Wednesday 14 August 2013

Ripe Blueberries

Zoe Panchen

The first ripe blueberry (Vaccinium uliginosum) seen!
I saw my first ripe blue berry here this week! We have had some lovely sunny warm days for the last week or so and the plants are rapidly producing their ripe fruit and dispersing their seeds. The capsules of many of the louseworts especially the hairy lousewort (Pedicularis hirsuta) have burst and are dispersing their seeds. The Mountain Avens (Dryas integrifolia) now has white fluffy old mans beard and the Fleabane (Erigeron eriocephalus) has creamy pompoms. It is gratifying to see the completion of the reproductive cycle of the plants we have been watching for the last ten weeks.


The creamy pompom of Fleabane
(Erigeron eriocephalus)
ready to disperse its seeds
The old mans beard of Mountain Avens (Dryas integrifolia)





















The last of the plants we have been studying in Iqaluit have finally come into flower. The Cardamine pratensis with its delicate pale lilac petals is popping up everywhere in waterlogged areas by the side of the Sylvia Grinnell River and there are dashes of bright yellowy-orange in damp low areas where the Yellow Mountain Saxifrage (Saxifraga aizoides) is coming into flower.

Pale lilac flowers of Cardamine pratensis


Yellow Mountain Saxifrage (Saxifraga aizoides)



Monday 12 August 2013

If it is a Tern it is an Arctic Tern

Zoe Panchen
Long Tailed Jaeger silhouetted against the frozen Lake Hazen
The male Rock Ptarmigan keeps his white plumage all year
but the female changes to brown plumage for the summer
Before leaving for Ellesmere Island, I was flicking through my bird book to get an idea of what birds I might see at Lake Hazen. I was surprised at how few there were. In fact there are only about 20 birds whose range extends to northern Ellesmere Island. It does, however, make it a lot easier to identify the birds seen, especially some of the more challenging groups like gulls, terns and waders. If it is a tern it is an Arctic Tern, if it is a gull it is most likely a Glaucus Gull and the only three waders are easy to distinguish between. The birds here have little fear of humans and will approach quite closely for their photo op!

The Red Throated Loon looks like it flies upside-down!
Common Ringed Plover approaching her nest with 4 huge eggs
All the birds are ground nesters, they have to be as there is no vegetation higher than a few inches! When out walking I kept my eyes peeled for birds flying up from nests and birds eggs lying in shallow depressions in the ground.
This Redknot did her broken wing impression
for about 1km to lead me away from her nest
I found two Red Throated Loon nests on islands in a lagoon and a lake close to Camp Hazen that I regularly walked by on my way to or from my observation sites. The female sat motionless with neck stretched out for weeks and then finally in the last week of July both nest produced 2 little chicks. The snow geese who nested just by camp were not so lucky as a pair of wolves wondered through camp and ate the eggs.

Red Throated Loon with newly hatched chicks
I saw 15 bird species while at Lake Hazen. I even saw a Canada Goose and some Ravens hear at Camp Hazen that are way north of their usual range. The two birds I would have really liked to see but didn’t were the Gyrfalcon and the Snowy Owl.

Friday 9 August 2013

Muskox and Wolves

Zoe Panchen

Just half a dozen years ago, the Lake Hazen area was apparently teaming with muskox and there were so many Arctic Hares that you would trip over them! When I arrived this year there was not a single animal in sight nor did I see any for a whole week. Parks staff suggested that this may be the low in the animal abundance cycle and that there seemed to be more wolves these days. So every animal I did see was greeted with much excitement.
Mountains and tundra near Camp Hazen
but not an animal to be seen!
I was looking for plants around the Snow Goose River delta one day and looked up to see out of the corner of my eye an Alice in Wonderland vision. It was in fact an Arctic Hare up on its hind legs in its typical pose. It was just missing a pocket watch! Since then I saw one or two hares every few days but certainly not in the numbers of just a few years ago.

