I have always shied away from the sedge family (Cyperaceae), spotting them on almost every walk through woodlands, prairies, wetlands, or neighborhoods. It would usually just be a passing comment to my partner: “Look, another sedge, and another, and another,” without giving them the attention they deserve. Cyperaceae is one of the most successful and species-rich flowering plant families in the world, explaining their presence in nearly every type of habitat. If you are a fan of water chestnuts, you ought to know that you are actually eating a corm of a sedge (Eleocharis dulcis) – pretty neat! Carex, the largest genus in this family, serves as an important ecological component of wetlands and wet prairies, making them crucial for restoration purposes. As a result, they comprise over 50% of our target species list. This group is notoriously difficult to identify, but with some time, head-scratching, and magnification, it’s not all that bad. I extend a special thanks to the botanists at Midewin (Michelle, Jen, Eric, Grant, and Anna) who have willingly shared their knowledge and provided helpful resources to enhance my understanding of this group. Taking a closer look at this diverse and often overlooked family has opened my eyes to its significance and beauty in the landscape.
The eastern prairie white-fringed orchid (Platanthera leucophaea) was once abundant throughout its range. However, the conversion of its habitat, from wet to mesic prairies, into crop land or pasture, has led to a significant decline in this species, as well as in many others. During our monitoring efforts, we had the opportunity to hand-pollinate the flowers, aiming to improve the quality and quantity of seeds. Carefully gathering pollinia on toothpicks at one site, we transferred them to plants at another site. The only successful pollinators of the eastern prairie white-fringed orchid are nocturnal hawkmoths. Despite the presence of these pollinators, the populations of these orchids remain small and fragmented so human intervention is necessary. To enhance genetic diversity, pollen is transferred from one subpopulation to another. In extreme cases, it is even shipped across the Midwest to ensure the success of this species across its entire range.
I showed up to Tonasket, Washington with a car filled to the brim with memories (junk) collected (hoarded) over my 22 years of life on the East Coast, two faded bumper stickers, and an incessantly lit check engine light. Like my Massachusetts license plate, I felt a little out of place in this small, self-sufficient community.
My position with CLM and the Forest Service has found me working on the Western half of the Colville National Forest, a mountainous forest dominated by douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) and pinegrass (Calamagrostis rubescens). While we wait for the forest’s forbs and grasses to mature enough for us to collect seeds, my co-intern and I have been conducting plant surveys alongside Tonasket’s botany team, searching for rare and invasive plants.
Views from Colville NF’s Buckhorn project area
At first I was intimidated by Erica, Tonasket’s head botanist’s, encyclopedic knowledge of the region’s plant species, but I appreciate deeply how much I have to learn from her. July Jenn already knows far more about plants than May Jenn did, and that is entirely thanks to Erica’s support and instruction. Some days the learning feels impossibly slow, like my team would probably run more smoothly without me there. But it’s the fact that despite my lack of experience, they’re still willing to bear with me and give me the opportunity to learn that I’m grateful for. Before, I was nervous that leaving academia meant the beginning of my brain’s deterioration, but it certainly won’t be rotting during the course of this internship.
So far, the team has successfully found several monkey flower (Erythranthe suksdorfii) a rare plant that the Forest Service has interest in cataloguing for further monitoring and protection. We’ve also gotten to visit known populations of columbia quillwort (Isoetes minima) and golden carpet (Chrysosplenium tetrandrum), rare plants that have previously been identified in Colville NF’s Buckhorn project area (the area in which we do the majority of our work). I feel incredibly lucky to have witnessed any of these plants in the wild, when I know some botany teams spend entire seasons searching for rare plants fruitlessly-no pun intended.
Every day is different in the field, and some are more challenging that others. My co-intern, David, and my first day conducting a survey independently of our mentor, Erica, sticks out as one of those days. Our task was to revisit a known population of Chrysosplenium tetrandrum, count the number of plants, and keep a running exhaustive species list of the project area. Simple enough. The very first hurdle of the day were my species identification skills (abysmal), the next was the path to our plant population sight (very overgrown). Navigating through unkempt undergrowth and over fallen trees alongside a healthy creek, while swatting mosquitos and avoiding prickly plants, I certainly got my socks wet a number of times, and sustained a healthy number of bruises. Discovering a Chrysosplenium population that had exploded since the last botanist site visit many years ago, however, was certainly worth the journey.
