My journey to the Umpqua National Forest began in Tucson, Arizona, just as summer temperatures were beginning to soar above 100°F—truly perfect timing. As I traversed through Nevada, the landscape stretched out into endless desert, a stark contrast to the lush greenery that awaited me in northern California and Oregon. Having lived my entire life amidst the color palette of earthy reds, oranges, and browns of southern Arizona, the sudden transition to Oregon’s verdant scenery felt like stepping into another world entirely. Towering trees and dense foliage surrounded me upon my arrival, hiding rivers, lakes, and waterfalls within their depths. Mosses, ferns, and wildflowers thrive beneath the canopy, painting the forest floor with bursts of color.

My experience thus far working in the Umpqua National Forest has been both magical and educational. Coming into this internship with limited knowledge of plant physiology and identification, I initially felt a bit nervous. However, any uncertainty quickly dissipated when I met my coworkers and incredible supervisor. Working alongside such kind and knowledgeable botanists who patiently answer my questions has not only allowed me to learn a wealth of new information in just two weeks but has also been an absolute delight. The sense of community and welcoming atmosphere here is truly remarkable. I deeply appreciate the effort they put into planning group gatherings and events, especially for those of us who are far from home and may feel a bit lonely during this internship.

During my short time here, I’ve learned to identify numerous native species that call this forest home, some of which we will later collect seeds from. I’ve also been sharpening my hiking, navigation, and mapping skills. Furthermore, I’ve been gaining valuable experience in restoration work, including identifying and properly removing invasive species.

In the past few weeks, I’ve seen some of the most breathtaking sights and more stunning wildflowers and vegetation than I have in my entire life. It’s still surreal to me that I get to spend my summer in this beautiful place, and I’m eagerly looking forward to embarking on new adventures and absorbing more knowledge each day!

The field season has just begun and there is so much to be done. We have had the opportunity to participate in a few field surveys with the botanist crew on our forest, during which time we have been scouting for potential seed collection populations. Last week in particular, we scouted along the way to a botanist survey that needed to be completed alongside the dam of a small mountain lake. That’s how I learned that the word “road” is used very loosely by forest service folk. Personally, I think the term “rocky hill of death” might be more applicable for this particular instance, but hey, what do I know? I’m just an intern.

The following week, after we gave our internal organs time to settle back into their rightful places, we pursued some coordinates for potential seed collection populations. These we obtained from looking at local herbarium records. We were able to track down a population of Penstemon eatonii. This was particularly exciting because at least 100 times before we had enthusiastically announced that we spotted populations of Penstemon eatonii from the car, only to find upon exiting the car that they were actually Scarlet Star Gilia. Unfortunately, the Penstemon eatonii population was too small for seed collection, but it was a productive trip, nonetheless.

Upon similar scouting ventures, we were lucky to find many harvestable populations for seed collection. To date, we have harvestable populations for the following species: Lomatium grayi, Lomatium dissectum, Lomatium triternatum, Balsamorhiza sagittate. Artemisia tridentata, Purshia tridentata, Eriogonum umbellatum, and Eriogonum heracleoides. Now that we have scouted the populations, it’s simply a matter of checking up on them periodically so as not to miss the ideal collection period.

Last week, we completed our first seed harvest which was of Lomatium grayi. The collection went well, although it was taxing work because it was so hot that day. The population itself was somewhat small so it only took us a few hours to collect 20% of the available seed. It’s so exciting to have finally harvested. I hope that those little seeds go on to produce many more native seeds to aid in restoration projects across the forest. Currently, the seeds are laid out to dry in our office, gracing us with a fragrant celery-like smell. Thank you Apiaceae.

Perhaps one of my favorite experiences of the internship thus far, came in the form of an element occurrence survey. We were asked to check up on a population of Brownie Lady’s Slippers (Cypripedium fasciculatum) that was put in our GIS system several years ago. The species is on our sensitive species list for the forest. The trip to get there was long and often felt treacherous. Again, I learned that the word “road” is relative around here. Once at the top of the mountain it was only a short hike to the survey location. It was clear that the fuels crew had been working in this area in months past, so we had concerns about being able to find the Lady’s Slippers. However, we were happy to see that the small population is still thriving and that it has migrated up the slope a little. As a budding botanist, finding rare plants feels akin to finding rare gems, and always warrants a photo opt.

