Berry Pickin’

Posted on 30 September, 2024 by Ash Terry

Summer in the Pacific Northwest means berry season. While some, like the red baneberry, are highly poisonous, a lot of them are edible and quite tasty, making seed collection go by a lot faster. Whenever I get a little hungry, I just “test” one of the seeds for ripeness by assessing the flavor. In my free time, I return to populations too small for collection, but just big enough for personal use. I take the blueberries and bake a scrumptious, yet tart, blueberry pie, and the huckleberries are perfect for muffin making.

*Vaccinium membranaceum* (Thinleaf huckleberry!)

*Vaccinium membranaceum* *muffinaceum* ft. *Katius Skelteum*

I’ve never felt this provided for in an ecosystem before. While I’m sure my beautiful southeastern home has ample vegetation to meet my needs, I was never taught anything about that. Most of my background is in agriculture. Working on farms and in fields, you develop a certain relationship with the land. It’s almost a parental role. You give the crops what they need – water, sun, nutrients – and watch as they take the provisions to grow and mature. You love your crops (except for maybe that tricky relationship with the bad seed who got influenced by the wrong crowd (aphids)), and you feel a sense of pride because you shaped them. You take their fruits, but those fruits are partially a product of your labor.

With seed collection though, I’ve developed a whole new relationship with the plants. There is no sense of pride with seed collection. I contribute nothing to the success of the plants. I play no role in their growth. I don’t give, I only take.

The roles are reversed – now the plants are taking care of me. I didn’t have to earn it, I just had to appreciate it. The term mother nature takes on a whole new meaning. While I’m well aware that every material thing I own comes from nature, I’m so separated from the raw materials that it’s hard to appreciate. But, when I pick the berries off the branch and pop them in my mouth, I know exactly who to thank. The book I’ve been reading, Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, has been teaching me to express gratitude to every part of nature. The berries that I collect are pure gifts. I’ve been trying to keep in mind the lessons from this book as I collect my seeds. Kimmerer talks of how she always leaves an offering for plants and thanks them when she collects from them. My inner treehugger comes out, but it feels joyous to thank the plants for their gifts. Even when I bake with my personal collection, I feel more inclined to take my time because I know that I’m using gifts, and there’s nothing more hurtful than wasting a well-thought out present. During work hours it feels even better to know that I’m using these gifts to help the plants back. The seeds that we collect will primarily be used for meadow and fire restoration, so everything I take goes right back to earth – a neverending cycle of gratitude and giving.

P.S. My two fellow interns and I have been working on an album to put into song what is so hard to convey with typical prose. Below is an attempt to explain how I feel when I’m picking berries.

Berries in the bag

Well I was drivin my load down that gravel road
Yung Gravy blastin through my speakers
Windows down, sunglasses up, 
Sending a thanks to my good lord Caesar
Passin bracken ferns and heck maybe even cedars (I dont know my trees)

I’m cruisin right along, apartment K on my mind
When I hear a ‘stop’ yelp out the back
I get out the truck (there’s nothing here, wait what?)
As I grab my pack, I see em

Berries to my left. 
Berries to my right.
Berries up and down. 
Berries everywhere in sight.
I grab a ziploc, grab my walky talk
And I start grabbin those 
Berries off the branch.
Berries in my hand.
Berries in the sky
Berries in my eye
But first..
Berries in the bag. (Yee haw)
Berries in the bag 

Sittin in these bushes, got dirt for a cushion
Hands stained purple from the fruit of my labor
Bees swarm, birdies dive
Everyone wants a taste of my berries to savor
Karma blessin’ for my good behavior

My stomach gives a rumble, gives a grumble
She don’t like seein’ what she can’t have
I decide to brave it through, clench those ab muscles (shoutout Shaun T)
But that’s when I realize I got

Berries to my left. 
Berries to my right.
Berries up and down. 
Berries everywhere in sight.
I grab a ziploc, grab my walky talk
And I start grabbin those 
Berries off the branch.
Berries in my hand.
Berries in the sky
Berries in my eye
But first..
Berries in the tummy. (Yee haw)
Berries in the tummy

Huckleberries. Thimbleberries. Blueberries. Snowberries.
I’ll take em all, take em anyway
Blackberries. Black cap raspberries. Elderberries. Red baneberries.
Bake them berries in a pie. Berries in the sky
Berries on my tongue. Berries when I’m on the run.
Keep me fed. Keep me full. Got my girl nourished too
Berries...
I love youuuuu!

