Erin Witham is the Regional Conservation Partnership (RCP) coordinator for the Downeast Conservation Network, which has been driving collaborative conservation and research projects throughout Maine’s coastal Hancock and Washington counties since 2010. Erin attended her first RCP Network Gathering in 2018 as a UMass graduate student in sustainability science and has attended nearly every Gathering since. Today she is a veteran of the annual conference and a member of the RCP Network Steering Committee.
What was your first impression of the Gathering?
I had already been working in conservation and had figured out that “partnerships” was my area of passion. I was like, “Wow, there’s this whole group of people who are already thinking about this!” It was so exciting for me! And a connection that I made (at the Gathering) got me the job that I’m still doing today.
I’m interested in hearing more about your passion for partnerships.
When I first started working in conservation, I had a very classic non-profit experience. I was doing a little bookkeeping, and administration, and surveying culverts for this grant, and doing data analysis for this other grant—you do a little bit of everything. But I had a chance to work on a restoration project and see what it takes to coordinate everyone: the grantors, the permitters, the Town, and the local community. It was gratifying to see all those people come together and it made the project so much better. It was reallyfun, and I thought, “I want to do this moving forward.”
What is so special about the RCP Network Gathering?
It’s a conference that’s on the leading edge of the conservation movement. I always leave so proud to be part of the conservation community. The Gathering is centered on justice and looking at conservation through that lens. How are we expanding how we think about conservation? It puts us where the conservation movement is going and of course, all that good work happens through collaboration.
Can you tell me more about the networking piece?
The conference has always done a good job at leaving big spaces for people to connect. I’ve been focused on how to build more relationships between municipal government and conservation, and this past year at the conference I saw some inspiring examples of that in other partnerships. Going to these conferences also gives me the opportunity to meet with other RCP coordinators, and that’s what led me to join the RCP Network Steering Committee.
What would you say to RCP members who may be on the fence about attending the Gathering?
The conference gives people the opportunity to understand their work in a broader context. RCPs are all so different in how they’re structured, the types of projects they’re focused on, and who’s a member. You’ve got to come see how all these other groups do it and get new ideas. And it doesn’t have to fall into a strict definition of an RCP; you get to learn about all sorts of collaborative efforts. You’re with a group of people who understand that.
Highstead has a long history of natural surveys on the property dating back to when the Dudley’s first purchased land in Redding in the early 1980s, including a soil survey in 1983, a forest vegetation survey in 1984, and a bird and plant survey in 1985. More recently, there have been repeated woodland vegetation surveys, as well as surveys of deer, turtles, rabbits, birds, lichens, and moths and butterflies. One area that has not been thoroughly surveyed, however, is the grassland meadows.
Meadow surveys are complex because grasses and sedges can be difficult to identify, including European species of forage grass that many botanists are not as familiar with. Meadows can have many layers of vegetation, and plants that are closest to the ground are often hidden by taller species. Further, meadows are managed by mowing which complicates surveying and often leaves botanists with the challenge of trying to identify plants from the stubs that remain after they are cut.
In 2024, consulting botanist Chris Mangles conducted our first comprehensive meadow survey over a five-month period, scouting the meadow in spring, summer, and fall to capture the various plants that are present in each season. We expected to discover many new species we didn’t know were growing on the property, but the results were beyond what we expected.
Mangles identified 240 meadow species and acknowledged there are likely many more that he may have missed due to a hay harvest that took place in late August. This relatively high level of species richness—the total number of species in an area—indicates that it is an old meadow.
One of the most exciting discoveries was a large population of Bush’s sedge (Carex bushiiI), a plant of special concern in Connecticut. Another plant of special concern, purple milkweed (Asclepias purpurascens), also lives in the meadow, and is the largest known population in New England.
Mangles also found two new species of orchids. We have now documented four orchid species in the meadow.
Many of the recorded species were documented with herbarium specimens, providing a record of the plants found on the property and serving as a reference for future surveys. These surveys are critical for identifying plants of special concern and other threatened species and for protecting open space, such as our meadow, which is also managed for bobolinks (Dolichonyx oryzivorus).
White-tailed deer are one of New England’s most iconic creatures and a common sight in human-dominated environments, including suburban backyards and gardens. But what effect are deer—and their cousins, moose—having on the region’s forests?
Highstead Senior Ecologist Ed Faison has been studying the impacts of deer and moose on New England’s forests, including deer browsing at Highstead, for nearly two decades. He uses large, fenced plots called exclosures to exclude these ungulates and prevent browsing, and then compares plant growth within the exclosures to the same in an open, or “control” plot. And while his data suggest that both deer and moose can have a big impact, they are not a significant limiting factor over the long-term when it comes to forest regeneration growing in patch cut timber harvests.
