June has been filled with many learning experiences including plant ID, habitat assessments, surveys, and scouting. The first several weeks consisted of a crash course on Habitat Assessment Frameworks (HAFs). These are super interesting because they were originally used for surveying Sage Grouse habitat but have since been adapted to map out native species, invasive species (cheat grass), and sagebrush cover.
Our first pollinator survey, adoringly referred to as a “Bee Blitz”, occurred in the 3rd week of the month as we looked for the elusive B. morrisoni. The pollinator surveys definitely got a bit competitive as people split up to collect a variety of specimens.
Spending time in the Big Hole Battlefield was probably one of my favorite projects that we have worked on so far. Spending time and camping out in an area of historical significance while getting great views and surveying the rare Lemhi Penstemon is definitely a project to remember moving forward with this field season.
After taking this position I knew it would be hard on both my brain and my body. During the weeks leading up to my first day, I was only thinking about learning complex scientific names or the labor of pulling out invasives. I never thought to stop and think about the opportunity I was given, that nature would become my office. The hot sunny days and bug swarms leave me unbothered as I think about my break room being a riverbed, my cubicle a mountaintop, and my commute a forest lined trail. Do not be fooled, everyday is hard work (lots of sweat) but its rewarding and beautiful. I hope I can give some of my favorite spots the justice they deserve so you can enjoy them too!
Slide creek Falls:
Slide creek falls viewed by other Umpqua National Forest Botany Interns
Just a short drive in, off of OR-138 you come upon this beautiful horsetail falls. It spills into a small blue pool. The spray gives life to the moss, ferns, and other little flowers you find there. You perch yourself on the ridge as your friends work their way to a log. You break out a snack and sit in silence. Now you’re trying your hardest to take in every moment, to be able to remember every detail, to be able see it even after you leave.
Twin Lakes:
View of one of the Twin Lakes
A few miles into the forest you reach a trailhead. It seems particularly normal, so you go down the 1.25 mile trail to the pair of lakes on your map. It only takes a few minutes of climbing before you reach a plateau. You look out to your right and see Mt. Bailey with her snow capped peak off in the distance. You pause, instantly feeling small. You stand there thinking it’s time for a water break, maybe more for the view than the actual need for rest. As you move on you spot a blooming trillium and a little lady bug (you have to take the time to count her spots!!). You realize how big and impactful your presence is. Further down a lean-to hints that you have reached your destination. Soon you see the lake’s crystal clear water. It only takes a few seconds before you spot your first fish. The gentle wind feels cool on your skin and all you can do is be present and smile.
In just a couple of weeks you have visited numerous awe-inspiring places. As I continue to work and explore this national forest I try to see the beauty around every corner. Time is truly fleeting but my memories of the Umpqua will stay with me forever.
Being at Midewin National Tallgrass Prairie the past month has been a beautiful experience and I’m stoked to continue this journey. Growing up all my life only about 30 minutes north of here I was shocked that I had never heard about this place until just less than a couple of years ago. The prairie is such an intoxicating space of biodiversity and natural ecology running its course. The plethora of colors and smells as you walk through the ever growing tall matrix of forbs and grasses, most of which has been rapidly growing taller and taller within the last few hot summer weeks.
Sand Ridge on the west side of Midewin.
I am super grateful to have had this opportunity to put work into something truly rewarding for myself, others, and the environment. All across the world we deal with ecosystems struggling for stability due to development and agriculture. More recently within the last year, learning native plants has been an eye-opener. Driving down streets I used to think were beautiful due to the oceans of green around me now I see degradation and a lack of native vegetation, a heavy reminder of how severe this issue really is. Now I see areas that are graveyards of past fauna and flora of this land, truly realizing the scale of degradation of the natural ecosystem of my home state. Nonetheless, there is hope. Parts of Midewin serve as a sanctuary for what Illinois should look like, or will look like, providing habitat for a variety of plants and animals.
Touching the leaf of Silphium terebinthinaceum (Prairie Dock), the leaf feels cold to the touch due to the xylem plant tissue pumping cold water through the leaf, the tap root of this Silphium can grow longer than 14 feet deep!!Midewin CLM Crew! Grateful to be working with passionate, dedicated, and knowledgeable native seed collectors. Opuntia cespitosa (Eastern Pricklypear) growing on a area of exposed Dolomite bedrock, this rare unique ecosystem is called the Dolomite Prairie and it is home to some pretty special native plants
Even though most prairies in Illinois deal a lot with invasive species it in turn causes native plants to be precious gemstones of the prairie. We have to be grateful for what we have left and look forward to the future of protecting these plants and natural areas and spreading the scientific ecological message through compassion and understanding. Midewin is unique in the sense of conservation due to most of the project being a complete reconstruction. It is true there are remnant “ scraps” ( Soil tilled over and moved) that contain a native seed bank. But for the most part Midewin is a restoration project, so most of the native plants there have been seeded in since the late 90s.