The Arctic Hare just needs a pocket watch
for a part in Alice in Wonderland
A few days later a park staff member spotted a small group of Muskox in the distance, they were but tiny black dots even viewed through the telescope. For a few weeks we saw small herds of muskox passing just north of camp and often hanging out for a day on a flat dry spot by Skeleton Creek just above camp and then they were all gone again. One Muskox even ate the flowers of a Pallas’ Wallflower (Erysimum pallasii) I had been painstakingly photographing every three days as a visual record of phenological progression! It was exciting to see the muskox each time they wondered by.


Muskox hanging out on a plateau near camp
with Varsity Mountain in the back ground
Male Muskox shedding his winter coat
One evening we were eating supper in the cook tent when a wolf howled and announced its presence in camp. Rushing outside we were treated to a powerful wolf striding by camp just a 100m away, what an awesome sight!

Artic Wolf striding past camp
I also saw a few little hamster like Lemmings and an Arctic Fox high up on McGill Mountain. The picture would  have been complete if I had seen some Peary Caribou but none were seen anywhere in the park this summer, so I contented myself with having seen their bleached white antlers here and there.

Lemming
 

Wednesday 7 August 2013

Searching for a Needle in a Haystack

Zoe Panchen

Plants in the High Arctic are small, really small, some smaller than a dime. I had a list of plants I wanted to find at Lake Hazen and some documentation on areas where they had been found before by botanists participating in Operation Hazen in the 1950s but it was still like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
The tiny Cardamine bellidifolia, barely bigger than a 5cent piece
In order to record the developmental progress of each species, I wanted to find the plants before they started to flower so I was locating many by last years’ seed heads or marsescent leaves (dead leaves that persist on the plant over winter and protect the plant from the harsh winter conditions) and the rest I found when the tiny new leaves emerged. As with many of the more exciting finds, I happened to notice the seed head and then plants of the tiny primula, Androsace septentrionalis, while sitting down for lunch. Other plants like the Louseworts (Pedicularis) with their 6” tall seed heads were much easier to locate. Very quickly I had sites for over 20 species I am interested in but then many days went by when I found no new species…...


A pencil dwarfs the primula species,
Androsace septentrionalis
Then, while climbing McGill Mountain, a 1000m high peak behind Camp Hazen I came across the Tufted Saxifrage (Saxifraga cespitosa) nestled amongst the rock near the summit! I was not sure it was going to be logistically possible to climb for 3hrs twice a week to monitor this species. Fortunately I found many more lower down the mountain but still a 2 hour hike from Camp Hazen.
A few days later when doing a 3 day hike from the Henrietta Nesmith Glacier back to Camp Hazen via Weasel Lake, Nesmith River and the Snow Goose River and again while sitting down for lunch we saw the cup of distinctive bristle lined leaves of the Spider Plant (Saxifraga flagellaris) emerging from a mound of moss. I nicknamed the plant the strawberry plant as it sends out runners just like a strawberry plant. Alas again this plant was a 2 day walk from camp!

Spider Plant (Saxifraga flagellaris)
has runners like strawberries and
distinctive bristles along the leaf margins
On Canada Day we climbed up Omingmak Mtn, and I found Cardamine bellidifolia, sheltering under a rock high up in a talus field, another plant I had been looking for! Once I had the search image of these tiny plants I was able to locate them on the slope of McGill Mountain within daily walking distance so I could study them.
Some plants not only thrive in the harsh Arctic environment but actually prefer to grow in even harsher arctic-alpine conditions and the tufted saxifrage and spider plant are among them. I am doing a lot of hiking up hill to see these beautiful plants twice a week and they are fast turning into my favourite species too!
 
Marsh Saxifrage (saxifraga hirculus) proved to be about the toughest plant to find with its tiny linear leaves hidden by the taller sedges and grasses but when it opened its bright orange-yellow flowers it could be seen all over the sedge meadows.
 



Tuesday 6 August 2013

Introducing Lake Hazen

Zoe Panchen

I have just got back from Lake Hazen, Ellesmere Island after spending the last 7 weeks studying plant phenology there. At Camp Hazen, where I was based, the only methods of communication were via radio and satellite. There was definitely no internet access in such a remote location so I have accumulated many stories to tell and photos to share. Here is the first of several posts on my work and my wonderful experience at Lake Hazen (sign up to receive an email when there is a new post at the bottom of this page).

