Spire 2024 Issue Archives - The Maine Journal of Conservation and Sustainability /spire/category/spire-2024-issue/ 91±¬ÁĎ Fri, 19 Apr 2024 20:53:12 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.8.5 Engaging Undergraduate Students in Local Stream Connectivity Issues by Measuring Environmental DNA from Anadromous Fish /spire/2024/04/18/kuhn/ /spire/2024/04/18/kuhn/#respond Thu, 18 Apr 2024 13:11:01 +0000 /spire/?p=4473 By Kendra Harmon-Bolding1, Abbigail Hreben1, and Jason Kuhn2,‡ 1 College of Science and Humanities, Husson University, Bangor ME 2 Assistant Professor of Chemistry, Husson University, Bangor ME ‡ Corresponding Author. Email: kuhnja@husson.edu. ORCid: https://orcid.org/0000-0002-0102-4448   Abstract Many species of North Atlantic anadromous fish have experienced severe population declines in the past several decades. One major […]

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]]> By Kendra Harmon-Bolding1, Abbigail Hreben1, and Jason Kuhn2,‡

1 College of Science and Humanities, Husson University, Bangor ME
2 Assistant Professor of Chemistry, Husson University, Bangor ME
‡ Corresponding Author. Email: kuhnja@husson.edu. ORCid: https://orcid.org/0000-0002-0102-4448
 

Abstract

Many species of North Atlantic anadromous fish have experienced severe population declines in the past several decades. One major cause of these declines is believed to be reduced access to spawning streams caused by dams and other impoundments. In Maine, efforts are underway to increase migratory species’ access to historic watersheds by removing barriers and improving fish passage, with the goal of revitalizing Atlantic salmon and other anadromous fish populations. The use of environmental DNA can enable researchers to measure species presence in bodies of water, providing a fast and powerful tool to monitor population changes over time. Here, a single-semester undergraduate project is described in which students track select species using environmental DNA analysis. Before applying these methods to natural waterways, students first validated eDNA procedures using water samples from hatchery tanks which contained high levels of eDNA from a target species. The goal of this project is for students to participate in ecological monitoring in order to increase their awareness of local conservation issues.

 

Atlantic Salmon: A Migratory Species In Decline

The Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) is a species of anadromous fish native to the North Atlantic. As anadromous fish, Atlantic salmon begin their lives in freshwater streams but spend most of their adult lives at sea. Adult Atlantic salmon can traverse hundreds of miles of river systems and ascend hundreds of feet in elevation in order to return to their natal streams to spawn during the autumn (Marschall 1998). Eggs are laid within constructed redds located in gravel streambeds, where the embryos incubate over winter before emerging in the spring as fry. These fry develop into parr over the next 2-4 years, then transition into seaward smolts in order to travel down the river system toward the ocean (Marschall 1998). At sea, adults mature for several years before returning to their natal freshwater streams to spawn, continuing the cycle of reproduction.

Salmon represent a key link between marine and freshwater systems, and are responsible for a massive transfer of marine nutrients into freshwater systems every year (Jonsson 2002). This nutrient influx has historically served as an important source of protein for animals and humans along riverine systems in North America where the range of Atlantic salmon rivers once extended from Quebec to Connecticut (Committee on Atlantic Salmon 2002). Like many of the 22 anadromous fish species in the North Atlantic, including the Alewife (Alosa pseudodharengus) and American shad (Alosa sapidissima), Atlantic salmon have suffered severe population declines over the past two centuries (Limburg 2009). In the United States, historic populations of Atlantic salmon include at least three distinct groups: the Long Island Sound population (extirpated in the early 19th century), the central New England population (extirpated in the mid 19th century), and the Gulf of Maine population, which is the only remaining population of wild Atlantic salmon in the United States (Committee on Atlantic Salmon 2002). Historically, this population likely produced 100,000 or more individuals per year; in recent years, however, the return of adult Atlantic salmon to spawn in Maine’s rivers has numbered in the hundreds or low thousands of individuals. In 2021, the Maine Department of Marine Resources reported a return of just 611 adults (Maine Department of Marine Resources 2022). Since 2000, the Gulf of Maine distinct population segment of Atlantic salmon have been listed as endangered under the Endangered Species Act (Committee on Atlantic Salmon 2002).     

 

Global Challenges And Opportunities For Atlantic Salmon In Maine

The broad decline of anadromous fish species in the North Atlantic can be attributed to a complex interplay of global factors, including increased marine mortality, poor water quality, pressures from invasive/nonnative and aquaculture species, and especially loss of spawning habitat. All of these pressures are additionally compounded by stresses engendered by climate change (Limburg 2009).       

One of the most significant threats to anadromous fish populations is caused by loss of spawning habitat, notably through the construction of dams, culverts, and other impoundments which disrupt river and stream connectivity. More than 1,000 known dams disrupt Maine’s waterways, with an unknown number of additional unregistered dams (American Society of Civil Engineers 2020). Dams adversely affect migratory fish species during both upstream and downstream passage; adverse effects include preventing or slowing fish passage, reducing water quality, altering local fish communities, and increasing direct and indirect mortality.

Dams pose significant barriers to anadromous fish migrating to spawning streams; without mechanisms to allow fish passage, dams can even sever species fully from upstream waters, such as the Medway Dam separating Atlantic salmon from the West Branch of the Penobscot River (Nieland 2020). Methods to allow fish passage include fish ladders, fish lifts, and trapping/ transporting individuals upstream. These methods have variable success for many migratory species, however, and even individuals that successfully navigate barriers can experience slower travel rates, with negative impacts on spawning success (Izzo 2016). Because each dam represents a unique barrier that invariably prevents passage for some individuals, the number of dams encountered, particularly on the main stem of a river as opposed to tributaries, has a high impact on the number of individuals that reach spawning streams. This is important because the majority of the highest quality salmon rearing habitat in terms of stream length and habitat quality lie toward the headwaters of streams, such as the East Branch of the Penobscot River (Fay 2006). As of 2024, in order to reach the East Branch of the Penobscot River, individuals must pass through no fewer than three dams [Milford at river kilometer (rkm) 63, West Enfield at rkm 101, and Weldon at rkm 149] while making use of a fish lift (rkm 63), vertical slot passage (rkm 101), and pool/weir passage (rkm 149) (Whittum 2022). Several studies have shown that Atlantic salmon migrating through dams on the Penobscot river with passage facilities demonstrate low cumulative passage efficiencies between 22 to 44% (Stevens 2018; Sigourney 2015).

In addition to posing formidable barriers to upstream passage, dams also increase direct and indirect mortality for adult salmon and smolts migrating downstream. Direct mortality events include injuries sustained due to passage through dam turbines or over fishways and bypasses. One study estimated a direct mortality to smolts migrating down the Penobscot of up to 9% per dam passed (Stevens 2018). Indirect mortality can result from passage delays, increased predation, and stress induced by moving through dams and reservoirs; stress can be compounded by alterations by dams to the properties and chemistry of local waters. By disrupting normal water flow, dams convert lotic systems into lentic systems, causing higher average temperatures and a concomitant lowering of dissolved oxygen in the reservoir system (Abbott 2022). Alterations in sediment and nutrient retention also impact water quality. The increase of lentic habitat can alter composition of fish communities and favor competing species such as largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides), which prey on migrating smolts (Bae 2018).

