Daily Archives: 17 July, 2024

Setting New Roots

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Travelling and moving to a new place can always be daunting, but Pollock Pines has quickly become home. June started off with the CLM training in Chicago, where I got to meet Dean (co-intern) for the first time! We were able to explore the campus of the Chicago Botanic Garden, learn more about the Garden’s goals and how to be a botanist, and meet other interns from across the country! We explored while listening to the cicada’s roar in the forests, during an amazing hatch of the 17-year, 13-year, and brood XIX and XIII co-emerged. It was absolutely fantastic seeing the so many cicadas! Then, some of the interns went to Chicago for our celebratory night after the training! Great food, exploring a new city and amazing new friends made along the way!

Frog that Dean found!
CBG Cicada
Corpse Flower

Then I had a quick turnaround to move to Pollock Pines for the season! I packed up from Boise, Idaho and drove the quick 9 hours to Pollock Pines! I got to see Lake Tahoe for the first time in the daylight, and I was greeted at home with a gorgeous sunset. Now comes the challenging part, learning a completely new flora! Dean is from the area and is very knowledgeable, which is much appreciated! The Sierras are absolutely breathtaking, the exposed granite and some serious topography. Dean and I did a lot of onboarding while also trying to get into the field when we could!

Then, my friend Iris invited me on a camping trip to Loon Lake! She’s the crew lead for the North Zone botany team of the El Dorado. It was such a fun weekend meeting her crew as well as the wildlife crew! We went on a beautiful hike to Bassi Falls and spend a lot of time swimming. Such a great weekend!

Bassi Falls hike
Loon Lake
Capri suns at Bassi Falls
Bassi Falls

Dean and I got to assist the pollinator team with rare plant pollinator networks. We went out with the Cal State East Bay pollinator team and learned how to do pollinator networks for Lewisia kellogii. I really enjoyed learning about pollinator networks and how plant conservation benefits by supporting pollinator communities.

L to R- Stephanie, Beth, Dean, Diana, Paulina
Dean looking for plants
Lewisia kellogii hutchersonii
Pollinator networks
Pollinator networks
Silver Lake
Gorgeous view of Silver Lake

Dean and I went out the next day and assisted the California Native Plant Society on mapping Lewisia kellogii hutchisonii (one of the rare plants on the El Dorado). We looked for flowering Lewisia, and then marked them. The Lewisia retracts back into the ground once pollinated to develop the seeds, which is why we needed to mark them for some seed collection! Working with the CNPS team was wonderful to see how professional careers develop in botanical sciences.

Cool Fly
Gorgeous field filled with swallowtails and monarchs
Ichneumonid with a giant ovipositor
Lewisia kellogii hutchersonii
Washington Lily
Sierra Tiger Lily
Monarch caterpillar!
Swallowtail caterpillar!

I’m looking forward to what comes next! The El Dorado is absolutely amazing!

Great start to the summer!

Greetings from Willamette National Forest

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Howdy!

My name is Kaitlyn Skelton, a recent graduate from Stephen F. Austin State University in Texas, where I earned my degree in Agriculture with a concentration in Horticulture.

Recent Agriculture graduate Kaitlyn Skelton from Stephen F. Austin State University’s Arthur Temple College of Forestry & Agriculture, with experience in gardening and small-scale farming and a focus on regenerative practices.

This summer, I am working as a seasonal botany intern here in the beautiful and resilient landscapes of Oregon. Moving from the warm plains and rolling hills of Texas to the lush, albeit fire-scarred, expanses of the Willamette National Forest has been eye-opening. With a background in agriculture rather than forestry or environmental sciences, there is a definite learning curve. However, I believe that this background allows me to bring a fresh perspective to the field.

The cross-country drive to Oregon was spectacular, showcasing the incredible variety of the American landscape. However, the specific climate of the Pacific Northwest is distinct and strikingly different from any other region I have visited. The shift while driving into this area is burned into my memory. Towering trees envelop the highways and Detroit Lake, with its stunning vistas, is a sight to behold.

