It gets a bit hot during the summer in the eastern Utah desert. I am lucky to be able to somewhat escape every once in a while by heading to BLM land further north on the Green River. The riparian environment of the Green River is just that – green. And lush, at least for a few meters on either side of the bank.
Every once in a while, when I am caught up with other SOS and monitoring projects, I have the oppertunity to head up to John Jarvie Ranch/Historic Site, to deal with invasive riparian species. Along the way I get to meet and hang out with other seasonals and folks from my department that I would otherwise not get the chance to work with.
Circling osprey are everywhere. Great blue herons give us dirty looks as we creep up on them during their fishing expeditions. Numerous merganser duck families drift past. My all-time favorite though, are the occasional river otter family sightings as I paddle my way to work.
A spiny invasive known as teasel (introduced to make crafts, the dried heads look like little mice if you use your imagination and squint a bit) is what the crews have been after. 8-foot tall willow and saltcedar thickets must be combed through and the teasel cut down with the seedheads pulled off.
Did I mention that there is a Class III whitewater rapid on one of the river stretches that we are working on? I also keep an eye out for new populations of the water-loving, threatened Ute Lady Tress orchid.
This is oddly satisfying work. If the job keeps going, this invasive can potentially be banished from the Upper Green. Seeing proper land management in action, achieving results, is amazing, and I am stoked to be a part of the process, even if just for a few days.
Peace,
Katie Frey, Vernal, Utah
Life is good here in the desert. The town of Cedarville, where I sleep in a bed once a week, with a population of 800, now feels busy. The rest of the week we’re out in the Black Rock desert, in the Jackson range, hunting around for rare and invasive plant species. We have a favorite place to camp that is by a little creek, a rare natural feature in the desert. In the creek we have built up rocks downstream from an existing pool and now have a cool, wonderful, bubbly bath. The swallows fly down the canyon and miss our heads by inches as we soak off the days work and they deftly pluck insects out of the dry air. Bats and nighthawks arrive in shifts at dusk. Lightning flashes in the distance. The silences are so loud they hurt your ears and the blood pulsing through your body is the only sound, perhaps mixing with the wind. There are times when no one speaks and the silence is not nervous. We read out loud to each other, eat big complicated dinners, and sleep to the sound of the creek, thunder, crickets, and the patter of rain on our tents. I often dream in rich metaphor, of friends, and loved ones both alive and dead. We take up our little space, separated by discrete distances, much like the desert flora. Each object highlighted by rock and sand like an art exhibit. I realize now why people fall in love with the desert. It is raw and terribly beautiful. During the day we walk through canyons past old wooden wagon wheel axles, abandoned mines, and small creeks struggling to stay above the rock. We crush sage, coyote mint, and yarrow. The aromatic phytochemicals assault the senses. -e-
Panoche/Tumey Hills
Hadrosaur excavation (fossil vertebrae shown)
Clear Creek Management Area (serpentine soil outcrop = the bluish stuff)
Layia discoidea (serpentine endemic species)
