Over the past 8 months, I’ve had a lot of really amazing opportunities here with the BLM / CLM internship program. I’ve gained experience with rare species monitoring, seed mixing, data management, GIS mapping, restoration seeding, plant identification, and more. Although I didn’t get the experience of being in a new place like most CLM interns because I already lived in Eugene, I did get to experience the place I live in a very different way.

“When I’m on all fours pawing through blades of grass in search of the tiny seedlings of Lomatium Bradshawii (a listed wetland prairie species) I feel like I’m part of a private universe.

Few people take the time to look closely… really closely at their landbase.

To most, the minute details in that particular place are completely invisible. Although plot work can at times be tedious, I try to remember how special it is to be able to interact daily with plants and animals most people will never even see.” – Rare Plant & Butterfly Monitoring in the Wetland Prairies of Western Oregon, May 2015

Most of my work centered around counting rare plants but I was also lucky to learn how to identify a variety of common species as well.

“These surveys introduced me to more than a dozen non-native prairie species and refreshed my knowledge of an equal number of native species. I’m excited to continue to hone my skills as a botanist in the upcoming months of this internship!” –   WEW Botanical Surveys, June 2015

I’m a quiet and reflective person by nature, and I don’t usually struggle with tedious activities. This internship forced me to push beyond my comfort zone and helped me to gain a renewed appreciation for all of the plant-monitoring work that is done on federal lands for conservation.

“Doing this much intensive and detail-oriented monitoring has been a challenge. There is usually a fleeting moment when I question a few life choices and fantasize about a desk job, or even my past as a bartender / waitress. I bribe myself with sips of coffee and the occasional stretch in an effort to ignore sore knees and the sharp florets poking through my socks and into my ankle bones. I agonize over my ability to detect each tiny plant and constantly push myself to look closer. My muscles strain and my mind wanders… only 30 more to go…

I’ve never meditated much but I imagine that the struggle to quiet one’s mind is similar to that of careful monotonous counting. In the end, my work equates to a few rows and columns of data; a collection of numbers to better know the trajectory of these rare species. As we walk to the car I notice my internal dialog with each step…1,2,3,4… I’m caught in a loop of numbers and when I close my eyes I can see those delicate leaves, the bashful flowering stem, and a particular shade of green that separates one plant from another in my mind’s eye.” – Counting Daisies, July 2015

Although it was sometimes a challenge, this position helped to solidify my future goals and gave me renewed motivation to pursue restoration as a career.

“Oddly, the notion that I could spend the rest of my life working to unlock the best possible way to restore native plant communities… and never truly find that answer… is one of the most appealing aspects of becoming a restoration practitioner. Unending challenge and the constant need to adapt, re-think, and start over, sounds like a lot of fun. Field work detached from that thought process will never hold my interest for more than the short term.” – An End to Vegetation Monitoring… The Beginning Of? August 2015

When I started this internship, I had already been working for over a year to put together a funded research project so that I could get my master’s degree. 8 months later, I’m finished with my first term of school and well on my way to designing several restoration-related research projects for my thesis. I’m thrilled to be one step closer to my goal of becoming a researcher and restoration practitioner.

“After several years of constantly feeling like everything was either just about to work out or blow up in my face I often look back and think of many things I wish I had known or done differently.

One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was how to tell the difference between things I had control over and those I didn’t… to put my future in the hands of my advisor and a host of strangers… and to just hope everything would work out.” – How Not to Start Graduate School, September 2015

One of my favorite activities of this internship was making wild seed mixes for restoration projects in the Willamette Valley. Doing this work solidified my desire to one day become an experienced grower of native plants.

“There is something truly amazing about being elbow deep in a bag full of Lomatium nudicaule seed that made the journey all the way from wild collection in a nearby remnant prairie, into a seed increase bed at a local native plant nursery, through an intense cleaning process, and finally back into the hands of the ecologists and botanists who will plant them into the threatened habitats they started in.” – Seed Castle October 2015

“While sprinkling the seed that I mixed while working at the “Seed Castle, I realized that this internship has allowed me to come full circle. Last spring and summer I spent my time quantifying the percent cover of native prairie species, then I learned to make seed mixes, and finally I got to spread seed on the ground for the next intern to quantify.” – Job Security, December 2015

The day is coming to an end and I’m turning in my ID card, keys, cleaning the hard drive, and compiling a list of accomplishments to add to my resume. I’m looking forward to devoting all of my time to my master’s degree and my research in the Great Basin this spring but will miss the meadowlark songs in the summer heat of the prairie, the hummocky wetland landscape, and the feeling of being at the beginning of this journey.

