Contrasting Years

Zoe Panchen

In an earlier post, I mentioned that Lake Hazen this year was much warmer and had far less snow than last year. There were other interesting differences too. On my last day at Lake Hazen last year I finally found the bright yellow Arnica (Arnica angustifolia) flowers that I had been searching for all summer. They carpeted a stream bank below McGill Mountain. Now that I had found where they grew, I was keen to monitor their flowering time. This year though, although there were plenty of plants on the bank, there were only 20 flowers, a far cry from the hundreds of flowers last year on the very same bank. I have a couple of ideas as to why this might be the case.



Bank covered in Arnica (Anica angustifolia) flowers in 2013



The same and wider view of  the bank of Arnica (Anica angustifolia)
with just 20 flowers (marked with white plant tags) in 2014

Arctic plants pre-form their flower buds the year before. This is so that they can maximise the short growing season and not waste time developing flowers at the start of the growing season. Arctic plants also tend not to flower every year. Flowering requires a lot of energy and because the growing season is so short and there are few nutrients in the Arctic soil, it can take several years to gain enough resources to produce flowers.

Arnica (Arnica angustifolia) and spider Lake Hazen 2013

 

The year before I started doing my phenology research at Lake Hazen (2012) was similar to many in the last decade, much warmer than in previous decades. It was likely therefore a longer growing season, enabling the Arnica to pre-form its flowers. Along comes 2013, an atypically cold year, the Arnica flowers profusely but late. So it is possible that the Arnica used all its available resources last year flowering and hence did not have enough left to preform buds for this year. The other possibility is that because 2013 was such a cold, short summer that there was not enough time for the Arnica to preform buds for 2014.

Artctic White Heather (Cassiope tetragona) bush
covered in white flowers in 2013

Arctic White Heather (Cassiope tetragona) bush
with just 3 white flowers in bottom right hand corner in 2014.
Note the large number of spent flowers and capsules from 2013.

I noticed the Arctic White Heather (Cassiope tetragona) too this year had few flowers compared to last year, particularly in a gully high up on McGill Mountain. Last year the bushes were covered in white flowers but this year each plant only had a handful of flowers if any at all. The heather relies on the insulation of snow cover to survive the harsh Arctic winters. At Lake Hazen it only grows in gullies, depressions and the lee side of hills where the snow forms drifts. An additional reason why there may have been fewer flowers this year could be the lack of a protective layer of snow killed off many of the stems with pre-formed flower buds. The gully on McGill Mountain was filled with snow last year but not this year. There did seem to be a lot of die back on the heather this year too.

Arctic White Heather (Cassiope tetragona) Lake Hazen 2013

Bunny Trouble

Zoe Panchen

Field work often comes with certain unforeseen issues and in my case that seems to have been the antics of the wildlife. A muskox tripped over one of my temperature data loggers and dragged the whole set up a few yards but amazingly it continued to work. The Artic Hares, on the other hand, just love to eat. They chewed through a temperature sensor wire, ate plants I was monitoring and even had a go at the plant tags labeling the plants. In Iqaluit the problem was with Ravens and humans pulling out plant tags.

At my highest site, 750m up McGill Mountain, I arrived one day to find what looked like a mini hurricane had gone through with plant tags strewn everywhere! In some cases it was possible to match the plant tag with the correct plant but in many cases monitoring that plant could no longer continue.

Mmmm …. lousewort flowers, my favourite!

On a couple of occasions there was an Arctic Hare at “work” close to our sites and the cute “bunny” clearly has a preference for flowers rather than leaves; high on the list of favourites are Arctic Louseworts (Pedicularis arctica), Arctic Poppies (Papaver) and Spider Plant (Saxifraga flagellaris) flowers.

A-hunting we will go!

Zoe Panchen
I just returned from my field work at Lake Hazen, there is no internet in the wilds of 81°N so this and
the next few post will be an update on my time from 13^th June – 2^nd Aug at Lake Hazen.

Although my passion is plants, I have to say the high light of my time at Lake Hazen was seeing a pack of Arctic Wolves heading out on a hunt go by just 100yrds away. We had barely set out of camp when I saw a white movement just over the rise ahead. I thought it might be the Arctic Hare that often visited camp but just a few seconds later an Arctic wolf appeared. It was too far away to take a good picture and I needed to change to my zoom lens so I just watched as it continued on its way across the tundra. Then another wolf appeared and then another and then there was another just by us. I don’t know who was more surprised the wolves or us. I just had time to get out my camera, change lenses and take a few pictures as the last wolf went by.

