There has been a prolonged stretch of hot, humid days here in Maryland.  This weather can make field work unpleasant at times but there is a silver lining.  The decrease in the amount of rain, which is normal for this time of year, allows the Potomac River to drop to lower levels.  This drop has implications for the rare plant survey work I am tasked with for my internship.  River scour habitats were a new concept to me when I first got here and read about them.  The idea of grassland maintained by erosion from flood waters on river islands and river edge habitats was something I never really thought about.  With the drop in water levels on the Potomac, surveying these river habitats has gone to the forefront in my mind.  In particular, the historical records of the federally-endangered Haperella (Ptilimnium nodosum) within the canal have caught my interest.  The last time this plant was seen on the Potomac was around 20 years ago.  Even though I know the chances of finding it are remote, I still can’t help but hold out a little hope.  This plant has a habit of popping up in random river scour bars one year and disappearing the next.  From the little exposure I have to these scour bars it seems apparent that the invasive plant Japanese Knotweed (among several other invasives) also thrives in this disturbed soil.  One of the harder parts of my internship is seeing situations where rare plants are under assault from invasives and knowing how best to contribute to dealing with the problem in a meaningful way in light of the limited time I will be here.

Looking upstream on the Potomac in western Maryland. The plant at the bottom of the photo is Water Willow (Justicia americana) which is very fond of growing on the edges of these scour bars.

The development of a Weed Warrior program was also one of the tasks of my internship.  Another intern and I will be giving a presentation on several invasive plants commonly found in the canal as well as control methods and native look-alikes for each.  I read a statistic in a published paper that stated 33% of the flora of the Mid-Atlantic region is considered non-native to the region or North America.  I was surprised by that number honestly.  It really underlines the importance of efforts like this for the National Park Service moving forward.  It also poses some difficulties in prioritizing how to develop a program such as this with limited time and resources to train volunteers.

This experience will no doubt be valuable to me as a person that wants to be a nature preserve manager one day.  The part I am looking forward to most is meeting one on one with the individuals afterwards and learning the challenges of maintaining a volunteer-led invasive control effort.  I also hope to learn how to tailor future educational exercises for volunteers interested in invasive removal as well as knowing who these people are and why they chose to volunteer in this particular way.

I haven’t done as much botanical surveying since my last post.  One reason for this is because I participated in a wetland plant identification course at the National Conservation Training Center in West Virginia last week.  This was a great experience.  Of the three instructors for the course, one was an author for Flora of North America and another had a major hand in developing the wetland indicator codes assigned by the USDA.  He also founded a herbarium.  Needless to say it was great being around so many knowledgeable botanists.  It was also nice talking to the other students in the class, many with permanent federal jobs, who had some helpful advice about seasonal work and graduate schools.

On one of the few trips I made into the field recently I snapped a couple interesting photos.

Purple Cliffbrake (Pellaea atropurpurea) This cool looking fern was growing in the masonry walls of one of the canal locks.

Common Water Snake. When I stumbled upon this snake I thought for sure it was a Copperhead. However, after seeing the rounded pupils of the eyes I knew it was not vemonous.

Coleman Minney

Field Botany Intern

Chesapeake and Ohio National Historical Park

I’m lounging—literally lounging—on the tundra, reindeer lichens crunching under my Xtratuffs, and I’m not wearing a bug net. I’m not wearing rain gear either. Or a down puffy jacket, or even a hat. And I’m lying belly down on the cushy tundra staring at the mucronate involucral bracts of a Luzula through my hand lens.

Above me, puffy cumulous clouds float through blue sky. Below, a creek rushes through
alders into a series of beaver ponds and the robotic starship song of a gray-cheeked thrush carries up on the wind. We didn’t even have to thrash through those alders to get here. We flew—at 100 knots per hour—on a Robinson 44 helicopter over rolling lichen-covered hills and frost-wedge polygon patterned tundra and streams choked so full of chum salmon you can’t even see the bottom. We sent a grizzly sow and her two cubs romping over the tundra, watched two moose calves follow their mother into an alder thicket, and, tucked in a steep drainage, caught a glimpse of a big lone muskox bull, his long shaggy coat waving in the breeze. Flying along the beach, we saw a bloated dead walrus, its tusks not yet harvested by the local natives who scan the beaches every day for treasures to collect and sell or turn into artwork.

Mind you—this is NOT normal. This is the kind of day we live for in Alaska, the day we can’t stop thinking about for weeks afterward, the day we earn through hundreds of less ideal days in trade. The day we dream of during weeks of office drudgery in December when it’s 40-below and dark at 10:00am.