Berries to my left. 
Berries to my right.
Berries up and down. 
Berries everywhere in sight.
I grab a ziploc, grab my walky talk
And I start grabbin those 
Berries off the branch.
Berries in my hand.
Berries in the sky
Berries your the love of my life
But first...
Berries in the bag. (Yee haw)
Berries in the bag 
Berriieess
Beriieees
Berries get in my bag!!!

Cup Lake Draba

Posted on 30 September, 2024 by Dean Lyons

This month brought a fun change to the seed collecting routine. We were sent out on a three day backpacking mission to check in on a rare endemic, the Cup Lake Draba!

Draba asterophora var. macrocarpa only grows between two small, granite-lined lakes in the Desolation Wilderness. The terrain is rugged and difficult to access. Whitebark pine and gnarled hemlocks hug windswept ridges and a diversity of alpine flowers cling to granite cracks. On the north facing aspect of this ridgeline is where the Cup Lake Draba makes its living.

We began our trip by stuffing as much gear as we could fit into our packs. Tents, sleeping bags and pads, food and stoves, as well as many non essentials such as cameras, moth lights, binoculars, bug nets and UV flashlights. We’re a group of nerds, what can we say!

With our absurdly heavy loads, we began up the 2,500 ft climb; taking it slow and observing the wildlife and plants along the way. As we reached the summit and entered the whitebark pine zone, we were greeted by an exploratory pika, great views of Lake Tahoe, and a very surprised family of sooty grouse.

Cup lake is a tiny body of water situated in a deep granite bowl. The water is cold, and there are several alpine plants who live along its edges. Before setting up camp, we hiked down to the lake and did a preliminary search for the Draba. It was easy to locate the historical polygons, but sadly there were no flowers present.

The next day we split off into two groups. Beth and Allie stayed to remap and survey the main lakeside population, while Tori and I hiked along the ridge to map out a series of populations that hadn’t been visited since the early 2000s.

As we moved along the ridge we began to get a feel for the Draba’s habitat preference. We only encountered it on the north side in slightly sheltered areas. It seemed to thrive in decomposed granite surrounded by bigger boulders and protected from the elements. We were excited to find thousands of plants thriving in these unforgiving conditions. We even found a handful in full flower! If conditions allow, we will be revisiting these populations to make conservation seed collections from this rare plant.

Overall, the trip was a great success! We have another backpacking trip to the wilderness coming up to survey for whitebark pine, and I’m excited to get back out there. The season of flowers is coming to a close, and it’s nice to get up high and catch the alpine ones before fall comes.

Gastroboletus turbinatus var. flammeus, a rare mushroom

Earth

Posted on 30 September, 2024 by Levi Showalter

Georges Seurat filled a canvas with many thousands of pointillistic dots to paint the Isle of La Grande Jatte; in the same way, many thousands of isles dot the Alaskan coastline to paint the landscape of the Alexander Archipelago. These islands – some thousands of square miles, others just barely breaking the surface at low tide – are in fact the many peaks of an underwater mountain range. Further south, they march out of the sea to form the Cascades. As glaciers retreated from here thousands of years ago, they carved the tangled fractal of fjords and channels that fill the valleys between those mountains. The soil on the hills above has had only a minute to form, in geologic time, and the cool weather further slows its formation. Little more than a few inches of gray-black muck support the conifers here, and it regularly slumps into liquefied landslides.

At first, it would seem that Prince of Wales Island would be a bit dull for a soil scientist. There are no farms here, as one might expect, so there is not much of a market for soil testing – in fact, much of the area remains unmapped in the NRCS’s soil surveys of America…in reality, the opposite is the case. Soil scientists (and their more charismatic cousins, geologists) have no shortage of curiosities awaiting them on the Tongass.

The northern half of Prince of Wales is built upon a honeycomb of karst – limestone that has been fluted by the slow drip-drip-drip of underground seeps and springs. More than 600 caves have been found on the island, with many more surely lurking deep in the forest. We toured El Capitan, the largest cave in Alaska, and even in an hour saw only the entrance. Far beyond the end of our adventure lay titanic, cave rooms hundreds of feet in every dimension – an underground cathedral in a perpetually echoic Midnight Mass, sine lux aeterna.