Mount Jefferson, the second highest peak in Oregon, standing at 10,495 feet

My new home is on a compound, allowing me to fulfill a long-held dream of walking to work. The view outside my apartment is stunning, making it hard to stay indoors for long. With no air conditioning, lounging outside in a hammock or lawn chair becomes not just a preference but an occasional necessity, anyway. The Detroit Ranger Station, where my office is, is only a short walk from Detroit Lake, and offers impressive views of the forest. From the lake, the impact of the 2020 wildfires is obvious, reminding us of the forest’s vulnerability and the importance of conservation efforts.

Double-decker hammocks that my co-intern and I set up behind our apartment

That’s great, but what are you actually working on out there?

As an intern with the Chicago Botanic Garden’s Conservation and Land Management (CLM) Program and the Seeds of Success program, I am focused on native seed collection. Collecting native seeds supports biodiversity and habitat restoration, crucial in combating climate change. By gathering wildland native seeds for research, driving developmental projects, conserving genetic germplasm, and supporting restoration initiatives, we preserve diverse plant communities. This enhances the resilience of ecosystems to environmental stresses, contributing to a healthier and more sustainable future. The hands-on experience and mentorship I receive make this work deeply rewarding and impactful.

Aquilegia formosa seeds, collected for restoration efforts, are essential for revitalizing native plant communities in the Willamette National Forest

The other half of my work involves collaborating with the US Forest Service to maintain and restore the Willamette National Forest. Spanning over a million acres, this forest is a treasure trove of old-growth trees, pristine lakes, and rugged mountains. However, the wildfires of 2020, including the devastating Lionshead and Beachie Creek Fires, scorched over 400,000 acres, leaving behind charred landscapes and disrupted ecosystems. Many days are spent clearing invasive species that threaten the delicate balance of the ecosystem and scouting native plant populations to ensure their survival and regrowth. With the seeds we are collecting, we can even reseed damaged areas, helping restore these vital habitats.

View of fire damage in the Willamette National Forest from Whitewater Trailhead, which is closed to the public due to unsafe conditions from the Lionshead Fire

Ongoing recovery efforts focus on restoration, habitat rebuilding, and fire prevention. While the scars of the wildfires are still visible, the forest’s resilience is evident as new growth emerges from the ashes.

Although I am only beginning this journey, I find it incredibly rewarding. The opportunity to work with a dedicated team and contribute to the restoration of Willamette National Forest fills me with gratitude and excitement. I look forward to deepening my connection with this remarkable ecosystem and community and playing a part in its recovery and preservation.

Kaitlyn Skelton

June in Tonto

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I grew up in the Phoenix valley, west side, and never really knew much else until after high school. It was almost overwhelming walking through the Tonto National Forest. I had never seen so much of an area so free of concrete. Not completely, there were still power lines and fencing, but it was there to keep the wildlife wild and away from the tame world of society. Still, is in an incredible experience to be able to walk through the Tonto and its abundant resources. Seeing the parts of a system work together as insects pollinate the plants that feed the larger animals. When nothing happens in the forest, the most magical song plays by an orchestra of songbirds accompanied by the breeze playing through the trees. As a child, playing outside was riding my bike through the cul-de-sac until the asphalt was too hot to ride over. To be able to just walk through tree-shaded trails is such an indescribable feeling. To think the wilderness has always been just out there. To think there used to be so much more. I cannot understand why humans replaced the forest with concrete jungles. I have only grown more passionate about environmental protection, conservation, and education. Being out with nature makes one connect with their environment and understand themselves. It is so fun to think this as I scout for plants.

The image above is of my first time in a meadow. There was so much tall grass to wade through and stomp over, even though this image may not show it. Yes it was incredibly hot and humid and filled with so many fascinating insects, but it was all so new to me and just wonderful. This blog post was more about how this opportunity has strengthened my decision in continuing field biology. Less about the work itself but the environment it brought me to. Outside work is not for everyone. Honestly, my first field assignment was to pull out weeds, and I had so much fun digging into soft dirt. Anytime my family had to do yardwork we needed pickaxes. These were available at that first assignment but were not necessary with how soft the soil was. Working outside in the Arizona Summer is definitely scary and not for everyone. It is intense and the heat risks are very high. Luckily growing up here I am confident in my capabilities to handle it and take action as I recognize signs of heat stress. The summer has started off strong this season and I look forward to continuing exploring the Tonto National Forest.