After an entire summer of plant monitoring it was a nice change of pace to help with a post-burn native seeding project on two BLM sites. When I was sprinkling the seed that I mixed while working at the “Seed Castle, I realized that this internship has allowed me to come full circle. Last spring and summer I spent my time quantifying the percent cover of native prairie species, then I learned to make seed mixes, and finally I got to spread seed on the ground for the next intern to quantify.

It took Christine and I 4 full days to seed nearly 40 acres of wetland prairie by hand. We would each carry two 5-gallon buckets filled with seeds and a corn husk filler material and try to distribute the seeds as evenly as possible. To keep track of where we had already been we worked in transects marked by pin-flags.

These two sites were both intentionally burned earlier in the fall. The reason behind controlled burning in this prairie system is to decrease encroachment from weedy grasses and small trees and shrubs. These ecosystems are utterly dependent on fire to maintain their open structure and the BLM and other agencies in the Willamette Valley use fire as a tool for restoration. Seeding after a burn gives native seeds a better chance of out-competing woody and invasive species.

As you can see, the recently burned soil surface produces a great environment for the germination of seeds and is also home to a variety of fungi. The bunchgrasses and carex species that grow in the prairies have adapted to frequent fire (a product of Native American management for thousands of years).

At the end of the day I got a dose of what I imagine the rest of you working in rangeland habitats encounter all the time.. cows! In the Willamette Valley there are very few public lands that still facilitate grazing and this herd of cows probably escaped from an adjacent private landowner’s property.

This was the first time I came in contact with cattle while doing restoration. My feelings about grazing-induced ecological collapse aside, being in the presence of these animals spawned a few unexpected realizations on my part. First, cows (especially with young calves nearby) are stubborn and kind of scary. I was especially concerned for my safety when I realized the sheer irony of a 12-year vegan being mauled by a meat cow while doing habitat restoration. Second, cows will eat native seeds right out of your wheelbarrow while your back is turned third, if you leave a five-gallon bucket unattended, cows will try to put their entire head inside, and finally, cows do not seem to understand my sarcasm when I refer to them as restorationist job security.

One of the great things about the Eugene BLM office is the amount of collaboration that goes on between our office and other nearby agencies, conservation groups, universities, and community members. I truly believe that this level of collaboration, and sharing of resources is vital to successful restoration now and in the future. Over the past few weeks, I got a chance to see this collaboration in action.

Lomatium nudicaule

Instead of office work, I got to work in collaboration with the City of Eugene to help create a handful of native seed mixes for use on several nearby restoration sites, and an ongoing research project at the University of Oregon. Two other women and I spent 3 days measuring and mixing this commonwealth of seeds for dispersal on wetlands and upland habitats all across West Eugene.

The Seed Castle

The so called Seed Castle, where we did our mixing, is a dilapidated old wooden warehouse in the middle of an industrial park. From the outside you would never guess that within it’s aging walls are hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of native graminoid and wildflower seeds.

With a stockpile of seeds this large, it’s hard not to appreciate the sheer magnitude of kick-ass native plant potential in this one room. Even with my limited experience growing and collecting native seed, I was awe-struck by not only the volume of seeds, but also the diversity of species. There is something truly amazing about being elbow deep in a bag full of Lomatium nudicaule seed that made the journey all the way from wild collection in a nearby remnant prairie, into a seed increase bed at a local native plant nursery, through an intense cleaning process, and finally back into the hands of the ecologists and botanists who will plant them into the threatened habitats they started in.

As my internship begins to wind down here at the Eugene BLM office I find myself basking in the anticipation of my first term as a masters student at Oregon State University.

Two summers ago I took an intensive 2-week course in ecological restoration and knew from that moment onward that I wanted to one day become a restoration practitioner. I still had over a year of course work ahead of me to finish my B.S. and had not given serious thought to graduate school. When the professor of my summer restoration course recruited me to be in his new lab at Oregon State University it felt like one of those moments when you just have to say yes without a second thought. I did say yes, and I’m truly glad I did, but I never would have expected how things would actually play out.