Everything is new to me here. The plants, the scenery, the gas prices. I can’t help but to think of the sights and sounds of east coast city life. The feeling of estrangement has been slow to fade–each day I encounter things that remind me how far I am from home. But I think it’s time for me to accept the unfamiliar, embrace the opportunity I’ve been given to work here, and hopefully to learn about myself alongside Okanogan County’s plant life.
butterfly and I enjoying the silky lupine (Lupinis sericeus)
The first week of interning was mainly an introduction to the Forest Service, trainings, learning local plant species and getting to know our team. We took trips to the field and collected plants to make our own sort of field guide to the grasslands. I also took one of the most interesting driving tests of my life. Our driving instructor (Brian Dickerson) wanted us to get some solid experience driving the trucks on dirt roads, so he took us on probably the most treacherous road in the area. I’m talking winding turns, loose gravel, lakes in the middle of the road, and steep boulders I didn’t even know the truck was capable of climbing. At the end of the day though, it did make me a more confident driver…I think. After drivers test, we got to help Brian check on some owl boxes in the area and look for frogs in the mud. Overall, 10/10.
View from the bunkhouse in Hill City, SD.Brian checking owl boxes.Homemade field guide.
Week two was where things got interesting. We started the process of aerial cover on our plots out at the Hay Canyon field site. This basically consists of moving large (heavy) “boardwalks” over each plot, identifying all species within a particular area of the plot, and then estimating the cover of each with another coworker. The first couple of days, it was pretty difficult for me to do all three of those things. I referred back to my field guide a lot and practically trial and errored my cover estimates until I could present a reasonable argument to my team member. We also started performing stem counts in the plots. For this procedure, a small PVC rectangle is placed in the lower left corner of the plot. Every single stem within this small rectangle must be identified to species and counted. Looking at the size of the rectangle, it does not seem so bad. However, some of the plots contain tricky species like Bouteloua gracilis, Bouteloua dactyloides, and Carex filifolia. Picking through each and every stem, verifying it is an actual stem, identifying it, and recording it can become a bit tedious at times, but I do feel quite accomplished when I am finished. Aerial cover and stem counts made up the majority of this last month, and I have gotten pretty good at identifying plant species.
Hay Canyon Field Site. (Those tiny specs are people).My best friend. Stem count quadrat.
Stem demography was next on the training list. We took measurements of development stage, stem length, and leaf length of marked grasses within each plot. This activity was rather cushy, compared to aerial cover and stem counts. One person sits and records all the numbers, while the other looks measures the stems of a small amount of grasses.
We also learned some new skills when it comes to measuring soil moisture, weather patterns, and maintaining the equipment. There are PVC tubes that go straight into the ground in the middle of each plot. Using a soil moisture probe, we can precisely measure changes in the soil throughout the growing season. We also use less advanced probes to measure the soil moisture at just two specific depths using a system called EC-5. The weather station monitors sunlight, wind, and precipitation at each of the field sites. We learned how to perform checks on all of the equipment. Lastly, our rainout shelters are an important part of the project. They simulate an extreme drought by blocking 50% of the precipitation a plot receives. Studying the differences in plant species and demography at these plots tells us a lot about how the grassland responds to drought. The shelter (see picture below) is at the mercy of the elements. The plastic shingles can become brittle in the sunlight, be severely damaged by the wind, and most recently, be absolutely annihilated by hail. After the last big storm, every single one of our rainout shelters at the badlands site was damaged and needed shingles to be replaced. Needless to say, we all learned a lot about maintaining these shelters.
Rainout shelter
After we finished aerial cover, stem counts, and stem demography for the Hay Canyon site, we got to move on to the Cedar Pass site, which is just south of Badlands National Park. The views from this site are beautiful, and the flora and fauna is just as interesting. However, the mosquitos, flies, and extreme heat were a bit much some days. It felt like no matter how much deet bug spray I put on, the insects still wanted to be all up in my business (and eyes, and nose, and ears). Like Tess said one day, “The flies are a great motivator to finish your stem counts quickly”. Last week, the heat got pretty unbearable in the badlands. There was little to no wind, no cloud cover, and radiating heat all day. I drank more water than I think I have my whole life and still ended up a little light headed. At least the view is good!
Cedar Pass Field Site view.
