Hydroecology of Springs with Dr. Abe Springer

Fig. 1: Rattelesnake Creek in Greenough Park, at location of our field excursion with Dr. Springer


This week we had the opportunity to learn from Dr. Abe Springer, an ecohydrolgist from Northern Arizona University. After a lecture at UM, we headed to the field where Springer taught about specific protocols for measuring the health of springs. Springs usually have quite a bit more biodiversity than other areas, with several species being reliant on the spring for part of their lives. One thing that makes them particularly special is the fact that they are found where groundwater and surface water interact, this often leads to areas that have warmer water in the winter than the surrounding surface water.

Fig. 2: Abe Springer lectures at UM about spring geology, hydrology, and ecology!

The method that Abe showed us to analyze springs was a very multi-disciplinary approach. In the first part of the outing we covered how to create a general overview of the site, including site and land information, weather conditions, and a detailed site map. The methods that were used were surprisingly similar to the methods that WEN uses to sample our Stream Team surface water sites. After the site was mapped and described, we split into four teams to do more specific sampling, with local experts leading each station. These also looked very similar to Stream Team.

Fig 3 and 4: Students survey the area of interest in Greenough Park. On right, UM Geology Student and WEN intern, Aaron Henderson, speaks with UM Hydrology Professor Bill Woessner

Deb and I of WEN led a bug collection, which was actually quite difficult in the area. The spring in Greenough Park is very low flowing this time of year, and most of the bugs were more like pond species (flatworms, threadworms, crane-flies, riffle beetles etc.). We sampled both near the mouth of the spring, where it hit the trail, and its headwaters, about 50 feet up the hillside. Another group led a chemistry analysis (dissolved oxygen, pH, temp, specific conductivity) as well as a measure of flow. A third group, led by Vicki Watson, looked at the vegetation community present at the site, identifying as many species as possible. The final group was mostly geology students from the UM, including WEN intern Aaron Henderson. They looked at the geology of the site to form a better picture of how the spring was formed.

Fig. 5: Bug collection, as seen above, looks a bit different than when we collect from the streams!

After each group finished up their sampling we got together into a large group and shared our findings. All of this information got combined into one dataset to be entered into the Springs database, springstewardshipinstitute.org .

Science Friday: Stream Velocity

Happy Science Friday! Today we will be learning about stream velocity - the speed in which the river flows over a period of time. This variable is crucial in understanding the biological makeup of the river, as some organisms need fast flows and others need stiller pools. 

The velocity of the stream is directly related to how much water is flowing through, which is why monitoring this variable is important, as it’s always changing! As snow melts during the spring, more water is flowing to our streams creating a faster velocity. The end of summer and fall marks much lower streams and slower velocities. 

Other than the biological makeup of the stream, velocity also determines the amount of sediment that is carried by the stream. Faster streams will cause sediment to be suspended in the water column and thus carried further, whereas slower streams will allow sediment to settle to the bottom.

Fig. 1 Bends and turns in the stream’s channel provide variation in flow, thus variation in habitability. 

The speed of water also relates to last week’s Science Friday topic, dissolved oxygen (DO)! With a faster stream, more ambient oxygen will be aerated into the water causing an increase in DO levels.  

Stream Teams with WEN test velocity of Rattlesnake Creek every Sunday! We do this by marking a beginning and end of the section we are monitoring, and timing how fast it takes for a tennis ball - mimicking a molecule of water -  to reach the other end, as seen below:

I 

Porosity and Permeability

 

It is truly amazing that the Missoula Valley Aquifer can support more than 40,000 households! Do you ever wonder how all that groundwater moves around and gets stored below our feet? This science friday we are going to dive into properties of earth materials that allow this water to be present underground.

When you think of groundwater, what do you envision? A big pool or cave underground? I know I did growing up as a kiddo. I imagined digging deep enough that I would eventually dig my way to an underground cave. Although those do exist, most groundwater is stored in the tiny spaces in-between sand and gravel. Porosity and permeability control the distribution of water in these rocks.

The processes of earth materials that allows water to move underground is Permeability is a measure of the ability of a material to allow fluids to pass through it, and porosity is a measure of how much of the volume of a material is open space. Although there are many other variables that influence these processes...

The material with highest porosity (most open space) is clay, with those small little absorbent pieces. Sand and gravel have less porosity. What affects permeability is not just overall amount of space, but how big and well connected the individual spaces are. That’s why sand and gravel are more permeable than clay.

