Restoring tall grass prairies demands a substantial amount of seed, approximately 20 pounds per acre. Midewin maintains three seed production areas on their property, and these seed beds produce the majority of the seed used to restore the prairie’s at Midewin. The reality is that there simply aren’t enough remnant prairies to collect from, and the scale of collection needed would have a detrimental impact on plant and animal populations. While we continue to collect from wild populations, our efforts are supplemented by gathering seeds from the seed beds and purchasing seeds from local wholesalers.

As we collect and collect, the bags start piling up in the horticulture building. The sheer volume of seed makes it impossible to rely solely on hand-cleaning. While hand-cleaning can suffice for certain sedges early in the season, when the bulk collections start rolling in, it’s time to put the seed cleaning machines to work! These machines clean seed much more efficiently, completing a task that would otherwise take a full 8 hours of manual labor in under 20 minutes. The result is thoroughly cleaned seed, free of dust, stems, and leaves, ready to be sown this winter.

For the duration of September, along with seed collection, the Tonasket botany team has been working on whitebark pine surveys. Whitebark pine, or Pinus albaulis, is considered a threatened species under the Endangered Species Act, but the Colville National Forest is fortunate enough to house multiple populations of this high-elevation tree. Whitebark is perhaps best known for its symbiotic relationship with Clark’s Nutcracker, the bird that cracks open their cones and bury pockets of seed around the mother tree for later consumption. Whitebark cones don’t open on their own, so they rely on the jays to forget where they’ve cached seeds in order for new whitebark to sprout and grow.

So far, we’ve headed to three different mountains to assess the health and distribution of the Colville’s whitebark. Because they specifically like high-elevation, rocky peaks, just getting to the survey site can sometimes be a full day’s work.

The first mountain we surveyed is Molybdenite, a 6,790-foot peak in the northeastern corner of Washington state. Because this mountain is a 3.5 hour drive from Tonasket, we headed out for a week, staying at a nearby Forest Service bunkhouse that was surprisingly comfortable and well-maintained (besides a little bit of a mouse problem). That week, we summited Molybdenite twice to map whitebark spread across the peak and surrounding area. We were warned that three grizzlies call the mountain home, but our biggest problem did not end up being bears, but holding onto our cell phones, and not getting lost. Two surprisingly challenging tasks when bushwhacking through a forest you’ve never been in before.

The next peak we set out to survey was Mt. Leona, a 6,440-foot peak an hour and a half east of Tonasket. Luckily, there was a road that allowed us to drive almost to the summit. Unluckily, that road was a treacherous mess of rock and loose gravel that made for a white-knuckled ride. By the time we reached the top of the mountain, we were so thoroughly engulfed in a cloud that it was a challenge to ID trees more than 15 feet in front of us. As you can imagine, this made scouting for whitebark a bit more challenging. The howling wind and partially burned forest contributed to an eerie vibe befitting of the first official week of fall. It should also be noted that the temperature at the top of Leona was 45F before the wind chill, an incredibly stark difference from the balmy mid-70s of the week prior. I was very glad to have purchased a new down jacket the day before.

Our most recent whitebark-related adventure occurred on a mountain our team is intimately familiar with, sitting within the project area we’ve been working on all summer, Mt. Bonaparte. This 7,260-foot peak was the highest we’d been to, and one of the longer hikes from our parking area. It was really amazing to get to the top of a mountain that I’d seen countless times from the road and heard about on the radio, but I didn’t necessarily get to see those roads from the other POV, because yet again we were deeply enmeshed in a cloud. I thought I was cold on Leona until I got to Bonaparte. Despite the chill and misery of the peak, there were many whitebark pine trees to be found, and we had a large crew amassed to figure out how far they spread down the unburned half of the mountain, so we persisted, slowly warming up as we descended from the sky.

Despite what felt like a near miss with hypothermia, it was really cool to see a threatened species thriving within the forest we’ve been working in and getting to know all season. In a weird way, there’s a sort of ownership and pride, even though I’ll probably never be back in Tonasket after this season ends. I hope that Colville National Forest’s whitebark outlives me by far, keeping with it a memory that at one point in time, I was here to see it.

This month, I wanted to make a quick post to honor monarch butterflies! While conversations about monarch butterflies have been relevant for years now and I’ve always admired their beauty, it wasn’t until working more closely with them that I started noticing them all around me. At the San Bernardino National forest, we work on several projects to help conserve and preserve the monarchs. We’ve participated in monarch surveys, milkweed mapping, milkweed seed collection, and cultivating and outplanting our various native milkweeds to restoration sites.