“The message people often hear is deer and moose have caused a regeneration failure,” he says. “But when the canopy opens up, these animals can’t control the forest. Forests here in New England regenerate in gaps, and what we see is this forest is perfectly capable of regenerating— even when it is being heavily browsed—if you open up the canopy.”
Highstead’s two deer exclosures occur under a maturing forest without canopy openings. They were surveyed in 2007, 2013, 2018, and 2023. Faison’s research suggests that in addition to deer, light is limiting regeneration and plant abundance and diversity. For example, within the exclosure, almost no light reaches the forest floor in one of the plots due to the dense shrub layer, which is safe from deer browse. In that plot there is no tree regeneration and a low diversity of herbaceous plants.
The full (deer and moose) exclosure at Great Mountain Forest.
“The herb (lowest) layer is more diverse outside the plot where the deer are eating, which is counterintuitive,” he says. “But if you don’t let deer browse for 26 years, you’re going to get an incredibly dense shrub layer which is going to have a huge impact on what’s growing underneath it.”
Deer browse is species-specific. Faison says there is more Japanese barberry and stiltgrass—invasive species that deer dislike—outside the exclosure where populations of spicebush and other natives that deer prefer are suppressed. Interestingly, burning bush—another prominent invasive species that deer favor—is far more abundant inside the enclosure.
Recently, Faison divided this large, one-acre deer exclosure into two, 30-by-30-meter plots with a 60-meter gap in between. It’s a unique opportunity to study what happens when deer return to a forest from which they have been excluded for a quarter century.
This forest is perfectly capable of regenerating— even when it is being heavily browsed—if you open up the canopy.
Faison is also studying the impacts of herbivore browsing at several other sites, including the Quabbin and Ware Reservoir Forests and Harvard Forest in Massachusetts, and Great Mountain Forest, a 6,000-acre parcel located in Norfolk, Conn. In the winter of 2010, Great Mountain conducted a patch harvest of a white pine stand. That spring, he built three experimental treatments in the harvested stand: a full exclosure that excludes both deer and moose; a partial exclosure with a two-foot gap at the bottom that provides access to deer, but not moose; and an open or control plot where both deer and moose can freely browse. Inside each treatment, he designated a 16-by-16-meter plot to eliminate any impacts of the fence on herbivore browse from his study. Every five-to-six years, he surveys each plot and records the impacts deer and moose are having on the forest’s regeneration.
“This site shows that at moderate densities, deer alone, in this type of environment with this amount of light, are having a minimal impact. Moose and deer (together) are having a big impact, but, still, they’re not preventing this forest from growing back,” he says.
Faison at Great Mountain Forest.
Despite being at the edge of their southern range in eastern North America, the area is home to a substantial moose population, and their browsing impacts are equally significant. But, like deer, moose prefer certain plants over others. As a result, some pioneer species, such as paper birch, gray birch, and pin cherry, thrive inside the moose exclosures, but struggle in the control plot where they’re heavily browsed and shaded by white pine, which moose don’t eat. Faison notes that the control plot is about 50% white pine, compared to 12% to15% in the full and partial exclosures.
“The sequence of succession is you get these pioneer trees that succeed to more shade-tolerant trees—white pine, red maple, black birch, and beech,” he says. “But because the browsers are taking out the pin cherries and white birch almost immediately, they’re accelerating the compositional succession. It’s sort of counterintuitive—they’re browsing heavily but speeding up the process.”
Over the past fifteen years, Faison has observed several patterns. Outside the exclosures, moose and deer are reducing the number of different tree species, but promoting greater structural diversity, namely from large white pines. Inside the exclosures, however, there is less structural complexity (more uniform size classes) but greater species diversity. And while deer and moose can decrease the total number of species in some sites and slow down forest regeneration, Faison says forest regeneration is remarkably resilient to early browsing impacts in New England over the long term.”
“Deer at high densities can really clean out the understory; the forest can look like it’s slowly dying with no tree saplings available to replace the canopy ones,” he says. “But the real test is when you open up the canopy, either naturally from insects or wind damage, or from a patch cut harvest. Can the deer, at the same density, prevent that forest from growing back? The answer is almost invariably ‘no.’ All these buried seeds start to germinate, dormant buds start to get released, the forest gets in full gear. The forest has an incredible ability in reserves and resilience when it needs it, even in the face of browsers.”
A recent meeting of conservation partners from across the Northeast galvanized energy and action for the Northeast Bird Habitat Conservation Initiative (NBHCI), which helps achieve longer-term land protection objectives that benefit both birds and people. The meeting was an opportunity for conservationists from Regional Conservation Partnerships (RCPs), Audubon, and other organizations and partner agencies to network and learn about how partners across the Northeast have been working together on bird-focused land conservation and engagement projects.