Platanthera leucophaea (Prairie White Fringed Orchid)Silphiumlaciniatum (Compass Plant) and Eryngium yuccifolium (Rattlesnake Master)
Midewin was home to pre colonial indigenous tribes, then it was plowed when settlers moved westward. Then in the 1940s the government bought out all the property and made it the Joliet Arsenal which was active up until the end of the Vietnam war. Midewin land has had so many lives run their course in its presence and I think the land carries all of this with it both physically and metaphorically. In Illinois less than 0.01% of the original 21 million acres of prairie remains, less than 2,300 acres. On the bright side, since 1996 Midewin members of the forest service, partner organizations and volunteer groups have been able to restore roughly 6,000 acres of native vegetation, this includes tall grass prairies, sedge meadows, a variety of wetlands, a sand ridge, and oak savannas. It is such a satisfying feeling going into work for the day knowing what you are doing is making a positive impact outside of a profit incentive. I understand that the prairie and wetlands here are not going to look like they did 400 years ago but I think restoration is truly a positive step in the right direction with the right planning and ecological intentions, always asking questions and having awareness of the long term effect of influencing the natural world.
Dalea purpurea (Purple Prairie Clover) leaves have a very ocean salt like smell to themEpargyreus clarus (Silver-Spotted Skipper)Amorpha canescens (Lead Plant)Desmanthus illinoensis (Illinois Bundleflower/Prairie Mimosa)Dalea purpurea (Purple Prairie Clover)
“The vastness of the grasslands inspires the openness of spirit”…
This seductive, ecophilic line echoes through my mind every time I lift my head from my work. Laying on my tummy, eyes immersed in the damp understory of the prairie, the sudden panorama of the grasslands stretching for miles around me keeps catching me off guard. At the horizon, Paha Sapa (the Black Hills) border our Hay Canyon research site, and the sedimentary formations of Mako Sica (the Badlands) border Cedar Pass. The effect of this setting on the nervous system is immense- I remember to breathe, I’m filled with gratitude, I feel myself smile. My coworkers and I echo to one another, “it is so beautiful here….”
Paha Sapa (the Black Hills) border the horizon of the Hay Canyon research site in Buffalo Gap National Grasslands. The mixed-short-grass prairie is dominated by yellow sweet clover (Melilotus officinalis).
I’ve thought a lot about the experience of wonder in everyday life while working here. Wonder in the everyday has been a growing theme for me over the last five years exploring the shores of Gitchi Gami (Lake Superior), and now living in Paha Sapa. Growing up, before I realized I could make a career in the outdoors, such experiences of wonder were novel. Visiting Paha Sapa and Mako Sica as a pre-teen with my family came in the form of a packaged vacation experience, complete with Mt. Rushmore and Devil’s Tower voyeurism and starkly colonial narratives. These trips of course contained stunning views and showcased feats of human and nature’s ingenuity, but always ended with a return to the ugly, concrete smothered suburbs of home, and the immersive wonders of nature would soon fall from my mind.
This last week, working solo in the field for 7 hours a day snipping and sorting grass culms, I listened to the audiobook of “The Body Keeps the Score” by B. van der Kolk, M.D. This book is about how trauma shapes our brains and bodies. Van der Kolk explains the disassociation that defines trauma; how our brain’s alarm systems become overwhelmed by incomprehensible stress, beyond our range of biological tolerance, resulting in permanent changes to our physiological functions. The experience of wonder is fascinating to compare- Similarly to trauma, wonder occurs when our experience is beyond what our brains can tolerate and what our minds have frameworks for. Both trauma and wonder occur as an involuntary surrender to incomprehensible experience. Neuroscience explains how both states stimulate the vagus nerve and the same areas of the brain, but in different ways; the effects on the body and spirit seem to be opposite.
Trauma creates a constant sense of danger and helplessness, trapping us in an over-active self-preservation mode that weakens our immune systems and internal functioning. It transforms our worlds into small, self-centered ones where we are in opposition to all. Wonder also transforms the way we see ourselves, making us small, but this occurs in a quiet, humble way. We feel small because the world around us is so grand, mysterious, and deliciously incomprehensible. We are struck by the sense that we are a tiny yet integral part of a greater whole. This connection to the Other and the All fosters peace within our minds and bodies, makes connection to others not only possible, but a driving and undeniable force of life. I see myself reflected in each flower, insect, lichen, cloud, and breeze.
