Article and Photos by Margo Persin, Rutgers Environmental Steward
Editor’s Note: In 2018 Margo Persin joined the Rutgers Environmental Steward program for training in the important environmental issues affecting New Jersey. Program participants are trained to tackle local environmental problems through a service project. As part of Margo’s service project she chose to conduct assessments of a local stream for a year, and to provide the data she gathered to the Lower Raritan Watershed Partnership (LRWP). Margo keeps a journal of her experiences, excerpts of which are included in the LRWP’s “Voices of the Watershed” column.
As my year-long project entailing the assessment of the Ambrose Brook is now drawing to a close, I wanted to make one last observational visit to the site, which I completed on 31 December 2018. As I was driving over, in my mind I reviewed the year and wondered, at this point in the process, if there would anything more or new that I could possibly say about the Ambrose Brook. Well, was I in for a surprise, and a most captivating one at that! I arrived at just about 10:30 am, I was the only human around, and as I traversed the eastern side of the stream, I spied just one pair of mallards afloat on the lazy, meandering brook. The male’s plumage was blatantly obvious against the muddy, slow-moving current, whereas the female’s was camouflaged just about perfectly with the background: muddy water, brown earth, fallen leaves. The sky was overcast and the air was calm with a moderate 40 degree temperature that provided a welcome and silent capsule for my period of observation. My goal was to walk the bank, if possible on both sides, from a bit past the small waterfall all the way back to the footbridge and back again. And with this trajectory, nature provided me with a series of surprises.
As
I made my way south on the eastern side of the brook, a veritable flock of
mallard pairs came into view, comfortably resting on the water’s surface, the
first that I have seen in the entire year.
They gave me a slight if sneering glance, then turned away from me to
glide closer to the western bank. Secondly, as I walked along the bank farther
and farther from the street noise, I noticed that several trees had a
distinctive series of marks along the base up to about one foot, all around the
circumference of the trunk. I am not a
naturalist, but I wondered if by any chance it could be a family of beavers at
work. “Nah”, I said to myself, this
place has too many people around, “no way”.
Well, I suspect that I was proved wrong!
At another spot, a neatly chewed tree, gnawed to what looked like a
precise pencil point, had been felled and now was lying in the water, the
severed trunk just inches from the sad looking stump. “Aha!” I exclaimed, “nature wins again,
beavers’ resourcefulness as effective or more so as a mini-chainsaw”. I never did see any beavers but their handiwork
was a very good indicator of their presence.
At the farthest point away from the street, still on the eastern side of
the brook, felled trees were piled up very close to the water’s edge, and I
wondered whether that might be an indication of a lovely and cozy den. Hmmmm…..
Beaver handiwork. Very impressive!
After
crossing the footbridge to the western side of the brook, I was presented with
another of nature’s surprises. Now that
winter is officially upon us and foliage has died back both above my head and
below my feet, I was able to make my way about three quarters of the distance
to the small waterfall. As I walked
among the brown brush, fallen branches, and dormant grasses, it dawned on me
that the brook had on this western bank a lovely and wide flood plain well
below street level that I had never noticed before, given the presence of a
daunting array of vegetation, including some very fierce brambles that had
heartily discouraged my passage in previous visits. Wow!
Talk about hiding in plain sight!
I presume that this flood plain accepts the surplus of storm water that
occasionally overflows the banks of the brook, which is then absorbed into the
ecosystem, but in turn does not flood area streets … or basements. Nifty!
West Bank flood plain, Brook is to the right, street to the left.
And two last affirmative surprises. Having crossed over once again to the eastern side, I noticed yet another storm water outlet that fed into the brook, close to the small waterfall. I had never noticed it before because of the verdant camouflage offered by the grasses that were presumably fed by its generous flow and overflow. It was right there all the time, but I had never seen it. It humbled me and made me smile – in this visit, I suspect that nature, anthropomorphized to be sure, was having a good chuckle at my expense because of my naiveté. To think that there would be ‘nothing more to see’ was pure hubris and I was given my comeuppance. In addition, the waterfall also had a surprise. Even though the water continues to flow, it was evident that it was starting to freeze at the base! The clumps of white ice shone unmistakably through the tumbling current, a solemn reminder that winter is upon us. I would have missed it if I had not walked closer to the waterfall than I had ever done on previous visits.
