Another month has flown by here in Montana.  The leaves are starting to change and the field season is winding down.  We have been very busy habitat typing for the past month.  We are trying to get as much field work done as the understory fades away and before the snow falls.  We have been working in various habitat types and have found many interesting plants as well as old growth Larch stands.  While working there we found a fern more common to the Pacific Northwest and identified it as Pityrogramma triangularis  or Gold Fern. On the same day we measured and aged old growth Larch (Larix occidentalis) trees. The oldest Larch tree that we aged was over 400 years old and had a diameter of 38 inches. Another group was working further down the road from us and found a Larch that was over 500 years old and had a diameter of 45 inches. It was truly amazing to be standing among trees that old. I also got some great news this month, I am being extended for a few more months here in Missoula, MT! I am very excited and I am looking forward to learning as much as I can.

In my short ecologically-oriented career, I have worked a fair amount in burnt areas. I spent one summer doing vegetation sampling in north-central WA in the Tripod Fire, a huge, intense burn in an overstocked, fire-suppressed forest. The level of destruction was incredible. Some areas were absolutely scorched! What really surprised me was how beautiful the burns could be sometimes, and I have been reminded of that to some extent lately as I have been out CLMing. Lately, we have been assessing the intensity of very recent fires. This is the first time I have been in such recent burns (a month or so after the fire), and I was surprised to see things (e.g. desert peach and a buckwheat (I think it was elatum)) already resprouting! But again, I was struck by how beautiful the burns could be. It brings out a different kind of starkness and makes the landscape seem even vaster than it already does. It’s also fascinating to see how the fire skipped some areas despite burning everything else around them, and it makes me wish I had taken more fire ecology classes in school. It all adds another level of appreciation to the desert in particular and the natural world in general, and I hope I get to do more work with fires in the future.

    I’ve just made it into the 4th month of my internship and only have four weeks left until I make the journey back to my home state. Things have been busy lately and I welcome the change of scenery and projects. This last week, two of the seasonals that I worked with for the last 4 months left to go back to their homes. I will admit, it was a little sad. When I moved 22 hours across the country I knew full well that I would know absolutely no one. Over the last few months, the two wildlife seasonals, the other CBG intern and myself formed a family. A dysfunctional one at times, but none the less, a family.

Now its just me and Cory, the other CBG intern. With the loss of the others, our objectives and projects have shifted. For the first time all summer,we have the freedom to  plan our own schedules, which I really enjoy. For the past 3 weeks Cory and I have been working on a artificial water project concerning the importance and placement of wildlife escape ramps and we will continue to survey local cattle troughs to collect data. We have also been given the opportunity to work on some riparian projects as well, which we are both excited about. I’m anxious as this field season comes to an end and look forward to what the future hold for all of us.

When I first began my internship in eastern Montana I thought that five months was a very long time, but nearing the end now it seems to have flown by. Having submersed myself in plant identification and seed collection of species in the area I have come to appreciate the diversity offered even in a place that is not so kind to plant growth. I’ve been told that because of the heavier than normal rainfall the landscape stayed green much longer and plants flowered in places with abundance not usually seen. For this I am grateful to have observed, because when the heat and dryness of August arrived it truly became a struggle for plants everywhere here. Add to the weather the grasshoppers and the fact that the cattle graze EVERYWHERE; I was sometimes amazed that there were any seeds to collect.
Living in a smaller town is a different experience, and though I have lived in small towns before, they never are alike. People definitely have to make their own fun here while trying to participate in whatever is being offered in the locale. A part of that fun is exploring the immediate/distant area with road trips. I totally enjoyed traveling to and exploring Glacier National Park, Yellowstone National Park, Custer State Park, Rushmore National Monument, Theodore Roosevelt National Park and parts of Idaho on my time off.
I am grateful to have this time because being out of my comfort zone I was able to see life from a different perspective. I not only learned a lot about botany, but also about others and myself. I now feel fairly confident in my botanical skills and look forward in using it in future endeavors. Life truly is an adventure, and you never quite know what is around the next turn. The trick is to enjoy the ride.

