August has come and gone on the Beaverhead-Deer Lodge National Forest and has been filled with a number of new and continuing projects. Rare plant monitoring in Maxville Montana has continued as we search for rare species of Botrychium, Agoseris, and Erythranthe. Whitebark Pine surveys have continued through August, however we have begun transitioning away from Whitebark Pine and more towards our rare plant species.
Seed collection is in full swing as we begin to collect the desired species of our forests. Some of the species that have been collected so far include Berberis repens, Geum macrophyllum, Festuca campestris, Gaillardia aristata, Pershia tridentata, Geranium viscosissimum and Phacelia hastata.
This month I had the privilege of joining the wildlife crew for a field day working on lynx habitat monitoring. Using points generated by a habitat model, we hiked to different locations and used a coverboards to determine habitat viability as well as looked for sign of lynx prey species.
Some fun wildlife encounters from this month have included white-tail and mule deer, columbia-spotted frogs, garter snakes, and some interesting looking cyanobacteria.
Western Terrestrial Garter Snake
A new project that I was able to participate in was lichen monitoring. The Montana Natural Heritage Program has plots set out for monitoring on a decade long cycle where species classification and prevalence are determined for the area. This monitoring research is going towards habitat and air quality as lichens are a determining factor in air quality in certain environments.
Pollinator surveys have continued with a hike up to Goat Flats in hopes of capturing some high-altitude bees in subalpine regions of the Beaverhead-Deer Lodge National Forest. Aside from the amazing view this experience was particularly memorable since the crew got caught in a lighting and hailstorm that left us soaking wet and high-tailed for the truck.
View from Goat Flats pre-storm
August has been filled with inclement weather as Montana transitions from extreme heat to extreme storms. Fires continue to rage in Montana and all around the Beaverhead-Deer Lodge National Forest caused by both human activity and lightning storms that have been raging through the state.
Sometimes, words fall short, unable to capture the hurricane of my mind. So I turn to my outlet of song: why use more word when fewer word do trick. This is one of the songs from our Willamette CLM album. This song is particularly meaningful to me as it captures the adversities one faces as a certified berry picker and shows how the mind wanders in the quiet of the forest. Some may say I am an overthinker, but I say no I am a dreamer, a dreamer of a bright future. In this future, I am free, driving through endless open roads in my truck. Beside me are two dogs (Liam and Neeson). They are my sons, my friends, my peace. Together, we chase the American dream: a life full of hope and freedom. I hope you too are a dreamer and enjoy this musical masterpiece from our album (Bagpipes and Barking by the Campfire).
Bagpipes and Barking by the Campfire
Going down the highway, Rd 22 im on my way
Pulling up to my hideaway, gonna get some good berries today.
I found some Huckleberry, BaneBerry, and Snow.
Collecting 20% of berries I look high and low.
I found a motherload of berries and try not to have a heart attack,
But in my head I know there ain't no turning back
So I pick up my burlap sack and start the berry picking.
I'm picking, tripping, and kicking but you know that I ain't quitting.
I am doing my main berry mission, standing in my power position
I see my friends Katie and Ash wishing that they weren't itching from all the blackberry thorns we just walked through.
Two doggies in the back, nothing in my burlap sack,
Rolling down the highway, never looking back,
Berries on my mind, and the sun on my track,
Dreaming of two doggies in the back, nothing in my burlap sack.
I'm still picking, I'm kicking, till the sun starts to fade,
But with these berries in my hand, I know I've got it made,
Still dreaming of two doggies in the back, and I’m right on the attack,
Filling up my sack, there’s no turning back!
Ayeee its dj dirty E on the track check it!!
I got berries in my sack marking it off on my GIS Map.
Dont worry don't fret I aint no threat im just a berry picking pro
no no wait i'm a god thats right im a god oh dang I Dropped the berry pod that means im a fraud ok so im flawed but that dont mean i haven't clawed my way to the top of this berry hill
You won't hear me still til I grab a couple mil of berries for my bag Invasive species i will flag you won't catch me lag until my mission is filled.
I said my mission is filled DJ Dirty E is on this track with a full burlap sack it's time to take it back to the chorus get that!