Working outdoors and in ecological fields gifts me with wonder daily, though this is something I’ve had to work hard to access. Studies show that one of the prime ways humans experience wonder is in the moral beauty of others. Growing up, the philosophy of life on earth was presented to me in a “man vs. nature” way, the moral ugliness of which fostered misanthropy. I saw all the ways we interacted with nature as destructive and extractive, as if our role on this planet was antagonistic and hopeless. But education and commitment to ecological study requires in-depth understandings of land-management policy and guiding moral philosophies across time and different cultures. It reveals the multitudes of ways humans have co-existed with and stewarded this planet and our fundamental connection and roles in our home ecosystems.
We work with two Doctors of plant science. I collect such mentors gratefully, learning about how to exist sustainably in this work and taking note of the inspirations and drive of different personalities committed to land stewardship. The quiet confidence and gratitude in one another’s work is reassuring. Working along these professionals is an important reminder that as individuals and as a species, humans have always found life-sustaining meaning and relation to the plants around us. We are no less dependent on them physically and spiritually today than our ancestors were. The moral beauty of these understandings, guided largely by Indigenous wisdom, yet present in all humans, guides my daily experience and often leaves me at a loss for words- pure awe in the wonder of it all.
It started off innocuous enough. Shin high fields of green forbs, speckled with yellow inflorescences, grasses still peaking through their canopy. It was not long until I realized their true nature. Melilotus officinalis, or yellow sweet clover, an old enemy from my time in the tallgrass prairies of Iowa, more a nuisance than anything. Here in Buffalo Gap National Grassland, SD, they reign supreme, fed on the rains of last year, granting them the strength to dominate these vast fields.
RMRS technician Bella overlooks our plots as we learn about the plants of the northern mixed-grass prairie.
Before we knew it, it seemed to swallow us up as it grew ever upward, the scent of honey thickening the air into a strange gaseous syrup. The M. officinalis stood at chest height with us, and as we ducked beneath its canopy to observe the rest of the plants hiding beneath it, we entered new worlds. A cover survey became a bushwhack through this seasonal midwestern jungle. Stem counts became a dive beneath vegetative waves. No step could be made without the fear of crushing the clover which enveloped our research plots. Their dominance does seem to be waning though, as the dry heat of the summer begins to transform them into brittle husks of their previous selves. And with this desiccation, I see hope, though I fear for the health of the other plants which have lived under the iron fist of sweet clover this year.
The team performs cover surveys.Peaking over at Badlands National Park from one of our research sites.
It is hard to believe that I have already been here in South Dakota for a month and half! My time here has felt like a whirlwind of change. In May I walked across a stage and received my Bachelor’s degree, and early the next morning I took off on my own in my hastily packed car, my course set for the Black Hills. From there, I hit the ground running at the Rocky Mountain Research Station in Rapid City, SD, training with the other seasonals on my team. A first-aid class, Forest Service driver’s license, and crash course in local plant ID later, and we were off to the field.
Our work takes us out of the hills into the fields of Buffalo Gap National Grassland where we hope to determine the effects of varying seasonal drought conditions and grazing on the the growth, physiology, and diversity of the mixed-grass prairie. When we are asked what we do, we have taken to telling people that we are trying to make sure that the cows, bison, and grazing wildlife have food each year. Which we are often reminded of as rancher’s cattle watch us from the distance. Most days are spent with our heads near the ground as we identify, count, and measure the various species which make up the grassland community. If you could not tell by my little introduction, this community is currently uncharacteristically dominated by M. officinalis, whose first-year seedlings last year benefitted from a rather wet season, resulting in the explosion of yellow we now see.
A herd of bison remind me that traffic in Custer State Park is not always wheeled.
I don’t spend all of my time hanging out in the grasslands though, as I live nearly smack dab in the middle of the Black Hills. In fact, my backyard is literally the Black Hills National Forest! A short walk out my back door and I am lost in slopes of ponderosa pines, a perfect escape when I need a little bit of space from the ever-present tourists who come to see Mount Rushmore, which is also only about 20 minutes from my house.
What I was not expecting though, was that one of the most striking features here would be the consistently picturesque clouds which form over the Hills. Each day seems to produce an uniquely beautiful cloud formation for us, though I am still learning what each is trying to tell us about the weather at that moment, as my now hail-dimpled car can tell you from experience. All the same, the rock formations here, which could often be described as cathedral-like in their own right, are often overshadowed by the vast mountains of water vapor which are built above them. I feel bad waxing poetically about them when there is still the Hills themselves to talk about properly, but there are still more blog posts to make, so I am sure I will get to it.
