July in Photos

One thing about me is that I love to take pictures. I don’t have a professional camera or anything; I just enjoy pulling out my phone to capture moments that catch my eye. Which happens to be quite often.

Writing doesn’t come as naturally to me as taking photos, so for this post, I’ve decided to take you on an adventure through my camera roll from the month. I think it’s the best representation of how I spend my time here in Oregon.

July 1st, 3:24 PM
On the first of the month, Ella and I did a driving test and filled out reimbursement forms. Very exciting day.
July 2nd, 11:25 AM
We joined the wildlife crew for the day to scout for pollinators and amphibians. We worked in beautiful areas and I had a great time catching bees (and the occasional unhappy hornet), frogs, and even a rubber boa. It was memorable, and I hope we get to work with the wildlife crew more often. The photo is my coworker Ash looking very professional and awesome, taken by Ella. I’m not sure where I was when this photo was taken, but I was probably frolicking nearby.
July 3rd, 2:38 PM
This was our first day scouting alone. Honestly, we weren’t very successful in finding seeds to collect. However, I did find this Uroctonus mordax, known as the western forest scorpion, which I think is pretty cool.
July 4th, 8:47 PM
For the Fourth of July, we drove out to California. We watched the sunset and fireworks on Pebble Beach, and Ella built a campfire. Ash took this photo of the sunset.
July 5th, 1:45 PM
We explored the Redwoods (little known fact: they’re big trees), a lagoon, and Fern Canyon.
July 6th, 3:11 PM
Disaster struck. We went on one last walk (for less than an hour!) before heading back home, and my car got broken into. Ash’s backpack was stolen, but luckily there was nothing important in it besides their wallet, glasses, clothing, AirPods, sentimental items, and some other things. The police were dismissive, the insurance couldn’t hear me because of the cell service, AAA said they couldn’t help because we were far from an open repair shop, and the ranger on duty was unavailable. We covered the windows with hammocks, drove to Walmart, bought plastic wrap and tape, used a hammer to clear out the rest of the passenger window, covered it with wrap, and drove a very noisy and nauseous drive back to Oregon.

July 7th was dedicated to recovering and unhelpful phone calls.

July 8th, 1:17 PM
My camera roll from this day is just filled with plants we were scouting. Can’t we just sit and appreciate this beauty for a moment?
July 9th, 7:29 PM
Ash is the most dedicated and talented belly-flopper I know. It’s admirable and inspiring. This particular frame is from a rope swing under a suspension bridge near Detroit Ranger Station.
July 10th, 12:33 PM
There was a forest-wide picnic and we dared to socialize… This photo was taken while Ella (in the light green shirt near the back of the line) was ominously texting Ash that she could see them. Ash (in the purple shirt near the front) was very confused because they couldn’t figure out where Ella was.
July 11th, 3:18 PM
Hey! That’s my last name!
July 12th, 12:07 PM
Several days before this, I made an appointment at Safelite, giving them all the details on my vehicle and which windows needed replacing. This was the day of the appointment. We drove over an hour to Keizer to get the job done (while listening to the plastic aggressively wave in the wind), and then they told us they accidentally ordered the wrong windows. The front desk lady was lighthearted and kindly informed us that they make this mistake all the time (why would you admit this to me, especially after I had to pay $550 to schedule the appointment). We rescheduled. At least Ella and I found a good sandwich place afterward before heading back home.
July 13th, 6:31 PM
I was reading No Country for Eight-Spot Butterflies and loved this page. I resonated with “As an activist on the ground, I have often suspected that it is harder for people to rush to the rescue of a world whose magic they have not encountered for themselves, have not seen, felt, touched, turned over in their own hands.” I know that the love I have for the Earth is both a direct cause and product of the time I spend interacting with it. When you don’t spend time with people, animals, plants, and environments you love, you don’t understand the dedication people have to protecting them. My activism all stems from love for the people, things, and places around me.
July 14th, 9:50 PM
I decided that I needed to dye my hair, and Ella obliged. Don’t worry! You’ll get to see the results later in the blog.
July 15th, 5:30 PM
While collecting data on native plant populations, we usually take a photo of the population. For this photo, I decided that Ash should be included with the Acmispon americanus.
July 16th, 2:51 PM
Our first time pressing plants at Willamette! Very awesome!
July 17th, 4:14 PM
Our cubicle now has name-tags (which have since been decorated with Squishmallow stickers).
July 18th, 9:09 AM
I found this lichen while scouting for native plants. I believe it’s part of the Cladonia genus, but I’m not positive.
July 19th, 1:44 PM
Ella and a GIANT thistle at The Oregon Garden. Today, we went to Safelite again and actually got the glass replaced this time!
July 20th, 5:13 PM
We visited Portland and Multnomah Falls. I haven’t seen so many people in one place in a while, so it was a bit overwhelming. Multnomah Falls is Oregon’s tallest waterfall and the most-visited natural recreation site in the Pacific Northwest. Big deal, I guess. Also, hey! Dyed hair!
July 21st, 2:16 PM
We went to Barnes & Noble because if there’s anything I need more of, it’s books. I purchased All About Love: New Visions by bell hooks, How to Disappear: Notes on Invisibility in a Time of Transparency by Akiko Busch, and Silent Spring by Rachel Carson.
July 22nd, 11:14 AM
We did sensitive plant monitoring on Bachelor Mountain. Pretty cool. Ash had a doctor’s appointment and didn’t come to work. Ella and I are still recovering from this betrayal.
July 23rd, 9:42 AM
That brings us to today. As I’m writing this blog, it’s the morning of Tuesday, July 23rd. We are going to head to a meadow today for more native plant scouting. I had a really good breakfast this morning and slept very well, so I’m feeling particularly chipper. I don’t think Ella and Ash relate. See you next month!