Two doggies in the back, something in my burlap sack,
Rolling down the highway, never looking back,
Berries on my mind, and the sun on my track,
Dreaming of two doggies in the back, something in my burlap sack.
I'm still picking, I'm kicking, till the sun starts to fade,
But with these berries in my hand, I know I've got it made,
Still dreaming of two doggies in the back, and I’m right on the attack,
Filling up my sack, there’s no turning back!
The clock says that its 4:30 you know what that means,
its the end of todays berry dreams
Until tomorrow my heart will swallow the memories that were made on this beautiful berry day.
For the day cannot always stay so I will go home and pray
that I can be blessed by another berry array.
Second full month on the grassland is officially over! I’m sooooo ready for fall, it’s been a dry August and everything is starting to turn brown. Earlier this month we had the opportunity of going out into the field with the Medora district’s botanist Jack Dahl to learn about ecological sites and to do a vegetation survey within a population of Ponderosa pines (Pinus ponderosa). Commonly used in rangeland management, ecological regions are mainly defined and categorized by an area’s soil type and plant species composition, which then indicates the “ecological potential” (i.e. what the best management or restoration practices would be) of that site. Years ago they had done a vegetation survey at this site, so one our visit we went through the previous plant species list to confirm old observations and notate any new species.
We also go to see where a wildfire went through another population of Ponderosa pines over 20 years ago. Jack told us they’ve tried replanting ponderosa in the past here, but something about the soil just can’t support their growth anymore
Wavyleaf thistle (circium undulatum) has been our main target species for seed collections this month, but that’s winding down now. In terms of native seed work, most of our time is spent cleaning thistle seed while we wait for our next target species (Ratibida columnifera and Echinacea angustifolia) to begin seeding.
Weird bug
Cleaning Wavyleaf thistle
Later in the month we went out with Jack again to get going with sensitive plant species surveys on the Grand, starting with Visher’s / Dakota buckwheat (Eriogonum visheri). Dakota buckwheat is a small annual in the Polygonaceae family, and most easily identified by relatively large, rounded red leaves at the base and small yellow-white flowers. They grow in bare, eroded soils of badland-type habitat, and are most threatened by grazing (mostly cattle stepping on them) and competition from other pioneer species.
Dakota buckwheat, very very small and difficult to see, but once seen can be easily identified by its thin, red stems and rounded leaves at the base
Portion of a population we surveyed, very difficult to see but they’re there
Another sensitive plant species we are to survey is Smooth goosefoot (Chenopodium subglabrum), another small annual but in the Amaranthaceae family and grows in sandy soil. We went to check on a site where they had been found about 20 years ago, and to my surprise the site was in an actual sand dune! Would have never guessed that this was here, and I have yet to learn the specifics on how this has formed, but there sure are sand dunes on the grassland. Unfortunately we could not find the plant in this spot, but hopefully it’ll be present in our future survey sites.
Sand cityAnd who would I be if I didn’t end this with a picture of a weevil
Summer in the Pacific Northwest means berry season. While some, like the red baneberry, are highly poisonous, a lot of them are edible and quite tasty, making seed collection go by a lot faster. Whenever I get a little hungry, I just “test” one of the seeds for ripeness by assessing the flavor. In my free time, I return to populations too small for collection, but just big enough for personal use. I take the blueberries and bake a scrumptious, yet tart, blueberry pie, and the huckleberries are perfect for muffin making.
Vaccinium membranaceum (Thinleaf huckleberry!)
Vaccinium membranaceummuffinaceum ft. Katius Skelteum
I’ve never felt this provided for in an ecosystem before. While I’m sure my beautiful southeastern home has ample vegetation to meet my needs, I was never taught anything about that. Most of my background is in agriculture. Working on farms and in fields, you develop a certain relationship with the land. It’s almost a parental role. You give the crops what they need – water, sun, nutrients – and watch as they take the provisions to grow and mature. You love your crops (except for maybe that tricky relationship with the bad seed who got influenced by the wrong crowd (aphids)), and you feel a sense of pride because you shaped them. You take their fruits, but those fruits are partially a product of your labor.