Understanding how earth materials allow water to be present underground helps us understand how we get our clean water! Join WEN for the continuation of Montana Groundwater Academy’s well elevation data collection to learn more about the water under our feet!

Information sourced from (1) MGA curriculum, (2) City of Missoula: Missoula Valleys Sole Source Aquifer, (3) Porosity & Permeability: Geosciences (on youtube). First two photos from WEN, final from educatorspages.com.

Finding Home By Taylor Tewksbury

     Beaver pond below horse bridge on Upper Rattlesnake 
     Taken by Taylor Tewksbury 

"It smells like butterscotch." 

After an afternoon of Nordic skiing in the Rattlesnake, I collapsed across the carpet of my new room. With a phone pressed to my ear, I attempted to describe the smell of the forest air to a friend back east. 

"Or maybe it's Vanilla. I can't quite put my finger on it." 

When I moved to Missoula in December of 2019, I was surrounded for the first time by forests of ponderosa pine. Mixed with the scent of fresh snow, the smell of ponderosas was novel. Yet, it triggered an oddly familiar instinct to pause. Growing up in upstate New York, I rarely disobeyed the gentle command of a mountain breeze to stop mid-trail. 

"Just breath," it seemed to whisper. 

As a reward, the breeze offered the aroma of balsam fir, which was simultaneously sharp and sweet as it filled my nose. Skiing through the ponderosas of Rattlesnake, I realized I was inhaling a forest rooted a thousand miles from the trees of my youth. And while I heeded that familiar urge to pause, I was still a stranger in this place. 

Since moving to Montana, I've been preoccupied with the idea of "finding home" in a landscape. Exploring new trails, it initially felt strange to be surrounded by plants I did not recognize. Where were the sugar maples? Where were the oak? While I was in awe of Montana's beauty, nostalgia had taken root somewhere deep in my stomach. When I began my graduate studies at UM in 2021, I suddenly found myself surrounded by people who shared my curiosity towards the subject. In a course on restoration ethics, we discussed the force behind emotions as powerful as nostalgia for place. However, due to their highly personal nature, these conversations about person-place relationships yielded more questions than answers. What does it mean to be "from" a place? An what does it mean to know it? Can we still build meaningful relationships with landscapes we weren't born to? What does it mean to be home? 

In her 2013 book, Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Kimmerer offers her own answers to form meaningful relationships with our landscape, Kimmerer (2013) challenges readers to "live as if we were staying" (p.207). She challenges us to exercise a mindset of commitment. 

Since the beginning my internship with WEN this semester, "finding home" has become weekly trips to Rattlesnake Creek. On crisp mornings, "finding home" is a walk (read: skate) up the icy trail that leads to the new beaver dam. It is a crumpled photo survey protocol fished from my jacket pocket. It is an observation scribbled by frozen fingers. Through this exercise in commitment, I've witnessed the beaver dam transform through the seasons, adding layers to my relationship with the creek. In January, I saw skins of ice form across mossy boulders. I watched water rush over piles of sticks and branches—a food cache submerged by some sharp-toothed engineers. In February, that same water disappeared under a foot of snow. In March, the pool above the dam was revealed by the warming sun. I grinned upon noticing the pair of Canada geese that had returned to float. Through the noise of discordant honks, I caught the sound of a kingfisher chattering down the stream corridor. A couple of weeks ago, I watched intently as two American dippers flitted through a courtship display. The female was unimpressed. Now, as the end of the semester nears, I return each week to see another rock has been overcome by the rising water of spring. These visits to the dam have become a valued breath.

Despite the stress it induces, I have graduate school to thank for my experience with WEN. I first learned about WEN at a tabling event during the Environmental Studies program. After speaking with Deb about the organization’s dedication to citizen science, I was quickly hooked. That fall, I spent several Sundays out with stream team, back arched over ice cube trays of macroinvertebrates. Gripping a plastic spoon in one hand, and wielding a pipet in the other, we chased mayflies in circles around a white tub of stream water. The larvae navigated the little habitat far more gracefully than our clumsy human instruments could, evading the pull of the pipet with their incredible (and at times frustrating) ability to cling.

“Mayfly!”

“Stonefly!”

“Platyhelminthes!”

We rejoiced as another flatworm was spotted in the stringy organic debris. Surrounded by this community of citizen scientists, with each new identification, I felt like less of a stranger in this forest.

