5:50 AM – Snooze
6:00 AM – The screeching sound of my alarm clock says, “HEY GIRL, GET UP!”
6:10 AM – Roll out of bed onto the floor and make my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
6:20 AM – Make breakfast, pack lunch, get dressed, and make sure my bag is packed for the day ahead.
6:40 AM – Start walking to the office building.
7:00 AM – Arrive at work, clock in on time to not mess up ADP hours, and avoid struggling with the Notes app on CLM Time Reporting.
7:10 AM – Crack open the first can of MTN Dew to wake up and be energized for the day.

Today, we are native plant scouting for species to collect seeds. We are hitting up Toad Meadow in our rental rig named Yappers. Yappers got his name from his strong object sensing noise if there’s a tree a mile within sight. Our loud boy is a grey Nissan Titan, which allows us to get from point A to B, as well as C, D, E, and F, depending on the day.

7:20 AM – Try to beat the heat and get a head start on the day by taking off early. I get in the driver’s seat because my coworker got their license stolen from a car break-in, and my other coworker drove yesterday.
7:25 AM – Get on one of the most dangerous roads in Oregon, being much more confident than I was the first time driving the truck. Then turn the radio on to Charli XCX’s new album to stay awake for the drive.
7:30-8:00 AM – “IT’S SO CONFUSING SOMETIMES TO BE A GIRL, GIRL!” (x15)
8:01 AM – Work it out on the remix.
8:02-8:20 AM – Hop out of Yappers and work our way to the meadows that we marked on Field Maps the previous day. Walk through trees, bushes, and puddles until we get to our destination, the glorious Toad Meadow.
8:20-11:40 AM – Scout around the meadow and find the native plant species.

Toad Meadow consisted of a few plants that were on our seed collection list and surprisingly very few toads. We found Penstemon serrulatus, Achillea millefolium, and Spirea Douglisii. All of these species are still in flower in this area so we mark it on our field maps so we can return in a few weeks once the plants are fruiting. We then make our way back to the truck.

12:00 PM – Lunch time! Crack open a nice warm MTN Dew #2 that’s been sitting in the truck all day, chow down on a sandwich, and eat all the veggie straws I can in 30 minutes.
12:30 PM – Drive to the next location, Big Meadows!
1:05 PM – Arrive at Big Meadows trailhead and begin trudging through the forest.
1:06-3:00 PM – Scout and ID plants at Big Meadow.

In Big Meadows we found Symphyotrichum foliaceum, Mimulus Guttatus, and Lupinus latifolius. We again mark up species that we are collecting on our tablets, and collect a few plants we are unsure about so our mentor Heidi can double-check them once we return to the main office. Then start our journey to the truck.

At this point in the day, we are tired, sweaty, bug-bitten, but feeling incredibly fortunate when we take a look around us and see miles and miles of beautiful trees. It is surreal to be in such a scenic place that I am fully expecting fairies to start dancing around me. In fact, I think I see one! Yes, over there by that bush! She dances in her little pink tutu and is throwing pixie dust around in the air, blessing every flower it lands on. (Wait, is this a sign of heat exhaustion? The back of my mind tries to warn me, “Nah,” and I skip along like a fairy princess with my new friend). Seriously though, it’s hot out and the heat is getting to all of us so we make our way back to the truck and decide it’s better to scout from the truck for the rest of the day.

3:00-4:00 PM – Scout on 2257 Road by Marion Forks.
4:00-4:26 PM – Drive to the gas station and fill Yappers up with gas.

4:40 PM – Arrive back at Detroit Ranger Station.
4:40-5:29 PM – Ask Heidi about specimens collected, check email to see if there are any new messages from CBG, and work on the native seed slideshow we created to better recognize the plants we are collecting in our forest.
5:30 PM – Clock out and walk back to the bunkhouse.

This concludes an average Tuesday as a CLM intern stationed at Willamette National Forest.

July has flown by on the Beaverhead-Deer Lodge National Forest. Among the many projects planned for the field season I have been able to participate in rare plant monitoring, pollinator surveys, moth surveys, and scouting for seed collection sites to name a few.

