The Hunt for ERUM

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There’s much to talk about here at the Rocky Mountain Research Station in Boise, ID! In the short two and a half months since I’ve began this position my partner and I have been darting all over the Great Basin involved in some cool research. Most of our time these days is dedicated to searching for a particular plant species, but we have also gotten involved in some smaller projects that needed extra hands.

Though first, I suppose I’d like to talk more about the Great Basin itself. Despite growing up in Colorado, and seeing parts of the greater Great Basin ecosystem, the basin isn’t something I have thought of very much. In fact, it took several hours of unbroken driving throughout this region to really appreciate its magnificent vastness, like a rolling sea of scrubland mottled with pinyon-juniper woodland in-between stark mountain ranges. Much like the sea, the magnitude of the apparently desolate land is intimidating, yet amazing.

A view from the top of Yellow Peak in the Sheldon National Antelope Refuge in Nevada.

The Great Basin is defined primarily by the fact that the rivers flowing through this region do not drain into any major ocean or worldwide system. The water that enters the Great Basin, stays in the Great Basin (and now I know where Vegas ripped their slogan from!). This region is dominated by scrubland and pinion-juniper, but is home to a wonderful suite of forbs, one of which has been our primary focus for the past month, ERUM. ERUM stands for Eriogonum umbellatum, or sulphur buckwheat, a perennial from the family Polygonaceae. My field partner and I spend most of our time traveling to locations with presence records of this species, and collecting leaf tissue, herbarium vouchers, and seed from them when available.

Eriogonum umbellatum.

These materials are raw inputs into a research pipeline. Genetic material and phenological information are used to characterize varieties of this species while seeds from various climates are grown in several so-called “common gardens” across the Great Basin. All of this information gets united in an effort to identify “seed zones” for ERUM and its many varieties. These zones are areas throughout the Great Basin associated with particular environments and climatic conditions which result specialized in adaptations in ERUM. For instance, a sample of ERUM seed collected in a high-altitude forest meadow zone would likely not grow well in a low-elevation scrubland zone, and vice versa. So by identifying these seed zones, and characterizing the seed collections by said zones, restoration projects can use this information to select ERUM seed suited for the proper climate and environment. Developing large quantities of native seed is an extremely expensive process, and much seed can go to waste if the environment isn’t suitable. My mentor, Jessica, mentioned to us that after all the labor, permits, equipment, and resources, a bag of seed can be worth more than its weight in gold!

Hunting for ERUM feels like one great scavenger hunt, and it’s always a bit of a rush to stumble upon some. My time so far in this position has been pleasant. I feel very fortunate to travel to so many breathtaking places I likely never would have gone to otherwise. The great outdoors sure has a way of making one feel whole…

As we transition from traveling around the Great Basin collecting seed to setting up common gardens, I hope learn whether development of a reference genome is in the works, what sort of genes are being used as markers to identify varieties, as well as some general curiosities about the potential link between plant breeding, agronomy, and restoration.

Stanley Lake, ID
Jackson, WY

Life on the Road

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This summer has been filled with all sorts of fun out here in Boise, ID. Coming into this job I had no idea how much I would be learning and how much fun this would be! My field partner and I have been collecting seed and plant material from two main species, Eriogonum umbellatum and Lomatium dissectum. We have been as far north as Craig Mountain Wildlife Management Area (south of Lewiston), ID and as far south as Cedar City, UT. At times the traveling can be overwhelming and tiresome but I enjoy getting paid to work places people vacation. For example, this past week we were able to work near Jackson Hole, WY, one of my favorite places to go! Being from Idaho I love exploring my state more and exploring new states. Nevada has been so beautiful and desolate simultaneously, and it has been one of my new favorites to explore.

As a wildlife biology major, I was excited to start a job working with plants and learn more about habitats and ecosystems. This job has allowed me to explore many aspects of both and I have really enjoyed challenging myself to make connections in habitats while looking for our target species.

Some fun moments so far this summer were almost getting bit by a rattlesnake, having a grouse attack me, seeing lots of wildlife, watching long-eared owls feed above my head, finding bats tucked in a rock crack, and of course all the beautiful scenery.

Work will start to change as we start traveling less for seed collection and more for common garden work and I am excited to update how that goes in the coming months! Enjoy these photos in the meantime.

