Big Red Goes Green
I walked out of class at the end of a Friday late October, completely exhausted from a day of hard work: an exam that did not go well, a frustrating article that no one gave quotes for and a bewildering in-class exercise in metacognitive abilities that no one understood. But the sight that greeted my eyes left no room for pessimism or petty complaints: gleaming in the rich golden sunlight, there was a magnificent display of colors lifted by sturdy pebble-shaded bark—light moss, sandy yellow, baby pink foliage. And always, always, the deep, heart-warming, velvety crimson. It was this bed of crimson that greeted me the first day on campus three years ago, made me fall in love with New England cold. It was this magical flare that gave me solace and compelled me to write poetry during my first week away from home.
I picked up a fallen leaf, examined the battleground between chlorophyll and carotenoid, the latent veins, a million frontlines. I smoothed it out and placed it between the two pages of my diary. Reliving the memory of these moments warmed my heart as I headed back to campus from D-squared this past weekend, sighing when I noticed the leafless trees that lined the shortcut through the bookstore. Fall was over, for now. But only twelve months more and the red leaves would come again.
Except, next year the leaves may not come again, at least not in their fully-fledged crimson glory in the peak of autumn. Over the past five decades, biologists all over New England have been tracking leaf color changes through meteorological stations, satellite imagery, and an elaborate network of digital cameras, aptly named the PhenoCam network. Their conclusion? The fall foliage that we observe today, vibrant as it is, is not comparable to that of fifty years ago in beauty and diversity; warmer climates have delayed the peak color-changing season and enabled pests and pathogens to strike more vulnerable species.
In another few years, higher temperatures will also, unsurprisingly, result in the decline and eventual demise of species long adapted to cold weather. In particular, the New Hampshire Department of Environmental Sciences has predicted the replacement of northern hardwood, spruce and fir forests by more Southern trees. Sugar maples, a signature of our area, are also “extremely susceptible to mid-winter thaws and summer droughts;” as a result, they will either “sicken, decline and disappear, or their geographic distribution may migrate north,” if climate change continues at a pace that it does today.
Living amidst the comfort of the Exeter bubble, it is sometimes hard for us to believe, except in an exceedingly abstract sense, the reality of climate change. We do not depend on erratic mother nature for subsistence. We find it much easier to intellectualize and debate, taking sides based on our previous biases.
But if we look closely enough, the changes, though slow, are happening before our eyes. The beautiful fall foliage, one of the most spectacular in the world, a source of spiritual refreshment that all of us Exonians take for granted, may not always be there. Already, in other areas in New Hampshire, residents have noticed unusual patterns in the color-changing cycle. And for some of them, fall foliage is not only scenic—it is the premise upon which their business is run.
“Leaf-peeping,” a multi-million dollar tourism industry draws 3 million visitors to New Hampshire every fall from all around the globe. Unpredictability in the timing of the color change has caused difficulty in businesses estimating the number of tourists and tourists planning their trips. Though foliage tourism is far from facing an existential threat, many service providers are concerned. WGBH News quoted Christopher Bells, owner of the two-hundred-year-old Cranmore Inn in North Conway, New Hampshire, who expressed concern for his family business. “I worry about the long-term,” Bellis said. Another industry dependent on the health of local trees is the maple syrup industry, which brings in $3 to $3.5 million for the state per year. Pests and pathogens withstanding, hot weather also causes difficulties for maple trees to produce sugar.
In local foliage as well as in other matters, climate change is a slow and silent actor, striking stealthily when least expected. It is important, therefore, to take action before it is too late.