One thread throughout the day was how partnerships are essential not only to protect ecological resources but also to support local economies and livelihoods, address growing energy demands, grow healthy food, and reinforce people’s sense of community. RCPs can share information and resources about bird conservation, amplify the impacts of community leaders, and bring diverse partners together while also highlighting local concerns. RCPs are responsive and can quickly pool resources to share information or collaborate on a funding opportunity.
Ways to get connected and involved:
Join the conversations with NBHCI partners: contact Katie Blake, Regional Conservationist at Highstead, and Sara Barker, Project Leader at Cornell Labs.
Get connected with your local RCP. Learn more here.
Access resources of NBHCI initiative meetings and events here, including a recent webinar on providing targeted conservation networking for private landowners.
Join our discussion forums to learn about upcoming webinars and training opportunities, including eBird training workshops. Contact Katie Blake, Regional Conservationist at Highstead to get added.
On a chilly November day, a small group of people is exploring the UMass Amherst campus on a meditative walk led by Regan Stacey. She invites them into a closer relationship with their natural surroundings, pointing out birdsong, variations in the hues of the leaves, the woody scent of the trees, the warmth of the sun peeking through the clouds. For most participants, this is their first introduction to a mindfulness practice known as forest bathing. But for Stacey, a forest therapy guide and healer, it is a practice to which she has devoted her life.
Regan Stacey leads a mindfulness walk at the 2024 RCP Network Gathering.
Forest bathing can unlock new perspectives, even for those who may have already thought of themselves as “environmentalists.”
Forest bathing originated in Japan in the 1980s but has been gaining traction in the United States over the past decade as an antidote to our technology-obsessed society. The Japanese term for the practice, “shinrin-yoku,” translates to “forest bathing” or “absorbing the forest atmosphere” in English. Practitioners can modify the experience to fit their own needs, but the primary goal is to be mindful, relaxed, and aware in an outdoor setting. For instance, while walking through the forest may be the most common version of forest bathing, participants are not limited to forests and walking is not required. Stacey does, however, note the importance of practicing forest bathing in a group setting. While she appreciates the value of solo time spent outside, she says, “People who forest bathe on their own tend to stay still within their own headspace. But when you go with a group, it helps people extend beyond themselves more. By sharing, you’re integrating what you experienced, you’re learning from others, you’re deepening your connection to place through that exchange.”
As forest therapy has gained popularity, numerous studies have affirmed the health and wellness benefits of time spent in nature. The evidence is widespread and varied. In one study, cortisol levels, an indicator of stress, were significantly lower among forest bathing participants, and an indication that the practice can significantly reduce stress. In addition, phytoncides, essential oils found in trees, have been shown to possess antimicrobial properties that may help boost our immune systems. Research also suggests that forest therapy may reduce your blood pressure and heart rate, which lowers the risk of pulmonary disease, and help to alleviate anxiety, depression, anger, and fatigue.
Stacey experienced the healing power of nature after she was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago. During this challenging time, her spiritual journey with the forest began once she finally started “listening” and leaning into the help she knew it was trying to provide her. She was comforted by her time in nature where she was able to disengage from her thoughts, be present in the moment, and see herself as part of something much bigger. In that way, she felt as though the experience of her suffering was somehow eased by the Earth. Her desire to invite others into a similar relationship with the natural world led her to embrace forest therapy as a potential modality to serve both humans and nature. “That’s what brought me to the practice as a way to reconnect humans to nature,” she says, “to fill that void of loneliness that we have an epidemic of in our country.”
As the prevalence of chronic health issues in this country continues to grow, there are opportunities to incorporate forest bathing practices into treatments. Tami Cote, a registered nurse who works in family medicine, attended Stacey’s forest bathing session at the 2024 RCP Network Gathering, an annual conference that supports collaborative landscape conservation. After listening to Stacey’s story and learning more about the practice, she was inspired to implement forest therapy into her healthcare practice. Cote noted how integrative practices, including aromatherapy, reiki, and yoga, are increasingly promoted to support patient healing.
Stacey also sees similarities between forest bathing and yoga, another form of complementary therapy that once was relatively unknown in the West but today is a staple of many wellness routines. Similarly, Cote is hopeful that forest therapy’s integration into healthcare will continue to grow. “I believe the connection between forest bathing and healthcare is that it adds a layer to one’s sense of balance. Being truly in tune with the forest environment can bring about physical, mental, and spiritual benefits,” Cote argues. In fact, many physicians are already prescribing more time spent in nature for their patients.
