By: Jessica Vick 

While I have lived in Illinois for a while I cannot believe that I haven’t experienced the prairie the way I now have with this position. For school we were tasked to write a large plant inventory project and I chose a small prairie closer to my home. However, this prairie surprises me in new and beautiful ways every single day. We have had some extremely hot days to contend with and that is an adjustment for me as well. Altogether I wouldn’t trade my experience thus far for anything in the world.

First off my co-interns that I am with are so knowledgeable about the plants that we are seed collecting from. Being a Wildlife Conservation major I have experienced and wrote several projects on plants however, wildlife is my wheelhouse. I have had the fortunate opportunity to be around a group of some of the smartest plant people I have ever met. With the use of iNaturalist and their help I am not only learning about all the Native Illinois plants but I am also learning and retaining their names. The conservation field has equally a huge piece in conserving native plant life. I think being from the Redwood forest I am used to those plants, trees, far more than these but this like I stated above has been a great adventure and experience in learning. 

Being a part of this adventure I’ve had the pleasure of spending my days in the field not only collecting seed but experiencing the wildlife on the prairie. In particular it was nice to witness Monarch larvae yesterday

Monarch butterfly larvae (Danaus plexippus Linnaeus)

As a wildlife person this is evidence that we are doing something wonderful. The monarch butterfly as of 2023 was added to the vulnerable to extinction list and we don’t want it to get any further as we need our pollinators. 

Being a part of the group that is planting and helping restore the prairie has been rewarding and educational. Seeing milkweed in the wild, while not ready, is evidence that this program is working. 

Common Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca L.)

Along with seeing the caterpillars and monarch’s the amount of milkweed throughout the prairie, while not ready for picking, is beautiful. Because, we are sustaining the monarch’s life by having this tallgrass prairie.

Another seed collecting experience was met with a hangout session with a viceroy butterfly while seed collecting. Because we could be standing in one place for several minutes the amount of insects we see and that could be all around us varies. 

One of the other interesting things about this internship is the seed cleaning process and everything that entails. From the collecting, to the combining of our mutually collected seed in one location, to the hand cleaning screen process, then my favorite part so far is weighing and looking at the seed under a microscope. I tried to get a picture of what it looked like through the ocular lens of the microscope, it is something that before this internship I didn’t spend much time doing on my own. While I do have my own microscope at home, I feel like this skill that I have learned will have me wanting to do this more.

Looking through the ocular lens at various Carex

While seed collecting one day with the volunteers that help at Midewin National Tallgrass Prairie not only did I witness a flyover of some of our resident sandhill cranes (Grus canadensis), but I also at the same exact moment captured a picture of another pollinator, the Golden northern bumble bee (Bombus fervidus).

While we are sandwiched between a landfill and an Exxon plant I feel like we are making a difference and it is evident in all the life that is out there. A refuge of sorts in an otherwise flatland that is Illinois. I think at this point in my internship, while I did start late, I have been to almost every site to collect seed. I am learning more every single day from not only our mentors but from my well versed co-interns. I am thankful to be here and I cannot wait to learn more about tallgrass prairies. 

partridge pea (Chamaecrista fasciculata)

In Scotland, the £1 coin is distinctly marked by the country’s national flower, a thistle. It is said that the flower earned its place there in a battle against the Norsemen, who had a bit of a Lego’s moment. In attempting to sneak up on the Scottish army at night, the Norsemen had taken off their shoes. When one unfortunate soldier happened to step on the thorny plant, screaming in agony, he alerted his enemy.

In a variety of other cultures, from Roman to Native American, thistles were used and appreciated for concrete uses (medicine), and even spiritual ones (charms of protection). And ecologically, I’ve noticed the way that bees cling to the flowerheads and seemingly get drunk off the many flowers squished into each cluster. They fight tooth and nail to stay on their little patch, even if you use leaves, twigs, or even other flowers (not from personal experience, of course) to get them to evacuate the area.

Just the other day in fact, I handed a bag of thistle leaves to a local who claimed his goats loved to munch on them. As we watched his truck pull away after he thanked our crew for pulling the invasive (and feeding his goat), we blinked at one another in confusion. Why would any living thing wish to put a thistle in its mouth?

For the past few months, I’ve been spraying and pulling invasive thistles.* And, having seen the way thistle outcompetes and damages native ecosystems, while also being pricked more times than I would like to admit, my distaste for them comes from an understandable place. Which, in turn, makes any tidbit on thistles being found enjoyable…a shock. It is like discovering your mortal enemy fosters puppies in their free time, and is really, annoyingly, good at it. But there is also a morbid curiosity involved in learning of this hidden side to them—can I trust these claims? What else are they good at? Why am I seeing them in my dreams???