These are projects we’ve worked on sporadically throughout the last few months, but this month all of these projects have been much more closely intertwined! That’s because recently, many of our milkweed plants (a monarch caterpillar’s only food source) have set seed. This has led us to spend several days in the field, immersed in prime monarch habitat, to fill bags of milkweed seeds.

On our forest, we work with 3 species of milkweed. Like in the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, they’re each particular about the conditions they like. One species is adapted to a climate that is moist and shady, Asclepias fascicularis, one is adapted to dry soils and full sun, Asclepias californica, and the one pictured above, Asclepias eriocarpa, is adapted to a habitat closer to the middle. While many of our milkweed populations are easily accessible and visible from the road, others require a bit more of a trek to find. We’ve been lucky to have access to a milkweed map on our forest that displays all of the milkweed populations mapped by the botanists that have come before us. This has made it easier for us to route to various populations ripe for collection.

All of this to say that these hours spent around monarch caterpillar food have blessed us with many surprise monarch caterpillar encounters!

These sightings are then photographed and recorded on Survey123 to keep track of the monarch population making use of the milkweed plants in our forest. And the seeds we collect go on to be used to cultivate milkweed plants to outplant in our various restoration projects. That means more food for monarch caterpillars!

With our changing climate and recent decrease to milkweed plant populations (and hence a decreased monarch butterfly population), it’s great to be a part of conserving and restoring monarch butterfly habitat!

Gale arrived this week — a strong wind with speeds below a storm but above breeze — 39 to 54 mph. Ketchikan pulls on a blanket of fog, now a sleepy town with longer nights and greying days of mist and fog and rain. When the sun does come out, the sky is a cold blue — the air piercing, but the sunlight warm and welcoming.

The rainforest is wet and dark, and speckled with fall colors. Devil’s Club exchange their bright green leaves for orange-tipped umbrellas and Salmonberry branches, once dripping with yellow-orange-red berries are almost bare.

Field work is drawing to a close along with summer. But Mather and I recently spent a day out in the field with the Recreation Crew, repairing and reconstructing a bridge on a local trail. We hoisted heavy packs onto our backs and hiked to the bridge site. We used pry bars, sawszalls and hammers to remove the old, decaying planks, and replaced them with new, treated ones.

We hiked in 30 wooden planks on our backs. I fell through 1 — slipped straight through the boards and to the ground. The two crew leads pulled me up out of the bridge, all of us, laughing and laughing.

Another field day this month drew multiple departments together, completing surveys for potential cabin building sites. We walked several different sites, taking plant inventories, with an eye out for rare plant species. The wildlife biologist looked for eagle nests and rare birds, and considered the possible impacts to salmon, bears, wolves, and deer in the area. The landscape architect took note of the soil and depth and thought about accessibility to and from the site. The recreation management specialist addressed the water table and the amount of flat ground available to them for building the cabin, while the forester assessed the stands of trees and the timber demand. The whole day teemed with friendly debates and conversation.

Just before we all left, we walked through a marshland that brimmed with sprawled, decaying bodies of salmon, out to the inlet. Where the ocean flooded in, a flock of short-billed gulls lifted in one swift group up and off the water, calling and calling.

Complimenting the new wintry chill in the air, the forest harbors another touch of fall these days. The color red. The huckleberries.

Vaccinium parviflorum (Red Huckleberry) carpets the forest floor, but few are still holding onto their berries. To finish out what will likely be our final collection, we ventured off trail, and up in trees to discover the ripest huckleberry patches. Many were tall and required us to gently bow the stems toward us to pluck their berries. Stellar’s Jays flitted around my head as I reached up to collect the small, blushing berries.

Seed collection is not the only thing coming to a close. This is my field partner’s final week.

Mather, I want to thank you for the following:

• Confirming my estimations were often wrong
• Doing math and counting seeds with impressive concentration
• Delighting in the smell of decaying salmon while collecting seeds 🙂
• Making me laugh
• Being a truly excellent field partner, hiking pal, and friend

4th graders. It seems that no matter how many times I work with children, I might add that this has not been very many times, I always get nervous. I can’t put my finger on just what it is. The responsibility? The potential chaos? Maybe just the unfamiliarity? This week Alyssa generously signed us up to spend the week educating 4th graders about plants. I know I sure can’t think of a topic a 4th grader might be more interested in. 

We decided to go with a practical topic, something they could use on a daily basis, something I have been using on a daily basis since we started this, every time I go for a walk. A few basic classifications of leaves and flowers: leaf arrangement, shape, and divisions, flower symmetry, and counting different floral parts. The words lance-like, whorled, and pinnate have been some of the favorite words. When answering questions a child might be perfectly audible until they get to one of these words. Evidently they are unsure of how to pronounce the word and so they start noncommittally whispering attempts to sound it out. 