Air

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A thick, heavy layer of clouds hugs the rocky shores and shoals of southeast Alaska, fluttering its thousand whispering notes through the Sitka spruces, soon to be carved into guitar necks and drum frames. Its mistral arms wrap round the eaglets in their nests and embrace the porcupines; it swaddles fjords in fog, entombs ships’ lights in a steely gray and swirls over the icy spires of the Klawock Range. Funneled into the steep sides of the Inside Passage, ocean winds mix and churn into a roiling silver wind of salt spray.

Many days, after gorging itself on the warm Pacific current, this layer of clouds droops with a leaden cargo of water until coalescing into the famous Alaska rain. This rain (of which southeast Alaska receives more than any other place in the country) is the chilling, soaking variety that drives bees to cower under flowers and grizzled old fishermen to sing sea shanties on the docks. It percolates through the sparse, rocky soil to bind together some particles and wedge apart others that finally collapse into enormous landslides. One curious thing I have noticed is that rain here seldom is packaged into hammering thunderstorms – the cumulonimbus clouds that electrify the Midwest require hotter summer air than Alaska receives. It arrives as a lighter, more persistent tap-tap-tap that seems always ready to drop out of the precariously perched clouds at the slightest disturbance. It is a rain that makes excellent weather for sitting on the Thorne Bay Library porch, writing blog posts like this one and drinking convenience store coffee (brewed for sailors, so strong that it has to be beaten back into the cup with a spoon).

Setting sail from Ketchikan Harbor to Prince of Wales Island

On other, less frequent days, the dome of clouds is whisked away to reveal the warm sun that encourages the treetops and teases the mosses and ferns below – even on the brightest days, the dense tangle of conifer needles that roofs the Tongass keep the forest floor cool and shaded. We spent five days in the Karta River Wilderness with this rare Alaska sunshine, where it shimmers off mirror-still lakes and the bald heads of seals in the bay. After long days of backpacking, pulling foxgloves and hacking through heavy brush, returning to our camp in the ever-shady understory felt a sweet relief. There the sun hovers long over the horizon, scattering its fiery rays over the rippling trout streams until ten at night and returning by four o’clock the next morning.

The Klawock Range that spans the middle of our island

I am always fascinated by the sublime beauty that weather can display. Alaska is a land of extremes – to borrow from folk singer Hobo Jim, “this is the country where legends are born.” The Pacific Northwest Coast is the largest temperate rainforest in the world, and I can think of no better place to see weather’s creative forces at work than a land where it raises up colossal trees like mossy pillars from six-inch-deep soil. Where fourteen-foot tides are normal and krummholz pines cling tenuously to life on the windswept mountains. And where cloudberries – of which I am trying my best to find just one good patch ­– really do grow within clouds in the cold, foggy muskegs. I am greatly looking forward to the rest of our season here in the Great Land – whatever way the wind blows.

Overlooking Karta Lake

The last few weeks recap

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The past few weeks have flown by! Since training, Iran and I have been to the Leo Grove, and the Little Green Meadow sites on the Tonto Forest. Both were very different sites- Leo Grove is a covered pine-forest dry woodlands area, whereas the Little Green Meadow was pretty self-explanatory, a wetland full of rushes with winding small streams through the center. My favorite plant right now is the plant Phleum pretense, mostly because I think it’s a dumb name for a plant, it reminded me of the nonsense words in the Rick and Morty Plumbus commercial and the florets look like little Batman helmets. (See the image below for my super detailed and informative drawing of a Phleum floret.) Also at the Little Green Meadow site, we saw little ant mounds everywhere, and I thought wow! Ants! I hope they won’t bite me. I was more worried about stepping on a hornet nest, but after seeing several large cow bones, a coyote skeleton, and bear droppings, I was more concerned about the larger things. There is a point to this I swear! The moral of the story is that no matter where we are, whether it’s in a pine forest or a meadow by a cow pasture or even in an apartment binge-watching Bridgerton season 3 until 2 am, (I highly recommend by the way) you can’t really worry about the large stuff sometimes, and I think that coming to peace with that is a good way to live in the moment and get more out of your present experience. In the wise words of Grand Master Oogway, “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift- that is why it is called the present.” In other words, I’m looking forward to future adventures on the Tonto and seeing many a green meadow later on, and maybe an eldritch terror or two that reside within them. But today, I’m happy about learning the little things and looking at plants, while enjoying a coffee and working in a city I love. Happy trails! 

-Zane