Lomatium dissectum!
Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem
Me near Custer, ID
Eriogonum umbellatum growing in a cool place
Pretty Idaho mountains

Prairie Bogs

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To start off my July I traveled to Wisconsin to spend time in the boreal forests of the north with my family. We hiked at the Porcupine Mountains which are not even mountains, but us Midwesterners are used to land flatter than a soda that’s been left open for a week. While there I just about rounded out my observations of the 6 native Midwest honeysuckles; seeing Red Honey Suckle, Lonicera Dioica, growing near the shore of Lake Superior. Only Lonicera oblongifolia has evaded my searching for the relatives of the nauseatingly monotonous Eurasian honeysuckles. An interesting aspect of the honeysuckles is the natives are edible or close to edible while the invasive are disgustingly bitter.

On my way home I visited the biggest bog I have ever seen. I was delighted at the sight of tamaracks, heaths, sedges, and moss as far as I could see, but dismayed by the little lily of valley taking hold in every square foot of the bog. I felt a pain up my back as I remembered having spent days hunched over hand painting herbicide onto this invader. It had invaded a large portion of the highest quality remnant prairie in the county I live in. Having been planted in the cemetery prairie to pay respects to a deceased loved ones, the lily has lead to the deaths of numerous rare native plants.

Coming back from Wisconsin to Illinois I was missing the cushion of the canopy and colder temperatures. Though I was pleasantly relieved when the same smell of pine crept across the prairie. All the species of Silphium, Compass Plant and Prairie had started to peak in bloom. The blazing sun on the prairie burns off the acridity of the landfill in the morning and volatilizes the terpenes in the plants. The most interesting smell I have encountered was the smell of the tussock sedges. It has a unique pleasant smell that is hard for me to put into words and was disappointing to collect very little seed for these important plants.

Seasons of Change

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Having just written our mid-season report, I find myself reflecting upon how the season has gone so far, and day-dreaming about what still lies ahead of us. I can hardly believe that summer is almost over. This summer has flown by for me- a testament to how wonderful this job has been. One of my favorite things about this position has to be seeing how the forest changes with each new season. I feel like a quiet observer, a fly on the wall, watching as the forest delicately lays down her colored coat each week, only to put on a new one.

Viewing these changes through my eyes, as a budding botanist, has been especially spectacular for me. In spring, the first yellow blooms of arrowleaf balsamroot break through the thawed ground, while lupines, a personal favorite of mine, add a touch of lavender among the new greenery. As the days warm, and summer progresses, wild geraniums and scarlet gilia bring subtle pinks and reds, their flowers attracting pollinators that flit between them.

Now that it is late summer, mountain mahogany seeds have begun to show, their fine, feathered strands catching the light before drifting off with the wind. Penstemon, with its deep blue and purple flowers, stands tall in open spaces. The seedheads of annual grasses, long since passed, turn gold in the sun.

I find myself waiting on the edge of my seat to see what the forest does as fall approaches. I can only guess that the colors of her coat will turn deeper, and richer as the aspens turn gold, and the reds of bigtooth maples and burr oaks spill across the hills. I am sure that fireweed, one of the last to bloom, will add a final burst of magenta before the first snowflakes settle and the forest shifts into the quiet of winter

Winter. Of all the seasons, it’s the most difficult for me to picture. Not because it isn’t beautiful, it might be the most breathtaking season of all. But because I know that once the forest puts on her white coat, contrasted only by the dark green of the conifers, that I will hardly be there to see it. Of course I know that after my time as a CLM intern is over I will still be able to go into the forest. But it won’t be like it is now, I can’t go everyday. Surely, I won’t be around to notice the subtle changes as early winter progresses into late winter, and as late winter thaws into spring. The forest will be quieter then, and very few will be around to see her.

Until then, I plan to enjoy my time with the forest, however fleeting it may be. She continues to change everyday, and with each change brings new plants to be discovered, and new seeds to be harvested.

Musings on Earth

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These past few weeks, soil has been on my mind. Blowing in through my ears, landing in the crevices of my brain. I’m hoping it’ll fertilize my mind into feeling grounded, encourage some new growth. Inevitably, I’m always drawn to soil when in need of grounding. I appreciate how literal it is, to be connected to the Earth, dirt under my nails, nibbling on roots. And I can get lost in the wonder of it all when I consider soil, how it nourishes us, brimming with life and mystery, a hidden world under our feet, supporting us as the foundation of life.