With seed collection though, I’ve developed a whole new relationship with the plants. There is no sense of pride with seed collection. I contribute nothing to the success of the plants. I play no role in their growth. I don’t give, I only take.
Berries in the bag!
The roles are reversed – now the plants are taking care of me. I didn’t have to earn it, I just had to appreciate it. The term mother nature takes on a whole new meaning. While I’m well aware that every material thing I own comes from nature, I’m so separated from the raw materials that it’s hard to appreciate. But, when I pick the berries off the branch and pop them in my mouth, I know exactly who to thank. The book I’ve been reading, Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, has been teaching me to express gratitude to every part of nature. The berries that I collect are pure gifts. I’ve been trying to keep in mind the lessons from this book as I collect my seeds. Kimmerer talks of how she always leaves an offering for plants and thanks them when she collects from them. My inner treehugger comes out, but it feels joyous to thank the plants for their gifts. Even when I bake with my personal collection, I feel more inclined to take my time because I know that I’m using gifts, and there’s nothing more hurtful than wasting a well-thought out present. During work hours it feels even better to know that I’m using these gifts to help the plants back. The seeds that we collect will primarily be used for meadow and fire restoration, so everything I take goes right back to earth – a neverending cycle of gratitude and giving.
Tree huggers
P.S. My two fellow interns and I have been working on an album to put into song what is so hard to convey with typical prose. Below is an attempt to explain how I feel when I’m picking berries.
Berries in the bag
Well I was drivin my load down that gravel road
Yung Gravy blastin through my speakers
Windows down, sunglasses up,
Sending a thanks to my good lord Caesar
Passin bracken ferns and heck maybe even cedars (I dont know my trees)
I’m cruisin right along, apartment K on my mind
When I hear a ‘stop’ yelp out the back
I get out the truck (there’s nothing here, wait what?)
As I grab my pack, I see em
Berries to my left.
Berries to my right.
Berries up and down.
Berries everywhere in sight.
I grab a ziploc, grab my walky talk
And I start grabbin those
Berries off the branch.
Berries in my hand.
Berries in the sky
Berries in my eye
But first..
Berries in the bag. (Yee haw)
Berries in the bag
Sittin in these bushes, got dirt for a cushion
Hands stained purple from the fruit of my labor
Bees swarm, birdies dive
Everyone wants a taste of my berries to savor
Karma blessin’ for my good behavior
My stomach gives a rumble, gives a grumble
She don’t like seein’ what she can’t have
I decide to brave it through, clench those ab muscles (shoutout Shaun T)
But that’s when I realize I got
Berries to my left.
Berries to my right.
Berries up and down.
Berries everywhere in sight.
I grab a ziploc, grab my walky talk
And I start grabbin those
Berries off the branch.
Berries in my hand.
Berries in the sky
Berries in my eye
But first..
Berries in the tummy. (Yee haw)
Berries in the tummy
Huckleberries. Thimbleberries. Blueberries. Snowberries.
I’ll take em all, take em anyway
Blackberries. Black cap raspberries. Elderberries. Red baneberries.
Bake them berries in a pie. Berries in the sky
Berries on my tongue. Berries when I’m on the run.
Keep me fed. Keep me full. Got my girl nourished too
Berries...
I love youuuuu!
Berries to my left.
Berries to my right.
Berries up and down.
Berries everywhere in sight.
I grab a ziploc, grab my walky talk
And I start grabbin those
Berries off the branch.
Berries in my hand.
Berries in the sky
Berries your the love of my life
But first...
Berries in the bag. (Yee haw)
Berries in the bag
Berriieess
Beriieees
Berries get in my bag!!!
This month brought a fun change to the seed collecting routine. We were sent out on a three day backpacking mission to check in on a rare endemic, the Cup Lake Draba!
Draba asterophora var. macrocarpa only grows between two small, granite-lined lakes in the Desolation Wilderness. The terrain is rugged and difficult to access. Whitebark pine and gnarled hemlocks hug windswept ridges and a diversity of alpine flowers cling to granite cracks. On the north facing aspect of this ridgeline is where the Cup Lake Draba makes its living.