Waterfall view in winter. Great for a contemplative moment.
The
last surprise was not a very happy one.
As I made my way on both sides of the brook, I took note of several
places where the water was almost completely stagnant, where the current did
not have the opportunity to lend an active, cleansing presence. And in those small culverts at the water’s edge,
I noted that the water kept a glaze of oil slick of who knows what
composition. At first glance I had
guessed that the water might be beginning to freeze, but upon closer
inspection, the real reason for the discoloration was obvious: water pollution
of a chemical nature. Ugh.
So this was my visit, a combination
of wonder and despair. I plan to offer
in the coming weeks one last report, an estimation of the year’s trajectory as
applied to my original proposal for this project. Happy New Year, everyone! May nature be your guide and live in your
heart.
Article and Photos by Margo Persin, Rutgers Environmental Steward
Editor’s Note: In 2018 Margo Persin joined the Rutgers Environmental Steward program for training in the important environmental issues affecting New Jersey. Program participants are trained to tackle local environmental problems through a service project. As part of Margo’s service project she chose to conduct assessments of a local stream for a year, and to provide the data she gathered to the Lower Raritan Watershed Partnership (LRWP). Margo keeps a journal of her experiences, excerpts of which are included in the LRWP’s “Voices of the Watershed” column.
Fall has arrived in all of its glory to Ambrose Brook. This visit entailed yet another habitat assessment, one of several that have taken place throughout 2018 under the aegis of my Environmental Stewards program project, and most probably the last for this year-long commitment. For this round of measurements, I was very fortunate to have for company, support and assistance Susan E., another Environmental Steward whose project has been an inspiration and role model of sorts for my own. We arrived at the designated spot on the Ambrose Brook at around 10:30 in the morning. The weather was co-operative: high overcast skies, temperature in the high 40’s, variable light wind. It was so helpful to have Susan to aid in the assessment from logistical and safety points of view as well as the advantage of the team work that it provided.
We immediately set to work by measuring out the required inspection distance, placing our flag markers along the designated route, and deciding who would undertake what task for the actual stream assessment of width, depth and velocity, in addition to visually based water conditions, stream and land use characteristic, and high gradient monitoring. To begin, my stream buddy waited at the bank pen and paper in hand while I lurched into the stream for width measurement, equipped with a handy retractable tape measure. I called out the measurement numbers and she jotted them down on the assessment sheets. So far, so good. The next task was depth measurement, to be taken with a rigid metal ruler at various spots along the flag marked course of the brook. I waded mid-stream along our designated route and quickly discovered to my chagrin that my waterproof boots were approximately two inches too low for the water’s depth …. so aside from our official water temperature of 49 degrees taken with a floating thermometer, my feet measured the water temp and gave out a silent primordial scream as the water rushed into said boots and soaked boots, socks, feet, and pant legs. Arrr-r-r-g-g-g-h-h-hhhhh! But I had thought about such an eventuality and had brought along dry socks, shoes and a towel, which were put to excellent use once our foray was concluded.
Stream monitoring equipment, including boots too short for the water’s depth midstream
The measurement of velocity proved to be the most interesting to us. At the start of the designated course, Susan dropped in the red plastic duck mid-stream, which began to wend its way downstream toward me according to the force of the flowing water’s current. I used a stopwatch, timed each passage, and called out the numbers. Per the directive on the assessment sheet, we took four readings that varied between less than a minute to slightly over two minutes. However, with the fifth and last release of the duck, we got a surprise. It stopped mid-journey, irrevocably caught in a small whirlpool that was just about invisible at the water’s surface. We were only made aware of this singular current by the round-and-round dance of the red duck mid-stream, and midway between the starting point and presumed ending point. Thus our final measurement for velocity called for a bit of not-so-subtle human intervention in the form of ‘making waves’, in order to encourage the red duck to continue on its journey. The elapsed time for this final reading was four and one half minutes, double the greatest of the previous four. Not only was this a singular event for this round of assessments, but for all the previous ones earlier in the year. No doubt that stream bed conditions created this unexpected duck dance.