All of this to say, this blog post is simply me sharing what I’ve learned. I don’t hate thistle any less. I do not hesitate to pull them out of the ground if given the chance. But the fun facts are just that. Fun. And yes, you can technically eat them. With lots of preparation. But I have pulled up a few roots that look remarkably close to carrots, so do with that information as you will (—a stew. Not that I have given it that much thought).

Anyways! In other news from this past month:

Some salmon-luck and the beginning of stinky season (fish are rotting and bear poop abounds).

Cool funky fantastic plants!

Sobering clear-cuts performed by private timber companies.

Pictures I will be keeping:

That about wraps it up. Until next time!

-Emma

*There are thistle species native to North America, and I am more than happy to leave those alone!

I forced myself to stop lamenting about missing this or that about a month ago, choosing instead to fully enjoy the remainder of my time in, arguably, the most beautiful place on Earth (Lake Tahoe).  Then, I knelt down to cut open some seeds. Somehow, when I stood up, August was just about over.

As I swam this past weekend, staring at the light dancing in the water, I couldn’t help but get a bit wistful at how fast its all changing. The chill from the water lingers for a bit longer after drying off now. The aspens are starting to show tinges of yellow, heavier layers have replaced t-shirts on my morning bike ride to work, and believe it or not, I got stuck in a snowstorm on my hike last weekend. For me, there’s always a bit of melancholy that comes along with the waning days of summer. In addition to summer being my favorite season, my heart breaks thinking about my favorite off-work activity (reading on the beach until I get hot, jumping in the lake, drying off, repeat) slipping through my fingers. At the same time, watching the seasons change in an entirely new way is so captivating. Another, admittedly much sillier, upside to this season of my life is that this is the first fall I will be “harvesting” anything, which really makes all the seasonal festivities make much more sense.

With autumn now looming over us, Gerardo and I have been very busy, driving around all around the basin in search populations ideal for seed collection. We have shifted into spending all our time scouting in preparation for September, when the whole Forest Service botany crew will begin seed collecting. Suddenly, everything seems to be in seed. Populations we’ve been monitoring all summer are now in fruit, which has been so exciting to watch. Finding more populations after scouting all summer has become challenging, but this makes each new location on our map a bit more rewarding.

We got our first taste of seed collecting last week at Spooner Lake; a new parking lot has been approved for construction in a patch of forest, meaning all plant populations (and their seed bank) will be lost from that immediate area. Because of these unique circumstances, we were able to collect all of the seeds from some of our target species rather than the standard 10% or 20%, saving them from an asphalt-covered doom.  We have yet to clean the seeds, but we estimate that we collected roughly 15,000 seeds! I listened to a great audiobook and spent ~10 hours in a forest plucking seeds off plants. I cannot fathom a better workday.

As the end of summer creeps closer, I find myself more at peace with the change than in past years. While the incoming colder weather may spell the end of my dearly-beloved beach days, it also marks the beginning of the most rewarding part of my internship yet, seed collection! Most of all, I’m looking forward to the idiom, “you reap what you sow,” applying to my life in a somewhat literal sense.

“What do you like about it? Is it the topography, or the wildlife, or something else?” 

It’s a common question when I share with my coworkers how much I love the Tumacacoris and the Atascosas. Coronado National Forest is huge and incredibly diverse, and in the heat of a Sonoran summer most people don’t want to be on these two smaller, lower elevation mountain ranges. They lack the refreshing temperatures of the higher ranges on the Forest. As far as I can tell, the most abundant animals here are cattle. I would advise against swimming in either of the lakes because of heavy metal from mine tailings, waterborne illnesses from grazing, and ample leeches. 

This landscape is hot and humid, winding with canyons, hills, secret swimming holes, and perennial streams. Much of it is not true desert but the Madrean Archipelago, a blend of conifer forest, oak scrub, grassland, and wetland. Humans are everywhere – canyons full of agave scrapers and hand axes, camouflage jackets and plastic bottles from the refugee crisis unfolding on this part of the border, pictographs, abandoned vehicles, and ammo (both modern shell casings and older arrowheads).