OGSUWCNF! (Off to a Great Start in the Uinta-Wasatch-Cache National Forest)

Entering the field season working alongside the U.S. forest service began with memorizing many new acronyms, names, acronyms, protocols, and acronyms. My co-intern turned bestie, Cassidie and I were fortunate regarding timing as we could attend the scheduled forest wide orientation providing us a brief look into the many departments. Is it just me or did you all know that there’s a job titled ‘Silviculturist’ in Timber that manages/designs the forest and climbs trees for a living, or that the ‘Hot Shots’ from Fire are essentially the marines of the forest service? Put simply, I’ve learned a lot in my short time here and have quickly adjusted as everyone from Uinta-Wasatch-Cache (UWC) has welcomed us with support and smiles all while purveying the importance of safety in these positions.

One of the aspects I love about this forest is that they understand the value of people and that they work best when placed in a work environment they can thrive in, so I wanted to be sure to recognize the people imperative in such roles through these blog posts. Sierra, our boss and mentor goes above and beyond for us despite her busy schedule. We quickly realized that she’s an astute leader who see’s the larger picture and provides us with many opportunities involving developing new skills, networking, overall growth within the career path and so much more. She’s more than prepared us with the tools we need to succeed in this position and trusts us to get the seed collection job done. For instance, one of the first tasks she assigned us involved creating a pamphlet for our target species which has proven to be extremely helpful in:

1.) Becoming familiar with the species

2.) Quick identification out in the field

3.) Sharing our species list with others to let us know if they see them

We look forward to proving her right.

Our first field day involved working with a geologist who piloted the drone pictured above to survey populations of the endemic to Logan Canyon, therefore found nowhere else in the world, Primula maguirei aka Maguire Primrose. This was the first time drones had been used for botany in this forest and we’re thrilled for it’s potential use in the field since this primrose grows on cliff-sides that are hazardous for field techs to get to. Attempts to get closer are not only dangerous, but also disrupt the habitat they grow in. Previously, field techs would use binoculars to count populations, understandably creating a margin of human error. Using drones could remove that margin of error through imagery and spectral signatures, accurately identifying and counting populations while potentially including areas that have been out of reach.

Being involved in this project came with an important reminder that unlike national parks that are meant to be preserved, national forests get used. This key factor is why it’s important to get this work done, particularly for this species. Utahn’s love their outdoor activities. People swarm from all over to join them in the great outdoors Utah has to offer, myself included. One of the reasons this site was chosen for drone surveying was because it had a healthy sized population, but also because people like to rock climb here. Continuous recreational use of this cliff-side would cause detrimental effects to the habitat thus the population.

Adventuring into the forest with the botany technicians is when I began to feel like I was making a true contribution. We helped them complete element occurrences (EO’s) which involve monitoring an area with a previously recorded siting of a threatened, endangered, or sensitive (TES) species. It’s important for botany tech’s to revisit said sites, especially if it falls within Fuels sites, Timber sale sites, or construction geographic information systems (GIS) polygons. The idea is to prevent a potential rare population from being obliterated. Fortunately for us, almost every site revisited contained the rare species we searched for! Here are a few that we were lucky enough to get pictures of.

Outings with the field technicians allowed us to explore different areas of the forest and supplied us ample opportunity for seed collection scouting. The species list given seemed extensive and just a tad bit overwhelming, especially with the idea that we’d need 10-20 different populations from each of them, but we quickly overcame that as we saw many potential populations to collect from. Of course this was only after becoming familiar enough with them to confidently spot the target species from our truck. We were always allowed to ask to stop for species verification checks, which is why it could be time consuming to carpool/hike with botanists…we had many “squirrel!” moments. When Sierra determined we could start going out on our own, we began using tablets to collect data and record information for those target populations.

So far we’ve completed collections of Lomatium dissectum, Lomatium grayi, and Chaenactis douglasii. To keep our sanity we’ve also created a seemingly never ending spreadsheet of areas and populations we need to revisit once seeds have matured. In the meantime it’s been touch and go for scouting populations forest wide. We hope to collect from every population and species on our list, a daunting task to say the least since we know we’ll have moments where everything will seem to be ready for harvest all at the same time. Mother Nature waits for no one. Through this internship I’ve been able to explore the gorgeous canyons and mountains the UWC forest has to offer. I’ve even come across unusual orchids that I didn’t know existed, let alone grew here. Admittedly, it’s been difficult to avoid dwelling on how quickly our time’s been flying by, but I look forward to the many goals we aim to achieve, challenges, and adventures to come!