Camp Hazen on the shores Lake Hazen with McGill Mountain rising 1000m above camp. I took the photo when I walked out across the frozen lake to Johns Island about 1.5km out on the lake a few days after I arrived in early June.
Lake Hazen is 60km long and located in the centre of Quttinirpaaq National Park at the very north of Ellesmere Island. Half way along the lake on the north shore is the Camp Hazen warden station where I stayed. The camp was originally set up by the Defence Research Board in 1957 for the"Operation Hazen" scientific studies that were part of the International Geophysical Year. Rising 1000m above camp to the north are McGill, Omingmak (Inuktitut for Muskox) and Varsity Mountains. To the north of these mountains is the vast icecap of Northern Ellesmere Island and beyond that......the Arctic Ocean and the North Pole.

I took this photo of Camp Hazen at close to midnight but it could have been midday it was so bright with the midnight sun! The green tent on the right is the original 1957 Operation Hazen Atwell tent, where 4 McGill students spent the winter recording the weather - it hovered around -40C! It is now the cook tent complete with gas stove, gas fridge and tank for water pumped from the lake. The two white sleeper tents were installed a couple of years ago. The vertical box by the aerial is the shower equipped with a shower bag but the sun was never warm enough to heat the water in the black bag and anyway it was too cool for showering al fresco so we contented ourselves with "sink washes". On the left is the emergency shelter with radio. 
Camp Hazen is so far north, just 9 degrees of latitude to the north pole, that the sun is high in the sky 24-7. In fact the lighting for photography was the best at midnight. The sun came streaming through my window at night. Some of the park staff would cover the window to create some semblance of dark but I preferred to keep my window uncovered to experience the uniqueness of the midnight sun.

The Twin Otter plane leaving after dropping myself and park staff at Lake Hazen with Varsity Mountain in the back ground. We flew by Twin Otter from Resolute (which, along with Grise Fiord, are the most northerly communities in Canada) stopping to refuel 3hrs later at the Eureka Weather Station, dropping park staff at Tanquary Fiord warden station 1hr later and finally arriving at Lake Hazen 1/2hr later. Just to give an idea of how far north and how far from civilisation we were, each stop was virtually due north of the last stop. By mid July all the snow in this picture had melted.
The area was truly a remote and vast wilderness, no roads for hundreds of miles, not even a foot trail; no people, just the odd herd of Muskox passing by; total silence or at most the sound of the wind or birds calling. It was an amazingly exhilarating feeling striding out across the tundra and up the mountainsides to my study sights.

Candled ice beached by wind action on the shore near camp Hazen
Lake Hazen was completely covered with ice and safe for skidoo travel until early July. In mid July a ring of water appeared around the lake edges by which time the ice had changed to candled ice. We could hear chandelier like tinkling as the ice slowly disintegrated. Depending on the direction of the wind, the sheets of candled ice would be blown up on to shore to form ice waves. Normally Lake Hazen is an oasis of calm with little wind but on the last couple of days of July a huge wind storm arrived and within 24hrs all of the 80% ice cover of the lake completely disappeared and there were waves lapping at the shore. We suspect that the wind action caused warmer water to be churned up and melt much of the ice. It was quite the transformation.

Looking south from the slopes of McGill Mountain.
Camp Hazen is the tiny dots on the near shore of Lake Hazen with Johns Island behind.
I took this photo the day after the huge windstorm which changed the lake from 80% ice cover to 100% open water.

Wednesday 31 July 2013

Summer! Short but Sweet


 Sofia Jain




As darkness begins to show itself again, the snowmobile have changed to speedboats, and the tuques to bug spray. After what seemed like weeks of rainy 4 degree days, last week the temperature was finally getting into the double digits and the fog was breaking up. The warming tundra is green and smells sweet and spiced. With the warmth the mosquito have become much more numerous. They are just everywhere; falling flattened out of my notebook, escaping into my apartment out of my backpack, flying into my mouth only to be swallowed. I’ve come to love the refuge I find in my bug shirt.