It’s two years later and I just now feel like I’m starting to understand how all the pieces fit together. I had so many misconceptions going into this whole process that it’s kind of amazing it worked out at all. One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was how to tell the difference between things I had control over and those I didn’t… to put my future in the hands of my advisor and a host of strangers… and to just hope everything would work out. I also had to learn to be my own advocate.

After several years of constantly feeling like everything was either just about to work out or blow up in my face I often look back and think of many things I wish I had known or done differently. Other times I look back and am glad that the road was rough because it forced me to navigate a very confusing and nebulous bureaucratic system, gave me an appreciation for how difficult it is to find funding for research, and to accept that there are many many things that are just simply out of my hands. Maybe the emotional roller-coaster I’ve been on the last two years was a product of my stubbornness to learn these lessons.

For anyone thinking about graduate school, (and more specifically a research-oriented M.S.) I cannot stress enough how important it is to lean heavily on at least one faculty member who has lots of experience advising graduate students and who has consistently found grant money for said students. At face value it seems like you can do most of the heavy lifting to get a research project up and running by yourself so long as you get accepted into a graduate program, but in reality for things to go smoothly one (or several faculty members) have to essentially pave the way for you (and they have to pave it well).

I’m just about to start school in 2 weeks and have a grant with enough funding to get me most of the way through my degree. Since I first embarked on this journey I’m just now about to start working towards my degree for real, all after hopping between half a dozen research ideas, three different departments at OSU, authoring several grant applications, and arriving at many many dead ends along the way. Despite the rough road I still feel very fortunate to be where I am now. I also can’t shake the feeling that I’ve already made it though the hardest part. At least now I can mostly see the path forward and have gained the confidence to know that with the help of my committee and and others I will be able to see this through.

Sericocarpus rigidus, the last species to count this summer.

Since starting at the BLM here in Eugene in April, the majority of my time has been spent doing various forms of vegetation monitoring. I’ve spent many weeks counting and documenting the number of individuals in a particular population of rare plants to help the BLM better understand the trajectory of these species and to continue or make changes to existing management protocols. As of today, we have completed the very last of our rare plant surveys. My feelings are mixed. I guess I’m not exactly sure what my main focus will be for the next few months and worry that my future holds a lot of data entry… which, as it turns out, I am terrible at. With a little luck I’ll figure out a way to get in the field with a machete and an weed whacker and hammer on some wetland prairie invaders, like prickly pear and blackberry.

One thing that I’ve realized after two botany-related internships over the past year and a half is that being outside and working with plants is only part of what I want for my future. Oddly enough I yearn for daily struggles, problems with open-ended solutions, and the ability to adapt my actions to meet these challenges. To me this confirms my desire to work in restoration. Before studying habitat restoration, the term adaptive management was unknown to me. Now that I’ve seen a variety of restoration and research projects aimed at supporting native plant populations, it has become my creed. Oddly, the notion that I could spend the rest of my life working to unlock the best possible way to restore native plant communities… and never truly find that answer… is one of the most appealing aspects of becoming a restoration practitioner. Unending challenge and the constant need to adapt, re-think, and start over, sounds like a lot of fun. Field work detached from that thought process will never hold my interest for more than the short term. Although positions like I find myself in now are not my ultimate end-goal, I am comforted that it will take me one step closer. As I get older (I’m 31 now), I often wonder if I’ll know when I’m at that jumping-off point, that moment when the next chapter starts. Will I recognize that moment when it’s time to quit that last safe job and launch full force into a risky but rewarding career? I’m not sure how long or what it will take for me to get to that point, but I’m hoping that starting graduate school this fall at OSU will bring me closer.

Over the past few months I’ve spent a minimum of 23 full days counting individual plants, and their flowers or flowering stems. That equates to 184 hours on hands and knees picking through scratchy weedy grasses, blackberry canes and poison oak to find various rare plants. Most recently my co-worker Christine and I just finished doing a complete census of a listed species of daisy called Erigeron decumbens on each of our many wetland prairie sites.