Platanthera dilatata
Parasitic Corallorhiza maculata

Letter to the Frogs I’ve Evicted

My time as a CLM intern started around two months ago when my car and I arrived in North Fork, California. My first friends in this novel town were two tree frogs who fancied a sleepover the night of my arrival. We discussed first day of work anxiety and local recommendations, it was crazy.

I would like to take the time to update the frogs I’ve evicted on my internship thus far.

Dear frogs,

Two months ago, I kicked you out of my house. Now, I would consider it a home. I have quickly fallen in love with the plants and people I have meet in the Sierra. You might know some of them. From the giant sequoias to the penny-sized monkeyflowers, I don’t think I will ever get bored. That reminds me, have you ever tried put a Diplacus bicolor on your head? I think it would make a great hat for you both. Also, it comes in two color options, pink and yellow!

As far as work goes, I have had the opportunity to be involved in many trainings covering various topics including seed collection, wilderness first aid, and chainsaw training. Thanks to these trainings, I feel more comfortable and confident in the field. Currently, our main projects have been collecting native grass seed, vouchering higher elevation species for future seed collections, rare plant monitoring, assessing the proper functioning condition (PFC) of meadows, and invasive species removal. I hope y’all are still following me here, because I want your input on the PFC of a couple of meadows. I have a feeling you might know a frog or two living there. To conduct PFC assessments, we worked with a hydrologist, herpetologist, and range specialist to understand different factors of the meadow’s functioning. The botany team was focused on getting a floristic inventory of the species present along with their abundances. Besides the fact they house too many sedges to comprehend, I have a newfound appreciation for these diverse systems.

In addition to the wetter environments in the Sierra, we have ventured into the far drier, granitic ecosystems. Granite formations and domes cover the forest, adding dimension between the forested mountains. I’ve enjoyed seeing the relationship between the area’s unique geology and flora. Endemic and rare plants love to squeeze between granite slabs. However, I advise you not to go, it is too hot for a mere amphibian.

I have become quite passionate about seed collecting. From scouting for populations, to understanding their phenology, I am obsessed with the whole process. I have a hard time believing that I’m getting paid to participate in a forest-wide quest where I spend time with my favorite plants and people. I bet the thrill of finding a population of a target species viable for seed collecting feels like finally landing on that lily pad which has seemed too far out of reach. And stripping a good helping of grass seed off the stalk feels like catching a juicy fly after a long day.

I am beyond excited to continue my journey as a CLM intern and to experience more lily pad and juicy fly moments. I can’t wait to write again and tell you all about them.

XOXO,

your ex-roommate, Emma

June in Sierra National Forest

In the last two months, I have thought about phenology and life cycles of plants more than I ever have.
 
Thinking about this has encouraged me to ponder my own life. For the past two decades, I have strictly adhered to a seemingly endless cycle: school, a break from school, back to school, back to a break, back to school… In this process, I faced challenges and I grew, but I remained entrapped in the rhythm. Then, at long last, the cycle was broken on May 18th of this year when I graduated from Louisiana State University.
 
From days in lecture halls and final exams to endless hours in the foothills and on the peaks of grand mountains, from suffocating humidity to bone dry heat, and from living in a metropolitan area to one with a population of just about 3,000—I had stepped into a whole new world.
 
Each day that I go to the field, especially in the burn scars that are too abundant around me, I see this reflected in the surrounding plant communities. Environmental events, such as fires, strip much of an area, leaving surviving rhizomes, seeds, and plants in a completely unfamiliar place. Still, many plants persist and reemerge, effectively encouraging the propagation of the traits most suited to survival.
 
One plant, in particular, comes to mind. This is Carpentaria californica, a shrub endemic to a select few sites in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada—all in the Sierra National Forest. It thrives in the aftermath of fire, primarily reproducing from stump sprouts after burning. The plant can grow each year, abiding by these cycles, but a radical environmental change is necessary for its significant growth. I can empathize with C. californica as I navigate a completely novel environment.

The botany crew using a drone to map Carpenteria californica!


 
The beginning of my season here marked my first time in the Sierra Nevada, my first time working in a National Forest, and my first time working a real field botany job. I was forced to become familiar with the flora of the Sierra quickly, and I just as rapidly fell in love with it.

One of my favorite plants I’ve come across in my time here: Cypripedium montanum.


That which I have learned about seeds and seed collecting is especially important to me. Seed collecting has proven to be incredibly rewarding; I am overjoyed that my work will one day contribute to the revegetation of this place that I have come to adore. Each day, I work with unbelievable views of the Sierra Nevada, familiarizing myself with a new population of plants that plays the most vital part in this process. Each of these populations are so unique, with different abundances, densities, and environments, not to mention the fascinatingly divergent anatomies of their plants and seeds. I never know quite what to expect when I set out to assess or collect from a population, and each requires much thought and discussion.
 
Recently, my co-intern, Emma, and I collected from large populations of the native grasses Elymus glaucus and Bromus sitchensis variety carinatus. The next week, we approached a new population of these plants, separated by only a couple of miles, to find radically different population specifications. Even more distinct was the population of Lupinus microcarpus variety densiflorus that we had collected a couple weeks prior. The environments and seeds could not be any more dissimilar to the ones that we would discover when navigating those grasses.
 