A few hundred feet from the cave’s mouth, we performed our most unusual (and my favorite) seed collection of the year thus far. Hordeum brachyantherum, meadow barley, grows like rice in tidal flats, flooding and drying twice a day. Emma and I scurried around a patch of it – as fast as one can scurry in rain boots, sinking into 15 inches of mud and water – collecting as much as possible before the rising tide swallowed the shore again. The rippling waves of grass and seawater under a rare cloudless sky easily made for one of my favorite sights this summer.

Elsewhere on our island, the ground sinks into bottomless pits of peat moss in muskegs. These bizarre bogs are a soil scientist’s dream and nightmare simultaneously: they consist of several spongy feet of waterlogged moss and nothing else. Muskegs are the closest thing to Indiana Jones-style quicksand pits one is likely to ever encounter in real life – one wrong step could mean disappearing into a ten-foot well of slime. (The “bog mummies” of Ireland and the Andes formed in exactly this manner; the anaerobic environment slows decay almost to a standstill.) As unearthly as these are, however, they support a fascinating diversity of plants found in few other places. Bog cranberries, cottongrass and water sedge are three muskeg-loving plants we have collected thus far. And how could I forget the day that I hiked 8 miles in driving rain to one such muskeg to pick cloudberries! These petite orange raspberries, Rubus chamaemorus, are tremendously frustrating to cultivate (I have tried) and equally laborious to pick, but absolutely worth the effort. They taste a bit like a mix between apple pie and peach yogurt. If you ever have the opportunity, I highly recommend going to the trouble of picking them.

I am always in awe of how the forces of nature are laid bare in Alaska to create a wild landscape like nowhere else. Much like the other features of the Tongass that I have written about already, Alaska’s geology has a colorful and vibrant story to tell. It dots the Pacific coast with a dizzying array of jungle islands, and produces an abundant scattering of minerals – salt, marble, uranium, and gold – that have been integral to the island’s history and environment. It is strange to think that I will only be in the Last Frontier for just over a month yet, and I have so much of this island to still explore. No doubt, it will be full of many more adventures and things to learn.

The Weather in Montana Can’t Make up its Mind!

Posted on 29 September, 2024 by Sky Milstein

I knew the weather in Montana would be different than what I am used to, but I didn’t realize quite how unpredictable it is. In New England we like to say “If you don’t like the weather wait a few minutes” but here that is even more true. In the past month it has hailed, poured rain, thunder-stormed, been humid, been dry, been hot, been cold, and even snowed a little.

I check the weather every day yet I still never feel quite prepared for what the Montana weather will decide to do. We always joke that if more than half the cows are laying down that means it will rain. Although this is not a fool proof method of predicting weather I often find looking to the cows to be more accurate than whatever my weather app says. I also don’t think I’ll ever get used to how much the temperature changes when we drive down the mountain. There is often a 10 degree difference between where I live and the nearest city, Great Falls.

Me with a cow skull I found while collecting seed.

Another thing about the weather here that I am still getting used to is the wind. The wind is louder and stronger than anything I am used to. Not too long ago we were camping in an area we wanted to collect seed in. During the night the wind was so loud I thought a bear was trying to break into my tent! We could hear the wind building up before it hit our campsite and it made my tent shake. I think none of us slept very well that night between the loudness and the fear of falling trees. Luckily no trees fell in our campsite.

Despite unpredictable, and sometimes scary weather I have really been enjoying my time here. I was lucky enough to see a moose which was a bucket list item for me (I almost cried). I am continuing to learn so much and I am so grateful for the community in the region of my forest, they even make our safety meetings fun. I feel homesick sometimes, but I also know that I will be so sad to leave when my season is over.

Sowing Seeds in September

Posted on 28 September, 2024 by Maggie Torness

After this last month, I’m feeling like a lucky human. It’s one thing to know and recognize a plant during the peak of its life cycle, its blooming state. I liken knowing a plant at this level to a surface level relationship – simple, somewhat predictable, and perpetually showing the most beautiful side of oneself. But these types of relationships often lack depth, complexity, and greater meaning. When you start to recognize and become familiar with a plant after the height of its season, a certain depth of connection comes into being. While some plants carry subtle hints of their flowering stage into their seed stage, they can be quite unrecognizable at first. Like watching a child grow over the years, there’s a stark and raw beauty that arises when you get to know a plant over the various stages of its life cycle. Even when it’s not at the peak of its life and even when it’s in its dried, brown, and withering states.