While I’ve learned the names of bugs and welcomed the birds of spring, I know my connection to this place must continue to grow. My family does not have historic ties to this landscape. I will never know the deep relation fostered through the time-old stewardship of this stream. However, my internship with WEN has helped me feel at home amongst the trees of Rattlesnake. All I can do is continue to learn about this place, forming a meaningful relationship with it in the process. In doing so, I hope to be able to care for the landscape that has welcomed me in. So, as I pull on my backpack and head towards the dam this morning, I am grateful to WEN (and the beavers) for allowing me to continue this exercise of “finding home.” As I walk down the trail, I pause and am surrounded by the scent of butterscotch.

Or maybe it’s vanilla?

 

Kimmerer, R. W. (2013). Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants. Milkweed Editions.

 

Stream Flow as a Climate Change Indicator

Stream Flow as a Climate Indicator: 

What does a healthy high flow look like? 

By Brook Bauer 

Map 1: Timing of Spring Runoff in the United States 1940-2018

By EPA 

Graph 1: DNRC Rattlesnake Stream Gauge recorded discharge rate from 2000-2022.

Graph 2: DNRC Rattlesnake Stream Gauge recorded discharge rate and water temperature 2000-2022. 

 For this Science Friday we are going to dive a little bit deeper into streamflow on the Rattlesnake Creek. We explore what a typical discharge rate looks like and how it will change with the pressing impacts of climate change. 

The map included in this post is highlighting an analysis conducted on parts of the country where streamflow is strongly influenced by snowmelt. You can see that Montana fits into the analysis area. This map is showing the changes in the timing of annual high winter-spring runoff carried by rivers and streams from 1940 to 2018 (so a few years back but still a good representation of what increase of snowmelt can look like) (1). 

Now let us zoom in a lot, all the way to the Rattlesnake Creek. By accessing the DNRC stream gauge data, we can see what the discharge has been over the past few years (2020-2022).The first graph is showing, alone, the discharge rate. The second graph shows how temperature fluctuates with changing discharge rates (2). 

Streamflow naturally varies over the course of a year. High-flow periods typically occur in the spring as the snow melts, and then the lowest flow periods run into the summer (as represented in the graphs). The amount of streamflow is important because very high flows can cause erosion and damaging floods, while very low flows can diminish water quality, harm fish, and reduce the amount of water availability for people to use (1). 

The timing of high flow periods is important because it affects the ability of a watershed to preserve and hold some of the water from these high-flows. Migratory species are also impacted by this, as they depend on particular patterns of stream flow as part of their life cycle (1). 

Climate change affects streamflow by changing the amount of spring snowpack, and air temps that influence the size and timing of high flow periods. More precipitation also will likely cause higher stream flows. And droughts, as they become more frequent and severe, could have the possibility of reducing stream flow in certain areas (1). 

Right now we are seeing the high discharge rates happening earlier and earlier on the Rattlesnake Creek and surrounding rivers. It is important to keep an eye on these gauges and continue monitoring to try to find ideas or solutions that will make our communities more resilient to the pressing impacts of climate change and how it will affect our Montana Waters. 

 

Sources: 

1. https://www.epa.gov/climate-indicators/climate-change-indicators-streamflow

2. https://gis.dnrc.mt.gov/apps/stage/gage-report/location/bbc1c75b738446e3843baed619b1cd8c/1489964400000-1648594740000/

Snowmelt: How it gets into our creeks

Animation by Brook Bauer 

 Science Friday! Today we will be exploring how snowmelt gets into our creeks, streams, and rivers. 

The life that snow lives is typically determined by weather systems, vegetation and terrain. However, weather systems (specifically temperatures) are the most important factor that determines when snow will melt. Once it gets above freezing (32 Degrees Fahrenheit /0 Degrees Celsius), it’s time for that snow to turn to water! (1). 

Then solar radiation happens, transported by long wave radiation, along with wind transfer of heat, ground heat (conduction), and heat transferred during rainfall all impact the cooling and heating of snowpack (1). From this point, the rapid melting will need a place to go. It could slowly infiltrate into the frozen soil, runoff into streams and other bodies of water, or even freeze or pool (if in a small quantity), or maybe even a combination of everything(1).