I stepped out of the air-conditioned cab of my BLM vehicle. Heat surrounded me. I lost my breath. The suffocating heat of summer was asphyxiating. I was nervously anticipating the call of duty, the heat of the day, and the mission before us- but it had to be done. Our mission was to defeat the alien invaders from their newly colonized landing atop one of the rarest ecosystems on the planet. We were to attack at high noon.
The Monvero Dunes are located in the mountainous western boundary of California’s central valley (Tumie Hills area). The Monvero area comprises a number of small dune islands located on the summits of Monocline ridge, a jagged ridge that hugs the eastern rim of the mountains. The vegetation is unique to the zone. A unique array of plants has colonized these dune islands, including several species native to the Mojave Desert, hundreds of miles away. The dunes are also home to the rare and endangered kangaroo rat and Monvero beetle.
These species are now suffering the overthrow of their precious communities and robbery of their resources by a colony of aliens, which is why we were here now: to remove the aliens by force and restore the precious balance of life that existed before the invasion.
We grabbed our weapons of choice and silently ascended the steep sandy slopes. To our dismay, we saw that we were highly outnumbered, but the unsuspecting aliens were armed only with small spines. We begged the higher powers for strength, and jumped into action.
The battle was on. Sand was flying. The heat was intense. The weight of our weapons seemingly increased with each blow. The shadows of the mountains grew long and elegant as the evenings hue burned red. The battle endured.
As the sunset and the moon rose, corpses littered the sands. We combed the battlefield for any survivors. There were none.
Exhausted, sun-burned, tired, but victorious, we celebrated that evening under a millions stars with the kangaroo rats, the beetles and the accomplishment of holding onto a gem that would have otherwise been lost forever.

I am now well into my fifth month here in Farmington, NM and in terms of SOS and the work I have been doing, it has been absolutely wonderful. The nights have grown colder and the fall plants are coming out. We have many species we are monitoring and collecting from, and I estimate that we will be able to collect anywhere from 9-15 more species before the end of October. Productivity is high right now, which is soo awesome compared to last month’s dip (straddling between the two rain seasons). Aside from SOS, I feel this month has been particularly unique in that we have seen much more of the “Enchantment” this land has to offer.

We recently ventured out to Chaco Canyon, which if you do not know is home to some pretty impressive Native American ruins. We drove through the bottom of the canyon, a wide plain which straddles a lone river running through it; on either side there are ruins. Some look like small hills with broken remnants of walls and archways sticking out the top like icebergs-where the rest is hidden beneath. Others are exposed and beaten. From a distance I could immediately pick out the small knolls and monuments and began to see a picture of a city long lost through centuries of struggle and strife. A place where people were interconnected through trade, language and family. It is said that this place has trails leading off to Mesa Verde and surrounding archeological sites. In fact, in the old days runners would pass mail to each other like batons in a relay race for miles and miles; this was their method to communicate between villages.

One monument, the largest ever registered through archeological records stands over 3 stories in the distance, and is from what I could tell an old gated community in the shape of a half circle (the diameter being over 150 ft wide). I walked through small doors and passageways, stood and peered into dark tunnels and gazed through countless windows that span across the ruin, like looking into a double-mirror. The walls, made from rock and mortar, were stacked so evenly that at times seemed perfectly straight. These guys could be the masters of the slowest game of Tetris! Not to mention, in the hot New Mexico sun the shaded parts of the walls were cool to the touch, and nice to lean against. I continued to lose myself until eventually spilling out on the other side of the ruin. This place is magical, and for me immediately stood out from anything else I had experienced. The history and knowledge Chaco Canyon reveals is astounding.   

I look forward to the next month of my internship. My co-worker and I plan on camping Columbus day weekend at the GRAND CANYON! We figure, it’s only 5 hours away and this way we won’t have to envy last year’s interns (jk jk, but seriously). If things keep going like they have, then October will be the best month yet!

In spirit of the countless hours of NPR we listen to in the field~ Be well, do good work and keep in touch!

Anthony Wenke

Aside from seed collecting, the past few weeks I have been able to explore other field work at the BLM. I went out with the fisheries crew one day and helped them survey two sections of a creek, which happened to be loaded with fish! There was a lot more diversity in those prairie streams than I would have expected. Another day I went out with the seasonal wildlife biologist to assist with a swift fox study. I helped take down several camera traps to check the results after three nights of their being out, and we also set up two new transects with camera traps. It was a pretty neat process, and it was cool to see some of the pictures of skunks, raccoons, coyotes, and jackrabbits. I was also invited to tag along with a group to a recently burned area south of Miles City, for training on BAER (Burned Area Emergency Response). It was really interesting to learn how to assess a burned area on the severity and intensity of the fire on the landscape, and what different treatments might be appropriate, depending on the rating.

Outside of work, I recently volunteered at the annual bluegrass festival in Miles City, and helped sell food and slices of pies (70 total pies, of all different types!). That was a neat way to get involved in the community and hear some local talent. I also met a local woman who has been kind enough to teach a beginning quilter! That is something I’ve always wanted to know how to do; I’m almost finished with my first quilt, and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Area burned in recent fire south of Miles City

This last month has been spent mostly doing data collection for different projects in the Bodie Hills.  Bodie was a mining town in the 1880s, but is now a ghost town and state park.  The land surrounding the park, however, is managed by the BLM.  We’ve been spending a lot of time working on projects there while many 0ther BLM lands are too hot to work on.  Recently, we’ve started working on riparian transects – collecting data about the contours of the streambed, how impacted it is, etc.  It is not always easy to work along the streams, with the willows and the rosebushes, which sometimes make access both difficult and painful.  I’ve found that my favorite part of doing these transects is the hunt to find the starting points that were established in the 80s.  Its like hunting treasure – you have a map with the location of the old rebar that marks the end of each transect loosely sketched.  From there you can infer were these rebar relative to the landmarks (which are mostly sagebrush bushes) of twenty-three years ago.  The fun doesn’t always stop there though.  Last week, we enjoyed several encounters with hornets/yellowjackets who decided in two different locations that they did not want us around their nests, and proceded to sting several members of our team, including getting me a couple of times. There was a lot of grabbing of the equipment, and running.