We began our trip by stuffing as much gear as we could fit into our packs. Tents, sleeping bags and pads, food and stoves, as well as many non essentials such as cameras, moth lights, binoculars, bug nets and UV flashlights. We’re a group of nerds, what can we say!
The Jepson is always worth bringing!
With our absurdly heavy loads, we began up the 2,500 ft climb; taking it slow and observing the wildlife and plants along the way. As we reached the summit and entered the whitebark pine zone, we were greeted by an exploratory pika, great views of Lake Tahoe, and a very surprised family of sooty grouse.
Cup lake is a tiny body of water situated in a deep granite bowl. The water is cold, and there are several alpine plants who live along its edges. Before setting up camp, we hiked down to the lake and did a preliminary search for the Draba. It was easy to locate the historical polygons, but sadly there were no flowers present.
Cup Lake
The next day we split off into two groups. Beth and Allie stayed to remap and survey the main lakeside population, while Tori and I hiked along the ridge to map out a series of populations that hadn’t been visited since the early 2000s.
Lakeside lunching
As we moved along the ridge we began to get a feel for the Draba’s habitat preference. We only encountered it on the north side in slightly sheltered areas. It seemed to thrive in decomposed granite surrounded by bigger boulders and protected from the elements. We were excited to find thousands of plants thriving in these unforgiving conditions. We even found a handful in full flower! If conditions allow, we will be revisiting these populations to make conservation seed collections from this rare plant.
There it is!
Overall, the trip was a great success! We have another backpacking trip to the wilderness coming up to survey for whitebark pine, and I’m excited to get back out there. The season of flowers is coming to a close, and it’s nice to get up high and catch the alpine ones before fall comes.
Eriogonum lobbiiGastroboletus turbinatus var. flammeus, a rare mushroom
Georges Seurat filled a canvas with many thousands of pointillistic dots to paint the Isle of La Grande Jatte; in the same way, many thousands of isles dot the Alaskan coastline to paint the landscape of the Alexander Archipelago. These islands – some thousands of square miles, others just barely breaking the surface at low tide – are in fact the many peaks of an underwater mountain range. Further south, they march out of the sea to form the Cascades. As glaciers retreated from here thousands of years ago, they carved the tangled fractal of fjords and channels that fill the valleys between those mountains. The soil on the hills above has had only a minute to form, in geologic time, and the cool weather further slows its formation. Little more than a few inches of gray-black muck support the conifers here, and it regularly slumps into liquefied landslides.
At first, it would seem that Prince of Wales Island would be a bit dull for a soil scientist. There are no farms here, as one might expect, so there is not much of a market for soil testing – in fact, much of the area remains unmapped in the NRCS’s soil surveys of America…in reality, the opposite is the case. Soil scientists (and their more charismatic cousins, geologists) have no shortage of curiosities awaiting them on the Tongass.
The northern half of Prince of Wales is built upon a honeycomb of karst – limestone that has been fluted by the slow drip-drip-drip of underground seeps and springs. More than 600 caves have been found on the island, with many more surely lurking deep in the forest. We toured El Capitan, the largest cave in Alaska, and even in an hour saw only the entrance. Far beyond the end of our adventure lay titanic, cave rooms hundreds of feet in every dimension – an underground cathedral in a perpetually echoic Midnight Mass, sine lux aeterna.
A few hundred feet from the cave’s mouth, we performed our most unusual (and my favorite) seed collection of the year thus far. Hordeum brachyantherum, meadow barley, grows like rice in tidal flats, flooding and drying twice a day. Emma and I scurried around a patch of it – as fast as one can scurry in rain boots, sinking into 15 inches of mud and water – collecting as much as possible before the rising tide swallowed the shore again. The rippling waves of grass and seawater under a rare cloudless sky easily made for one of my favorite sights this summer.