Black Elk Peak, which we had just climbed, crowned in the characteristically beautiful clouds of the Black Hills.
I am already thankful to be able to spend another season out in the field, and I am looking forward to continuing to learn from the rest of my time here with the RMRS!
Beginning work on a new project can be intimidating. Whether it is learning the rhythm of a new team, the native species in a new region, or just finding the right folks you need to talk to in a new office. However, that was far from the case beginning my work here at the San Bernardino National Forest (SBNF).
Day #1
My first week at the SBNF involved working alongside members from the Wilderness Volunteers, an organization providing volunteer opportunities to conserve America’s wild lands through collaboration with the US Forest Service, National Park Service, the BLM, US Fish & Wildlife, and others. It was, in my opinion, an excellent introduction as I was able to learn alongside the volunteers some of the processes involved in greenhouse management and restoration site maintenance. Myself, and the volunteers, got to see the journey native plants take as they transition from seed, to small yellow bullet nursery pots, to larger black bullet nursery pots, and eventually to outplants that are used in re-vegetating sites throughout the SBNF with the aim of establishing native populations in fire scar areas as well as areas degraded by invasive species and unauthorized OHV (off-highway vehicle) usage. I felt like I was watching the process through similar eyes as the volunteers; fascinated by California’s diverse and beautiful native species as well as the highly controlled protocols followed by the SBNF when growing and handling them. These strategies are in place to prevent the spread of the water-borne pathogen Phytophthora (responsible for root rot and other nasty plant infections) from the greenhouse to the wild populations we aim to protect and restore. Some of the species we handled on that first day in the greenhouse include: Rubber rabbitbrush (Ericameria nauseosa), Big sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata), and Scarlet bugler (Penstemon centranthifolius).
Myself (left) alongside one of the Wilderness Volunteers transplanting seedlings which have outgrown their yellow nursery pots into larger black bullet nursery pots. (Photo by the Wilderness Volunteers)
Day #2
After spending day #1 getting our fingers dirty in sterile potting soil, day #2 and day #3 had us trek to actual restoration sites in the SBNF. Both sites were located near my new home away from home, one of the Forest Service cabins in Lake Arrowhead, CA. Therefore, I got to start my days with a short morning walk through the Manzanitas and yellow pines from the cabin to our nearby designated meeting point where we touched base before beginning the days work. After discussing our given restoration tasks (weeding, mulching, and watering) we took a short hike through some of the tall invasive cheatgrass surrounding the camp site until we reached our destination, a small plot of land tucked in right next to the local water treatment facility. That first day was HOT (one of the many joys of summer field work in Southern California) so it was amazing to see what good spirits the Wilderness Volunteers were in despite the harsh working conditions. We spent an hour or so weeding some of the invasive grasses and weeds that began to establish in the empty areas of the site. I even got the chance to take a few swings at using a root wrench to pull out the deep tap roots of large established Scotch Broom shrubs (Cytisus scoparius)! Some of those swings were successful and others were less so, but it was a great experience in team building and utilizing different peoples skill sets to achieve a common goal. After weeding there was mulch to be spread in order to prevent new invaders from colonizing the open ground remaining between the native outplants. We spread a LOT of mulch (approximately 8.5 yds3) using wheelbarrows and 5-gallon buckets to transport our precious cargo from the large mulch pile to areas of the site where it would be spread evenly. Throughout this process I could hear the sounds of curious volunteers asking about different native species, noticing a random wildflower, or even a butterfly dancing in the light breeze. At one point we even found a stow away western toad in our mulch pile! I enjoyed watching the ground cover transition from small patches of light brown with grayish-tan sections of open soil to a vast field of rich pine brown dotted with the beautiful light gray-ish green of many of California’s native plants throughout.