This last month, our grasslands research has included preparing bud core samples that my boss harvested for analysis. The samples start as chunks of the earth- foot high grass culms and their dense, clayey root bundles. We hold the dried root bundles under the blast of the hose, breaking off chunks of clay, combing out rhizomes and fine roots the way you’d comb out hair or wash a dog. The reveal is beautiful. There’s an immediate recognition and appreciation that finally you’re seeing the whole plant. It’s like the floor washed away and you can see all the pipes and mechanics and innerworkings of your city. Like you can finally really understand where it all comes from. Washing the soil from Pascopyrum smithii’s below ground structures reveals a story, and our boss, Jackie, translates it for us. This is her language, and she tells the story with familiarity and adoration.


“Here is last years’ culm, and here it decided to put up a new shoot! I predict that drought will have less impact on the number of buds, but more so on their development and energy invested by the plant.”


She shows us three years’ generations of grass shoots, spaced neatly along the rhizome, the newest looking young and fresh, the oldest greying and soft. From above ground, you could never translate this familial story, but understanding roots entirely changes the way I see the prairie.


The metaphors are enough for me to get lost in. When I was in undergrad, I tattooed “as above, so below around my kneecap. Soil exemplified this for me. Ecology and geology lessons left me reeling, the interconnectedness of it all…the rocks, the soil, the plants. Nourishing, growing, dying, returning. The cycles, all the cycles… inducing a mania over all the love pouring from rocks. To me, learning the ways in which soil was alive was reflected in community structure, resilience, and cooperation, and a thread of love throughout all levels of life. It taught me about foundations, being grounded, and about putting down roots.

Homage to the Huachuca Water Umbel

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The Huachuca water umbel, Lilaeopsis schaffneriana var. recurva is tiny but mighty – and a flood plain opportunist who deserves our attention as dedicated conservationists.

This semi-aquatic plant, although small, is imperative for erosion control and overall maintenance of sensitive wetland habitats. Since this species can produce both sexually through flowers and asexually through rhizomes – it’s seedbanks can persist viably for up to 10 years, allowing the plant to recolonize quickly after periods of drought if precipitation is great enough. In events of extreme downpours and flooding caused by desert monsoons, the Huachuca water umbel can expand its population quickly by establishing itself in newly disturbed habitats by dislodged rhizomes opportunistically dispersing and re-rooting themselves in a different site along the aquatic system. However, the unique ability is dependent upon the presence of a refugia – or a suitable, unaltered wetland habitat that supports these isolated individuals.

In the Huachuca mountains, healthy riparian communities are starting to disappear. As the Huachuca water umbel seeks to find refuge – it finds itself fighting an uphill battle against increased cattle allotments leading to overgrazing, aquatic habitat degradation, stream pollution from wildfire sedimentation, invasive species competition, recreation, and extreme drought. With all these factors at play, great concern for the species was expressed by the Center for Biological Diversity and in 1997 the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service rightfully added the Huachuca water umbel to the list of species under the Endangered Species Act.

Last week, myself and B. Sonday accompanied Coronado Forest Botanist Hannah in monitoring and collecting data for these important individuals.

Measuring a large umbel population in the Huachuca Mountains.

We collected data for two separate drainage areas and found several microsites of umbel populations throughout both. However, in the first drainage where evidence of the presence of cattle was high – distance between umbel populations were significant and individuals within those populations made up just 0-5% percent of the total vegetation coverage.

In conclusion, the Huachuca water umbel is struggling to overcome adversity in face of a changing climate and poor land management. But, monitoring efforts play an imperative part in understanding this plants ecology and to best provide solutions for increasing their populations in the future.

Outstanding Orchids! (and some other plants too!)

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The Rocky Mountain Front

This month has been filled to the brim with new plants and new places. Since the last blog post Sky and I have kinda settled into the position and have been getting into a groove. Most days we end up going to the Helena side of the forest so we can get plants in a large area which means we’ve been doing A LOT of driving, but hey I get to listen to my music more, so that’s a plus!