Stacey argues that beyond its personal health benefits, forest bathing also has the potential to heal the human-nature divide. She describes the practice as a “deep environmental philosophical conversation” that moves beyond a simple breath of fresh air. This conversation often consists of a reciprocal exchange of help in healing, she says. As she began to trust that the forest would help her to heal, her desire to in turn help heal the forest grew. She found that the immersion of one’s senses in the natural world, a crucial component of this experience, can serve as inspiration for people to reconnect with nature, and, in doing so, nurture a drive to protect it.
Stacey’s clients have included environmental professionals from a variety of backgrounds, including science, conservation, and law. One may presume that those working in the environmental field already have a strong bond with the natural world. However, Stacey says that even environmental professionals leave a forest bathing session with a renewed sense of their relationship with nature. “There are people who are very much on the environmental side of things and being proactive, but their relationship is not encompassing with the natural world,” she says. Forest bathing can unlock new perspectives, even for those who may have already thought of themselves as “environmentalists.”
Immersion of one’s senses in the natural world, a crucial component of this experience, can serve as inspiration for people to reconnect with nature.
This mindful practice can help people cultivate an “ecological consciousness,” Stacey suggests. Through contemplation in the forest, folks can begin to realize their interdependence with the Earth and their place within the cosmos. This realization, combined with the positive impact of forest bathing on cortisol levels and its benefits for physical and mental wellbeing, offers an opportunity for people to relax and be comforted. Forest therapy guides like Stacey create safe and meaningful spaces for this to occur, but participants’ own interaction with their natural environment is the true source of their healing.
Stacey hopes forest bathing will continue to gain acceptance in this country as more people begin to realize the numerous benefits it can provide. As Cote says, “There are many ways to heal, and it is often a combination of practices that facilitate the journey.” Forest bathing presents new opportunities for healing, not just for improving one’s own physical and mental wellbeing, but also to restore the intrinsic connections between humans and all life on Earth.
Ecological research has been central to Highstead’s mission since its founding some four decades ago. So, while it’s not unusual to see scientists working in Highstead’s woods, it is unusual when that research is being conducted by a junior in high school. And it’s even more unusual when the subject of the study is—drumroll, please—moths.
That’s right, moths. You know, those little bugs famous for turning sweaters into Swiss cheese.
But to Lukas Keras, moths are fascinating creatures, and surprisingly understudied, especially compared to their more popular butterfly cousins. Only 16 years old and already something of a lepidoptera expert, he spent the better part of last year surveying and documenting the moth species that call Highstead home.
Lukas Keras used several methods to survey moths at Highstead, including this light trap. Photo Credit: Lukas Keras
Scientists have described a staggering number of moth species worldwide—more than 160,000; nine times the number of butterfly species. Keras found 401 moth species at Highstead. Still, there are likely species that have yet to be discovered, and more to learn about the known species.
“There are many moths that nobody knows what the caterpillar looks like or what it feeds on,” he says. “You literally could discover something new in your backyard.”
Keras grew up in an outdoorsy family who cultivated his love of nature from a young age. “I’d spend summers outside catching bugs and eventually I learned how to identify them and which plants they’re associated with,” he says. “It fascinated me that there’s that much out there. Even if you’re not discovering something new to science, it always feels like a discovery when you find something that you’ve never seen before. That has always really attracted me.”
In 2022, Keras discovered the first tearful underwing moth (Catocala lacrymosa) ever recorded in the state of Connecticut. Later that same day, he found the first sad underwing moth (Catocala maestosa) in Fairfield County. The specialization of each species—whether it’s their dependency on a specific caterpillar host plant or distinct behavioral traits—can make it difficult to find and photograph moths, he says.
All photos taken by Lukas Keras.
BLINDED SPHINX MOTH CATERPILLAR (Paonias excaecatus) This caterpillar was found on White Meadowsweet (Spirea alba) at Highstead.
BLINDED SPHINX MOTH (Paonias excaecata) This beautiful species can be difficult to photograph because adults are active very late at night. At Highstead, where they are common, individuals were never attracted to the lights before 2 a.m.
PINK STREAK MOTH (Dargida rubripennis) This is the rarest species Keras found at Highstead. It is listed as a species of special concern in Connecticut.
LUNA MOTH (Actias luna) There is likely a reproducing population of luna moths at Highstead given the abundance of the larval food plant (hickory) and the multiple individuals observed during the survey.
CROWNED SLUG MOTH (Isa textula) This is among Highstead’s most unusual caterpillars. Slug Caterpillars lack prolegs (the many "feet" most caterpillars have) and, as a result, they glide across a leaf on a bed of silk. It is flattened and bears many spines on the edges, giving it the appearance of a crown when viewed from above.
SADDLEBACK CATERPILLAR (Acharia stimuli) This is one of Connecticut's few venomous caterpillars. It is relatively uncommon in the state; only two caterpillars of this species were found at Highstead.