Collecting seeds from Lupinus microcarpus

…and cleaning the seeds!


With each seed I collect, I think about their capacity to repopulate barren environments, and I revisit my thoughts of Carpentaria californica. Just as this plant thrives with a big change in a new environment, so do I. Being in a new place doing new things has taught me so, so much. I have grown as a person and as a botanist, and I can’t wait to keep on learning in this incredible place.

Hugs from SNF!

Elanor 🙂

Home Again

Filled with excitement and nerves, embarking on this journey had me filled with a concoction of feelings. I was to return to my home state and have my first taste of my desired career. Although I had made many amazing new friends during the CLM training at the Chicago Botanic Garden, I quickly realized how much I would be learning this season. I encountered feelings of doubt and imposter syndrome as we attempted to key out dried flowers. With no formal botany experience or education, I began questioning whether I knew enough about botany to be a successful seed collector. In the few weeks between the training in Chicago and my arrival in the Chugach National Forest, I prepared myself to acquire a plethora of new knowledge. Foraging throughout my life had nurtured a connection with many native plant species, but I only knew them by their nicknames (common names). These first two weeks back in Alaska have been a whirlwind of learning and reconnection. After being away from Alaska, returning to the land and the landscape I love has been grounding and exciting. It’s like reuniting with an old friend.

Week One

During my first week, I spent a lot of time completing online training for the Forest Service, much of which was your typical large agency type stuff. A few Alaska-specific pieces of training rang of nostalgia: the bear safety training and boating training. Not a single day was spent exclusively chugging away at required training, though. On day one, my field partner, Maggie, and I visited a potential collection site for scouting. I quickly learned how niche much of my plant knowledge was and how little I knew about the plants that occur on this side of Cook Inlet. I spent several summers studying species that occur in muskeg land as a guide in my little free time, but this was a new ball game. She was kind enough to guide me through the resources she had been using and patiently guided me through much of the jargon.

Aquilegia formosa littered the sides of the Ptarmigan Creek trail on day one.

The next day, we spent a few hours IDing some plants in the field with our Forest Service mentor. On our journey, we stumbled upon an old friend – drosera rotundifolia in a muskeg surrounded by peat moss, a few patches of cotton grass, and a few orchids. Finally- I am home.

Drosera rotundifolia, my favorite plant that is often found in a muskeg.

Wednesday was an inspiring day. I spent half the day shadowing my mentor and learning about the processes the Forest Service goes through to start a new project. So many experts are involved: archeologists, botanists, wildlife ecologists, parks and recreation specialists, engineers, and hydrologists! (I am sure I am missing a few as well.) Witnessing their conversation and collaboration drew me in. 

The second half of the day was spent meeting the restoration site, to which much of the seeds we collect this season will contribute. I enjoyed witnessing the conversations between experts and how many people are involved in a project of that magnitude. The Resurrection Creek restoration project is in its second phase, and WOW, is it a big one. Seventy-four acres of riparian habitat are being restored in this project as they return the creek to a meandering, salmon-bearing system. I was privileged to meet and witness the SCA interns watering and maintaining the willows and sedges that have already been planted as part of the restoration project. 

We dedicated much of Thursday to intimately getting to know the Chugach National Forest Herbarium as Maggie and I filed away vouchers from last year’s interns. Filing the vouchers allowed me to learn more about the taxonomy of many plants that I had previously only known the common names of and an opportunity to practice saying some whacky Latin names. 

Herbarium voucher of Lupinus nootkatensis, one of our priority species for seed collection, collected by last year’s CLM interns.

We dove deeply into new references and keys with our mentor on Friday. We had more sources than I could have dreamed of! 

Week one was a whirlwind of learning, excitement, and reconnections with my roots. While a significant portion of my time was spent in front of a computer, the other half was a thrilling journey of learning new plants, receiving invaluable advice from my mentor, and establishing a harmonious working relationship with my field partner. The excitement of learning was palpable and inspiring. I savored my free time visiting harbors full of nostalgia and hiking new trails, each step reinforcing my connection to the environment. 

Week Two

Week two was full of adventure and connection. The work days were primarily spent in the field, scouting and practicing keying plants (mostly sedges). The evenings were spent connecting with new friends and bonding with my co-intern. We learned about all the exciting gadgets and tools we will use for collection, such as a seed sorting machine, which will help us efficiently clean the seeds we collect, and a funky seed collection tool, essentially a modified weed whacker designed to collect seeds rapidly. I can not wait to dive deeper and play with those later in the season!

So far, my favorite day of the season occurred that Tuesday and was full of spontaneous experiences. We were invited along on a Dall Sheep survey that morning, and again, I experienced nostalgia as we ventured out by boat on Kenai Lake- one of my favorite water systems to go out in. We were greeted by beautiful weather and several sheep on the cliffside. We witnessed the incredible blue glacial waters of Kenai Lake shine in the sunlight from shore while practicing plant ID and looking for Rams along the mountainside. We were out in the field for the second half of the workday, where we successfully keyed out a tricky sedge!! What a gratifying experience that was! That evening, after clocking out, we were invited to kayak and cold plunge on the other end of Kenai Lake with some new friends, and yet again, I felt at home on the water. These spontaneous experiences, from the unexpected sheep survey to the impromptu kayaking trip, not only added excitement to my days but also deepened my connection to the environment and the people around me. 

