all the way to the lab, where it is tested for bacterial count.

From there I go into Penacook to take more samples from the Contoocook River above and below a small power dam near the center of town. I have a bucket on a rope (very high-tech) that I use to dip the samples. I duct-tape a rock to the side of the bucket to make it tip for the dip. I pour off the sample water into two bottles. Each bottle has a location designator and a place for the time and date as well as my initials.

The N.H. Dept. of Environmental Services (DES) will use the samples taken near the dam on the Contoocook River to evaluate what, if any, changes the impoundment makes in the water quality as it passes through the penstock (gate controlling the water flow). This testing is done in conjunction with the re-licensing of the power-producing dam.

While I am taking the dam samples, another person meets me there with yet another sample from the Contoocook River. I then transport the samples to the DES in a cooler.

When I arrive at the DES building in Concord, I drop the four samples taken near the Penacook Upper Falls dam at the lab. From there, I go around the building, where four additional samples collected by other volunteers are waiting for me to transport to the Franklin Regional Sewage Plant for bacterial evaluation in their lab.

The purpose of the bacteria portion of the sampling is to evaluate the condition of the river on a regular basis during the summer months. The data from 11 river sites: one from the Winnipesaukee, one from the Pemigewasset, one from the Contoocook and eight from the Merrimack along its course from Franklin to Bow, have been incorporated into reports by the DES over the years. Researchers of various types make comparisons of our rivers with other streams throughout the nation. The EPA has several studies involving bacteria and several other substances that find their way into our surface water.
After my round-robin adventure each Wednesday, I am free to resume my regular non-scheduled behavior. During the second week, since I was free to roam, I asked the lab technicians at the Franklin facility if I could have a look at their “green roof” I’d been hearing about.

“I’m glad you asked,” he said. After some background comments, he told me I was the first “outsider” to view it. For those unfamiliar with the concept, a green roof is a technique that uses growing plants to reduce a building’s heating and cooling costs on which they are placed.

According to the technician, flat roofs like the one at the Franklin Sewage Treatment Plant are the easiest to retrofit. Typically, they begin by putting down a layer of pea stone over the roof membrane, followed by still another semi-permeable membrane which holds up the growing medium and allows water to go through to the pea-stone layer and drained away in the usual manner. The plants transplanted into the growing medium are usually low-growth, heat tolerant perennials such as sedums, mosses, and ground phlox.

The long rectangular beds on the roof of the Franklin plant look like giant patches of green, highlighted with the colors of the blooms of the low-growth perennials. The yellow and red sedums were in full flower, and the phlox, which had bloomed earlier, provided a dark-green background, while the mosses added a light green trim.

When I arrive home from these Wednesday jaunts, my wife gives a sigh of relief. I passed another day without falling into the river! Last Wednesday, out of curiosity and to dispel boredom, she asked to accompany me on my water-testing rounds. Of course, I had to reciprocate by accompanying her on long walk, topping it off with lunch in an out-of-the-way place.

By Bill Dawson, Community Tree Steward