This month has been filled with wildlife encounters of all shapes and sizes such as reptiles, amphibians, birds, deer, and much more. To kick off the month, we encountered some pikas up in the subalpine reaches of the Gravley Mountains after doing some White Bark Pine monitoring. During a pollinator survey up the Twin Lakes trailhead, I came pretty close to a large black bear meandering through the trees. The final wildlife highlight of the month was encountering a young bull moose while on our way to do rare plant monitoring in Maxville.

The Forest Service has partnered with a few different organizations in order to fill in the gaps of Montana pollinators including Montana State University, Bumble Bee Atlas, and the Montana Moth Project. Pollinator collections can get pretty competitive at times as people race to get the most bees. Both live and lethal collection techniques have been used.

The Beaverhead-Deer Lodge National Forest has several rare plant species including the federally endangered White Bark Pine. This has opened up many opportunities for the Botany Crew to do monitoring and assessments of rare plant species including White Bark Pine, Lemhi Penstemons, and Botrychium to name a few. During one of the White Bark Pine assessments, I was lucky enough to see the massive wildflower bloom that happens in the Gravley Mountain Range every year.

Seed collection is just right around the corner as many of the target seed collections for the Beaverhead-Deerlodge are starting to go to seed. Several scouting trips have been made in preparation for collections for Geranium viscosissimum, Festuca campestris, Glyceria, Lupinus argentus, Penstemon albertinus, and Gaillardia aristata to name a few. Collections should start very soon!

July 18, 2024 – Florence Lake, CA

At last, after a four day hitch in the John Muir Wilderness, my three comrades and I have reached port. Before me lies Florence Lake. Our small Jon Boat is surrounded by 962 acres of moody blue, reflective of the passing storm. A calm sight, compared to the one across Florence. An elemental battle has commenced, between earth and water. Swiftly, the haunted clouds approach the granitic range, only to come to a stand-off, afraid to crest serrated ridges no longer visible from port. I remember what this same view looked like on Monday; partly cloudy and an unobstructed view of the entrance to the John Muir Wilderness. Now, it is Thursday. My feet ache. My shoulders yearn to be set free from my heavy pack. Yet, more than anything else, I have a huge smile on my face.

Before our arrival at the John Muir Wilderness, there was a population of Whitebark Pine, Pinus albicaulis, waiting for representation in the court of trail rerouting. A section of the John Muir Trail (JMT) currently cuts through a sensitive meadow. In order to protect and preserve the meadow’s proper functioning, plans to reroute the trail have begun. However, the area surrounding the meadow is Whitebark Pine habitat. Now that the species is federally listed, we were sent to map the population and assess its condition to properly plan a trail reroute that won’t affect the health or future of Whitebark Pine.

Our quest began with a boat ride across Florence and a jaunt up the San Joaquin River until reaching camp. We used this day to gain familiarity with the higher-elevation plants, and the weight our field gear added to our backpacking packs. We also learned the difficultly of maintaining radio contact with headquarters in the deep backcountry.

Come morning, it was game time. Eleanor and I felt reluctant to leave our homey tent and begin our 2,400ft climb to the reroute sight. Thankfully, instant coffee, oatmeal packets, and a couple snack breaks were enough to propel the four botanists up the pass. On July 16, 2024, we arrived at the Whitebark Pine population awaiting representation. Before starting our survey, we had a brief exchange and introduction with the Wilderness Crew working on the project.

We spent the rest of the day and the majority of the following day collecting data on the Whitebark Pines adjacent to the reroute and mapping the estimated extent of the population beyond the survey area. For individuals in immediate proximity to the reroute, we recorded their coordinates, phenology, height, DBH (diameter at breast height) if applicable, and the presence/severity of rust and pests. This was my first time working with trees and I found myself constantly having “a-ha!” moments. I enjoyed the luxury of examining a branch at eye level. The realization that keying could occur in positions other than the typical bot-squat, which will surely kill my knees before the age of forty, was quite the discovery.

An important part of our mission was to assess the extent of rust and pest disturbances on the Whitebark Pine population. All White Pines are susceptible to blister rust, which is a fungus (Cronartium ribicola) that infects Pines through the needles. The fungus spreads from the needles to the steam, causing discoloration and cankers. We observed signs of blister rust on over 95% of individuals in the area. Tree size or phenological stage did not seem to influence if a tree was susceptible to rust. We only saw a couple individuals with beetle damage, however when the infestation was present, it seemed to significantly impact the tree.