It is easy to explain why I love the plants and the animals and the air of this place. It’s harder to explain that love when considered with the heaviness that comes with the task of surveying plants and collecting seeds from these mountains. To a lot of people in Southern Arizona, “Chiricahuas” is a mountain range. To a lot of other people, the Chiricahuas are a nation of Apache people who were forcibly removed as part of a genocide in the mountain ranges who still bear their name. The Huachucas are a mountain range and also the name of a Pima village that was wiped out by settlers. What is considered to be the final battle of the American Indian wars was fought in Bear Valley in the Atascosas. There are trees and lichens alive today who were alive to witness all of this. It is not lost on me that I am harvesting seeds from places with a painful and shameful history. It is not lost on me that this would be true nearly anywhere on the continent.

I don’t have wisdom to offer anyone about this. A land acknowledgement (“I am harvesting seeds on land that traditionally belonged to many different nations, all of whom were treated brutally by the nation we call the United States”) does not seem useful. I thank every plant from whom I harvest seeds (and every plant I collect for herbarium pressing), but I also know every one of these plants is here in these landscapes – landscapes so deeply modified and architected by humans – because of the care of Indigenous people and nations. Indigenous people and nations who are still here, but generally not present at my workplace to provide oversight or input.

On this part of the Coronado, it’s impossible to forget this challenging, painful, complicated history. There is sweet birdsong and beautiful flowers and evident bitterness. Regardless of any land acknowledgement I make, the land asks me every day to acknowledge that my work here is fraught. The pictographs, the arrowheads, the cattle, the border wall – every day I am asked to remember who was here and who is here and who might be here next. I don’t love all of it, but I’m grateful for the opportunity to be here and witness it, and maybe work toward human justice in this place that has been sculpted by so many human hands. To me, that is a type of love.

Another month has gone by here in Plumas National Forest. As the season goes on by and we approach the end of summer, I find myself in awe at how much we’ve accomplished. We’ve fallen into a steady routine by now, with most of our time consisting of checking on plant phenology, collecting mature seeds, and occasionally processing seeds to ensure good storage. That last part is key, we learned: ensuring our collections are stored properly. Following a chaotic end to our week, we showed up one Monday morning to be greeted by hundreds of flies that had taken over our office. There was a moment of confusion before we realized what had happened over the weekend– the rustling paper bags reminded us. The large Wyethia collection we were quite proud of from the week before was not properly looked at before bringing it inside. We definitely didn’t sort through the seed heads, given that we arrived back at the office around 10 pm after getting our truck stuck in the mud. Being too fried from the eventful day and also too used to loose seed collections, the thought of breaking up the seed heads to prevent moisture and loosen up whatever was inside didn’t occur to us that night.

Our plans for the day were pushed back a bit so we could make time to address the issue before it got worse and affected the rest of our collections. This meant we had to take our many bags of Wyethia mollis seeds outside and sort through them, cracking open individual seed heads and sorting out the seeds, removing any infected parts. This process was tedious and frustrating; sharp splinters pierced our skin as we crushed open the seed heads, dusty particles of plant material emitted an unpleasant odor into the air, and plenty of larvae wiggled around us. It felt like we had been defeated. Just a few days before, we had felt so accomplished, having stumbled upon a massive population. This was easily one of the largest collections we made all summer. Now we had a setback, with a ton of seeds to look through during peak collection time.

But thankfully, not all seeds gave us so much trouble. One of the best parts of this month has been seeing all the variety of collections we have, and the unique experiences each species brings as we collect. There’s little variation in what we do everyday, at the surface level. Each day is the same, yet each day is unique: different plants offer different habitats, collection methods, textures, scents. Having collected from most of our target species by now, I’ve half-consciously created a ranking in my head of the most satisfying plants to collect from. A few of the highlights are:

1. Veratrum californicum (Cornlily): This water-loving lily is often found in serene wet meadows, growing about 4-5 feet tall at times, creating an almost corn-maze-like effect. The seed pods took forever to reach maturity, but once they did, they easily made the top of the list for most satisfying collection. Thin, papery pods the size of grapes could be easily crushed, making a lovely crinkling sound and releasing several white, papery seeds. And if the seeds were really far into maturity, you could even grab a whole stalk, tilt it over into your bag, and gently shake it, releasing hundreds of seeds effortlessly.

2. Asclepias cordifolia (Purple Milkweed): Milkweeds are so fun to collect. Upon reaching maturity, the dried pods crack open to reveal some of the softest material I’ve ever felt. Each seed is accompanied by a large puff of milkweed “silk”, an incredibly lightweight pappus that aids in wind dispersal. This is a plant that makes me look forward to tedious seed cleaning!