Each day has been a new experience filled with new knowledge, a deeper connection to my home state, and new connections with people who make me feel more at home than I ever have in Alaska. The imposter syndrome I felt at the beginning of this journey has been soothed by a profound sense of belonging and a yearning to learn and experience more. I can’t wait to see what else is in store this season, and I’m excited to share this journey with you. 

Hope, AK – and other forms of hope

The primary goal I came into this internship with was to delve deeper into the role that native seed systems are playing within the greater context of restoration efforts both in Alaska and in the greater US.  Investigating various types and methods of restoration has been of central focus of my work and studies for a while now.   Over the past couple years I’ve been curious about what native seeds systems look like on the ground, how people are implementing them, and how they are building them out.  Personally, I can’t help but think at the systems level; a wide angled, zoomed out view of the integrated whole.  Therefore, when I’m learning small details I tend to draw them to the larger context to make sense of them within the greater whole.  Therefore, within the subject of native seed systems, I’m constantly thinking about how they play into greater restoration projects and methods, and how they fit within some of the most pressing global issues of our time like climate change, widespread extinction rates, and deeply embedded social injustices. 

Late night nearing the solstice on the shores of Kenai Lake

I was able to steep within these questions and contexts during the first couple of weeks of my internship.  My position is based in the Chugach National Forest in Moose Pass, AK, and I work out of the Kenai Lake Work Center.  The setting is quite stunning: old rugged snow capped mountains that fall into the sea.  The interior of the Kenai Peninsula is dappled with many alpine lakes, most of aqua hue.  Some of the rivers run the same color.  I arrived in time to see the snow still reigning in the alpine areas (over 800 inches fell here last winter) and exactly as the red salmon began to run.  As I write now, two weeks later, it is the day after the summer solstice and everything has awakened and is thirsting for life.  Since the summer seasonal window is so much shorter here than the lower 48, the summers really come in a burst of life that makes you come fully and wildly alive too.  I feel like a child again, refusing to sleep because I don’t want to miss a thing.

The history of this place, and context of the restoration project where our seed collecting efforts are being funneled, are wrapped within the raw elements that initially formed this unique environment and make this area so awe-inspiring.  65 million years ago when the Kenai Mountains were formed, gold formed load deposits within the rocks during its crystallization.  Due to the weathering and then the glacial formation about 2 million years ago, the gold was further dispersed.  When the glaciers melted, starting about 12,000 years ago and continues to accelerate today, streams especially reworked and uncovered the dispersed placer gold, or gold that has been separated from sand or gravel due to erosion and weathering.  The seemingly disconnected presence of gold on the Kenai Peninsula is the underlying impetus for our seed gathering this season.  This is because our seed collection is for a riparian restoration project on US Forest Service land that is within an active mining claim.

Resurrection creek valley.

The site of the mining and restoration project is on Resurrection Creek on the Northern coast of the Kenai Peninsula, just outside of a small town called Hope, AK.  This river runs into the sea at the Turnagain Arm and is critical spawning and rearing habitat for a keystone species of this region: salmon.  Chinook, coho, chum, and pink all used to run this river.  But during the gold rush of the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, miners significantly altered stream channels and wetlands of the creek to the extent that it decimated salmon habitat and populations there.  In the early 2000’s, the first USFS restoration project on this mining claim, referred to as “Phase I” took place.  This portion of the project restored a 1.5 mile stretch of the creek to mimic a more natural flow by digging new stream channels which meander, creating pools and side channels, as well as ponds and wetland areas with the intent to create an environment where salmon can run, rest, and spawn once again.  The results were quite successful and almost immediate.  A year afterward, Chinook salmon numbers increased six-fold, and have only continued to increase. Pink and chum salmon have also returned.  During Phase I of this project, the area was largely allowed to revegetate naturally, alongside some monitoring and minimal necessary treatments towards more aggressive invasive plant species that arose.  Twenty years after the implementation of Phase I, the restoration of the riparian native plant community has been largely successful, alongside the restoration of the salmon.

The project that our seed collection efforts this summer will be contributing to is the second portion of this restoration project along Resurrection Creek, deemed “Phase II.”  This phase is an additional 2.7 miles of stream downstream from Phase I to be restored in a similar manner and for the same purposes.  The only difference this time is that this project must be done by standards set by the Army Corp of Engineers.  Due to these standards, the USFS is required to revegetate the restoration area with a certain percentage of wetlands and needs to achieve 75% vegetative cover in the restoration site within 5 years. Given the barrenness of the site and quality of ground material present there now, this seemed like quite a lofty goal to me.  But with all challenges acknowledged, these are where our efforts come in. 