Our Lomatium dissectum population should be ready to harvest either this week or next. Until then, we will continue scouting for more populations and monitoring the ones that we already have.

As a lifetime east-coaster, moving across the country to Detroit, Oregon was exciting yet daunting. The Pacific Northwest was only known to me through movies (Twilight) and TV shows (Gravity Falls) – each strange in their own right. Basically to say, my expectations for Oregon were big trees, lots of moss, and maybe a vampire or two. The first two criteria were met quickly upon my arrival. As we entered the forest, I squished my nose against the passenger window trying to see the tops of the reigning conifers that lined the highways. The trees became cities with moss skyscrapers dangling from the branches and sprawling lichen suburbia along the bark. As we took the next turn, I turned to look out the front, only to be met with a landscape of devastation. The lush forest turned into a sea of scorched trees. The tree cities became post-apopalyptic, and only the skeletons of the infrastructure remained.

I knew that the forest I would be working in had experienced huge fires in 2020, but it was difficult to imagine the extent without seeing it. The next couple of weeks working in the Willamette National Forest would be drenched in fire talk. Every explanation and description seemed to be sandwiched in between some version of “before the fire” and “because of the fire.” The district I work in had 46% of its forest burned in 2020. One of the major fires of 2020 happened overnight. The fire started miles away and hit a gust of wind that blew it across the hills in a matter of hours. My coworker told me that no one could have predicted it because the area where it happened had high precipitation and moisture year round. Every model and expert denied a fire of this extent would hit the forest.

I’m usually someone who tries to see the beauty in everything, especially when it comes to nature. However, I’m beginning to question if this philosophy can apply here. Should I be trying to find a silver lining in devastation, or should I take the lack of one as a cautionary tale? During my first week here, I was able to get out into some of the burned areas, or “the black” in technical talk. It’s eerie. For miles all you see is blackened trees and mountains covered in gray sticks. Giant trees lay across the ground, charred on the outside, but the wood inside is still tan (to me they looked like big ol’ hot dogs (vegan friendly!) left over the fire too long… my coworkers did not agree). To an unassuming eye it might just look like a dreary winter landscape, but the pockets of green, lush rainforest are a constant reminder of what this landscape fostered only years ago.

There are only a handful of natives here that thrive in disturbed areas, but many invasives have been quick to take advantage of the disaster. Since we (myself and my two other coworkers, Ella and Katie) are here to collect native seeds, the number of invasives can be a bit disheartening, especially when you see how much effort goes into eradicating them. Some of them, like scotch broom, Cytisus scoparius, grow like a hydra – you kill a hundred and the next season they seem to only double. A cross section of the soil underneath would reveal the secret of their doubling act – a seed bank. Beneath the surface are horizons of seeds only waiting for their time to grow, and in doing so, they keep us on the defensive. Once the seed bank is established its pretty much impossible to eradicate the species, and it makes it even harder for native plants to become established.

The invasive species and general fire damage provide a constant reminder of why our work is important. The fires and disasters aren’t going to stop, so the more we can prepare, the better we can restore these ecosystems. I look forward to getting to know the forest as we scout and collect native seeds, and, on sunny days, I’m still keeping my eyes peeled for any glittering vampires, hoping (fearing?) they didn’t all burn up in the fire. 

The journey started when I left my sweet college town of Manhattan, Kansas. I packed up my Ford Fusion, filled a bucket of ice to supplement my broken AC, and set off west to Willamette National Forest. As I looked through my rearview mirror, the cornfields faded away behind me, and the forest area that I would call home for the next six months appeared through my window.

Once I got to the town of Detroit, Oregon, I was amazed by how beautiful the forest looked. Driving through the valley, I had an amazing view of Mount Jefferson and the neighboring mountains. When I arrived at the Bunkhouse, I arranged my things, said hi to my roommate Ash, and made a list of things to get from the store the next day with my other roommate, Katie. I realized things were about to be a lot different. The town was an hour away, which required planning for meals and other necessities, something I was not used to. On the way into town, we stopped at the gas station, where we were approached by a man who came up to the car. Katie screamed in fright, as one does, at the man, and that’s how we found out you don’t pump your own gas in Oregon—another thing we both were not familiar with.