Because of the significant role dams play in disrupting river connectivity and fish migration, improving fish passage or even removing dams entirely can yield improvements in stream ecologies and rates of returns. The Penobscot River Restoration Project (PRRP) was an effort to improve fish passage and remove dams on the largest salmon-bearing river in Maine; as part of this project, the Great Works (rkm 60) and Veazie (rkm 48) dams on the main stem of the Penobscot River were breached and removed in 2012 and 2013, respectively (Izzo 2016). Prior to removal of these dams, passage of Atlantic salmon was variably poor (as low as 43% at Veazie and 12% at Great Works Dam, depending on conditions) (Izzo 2016). Additional work was completed to improve fish passage for migratory species such as Atlantic salmon, Alewives, Blueback herring, Sea lamprey (Petromyzon marinus), and American shad (Alosa sapidissima); this was achieved in-part by installing an upgraded fish lift at the dam in Milford in 2014, now the first dam encountered by individuals travelling up the Penobscot River (Izzo 2016). Follow-up studies have confirmed that Atlantic salmon are now able to pass the Veazie and Great Works Dam remnants without delays, increasing their rate of movements from the ocean to the base of the Milford Dam (Izzo 2016). Another important benefit of removing these dams is the increased accessibility to cooler streams, such as the Great Works Stream; cooler streams can serve as thermal refuges during summer months, thereby helping to lower temperature-induced stress (Izzo 2016). The effectiveness of improved fish passage on Atlantic salmon movements has been mixed, however, as tagging studies have shown that individuals reaching the Milford fish lift can experience extensive passage delays. Only 35% of individuals reaching the fish lift in 2015 met the goal of being passed within 48 hours, and between 30 to 40% of individuals took more than a week to pass (Izzo 2016). Because passage delays at the Milford fish lift significantly interfere with the transit of Atlantic salmon along the lower stretches of the Penobscot River, addressing and improving these delays will be a necessary component if population numbers in the Penobscot River system are to recover.    

 

Environmental DNA As An Emerging Tool For Species Monitoring 

In order to understand the impacts of recovery efforts on anadromous fish, reliable methods must exist to track population numbers for species of interest. Electrofishing and weir/dam counts can be used to measure returning Atlantic salmon, while redd counts can shed light on spawning productivity. These methods can prove costly, time-intensive, and require specialized skills, and in the case of electrofishing, can stress or even injure animals. Environmental DNA (eDNA) analysis has proven to be a rapid, non-invasive method that allows researchers to determine species presence and abundance in different aqueous environments (Schadewell 2021). In the context of anadromous fish, eDNA is produced when individuals shed cells and secrete mucous, feces, and other organic particulates while passing through a body of water. These biological remnants contain cell-associated or soluble eDNA fragments, which can be collected in water samples. Cell, organelle, and eDNA fragments are trapped by passing water samples through filters, after which eDNA is extracted using DNA purification protocols (Schadewell 2021). Extracted eDNA can be amplified using the polymerase chain-reaction (PCR) along with species-specific DNA primers. The PCR method works by replicating eDNA molecules over a series of “cycles,” such that the number of eDNA molecules approximately doubles each cycle. Species-specific DNA primers restrict amplification of eDNA molecules to amplify only fragments from a specific target species, such as Atlantic salmon. Because this method can incorporate as many as 40 or more PCR replication cycles, a small number of starting eDNA fragments from the target species can generate an enormous number of DNA molecules following PCR replication, with detection limits as low as 10 eDNA molecules per liter sampled (Furlan 2016). In a version of PCR called quantitative PCR (qPCR), the amount of replicated DNA can be quantified each PCR cycle by incorporating a fluorescence tag which emits a fluorescence signal when it binds to double-stranded DNA molecules. Therefore, as the number of species-specific DNA molecules increases each PCR cycle, a higher number of fluorescent tags bind the DNA and generate a stronger fluorescence signal, which can be detected and quantified.                           

The use of eDNA as a proxy for species presence is well established and has been demonstrated for a wide variety of both aquatic and terrestrial species, including both prokaryotes and eukaryotes (Schadewell 2021). Many studies have used qPCR to measure eDNA from anadromous fish species, including Atlantic salmon and alewives (Atkinson 2018 ; Bradley 2022). While measuring eDNA has proven a robust method for detecting species presence, correlating eDNA measurements to numbers of individuals has proven more challenging. A number of factors complicate directly correlating between eDNA measurements and species populations, including eDNA shedding rates, sampling location/frequency/volume, hydrodynamic flow rates, and eDNA degradation rates, among others (Yates 2023). In the case of degradation, eDNA is susceptible to varying degradation rates within lentic versus lotic environments, freshwater versus marine environments, and in a temperature and pH dependent manner. Additional factors, such as the state of eDNA (i.e., whether it is intracellular, intraorganellar, surface-bound, or soluble) as well as environmental microbial load can also affect degradation rates (Jo 2021). Currently, much work is being done to better understand how eDNA measurements correlate with population numbers under different environmental conditions.      

 

A One Semester Undergraduate Project to Engage Students in Local River Connectivity

Undergraduate classes that engage with environmental issues are correlated with increasing students’ pro-environmental attitudes and behaviors over the span of the class (Schmidt 2007 ; McMillan 2004). Further, this impact is amplified when classes focus on local environmental issues and incorporate student research experiences into the course’s design (Ascher 2018). In order to engage undergraduate students who are taking an upper-level Environmental Chemistry class in issues surrounding local water chemistry, stream connectivity, and migratory fish, a course-based research project was designed to be implemented over the span of one semester. This project uses eDNA as a readout for presence of anadromous fish species in various environments. Prior to sample collection, suitable sites were identified along the Penobscot River and its various tributary streams, including the Kenduskeag Stream near Bangor, Maine. The Penobscot River was chosen as a major focus along with several of its tributary streams because it is an easily-accessed, local river which contains the largest Atlantic salmon returns in the United States (with 1,310 adults counted at the Milford Dam fish lift in 2022) (Maine Department of Marine Resources 2022). Additionally, sampling sites along the Kenduskeag Stream were of particular interest because the Kenduskeag contains habitat suitable for Atlantic salmon spawning, and salmon redds have been sporadically detected in this stream as recently as 2019 (US Atlantic Salmon Assessment Committee 2020). Because individuals entering the Kenduskeag are not counted at the Milford Dam fish lift, samples collected from this body of water provide an ideal opportunity for students to explore the advantages and utility of eDNA detection in a novel context that warrants further study.

Numerous examples of eDNA extraction protocols exist in the literature; the protocol below was adapted from Atkinson et al. (2018). Briefly, one liter water samples are obtained at sampling sites and filtered using glass fiber filters with 1.5 micrometer pores. Distilled water samples are likewise filtered in order to serve as negative controls. Filters are stored at -20°C prior to DNA extraction. To extract eDNA trapped by the filters, filters are treated with cetyltrimethyl ammonium bromide (CTAB) extraction buffer containing 1 mg/mL Proteinase K and incubated for 2 hrs at 56°C. An equal volume of phenol/chloroform/isoamyl alcohol (25:25:1 v/v) is added, mixed, and centrifuged at 11,000 g for 20 minutes. The aqueous phase is then transferred into a new tube containing an equal volume of chloroform/isoamyl alcohol (24:1 v/v), mixed, and centrifuged again at 11,000 g for 20 minutes. The aqueous phase is again transferred into a new tube, and eDNA is precipitated by adding an equal volume of isopropanol to the aqueous phase, incubated at -20°C for 1 hour, then centrifuged at 20,000 g for 20 minutes. Pellets are washed with 70% ethanol and centrifuged for 5 minutes at 11,000 g. Ethanol is evaporated and pellets dried in a heating block for 5 minutes at 50°C before being resuspended in distilled water.  

For qPCR experiments, forward and reverse primers specific to Atlantic salmon were ordered from Integrated DNA Technologies (Fwd: CGC CCT AAG TCT CTT GAT TCG A ; Rev: CGT TAT AAA TTT GGT CAT CTC CCA GA) (Atkinson 2018).