Our month started with us going to the Rocky Mountain Front to meet up with the head botanist in the Helena office to help look for a rare orchid that should be in the area. However, in order to get to the right spot we had to go off-trail and really get into the thicker parts of the forest. It was some of the most fun I had on the job! It felt like I was really exploring the forest that I’m stationed in and it made every plant that we found even more exciting than usual. In the end we were able to find the orchid we were looking for along with some other ones!

Galiarus rotundfolia (Small Round-Leaved Orchid) was the orchid we were looking for. It likes to grow in damp areas and can be easily confused with Twinflower when they aren’t in bloom.
Cypripedium montanum (Mountain Lady’s Slipper) was also growing near the Small Round-Leaved Orchid! This was the first time I’ve seen this one!
And my personal favorite: Corallorhiza striata (Striped Coralroot). This orchid gets it’s sugars from the mycelium in the ground through mycoheterotrophy! I hope that I get to see more of this one in the future.

The week after our trip with Nate we spent some time helping out the trails crew and sprayed some weeds around some campgrounds. Wasn’t my favorite work to do (especially since we ended up spraying a lot of Ox-eyed Daisies, which I didn’t know were invasive until then), but we had a cookout for lunch so it wasn’t all too bad!

The rest of the month was spent doing our usual survey work and seed collections. It’s been interesting seeing how our populations change throughout the season and then seeing how these plants spread their seeds. This job has made me so much more conscious of the different stages of a plants life and how differences in climate can affect the timing of when it’s seeds are released. The higher temperatures in Helena along with the forest fires in the area has made it so many of the plants in that part of the forest are much farther along than the ones that we see closer to the ranger station. This has sometimes been a source of some frustrations since it narrows down the already short window for collecting from some species, but it has also allowed us to collect from some species sooner than we would be able to if we just stayed close to the ranger station.

Overall it has been another good month of my time in Montana, and I’m excited to see what this next month brings!

Lessons from the Umpqua National Forest

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I’ve been working in the Umpqua National Forest for a month and a half now, and in that time, I’ve witnessed incredible changes in the landscape around me. I’ve made memories that I’ll cherish for a long time, and I’ve captured countless photos. Beyond the breathtaking scenery I’m fortunate to work in every day, the most fascinating transformation I’ve observed has been the plants’ progression from fruit development to seed dispersal. This shift in the natural world has also marked a change in my work, as I’ve transitioned from managing invasive species to the exciting task of seed collection. So far, we’ve gathered seeds from 14 different native species (to list a few: Oregon sunshine, yarrow, blue wild rye, red columbine, deer vetch, serviceberries, etc.)

Amelanchier alnifolia (serviceberry)
Bags of seed!

In this short time, I’ve learned so much. Being part of a larger botany team—nine strong—composed of like-minded, hardworking individuals has been an incredible experience. Our shared enthusiasm turns each day’s work into a collective endeavor that feels both purposeful and rewarding. We’ve supported each other through challenging tasks, celebrated our successes, and learned from the forest and from each other.

However, the recent wildfires here in the Umpqua National Forest have posed a significant challenge. These fires have lead to forest closures that overlap with many populations of interest, which has forced us to adapt and develop new strategies. These have included scouting for new populations to collect from that are large enough and with viable seed, with no previous historic data. Another hardship has been waiting for waivers to come in to permit us to enter parts of the forest closed due to fire activity, which has delayed both scouting and collection efforts.

The work we do in managing invasive species and collecting seeds becomes even more crucial in this context, as these efforts help to ensure that the forest can recover and continue to thrive after a fire. In the end, my experience here has deepened my appreciation for the delicate balance of nature and the critical role we play in preserving it.

Fires and Floras

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If you haven’t heard the news, fire season has hit Oregon hard this month, especially with the so-called “megafires”. And just our luck, Emma and I are stationed in a county surrounded on all sides by these megafires (multiple over 100,000 acres and spreading), with our town, John Day, right smack dab in the center.

Collecting seed above the smoke line, just North of the Strawberry Wilderness, looking out towards John Day, OR

For the most part, this means that we’re pretty safe in town, but the threat to the forest is great, and some nearby towns aren’t faring nearly as well. As such, we’ve had to keep a close eye on local conditions, avoiding certain areas of the forest, driving above the smoke line, and finding work to do indoors (there’s plenty).