Our mentor Heidi took us to the area they call “the black,” where the forest was burnt down. This was an intense sight to see because so much of the forest burned down in 2020. Heidi showed us all the things the fire impacted, such as invasive species that started to grow in the burned areas and take over the once diverse forest landscape. Throughout the week, we did more training and hiking through the forest. We saw many cool sights, including waterfalls, snow on the mountains, and even a bear. Since starting work, we have done lots of reading and learning about the native species in the area so we can be prepared for when we go out and start collecting seed. Oregon has many more different plants and insects than I am familiar with, but it has been fun to learn about all the new species out here!

On our off time Katie, Ash, and I have visited Portland, hiked more around the Willamette, went to Silver Falls, played board games, visited some lakes, and went to the Oregon coast. It’s been an awesome first month getting to travel around with Ash, and Katie and can’t wait for our next adventures!

I am currently 1400 miles away from the place I spent roughly 80% of my life. From northern Minnesota where I was a 3 hour drive to the Canada border to Ruidoso New Mexico, where I’m the same distance to the border of Mexico. It’s been a life changing voyage all packed into such a short time, and one that doesn’t seem to have a specific destination in mind. I’ve stopped for periods of time to work, mostly to gain some skills and knowledge, some to survive, and best of all, for fun. Ultimately I’ve landed on a profession in the great outdoors where the only thing that beats the amazing individuals you’ll meet are the lunch break views.

In my mind, I got lucky. I was just following seasonal jobs that seemed like a fun way to be outdoors and learn a few skills. Up till now I’ve spent the last 2 seasons removing invasive plant species with herbicide and chainsaws. It’s been good hard work but I’ve always thought about what happens after? Are the organizations I’m working for come back and do anything with these areas we’ve impacted? Or are they just left for the next crew the next season to come back and repeat the process. That curiosity lead me to apply for a job as a native seed collector, and I could not be more excited to learn everything related to botany and this new landscape I’m in the middle of. With hundreds of random pictures of unidentified plants, insects and birds maybe I can finally start making a dent on figuring out what’s behind the mysteries in my camera roll. It has already been a very unique experience for me! With flying to Chicago to meet all my fellow interns and see the amazing botanic garden and returning home just to immediately retreat due to wildfire, I think this season will be quite exciting. Although, I think I might have had enough excitement for the season and am very much looking forward to being able to return and keep my head down looking for plant species to collect from.

Evacuation due to a wildfire reaching Ruidoso NM city limits.

I grew up in the Phoenix valley, west side, and never really knew much else until after high school. It was almost overwhelming walking through the Tonto National Forest. I had never seen so much of an area so free of concrete. Not completely, there were still power lines and fencing, but it was there to keep the wildlife wild and away from the tame world of society. Still, is in an incredible experience to be able to walk through the Tonto and its abundant resources. Seeing the parts of a system work together as insects pollinate the plants that feed the larger animals. When nothing happens in the forest, the most magical song plays by an orchestra of songbirds accompanied by the breeze playing through the trees. As a child, playing outside was riding my bike through the cul-de-sac until the asphalt was too hot to ride over. To be able to just walk through tree-shaded trails is such an indescribable feeling. To think the wilderness has always been just out there. To think there used to be so much more. I cannot understand why humans replaced the forest with concrete jungles. I have only grown more passionate about environmental protection, conservation, and education. Being out with nature makes one connect with their environment and understand themselves. It is so fun to think this as I scout for plants.

The image above is of my first time in a meadow. There was so much tall grass to wade through and stomp over, even though this image may not show it. Yes it was incredibly hot and humid and filled with so many fascinating insects, but it was all so new to me and just wonderful. This blog post was more about how this opportunity has strengthened my decision in continuing field biology. Less about the work itself but the environment it brought me to. Outside work is not for everyone. Honestly, my first field assignment was to pull out weeds, and I had so much fun digging into soft dirt. Anytime my family had to do yardwork we needed pickaxes. These were available at that first assignment but were not necessary with how soft the soil was. Working outside in the Arizona Summer is definitely scary and not for everyone. It is intense and the heat risks are very high. Luckily growing up here I am confident in my capabilities to handle it and take action as I recognize signs of heat stress. The summer has started off strong this season and I look forward to continuing exploring the Tonto National Forest.