For PCR reactions, 30 microliter reaction volumes are used containing the following components: 15 microliters of PowerUp SYBR Green MasterMix, 3 microliters of forward and reverse primers, 3 microliters of isolated eDNA, and 9 microliters of distilled water. To measure amplified, double-stranded DNA, a QuantStudio 3 qPCR (Thermo Fisher) is used to quantify SYBR Green fluorescence (λ abs = 497 nm, λ em = 520 nm) after each cycle. qPCR settings include a 2-minute warm-up at 50°C, 10 min at 95°C, followed by 40 cycles between 95°C for 15 s and 60°C for 1 min (Atkinson 2018). To analyze eDNA results, students compare threshold values for fluorescence signals from environmental samples against a standard curve generated from serial dilutions of Atlantic salmon tissue-derived eDNA.

Prior to collecting river samples, eDNA extraction and qPCR methods were validated using water samples collected from Atlantic salmon tanks at Craig Brook National Fish Hatchery in East Orland, Maine. Additionally, water samples were obtained from Alamoosook Lake, which is adjacent to the hatchery, since water from hatchery tanks is ultimately cycled back into the lake. Because hatchery tanks contain stocks of Atlantic salmon, students have the opportunity to test qPCR methods on water samples which are expected to contain high concentrations of Atlantic salmon eDNA; in contrast, samples from Alamoosook Lake were expected to contain significantly lower Atlantic salmon eDNA compared to tank water. To quantify the amount of Atlantic salmon eDNA from these two sources, samples containing DNA extracted from known concentrations of Atlantic salmon tissue (1:100 serial dilutions between 1×10-4 and 1×10-12 g tissue per liter) were quantified along with a blank control using qPCR.

 

Figure 1. (A) Fluorescence signal strength measured against qPCR cycle for DNA obtained from prepared Atlantic salmon tissue standards (1×10-12 to 1×10-4) along with a blank control (black curves). Additionally, samples obtained from hatchery tank water (green) and a nearby lake into which hatchery water is cycled (blue) are also shown. (B) Linear regression for qPCR cycle threshold versus the log of tissue concentration for Atlantic salmon tissue standards from which DNA was extracted.

Students generated qPCR curves which showed that qPCR fluorescence signals correlate with concentrations of tissue standards (Figure 1A); eDNA extracts from higher tissue concentrations were detected at earlier qPCR cycles due to higher initial levels of DNA in these samples. qPCR curves were also generated using eDNA extracted from hatchery tank samples as well as from nearby Alamoosook Lake. The qPCR cycle at which each fluorescence signal rises above baseline (cycle threshold) was plotted against the log of the starting tissue concentration to generate a standard curve using known tissue standards (Figure 1B). Using linear regression and cycle threshold values, students calculated Atlantic salmon tissue concentrations for both hatchery tank water and Alamoosook Lake water samples (Table 1), showing that Atlantic salmon tissue concentrations (ie, eDNA from cells, waste, and other debris) were approximately 105 higher in hatchery tanks compared to the nearby lake.

Table 1. Cycle threshold values and calculated tissue concentrations (g/L) for water samples obtained from an Atlantic salmon hatchery tank as well as a nearby lake. Cycle threshold shows the qPCR cycle at which a sample’s fluorescence signal first rises above baseline fluorescence.

These results show that the eDNA extraction methods and qPCR protocols are able to detect and quantify Atlantic salmon DNA from prepared tissue standards as well as samples obtained from hatchery tanks and a nearby lake. Following validation of methods using controlled samples, students next apply these methods to measure eDNA at different locations within the Penobscot River watershed, in which species presence and eDNA levels are expected to be more variable compared to hatchery samples.   

 

Conclusion

The wide decline that many North Atlantic anadromous fish species have experienced over the last several decades illustrates the substantial impact humans have had on aquatic ecology. Several species that have suffered declines, such as Atlantic salmon, have historically played important ecological and cultural roles in the watersheds in which they return to spawn. One key driver of declining populations has been the loss of spawning habitat, which is especially driven by the disruption to river connectivity engendered by dams, culverts, and other impoundments. These disruptions can restrict or even sever anadromous fish from accessing the freshwater streams they need to spawn, with corresponding negative effects on reproduction. Encouragingly, efforts are underway in the United States and other countries to improve access to spawning habitat for Atlantic salmon and other anadromous species, such as through upgrading fish passage and removing dams, culverts, and other impoundments. The benefits of these efforts can be seen with returning anadromous species in watersheds such as the Penobscot River, where two dams, the Great Works Dam and the Veazie Dam, were removed in 2012 and 2013. Despite these improvements, many challenges still face Atlantic salmon and other anadromous fish species, and future recovery of populations will depend in part on continuing to improve access to spawning habitat. Engaging the public on issues of conservation is therefore an important component of future progress. To this end, a project suitable for a one-semester undergraduate class was designed. Using eDNA as a measure for species presence, students validated methods using hatchery water samples that contained high levels of Atlantic salmon eDNA; by comparing qPCR cycle threshold values for water samples against known tissue standards, students were able to determine tissue concentrations within hatchery tanks and Alamoosook Lake. After methods validation, students then apply these techniques to measure and map target species such as Atlantic salmon in poorly-characterized, local bodies of water. This project provides students with experience working with eDNA, which is an increasingly-valuable tool used in ecological monitoring and environmental sampling. Additionally, the project allows students to directly participate in local conservation issues and explore questions concerning stream connectivity and ecological health.               

 

References

Abbott, K., Zaidel, P., Roy, A., Houle, K., Nislow, K. (2022) Investigating impacts of small dams and dam removal on dissolved oxygen in streams. PLoS ONE 17(11): e0277647.

Ascher, W. (2018) Safeguarding the enthusiasm for environmental studies: small is even more beautiful than before. Journal of Environmental Studies and Sciences, Springer; Association of Environmental Studies and Sciences, 8(1), 104-109.

Atkinson, S., Carlsson, J., Ball, B., Egan, D., Kelly-Quinn, M., Whelan, K., Carlsson, J. (2018). A quantitative PCR-based environmental DNA assay for detecting Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar L.) Aquatic Conservation: Marine Freshwater Ecosystems; 28: 1238-1243.

Bae, M., Murphy, C., Garcia-Berthou, E. (2018) Temperature and hydrologic alteration predict the spread of invasive Largemouth Bass (Micropterus salmoides). Science of The Total Environment, Volume 639, 2018, Pages 58-66, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.scitotenv.2018.05.001.

Bradley, D., Morey, K., Bourque, D., Fost, B., Loeza-Quintana, T., Hanner, R. (2022). Environmental DNA detection and abundance estimates comparable to conventional methods for three freshwater larval species at a power plant discharge. Environmental DNA, 4, 700–714. https://doi.org/10.1002/edn3.286

Committee on Atlantic Salmon in Maine, Board on Environmental Studies and Toxicology, Ocean Studies Board, National Research Council. (2002) Genetic Status of Atlantic Salmon in Maine: Interim Report. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK223890/pdf/Bookshelf_NBK223890.pdf

Fay, C., Bartron, M., Craig, S., Hecht, A., Pruden, J., Saunders, R., Sheehan, T., Trial, J. (2006) Status review for anadromous Atlantic Salmon (Salmo salar) in the United States. Report to the National Marine Fisheries Service, Silver Spring, Maryland and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Falls Church, Virginia. https://repository.library.noaa.gov/view/noaa/4550

Furlan E., Gleeson D., Hardy C., Duncan R. (2016) A framework for estimating the sensitivity of eDNA surveys. Mol Ecol Resour. 16(3):641-654.