As a final contribution to the assessment, we took a seat on one of the park benches and worked our way through the rest of the paperwork. We consulted on each of the necessary readings and were able to arrive at mutually acceptable descriptive categories in regard to water conditions, stream and land use characteristics, and high gradient monitoring. A contribution that enriched our observation was that my stream assessment buddy pointed out an additional pipe outlet, presumably for rain runoff, that I had missed completely in my previous observations. Two heads are better than one.
So this yearly cycle will soon be drawing to a close, given that I began in December of 2017. I plan to offer some reflections on this journey and offer for contemplation the lesson that have presented themselves to me with the turning of the seasons. Happy Holidays, everyone.
Article and Photos by Margo Persin, Rutgers Environmental Steward
Editor’s Note: In 2018 Margo Persin joined the Rutgers Environmental Steward program for training in the important environmental issues affecting New Jersey. Program participants are trained to tackle local environmental problems through a service project. As part of Margo’s service project she chose to conduct assessments of a local stream for a year, and to provide the data she gathered to the Lower Raritan Watershed Partnership (LRWP). Margo keeps a journal of her experiences, excerpts of which are included in the LRWP’s “Voices of the Watershed” column.
This visit to the Ambrose Brook in Middlesex, NJ took place on a sunny, blustery fully autumn day. I didn’t know what to expect in regard to this visit, given that Hurricane Michael had blown through NJ the previous day. What was most impressive about the site was that it was imbued with a sense of energy and even restlessness, perhaps a carryover from the weather event of the day before. As I wandered along the stream bank, my attention was caught by the wind, strong gusts that kicked up dust and a trail of early falling leaves that scattered along the footpaths, the banks of the moving brook, and settled momentarily on the water. There was plentiful sunshine, open blue sky, a few scattered clouds that gave scant shadow on the earth, but… fall is in the air. The surrounding trees have not yet lost all of their leaves, but it is evident that the summer heat and earth’s natural cycle are performing their annual duty: the tree color is washed out, leaves are drying out and there is more space between the upper branches, as evidence of the drying and falling leaves. The tall grasses at various points on the stream banks have taken on a brownish hue, in contrast with the deeper green of the earlier summer months. Is there a change in the sunlight’s power? I tend to think so. In resting for a few moments on the banks of the stream on a strategically placed bench, I noted that the angle of the sunlight was lower, so the sun’s rays and warmth were mitigated by the obvious change of season, the rotation and tilting of our green planet here in the northern latitude toward winter. Oh, don’t utter the word!
The restlessness that I noted previously can be attributed to the energy that is expressed in the pulsing of the planet via various sources: the movement of the wind, as noted in the trees, grasses and leaves, the rustling and creaking of overhead branches, and the comings and goings of the Canadian geese. For this visit, various groups of geese appeared to be organized into elite squadrons, squawking their arrivals and departures on clearly defined areas of the brook, which took on the function of an aquatic airport, an avian Newark Liberty, as it were. None were to be found on the grass or footpaths. In contrast with earlier visits during spring and summer; for this visit, the geese were supremely active, aggressive even, as if protecting given areas on the water’s surface for their landings and take-offs. I wonder if their ancient memory of paths of fall migration was contributing to their agitation. Their honking and hissing carried from all along the footpath. Other birds that were noted were hearty and intrepid blue jays, who with their size and weight, seemed to be able to tolerate the wind’s gusts and buffeting, as well as a privacy seeking blue heron. The latter was tucked into a quiet shallow at the base and to the side of the waterfall, likely an attempt to avoid and ignore the noisy Canadian geese. (This last comment is a glaring example of anthropomorphism, I know, but those geese really are quite vocal, pushy and …mildly annoying.) Ground squirrels, who appear to be in fine flesh, have begun to heed autumn’s warning, several were observed collecting and munching on the first fall of acorns from the surrounding oaks.