Our journey back to camp on day three was seamless and gave us time to reflect on our observations from the survey. Considering we were boardering the lower elevational extent of Whitebark Pine, its population was larger than I had anticipated. The population’s range seemed to continue further than we had time to walk. While the listed species felt abundant, its threats felt greater. Blister rust was present on almost every individual, creating dead stalks and impacting their ability to utilize nutrients and reproduce. I can’t help but wonder how such damage to a staple species, like Whitebark Pine, will affect already fragile montane and sub-alpine systems.

Those thoughts stuck with me at camp that night and still linger today as I gaze across Florence Lake to the mountains home to Whitebark Pine.

Thank you John Muir Wilderness and all the beings I meet along the way <3

I’ll be back soon to say hi.

Aspen Fleabane! Erigeron speciosus! Lost in a sea of purple Erigerons, where is the species we need? 

It’s month number two of the CLM internship for us here on the Big Horn National Forest. Things are heating up (to nearly record high temperatures in Sheridan, WY , at 105 degrees Fahrenheit!) which means things are approaching full swing up on the mountain, floristically. Several plants that are on our collection list have gone to seed. Many more are now in full bloom—including those in the genus Erigeron. 

The botanically uninitiated are faced with the “green wall” when first looking out on a leafy landscape, before learning to differentiate between the many plants that make up the community. With these fleabanes, we’re facing a new frontier—the “purple wall”. In some genera, there are only a few species in the state’s flora. In the genus Monarda, for example, there are only 2 species native to Wyoming, Monarda fistulosa (a plant on our target species list for collection!) and Monarda pectinata. This makes it pretty easy to be confident when we see our Monarda out in the field. Not so with fleabane. There are over 50 species in the Wyoming flora, and almost every single one has bright yellow disk flowers, and purplish to whitish ray flowers. 

We’ve found that quite a few of the other plant enthusiasts on iNaturalist share our confusion; we’ve showed up on the sites of several iNat observations of Aspen fleabane, and have found several different versions of plants that match the description of yellow disk, purple rays—so which is really Aspen fleabane?  

In this case, a pretty cool clue for where to look can be found in the common name! We’ve found many purple fleabanes that don’t look quite right when wandering through sagebrush, along lake shores, or up on rocky outcroppings; but when we find ourselves in stands of aspen, we find that the plants start to line up closer with our description of Aspen fleabane! That being said, there are still subtle distinctions between species that we have to watch out for—Erigeron subtrinervis, or Three-veined fleabane, looks very similar to Aspen fleabane and can also be found growing in stands of aspen, but instead of a smooth stem and leaves, it will have hairy stems and leaves. It’s a minute detail, but when we send our seeds to the seed nursery and extractory in Couer d’Alene, they’ll want to see a voucher specimen that fits the bill. 

It’s tough to find what we need, but we’ve still got a moment before these tricky purple flowers go to seed. In any case, a shady, lush stand of aspens is always a great place to be, so I won’t mind the search! 

These past few weeks, the nodding onions have exploded from their papery cocoon, dotting the understory with cute purple bundles. To me, these flowers seemed to come out of nowhere. During early surveys I glimpsed the little white bulb and marked down Allium cernuum in my survey form, barely sparing a thought for the plant. Then it seemed, all of a sudden, like beautiful fireworks were all around me.

I though for a moment that because they were so pretty, these plants might be the other rare onion in the Bitterroot Forest, Allium acuminatum. They were not. They were just regular old nodding onion.

As the fireworks of nodding onions began, the onion I overlooked became one of my favorite plants in the forest. I started to appreciate the bulb before the flower bloomed. When I looked closely I was able to see a neatly wrapped and protected umbel of flowers, reminding me of a caterpillar in a cocoon before it emerges in a display of beauty. I liked how the buds swelled and broke through the thin membrane surrounding them, how the buds hung in perfect little drops from the stem, how they then exploded into a ball, each bud stretching away from the others, how the petals slowly darkened from white to pink, and how green fruits swelled in the middle of each flower as the petals faded back to a wispy white. I loved that each plant seemed to go at its own speed, meaning every day I saw each step of the development in different parts of my survey, or even in a small clump of plants.