Izzo, L., Maynard, G., Zydlewski, J. (2016) Upstream movements of Atlantic salmon in the lower Penobscot river, Maine following two dam removals and fish passage modifications, Marine and Coastal Fisheries, 8:1, 448-461. 

Jo T, Minamoto T. (2021) Complex interactions between environmental DNA (eDNA) state and water chemistries on eDNA persistence suggested by meta-analyses. Mol Ecol Resour. 2021; 21(5).

Jonsson, B., Jonsson, N. (2002) Migratory Atlantic salmon as vectors for the transfer of energy and nutrients between freshwater and marine environments. Freshwater Biology, Volume48, Issue 1, Pages 21-27.

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Limburg, K., Waldman, J. (2009) Dramatic declines in North Atlantic diadromous fishes. BioScience, Vol. 59 No. 11.

Maine Department of Marine Resources. (2022) Historical Trap Counts. https://www.maine.gov/dmr/sites/maine.gov.dmr/files/inline-files/Trap%20Count%20Archive%202022.pdf

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McMillan, E., Wright, T., Beazley, K. (2004) Impact of a University-Level Environmental Studies Class on Students’ Values, The Journal of Environmental Education, 35:3, 19-27, DOI: 10.3200/JOEE.35.3.19-27

Nieland, J., Sheehan, T. (2020) Quantifying the Effects of Dams on Atlantic Salmon in the Penobscot River Watershed, with a Focus on Weldon Dam. Northeast Fisheries Science Center Reference Document 19-16.

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Stevens, J., Kocik, J., Sheehan, T. (2019). Modeling the impacts of dams and stocking practices on an endangered Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar) population in the Penobscot river, Maine, USA. Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences, 76: 1795-1807.  

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Whittum, K., Zydlewski, J., Coghlan Jr, S., Hayes, D., Watson, J., Kiraly, I. (2022) Fish assemblages in the Penobscot river: A decade after dam removal. Marine and Coastal Fisheries: Dynamics, Management, and Ecosystem Science, 15:e10227.

Yates, M., Furlan, E., Thalinger, B., Yamanaka, H., Bernatchez, L. (2023) Beyond species detection—leveraging environmental DNA and environmental RNA to push beyond presence/absence applications. Environmental DNA; 5:829-835.

 

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]]> /spire/2024/04/18/kuhn/feed/ 0 A Letter from the Editor /spire/2024/04/10/editor-2024/ /spire/2024/04/10/editor-2024/#respond Wed, 10 Apr 2024 15:27:57 +0000 /spire/?p=4432 Cora Saddler  M.A. Candidate, English  91±¬ÁĎ Welcome to Spire’s eighth issue! We are ecstatic to announce Caitlyn Dauphinee as the winner of this year’s cover design contest. Her brightly colored collage, “The Lakeside Local”, is interspersed with whimsical texture and shape and acts as a gentle reminder of the playfulness of the natural […]

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]]> Cora Saddler 

M.A. Candidate, English 
91±¬ÁĎ

Welcome to Spire’s eighth issue! We are ecstatic to announce Caitlyn Dauphinee as the winner of this year’s cover design contest. Her brightly colored collage, “The Lakeside Local”, is interspersed with whimsical texture and shape and acts as a gentle reminder of the playfulness of the natural world. Whether that be the soft slopes of snow sliding down the mountain side or a certain lakeside local playing hide and seek in the foliage, this year’s cover embodies the joy of nature and its simple pleasures. This issue, whose submissions range across many different fields and forms, highlight this community’s emotional and intellectual appreciation for the wonders of Maine and the flora and fauna within it. Carefully crafted by Mainers new and old, each poem, art, photo, and essay demonstrates a great sentiment for the beauty of Maine and becomes, in its own way, a collective call for its continued conservation and sustainability for years to come. 

This issue is a collection of reflections, filled with the insights of individuals grappling with their experiences in a world that gives as much as it teaches. Eddie Nachamie’s “Reflections from a Season in the North Woods” reckons with the lessons of solitude, care, perseverance, discipline, awareness, and joy that one summer in the woods can teach. Olivia Box’s “Imposter Forestry” explores similar themes in its attention to the “natural gift of the wild,” exploring the sights and sounds of awe that echo through the forest, if only the stewards of it will listen. Sara Delaney’s “I Can Be a Dop” compels us to consider the rippling effect a single drop can make, while Alice Hotopp, Bailey McLaughlin, Hannah Mittelstaedt, and Melanie Prentice’s collection of unconventional, scientific “A˛ú˛őłŮ°ů˛ął¦łŮ(˛ő)” asks us to reconsider what research can teach us about the natural world and, ultimately, ourselves. From the Stillwater River to Plummer Point, from the smallest hermit crab to a flock of birds, our authors call on us to find and protect the pulse of the future that has inspired all the work you will see here. 

Of course, the release of our journal wouldn’t be possible without the help of our dedicated editorial team. A special thanks is given to our editors—Aaron Thibodeau, Catherine Mardosa, Erin Victor, Gladys Adu Asieduwaa, Harrison Goldspiel, HermĂ©s Diou-Cass, Jessica Wibby, Kaleigh Kogler, Karina Cortijo-Robles, Kathleen Spear, Mania Mohseni, Michelle Hoeckel-Neal, Sara Delaney, and Val Watson—for all the time and insight they contributed from the very start of last August. You have my deepest appreciation for making my first time as Editor-in-Chief seamless, and I am astonished by not only your generosity but your genuine passion and enthusiasm for this journal and the pieces you read. Each author should know that every piece received much care from our editors, who are committed to the excellence of this journal and to its cause. Additional thanks is also given to our faculty director, Dr. Dan Dixon, and Spire’s co-editor-in-chief, Clinton Spaulding, for their ongoing support, kindness, and guidance during the publication process. Thank you for trusting me with the journal, and for all the work you do to ensure its continued success. Cheers to Spire and its many future editions. 

Happy Reading,

Cora Saddler 
Editor in Chief

 

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]]> /spire/2024/04/10/editor-2024/feed/ 0 The Lakeside Local /spire/2024/04/09/dauphinee/ /spire/2024/04/09/dauphinee/#respond Tue, 09 Apr 2024 13:42:18 +0000 /spire/?p=4425 By Caitlyn Dauphinee     Artist Statement As an artist, I have always struggled to find my niche. My brain feels like I have to choose and master one form or style of art, while my heart wants to dabble in creative pursuits of every kind. I primarily use graphite and realism in my art, […]

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]]> By Caitlyn Dauphinee

 

 

Artist Statement

As an artist, I have always struggled to find my niche. My brain feels like I have to choose and master one form or style of art, while my heart wants to dabble in creative pursuits of every kind. I primarily use graphite and realism in my art, but I have also tried my hand at oil painting, sculpting, ink pointillism, and anything else I can get my hands on.

Though realism is my comfort zone, this piece is my venture into somewhat of a more impressionistic and colorful style. My goal was to create a piece inspired by Eric Carle’s collage work. I enjoyed finding colors and textures that worked together to form the final piece. This is definitely something I would like to try again.

 

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]]> /spire/2024/04/09/dauphinee/feed/ 0 Abstract(s) /spire/2024/04/05/abstracts/ /spire/2024/04/05/abstracts/#respond Fri, 05 Apr 2024 18:38:56 +0000 /spire/?p=4315 By Alice M. Hotopp, Bailey P. McLaughlin, Hannah N. Mittelstaedt, Melanie B. Prentice   Scientific writing aims to stand objectively – to distance the ecologist from the ecology. Here we begin with, and then break from, the standard format of a scientific Abstract (the brief summary of a research paper). As students and practitioners of […]

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]]> By Alice M. Hotopp, Bailey P. McLaughlin, Hannah N. Mittelstaedt, Melanie B. Prentice

 

Scientific writing aims to stand objectively – to distance the ecologist from the ecology. Here we begin with, and then break from, the standard format of a scientific Abstract (the brief summary of a research paper). As students and practitioners of ecology, we shed the norms of scientific writing to more expansively explore what our research teaches us about connections between the natural world and ourselves.