Last of the pack of eight Arctic Wolves passing Camp Hazen

While there was truly a wow factor to seeing these animals up close in the wild, what really blew me away was the ease and speed with which they moved across the tundra. In less than ten minutes they had covered the distance from Camp Hazen to the Snow Goose River delta, a distance that would take me about 1/2hr. Just amazing to see a line of 8 white wolves moving effortlessly across the tundra below Omingmak Mountain.

Three of the pack of eight Arctic Wolves moving
effortlessly across the tundra by Lake Hazen

The End of Flowering

Emma Micalizzi

A last blast of colour from arctic fireweed (Chamerion latifolium).

July is almost over and almost all of the plants that we are monitoring have already finished flowering, and some species, such as purple saxifrage (Saxifraga oppositifolia) and one flower fleabane (Erigeron eriocephalus), have already began dispersing their seeds.  It feels like not that long ago that we were walking through snow and tagging plants that hadn’t come up yet, based on dead growth from last year.  In fact, some of our sites still had snow in places just a couple weeks ago.  Now we are beginning to pull tags out of the warm tundra where plants have finished dispersing their seeds.  It seems like the plant life cycles move very quickly here as the plants try to fit everything in before the impending winter.  The transition between most of our species being in peak flower and virtually no plants flowering was a very abrupt one, and some of the plants that still had flowers last week now have rapidly developing fruit, like the Lapland lousewort (Pedicularis lapponica). 

Ice still present in the Sylvia Grinnell River, a reminder that winter is never far away.

Another reminder that we are in the Arctic,  We had thought that ground here had been thawed for a while until on one visit when I suppose the ice broke free of the permafrost.

Some fledglings newly out of their nest.

As the plants finish flowering, the fledgling birds flee their nests, and the last of the ice finally disappears, it feels like summer is making its last stand before temperatures beginning falling and winter encroaches on Iqaluit.  I feel like my summer has flown by and it’s hard to believe that Zoe will be back in one week, and that I will leave in two weeks.  I feel like I still have a lot that I want to do and see while I’m here, and I’m wondering how I will fit it all in.  Fortunately I did get an opportunity to go for a hike up the Sylvia Grinnell River last weekend, and it was nice to see a side of the tundra that was more desolate than some of our sites.  I’m still hoping that I’ll be able to go sea kayaking before I leave and see the islands where the Sylvia Grinnell River opens into the bay. 

I’m sure that these last two weeks will fly by as fast as the past two months and before I know it, I’ll be heading south to a land with trees and dark nights.  I have thoroughly enjoyed conducting the field work this summer and spending time in Iqaluit.  I think that this has been a great experience that I will take a lot from and I feel very fortunate to have had this opportunity.

The view from a hike up the Sylvia Grinnell River.

Words From Lake Hazen

Zoe Panchen – 24^th June

We finally arrived at Lake Hazen on Friday the thirteenth but only just! After 3 days of waiting in Resolute I was anxious to arrive and get my research started but as we approached the camp, the co-pilot turned to us and asked if it was fog or dust ahead and I had visions of us having to turn around and go back. We circled four times before landing on the bumpy gravel runway.

When we landed I was amazed at the difference in snow cover from last year. There is no snow and the ground is bone dry, this time last year there was mud and snow everywhere. The first few days were also much warmer than anything I experienced last year. The temperature sensors we have put out are showing that the temperature the plants are experiencing at ground level here are reaching 20°C on sunny days but only 10°C at weather station height. We have had several dust storms and as we walk through the sedge meadows we kick up clouds of dust, again something I never saw last year.

Varsity Mountain, Lake Hazen mid-June 2014

Varsity Mountain, Lake Hazen mid-June 2013

              

The plants are at least a week or two ahead of where they were last year. It is mid-June and already the purple saxifrage (Saxifraga oppositifolia) is past its peak and the mountain avens (Dryas integrifolia), arctic lousewort (Pedicularis arctica) and Pallas’ wallflower (Erysimum pallasii) amongst others are in flower. There is 1000m of elevation gain between our camp on the shores of Lake Hazen and the summit of McGill Mountain behind the camp. So at Lake Hazen I will be monitoring species at several different altitudes to see how they differ in the timing of their flowering and fruiting.

Arctic Lousewort (Pedicularis arctica) in flower 2 weeks earlier at Lake Hazen in 2014 than 2013

I only saw an arctic fox from a distance at Lake Hazen last year so I was excited to see an arctic fox up close this year. He eyed me from a distance for a while, hopped up to a high spot circled around like a dog does before laying down and then laid down. I approached him slowly and he seemed quite relaxed and enjoyed being photographed.

Arctic fox looking relaxed at Lake Hazen, June 2014

Arctic fox molting to summer coat at Lake Hazen, June 2014

The bird diversity at these northern latitudes is quite limited; only about 20 species can be seen here. I have already seen all the birds I saw here last year. So I was thrilled to see a species I have never seen before and has not been recorded at Lake Hazen. A pair of red phalaropes landed close to us in a small lake as we walked back to camp. Their plumage is quite stunning but they are really small birds.