My nightly social media doomscrolling has been replaced by excessively checking WatchDuty (10/10, highly recommend this wildfire app, by the way) for the latest hotspots, evacuation zones, AQI, and firefighting updates. Watching the 20,000 acre Courtrock Fire boundary slowly overtake the entirety of our vast (and only) Iris missouriensis population was heartbreaking.

Emma and I escaping the smoke in a subalpine meadow atop Dixie Butte

Early on in the month, on a particularly smoky day, Emma and I set off to scout Dixie Butte. Of course, we had some target species in mind, and we did map a few populations, but I’d be lying if I said we didn’t have an ulterior motive: escape the wildfire smoke. At the top of the Butte, after a long, winding drive, we were met with a lovely subalpine meadow and perfectly clear air. We ate lunch, enjoyed the view/easy breathing, and grabbed some data points before heading off back down the mountain.

Unfortunately, we’ve also had to spend a lot of our days indoors. There’s a ton of work to do, organizing our data, keying out vouchers, weighing out samples, etc., and the days definitely drag on a bit more than when we’re out in the field.

A typical office-day desk set-up:
Excel Spreadsheet, Triple Beam Balance, and an Iced Lavender London Fog

A lot of the indoor work has come down to organization, and it took a while to really nail down our rhythm, especially since we have 3 seasonal Forest Service employees and occasionally 2 SCA interns helping us collect on a regular basis – maybe a few too many cooks in the kitchen, at times.

Right now, these are the steps we’ve been (mostly) following:

Make-shift fumigation center with bags and pest-strips, currently treating 310g of Carex sheldonii
  1. Freshly collected seeds are labelled and weighed to get wet-mass
  2. Seeds are fumigated for 48 hours in sealed plastic bags with insecticide pest-strips
  3. Seeds are set out to dry, usually in the same paper bag for convenience sake, but sometimes in makeshift boxes, which are easier to stack and allow more airflow
  4. Cut tests are performed, as soon as time allows
  5. After a couple weeks of drying, seeds are re-weighed to get dry-mass, and the number of seeds per gram is counted
Cereal-turned-drying box: finally an excuse to eat sugar for breakfast everyday
Shelf of drying seeds
Another shelf of drying seeds
My original, desperate attempt at containing loose, drying seeds
Dissecting scope station

In between these steps, we’re also keying out vouchers, organizing data, double-checking labels, tinkering with our map, planning field days, and fluffing the drying seed. It’s a lot of little tasks adding up to huge piles of work. Honestly, its probably a good thing that the smoke has forced us inside to deal with it all.

In other news, if you read my previous post on Delphinium sp., my mystery Delphinium turned out to be D. Depauperatum, as the little black seeds showed obvious, pale wings…

Delphinium depauperatum seeds and chaffe…on the floor

… Unfortunately, I managed to promptly dump them out onto the floor, where they couldn’t be recovered without risk of invasive contamination. We picked them up with tape, threw all of that into a new bag, and back onto the shelf it went …

… we’ll deal with it later...

long trip for a small flower (worth it)

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The first time I met with my mentor and the ranger at my office was over zoom and I asked if there were many opportunities to camp. They mentioned that around the 4th of July a rare orchid blooms in the eastern district of the Dakota Prairie Grasslands. Before I left for training people were curious about my job and not having a super specific answer for what I was doing I’d answer with native seed collection and mention the surveying of this mysterious rare orchid.

The orchids bloomed a little late this year, so we went to survey them 2 weeks after the 4th of July. The week before our excursion I spent my free time researching and reading up on them so I would be prepared. The western fringed orchid (Platanthera praeclara) grows in the Sheyenne district (which is much wetter than our district) and is declining due to multiple threats. The documents I read discussed the conservation efforts and goals from the project. It took a bit before finding one of the orchids, but once we found the first one it was very easy to notice them. The areas that were most abundant with the western fringed orchids were the sides of the roads. It was really neat and special to see such a beautiful flower for the first (and possibly only) time.

On the same trip we brought along our gear and completed a few bumblebee surveys. We got to teach the public affairs specialist, who came to see the orchid as well, how we conduct our bumble bee surveys and he ended up writing an article about it!

July was a great month full of amazing experiences and I am excited to see what August brings!

Clarence says see everyone next month