After practicing with these classifications for a bit we pass out cards that have pictures of flowers from 6 different plant families. Their task is then to sort themselves into families based on similar characteristics. Without any information on how to figure out which family they were in I was very impressed at how well they sorted themselves out. I’ve surprised myself by how invigorated I’ve felt after these days. 

Something about learning is invigorating. Watching people learn as well as learning myself. 

I too have had the chance to learn a lot lately. This position has given me so many opportunities to grow my field skills, my plant identification skills, my botany knowledge, my networking abilities, my understanding of where I’d like to take my career, and my abilities to successfully use USAjobs….

After a few years of seasonal work I will be taking a possibly permanent hiatus from seasonal to work a permanent position. I have learned from every single seasonal position I’ve had and I am ready to settle into one job for a while. To have the time to learn a single job really well, to continue my growth from a place of stability and familiarity. 

Speaking of learning….

I’ve recently started learning a bit about environmental ethics. This is something I was completely unfamiliar with until I saw a book about it in a used book store. I instantly knew just based on the title that it would address so many questions that are floating around in the back of my mind.

The first question of mine it’s been addressing is why do I care about nature, the environment, and so many people around me seem not to, don’t even seem to have a sense of what drives my passion for it. This question hasn’t been answered per se but this book has begun to give me context within which to think about this. 

The book uses the phrases environmental metaethical objectivism vs. environmental metaethical subjectivism. The first phrase describes the idea that natural objects are valuable in and of themselves. The second phrase describes the idea that natural objects are valuable only because and if and to the extent that humans desire them. I, in my body, believe the first option and yet when I think about how to communicate the importance of anything in nature or to justify my own love of it I must act as if the second option is what is the correct belief. 

I think these ideas are interesting in the context of conservation and land management. What motivates individuals to believe in, work in, vote for conservation? For what reasons and to what end do we manage the land in this country?

Signing off,

AC

As the seed collecting season has ramped up these past few months, I’ve taken to having a storage cooler in my car for seed collected on days when I can’t make it out to the Big Bear seed shed. A majority of the seed as of recent being various species of milkweed that I had sorted into separate bags into the car cooler. To my mistake, I left the cooler open in the back of my car one tired evening and I reaped the results of my actions the following morning. The following morning, I began my commute to Big Bear and rolled my windows down as I usually do to enjoy the brisk air when suddenly a flurry of white fluff began to swirl around the cabin and to my surprise one of the milkweed bags in the cooler was open! Dozens of seeds began to fly out my window and I quickly pulled over to a turnout to secure the seed bag but alas it was too late. It got me thinking however, how seeds from different species have evolved various ways to disperse into new habitats. As of current, Karen and I have been racing to gather milkweed seeds from monitoring sites throughout the San Bernardino National Forest as once the pods pop open the seeds will quickly drift away in the wind. The seeds reach rather large heights as well even surprising the both of us how far they drift away once the plant is disturbed. In addition to hand harvesting directly from the pod, we have also taken to bagging up unopened pods in preparation for future harvesting. In doing so, we hope to collect as much as we can during this quick seeding timeframe.

Other notable seed species I’ve seen displaying brilliant dispersal tactics are not only the milkweeds but Mountain Mahogany (Cercocarpus betuloides), Manzanita Trees (Arctostaphylus glauca), Anderson Lupine (Lupinus andersonii), and Candlestick Yucca (Hesperoyucca whipplei). While C.betuloides are a pain to harvest as there trichome like hairs are irritating to the skin they travel quite far in the air when a gust of wind hits the trees. The corkscrew like shape of the seed helps it hook into the ground firmly once it lands, slightly digging its way into the soil beginning the first step of possible propagation. Collecting Lupine seed was especially fun and also frustrating as a ready pod will pop instantly at the smallest touch sending the seeds in a variety of different directions! When collecting these I sometimes bent the stalk into the bag and gave it a little shake to trigger the pods to pop open and maximize the number of seeds collected. Penstemons also pop in a similar fashion, though the seeds tend to stay in their pod unless given a hard smack. These are another favorite of mine to collect as the rattling of the seeds into the bag is incredibly satisfying. Lately with our hikes into the forest for monitoring I’ve also noticed an increasing number of small hitchhikers on me as I crouched under shrubs and slid through brush (no not ticks), manzanita berries! These berries are covered in hairs and a sticky sap that sticks to your clothes or hair with ease. I found it neat how the stickiness of the berry’s aids in their dispersal and who knows how far I spread some of these berries in the habitats I was walking through for that day. Another honorable mention is H.whipplei and how one smack to its large stock will release an explosion of glossy black seeds all over the ground. When harvesting from this species we often aid in dispersing the remnant seeds as well by shaking the stalk violently and spreading the confetti like seeds throughout the area. Last but not least I can’t forget about the pesky invasive grasses that are constantly getting stuck in my socks and boots. Not only are they prickly, but they are incredibly difficult to get out of fabric. I spend a good amount of time when I get home plucking out each of the seeds with their pronged or edged shapes in order to minimize spreading into forest habitats. There large presence throughout parks and open nature areas throughout SoCal showcasing how efficient they are at hitching rides to new locations. It’s been rather enjoyable collecting different seed species throughout the forest and becoming familiar with the mechanisms they’ve evolved that help them spread throughout. From popping lupines to barbed cheat grass the evolutionary processes that have driven the development of these unique dispersal characteristics is not only functionally fascinating but incredibly beautiful to watch in action.