Our team has some fun stories and quirks. One of our supervisors, Jackie, is super energetic and even has her own catchphrases. “Take it to eleven”, referencing the movie “This is Spinal Tap” is one of them. One of the other interns, Kyle, always has a crazy story to tell about childhood, college, or culinary masterpieces (i.e. something he calls “Creamy Beans”). Perhaps one of the most interesting quirks of the team is the banana peel game. This all started when one of their previous seasonals threw a banana peel at Jackie. This seasonal, Brian, and Jackie began a years long banana war, where they would either throw banana peels at each other or hide them in some way. Think: banana peels on cars, in the mail, at your desk, etc. One day, I had a banana at lunch, and Jackie asked for the peel. She placed part of the peel on the dash of our coworkers car, and the other part in the gas cap. Our coworker later found the peel and sent a very serious text about his theories on how the rainout shelters got so destroyed. He believes it was not the hail, but in fact a very devious banana. The holes in the rainout shelters are about the the right size, so it makes sense. Jackie thinks it was more likely a cutie clementine, but apparently they are more into credit card fraud then destruction of property.
So far, I really like working with my team and living the Black Hills. When I am not counting grass out in the middle of no-man’s-land, I am most often enjoying the camping, hiking, and fishing in the area with my boyfriend. The views are stellar, and fishing is pretty good too :).
In southern Alaska, Colorado’s aspens and canyons are replaced by yellow and red cedar, by spruce and vast ocean. Utah’s diverse plant life – small geniuses in the art of conserving water – exchange places with green ferns and mossy forest floor, well-acquainted with rain and hungry for speckled light that dances slantways through dense canopy. Here, in southern Alaska, bald eagles attach to telephone wires, and locals are accustomed to the great bird’s presence. Bears follow your scent and encourage you to maintain conversation between field partners, to keep your eyes alert and to pay attention. Boats are about as common as cars for transport, and the concept of vast and grand exceed their common definitions.
Working on the Tongass National Forest this past month has meant a lot of different things. My field partner and I spent many days scouting and vouchering at potential seed collection sites, and there we collected data on the various native plant species in the area – their phenology, their population density, when we can anticipate they will go to seed. We helped out on a stream restoration crew, jamming logs into stream banks to restore meanders and a diversity of water-flow and attempt to build back habitat for spawning salmon. On one Saturday, I helped local kids paint imprints of salmon on blank T-shirts. On other days, we spent time training in safety protocols and herbicide use. We visited timber-harvest sale areas and while they looked at the trees, we looked at the understory with an eye out for anything rare, or lacking in abundance.
Identifying grasses with the larger Tongass National Forest Botany crew.
Lunch with the stream restoration crew.
While doing so, I have learned several things:
Plants, being immobile, have one of the broadest ranges of living beings.
Muskegs are the definition of the abundance of the small.
Skunk cabbage can grow taller than me, and spread wider too.
While plants in the desert might be smart in the conservation of water, plants in the rainforest know how to use water to their full advantage.
Rare plants, when you find them, feel like the most precious thing in the world.
Everything, that is, everything… is slippery.
Youth-on-age; Tolmiea menziesii.
Red Columbine; Aquilegia canadensis.
Each of these lessons stem from impactful experiences, yet perhaps the most impactful moment for me on the job this month occurred when we were conducting rare plant surveys and monitoring projects. While attending a forest-wide botany training on Prince of Wales Island – a remote four-hour ferry ride from our home Ranger District in Ketchikan – one of these rare species we were surveying and monitoring for was Yellow lady’s slipper (Cypripedium parviflorum var. pubescens). Often only showing a small, lush leaf or two, the elegant and plump lady’s slipper hides among large ferns and nestles in muskegs. She revels in the company of grasses and is what we call a “roadside rare.” How strange that such a scarce plant tends to grow best along the marginal edge of gravel roads. There are only four documented clusters of this variety of Cypripedium parviflorum on the Tongass NF. We located all four. At each site, we had multiple sets of eyes scanning every inch of ground for stems – for they are not only rare, but difficult to find. The first three sites were relatively abundant and some were in full flower, but the specimen we found at the fourth site was in poor shape. Reed canary grass (Phalaris arundinacea) reaching heights of four or five feet nearly covered the entire plant, and tree debris from a recent brushing procedure almost buried the few stems that were left.