Elsewhere on our island, the ground sinks into bottomless pits of peat moss in muskegs. These bizarre bogs are a soil scientist’s dream and nightmare simultaneously: they consist of several spongy feet of waterlogged moss and nothing else. Muskegs are the closest thing to Indiana Jones-style quicksand pits one is likely to ever encounter in real life – one wrong step could mean disappearing into a ten-foot well of slime. (The “bog mummies” of Ireland and the Andes formed in exactly this manner; the anaerobic environment slows decay almost to a standstill.) As unearthly as these are, however, they support a fascinating diversity of plants found in few other places. Bog cranberries, cottongrass and water sedge are three muskeg-loving plants we have collected thus far. And how could I forget the day that I hiked 8 miles in driving rain to one such muskeg to pick cloudberries! These petite orange raspberries, Rubus chamaemorus, are tremendously frustrating to cultivate (I have tried) and equally laborious to pick, but absolutely worth the effort. They taste a bit like a mix between apple pie and peach yogurt. If you ever have the opportunity, I highly recommend going to the trouble of picking them.
I am always in awe of how the forces of nature are laid bare in Alaska to create a wild landscape like nowhere else. Much like the other features of the Tongass that I have written about already, Alaska’s geology has a colorful and vibrant story to tell. It dots the Pacific coast with a dizzying array of jungle islands, and produces an abundant scattering of minerals – salt, marble, uranium, and gold – that have been integral to the island’s history and environment. It is strange to think that I will only be in the Last Frontier for just over a month yet, and I have so much of this island to still explore. No doubt, it will be full of many more adventures and things to learn.
I knew the weather in Montana would be different than what I am used to, but I didn’t realize quite how unpredictable it is. In New England we like to say “If you don’t like the weather wait a few minutes” but here that is even more true. In the past month it has hailed, poured rain, thunder-stormed, been humid, been dry, been hot, been cold, and even snowed a little.
I check the weather every day yet I still never feel quite prepared for what the Montana weather will decide to do. We always joke that if more than half the cows are laying down that means it will rain. Although this is not a fool proof method of predicting weather I often find looking to the cows to be more accurate than whatever my weather app says. I also don’t think I’ll ever get used to how much the temperature changes when we drive down the mountain. There is often a 10 degree difference between where I live and the nearest city, Great Falls.
Me with a cow skull I found while collecting seed.
Another thing about the weather here that I am still getting used to is the wind. The wind is louder and stronger than anything I am used to. Not too long ago we were camping in an area we wanted to collect seed in. During the night the wind was so loud I thought a bear was trying to break into my tent! We could hear the wind building up before it hit our campsite and it made my tent shake. I think none of us slept very well that night between the loudness and the fear of falling trees. Luckily no trees fell in our campsite.
Despite unpredictable, and sometimes scary weather I have really been enjoying my time here. I was lucky enough to see a moose which was a bucket list item for me (I almost cried). I am continuing to learn so much and I am so grateful for the community in the region of my forest, they even make our safety meetings fun. I feel homesick sometimes, but I also know that I will be so sad to leave when my season is over.
After this last month, I’m feeling like a lucky human. It’s one thing to know and recognize a plant during the peak of its life cycle, its blooming state. I liken knowing a plant at this level to a surface level relationship – simple, somewhat predictable, and perpetually showing the most beautiful side of oneself. But these types of relationships often lack depth, complexity, and greater meaning. When you start to recognize and become familiar with a plant after the height of its season, a certain depth of connection comes into being. While some plants carry subtle hints of their flowering stage into their seed stage, they can be quite unrecognizable at first. Like watching a child grow over the years, there’s a stark and raw beauty that arises when you get to know a plant over the various stages of its life cycle. Even when it’s not at the peak of its life and even when it’s in its dried, brown, and withering states.
A beautiful dried fruit and seed from a plant we did not collect from but is prevalent across the landscape.Harvesting Angelica lucida.Good ol’ Calamagrostis canadensis, a workhorse native grass; very prevalent across the landscape and an essential plant in the restoration project.