Day #2’s restoration site before and after a day spent weeding, mulching, and watering. (Photos by the Wilderness Volunteers)
Day #3
Day #3 with the volunteers was much the same as day #2 as we conducted similar restoration site maintenance at two additional sites around Lake Arrowhead, CA. These sites were bordered with large monocultures of Mountain Whitethorn (Ceanothus cordulatus), a native species which highlighted that not all natives are good for increasing biodiversity. Ceanothus is highly adapted to fire and thrives in disturbed areas with open canopy colonizing these areas and ultimately crowding out any other native shrubs, trees, or herbaceous plants from gaining a foothold post-wildfire. In addition to the ecological war for space waging at its border, this site had another unique challenge due to the plants being out-planted onto a hillside. This made moving mulch and water up to each of the plants a bit more laborious but just as with Day #2’s heat, the volunteers handled the harsh field conditions with a positive spirit that really had a way of rubbing off onto me and lifting my spirits in general. There is nothing like struggling a bit with a team to bring people together! Combining our brains and brawn together we decided the most efficient way of moving heavy buckets full of water and mulch up the hillside would be through forming a human chain and passing buckets from one person to the next so each of us only had to cover a short distance. This technique worked so well we were able to complete these sites and still maintain smiles on all our faces when we posed for a final group photo to commemorate the days work.
Myself (center left), alongside botany tech Jorge Rodriguez (back right), and the Wilderness Volunteers posed in front of newly mounted signage calling attention to the sensitive species we were maintaining at day #3’s restoration site in Lake Arrowhead, CA. (Photo by the Wilderness Volunteers)
The unknowns of new beginnings can be intimidating, however working alongside all the folks at the SBNF as well as the volunteers who generously offered their time and energy for the sake of preserving native habitat truly made me feel welcomed and inspired! In total during my first week I assisted in using 1200 gal of water on outplants, maintaining 1 acre of restoration sites, and transplanting approximately 320 plants in the greenhouse here at the SBNF. None of this work could be completed alone, and I cannot wait for what the rest of this season has in store for myself, and this team!
At a little over three weeks in the Malheur it both feels like I’ve been working here for years, and like I have no idea what I’m doing. We hit the ground running on our first day compiling data on our target species and have since been out in the field scouting nonstop. We’re looking for a series of grasses and forbs in the forest with large enough populations to collect seeds from for future restoration projects. Our primary focus this season is riparian species, so we’ve been searching through wet meadows, streambanks, and springs. As you can imagine, the mosquitos have been insufferable and seem to have a special affinity for my blood. Yet, we persevere!
I’ve never lived in a town as small as John Day, and within my first 4 hours in the area, a man who called himself ‘the candyman’ gave me free fudge (creepy? maybe! But it was good fudge), four deer ran past me and crossed the street at the crosswalk, and at least six deer were laying around in our front yard. This may seem commonplace to those of you who grew up in smaller towns, but as someone who has only lived in cities, I was pretty pumped. If I didn’t know about the issues with habituation, they would be my buddies by now.
Pictured: A doe taking in the shade of our bunkhouse on the day I arrived.
We’ve had several run-ins with animals in the field. On our second day, we helped with a bumblebee survey and a bold little chipmunk posed for us for our entire lunch break. One week in, we accidentally herded a group of humongous cows for at least two miles because they couldn’t figure out how to move to the side of the road. While scouting in the Murderer’s Creek area, Ivy and I encountered wild horses. I knew they existed in the area from a little anecdote about them on one of our maps, but it was completely different seeing them in person. I’d never seen a group of horses all the same color together, and it was hard to believe they were real.
Pictured: Sleepy bumblebee waking up from the ice bath we put her in after collecting her in the field. No bumblebees were harmed in the implementation of this survey!Pictured: One of many poses from aforementioned attention-seeking chipmunk.Pictured: Murderer’s creek wild horses.
In real news, our first few weeks have been very productive. We’ve identified over 75 populations of our target species, taken over 30 vouchers of suitable populations for collection, and started our first seed collection. An hour of collecting from a population of Ranunculus occidentalis yesterday gave us about 10g of seed. While this is a long way away from the nursery’s aim of 500g (a loooong way away), it’s a start!
Pictured: Ranunculus occidentalis seeds collected on July 1st.Pictured: Ivy looking through our initial Ranunculus collection.Pictured: Scouting points dropped as of 7/1.
The landscape of the Chicago region has gone through extensive changes since the last glaciation. If the land was not covered in glaciers it was tundra. Over the course of millennia the climate got wetter and warmer creating a taiga filled with boreal flora and fauna. Then getting drier and warmer it slowly morphed into prairie. The recession of the glaciers created almost all of the notable geographic features around Chicago, moraines, drumlins, and eskers. The Great Lakes and glacial outwash make up significant habitats such as the lakeshore, dolomite prairies, and the sand along the Kankakee River. Each has their own slough of life that highlights the geological significance.