 

Microscopic 

Microorganism communities can shape host phenotype evolution but are often comprised of thousands of taxa with varied impacts on hosts. Identification of taxa influencing host evolution relies on first describing the wondrous diversity of the microbial world. Relies on first understanding that bodies – our bodies – are ecosystems. That our skin, hair, teeth, fingernails, belly buttons, and eyelashes are habitats, niches, and homes. That we are bacteria dividing and dying and metabolizing and colonizing and growing. That we are generations and cycles and revolutions of life and death. That we too, to some distant eye, are microscopic.

-A. M. Hotopp

 

Deeper Shallows 

The opalescent nudibranch (Hermissenda crassicornis) is a small gastropod found within the temperate intertidal zone along the West Coast of North America. Like all sea slugs in their clade, they possess finger-like projections along their backs, called cerata, used for respiration. They are neither rare nor readily abundant throughout their range. Unassumingly roving the shallows. Yet, within this temperate climate they are a flash of color. Blue and orange racing stripes run down their bodies otherwise covered in a blaze of orange flames. A delegate from the tropics. Or so it seems. Indeed, these vibrant creatures thrive in these cold waters. Beneath a dock, in rock pools, peeking out during low tide. To the observer keen enough to notice, they are harmless, delicate, luminous beauties. Yet they protect themselves fiercely. They sequester nematocysts, stinging cells, from their anemone prey and save them in their Day-Glo appendages for later use. Deploying their defense when threatened by a predator. Or when scooped from their habitat by a professor. Or when placed in a petri dish, and peered at through a microscope. Or when affronted by a student who is convinced they were mail-ordered from a warm coral reef for lab-demonstration purposes. Not plucked from the icy waters she’s visited her whole life, never knowing such alien beauty was waiting to be noticed. She is transfixed and will be from this point on. Keeping her eyes peeled at every low tide, searching every steel gray tidepool for these fiery slugs now that she knows what she’s looking for.

-H. N. Mittelstaedt

 

Flight 

The size, shape, and coloration of a single feather can reflect the many selection pressures experienced by birds. For example, body contour feathers, the non-flight feathers that cover bird bodies, serve diverse functions, including waterproofing, protection from UV radiation, microbial defense, thermoregulation, sexual signaling, camouflage, communication, and inspiring awe. Have you ever looked at a feather? I mean, really looked at a feather? Did you gasp at its exponential branching? At its screams of color and pattern? At how it felt like a soft breeze on your skin? Imagine your body enveloped in its own feathered cloak. Sleek, shining in the sunlight. Would it feel like flying, to grow something so beautiful?

–A. M. Hotopp

 

Boundary  

Meta-ecosystem theory describes how the transfer of material subsidies across ecosystem boundaries affects ecosystem processes and food webs. At the land-sea interface, seaweed acts as a conduit, carrying the nutrients of the ocean upland to the starving beach and well-sated saltmarsh. A host of insects, crustaceans, worms, and creepy crawlies rejoice in these deposits as lifegiving manna in one location, and an embarrassment of riches in the other. Yet are these differences and boundaries so stark? Beach, marsh, seaweed bed, either awash in seawater or sunbaked in alteration. Nutrients swirl between, through, in, out, beyond. A bird may pluck a snack from each. Yet the sparrow nests only in the lush grasses of the marsh, the amphipods hop more abundantly between sand and stranded seaweed in the other. The researcher takes samples of oozing, putrid piles of seaweed from each. Taking her measurements, swatting mosquitoes. Asking herself how such a tidy theory led her to wonder about which ecosystem welcomes this mess of half-rotten, storm-cast seaweed more. Asking how a circuitous idea showed her the simple truth. How waves move across ecosystem boundaries that were never there at all.

-H. N. Mittelstaedt

 

Some Like it Hot

Describing the role of climate as a biogeographic control on species’ distributions has a long history in the ecological literature and is particularly relevant for accurately defining a species’ ecological niche. As it turns out (and as I’m sure you can relate, reader), finding your niche isn’t always easy. Imagine trying to find someone, or something, else’s. For this, we ecologists should, I suppose, be grateful. The endeavor keeps us employed. A man named Hutchinson had a hunch-inson about how the ecological niche might be structured, in two parts. For a given species, a maple tree for example, the realized ecological niche represents those climate conditions in which the species can and does survive. The fundamental ecological niche, on the other hand, represents those climate conditions in which the species could survive but which are not actively experienced by that species because of dispersal barriers or interactions with competitors or predators that limit its distribution. The realized niche is readily knowable. The fundamental niche is not, usually. And yet, the fundamental niche is, *eh-hem*, fundamental to understanding the breadth of conditions that a species can truly tolerate. As we look towards a future of global change and warming, this becomes essential. Some like it hot. Surely. But probably not too hot. And deciphering what exactly “too hot” is, is what might safeguard species. 

-B. P. McLaughlin

 

Waste

In the past decade, sea star wasting disease (SSWD) has been responsible for the loss of billions of sea stars across 20 species, primarily along the Pacific Coast of North America. The result has been trophic cascades and the loss of ecosystems supporting diverse marine communities. While we increasingly understand its impacts, we forget our role, our contributions, ourselves. You see, we came to this place, and we changed it. Not you or me, but us. We dumped, drained, dug, spilled and took. Man, we took a lot. Man took a lot. We left and returned, at our own convenience, and how perfectly convenient it was. But we never returned empty-handed. We brought back some of our favorite things: oil, gas, minerals, and let them spill across the surface. And in return, dropped the toys we’d tired of down to the depths – Beanie Babies, BlackBerries, bottles of Banana Boat and Bud Light. Let that sink in. We brought others too. Some just tiny passengers, pathogens. Hitchhikers we picked up at another time and place. Out of sight, out of mind. We left them behind to take up residence in a space they don’t belong. And now it’s sick: a feverish, acidic, watery brine. Its inhabitants wasting away, while we waste time, wondering just how things could have turned out this way.

-M. B. Prentice

 

Trees as They Walk Through Time 

North American tree species have shifted the position of their geographic ranges an average of 50 km over recent decades. These observed shifts occur in all cardinal directions, failing to conform to conventional expectations of uniform poleward-moving migrations, thought to be instigated by a warming world. We know this because we observe juvenile trees moving away from their parents, the adults. Peering through their young branches, a picture of tomorrow comes into focus. Those that have not conceded to the future, seed the future. Adults encourage their offspring to march on, march along. Through the fruits of their labor. Freed from the flesh, seeds float through the air, glide through the water, sail through the gut of an animal. Land. On the land. In a place of permanence. With conditions they can tolerate. This is how a stationary species migrates, as a new generation. A collective that will grow. A future unfolding. The trees, they’ve done this before. When the world changed then. We’ve found clues of their footsteps past. Microscopic, clandestine clues. Pollen pressed into the sediment, they show us where they’ve been. Granules sealed underground, buried in the muck, compressed by the weight of the world. They wait for the world. To warm, or cool. It’s hard to say. Conditioned on conditions that we’re still trying to work out. Yet, somehow, it’s maybe already too late. For some. For others, they’ll maybe run, flourish across the landscape. We’re not sure, but the trees will tell us, show us, in time. And we can retrace. Because of the clues they’ve left us, about how they’ve walked. About where they’ve been, about where they might be going next. 