Last month when I jokingly asked someone, “So when does summer happen?”. He replied, “The third weekend in July.” I thought it was a joke then, but now I’m not so sure. Last weekend the temperature rose to about 20 degrees, but with the Arctic sun it felt warmer. It was wonderful: eating outside with other researchers, borrowing a kayak to go for a little paddle. I even jumped into the river and was almost glad for the numbness it caused because for once I was not itchy and I didn’t feel the pinch of new bites as I scrambled back under my bug shirt.

 
But alas, tomorrow is August, and with it should come cool temperatures again. I cannot believe how little of summer we saw. People say it’s unusually cool, but the elders say this was how it used to be.

Many of the plants are beginning to fruit now, but there are also many late bloomers.


Rhododendron tomentosa
 (Labrador tea) in fruit
Dryas integrifolia (Mountain Avens) in fruit

Diapensia lapponica in fruit


Wednesday 17 July 2013

A walk around town


Sofia Jain

You step out the door, dropping your sunglasses onto your nose and pulling on a tuque. You jump over a puddle of cigarette butts, used diapers and pop cans. Looking up as you land safely on the other side, you are struck by a beautiful view over the tops of the roofs of the bay; a soft fog rising of the water turning the hill behind it a watercolor blue. You shrug your shoulders against the cold wind. Making your way down the hill you pass a raven chatting to himself in a complex dialect that sounds like electronic raindrops and dog barks. A car stops to let you cross the road and you become engulfed in dust as they continue on their way. A stream of kids skid by on their bicycles shouting war cries. A lady stands blowing puffs of cigarette smoke into the air. You follow a little stream filled with plastic bags. Its banks are lined with bright pink, yellow and white flowers. You’re ears fill with the sound of rushing water and house construction. You stop at the store to pick up a few things, trying not to let your mind linger on the prices...

 

Packing your oatmeal and apples away into your backpack, someone holds the door open for you. You’re body vibrates as a plane flies only tens of meters overhead. Arriving at the beech you pick your way over the dried kelp, a rotting seal fin, a broken hunting riffle. You can smell the brine of the bay as you pass some beached sea ice and some boats eager to get out on the blue bay. The tide is out, so the water's edge is almost a kilometer away. The tides here are second only to that of the Bay of Fundy. Carvers drill shapes into their soap stone in old sea cans or wood huts along the beach road. A lonely puppy waddles up to you pawing the air. You pat its soft fur. A boy watches you from where he hangs under a house. All houses are built on metal poles in Iqaluit to prevent the heat from the house in winter from melting the permafrost and causing the ground to shift. A group of women walk by giggling. A baby gurgles from his snug spot behind his mother in her Amauti. The sun breaks out and it’s suddenly warm enough to take off your jacket; some mosquitos drift by on cue. The bay lights up and the fog dissipates. The sled dogs howl at you from where they are tied up along a stream. A stray dog runs along, steeling some food from the others and causing havoc. You decide to take a short cut up through the tundra. You hop over the ditch and duck under a pipe bringing petrol up to the power plant. Clambering across the rocks died neon orange and electric green with lichen, you come across tiny flowers, a forgotten hat, a stroller, a worn out sleeping bag and a fallen tent. You stop to steady yourself and catch the last part of a snow bunting’s tune. You proceed without applauding. A butterfly flaps by as you crunch over a patch of snow. The sun is shrouded in clouds once again. Cold rain stings your face. You run up the last bit of tundra, down to road and jump back over your welcome mat. Unlocking the door you pray for a new pair of shoes to have appeared in the entrance announcing that you will have company for the next few days.

 

Saturday 13 July 2013

The world of the very small


Sofia Jain
 
Well, summer has arrived. Though it’s somewhat an exaggerative use of this warm and sunny word. The only things that makes it feel like summer is the sound of mosquitos the smell of sunscreen and of course the flourishing plant life.

The past few weeks have been greater than zero so it’s an improvement, and temperatures have pushed up past 10 degrees in certain happy moments. Though Iqaluit has been engulfed fog and drizzles from the humidity off the melting ice.


Moss (I wish that I could identify mosses)
I’ve found having to spend so much time on my hands and knees, cross-eyed, trying to determine whether the hairs on this plant are branched or stellate and whether this plants flower is cream or light yellow, has given me an immense appreciation for the small.