Ambrose Brook was swollen and fast moving, manifesting a steady and plentiful flow, with even some white water at the base of the waterfall. Although I had not brought any measuring equipment for this visit, my ‘guess-timate’ based on visual measurement alone as to water depth was approximately 8-10 inches closer to the bank and 12-15 inches toward the center of the stream and past the small waterfall, surely because of the rainfall from Hurricane Michael. The stream had lots of surface ripples, which acted as prisms for the sunlight, and thus produced a dancing refraction of water, waves, and light. Lovely.
So, this cycle of observation and assessment of mine will soon be drawing to a close. My commitment was for a year’s worth of visits and measurements. Given that I began in December of 2017, only a few more visits remain. Now that autumn is upon us, I am struck by the wholesomeness of this process and how the observation of nature’s constant change ironically demonstrates its sureness and constancy. The beauty of each season does not depend on human intervention – nature and the environment are enough, in and of themselves.
Ahoy There Matey! Rutgers Environmental Stewards Take Their First Boat Trip on the Raritan River
On May 3rd the Middlesex class of Rutgers Environmental Stewards took the water. This afforded them a rare opportunity to see the Raritan River up close by taking a 2 hour boat trip on the new R/V Rutgers. The R/V Rutgers is a new boat operated by the Department of Marine and Coastal Sciences. This 36 ft. (11 meter) aluminum landing craft is a 20 passenger vessel and supports a wide range of educational and scientific needs such as trawling, grab sampling, diving, water profiling, coring, AUV operations, etc. Faculty can reserve the vessel so students can get a first-hand look at the Raritan River ecosystem and the human impacts to the watershed.
This is part of a larger effort by the Rutgers Collaborative for Research and Education to “Bring the River to your classroom” and works to support faculty efforts in engaging students and the community in Raritan River data and science through data activities.
The Rutgers Environmental Stewards program trains volunteers on important environmental issues affecting New Jersey and helps them make a difference in their own communities. The program consists of 60 hours of classes offered around the state on topics including habitat protection, climate change, geology, soil health, alternative energy, invasive plants, environmental policy, pollinators, and much more. Stewards complete a 60 hour internship of their choosing in order to become certified. Optional field trips are included. Anyone can become an Environmental Steward regardless of background.
The Stewards met the boat in Boyd Park in New Brunswick at the Class of 1914 Boathouse and were welcomed by the boat’s captain Chip Haldeman, and first mate Nicole Waite. Joining us on our trip was Dr. Heather Fenyk, Director of the Lower Raritan Watershed Partnership, and Dr. JeanMarie Hartman, Professor in the Department of Landscape Architecture. Heather and JeanMarie provided a rich history of the Raritan and identified points of interest including shale outcrop geologic formations, the Lenape Trail connection to the River, noted flora and fauna, as well as the industrial legacy of contaminated sites, old factories, and the Edgewater Landfill.
First mate Nicole taught the Stewards how researchers monitor water quality and trained them on collecting data using YSI water monitoring probes to test for dissolved oxygen, pH, temperature, and salinity. We also saw 2 Bald Eagles, countless Ospreys, Cormorants, and vast marshland. The salt marshes are mostly dominated by Phragmites australis, an invasive grass known as Common Reed, but we also saw native Spartina alterniflora (Salt Marsh Cordgrass) holding its own at the fringes of the saltmarshes.
Overwhelmingly the Stewards walked away with a new appreciation of this fantastic natural resource that most of us take for granted. Most people see the Raritan River as a place to avoid, to view from afar from the Garden State Parkway or Route 1 Bridge. This experience helped the Stewards better understand the River that lies in the heart of their community, and the importance of making sure it is cleaned up and protected.