During the past 2 centuries European settlers have created the most significant changes in the landscape. Farmers quickly transformed vast amounts of prairie in to pastures and buried just as much with the plow. Today only 6,100 acres out of the 21 million that were originally here remain. Some of these remnants are still under threat from human development. Recently a gravel prairie remnant, Bell Bowl prairie, was destroyed by the Rockford airport for a parking lot. Many of these remnants are fragmented from each other only surviving along edges such as railroads, power line easements, and fence rows. The disjunction creates islands of habitat that many valuable species cannot survive in. Mead’s milkweed and Hill’s thistle have almost completely vanished from our region due to their need of genetic diversity to reproduce. Much of the fauna has disappeared due to human development. The Eastern Meadowlark has faced significant decline due to habitat loss. The Meadowlark needs the grasslands here, whether it’s prairie or pasture, it just has to be large enough to. The reintroduction of bison back to Illinois is one of the most significant events for restoration as they readily capture the attention and imagination of those ignorant to what Illinois is. An interesting plant we monitored while at Midewin was Buffalo Clover. The clover survives primarily along the trails of Bison because the trampling scarifies the seeds allowing them to germinate. However, the only grazers the clovers see are deer so the only way the population is surviving is human management with fire. While humans have destroyed and disturbed all but a sliver of our natural areas, we are the only way that our ecosystems can change and continue to survive.
Everything that has followed the training in Chicago has been a wild ride with some big ups and downs, it wasn’t all bad but it was definitely not how I pictured my first month of fieldwork (which I suppose is fitting for the job). My first week in the Lincoln NF was amazing! The whole team consists of silly gooses and sweethearts which made acclimating to the new area much easier than I had anticipated. We spent most of the week tagging along with the wildlife crew on Mexican Spotted Owl and various Hawk surveys to get a better feel for the region and the types of terrain we’d be facing this season. We apparently got to experience a New Mexico Birder’s fantasy when we spotted a mating pair of Zone Tail Hawks and a Black Hawk within just a few hours of each other, and I had seen many pictures of the Mexican Spotted Owl, but it is not the same and getting stared at by one in real life.
Mexican Spotted Owl giving us the eye
I felt ready for the second week of work, we had found a good handful of plants we wanted to assess for collection and were ready to do some more in-depth scouting, but Monday didn’t quite turn out that way. We started the day like normal, and were invited to join on a night owl survey (which involved hiking with mice and getting a much closer look at the owls) so of course we were interested. This meant we took a good break after lunch to catch up on rest and were to return to the office at 4pm to commence the evening survey. We had heard of a small 5-acre fire starting that morning but didn’t think much of it as we heard no updates. I went to take a nap and rest up for the night’s adventures, but as soon as I lay down, a strong gust of wind blew my curtains open. This wind was immediately followed by sirens and helicopters. I left my room to find the rest of my housemates already gathered in the living room, I asked if the sirens were for the fire and all they said was “look outside”.
Smoke from the South Fork Fire blocking out the sun
It looked apocalyptic. We had a clear view from our front yard, and it appeared as if it were only miles from the house. We were on “SET” status, and soon we were on “GO”. We packed up all our belongings in less than an hour and we left. We were one of the first areas to be evacuated. I didn’t know what was going to happen but seeing the the mushroom cloud from 100 miles away was not the greatest comfort. We spent the rest of the week working from home and checking the wildfire apps every 30 minutes to see it reach closer and closer to town. It was devastating. Nearly all the areas we had just visited in our first week were within the red lines, and within the week, over 1000 structures in the area were lost. I honestly wasn’t sure if I was going to have a job after this, or if I would be moved to an entirely new place. But Ruidoso and the Lincoln team are a tough bunch. By the next week, we were sent to the Guadalupe Ranger District which is about an hour from Carlsbad NM. We ended up here for a week and a half surrounded by rocks, rattlers and ocotillos that happened to be green and in bloom (which I’d never thought I’d see). This was a whole new adventure, we learned about new desert plants and had the opportunity to explore a cave not open to the public, as well as experience an oasis in the middle of the Chihuahuan desert that I would have thought was folklore if I hadn’t seen it myself. It was an amazing opportunity granted by the most unfortunate of circumstances. We get to return to the Smokey Bear office this coming week, and this whole experience has made me unbelievably grateful for what I have and those around me. I am part of an amazing team and could not have asked for a better group to work with. I am more aware than ever of the importance of the work we are here to do and am ready to help the community I am so newly a part of in any way I can.