This is the day I’ve earned by countless others spent soaked to the bone in cold driving rain that deems my Rite-in-the-Rain datasheets un-writable, which doesn’t really matter anyway because my fingers have lost all motor functionality for writing. The days spent tussock-hopping over ankle-twisting towers of cottongrass wearing a suffocating headnet and rain gear not because it’s raining but to guard against the pursuit of a persistent buzzing cloud of mosquitoes that find their way into my shirt sleeves and munch at the gap between my headnet and the collar of my shirt. The days of stifling heat and wildfire smoke that boil the sweat in my muck boots and give me black crusty nostrils and a splitting headache. The miles spent thrashing through alders, balancing on flexible stems and trying in vain to find the “grain” to travel with, toting a 10-foot soil auger in one hand, wondering if I’m due up yet for a surprise bear encounter after five seasons of luck.

None of this is to say that I don’t thoroughly appreciate a good ass-kicking every once in a while. Deep down, even the most timid Alaskan will admit to feeling a sense of pleasure after a day of humbling defeat in a stand of dog-hair spruce and boot-sucking muck.

***

The challenge of getting through this country is one of many reasons I am currently lounging on a hillside overlooking miles of untouched valleys and hills in western Alaska, mapping its soils and vegetation communities for the first time in history, with not a cabin or cut tree or trail in sight. Alaskans are a tough and stubborn breed, and talking to us you may be led to believe that this state is one of majestic wild terrain with megafauna and endless treasures awaiting around every corner. That we eat salmon and moose for every meal and blueberries stain every pocket. Well, it’s true. You just might find our comfort standards to be a bit skewed from the social norm.

***

As I wrap up the last touches on this post, I am watching rain sheet off the windows of our bunkhouse and roofing on the shack next door rattles with the wind blowing off the Bering Sea. It is back to the daily grind of waiting out weather and preparing for another week of wet field work. But as a co-worker and I learned in the evening calm last night, the blustery wind provides luxurious relief from the mosquitoes that frequent the tundra outside town, and we profited with two gallons of blueberries picked in the lovely afternoon light of 10:00pm. Up here, you learn to appreciate the little things. And, well, the little things are pretty freaking amazing.

The monitoring season has come to a pause until next spring. We have checked off all but one of the R/T/E plants (Sericocarpus rigidus) this season and have actually come out ahead of schedule. S. rigidus is just beginning to flower, while others such as Lomatium bradshawii have succumbed to mere litter and thatch, completely indiscernible.  So, for now, I had to come up with some sort of project to work on among the more intermittent tasks I’ll be doing such as seed collecting, site maintenance, monitoring youth crew, etc. For the time being I will be working on a plant identification guide of the West Eugene wetland plants for future interns. We already have a list of all known wetland plants in Eugene, so I am basically building the guide off of that by figuring out their primary habitat type (emergent, wet prairie, upland) based on their wetland indicator status as well as where I’ve seen them primarily in the field, and sorting them by those categories and by family. I have a total of 384 species that I am finding notable characteristics for quick identification in the field.  Part of the idea is that since this is meant for only the West Eugene wetlands, you don’t have to key them out, but instead go to the section according to the habitat type you are currently in, or the index in the back with the species list and page numbers, or use the list of family characteristics I will be providing to verify the species you are looking at. And of course there will be photos associated with each species so if you’re not sure if the description fits, just see if it looks like it.  Since this is for only Eugene and there are only 384 plants to discern between (most of which look nothing alike), the photo you are looking at and the plant in front of you are likely going to be the same species.  I’m hoping this will be an easy, quick, and educational way for future interns to learn all the plants in the West Eugene wetlands.

Here are the main rare and endangered plant and insect species we monitored this season that will also be included in the “quick-guide”:

Lupinus oreganus

Icaricia icarioides fenderi

Lomatium bradshawii

Horkelia congesta

Sericocarpus rigidus

Erigeron decumbens

Until next time!

Danica Maloney

BLM West Eugene Wetlands

Oregon

My first two weeks working at Fort Ord National Monument were exciting, extremely varied, and a tremendous amount of learning compressed in a short amount of time. In those two weeks I watered native plant restoration sites, exterminated stands of invasive mustard, hemlock, and thistle, mapped the location of oaks using GPS and GIS, tracked a collared ground squirrel using telemetry, attended meetings planning heavy equipment projects and a central California invasive weeds symposium, collected native lily, silk tassel, and venus thistle seeds, and drove 4wd trucks on dirt roads around Fort Ord, waving at passing hikers. Needless to say, it was a lot – something new every day, or sometimes every half day. Tiring, but also fun, challenging, and rewarding.

Watering a young oak in a stand of dried up thistle

One of the highlights of those first two weeks was using telemetry to find the ground squirrel collared by a research team from CSUMB (California State University, Monterey Bay). It involved hiking a steep canyon while carrying an antennae over my head and using the volume of a steady beeping as an indicator of proximity to the squirrel. In the end we were able to pinpoint the squirrel’s location to a tunnel underneath a bush, and laid down a trap baited with a smelly peanut butter and tuna sandwich.