Keep an eye on the LRWP blog for information about how to register for the Rutgers Environmental Steward class of 2018!
Photos and article by Michele Bakacs, Environmental and Resource Management Agent, Cooperative Extension of Middlesex County, Rutgers New Jersey Agricultural Experiment Station
Through a relatively new program sponsored by Rutgers University Cooperative Extension, citizens throughout the Lower Raritan Watershed are working to help people discover the hidden natural world flowing through their communities. These citizens are part of the Rutgers Environmental Steward program and their projects range from conducting stream habitat assessments to developing middle school illustration lessons highlighting the flora and fauna of the watershed.
The goal of the Rutgers Environmental Steward program is to help citizens understand the science behind pressing environmental issues and help create positive environmental change in their communities. Susan Edmunds from Highland Park is one such Environmental Steward working on assessing the health of Mill Brook, a tributary of the Lower Raritan River.
“My goal is to bring an awareness of the Mill Brook to the community so we can work to protect it and use it as an asset. I have realized the most important thing to do is just talk to people about the brook. So many people just don’t know it is there. It would be nice to be able to take a stroll along the brook in some of the already existing parks.”
One morning in September, we scramble down a steep ravine and climb down over branches to the brook. The brook is hidden behind chain link fences, railroad overpasses, and overgrown vegetation. Once you are there you can’t believe how beautiful it is. We are transported to a natural world where the gurgling stream winds its way past towering locusts and silver maple canopy trees, and through sandstone and shale outcrops. Of course we see garbage and dumping typical of every urban waterway- the stereotypical abandoned tire and shopping cart, down trees across the stream collecting trash showing you just how damaging plastic water bottles can be to our environment when not disposed of properly. But except for the occasional train coming by as a reminder, you can barely tell how close we are to houses, roads, and train tracks. There’s the sounds of birds, leaves blowing, shadows and sunlight peaking through the trees on the water. The brook is a hidden gem waiting to be discovered by anyone who makes the effort to find it.
“The Environmental Stewards program was exactly what I hoped it would be in that I gave me a way to start getting involved with environmental protection in my community.”
Environmental Steward Susan Edmunds Assesses Mill Brook
Mapping Mill Brook is the project Susan chose for her Rutgers Environmental Steward internship. After attending about 60 hours of classes that start in January and run through June, Stewards complete an internship project of their choosing in order to become a certified Rutgers Environmental Stewards. The program welcomes non-scientists and links them with members of the academic community, government, and non-profits. The curriculum includes classes, field trips, and an internship. Once Susan is done mapping her section of Mill Brook she will summarize her findings for the Lower Raritan Watershed Partnership who will use her work to prioritize sections of the Lower Raritan for monitoring, restoration, and clean up.
“Already this project has connected me with so many people who are just like me in that they want to clean up this stream. From this assessment I plan to create a presentation about the brook and its history. I am excited about the potential for a Friends of the Mill Brook group working together towards stream access. This assessment is just the beginning of my journey.”
During the assessment, Susan takes pictures of deteriorating culverts, tree snags that collect garbage and stormdrain outfalls- concrete pipes that empty the rainwater runoff from local roads into the stream. We walk into a steep ravine probably 25 feet high with sandstone and shale outcrops leading to a large culvert where the stream flows under the NJTransit’s train tracks. This ends today’s journey and we turn around to make our way back to civilization.
If you are like Susan, and looking to start your own journey helping to protect the local environment, then sign up for the 2017 Rutgers Environmental Stewards class. Classes start in January in 5 counties throughout the state including Middlesex County at the EARTH Center in South Brunswick, and Somerset County at Duke Farms. For more information contact Michele Bakacs, at 732-398-5274, mbakacs@rutgers.edu, or visit our website http://envirostewards.rutgers.edu/