The worksite is in a beautiful location, surrounded by mountains. The river is spectacular and raging this time of year.
Resurrection Creek, a portion along the Phase II restoration site.
This is what the new stream bed channel looks like before the water is rerouted to flow through it. The day after I took this photo, we came back and there was a raging river flowing here.

The first day I went to the site, I couldn’t believe how devoid of life it felt and looked, nor the enormity of the project.  Although the force and beauty of the river were present and its wildly meandering movement had been restored, the barren, compact gravel substrate covering the river’s banks and flood plains following its reconstruction made my stomach churn.  It was a gray moonscape, without a drop of green.  We walked the site and saw where the future river would flow.  Not only were enormous amounts of earth and rocks being moved and molded, but we walked down the restoration site for maybe about a mile and it seemed to stretch on and on.  It was truly incredible the lengths to which this project is going to restore habitat for salmon, as well as other species.   My advisor, Peter, pointed out areas of vegetation downstream filled with native riparian species, like horsetail, that we could salvage out of the future river’s path to be transplanted in areas where they could continue to thrive if the transplanting worked.  The project was exciting, interesting, and complex, but needless to say, it felt quite daunting.  This was our garden, but instead rich topsoil, we had nutrient poor gravel and instead of well versed cultivars, we had particular, finicky, yet resilient wild seeds and transplants.

Later that week, Peter and I took two trips to Anchorage to pick up over 7,000 native plant starts to be planted at the restoration project this summer.  These were grown from the seeds that Chicago Botanic Garden interns had collected the previous season here in the Chugach.  The transplants were grown by the Soil and Water Conservation Districts centralized in Anchorage.  When we arrived to pick up the plants, it was a circus of volunteers carrying large flats of plants you usually don’t see grown as plugs.  The regular gardener might not have been very impressed as many of the plants weren’t as showy as you usually expect to see grown in a cultivated manner.  But to the seasoned eye, this was something extra special.  Native sedges and grasses that are particular and finicky about their growing conditions and habits were big, bushy, and beautiful.  Carex mertensii, carex aquatalis, carex canascens; flats of sedges that you typically only see growing in the wild, had emerged rapidly after being cold stratified and were anxiously waiting to get to their new home.  The managers and volunteers were very excited about the gift that they had grown as well.  I learned that much of it had been trial and error, as so many of these species had no previous protocol on how to be grown from seed.  It was quite the puzzle loading the plants in the trailer and carting them 2 hours southwest to the restoration site.  But almost all of them made the journey, and there was a SCA (Student Conservation Association) crew there ready to plant and water them over the next couple of months as they get established in their new home along the river at the restoration site.

Around 5,000 native plant transplants loaded in the trailer, ready to take to the restoration site.
Transplants once they arrived at the restoration site, featuring Nootka Lupine.
How we stored the wetland species at the restoration site before they could be planted – they perked right up with their roots in fresh moving water!

Later that week I helped plant these transplants into a makeshift wetland area.  A few weeks previously, thousands of willow stakes had been planted around the terrestrial perimeter of the future wetland.  These stakes were already beginning to bud.  Below the stakes, where slow moving water met muck, we planted several sedges and a forb including carex mertensii (Merten’s Sedge), carex aquatilis (Water Sedge), and Mimulus guttatus (Monkey Flower). I’ve spent seasons working on farms and planting gardens, but I had never planted in the muck before.  Surprisingly, it was incredibly enjoyable and satisfying.  A feeling of gratification swept over me afterwards when I got to see a previously gray and brown mudscape promisingly carrying dapples of bright green life.

Willow mats, planted along a future wetland, beginning to bud.

 It was captivating to think about how the species we just planted on the landscape might exist and maybe even thrive and adapt there for potentially hundreds or thousands of years to come.  It felt strange to play such a powerful role in the future of a landscape like that, though.  We were shaping and cultivating the foundation of an ecosystem.  Something about that felt like we were wielding too much power and control.  But simultaneously, the feeling that came after planting those riparian species caught me off-guard.  Whether that was because my actions were truly beneficial to the ecosystem at large or simply because I perceived them to be, I’m not sure.  But it was surprising that such a seemingly small action could have such a palpable and positive impact on my spirit.  Because of the scale and complexity of environmental and social issues we face in the world today, I am deeply critical about the actual and longterm effects that restoration projects have in an area.  But I must admit that I felt cautiously hopeful after the planting…maybe humans can have a truly beneficial impact on their surroundings, I thought.  Maybe this is an example of it.

One thing I can say for sure is that after planting native sedges and grasses in Resurrection Creek, I suddenly felt an incredibly deep connection with, and a building sense of care for the wellbeing of this place and ecosystem.  I felt ready and inspired to begin getting to know these native plants on a more intimate level, and to start gathering their seeds for the future foundation of this ecosystem.

Wetland area prior to planting.
Native sedges being planted in the future wetland.
The first planted portion of the wetland – note the dapples of green that were previously not present.

Update From the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest

June has been filled with many learning experiences including plant ID, habitat assessments, surveys, and scouting. The first several weeks consisted of a crash course on Habitat Assessment Frameworks (HAFs). These are super interesting because they were originally used for surveying Sage Grouse habitat but have since been adapted to map out native species, invasive species (cheat grass), and sagebrush cover.

