
As environmental practitioners one of our common tasks is to communicate to an audience a description of the area – the environment – in which we are working. Whether we call it Project Area in an environmental assessment document, Environmental Setting in an engineering report, or Study Area in a scientific paper, this characterization of the land is a fundamental part of communicating to our audience. The account that we develop is important, providing the context for the reader to understand our work and, most importantly, our findings. To maximize the impact of this description it is important to recognize that people are, by nature, highly imaginative and visual animals; when we describe an area to our audience we can – nay, we should – create a picture in the reader’s mind’s eye. People care about what they see (hence the truism “Out of sight, out of mind”), and thus we can persuade most effectively when we create that clear picture in our reader’s mind. This description must start with our field notes. So, how do we capture the landscape in our notes to allow us to paint that picture in the reader’s mind?
In our field notes we are typically taught to document features and conditions, but rarely are we encouraged to describe them. I would like, dear reader, to here introduce you to describing as well as simply documenting. We will examine this in the same order that I do in the field or in my writing: from the ground up.
The Ground: The terrain, the relief of the land, sets the stage for all aspects of your description. From the image that you develop in a few lines describing the terrain and landscape all subsequent description flows. For example, “undulating small hills” sets a very different stage from “dissected level areas” or from “pit-and-mound topography”. To the knowledgeable reader (and we always respect our reader by assuming they are knowledgeable) these short phrases of three or four words conjure up specific images from their experience in the field: they can place themselves in that setting. When describing terrain we want to include:
- Location: Where is the area you are describing? Is it in a valley bottom, mid slope, upper reaches of a mountain, alpine… what is its elevation?
- Levelness: is the landscape level, plain, smooth, or hilly, undulating, pit-and-mound, mountainous? Is it high or low relief?
- Homogeneity: Is the area under consideration all similar or is it dissected by hills and valleys. Is it broken by outcrops and cliffs? Is the terrestrial landscape interrupted by waterways and roads?
- In winter: what are the snow conditions. What is depth of snow, type of snow (fresh powder, icy crust, slushy melting snow) and how long since last significant snowfall?
Geology and soils are important. Are there rock exposures (indicating thin soil)? Presence of erratics or another glacial feature? Geologic dikes intruding into other bedrock? For the soils we want to comment on the structure and texture (rocky, sandy, silty, loamy, organic) and drainage (saturated, well drained, poorly drained). Are slopes slumping or stable? Are there expanses unvegetated?
Not all sites have water, but if yours does it needs to be described. Is it a wetland (and if so, which type?), a pond, a lake, a stream? Are there more than one? How big is it. How distributed are these features across your area of interest? What is the stage and channel morphology of the stream?
Together the relief, the geology, the soils, and the water describe the ground upon which the reader is standing in his imagination. We want him on solid ground. We are now going to clothe that ground.
The Vegetation: Vegetation communities throughout most of North America are complex mosaics; the challenge is to reduce each to an easily communicated, yet meaningful, description of the site. To do this, consider:
The Overstory: This is the trees. We want to describe these in terms of: (i) forest type, (ii) age, and (iii) density. So, we might describe an area as “isolated young white spruce with occasional ancient, cultivated apple trees on edge of clearing adjacent to mature maple-oak forest” rather than “deciduous forest next to cleared land”. For the description I am less concerned with identifying every individual tree species and more interested in capturing the community. Is it a deciduous forest? Then what are the dominant species? Same with coniferous. Or is it a mixed-wood forest. Also consider the homogeneity. Is it homogenous over large extent or is it patchy, with individual small stands of one species intermixed in a matrix of a different species?
The Understory: While the overstory may be composed on tens of species, the understory may comprise scores. This complicates the challenges to determine what is important to include for the description. My approach is to note:
Dominant species: those forming the greatest cover. These will be valuable in my subsequent ecological classification of the landscape.
Wildlife or culturally important species: These tell us about potential, and often actual, use of the landscape and forest resources by animals and by people. Therefore, we can draw inferences from them. I note the relative abundance and use, when possible (such as light, medium, or heavy browse on willows or red osier dogwood), as that helps inform me about who may be using the landscape for what purposes. We can even determine season of use from close attention to these. Powerful observations indeed.
Indicator species: Many species are valuable as they indicate physical conditions that we should be aware of. The classic example is skunk cabbage indicating a perennially wet site. But indicator plants can indicate soil drainage or nutrient condition, climate, and a range of other features. Being aware of the indicator plants in your region, and what they indicate, will help you summarize a complex landscape into the key features.
Invasives and species at risk. Invasive species are an indicator as they tell of a history of disturbed landscape. Species at risk on the other hand are important as they indicate the opposite – a site unlikely to have been disturbed and likely requiring protection in the future.
Now, in your description, link the vegetation to the terrain. Is there a change in community between the level grounds and the valleys? Between south and north facing slopes. Does that pit-and-mound topography change as you move from the deciduous maple-oak forest into the pine-fir community? What is the role of water distribution and availability in affecting observed plant distribution? The forest and the landscape are intimately intertwined, do your field notes show some of those connections?
The wildlife: In wandering your site, noting the terrain, the ground, the water, and the vegetation, don’t forget to pay attention for wildlife. Keep an eye out for visual sightings of common birds and mammals; watch for sign of the more cryptic or uncommon species. Listen for birds and amphibians calling (or their absence, itself a telling sign). As with plants we are here paying particular attention for culturally important, invasives, and species at risk.
Your landscape description then comes from the notes you have collected in the field on all the described attributes. In your description, again to develop that image in the reader’s mind, appeal to your senses. Describe it visually, auditorily, olfactorily. Your notes are simply to remind you of what the site looked, heard, and smelled like; you want to translate those so the reader can see and feel the same things you did when standing on site.
Note the use of verbs in the above text to describe a site, things are dissected, interrupted, undulating, broken. These are powerful words implying rapid changes between conditions. If I observed smooth and gradual changes, I might use words such as blending, joining, transitioning, etc. The verbs allow me to indicate the sharpness of transitions. Words are your strongest ally in your writing; use them strategically and well.
I trust, dear reader, that some of these suggestions will ring true with you. We all must determine our own style, of course, but I hope to, at the very least, point you in a useful direction. For as George Bernard Shaw said, “I am not a teacher: only a fellow traveler of whom you asked the way. I pointed ahead – ahead of myself as well as you.”
~Sean Mitchell