Rapid melting can most definitely create a great deal of runoff, of which, in the winter, cannot typically infiltrate into the frozen soil as easily as in the spring. When the rapid melting makes its way into a river, two primary processes can occur: One, replenishing our aquifer and streams and rivers. Good! Two, it can cause sedimentation, meaning that a bunch of rocks, dirt, debris is getting carried downstream (which is bad in excess). Or sometimes both. 

Runoff is ultimately good, but in moderation. We live in a world with a changing climate, where we are seeing more fluctuations in temperatures in the winter months, causing changes in our snowpack, and changes in our rivers. That is why it is important to monitor these changes in our creeks, streams, and rivers. WEN is interested to see how change in snowpack will impact the Rattlesnake over the next few years, and will be keeping a keen eye on the physical, chemical, and biological properties of the stream in our Stream Team Monitoring.  

A friendly note: When WEN posts a Science Friday topic, we are not claiming to be the experts on the subject or topic, this is simply a space for exploration of ideas, concepts and different systems. However, we are active participant in gauging stream health, specifically within the Rattlesnake Creek, and hold some expertise in watershed health, education, and science. We are always open to criticism/feedback, and/or if you are an expert and want to offer up some of your expertise on a topic we cover we would love to hear your thoughts! Just email us at communications@montanawatershed.org. 

What we do as scientists is gather the evidence we need to see patters to try to make sense of the complex and fascinating systems that we live in. That's the great thing about science right?!

Information sourced from (1) NOAA Flood Science/Snow Melt Process Infographic (2) NOAA National Severe Storms Laboratory (3) Simulation of spatial variability in snow and frozen soil, Published in the Journal of Geophysical Research (2003). 

A winter walk near the creek

looking above the beaver dam from the right 

side of the creek.

After a long day, I slowly slogged my way out of my former bar job, feeling too exhausted to go on a run, ski or bike. The skies surprised me with a radiant array of blues and whites and even a little sparkle of yellow and pink. It was at this moment that I knew I needed to be accompanied by the comfort of the creek. 

It's interesting the work I do for WEN, as their communication coordinator, especially in the winter, I find that there is a disconnect for me in connecting the work I do to the places we're working to protect.  I usually work from home, designing new graphics and writing stories about WEN and the fabulous work our team does. 

On this day, I felt a deep pull to the Rattlesnake Creek. 

When I stepped out of my car I took a deep breath and felt revitalized by the cool crisp air. Breath has an amazing way of grounding you and connecting you to the present place. I held on to this breath, appreciating the serenity of my surroundings and the vast evergreen forest beckoning me. 

Geared with a headlamp and a nice warm beverage, my partner, Carver, and I, walked towards the darkening evergreen abis. Trying to be mindful of the nordic tracks, we stayed in the middle of the trail. Things were starting to darken at this point and I heard the little voices of the forest. A hoot from an owl, the little squeaks of the chipmunks playing a game of chase up and down the trunk of a douglas fir. All of this movement was accompanied by the rushing sound of the Rattlesnake Creek.

On and on we went, and I couldn't help but feel immensely grateful to have such easy access to a place so alive. Alive in a different way from that of a city. There its a simplicity to how the natural world exists, a slowness and peacefulness that detaches you from the everyday hustle of the city. Even in a city as small as Missoula. 

Eventually we ended up at the horse bridge, our stopping point. As we looked down in the dusk of the night, a story unraveled. A complex intricate system, a beaver dam. 

You see, I have learned about beavers in school, simply learning that they have immense benefits for aquatic ecosystems. I have also  talked with my dad extensively about his home football team, the ducks biggest rivals being with the beavers, and that is about the extent of what I know about beavers. Beyond these introductions to their importance and their association with football teams, I had never gotten to really appreciate them until the WEN world fostered a sense of curiosity for all things connected in the creek. 

Beavers are amazing mammals, they are architects and stewards of the environment. Beavers also have interesting adaptations to endure winter conditions. They make large wood lodges where they can store their food and sleep (above the water line) so they can keep warm. Generally, they stay pretty warm due to their thick layers of fat and dense coat.

As I watched in awe, the sky suddenly became dark with the little glimmer of stars peaking out. We figured that now we should probably head back and make some dinner.

After this adventure many others followed that week up to the beaver dam, in the slightest hope to fulfill my mere undying expectation to see a little beaver friend in person. Even if I return without a sighting, which I have every time, I always walk away feeling a little bit more grounded, with a spark ignited in me about why I am so passionate about protecting these natural systems and the stories they tell.