Vaccinium uliginosum (Bilberry)


Rhododendron lapponicum (Lapland Rosebay)


Erigeron eriocephalus  (One flower fleabane)


Armeria scabra (Sea thrift)


Phyllodoce caerulea (Blue mountain heather)

Wednesday 3 July 2013

The Trials of Being a Botanist



Sofia Jain



Not to demean the wonders we are seeing nor how much I love my job, but while hunting for plants can be exciting and rewarding, it also has its difficulties. Probably most troublesome is the weather. The wind spends most days attempting to flatten you. It has been a reasonable temperature of late, but with windchill it still feels like winter. There was one day where I felt like my cheeks were being blown back as if I was a dog with my head out the car window. The wind grabbed some pages out of my notebook and whipped them away into the nearest pond before we could scramble after most of them. On most days I couldn’t tell you whether I’m too cold or too hot, but it’s definitely not in between. I get sweaty from the exertion of hiking around, but the surface of my skin is numb and sore from the endless wind pulling the heat away, and the occasional pelting by sleet.
There was one glorious day without wind nor cloud on July 1st. New flowers were popping up left right and center. It was hard to keep moving rather than laze about in the sun. Then They came; floating effortlessly on the breezeless day, alive with the warmth and thirsty. By lunchtime we were back in our layers to shield us from the bloodthirsty rather than from the cold, and there I was swatting away with 3 bites flourishing on my forehead. 
Worst of all perhaps are days like today, where I wake up to this...


Really? A blizzard on July 3rd?



Getting over the tundra can also be troublesome. When we first got here there were banks of snow between us and the snowless ridges with our exposed subjects. Some of the banks were taller than I am. These could be trying to get over. One moment you would be doing fine and the next your entire leg was swallowed by snow. When going downhill, it was often easier to just slide down on our bums. And, when down was not the way to go, we sometimes resorted to rolling over the snow which involved a lot less sinking then putting all our pressure on one foot. In one instance, my leg ended up in a river under the snow and came back out without a boot. Several minutes and wet mittens later I had a boot full of ice cold water back on my foot and we called it a day. As the snow melted it became easier to explore new places, though it was more difficult to find the same sites again because the landscape underneath the snow was unrecognizable, and it was not easy to return home without feet sopping wet from the streams of snow melt. Bare tundra is not any easier to walk over when it's something you are doing for hours every day. Tundra is really hills of boulder jutting out and every angle with a sprinkle of spongy plants. I’ve rolled my ankles more times than I can count.
Really, my mind glances off these difficulties, barely taking notice, because it’s so busy taking in all of this.
 

July 1st Rhododendron lapponicum
 (Lapland rosebay) and
Pedicularis hirsuta (Hairy loosewart)
Astragalus alpinus (Alpine milk-vetch)
Saxifraga tricuspidata (Prickly saxifrage)

Sunday 30 June 2013

Flecks of color under a cold summer wind


Sofia Jain


Pedicularis hirsuta (Hairy loosewart),
 Diapensia lapponica (Diapensia), Vaccinium uliglinosum (Bilberry)
Despite the persistent cold, the hillside is alive with colour. We are up to 21 species of interest in flower. It's almost funny, how excited I get when we find a new flower. When Orla calls out an "Oh look at this" at a patch of colour that caught her eye, I run over to lie in the warm moss, squirming a little with excitement, to inspect what miraculous little bundle of beauty has sprouted into being. Don't be fooled by their cuteness, they are hardy little things. The loosewarts are even partially parasitic of the surrounding plants.
We are finding that a lot of the plants we thought were one thing really turn out to be something else. It's so much easier to identify and notice them once they have reproduction on their mind.


Eutrema edwardsii (Edward's eutrema)
I've received word from Zoe. She seems to be making good progress in Lake Hazen. She has found many more species of plants we are interested in. She's also seen muskox, lemmings, arctic foxes, and arctic hares, and wolf walked right through her camp! She says she has done some amazing hikes around the mountains and glaciers. Too bad photos can't be sent through these InReach devices.


Oxytropis arctopia (in the pea family)

Pedicularis flammea (Red-tipped loosewart)



Papaver (Poppy)


Dryas integrifolia (Mountain avens)