In my second week, while hiking through rolling hills covered in yellow grass, we came across a few white praying mantises frolicking in the grass. They really are some odd creatures:

A strange and beautiful insect

A whiter one

The purpose of the hike was to reach an old goat grazing plot where Ranger Manny had remembered seeing lily plants in need of seed collecting. However, when he last saw them it was springtime and the lilies were in full bloom, but now in the middle of summer the dried up lilies camouflaged perfectly with all the other dried up plants, so finding them was a bit of an easter egg hunt. But the whole time we were surrounded by beautiful sweeping views:

Eye candy

“KYAAWW!”  -red tailed hawk

The landscape really evokes feelings of a cowboy roaming the wild west, what with the swaying yellow grasslands littered with coyote brush, the turkey vultures circling overhead, and the occasional cry of a red tailed hawk. That was the setting of a lot of my field work during those first two weeks, along with some oak woodland and maritime chaparral. Not too bad of an office.

Sean Pagnon, BLM Fort Ord National Monument, CA

This post marks the first month of my employment with the CLM. I didn’t know what to expect as I packed my bags and drove from Kalamazoo, MI to Kremmling, CO to work with the BLM. Kremmling is a small ranching town located about two hours west of Denver and is radically different than the suburban Midwest. I am still wrapping my head around the sheer expanse of the country here. Kremmling features prime sagebrush habitat, diverse wildlife and you guessed it a lot of cows. There are limited housing options in Kremmling and it almost made me pass on the position. Fortunately, a co-worker at the office offered me a room at his place. The house is custom made and is heated in the winter using a radiant heating system, which is very cool.

My home away from home for the next 5 months. I did not expect to be staying in such a nice place, but I am not going to complain.

My position involves working on the AIM project, which stands for Assessment, Inventory and Monitoring. AIM is an ambitious project intended to provide the BLM with up to date large sale ecological data. The new data is important as it will allow decision makers to better mange natural recourses and identify valuable habitats across field offices. Our main focus is identifying suitable habitat for the sage grouse, which has lost significant habitat to development in the west.

The great part about my position is that it allows me to explore Colorado. Each week we are assigned several plots that are scattered across the northwest quadrant of the state. My mentor, Amy, and I collect data on plant species richness, distribution and heights. We also collect data on abiotic conditions such the physical geography, soil texture, and soil stability. That data is used, mainly to determine the erosion susceptibility of a site.

Amy and I identifying plants along a transect. The blue avalanche poll in the upper left is used to measure plant height.

Action shot of a soil pit, at a sagebrush site. The soil was very sandy here, which made for easy digging. Sometimes getting to the standard 70cm can be a struggle.

Each plot we are assigned can be located in various ecosystems, ranging from sagebrush, pinyon-juniper, aspen, gambel oak and others. This presents unique challenges when it comes to identifying plants. I have been sharpening my plant terminology skills to make plant ID more efficient. Luckily, Amy is familiar with many of the plants we encounter, and can at least narrow them down to the family. When we cannot identify a plant in the field I get to practice pressing and cataloging plants to be identified later in the office. The field guide we rely on the most is Flora of Colorado by Jennifer Ackerfield. This 818 page book is very comprehensive, I am impressed that anyone could compile such a catalog of plants in a single lifetime.

Camp site in some aspen forest. The cabin belongs to Colorado Parks and Wildlife.

I am happy to be doing something meaningful for work. I enjoy driving around Colorado, hanging out with plants, and camping in beautiful places. The job is not always easy, the sun can get pretty intense in the mountains and the mosquitoes are extra hungry at altitude. There is also the added weight of knowing that my data must be correct in order to serve its purpose effectively. That aside, the past four weeks have been great, and I am looking forward to the next time I get to share my experiences on the blog. Before I go here is a nice picture of some cows.

Moo!

Kremmling CO, field office

Bureau of Land Management

Eli Lowry

CLM interns came from Buffalo, WY and Pinedale to celebrate the 4th of July with those in Lander. Jack came all the way from Taos, New Mexico! Lander is a unique small town in Wyoming. With the presence of the National Outdoor Leadership School, Lander attracts a younger crowd of folks from all across the nation. There is a great Thai food restaurant (among many others) and a lively night life.

If you like Thai food — this place was fantastic!

Rock climbing and bouldering is a popular recreation activity, one that I had yet to try before my visit. I only made it up a couple of the easier routes we climbed, but the mental and physical exercise was fulfilling, and the feeling at the top was remarkably gratifying. I look forward to practicing this sport more often.

Saturday night led our crew of seasonal workers into the WInds.