Our first pollinator survey, adoringly referred to as a “Bee Blitz”, occurred in the 3rd week of the month as we looked for the elusive B. morrisoni. The pollinator surveys definitely got a bit competitive as people split up to collect a variety of specimens.

Spending time in the Big Hole Battlefield was probably one of my favorite projects that we have worked on so far. Spending time and camping out in an area of historical significance while getting great views and surveying the rare Lemhi Penstemon is definitely a project to remember moving forward with this field season.

The Best Type of Office

After taking this position I knew it would be hard on both my brain and my body. During the weeks leading up to my first day, I was only thinking about learning complex scientific names or the labor of pulling out invasives. I never thought to stop and think about the opportunity I was given, that nature would become my office. The hot sunny days and bug swarms leave me unbothered as I think about my break room being a riverbed, my cubicle a mountaintop, and my commute a forest lined trail. Do not be fooled, everyday is hard work (lots of sweat) but its rewarding and beautiful. I hope I can give some of my favorite spots the justice they deserve so you can enjoy them too!

Slide creek Falls:

Just a short drive in, off of OR-138 you come upon this beautiful horsetail falls. It spills into a small blue pool. The spray gives life to the moss, ferns, and other little flowers you find there. You perch yourself on the ridge as your friends work their way to a log. You break out a snack and sit in silence. Now you’re trying your hardest to take in every moment, to be able to remember every detail, to be able see it even after you leave.

Twin Lakes:

A few miles into the forest you reach a trailhead. It seems particularly normal, so you go down the 1.25 mile trail to the pair of lakes on your map. It only takes a few minutes of climbing before you reach a plateau. You look out to your right and see Mt. Bailey with her snow capped peak off in the distance. You pause, instantly feeling small. You stand there thinking it’s time for a water break, maybe more for the view than the actual need for rest. As you move on you spot a blooming trillium and a little lady bug (you have to take the time to count her spots!!). You realize how big and impactful your presence is. Further down a lean-to hints that you have reached your destination. Soon you see the lake’s crystal clear water. It only takes a few seconds before you spot your first fish. The gentle wind feels cool on your skin and all you can do is be present and smile. 

In just a couple of weeks you have visited numerous awe-inspiring places. As I continue to work and explore this national forest I try to see the beauty around every corner. Time is truly fleeting but my memories of the Umpqua will stay with me forever.

Emma Landenberger

Umpqua National Forest, OR

Pulse of the Prairie

Being at Midewin National Tallgrass Prairie the past month has been a beautiful experience and I’m stoked to continue this journey. Growing up all my life only about 30 minutes north of here I was shocked that I had never heard about this place until just less than a couple of years ago. The prairie is such an intoxicating space of biodiversity and natural ecology running its course. The plethora of colors and smells as you walk through the ever growing tall matrix of forbs and grasses, most of which has been rapidly growing taller and taller within the last few hot summer weeks. 

Sand Ridge on the west side of Midewin.

I am super grateful to have had this opportunity to put work into something truly rewarding for myself, others, and the environment. All across the world we deal with ecosystems struggling for stability due to development and agriculture. More recently within the last year, learning native plants has been an eye-opener. Driving down streets I used to think were beautiful due to the oceans of green around me now I see degradation and a lack of native vegetation, a heavy reminder of how severe this issue really is. Now I see areas that are graveyards of past fauna and flora of this land, truly realizing the scale of degradation of the natural ecosystem of my home state. Nonetheless, there is hope. Parts of Midewin serve as a sanctuary for what Illinois should look like, or will look like, providing habitat for a variety of plants and animals.

Touching the leaf of Silphium terebinthinaceum (Prairie Dock), the leaf feels cold to the touch due to the xylem plant tissue pumping cold water through the leaf, the tap root of this Silphium can grow longer than 14 feet deep!!
Midewin CLM Crew! Grateful to be working with passionate, dedicated, and knowledgeable native seed collectors.
Opuntia cespitosa (Eastern Pricklypear) growing on a area of exposed Dolomite bedrock, this rare unique ecosystem is called the Dolomite Prairie and it is home to some pretty special native plants

Even though most prairies in Illinois deal a lot with invasive species it in turn causes native plants to be precious gemstones of the prairie. We have to be grateful for what we have left and look forward to the future of protecting these plants and natural areas and spreading the scientific ecological message through compassion and understanding. Midewin is unique in the sense of conservation due to most of the project being a complete reconstruction. It is true there are remnant  “ scraps” ( Soil tilled over and moved) that contain a native seed bank. But for the most part Midewin is a restoration project, so most of the native plants there have been seeded in since the late 90s. 