September came and went in the blink of an eye. Its parting gift to us was a slight chill in the air and a blanket of fall colors that is slowly falling over the mountains. The changing colors has sparked a new excitement in me for the La Sals. Every place I explore feels new again.

This past week, our final species has started to seed but the first three weeks of September we were left waiting. This allowed us to take a couple days to shadow the archeologist here.

Working as an archeologist here is not like working as an archeologist in most other forests. Part of the Bears Ears National Monument is managed by the forest and the monument has over 100,000 cultural and archeological sites. While with the archeologist we were able to see a few historical sites and a prehistoric site. After a short hike we reached the prehistoric site. Seeing these structures absolutely took my breath away. Nestled into the rocks were stacked stones cemented into place with a mud mixture. Each rock and piece of mud was placed by hand which was obvious due to the hand prints still visible in the mud. Along with hand prints there were in some placed imprints of corn that was farmed and being stored in some of these structures.

Since we had some time to kill, I was also able to help the alpine botany crew with some repeat photo sites. The hike to the sites was about 4 miles in and was one of the harder hikes I have ever done. Once at the sites, we were taking repeating photos of goat wallows that had been been monitored in the years prior in order to document changes. The goats were introduced to the La Sals about 10 years ago as a game animal and their wallows can harm rare alpine plants as well as cause soil erosion.

When it came time to start collecting our seeds the aspen leaves were just beginning to change to a vibrant yellow. The last week of September, despite it now being fall, was sunny and clear up in the mountains. Our last species was found growing mostly around 10,000 ft in elevation giving us the most beautiful views.

Our last day of collection in September, we went to a canyon nestled between the two tallest peaks in the La Sals. The sun was shining and we were collecting near a stream with breathtaking views of the mountains. It was a perfect fall day and ending to September.

Time has been flying by since I began this internship back in June. It feels like just yesterday I had packed up the car and made the trek across the country from Connecticut to Utah. September seemed to fly by the quickest of all for some reason! Perhaps it was the growing signs of fall (my favorite season), the beautiful crisp air, the changing leaves, and the Halloween decorations getting put up around Moab that had me enjoying September so much. I have always loved fall in New England and I was so excited to see what fall looked like in the La Sal mountains. So far, I have not been disappointed.

At last, our third target species, Heliomeris multiflora or showy goldeneye, is ready for collection. We began collecting seeds from this species in the last week of September, which was a pleasant surprise considering we thought we had a lot more time until seeds were mature enough to collect. We have found that the best way to collect these seeds is to clip off the seed heads and put them in a paper bag. We give the bag a little shake and the seeds fall out from the heads pretty easily! If anyone else is collecting this species and has a better method we are open to constructive criticism 🙂

One of the most exciting adventures that Mattie and I got to partake in this month was accompanying the Archaeology crew to survey archaeological sites. Hiking around the woods and coming across remnants of Puebloan peoples and later tribes was like traveling through time. I learned so much about the rich history and culture present in the Manti-La Sal National Forest and especially around Bears Ears National Monument. Having a deeper understanding of the cultural significance of the land that I work on has helped to grow a greater appreciation of it and I value the time I get to spend on it so much more now.

Thanks to very bad weather one day, I also got to tour the Edge of the Cedars State Park Museum which features exhibits of Ancestral Puebloan artifacts such as pottery, baskets, blankets, etc. dating back to as early as the Basketmaker III period (A.D. 500-750). My favorite thing that I saw in the museum was the different effigies that had been recovered in the area, particularly the ones of dogs that I included images of below. It is super cool to imagine people having dogs as pets thousands of years ago like we do today! I also loved learning about the different methods that archaeologists use to determine what time period an artifact is from. This includes radiocarbon dating, dendrochronology, pollen dating, and more!

Overall, September was a very enriching month that will go down in the history books and I am eager to see what the future holds for the seed girls!