Male red phalarope in breeding plumage - not recorded at Lake Hazen before

There is no internet or cell phone coverage at Lake Hazen or for 100s of miles around so this blog post arrives to you via a 4hr twin otter flight to Resolute and then emailed to Emma in Iqaluit for her to post! Robert at Parks Canada kindly acted as messenger when he flew out of Quttinirpaaq National Park.

The Last of the Ice

Emma Micalizzi

The last of the ice on the bay.

It’s July and Iqaluit is starting to show the signs of what I suppose an arctic summer is.  Intrinsically I have no feelings as to what season it is, but I think that I rely on cues that aren’t here to tell the season, like leaves on trees and warm evenings.  Some times when a cool wind blows and it’s been overcast for days, it feels like autumn is here and winter won’t be far behind (which may be more true than I’d like to admit).  But for the most part in the past couple weeks, temperatures have reached or passed 10 degrees.  The tundra has turned green, the bay has melted, and the bugs are out in numbers that are very alarming (my bug jacket has become my most valuable possession), so as far as I can tell that means it's summer.  Yesterday the temperatures went up to 16 degrees, which is the warmest day that we’ve had.  After being accustomed to the temperatures here, it felt hot and I managed to gather up the courage to go swimming in the Apex River.  The water was cold enough to make my muscles cramp up, but the swim was very refreshing. 

A tufted saxifrage (Saxifraga caespitosa) in bloom.

We have seen flowers on almost all of the species that we are monitoring, and the hills are dotted with yellows and pinks from Maydell's oxytrope (Oxytropis maydelliana) and arctic fireweed (Chamerion latifolium), among others.  Now that the colourful flowers are visible, we’re seeing that some species that we tirelessly hunted for a month ago, such as arctic harebell (Campanula uniflora), are growing everywhere!

Arctic bladder campion (Silene involucrata) blooming.

The summer weather has also meant that I have been able to attend some events held in Iqaluit, such as throat singing performances and demonstrations of the traditional Inuit lifestyle on Nunavut Day.  I have enjoyed learning a bit about Inuit culture, although I have yet to retain any Inuktitut.   

I'm also enjoying having people to go out with.  The apartments that I’m staying in have had other researchers here the whole time, and this has provided a unique experience and the opportunity to meet some interesting people, hear about their research, and make some friends.  I think that the rest of the summer is going to go quickly and be filled with memorable experiences.

A Wheatear guarding its nest.

The Colours of Summer

Emma Micalizzi

The days that have been three days away in the forecast since before we got here have finally arrived, and with them blue skies and temperatures above ten degrees.  It is a very welcome intermission after a long period of gray days with temperatures just above zero and rain, and before what is forecasted to be another week straight of rain.  I also figure that these couple days are among the nicest that we’ll have, as the mosquitoes have also appreciated the warmer weather.  They were out for the first time yesterday, but they must be drowsy from the long winter as they have landed on me without biting.  That being said, I’m sure it won’t be long until their blood-thirst kicks in.  

Some of the flowers we have passed walking between sites:  (top row) arctic poppy (Papaver sp.), alpine milk-vetch (Astragalus alpinus), red-tipped lousewort (Pedicularis flammea), (bottom row) Arnica (Arnica angustifolia), arctic thrift (Armeria scabra), and Labrador tea (Rhododendron lapponicum).

The (slowly) thawing Frobisher Bay.

The Sylvia Grinnell River flowing.  The white is not snow, but icebergs that have broken off and floated down from upstream.

The ice is starting to melt here.  Walking along the bay, you can smell the ocean and there is a continual thunder from the melting and collapsing of mountains of icebergs that have piled up over the winter.  Along the Sylvia Grinnell River, many large pieces of ice from upstream have washed down to an iceberg traffic jam at the mouth of the river.  There are very large icebergs that have been pushed tens of meters up from the shore.  The composition of these icebergs looks like many long, narrow shards glued together, and there is the occasional sound of breaking glass as the ice shatters apart.  The tundra is coming back to life at quite a pace as well; it was really noticeable this week.  Already we’ve seen many of our plants come into flower, as well as a colourful greeting on paths from flowers that we hadn’t expected to see for a while, such as poppies (Papaver sp.) and arctic bladder campions (Silene involucrata).  Zoe has sent word saying that flowers such as mountain avens (Dryas integrifolia) are also out at Lake Hazen.  It seems here that as each early bloomer finishes flowering, several more new species come into flower, and our walks between sites are getting more full of life every day.