-B. P. McLaughlin

 

Practice

The introduction of the European starling (Sturnus vulgaris) to North America has led to agricultural damage, the spread of infectious disease, and impacts to native cavity-nesting birds. European starlings, named one of the “100 World’s Worst” invasive species, are who I will practice loving today. To practice loving starlings, there are things I need to relearn. Fascination with iridescence. Close attention to soft warbling. Enchantment with murmuration. There are things I need to unlearn. Non-native. Invasive. Pest. The boxes separating those deserving to live from those deserving to die. I am learning to ask who is non-native and who is invasive, the starlings, or those who released them?  I am learning to ask what else were the birds to do when uncaged that day in 1890, but take flight over Central Park? What else but survive and flock together, shine like stars? Today, as I practice loving starlings, there are things I am relearning. Things I am unlearning.

-A. M. Hotopp

 

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]]> /spire/2024/04/05/abstracts/feed/ 0 Poetry Series: From the Riverbed; The Sculptors /spire/2024/04/05/rinehart/ /spire/2024/04/05/rinehart/#respond Fri, 05 Apr 2024 18:34:43 +0000 /spire/?p=4221 By Emerson Rinehart   From the Riverbed If you did not hear me Crying out against time, Come to this shady stream side. If you never saw me Throw sand against wind, Stand by this mound of stone. And if you never found me Fighting my one barren battle, Reach and pick fruit from my […]

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]]> By Emerson Rinehart

 

From the Riverbed

If you did not hear me
Crying out against time,
Come to this shady stream side.

If you never saw me
Throw sand against wind,
Stand by this mound of stone.

And if you never found me
Fighting my one barren battle,
Reach and pick fruit from my tree.

In this kind curse you are given,
Over lands still paled by our scars,

Hear the passion that ceaselessly screams.
Find rebellious fire
In the hearth of desire
And the song to lull you to sleep.

Still know all the while
That their words are but whispers;

Murmurs of stones
Plucked and returned
To the riverbed.

 

The Sculptors

The ones who mold the forest
Hide in cool shaded brooks,
And under rich humus blankets.

Mute creatures of patience
Leave the dead where they lay,
And with enduring alchemy transmute.

The unending shift
Of this to that,
Of one to another.

 

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]]> /spire/2024/04/05/rinehart/feed/ 0 Art Series: Plummer Point Landscape; Maine Mushrooms /spire/2024/04/05/baldwin/ /spire/2024/04/05/baldwin/#respond Fri, 05 Apr 2024 18:34:42 +0000 /spire/?p=4273 By Claire Loon Baldwin   Plummer Point Landscape  Artist Statement A view of Plummer Point from Feldspar Point, painted with watercolor, gouache, and ink. I created this piece while working for Coastal Rivers Conservation Trust as a Communications and Membership Manager. In 2022, they led a campaign to acquire the Tip of Plummer Point, and […]

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]]> By Claire Loon Baldwin

 

Plummer Point Landscape 

Artist Statement

A view of Plummer Point from Feldspar Point, painted with watercolor, gouache, and ink. I created this piece while working for Coastal Rivers Conservation Trust as a Communications and Membership Manager. In 2022, they led a campaign to acquire the Tip of Plummer Point, and this illustration was used as a gratitude card for donors. Plummer Point is an ecologically rich location on the Damariscotta River by Seal Cove, and is a popular destination for viewing birds and seals. On the autumn day that I explored it to gather reference photos, the fiery foliage contrasted beautifully with the jade-colored water.  

 

Maine Mushrooms

Artist Statement

A color wheel of mushrooms, lichen, and flowers, foraged on the Harpswell Peninsula in Maine, painted with watercolor and ink. While 2021 was an unusually warm and dry year in Maine, by autumn, cooler temperatures and rain brought a burst of mushrooms and color back to the woods. It was my first autumn living in Maine, and I was floored by the biodiverse beauty of forests so close to my home. While many of the nature preserves in Maine are pocket-sized, they are invaluable for keeping ecosystems intact. I gathered specimens that I felt were aesthetically related, even if ecologically they varied quite a bit. The species, going clockwise from the purple mushroom, are: Blewit (Collybia nuda), a little brown mushroom that is beyond my ability to identify, Common Green shield lichen (Flavoparmelia caperata), Golden Fairy Spindle (Clavulinopsis fusiformis), Golden Waxcap  (Hygrocybe chlorophana), Orange Waxcap (Hygrocybe aurantiosplendens) Scarlet Waxcap (Hygrocybe coccinea), the Sickener (Russula emetica), and a flower called Ghost Pipe (Monotropa uniflora).

 

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]]> /spire/2024/04/05/baldwin/feed/ 0 Poetry Series: Stillwater River; Child of the Leaves /spire/2024/04/05/gardner-2/ /spire/2024/04/05/gardner-2/#respond Fri, 05 Apr 2024 18:34:41 +0000 /spire/?p=4293 By Chris Gardner   Artist Statement Both of these poems were written in co-respondence with the natural environment of Maine. I attempted through them to capture the ways in which time spent in communion with nature, whether that be walking along the Stillwater River as it touches the 91±¬ÁĎ campus, or meandering through the close […]

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]]> By Chris Gardner

 

Artist Statement

Both of these poems were written in co-respondence with the natural environment of Maine. I attempted through them to capture the ways in which time spent in communion with nature, whether that be walking along the Stillwater River as it touches the 91±¬ÁĎ campus, or meandering through the close pines in the Bangor City Forest, or any other of the myriad ways to encounter the rich natural treasures of our state. Doing so has allowed me to center myself in the presence of what is, rather than be lost in mental abstractions. Ironically, the mental abstraction of the poem “Stillwater River” is meant to capture this process, while “CHILD OF THE LEAVES” is an attempt to personify that moment of encounter and the subsequent amelioration through the healing power of communion with nature. None of these encounters are possible without carefully stewarded public lands that are preserved for their own sake as living ecosystems. The dialogue I am attempting to generate here is between the reader and the encounter with natural space, and ideally will engender in them a respect for and understanding of what wild spaces can provide beyond material, economic benefits.

 

Stillwater River 

I’m looking out now

I’m trying not to 

      look in  

                  at the Stillwater silhouette 

                            still water

                     just still 

         listening to Canadian geese too late who

have missed their moment and wait for it

                                                      to come back 

 

but please do any of us know?

each snowflake really is

                                        almost perfectly unique

                                                                                    that’s real

                                                                                               no sudden phenomenon but 

                                                                                              realization I could almost sense it

if I had any sense 

I’d look at all the snowflakes 

                                                  catching in my knotted hair

and go raving naked lunatic at last

                                                  if it wasn’t for the W-2’s 

                                              and in them the second world war

but even I

              a poor blind sinner mother 

              am almost perfect

        for all is as the waves wills it

and will be so again 

                                  right Pablo?

we are winning we’re alive

(Neruda

            O’ Hara

                     Korea

                        Bermuda)

                                         ooh I wanna take ya

                                                                           down 

                                                                       to the riverside 

                                                                       to baptize 

                                                                        in the still ice 

                                                                        in full view of the jury 

                                                                                            of Canadian geese

and hold you under just

a second too long so you wonder, is this all there really is?

but of course it isn’t because beneath us all beneath the crystalline structures of dirty plow snow and ice that almost killed me so close to home is the first

                                                                                         the very first 

                                                                                          THE blade of grass

which will arise again in the spring 

and no one will see 

                              making it

                                                almost perfect

                                                                           as it nestles into life between the steam factory 

and the still water river 

                                     where the fairies manufacture what? Steam?