Moving always comes with unexpected problems. After living in Missoula, MT for the last two years, I moved up to Kalispell for this internship. I uprooted quite an extensive system of familiarity, but there are some connections that withstand the uprooting and room is made for new ones. I have had to regroup and reassess what relationships sustain me, and what resources and opportunities to pursue. The relationships built in human and ecological communities can both sustain and harm the player/actor and it is impossible in either world to live outside the web of connections. My co-intern and I have seen and learned a lot since we started a month ago, and below I share some stories of plants we encountered in their interconnected ecological webs, and the unusual and unique ways of life they devise to survive in their communities.
Tally Lake (the second deepest lake in Montana) is east of Kalispell.
Busy bees and toxic pollen
Flowering plants can develop intimate relationships with their pollinators, like the bumble bee. Some plants require a physical vibration to release pollen held tightly to their anthers, and bumble bees, unlike honeybees, can perform the essential “buzz pollination” that can shake this pollen loose (Dolan et al. 2021). Montana is a uniquely diverse state for bumble bees, with 28 species documented in Montana out of the 45 total found in North America (north of Mexico). This month we participated in the Montana Bumble Bee Atlas project, a community science project gathering data for tracking and conserving bumble bees (Bumble Bee Atlas). We traveled up the gravel road running alongside the North Fork of the Kalispell River (west of Glacier Park) to reach meadows of lupine and buckwheat flowers. The catch-and-release survey we conducted was a small data point in this comprehensive project aimed at sampling hundreds of locations across Montana.
Capture-and-release bumble bee surveys!
North Fork of the Flathead River
Some plants may require buzz pollination, but at least there are several different species of bumble bees to do the job. The Mountain death camas, Zigadenus elegans, has only one pollinator: the miner bee. The death camas is flowering right now, and the plant’s cream-colored flowers, dotted with green nectaries, look inviting. True to its name, however, the entire plant is toxic. Everything from the bulbs to the nectar and pollen contain the deadly neurotoxin zygacene. All pollinators but the miner bee, Andrena astragali, would drop dead if they tasted from this flower. A single bulb is enough to kill a human. Why would a plant kill all but one of its pollinators? The answer lies in the usefulness of the toxin to the miner bee. The kleptoparasitic cuckoo bee lays its eggs next to the miner bee eggs, expecting a meal from the food cache the miner bee left for its own young. Once hatched, the cuckoo bee eats the toxic food cache, laced with zygacene poison from the death camas plant. Only the miner bee has an innate immunity, so the kleptoparasite dies, ridding the miner beehive of the pest. In return, the mountain death-camas gains a loyal, mutually codependent pollinator (Mitton 2022).
The beautiful but deadly Zigadenus elegans
The making of a unique community: the fen and friends
Many of the rare plants we are searching for are encountered in wetlands, particularly fens. A fen is characterized by the presence of peat (sphagnum moss), a pH greater than 6 (neutral to basic), and a year-round supply of mineral-rich groundwater (Keddy 2010). The groundwater chemistry of a fen system determines the fen’s pH, with more basic fens considered “rich” in terms of species richness and more acidic fens considered “poor” (Wassen et al. 1996). Rich fens are often fed by groundwater running through limestone, which produces a bicarbonate buffer against acidity.
We surveyed a rich fen and a poor fen this month. The rich fen was a checkerboard of little microclimates, each inhabited by distinct species carving out little niches. We saw the rare orchid Liparis loeselii, a picky plant, that requires the convergence of many conditions: mossy tussocks to create microtopography, open vegetation, calcareous waters, and specific mycorrhizal fungi associations (Maris et al. 2023). Mycorrhizal associations are of particular importance to orchids. The dust-like seeds of orchids lack energy reserves for the embryo to germinate (Jacquemyn et al. 2017). During orchid germination, mycorrhizae send out hyphae that penetrate the cell wall and feed carbohydrates and nutrients to the tiny orchid. Without this intervention, the orchid lacks the fundamental building blocks to continue development. Different studies have shown the specificity of these associations, revealing the Liparis loeselii preference for a specific saprotrophic fungi in the Tulasnellaceae genus (Maris et al. 2023).
The elusive Liparis loeselii
We also surveyed a poor fen composed predominantly of sphagnum (peat) mosses. The sphagnum mosses acidify and lower the nutrient availability of fens. Both the rich and poor fen contained Drosera rotundifolia, a sundew, but the poor fen contained larger patches. Sundew associate with sphagnum moss, which create floating mossy tussocks of desirable sundew habitat. The high-water table of a fen creates unique challenges for plant species, since nutrients from the soil are not easily attained. Sundew supplements its nitrogen needs by carnivalizing insects (Millett et al. 2012). The plants attract insects with a sugary, sticky mucus that coats the end of many little red stalks on their leaves. Once prey makes contact, the plant can move its tentacle-like leaves, a response called thigmonasty, to place the insect in contact with as many stalks as possible. The plant secretes digestive enzymes that dissolve the insect, and the leaf surface absorbs the nutrient-rich ex-insect soup.