Platanthera leucophaea (Prairie White Fringed Orchid)
Silphium laciniatum (Compass Plant) and Eryngium yuccifolium (Rattlesnake Master)

Midewin was home to pre colonial indigenous tribes, then it was plowed when settlers moved westward. Then in the 1940s the government bought out all the property and made it the Joliet Arsenal which was active up until the end of the Vietnam war. Midewin land has had so many lives run their course in its presence and I think the land carries all of this with it both physically and metaphorically. In Illinois less than 0.01% of the original 21 million acres of prairie remains, less than 2,300 acres. On the bright side, since 1996 Midewin members of the forest service, partner organizations and volunteer groups have been able to restore roughly 6,000 acres of native vegetation, this includes tall grass prairies, sedge meadows, a variety of wetlands, a sand ridge, and oak savannas. It is such a satisfying feeling going into work for the day knowing what you are doing is making a positive impact outside of a profit incentive. I understand that the prairie and wetlands here are not going to look like they did 400 years ago but I think restoration is truly a positive step in the right direction with the right planning and ecological intentions, always asking questions and having awareness of the long term effect of influencing the natural world. 

Dalea purpurea (Purple Prairie Clover) leaves have a very ocean salt like smell to them
Epargyreus clarus (Silver-Spotted Skipper)
Amorpha canescens (Lead Plant)
Desmanthus illinoensis (Illinois Bundleflower/Prairie Mimosa)
Dalea purpurea (Purple Prairie Clover)

Wonder in the Everyday

“The vastness of the grasslands inspires the openness of spirit”…

This seductive, ecophilic line echoes through my mind every time I lift my head from my work. Laying on my tummy, eyes immersed in the damp understory of the prairie, the sudden panorama of the grasslands stretching for miles around me keeps catching me off guard. At the horizon, Paha Sapa (the Black Hills) border our Hay Canyon research site, and the sedimentary formations of Mako Sica (the Badlands) border Cedar Pass. The effect of this setting on the nervous system is immense- I remember to breathe, I’m filled with gratitude, I feel myself smile. My coworkers and I echo to one another, “it is so beautiful here….”

Paha Sapa (the Black Hills) border the horizon of the Hay Canyon research site in Buffalo Gap National Grasslands. The mixed-short-grass prairie is dominated by yellow sweet clover (Melilotus officinalis).

I’ve thought a lot about the experience of wonder in everyday life while working here. Wonder in the everyday has been a growing theme for me over the last five years exploring the shores of Gitchi Gami (Lake Superior), and now living in Paha Sapa. Growing up, before I realized I could make a career in the outdoors, such experiences of wonder were novel. Visiting Paha Sapa and Mako Sica as a pre-teen with my family came in the form of a packaged vacation experience, complete with Mt. Rushmore and Devil’s Tower voyeurism and starkly colonial narratives. These trips of course contained stunning views and showcased feats of human and nature’s ingenuity, but always ended with a return to the ugly, concrete smothered suburbs of home, and the immersive wonders of nature would soon fall from my mind.

This last week, working solo in the field for 7 hours a day snipping and sorting grass culms, I listened to the audiobook of “The Body Keeps the Score” by B. van der Kolk, M.D. This book is about how trauma shapes our brains and bodies. Van der Kolk explains the disassociation that defines trauma; how our brain’s alarm systems become overwhelmed by incomprehensible stress, beyond our range of biological tolerance, resulting in permanent changes to our physiological functions. The experience of wonder is fascinating to compare- Similarly to trauma, wonder occurs when our experience is beyond what our brains can tolerate and what our minds have frameworks for. Both trauma and wonder occur as an involuntary surrender to incomprehensible experience. Neuroscience explains how both states stimulate the vagus nerve and the same areas of the brain, but in different ways; the effects on the body and spirit seem to be opposite.

Trauma creates a constant sense of danger and helplessness, trapping us in an over-active self-preservation mode that weakens our immune systems and internal functioning. It transforms our worlds into small, self-centered ones where we are in opposition to all. Wonder also transforms the way we see ourselves, making us small, but this occurs in a quiet, humble way. We feel small because the world around us is so grand, mysterious, and deliciously incomprehensible. We are struck by the sense that we are a tiny yet integral part of a greater whole. This connection to the Other and the All fosters peace within our minds and bodies, makes connection to others not only possible, but a driving and undeniable force of life. I see myself reflected in each flower, insect, lichen, cloud, and breeze.

Working outdoors and in ecological fields gifts me with wonder daily, though this is something I’ve had to work hard to access. Studies show that one of the prime ways humans experience wonder is in the moral beauty of others. Growing up, the philosophy of life on earth was presented to me in a “man vs. nature” way, the moral ugliness of which fostered misanthropy. I saw all the ways we interacted with nature as destructive and extractive, as if our role on this planet was antagonistic and hopeless. But education and commitment to ecological study requires in-depth understandings of land-management policy and guiding moral philosophies across time and different cultures. It reveals the multitudes of ways humans have co-existed with and stewarded this planet and our fundamental connection and roles in our home ecosystems.

We work with two Doctors of plant science. I collect such mentors gratefully, learning about how to exist sustainably in this work and taking note of the inspirations and drive of different personalities committed to land stewardship. The quiet confidence and gratitude in one another’s work is reassuring. Working along these professionals is an important reminder that as individuals and as a species, humans have always found life-sustaining meaning and relation to the plants around us. We are no less dependent on them physically and spiritually today than our ancestors were. The moral beauty of these understandings, guided largely by Indigenous wisdom, yet present in all humans, guides my daily experience and often leaves me at a loss for words- pure awe in the wonder of it all.