BROWN-HOODED OWLET MOTH (Cucullia convexipennis) Many caterpillars that feed on poisonous plants have bright, flashy aposematic or "warning" coloration. While the Brown-Hooded Owlet is not known to feed on poisonous plants, birds that have learned to avoid the vibrant aposematic toxic caterpillars may avoid eating these brightly colored caterpillars as well.
Keras uses several methods to survey moths, the most common being a simple UV light and bed sheet. Moths see in ultraviolet light, so lamps with a higher UV output, like the mercury vapor lamps Keras uses, work best for attracting moths. He also assembles bucket traps filled with cardboard and egg cartons that he leaves out overnight. Moths, attracted by the UV light, become “trapped” in the bucket and nestle into the cardboard for the night. In the morning, Keras picks up the bucket and photographs the resting moths.
“The good thing about the overnight light traps is it captures stuff you might have otherwise missed, including the moth that’s flying at 4 a.m.,” he says.
“Even if you’re not discovering something new to science, it always feels like a discovery when you find something that you’ve never seen before.” Lukas Keras
Keras also uses fermenting fruit and molasses, which mimics tree sap, to attract moths that are not drawn to light.
Photo Credit: Lukas Keras
“There are a lot of species that can’t be attracted by light but can be attracted by these fermenting fruit baits, and the other way around. Several moths don’t feed as adults at all so you’ll never find them with bait, but you will find them with a light trap survey,” he says. “That’s why it’s important to use both methods when you’re conducting a survey like I did at Highstead.”
Other moths may be found either free-flying or during their larvae stage. “If you walk through the woods in the right season with a UV flashlight, the caterpillars will glow and you can pick them out,” Keras says. “I found a lot of species at Highstead using the UV flashlight.”
Keras sampled the same sites at Highstead several times a month between May and November. “It’s important to do a season-long survey,” he insists. “The more you go to a site, the better you understand what species are there.”
One key to discovering moths is to locate their caterpillar host plants, species-specific plants upon which developing larvae depend. Put simply, without the host plant you will likely never find the moth. The relationship between a particular species and its host plant, or plants as the case may be, can be very specific, say, a host plant that is growing in a wet area, or on a well-drained slope. Take, for example, the huckleberry sphinx moth (Paonias astylus), which feeds almost exclusively on highbush blueberries, a common sight throughout the state.
“The moth is completely restricted to east of the Connecticut River and only in acidic habitats, specifically on sandy soil,” Keras says. “So, unless it’s in that specific habitat, even if there are blueberries, the moth is not going to be there.”
This dependency on specific host plants makes moths particularly susceptible to environmental change, including global warming. “Very few species are able to adapt to feed on a different plant,” Keras says. “Often, if the host plant is gone, the species is gone as well.”
In addition to his research at Highstead, Keras has conducted lepidopteran surveys for the towns of Ridgefield and Colebrook, and is a member of the Connecticut Entomological Society. He’s particularly interested in rare or declining habitats, such as sandplains and ridgetops, and hopes to become a professional scientist someday.
“My dream is to do something with entomology, examining how this interconnected web works, especially on the level of insects and moths,” he says. “There’s more to know, and that’s what I love about them.”
The Virginia Grassland Bird Initiative, Northeast Bird Habitat Conservation Initiative, and Cornell Land Trust Bird Conservation Initiative are hosting a Conservation Speed Dating Training Webinar. October Greenfield of the Virginia Grassland Bird Initiative will walk participants through hosting a Conservation Speed Dating Workshop to help landowners plan their conservation and land management.
Conservation Speed Dating is a fun, creative way to connect landowners with conservation professionals. This accessible forum enables conservationists to share expertise, answer questions, and assist landowners in mapping out conservation plans for their own properties.
This webinar is open to anyone who works with landowners or partners on conservation planning. It will be recorded.
For more information about NBHCI or the webinar, contact co-coordinators Katie Blake (kblake@highstead.net) and Sara Barker (sb65@cornell.edu).
Dicken Crane was destined to become a conservationist. “I was born into it,” he says. “My great-grandfather’s grandfather came to Dalton to build a paper mill. The original incentive to acquire land was to protect the watershed that provided hydropower to run the mills. My great-grandfather and other family members were interested in the agricultural, forestry, and wildlife benefits that came from protecting the watershed, and that tradition continues four generations later.”
A woodland owner hosts a walk with the Woodlands Partnership where he has worked to plan for and adopt sustainable management practices for his forest. Photo by Lisa Hayden.
Today Crane owns and manages a thousand acres of forestland and 200 acres of farmland, including Holiday Brook Farm, a diversified farm in Dalton, Massachusetts. He also serves as board chair of the Woodlands Partnership of Northwest Massachusetts, a Regional Conservation Partnership (RCP) encompassing 21 towns in the northwest corner of the state.
