The Ferns of New York

Marsh Fern.

The New York woods, upstate, are crannied, rocky and moist (in spite of an early summer drought). They abound with tumbled boulders, beech and oak, fen and fern, and I was downright taken aback, when I first ran through the old trees, the air buzzing with mosquitoes, through the lush shrub layer (witch hazel, jack-in-the-pulpit, wild ginger, blood root), to see the fern bounty. The community of ferns is lush and abundant. Christmas fern dots the wood edges, where the path runs straight under sweeping hemlock boughs. Where the path switches back and slowly climbs a hill, maiden-hair fern stands most delicate. In dappled sun of a wooded fen, marsh fern bursts from the muck. Sensitive fern parallels the Amtrak rails, where I sat one hot afternoon and keyed-out bracken fern, its leaf three feet across (its rhizome buried deep below the ground - impervious to the drought), and was awoken from my deep concentration by the loud whistle of a commuter train! My heart was pounding as I leaped off the tracks to the safety of the dark woods. "Just like a startled deer," I said to myself.

 Keying-out those ferns took hours. The vocabulary of ferns is as rich and varied as the ferns themselves. Fronds, stipes and blades are the easy beginning. They key progresses to pinna and pinnules, sori and rachis. You scratch your head as the key asks you progressively more detailed questions. Is the fern aquatic? Simple, no it is terrestrial. Are the blades pinnatifid or pinnate? Pinnate, definitely. Well, wait, I think they're bipinnate. No, actually pinnate-pinnatifid. Is the stipe smooth or does it have scales, and what is their color? I didn't get much of the stipe, so I'll skip that one. Are there old fronds persistant on the rhizome? I collected a frond and left the woods. I can't check the rhizome... I usually end up keying a fern the old fashioned way: flipping through the field guide, looking at the pictures.

Those ferns were a wonderful diversion from my work at Skidmore College. Those woods were quiet, peaceful, old, and if it weren't for the mosquitoes, I might have sat in the shade for a while and just watched an old patch of ferns. I will be headed back this Sunday ( 9/2/12) to visit the campus once more before starting a new job. Perhaps I'll take an old green cape made from thick wool, and wrap myself, sit in the woods, and watch a marsh fern grow...