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Besides admiring the nodding onion, we have done some bee surveys, seed collection, and more rare plant surveys.

The bee surveys are a part of Xerces’ Montana Bumble Bee Atlas project. The goal of this project is to track bumble bees across all of Montana. They do this by splitting the state into a grid and having trained volunteers adopt and conduct bee surveys in a grid-cell.

To conduct the survey, we find a spot to survey and time ourselves for 45 minutes. When we spot a bumble bee we catch it in the net, place it in a vial, and then put it in a cooler so it goes to sleep. Then we take pictures of the bee and record data about the flower the bee was on, the surrounding flora, and environmental conditions. When we are done taking pictures we let the bee fly away.

Our seed collection season has also begun. This means driving around the forest and looking for populations of target species that are big enough to collect, and also timing the collection when the seeds are developed but have not dispersed.

And, we have done a lot more rare plant surveys.

Here, Li and I are getting the aspect (cardinal direction) of the slope of a rare plant population.

And this is Li and me at the top of a very tall and steep hill.

This past month has been a lot of fun and I’m looking forward to our transition towards seed collection and vegetation monitoring.

The second month of my stay here in Dillon, MT is coming to a steady end. Work has definitely picked up quickly in terms of seed collection, with various species predicted to seed here in the next few weeks. There’s been a lot of prep work and anticipation, since most of our collection species at Beaverhead-Deerlodge seed later in the season. It feels like the season has been working in multiple stages as work ebbs and flows, and I can feel a new stage approaching. I’m eager to focus more on seed collection, since a lot of the scouting so far has been more of a multitasking effort.

Working with the botany crew has given me many opportunities to explore Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest while scouting for collection sites. I’ve found it super exciting to come in everyday knowing I’ll see and definitely learn something new. We got to join on a wildflower tour earlier this month, which was quite beautiful and made for a great scouting experience.

One of my favorite things we did this month was camping out in Maxville. There was a beautiful lake directly across the street from our campground, and it was great to cool off from the heat every night. We also went to this amazing candy shop in nearby Philipsburg. I was not like a kid in a candy store, I was better. My life has been changed. I’m also incredibly excited to share that my dream for the season has been fulfilled. I saw a moose! Unfortunately, I was so excited that my photos were very shaky, but I do have witness accounts.

July has gone by much faster than expected. It’s taken me a while, but I’m finally feeling adjusted here in southwest Montana. Some days I miss the Appalachians. The green lush mountains and summer tomatoes (there are tomatoes here too, but if you know you know), or the muggy sweet smells of the forest. But I also know that, someday, I’ll miss the smell of sagebrush, or the tart yet sweet taste of a fresh-picked huckleberry. I’ve completed field seasons far from home before, but this year has brought me a greater appreciation for the importance and uniqueness of place.

P.S. Cat update: she is doing absolutely fabulous. Her favorite summertime activity has been watching the black-billed magpies from the window and clawing at it. She has an unmatched focus face.

This month, I have been reminded of the resilience and beauty of the desert. I love seeing the giant tarantulas crossing the campsite roads in Payson and seeing the wild Palo Verdes reminiscent of a certain Dr. Seuss book. It’s striking to me the amount of life that lives and thrives in a place that regularly saps my strength at over 90 degrees every day. I put my hand into the soil at a site in the Tonto Forest the other day. The site is called Leo Grove, and over the last few weeks, we’ve been weeding, fencing, and making transects to turn it into an experimental plot. It’s been thinned, but has Ponderosa Pines all around the area. It was striking to me that I could very nearly slip my hand into the soil almost without needing a shovel, and seeing how soft and moist it was under the surface beneath the pine needles. I thought it was funny how consistent Arizona was with spiky things- spiky plants, spikey snakes and insects, and even spikey dirt. Under the surface, however, everything is soft, delicate, and full of life, waiting to sprout. I think that seeing the resilience of the things here gives me hope for the life to come in the future, and maybe, more things could benefit from being a little prickly.