“Northwest Massachusetts is a very forested region, and it’s identified as a priority in both the State Forest Action Plan and federally recognized as an important area,” says Lisa Hayden, administrative agent for the Partnership, which began in 2013 as an advisory committee focused on forest conservation. At the time, the U.S. Forest Service was considering expanding Vermont’s Green Mountain National Forest into the Commonwealth.
“The region has many towns with more than 50% state-owned land, so it didn’t seem like a good idea to add more state land,” says Crane. “And there was a lot of concern over the viability of the small towns and a decline in the rural, natural resource-based economies. The sustainability was in jeopardy.”
In 2018, the organization became a legal entity under the name “Mohawk Trail Woodlands Partnership.” The New England Forestry Foundation currently serves as both a fiscal sponsor and administrator overseeing daily operations in support of the 30-member board, which includes representatives from municipalities, land trusts, regional planning agencies, economic development groups, UMass, and other organizations.
“When you attend our board meetings, it’s a group of local people who are very familiar with the towns; the job opportunities; the challenges, particularly in rural towns, to provide services—schools, fire services, ambulance services. Those are things that the local community understands in a way that some outside group just wouldn’t know. That’s the benefit of having a board made up of local people who intrinsically understand what’s going on,” says Crane.
In 2022, the board voted unanimously to change its name to the Woodlands Partnership of Northwest Massachusetts in response to concerns that the former name was both inaccurate (the Mohawk historically lived in what is now New York state) and “contributing to making local Indigenous folks seem more invisible.” They also expanded board membership to include Indigenous representation from the Ohketeau Cultural Center, a Nipmuc-centered, multi-tribal organization based in Ashfield. Rhonda Anderson, a Native Alaskan who grew up in northwest Massachusetts and currently serves as Western Massachusetts Commissioner on Indian Affairs, is the first Indigenous representative on the Partnership board.
“Rhonda has been a wonderful addition, helping to raise Indigenous issues of concern,” Hayden says. The Partnership has hosted walks led by Nipmuc leaders who discuss Indigenous knowledge and identify plants that are sacred to local Indigenous peoples alongside foresters who bring a more Western perspective to forest management. “It’s been a really interesting dialogue,” she says.
Thanks to support from a Forest Service grant focused on riparian restoration, parents, students, and neighbors gather at Buckland-Shelburne Elementary School to plant trees. Photo by Lisa Hayden.
The Partnership’s mission includes land conservation as well as municipal financial sustainability, rural economic development, and education and outreach goals. “The forest economy is an important part of the Partnership’s mission, making sure we have local jobs that are natural resource-based,” says Hayden.
“Rural sustainability will promote conservation,” Crane adds. “If that landscape is seen and recognized as valuable by the community, there is an incentive to conserve it.”
One of the Partnership’s priorities is to reform the Payments in Lieu of Taxes or PILOT program whereby the State reimburses municipalities for lost tax revenue. The current model, which is based on real estate values, favors more densely populated urban communities over rural ones and does not take into consideration the outdoor recreational opportunities and ecosystem services, such as carbon storage, clean water, and clean air, that forests provide.
“The rest of the state benefits from our lack of development. We have an intact forested landscape that provides all sorts of ecosystem services to the entire region, but it’s sort of at our expense because of the lack of development,” Crane says.
RCPs like the Woodlands Partnership bring communities together to address these types of regional issues. For example, the Forest Service’s Forest Legacy Program, which supports forest conservation, is now available to private landowners throughout the region thanks to the Partnership. And participating towns can apply for grants for everything from planting trees and restoring riparian habitat to improving public safety services.
“We’ve had great participation in a state-run grant program specifically aimed at the Partnership region where towns can apply for up to $25,000 for an annual grant for specific local needs,” Hayden says. “Emergency services is one of those concerns regionally, so we’re trying to help and fill gaps.”
Community members attend a recent forest walk focused on habitat restoration in Savoy, MA, co-hosted by the Dept. of Conservation & Recreation and the Woodlands Partnership. Photo by Kate Conlin.
The Partnership is also helping towns and forest managers adapt to climate change, including through a collaboration with the Northern Institute of Applied Climate Science, an arm of the Forest Service that helps forest managers develop resilience plans for the long term. The Woodlands Partnership also worked with Mass Audubon and other partners to create The Forest Center.org, a website packed with resources related to climate change, forest stewardship, and planning. It also includes Indigenous perspectives, which are often omitted from such documents.
For Crane, education is the most important benefit of being a member of the Partnership. “There’s a counterintuitive nature to nature,” Crane says. “Getting people to really understand why we’re doing what we’re doing is gonna take a lot of work. As much as it is our responsibility to protect the landscape, it is our responsibility to deal with the problems we have brought to the landscape.”