A tough stream and some don't have any water at all!

It wasn’t until I brought a friend from home out into the field with me that I realized how much I have learned over the past few months. “Wow, you know a whole lot about an area that seems to be a whole lot of nothing” he said.  Though I was a little offended by the comment, thinking back, I remembered similar thoughts at my first glances of the Vale district. How wrong I was. Over time the “whole lot of nothing” has become an incredible, diverse land of not only plants but of rock, animals, water, and people. 

Plants. The plants are why I wanted this job. I wanted to learn more about them and about plant conservation. Over the last few months, I have not only learned about plant development, pollination strategies, seed development, and geobotany, I have seen it all in action. I have seen Sidalcea oregano grow, flower, and go to seed within two weeks. I know that on exposed, rocky slopes I can probably find Lewisia rediviva, if I get there early enough in the year.  I have discovered that the easiest way to identify a Mentzelia is to stick it to my clothes, and to never wear my favorite clothes to collect it.  Having an amazing mentor and a plant nerd co-worker was like having two encyclopedias constantly on hand, without having to carry them around. Four months of collecting, dissecting, pressing, and identifying plants has allowed me to not only learn about them, but to understand them to a far greater extent than I thought possible in such a short time.

Rocks. At the beginning, the sagebrush desert of the Vale district seemed to roll on in one continuous, unchanging landscape. Its vast openness seemed almost overwhelming. As we looked for plants in open fields, narrow canyons and atop mountains (to me incredibly large hills), I discovered how differed the landscape really is when you just take the time to look at it. The majority of Vale’s epic landscape was created about 15 million years ago when liquid basalt flooded the area during a period of significant volcanic activity. Over time this basalt has cracked, withered and been buried by sediment, soil and plants. Now, these elements come together to create some of the most amazing landscapes I have ever seen. From the vast valleys to the base-ball sized thunder eggs locals eagerly collect, Eastern Oregon is a geologist’s wonderland.  

The Owyhee Reservoir

Animals. I never thought so many animals could survive in the desert. A few of my most memorable encounters have been with rattlesnakes, herds of over 50 elk, coyotes, and wild horses.  Wild horses are a key concern for the Vale district. Though many believe wild horse populations in the West are in danger, those individuals who dedicate their lives to their protection and management would certainly disagree. In Oregon, herd numbers on average increase by twenty percent annually. To manage these growing populations, the Vale BLM gathers herds and makes young horses available to the public for adoption.

Water. Though at first the land seemed barren and dry, over time I have explored the countless springs, streams, reservoirs, and rivers of the Vale district. From the smallest seep to the massive Owyhee River, water in the desert allows for unique micro-habitats to exist for plants and animals. Many of these water bodies are continuously being degraded by livestock or being channeled away from their natural paths for irrigation. Once again, water and its management is one of the key challenges of the BLM’s multiple-use management plan.

People. The people I have met at the Vale BLM are passionate and caring. They care about the land, the animals, and the people in the area.  Over the months I have sat through some of the greatest lessons I have ever heard while riding in the passenger’s seat of the rig or sitting on my pack in the field. What I have learned this summer at the Vale BLM I could have never learned from a textbook or lecture.

The Oregon Outback

One of the most remote areas we work in, called Beatty’s Butte, is about 100 miles Northeast of our office, and almost completely outside of our county. Next to this 6800 ft. peak lie a few surrounding buttes and hills, calmly rolling and looking like green-grey velvet in the dry sun. One of these, aptly named Mahogany Butte, is just like the others except for certain things that live on the very top. As we climbed the steep slope, we entered an old-growth Mountain Mahogany forest. There we found a rare combination of shade and abundant seeds for collection. The seeds were itchy and beautiful. The tiny hairs on the long, wind-adapted spirals irritated our wimpy human skin. The view was 360 degrees of amazing. The ecology of Mountain Mahogany is mysterious, and why it colonizes certain tiny sections of the landscape is debated. As a general rule, they grow in the few high-ish elevation spots where moisture is found, but on the very top of this steep butte it seemed unlikely that this was the characteristic defining their recruitment. Just one of many undefined desert mysteries, but maybe my favorite.

Lisa, Lakeview District BLM

Itchy, beautiful, and amazingly engineered