Doing this much intensive and detail-oriented monitoring has been a challenge. The thoughts that go through my head during particularly long stretches of flower-counting most resemble my experience of jogging. At first, I convince myself that it will fly by… but not too long after I find myself calculating progress versus length of road ahead or transects left to count and finally digress into an internal battle to keep moving forward. There is usually a fleeting moment when I question a few life choices and fantasize about a desk job, or even my past as a bartender / waitress. I bribe myself with sips of coffee and the occasional stretch in an effort to ignore sore knees and the sharp florets poking through my socks and into my ankle bones. I agonize over my ability to detect each tiny plant and constantly push myself to look closer. My muscles strain and my mind wanders… only 30 more to go…

About this time I have passed the half way point. My movements become more efficient and calculated and I find relative peace knowing that the hardest part is over. My mind loosens it’s fixation on the end and allows me to push through. In the final stretches, I bask in the glow of hard-earned accomplishment. Once I take my last step / stoop to count the last plant I feel as though I could keep going and going, my mind fully surrendered to the task just completed.

I’ve never meditated much but I imagine that the struggle to quiet one’s mind is similar to that of careful monotonous counting. In the end, my work equates to a few rows and columns of data; a collection of numbers to better know the trajectory of these rare species. As we walk to the car I notice my internal dialog with each step…1,2,3,4… I’m caught in a loop of numbers and when I close my eyes I can see those delicate leaves, the bashful flowering stem, and a particular shade of green that separates one plant from another in my mind’s eye.

Erigeron decumbens

I’m still fairly new here but I’m starting to feel very comfortable with my new position. Over the past 6 weeks working for the West Eugene Wetlands BLM office I’ve gained a lot of botanical survey experience and have learned to identify many new species!

Lupinus oreganus

Although nearly all of the areas we perform rare plant surveys are within Eugene’s urban industrial complex, it’s amazing how many native plants still exist despite daunting anthropogenic pressures. In the past weeks I have spent many hours talking a census of Lomatium bradshawii, Lupinus oreganus, and Erigeron decumbens at all of our project sites.

Some of these populations are natural and others have been planted for restoration purposes. Most recently I have been working on monitoring and weeding a particularly successful installation of Erigeron decumbens  [pictured below].

Erigeron decumbens installation

Despite the monumental task of keeping this site weeded and counting each flower (yes you read that right) it was still exciting to see these plants thriving. Unfortunately, there are few examples of rare plant installations in the Willamette Valley that are this successful.

In order to track changes in species composition at many of our project sites, I assisted with low intensity monitoring. At each site we estimated percent cover at many randomly placed 1-meter square plots. In many cases each one-meter-square plot contained on average 10-15 different species. In some of the most diverse plots we found more than 25 different species!

Species composition monitoring plot

By monitoring species diversity and abundance in this way, it is possible to identify potentially problematic weed infestations and also allows the BLM to quantify the effects of management practices like prescribed burning and mowing on their sites. Doing these surveys introduced me to more than a dozen non-native prairie species and refreshed my knowledge of an equal number of native species. I’m excited to continue to hone my skills as a botanist in the upcoming months of this internship!

Although the West Eugene Wetlands are only ten minutes from where I lived for many years, there is always more to learn and experience in this captivating landscape. As a new CLM intern for the BLM, I have gained a renewed appreciation for these precious places and the rare plants and animals that live here.

When I’m on all fours pawing through blades of grass in search of the tiny seedlings of Lomatium Bradshawii (a listed wetland prairie species) I feel like I’m part of a private universe.

Few people take the time to look closely… really closely at their landbase.

To most, the minute details in that particular place are completely invisible. Although plot work can at times be tedious, I try to remember how special it is to be able to interact daily with plants and animals most people will never even see.

Only when I’m walking through the hummocky patches of prairie here in the Willamette Valley does it hit home what this ecosystem once was. Even though these wetland prairies now only occupy 1% of their pre-colonial extent, the intact remnants that do remain are truly amazing.

From the low vernal pools filled with popcorn flowers to the oak and ash groves teeming with camas I’m in a botanist’s paradise.

It’s strange to think that in my not-so-distant past there was a time when these places and the species that inhabit them were invisible to me too.

Although I still get odd looks when I explain to my friends and family that I plan to spend all summer counting butterflies and daisies I secretly pity them for missing out on knowing these creatures so well.