Gathering the seeds of various plants this season has allowed me to observe them in all of these stages, focusing especially on their later stages. I’ve seen them go from small buds to old dried withered plants in but a few weeks. The blessed cycle of life, from birth to death and rebirth again, happens quickly here. And it’s especially pronounced when your job is to pluck the ripe and ready seed from the withered hands of a dying plant. I enjoy identifying, observing, and working with plants in this latter stage of their life. I think they’re incredibly beautiful in this stage of their life, and I realize how rare it is to interact with them intimately during this season – especially the wild ones. Additionally, observing plants during this stage in their life cycle has made me feel even more in awe of their existence – both native plants in general and, more specifically, their seed development processes. The fact that the seeds from this region of Alaska have the ability to mature at this time of year and then lay dormant through the long, harsh winter astounds me. Especially since, when you cut them open, they aren’t completely dry. They have to maintain some moisture. To go through such harsh conditions as a small living organism is simply amazing.
Cut test of Artemisia arctica. Note the purple hue present inside some of them.
And it’s not even as linear and straightforward as that. The other morning, we had our first frost. When we went out to gather the seed off of one of our beloved sedges, Carex canescens, the dew had frozen, with tiny icicles clinging to the vegetation. Later that day, it was surprisingly clear, and the sun warmed up everything enough to give me a sun burn. This begs the question: at what point should we stop gathering seed? Since we were inevitably going to warm up the seeds again and they would thaw, at what point does the frost/thaw oscillation begin to wake up a dormant seedling? We decided it was probably still fine to harvest the seeds since, in nature, they would have frozen and thawed anyway. But it got my mind racing with questions about the lives of seeds: how they know when to wake up and how long they can live in the seed state or seed bank before they lose their viability. And this isn’t to mention the grass seeds of this region, most of which have not fully developed yet although it’s almost October! We even saw a grass still flowering last week. What a wild world these plants create for themselves. They truly become more astounding the closer you look and the longer you notice them!
Seeds: harvested, dried, cut, processed, and bagged.
Focusing on and appreciating these lesser known aspects of plants deepens my connection to them and to the greater environment, allowing me to understand the subtle details and differences in their relationship to the whole ecosystem. Sometimes I wonder how many people have formed a close enough relationship with the star gentian (Swertia perennis) to notice how it likes to grow around the edges of the muskegs in south central Alaska and can recognize, just by looking at it, when its seeds are mature. I wonder how many have monitored the transition of the coloring of the megagametophyte of the marsh cinquefoil (Comarum palustre), which blooms curious red flowers in the standing water of marshes in these northern, harsh environments. Who has studied the seeds of Cottongrass (Eriophorum angustufolium) under a microscope and ogled over their sparkly brass seed coat? I wonder how many have had the opportunity to get to know some of these native plants on this level and to this degree. It sure comes with some weird niche knowledge, but being a plant nerd, I take pride in it and am sure it will come in handy at some point down the road. I feel very lucky to have been able to form a relationship with these plants in this way.
Seeds we processed brought to the restoration site for a direct autumn sow.
At this point, the next stage in restoration process has already begun, and it is exciting to pass it off. We’ve connected with the folks who are growing the native plant starts for next season and have delivered a portion of the seed that they will receive from us. They’ve also begun sowing the seed for next season! Additionally, we visited the restoration site and did some direct sowing of some of our seed collections including, Calamagrostis canadensis, Heracleum maximum, and Angelica lucida. Harvesting, drying, and bagging the seeds brought out a level of satisfaction, but getting them to this stage took many hours of work and was at least a several-weeks-long process for each species. However, seeing the seeds returned to the ground – especially to their final resting place and future site of evolution – was both settling and satisfying for the spirit. I wished them well on their way as I tossed seeds into the black, barren dirt beside Resurrection Creek at the restoration site. “Grow well and help heal this land!” I whispered as they danced their way back into the soil, settling in for winter and, hopefully, reawakening come spring. They’ve had quite the interesting and rare journey over the past few weeks and definitely deserved their time to rest in the wild habitats they’re most accustomed to.
Sowing Angelica lucida into the restoration site along Resurrection Creek
We started this month off strong with a sourdough bread making day! My team is very passionate about sourdough bread, and we take our starters seriously.
The team and our startersSourdough blackberry scones
We then went to go look for Draba asterophora var. macrocarpa at Cup Lake in Desolation Wilderness. This was my first ever backpacking trip, and it was incredible! Shout out to dean for carrying all of my food! We had a gnarly hike up to Ralston Peak, and then we walked the ridgeline to Cup Lake. This experience was absolutely amazing! We found so much Draba, but they had already dispersed their seeds :(. Backpacking is absolutely incredible, and something that I look forward to doing a lot more in my future!