“I think that’s a strength of regionalism and the RCP concept; land trusts working together to do ever bigger and more impactful things,” Hayden says. “That’s one of the benefits of this Partnership as well. Voices can be amplified when you have your neighboring communities that are facing the same situation speaking up together.”
“There certainly needs to be more action at the larger scale, but some of the biggest needs and opportunities are at the local level.”
Mikael Cetjin, SCI Regional Coordinator
When it comes to the Staying Connected Initiative, the “think globally, act locally” motto fits.
SCI works with RCPs and other partners to conserve the 80-million-acre Northern Appalachian-Acadian region. Photo by Jeff Lougee.
An international partnership with more than 70 partner organizations, the Staying Connected Initiative, or SCI, works to conserve and restore landscape connectivity across the roughly 80-million-acre Northern Appalachian-Acadian region of the northeastern United States and southeastern Canada. The cross-border coalition, which spans six states and three provinces, involves a breadth of stakeholders, from local communities and land trusts to state and federal wildlife and transportation agencies. The results are adding up, says The Nature Conservancy’s Mikael Cejtin, SCI regional coordinator.
“We work with a lot of different partners at multiple scales,” he says. “We find as many opportunities as we can to leverage and support the work of organizations that are already out there doing the work on the ground.” While The Nature Conservancy (TNC) is the primary fiscal sponsor and coordinator of SCI, the partnership is supported and co-led by multiple partners who contribute funding and staff time.
SCI partners gather for an international summit in Montreal.
With the devastating impacts of a warming planet and biodiversity loss becoming ever more apparent, individuals can often feel impotent and frustrated. But within a coalition like SCI and the many Regional Conservation Partnerships (RCPs) working at smaller scales, the average person can have the biggest impact by going local, Cejtin says. The actions of both community-based and regional land trusts working with municipal land-use boards all add up to meaningful impacts for wildlife and our future.
“The challenges are huge. There certainly needs to be more action at the larger scale, but some of the biggest needs and opportunities are at the local level,” he says. “I work on a local conservation commission; so many important decisions are made at that scale. It’s where the rubber meets the road.”
It can be hard for people to wrap their minds around something as complex as global climate change. “It is important and usually easier to engage people around what matters to them locally,” Cejtin says. Yet SCI’s goal is also to “inspire communities to see themselves as part of a bigger network and vision.” One step above conservation commissions and below the much larger SCI, RCPs help local boards and land trusts coordinate their activities for wider impact.
The Berkshire Wildlife Linkage Partnership, for example, covers the Green Mountains to Hudson Highlands Linkage, an SCI priority linkage area for continental-scale connectivity for one of the most complex and varied habitats in southern New England. This interstate, interconnected, and sparsely developed region is “an irreplaceable link in the Appalachian Mountain chain of the Eastern United States,” according to TNC’s website. SCI partners have been working with municipalities and regional planning organizations within the Berkshire Wildlife Linkage Partnership to obtain competitive federal funding to repair and replace undersized culverts so that both water and wildlife can better pass safely.
Cejtin says these are long term cost-saving measures for communities. “People see the storms getting worse; they see all the flooding happening. We need to speak the language of economics and insurance.”
It is vital for conservationists to show communities that conservation can help solve the real-world problems they are facing. “Intact forests provide free water purification, free air conditioning, and downstream protection from flooding and erosion,” Cejtin says. Rural communities across the region also depend on unfragmented forests and connected habitat for hunting, fishing, forestry, and outdoor recreation-based tourism.
SCI partners also seek to help fulfill “30X30” policy commitments to protect and steward 30% of lands and waters by the year 2030 at different scales and in different landscapes. Cejtin says that securing connected networks of habitat and protected areas is critical for biodiversity conservation and climate adaptation in urban to rural landscapes, and that the urgency to act is now. Heeding their own call to action, this past June, SCI and its partners convened a landscape connectivity “summit” that drew high-level attention and many enthusiastic attendees.
While some species like moose and lynx need big, wild landscapes to survive, many other species, like turtles and salamanders, require habitat connections on a smaller scale and some wildlife can travel through more developed areas. “We need connected landscapes on multiple scales,” says Cejtin. “Even if you live in New Haven, Conn., your forests ultimately connect to these linkages. You’re still contributing to this larger vision. The beauty of connectivity is that it naturally makes you think of how your land connects with the neighbor’s land, the neighboring town’s land, and so on. Everything that everyone’s doing everywhere does make a difference.”
The SCI website provides resources to assist its member RCPs and others, including a library, technical and scientific documents, sample zoning language, story maps, and case studies featuring examples of completed partner projects to enhance connectivity at both local and regional scales.