YES it billows up to god like 

                                                a funeral pyre or unheard whisper and tickles his nose oh no

He’s allergic!

                       back to the Frankenstein 

                                        and the myrrh 

and so the smoke goes blows quietly 

                                         forgotten save for the moment

the light catches it

                              just right like the golden hour reflected in the brown of your irises and makes them golden just like it

                                              it’s almost perfect

                                just like me

                                                    or you

                                                                   or anyone!

caught but for the moment in amber superstructures 

pushed into the snowbank between (can I make a deposit?)

                                           me and river 

                                                        you and the river 

                                                                      we and the river

when it melts                                                 we are the river 

                                        it will be 

                                                                       almost perfect

and in that way the most poetic 

                                        in the Japanese sense. 

 

Child of the Leaves

Standing in the kitchen 

                  sucking in my gut

                       feeling overwhelmed and underripe

slipping in slick sounds

    falling 

              in puddles of undone dishes

                                                            and conversation—rent is due

When a cold creeping word slips

                                                       soft through the window pain

                                                                                  whispers of the cold fire

                                                                                                   and the great dying done 

right outside the window, Look

                                                      to trees of crimson and gold

                                                        and awareness awakened 

                                         

                                          LOOK at them

 

                                           just once

 

the bombardier trees loosing a fiery load 

each bomb precious

crashing quiet against the exploding voices 

in the kitchen

 

                         an electric cobweb of words cut clean through 

                                                                                                   by words beyond words

                                                                                                                    nature beyond nature 

by the old voice of one beyond time and kitchens

 

calling me, calling ME 

 

                                          to slide out of the kitchen skin and into something

                                                                                                                         else, 

And I do––  I leave. 

                              That’s all I do.

                                                             That’s not true (I grab the gun) because it’s dangerous to go                                                                                                                                                                 alone

                   and I am no noble 

                                  nor knight nor seer of high visions

                   but I      know there’s more to life

 than meets the I

                                 and the eye knows this. 

                                                                      Sometimes shadows slink and slither 

                                                                                        in ways wavering and unmoored

                                                                     from the cold drab concrete slab 

sometimes a creature black and grim 

too tall too wild              too like me

                                         can be seen in the mind’s eye

                                         and increasingly I think

                                                               I see his visage in my mind  

                                          

 

Now, I break

                     branches that block and point 

                                                                        the way

Living shaking trees 

                                     with breaks too high for the hand of man

 Yes!

                                                                                                                    a very god

 a Forest God!

          with the answer to it all: 

                                                      the forest groves, the pressure machine,

                                                                                  the pressure behind my eyes

                                                                                                                          and what it all means

about me. 

 

Snapping twigs 

                          and cracking bones

                                 carving through leaves long burnt

                                                                  

                                                                        I fall

 

                                                                  rise bloodied and bruised

                      a pilgrim

   and I must speak my peace to the deep 

                                                to the dark heart of the north woods

where silence is full

and sounds long and cold

                         bone cold

                                             that never quite goes away

 

There the trees sing

                         short sharp barks 

                                                          of ash on elm

          the wind applauds 

                                         through needled pines

                           

                                                  There I saw shapes shift

                                               and turn

                                  too human–no, more

                                                              and a not-wind whispered a not-language

and I thought, are they?

                        are they looking for me my family?

                                                                 Them?

                                                                      Am I?

                                                                am I

 

                                                                                am i

 

                                      at last

                                                        I am 

 

                                             face to awful face

 

                         with the great creature at the heart

                   too tall                too wild             too human 

                             hair all over, crimson and gold

 

                                      it spoke to me 

                                          in a voice of thunder

                                                             running rivers

                                                              and growing moss

                                                                                                the voice heard at the back of dreams 

 

FWAAHRUUWAARAASHEEEEE

 

                                                                CREEEWHOOOWEEEDOSHOOOOO

and my frozen gun hand raises

slowly as the sun and points

amidst the always dying,

                                                 the drifting leaves

and the slow burn

                                                      and the quiet moment lasting eons of ageless time

 

                    

                  at last it raises a clay-thick hand

                                                                                     and takes the cold metal from my cracked skin

          

                offering the gun to the whispering pinewoods

                                                                                            as does a cat with a bird in its teeth—

         the trees, gracious parents, take

                                                             their spindly needle fingers unspin screws 

and the metal stands transformed,

                                                        and drops to the ground a perfect-shaped pinecone.

                            

 

all questions gone from me, I stagger punch-drunk as a stupid boxer into the too-long arms

 

      it smells like mold and soil, rot, and manure,

                                                                                   everything that dies to grow

                                                                                                      and grows to die

           

 my tears trickle into its mossy hair, and tiny leaves sprout up where they meet 

                                   sprout and grow, spread and leave 

                                                                                           and crimson and auburn weaves a way through me

                                      i can hear in his voice of thunder

                                                                               running rivers

                                                                                and growing moss

 

                                     â€śBE AT PEACE CHILD OF THE LEAVES”

 

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]]> /spire/2024/04/05/gardner-2/feed/ 0 I Can Be a Drop /spire/2024/04/05/delaney/ /spire/2024/04/05/delaney/#respond Fri, 05 Apr 2024 18:34:40 +0000 /spire/?p=4290 By Sara Delaney   “Water drops on Pemadumcook Lake in the morning, August 2023.”   I Can Be a Drop  The rain came down heavy during the night, a comforting sound on the roof.  We were sleeping at a friend’s “camp” – up in the north of Maine, Millinocket.  It was quiet there, peaceful. The […]

The post I Can Be a Drop appeared first on The Maine Journal of Conservation and Sustainability.

]]> By Sara Delaney

 

“Water drops on Pemadumcook Lake in the morning, August 2023.”

 

I Can Be a Drop 

The rain came down heavy during the night, a comforting sound on the roof. 

We were sleeping at a friend’s “camp” – up in the north of Maine, Millinocket. 

It was quiet there, peaceful. The little houses were right on the lakeshore. 

Large long lakes that connected, diverged, plenty of space for swimmers, canoers, fishers, people sitting and looking and chatting. 

 

I was one of the first to wake the next morning, and I snuck outside. 

Down the stairs, down the path, to the lake.

I don’t often get to sleep that close to a lake, and it felt like a treat. 

The rain had stopped, and the sun was rising. Everything wet and sparkling. 

 

The water surface was calm, smooth. 

Except for where water was dropping from tree leaves along the shore. 

Drop, drop, drop. 

 

I stood and watched those drops. Almost as mesmerizing as ocean wavers or fire flames. 

A drop would hit the water, and then spread out, making a bigger and bigger circle. 

And another, next to it, overlapping. 

 

The image took my mind to a piece I had worked on with others during the winter, published in last year’s edition of Spire.

We made a graphic for it, an attempt to show how individuals or groups can work together, how small actions can become part of bigger actions. 

That graphic had the same concentric circles that I was seeing, studying, on the water. 

 

Can small efforts really make a difference? I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of some of our large global human-induced challenges: our emissions and the changing climate, our land use and biodiversity loss, conflicts and refugees and forced migration. Looking at these circles, spreading out, makes me think… maybe? 

 

In that article, we talked about “peer-to-peer social affinity”, or “interactions based on mutual interest between equal-level actors; individual to individual, group to group, state to state, and nation to nation.” These circles, on this lake, were overlapping, interacting, building something bigger. 

 

The drops had no objective. No agenda. They each disappeared as they grew. 

 

I had to turn away. Go back into the camp. 

Into the chaos of a morning filled with excited kids and pancakes and plans for swimming. 

But the drops and the circles stayed with me. 

I can be a drop. I am one. My actions can make a circle.  

And I am surrounded by others, overlapping, interacting, and maybe…

creating something that won’t disappear. 