One guitar and many good friends in the wilderness of the mountains created a night full of story-telling and laughter. Kumbaya was never on our playlist, but some of the group’s favorite songs echoed through our camp site as we sat around the fire. Yes, “Wagon Wheel” was the first one that came to mind for us, too. We roasted marshmallows and feasted on smores. We learned things about each other that were not allowed to leave the fire circle that night. We fell asleep to the sounds of the rushing river below us, and woke up to a peaceful sunrise over the lake.

The morning of the 4th started off with the parade / water fight. As the floats, trucks, people and animals walk by with proud advertisement, water balloons flew from every direction. Many people even had super-soaker water guns. By no surprise, the Lander Fire Department won by a landslide. Every once in a while, some of us would bravely run out in the street, scrambling to grab Tootsie-Rolls and Fruities (no children were harmed).

After the parade, a few of us walked to the grocery store, where we filled a shopping cart with all of the necessities for a summer weekend cook-out. We all gathered outside of the apartment in the courtyard where the festivities began and lasted all afternoon. So many good people and good vibes; I could not have asked for a better way to celebrate.

The grill-master and MVP of the weekend, Ryan

Many left in the afternoon to head back home; a bitter-sweet departure. With a few hours of daylight left, Rachael, Jack and I decided to go for a bouldering/hiking adventure back into Sinks Canyon. We hiked up to Sinks Falls, where there is a 15-foot natural slide into a pool of ice-cold water. I remember sitting at the top, thinking to myself, “why are we doing this!?” After one slight movement, gravity and loss-of-friction takes over, and there is no going back. Soon the cold water induces a scream as we came up for air, swimming a bit faster than usual to get back on shore. That submerge felt so incredibly refreshing and revitalizing, I remember thinking, “yes, this is why we do this.” 

Though our fireworks could not compete with our neighbors, it was great fun to run around the streets with sparklers, snappers and fountains. One of the “flying” rockets we lit off was suppose to go into the air and spin rapidly. Instead, it fell to its side and shot off in the direction we were all standing. We all ran away frantically, a mix of fear and gut-wrenching laughter. I was overcome and filled with child-like joy.

After our shenanigans in the streets, we grabbed a bag of chips, our sweatshirts and blankets and headed up to the roof of the apartment to watch the rest of the show.

Fireworks light up the sky around the entire city of Lander on the 4th of July. It was by far the most entertaining and extraordinary firework show I have ever seen. From the neighborhood streets to the fairgrounds, friends and family set up their stations for hours of colorful fire and explosions. Words truly cannot do this 4th of July celebration justice — a must see if you are ever in this part of the country for the holiday.

To future interns — if you are worried or concerned about being “in the middle of nowhere,” know that so many are in the same place as you. With a little planning and out-reach, you can create an incredible weekend of adventure and make good friends along the way. I cannot wait to go back to Lander and visit. However, this weekend is Rendezvous Weekend in Pinedale! Activities all day and all night long outside from Thursday – Friday.

When I left Burns last October I didn’t think I’d be back in Oregon for a long time. Yet, here I am again 8 months later living in the pretty green city that I passed through on my way to other adventures last summer. Compared to Burns, Prineville is a big city…. well its 3x bigger in population and only 45 minutes from Bend, the biggest city in central Oregon.

During my first CLM internship my job was emergency stabilization and rehabilitation monitoring. After a summer working in the high desert though, I realized that I missed being near water and decided to focus on getting jobs related to aquatic ecology. This summer I’m working as an aquatic AIM (Assessment, Inventory, and Monitoring) technician. Basically, I take physical habitat and water quality measurements of streams on BLM lands. Learning the aquatic AIM protocol was fairly exciting for a number of reasons. The protocol, which is being developed by the National Aquatic Monitoring Center, Utah State University, and BLM is new (in-fact the official protocol is unpublished), so I felt privileged to be among the first technicians to be trained to use it and the very first to implement it for the Prineville BLM. I’ve never been to Utah, so of course traveling there and crossing off another state was a plus.
After a week of training in Utah it was time to implement AIM in the field. Our first site was on the North Fork of the John Day and unsurprisingly getting into the work flow was kind of slow. Reaches (the stream survey length) can range anywhere from 150m to 2km. On the North Fork of the John Day the reach was 800m long and consisted of pools so deep that were impossible for me to wade –least I top my waders. Remembering left bank and right bank and transect letters (where data is collected) was counter-intuitive at first. In AIM transects are labeled KA with K being the topmost part of the reach and A the bottommost point. Left and right bank orientation is considered while facing downstream, however data is collected starting at A and walking upstream.
Nine completed sites later and all of this is second nature. Hopefully next time I blog we will be 2/3 of the way through our monitoring.

-Jessica