For more information about the Staying Connected Initiative, contact Mikael Cejtin at mikael.cejtin@tnc.org.
The impacts of climate change are being felt worldwide as record heat waves, drought, floods, and more intense hurricanes devastate communities and livelihoods, placing additional burdens on emergency response agencies. Yet these agencies often provide little or no mental health support for people affected by such natural disasters, says Autumn Carson, Highstead Communications Associate, in her recent master’s thesis. And while conversations about the effects of the climate crisis on human health are growing, she writes, “there is a startling lack of policy or adaptation strategies addressing the role of climate change and its impacts on human mental health and psychological health.”
Autumn Carson
Carson, who recently earned a master of natural resources degree from Virginia Tech University’s Center for Leadership in Global Sustainability, shared her research findings, recommendations, and reasons for delving into a topic with scant scholarly research.
A 2022 report by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change revealed that rapidly increasing climate change poses a rising threat to mental health and psychosocial well-being, from emotional distress to anxiety, depression, grief, and suicidal ideation.
“I’m convinced this is going to be a growing topic of conversation as climate change becomes more and more disruptive to our everyday lives,” says Carson. While physical injuries and mortality rates often receive the most attention and aid funds, her research revealed the number of people who experience mental health issues due to a natural disaster often outweighs those with physical injuries by 40:1. Following climate-related events, mental health problems increase among both people with no history of mental illness and those at risk, she says.
These days, terms like eco-anxiety, eco-grief, green depression, and climate anxiety are being used to describe the impacts of climate change on the human psyche. However, a 2021 survey conducted by the World Health Organization found that only nine of 95 countries surveyed had national health and climate change plans that included mental health and psychosocial support.
Carson wants to change that. She proposes creating a new federal agency, the Department of Climate Psycho-Social Health Services (DCPHS), because, she says, “this is only going to become an increasing issue. Climate change will only invade and disrupt our lives more and more.” The agency could serve as the host organization for all state-specific behavioral and psychosocial programs, plans, and strategies. Federal funds could be used to work with existing state programs and to help develop strategies in states that don’t have them. The DCPHS could be responsible for developing standards for all statewide climate-psychosocial programs and conducting reviews at least every five years to ensure programs maintain those standards.
She proposes that DCPHS partner with the Federal Emergency Management Agency to train, equip, and deploy emergency-certified mental health professionals to areas grappling with natural disasters and/or severe climate events. DCPHS would also allocate federal funds to train first responders and other key community members, starting with cities and counties most vulnerable to climate risks.
Following Her Heart
As a passionate environmentalist and mental health advocate, Carson realized there was minimal research on the intersection of mental health and the environment, despite their interconnectedness.
“I was hungry for more, but there wasn’t more for me to get,” says Carson, who co-hosts a mental health podcast and has had her own struggles with mental illness. As a young Black woman, she’s acutely aware of the disparities within the U.S. mental healthcare system and the stigma around mental illness, especially in communities of color. “During my sophomore year of college, I had my first panic attack and couldn’t understand what was going on with me. I thought I was dying,” she says. “Growing up, mental health just wasn’t something that was talked about, and when it was, it was in a very taboo way. This is not an uncommon experience, especially for people of color and men.”
A study published by the Journal of Health of Social Behavior revealed that more than one out of every three people don’t want to be friends or neighbors with someone who has a mental illness, and nearly 70 percent of people don’t want someone with a mental illness to marry into their family, Carson writes.
Taboo keeps people from self-reporting mental illness, and the infrastructure isn’t in place to report on the mental health impacts of climate change, she says. “In order for there to be self-reporting, there has to be self-awareness, and self-awareness is more of a challenge when you aren’t equipped with the relevant knowledge, tools, or language from a young age.” While climate change impacts everyone, it disproportionately affects communities of color – the very communities most likely not to have mental health treatment due to a lack of access, stigma, or both.
According to data from the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, one in five Americans is diagnosed with a mental illness, which is likely a conservative statistic due to underreporting. And 53% of those who are diagnosed did not receive treatment within the past year, according to a Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration survey.
Case Studies
Through her research, Carson identified three communities that provided mental health support following climate-related disasters. By training community members to provide psychosocial support to survivors of such disasters, Puerto Rico, Nebraska, and Southern California communities developed multiple relevant, adaptable, culturally informed psychosocial resilience strategies to serve their residents.
These examples suggest that addressing the mental health effects of climate change is necessary and possible. She says in 10, 15, or 20 years, “we will be grateful that we established a federal program like this to handle this new issue for which there’s no existing department. I don’t think it’s as long of a shot as I originally thought. As time goes on, this will be a glaring issue, and relevant policies and strategies will need to be established.”