Surveying for Yellow lady’s slipper (Cypripedium parviflorum var. pubescens).
The leaves were visibly chewed through and drooping. The chances of this fourth plant surviving seemed slim. I found myself questioning what to do. How do we choose to manage our forests? How do we decide to put our resources toward doing everything we can to attempt bringing this small cluster of stems to thrive again or acknowledge that we might not help this one, and to divert our work elsewhere? Conservation and land management is a complex task. It means making decisions about living beings other than yourself, while also managing for and understanding the impacts of your own species. It means taking the time to find the rare in the abundant, so that the ones not often spoken for might be.
Yellow lady’s slipper; Cypripedium parviflorum var. pubescens.
While the extent of our work for seed collections has been mapping potential population areas and scouting around the Caribou-Targhee, my co-intern Alex and I have been lucky enough to help out on a number of different projects, as well as spending a lot of time getting to know the plant populations here in Southeast Idaho. While working with a variety of resources across the forest, we have learned about riparian restoration, soil surveying, field photography, burn restoration, environmental education, and horsemanship. Every day is filled with opportunities to meet new people on the forest and pick up new skills.
View from Snakey Canyon while learning about NRCS soil/vegetation surveys
One of my favorite projects we worked on had us in the field with the Palisades wildlife biologists doing goshawk surveys on various project areas in the forest. Goshawks are considered a sensitive species by the Forest Service, so any project that might alter the habitat needs to undergo monitoring to determine if there are any nesting individuals present in the area. After spending hours bushwhacking through the forest, surrounded by swarms of mosquitos, we were rewarded by seeing a male goshawk circling above us. When we returned to the area hours later, we once again spotted a male goshawk. Chris, the lead wildlife biologist, told us that this behavior likely indicates that there may have been a nest in the area. The next day, we went out to a different section of the forest to monitor a known nesting site of a female goshawk. Goshawks may build several nests in a given area and can return to the same nest year after year, so they had known of a few potential nesting sites that this hawk may have returned to, and earlier this season the wildlife crew had found the nest that she chose for the season. Joe, the wildlife biologist we worked with that day, told us how this hawk’s mate had been killed last summer at a local ski resort and that they weren’t sure if there would be any signs of reproductive activity at the nest because goshawks sometimes mate for life. After arriving to the nest site and settling down into the undergrowth to watch the nest, we noticed her eyeing us (I can say with certainty that I now understand the expression “watching like a hawk”). Goshawks are notoriously defensive of their nests, and I had heard from several coworkers that we should be on the lookout for divebombing birds- some even suggested sitting with a large stick on top of our heads to give the hawks something other than our scalps to aim for! Luckily, this female opted to keep a sharp eye on our group. After sitting in captivated silence for a while, we noticed motion underneath the female, and spotted the fuzzy white bodies of at least two chicks in the nest. Going out with the wildlife biologists was a really cool experience as it gave me a chance to understand a bit more about all the steps a project needs to go through before action can happen on the forest. Even though a management plan may be as simple as removing fuels from the forest floor, it can have serious unintended impacts on the sensitive species in the area and ultimately damage the ecology of the forest.
Female goshawk in her nest
Another highlight of my time on the CT was helping out with a botany walk that my mentor set up for a group called Great Old Broads for Wilderness. During this botany walk, I got the chance to show off what I have been learning for the past month and help teach a group about plant identification and some of the native species present in the Teton Valley. The ladies that attended the walk were very enthusiastic and asked a lot of great questions about the plants in the area and some of the disturbances they were seeing along our hike. We got to tell them about the work we are doing for our seed collections, and they were very curious about what the point of seed collection was, the process of finding and collecting seed for various plants, and what they could do to help our project. I have worked in environmental education and outreach in the past, so it was fun to get to work with the public and educate a group about the work we are doing, especially because this group was so excited about learning new plants and exploring the forest with us.
While the first month has been filled with a ton of great experiences, it hasn’t come without its challenges. The first weeks of waiting for the field season to kick into gear definitely left me feeling a bit useless around the office, especially with the various difficulties I had in my Forest Service onboarding process. We have also faced many technical issues with Fieldnotes, making it difficult to document the work that we do with surveying for our target species. This, combined with our late start to surveying work, made it feel like we weren’t doing enough work for our seed collection project. Hopefully, as we move later into the season, we will be more able to make progress towards our seed collection goals!