3. Lupinus arbutus (Lupine): Lupines can really be hit or miss. Our first encounter with Lupine collection was extremely unpleasant: while opening a pod, we had about an 80% chance some gross little larvae would pop out at us. But as we sampled new populations and learned that not all Lupines had this issue, at least not quite as severely as the first one, Lupine collection became one of my favorites. We came across a particularly good population of Lupinus arbutus that had virtually no bugs inside–yay! And then we finally got to experience the joy of having a perfectly mature seed pod pop open right in your hand as you reach to collect, separating all the seeds instantly and offering a nice crunchy feeling.

4. Monardella odoratissima (Monardella): Everyone in the building knows when we’ve collected Monardella– the strong minty scent spreads all throughout the hallway, becoming a nice natural air freshener. A few weeks ago it helped to mask the stench of old milk left in the communal fridge, quickly making it an office favorite. It definitely gets a few points for that alone. But the tactile qualities are nice as well. As the seed head dries, you simply walk up to one and crumple it, the seeds gently flaking off into the bag.

5. Elymus elymoides (Squirreltail): Elymus elymoides gets points just for the name. But also, it’s a funky looking native grass that has brushy seeds that you easily strip off in one sweep.

I could go on and on but I’ll stop there with my top five. And of course, my least favorite should be pretty obvious. (Wyethia mollis…)

In addition to seed collection, here’s some photos of some other fun stuff I saw this month:

Check back in next month for more updates!

As I’m starting this blog, we have about 30 minutes left before we need to clock out and avoid running into overtime. Today also happens to be the last day of the work week, right before our blog submissions are due. You might wonder why I’m just now starting this, and the answer lies with AT&T and the LIE that is “unlimited” data. This bounty of data does not apply to hotspots, apparently.

We aren’t allowed to use the USFS internet, and although I’d much rather save my hotspot data for downloading the Planet of the Apes movies, I end up using most of it in the office.

Fortunately, my hotspot data reset today, and with the ridiculously hot weather outside, I have the connection (and motivation) to sit in the office and work on this blog right now and only now.

As we pass the midway point of our internship, we’ve been busy collecting lots of seeds, of course. Today, we gathered Penstemon, snowberries, and Oregon Grape. However, I’ve been a bit down lately because thimbleberry is no longer fruiting, and the days feel just a little duller without it.

My mentor has popped into the cubicle to chat, so I’m out of time to write. I know this post isn’t very long or detailed, so I’ll make it up to you with a little something extra:

Ella, Ash, and I have been working on an album (you can find more details in their blog posts), and we all decided to write one song that really spoke to us. My contribution is ‘Ash Song,’ a parody of ‘Fight Song,’ inspired by the powerful being that is Ash Terry. I hope you enjoy.

Ash Song

Like a lichen that is growin’  

Mysterious, I’m not postin’  

Yeah, I went to Clemson  

So I’m well-spoken  

When mosquitos bite me  

I get very swollen  

Sorry I can’t help but slay  

Monkey Island, I’ll liberate  

South Car’lina, it’s on sight  

Can you hear my voice this time?

This is my Ash song (hey)  

My Ooh-ooh ahh-ahh song (hey) [Like monkey sounds] 

I take out the trash song (hey, ha)  

I’ve never been wrong (hey)  

Costa Rica, I’ll belong (hey)  

I’ll play my Ash song (hey)  

You know I’ve got “God’s Plan” by Drake on repeat (ha)  

‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of Ash left in me 

Moved to Oregon, I’m pulling weeds  

On the hunt for serviceberry  

Collecting seeds, I’m collecting seeds (I’m collecting seeds)  

And it’s been so long, I miss my home  

Well, that’s complicated, so I don’t know  

Still believe, yeah, I still believe  

Sorry that I can’t help but slay  

Monkey Island, I’ll liberate  

South Car’lina, it’s on sight  

Can you hear my voice this time?

This is my Ash song (hey)  

My Ooh-ooh ahh-ahh song (hey)  

I take out the trash song (hey, ha)  

I’ve never been wrong (hey)  

Costa Rica, I’ll belong (hey)  

I’ll play my Ash song (hey)  

You know I’ve got “God’s Plan” by Drake on repeat (ha)  

‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of Ash left in me, lotta Ash left in me  

Like a lichen that is growin’  

Mysterious, I’m not postin’  

Yeah, I went to Clemson  

So I am well-spoken  

When mosquitos bite me  

I get very swollen…

This is my Ash song (hey)  

My Ooh-ooh ahh-ahh song (hey)  

Take out the trash song (hey, ha)  

I’ve never been wrong (hey)  

Costa Rica, I’ll belong (hey)  

I’ll play my Ash song (hey)  

You know I’ve got “God’s Plan” by Drake on repeat (ha)  

‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of Ash left in me, I’ve still got a lotta Ash left in me