Drosera rotundifolia in association with sphagnum moss
A poor fen composed of more sphagnum moss than a rich fen
Turning tables: myco-heterotrophic and parasitic plants
Almost all orchids are myco-heterotrophic at some point in their lifecycle and with maturity they produce chlorophyll and begin making food of their own. Some orchid species, like those in the Corallorhiza genus, never “grow up” and they remain fully to partially myco-heterotrophic throughout their lifespan. Myco-heterotrophy are reversed plant-mycorrhiza relationships, where carbon exchange goes from fungus to plant (Trudell et al. 2003). These plants are sometimes referred to as “mycorrhizal cheaters.” Lying in the subterranean darkness for most of their lives, these plants mimic their mushroom host’s life cycle, popping up from the ground only to produce a reproductive structure (Zimmer et al. 2008).
Corallorhiza trifida, or yellow coral root, contains some chlorophyll and is only partially myco-heterotrophic
While Corallorhiza and other myco-heterotrophic orchids parasitize fungi, the plant species of the Broomrape family (Orobancheae) parasitize other plants. The seeds of Orobanche uniflora stay in the soil for years, lying in wait until certain chemicals released from nearby plant hosts stimulate germination. The seedlings put out haustoria, rootlike structures, which delve into nearby host root tissue, siphoning off water and nutrients (Kokla & Melnyk 2018). The Latin work “haustor” translates to “the one who drains” and these little vampiric plants have an apt common name: cancer root.
Orobanche uniflora, or cancer root, is completely dependent on its plant hosts for food and water
References
Dolan, Amelia., et al. “Bumble Bees in Montana.” MSU Extension, Aug. 2021, https://apps.msuextension.org/montguide/guide.html?sku=MT201611AG
Jacquemyn H, Waud M, Brys R, Lallemand F, Courty P-E, Robionek A and Selosse M-A (2017) Mycorrhizal Associations and Trophic Modes in Coexisting Orchids: An Ecological Continuum between Auto- and Mixotrophy. Front. Plant Sci. 8:1497. doi: 10.3389/fpls.2017.01497
Keddy, Paul A. (2010). Wetland ecology: principles and conservation (2nd ed.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ISBN 978-1-139-22365-2. OCLC 801405617
Kokla A., Melnyk C. W. (2018). Developing a thief: Haustoria formation in parasitic plants. Developmental Biology, 442 (1) (2018), pp. 53-59, 10.1016/j.ydbio.2018.06.013
Maris, Louise & Petrolli, Rémi & Selosse, Marc & Legland, Thomas & Pache, Gilles & Griveau, Chantal & Torre, Franck & Lopez-Pinot, Dominique & Marciau, Roger & Bonnet, Véronique. (2023). Impact of the local environmental factors associated to plant-fungi communities on the conservation of Liparis loeselii (L.) Rich. In the French Rhône-Alpes region. Acta Oecologica. 120. 10.1016/j.actao.2023.103929.
Millett, J.; Svensson, B. M.; Newton, J.; Rydin, H. (July 2012). “Reliance on prey-derived nitrogen by the carnivorous plant Drosera rotundifolia decreases with increasing nitrogen deposition”. New Phytologist. 195 (1): 182–188. doi:10.1111/j.1469-8137.2012.04139.x. PMID 22506640
Mitton, Jeff. “A Rare Relationship between Death Camas and Death Camas Miner Bees.” Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine, 1 Apr. 2022, www.colorado.edu/asmagazine/2022/04/01/rare-relationship-between-death-camas-and-death-camas-miner-bees.
Trudell, SA; Rygiewicz, PT; Edmonds, RL (2003). “Nitrogen and carbon stable isotope abundances support the myco-heterotrophic nature and host-specificity of certain achlorophyllous plants” (PDF). New Phytologist. 160 (2): 391–401. doi:10.1046/j.1469-8137.2003.00876.x. PMID 33832180.
Wassen, M.J., van Diggelen, R., Wolejko, L. et al. A comparison of fens in natural and artificial landscapes. Vegetation 126, 5–26 (1996). https://doi.org/10.1007/BF00047758
Zimmer K, Meyer C, Gebauer G (2008) The ectomycorrhizal specialist orchid Corallorhiza trifida is a partial myco-heterotroph. New Phytol 178:395–400. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1469-8137.2007.02362.x