Unfortunately in Iqaluit, the dump is still burning and the smoke can really fill some of the valleys where we work.  It truly puts a damper on the mood of enjoying the sun, fresh air, and flowers when your lungs are filling with burning plastics and chemicals.  We have borrowed some masks that were kindly lent to us, but I resent when I need to wear what’s essentially a gas mask to spend time outside (but it’s certainly better than without the mask!).  Fortunately the wind is in our favour sometimes, and other times we can pass over a ridge to duck out of the smoke.

An example of some of the interesting structures of the icebergs along the Sylvia Grinnell River.

Like the plants, Iqaluit appears to be coming alive with the warmer weather.  The summer solstice is this weekend, Alianait Arts Festival is next weekend, and then there’s Canada Day, followed by Nunavut Day.  This all means that there’s going to be lots going on in the next few weeks and I’m looking forward to getting to experience some of the local culture.  Every day, the tundra gets more alive and I think my life in Iqaluit is only going to get more colourful as the summer progresses.

Stranded in Resolute

Zoe and I are here in Resolute Bay, Nunavut

                                             

Panic struck this morning when my finger touched the bottom of my blistex jar and I realized that although I’m only a few days into this journey in the arctic desert I’ve already used up a good portion of my lip remedies. My skin is cracked and shrivelled much like the dehydrated food that remains packed away in our duffle bags. For the past three days, instead of setting up camp and digging into our space meals, we’ve been feasting on mountains of heavenly food, cooked by the very talented staff here at PCSP, as if it’s our last meal on Earth. Every overflowing plate (and subsequent food coma) is rationalized by the notion that it’s our last chance to fill our bellies before relinquishing civilization for two months. But, to our disappointment each morning (after yet another hefty breakfast) we are informed of the latest reason for delay: the cargo’s not here; the cargo’s still not here; oops, now there’s a blizzard at every stop to our destination. I fear if we are delayed any longer that by the time we make it to Lake Hazen we’ll be so plump and lethargic that we’ll make the perfect target for a hungry four-legged visitor. 

A Thule archaeological site outside of Resolute Bay 

Being marooned on an arctic island and being continuously stuffed with delicacies isn’t as tragic as it sounds. We’ve been fortunate to have seen a very handsome little arctic fox just outside the window, a Thule camp site complete with sleeping platforms and whale bone architecture, the vibrant downtown core of Resolute Bay (it’s actually the tiniest, quietest town ever; you could sprint across it in five bounds), and some moulds of evolutionary treasures (Tiktaalik and Puijila). I look forward to what tomorrow brings but sure hope that good weather, all the cargo we need and a functioning airplane are in the mix! 

Puijila skull mould (left) and Tiktaalik mould (right)

Impressions of Iqaluit

Emma Micalizzi

View of part of the town from a hill behind the hospital.

When I arrived in Iqaluit, my first impressions were that it wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be.  And for the first several days we were lulled into a false sense of security.  With the warm weather, I wore fewer and fewer layers until a day with gusts of wind up to 80 km an hour, followed by snow and freezing rain in the next several days, reminded me that we are still in the arctic.  The city of Iqaluit is sort of like the weather: it can be nice if you stand the right way.  The town is full of colourful, brightly painted houses sitting atop the frozen Frobisher Bay, with rolling, snowy blue hills in the distance.  But the dump is on fire and the noxious smoke seems to follow us wherever we go.  The city is also littered with garbage.  Walking to the field sites, we pass old couches, mattresses, broken down cars, coffee cups, dirty diapers, and pop cans.  Fortunately, there is a town clean-up next weekend that should help to get rid of some of the garbage (but hopefully not our plant tags!).

If you stop to look closely at any spot in the tundra, chances are that plants are growing there.  What looks like an infinite area of vast, empty space is actually full of life.  The plants here seem to ignore any bad weather and many species are already flowering, but at the cost of having the occasional coat of freezing rain.  The animals are also busy despite the weather. We’ve seen lemmings, bumblebees, and several birds. Zoe points out whenever we see a Lapland Longspur, Snow Bunting, or Wheatear, and I am learning that there are really very few songbirds here.  I am most fascinated by the ravens up here, however, which seem to have developed a complex vocabulary full of many distinct noises that sound unlike  anything I’ve ever heard before.

A perseverant snow buttercup (Ranunculus nivalis).

A willow (Salix sp.) catkin before and after being hit with freezing rain

 

I am enjoying the experience of being in Iqaluit, and I look forward to when the brown hills of the tundra become green and flowered.  Some of the views along the hikes to and within the sites are stunning - I am having a hard time believing that this is my summer job when it’s not far off from what I would be doing for fun.  I look forward to watching the plants green up, flower, and set fruit and I look forward to seeing what Iqaluit has to offer this summer.

The view along my "commute" - taken from Apex Trail