 

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]]> /spire/2024/04/05/delaney/feed/ 0 We, the impossible seeds of life /spire/2024/04/05/prevost/ /spire/2024/04/05/prevost/#respond Fri, 05 Apr 2024 18:34:39 +0000 /spire/?p=4299 By Nola Prevost    Bio Nola Marley Prevost is a writer and editor from Brewer, Maine. She has a B.A. in English Creative Writing from the 91±¬ÁĎ, and has been published in Beyond Words Literary Magazine and The Open Field Literary Magazine, later becoming its editor. Currently she is co-editor of Wayward Literature. […]

The post We, the impossible seeds of life appeared first on The Maine Journal of Conservation and Sustainability.

]]> By Nola Prevost 

 

Bio

Nola Marley Prevost is a writer and editor from Brewer, Maine. She has a B.A. in English Creative Writing from the 91±¬ÁĎ, and has been published in Beyond Words Literary Magazine and The Open Field Literary Magazine, later becoming its editor. Currently she is co-editor of Wayward Literature. She is a recipient of the McGillicuddy Humanities Fellowship. When she’s not writing, she enjoys exploring the woods of Maine.

 

We, the impossible seeds of life

We, the impossible seeds of life,
We Sing tales of days past
As if it is not the present
We are hoping to serenade.

And We, the stewards of the land,
We Sail over great bodies
As if it is not our own brethren
In the shadow of the hull.

And We, the veins of the planet,
We Make light of our feats
As if we are not someone else’s future,
As if our ancestors are not proud.

And We, the heartbeat of the solar system,
We Praise an endless sky
For its impossibly absent borders,
As if we ourselves are not just as vast.

And We, The cells of the Milky Way,
We Bask in the light of the sun
As if it is not our own light
Shining back at us.

 

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]]> /spire/2024/04/05/prevost/feed/ 0 Poetry Series: Today; (my) Exploit; Your Blue-Move /spire/2024/04/05/read-2/ /spire/2024/04/05/read-2/#respond Fri, 05 Apr 2024 18:34:38 +0000 /spire/?p=4305 By Sydney Read   Artist Statement  My poetry explores language that turns our attention back into connection with the natural world. In what ways does the natural world “make-with” me, as a co-composer of poetry? Can poetry be a bridge, a point of reconnection and reorientation, toward the presence of what we live among—the more […]

The post Poetry Series: Today; (my) Exploit; Your Blue-Move appeared first on The Maine Journal of Conservation and Sustainability.

]]> By Sydney Read

 

Artist Statement 

My poetry explores language that turns our attention back into connection with the natural world. In what ways does the natural world “make-with” me, as a co-composer of poetry? Can poetry be a bridge, a point of reconnection and reorientation, toward the presence of what we live among—the more than human? I consider my compositions to be made-with the natural world around me; the poems I offer here are born out of my composing-with the parts of Maine I know best.

I want my poetry to be a means through which you and I—poet and reader—might visit to re-attain a sense of interconnectedness with the wild world around us. My poetry seeks to radically intertwine the human with the world we call home, or alternatively, point out when we actively are separating ourselves using language. When might a poem, a little collection of words, give rise to the impulse to remember where our feet are? That the world we live in, we not only inhabit but share-with?

We live in a time in which it is imperative that we remind ourselves that we are not alone: we are living and dying-with, in community with the little and large beings that dwell alongside us. To care for our world, which is rapidly dying world (and by our own hands no less!), we must de-center ourselves consciously. We must become-with our fellow birds and hedgehogs, keeping them in mind with our steps and our breaths, knowing that they talk to us, and we talk to them.

I offer these poems as a step toward care-full action. My hope is that these poems will unsettle the ways in which we live our lives in separation, cause us to become conscious of our relationship to the more-than-human world (that is, a world that includes nonhuman beings), and therefore exercise care for it.

To save our world, or at the very least, help her along, we require a conscious shift in perspective. It starts, I believe, with language. I hope that my poems help you notice where your feet are. I hope that when you walk outside today, you recognize the smells and songs of the beings with which you always share your life. May we all walk gently along our earth in thanks, remember those with whom we walk.

 

Today

Remember your hands, gentle burrower. 

 

                                                                                Return them to the earth—

 

                                                                                                                                yes, that there, the dirt! 

                                                                                                                               The patch below your window will do. 

 

You, creature! You, friend to worms!

 

                                                                                Feel under your fingernails for the invitation and 

 

                                                                                                                                            recall that you, too, 

                                                                                                                                            are webbed and clawed and 

                                                                                                                                            wanting to be 

                                                                                                                                            with 

the rest,

               left behind, be

                                          low 

                                                 before—remember? 

 

                                                                  You do. 

                                                                  You breathe(d). 

 

                            So, settle down and show me:

 

                                                                  your tentacle fingers,

                                                                  oh

                                                                  my sweet animal. 

                                                                  Show me how you 

 

                                                                  yearn 

                                                                  for home. 

 

(my) Exploit

give me

                                                                                                                                     of your quills, 

                                                                                                                                                                oh hedgehog

                                                                                                                                              their sur 

                                                                                                                                                               prize                                                          

like these bananas, their ripe-raw

dan

     gle off the holder—hold it! 

                                                     they quicken, with the snow-sun, see it—just there 

                                                                                                          behind them, softly yellowing along with them

                                                                                                                                          beyond my kitchen window?

 

and there below the snow-stung tree the squirrel 

                                                                                                                   our quill-less cousin who waits

                                                                                                                                                          just as well as

 

the anticipating orange, unpe

                                                     eled, who

                                                                               holds her breath 

                                                                               which is my breath superimposed onto her breath like a

                                                                               metaphor or a plea

                                                                               but really just 

                                                                                                                  imagine! 

                                                                                                                  if an orange 

                                                                                                                                              could breathe like the 

                                                                                                                                              squirrel can breathe like 

                                                                                                                                              you can breathe and 

                                                                                                                                              then who 

is breathing, now?

give me 

 

these words these breaths these prayers that engender the boundaries of our realities that tell the textures of our quills and our breaths and our banana orange peels and oh don’t we always find out that we are all the same in the end but still I choose to float above my body, wanting more!

 

if you give me 

                                  of your quills 

                                                                    oh hedgehog,

                                                                                                                                                will I be sorry?

                                                                                                                                                 will we be whole?

see her turn

saying 

soft

                               

“when I pull these quills out of my skin,

(you call it poetry!) 

 

                                                                                                                                       will you thank me when I’m done?”

Your Blue-Move

Wait! 

Before you go, if you could just 

                           tell me:

 

What is this 

               that is different 

                                            in you?

 

See, you’re hazy you’re

                             melting, just there, at the edges

                                                                              into the sky behind, you see

                                                                                            that blue-move and you’re 

                                                                                                           moving-with her, like a cloud.

 

Or maybe it’s your hands, you see them? Open:

                                                                                  your palms, your love-lines tracing a living,

                                                                                                                             untraceable place. 

 

                                                                                                              See your thumbs? Perched?

                                                                               You’re holding your openness like an offering.

 

Don’t forget—

I saw you slip under the covers last night. I know it’s true, you smell like 

lilies and frog mud but you’re also so

                                         home. You pressed your feet into the backs of my toes, and 

                                         your breath on 

                                         my neck was

                                         misty, like morning air 

                                         snakelike, like weaving through blades of grass.

                                         I heard you murmur their names in your dreams. 

And your trousers, unrolled! Your eyes, unbidden. 

                                                     I see them now, in the doe-brown dirt. I see 

                                                     you there.

 

So forgive me, please, but where just where have you gone?

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                      You are here, darling.

                                                                                                                                 You are more here than you’ve ever been.

                                                                                                                                                       Isn’t it marvelous?

 

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