Beginning of backpacking tripCup Lake DrabaClose up of DrabaCup LakeDeanPhoto credit: DeanRalston Peak
I went and visited my partner up in Chester, California. We were hoping Lassen National Volcanic Park would open back up (from the Park Fire), and we got so lucky that it did!! I got to see so much of the park when it had a fresh dusting of snow, and there were minimal other people there so it felt like we had the park to ourselves. I also visited Subway Cave, which was a very surreal and neat experience!
Biggest garter snake I’ve caughtMatt and I on a hike!Neat moth!Lassen- Bumpass HellMillipedeHelen LakeWaisted Waxcap- ID credit Dean
We’ve seen so many Sierra Tree Frogs recently too! Frog appreciation section.
Sierra tree frogSierra tree frogSierra tree frog
I also foraged for elderberries on the forest and made some yummy jelly! I was inspired by my times that my aunt Jen and I would make grape jelly when I was young!
Elderberry Jelly
We finished off this month with ton of seed collecting of our native species here in the Eldorado.
Over the course of the internship at Midewin, we have worked with Plants of Concern (POC), a rare plant monitoring program based in the Chicago Botanic Garden, which monitors populations of rare and state listed plants at Midewin. We also worked with the US Fish and Wildlife to monitor federally endangered Dalea foliosa (leafy prairie clover). The Plants of Concern protocol revolves around “subpopulations,” which are defined as having a distance of at least 50 meters between the nearest plants. Separate EO’s (element occurrences) are considered separate populations; many EO’s have more than one subpopulation. Level one protocol is focused on assessing the extent and abundance of plants in a subpopulation, and it is done for all subpopulations monitored by POC. Level two protocol provides information on demographics by looking at a small area and seeing how many fruits and seedlings plants are produced. Information is also recorded on threats to the population, including invasive species (both herbaceous and woody plants) and other impacts such as deer browse and trampling.
Dalea foliosa (leafy prairie clover), a federally endangered species found in dolomite prairies.
We monitored 3 subpopulations of Silene regia (royal catchfly), 2 subpopulations of Malvastrum hispidum (hispid false mallow), a subpopulation of Trifolium reflexum (buffalo clover), 4 subpopulations of Agalinis auriculata (eared false foxglove), and a subpopulation of Sanguisorba canadensis (Canadian burnet) with POC, as well as one subpopulation of Dalea foliosa with USFWS and another subpopulation with Midewin staff. Interestingly, species can behave quite differently in restorations as compared to wild populations. For example, Silene regia was very rare in the wild and was extirpated from the Chicago Region according to the Flora of the Chicago Region, whose authors assigned this species a C value of 10. So, the population we monitored was re-introduced, not wild. However, it has been highly successful in restoration, being present in most of the restorations at Midewin (coming up from seed), and the population we monitored has over 1000 individuals. Interestingly, in some of the places where it grows, it seems to prefer more disturbed areas over higher quality ones. In one restoration, it was growing happily in the weedy roadside border with Bromus inermis and Pastinaca sativa but avoiding the adjacent restoration with diverse native vegetation such as Dalea purpurea, Baptisia alba, Eryngium yuccifolium, Sorghastrum nutans, Parthenium integrifolium, Silphium laciniatum, and Silphium terebinthinaceum. Given that the core of this species’ range is in the Ozarks of Missouri, I wonder whether Silene regia was simply dispersal-limited. Now that it has human assistance through widespread seeding in many restorations and even ornamental plantings (due to its showy flowers), it may be more widespread in the region than it ever was to begin with.
Thankfully, Agalinis auriculata also seems to be doing quite well from seeding in restorations as it was present in at least two sites outside of the original two remnant sites at Midewin. The restored populations may now even outnumber the remnants. It would be interesting to monitor these restored populations and verify whether this is true. I believe that this shows that many plants are only rare because of lack of habitat, and that re-creating the habitat where it had been erased previously, and re-introducing these species, can be a resounding success.