A beautiful dried fruit and seed from a plant we did not collect from but is prevalent across the landscape.

Good ol’ *Calamagrostis canadensis*, a workhorse native grass; very prevalent across the landscape and an essential plant in the restoration project.

Gathering the seeds of various plants this season has allowed me to observe them in all of these stages, focusing especially on their later stages. I’ve seen them go from small buds to old dried withered plants in but a few weeks. The blessed cycle of life, from birth to death and rebirth again, happens quickly here. And it’s especially pronounced when your job is to pluck the ripe and ready seed from the withered hands of a dying plant. I enjoy identifying, observing, and working with plants in this latter stage of their life. I think they’re incredibly beautiful in this stage of their life, and I realize how rare it is to interact with them intimately during this season – especially the wild ones. Additionally, observing plants during this stage in their life cycle has made me feel even more in awe of their existence – both native plants in general and, more specifically, their seed development processes. The fact that the seeds from this region of Alaska have the ability to mature at this time of year and then lay dormant through the long, harsh winter astounds me. Especially since, when you cut them open, they aren’t completely dry. They have to maintain some moisture. To go through such harsh conditions as a small living organism is simply amazing.

Cut test of *Artemisia arctica*. Note the purple hue present inside some of them.

And it’s not even as linear and straightforward as that. The other morning, we had our first frost. When we went out to gather the seed off of one of our beloved sedges, Carex canescens, the dew had frozen, with tiny icicles clinging to the vegetation. Later that day, it was surprisingly clear, and the sun warmed up everything enough to give me a sun burn. This begs the question: at what point should we stop gathering seed? Since we were inevitably going to warm up the seeds again and they would thaw, at what point does the frost/thaw oscillation begin to wake up a dormant seedling? We decided it was probably still fine to harvest the seeds since, in nature, they would have frozen and thawed anyway. But it got my mind racing with questions about the lives of seeds: how they know when to wake up and how long they can live in the seed state or seed bank before they lose their viability. And this isn’t to mention the grass seeds of this region, most of which have not fully developed yet although it’s almost October! We even saw a grass still flowering last week. What a wild world these plants create for themselves. They truly become more astounding the closer you look and the longer you notice them!

Seeds: harvested, dried, cut, processed, and bagged.

Focusing on and appreciating these lesser known aspects of plants deepens my connection to them and to the greater environment, allowing me to understand the subtle details and differences in their relationship to the whole ecosystem. Sometimes I wonder how many people have formed a close enough relationship with the star gentian (Swertia perennis) to notice how it likes to grow around the edges of the muskegs in south central Alaska and can recognize, just by looking at it, when its seeds are mature. I wonder how many have monitored the transition of the coloring of the megagametophyte of the marsh cinquefoil (Comarum palustre), which blooms curious red flowers in the standing water of marshes in these northern, harsh environments. Who has studied the seeds of Cottongrass (Eriophorum angustufolium) under a microscope and ogled over their sparkly brass seed coat? I wonder how many have had the opportunity to get to know some of these native plants on this level and to this degree. It sure comes with some weird niche knowledge, but being a plant nerd, I take pride in it and am sure it will come in handy at some point down the road. I feel very lucky to have been able to form a relationship with these plants in this way.

Seeds we processed brought to the restoration site for a direct autumn sow.

At this point, the next stage in restoration process has already begun, and it is exciting to pass it off. We’ve connected with the folks who are growing the native plant starts for next season and have delivered a portion of the seed that they will receive from us. They’ve also begun sowing the seed for next season! Additionally, we visited the restoration site and did some direct sowing of some of our seed collections including, Calamagrostis canadensis, Heracleum maximum, and Angelica lucida. Harvesting, drying, and bagging the seeds brought out a level of satisfaction, but getting them to this stage took many hours of work and was at least a several-weeks-long process for each species. However, seeing the seeds returned to the ground – especially to their final resting place and future site of evolution – was both settling and satisfying for the spirit. I wished them well on their way as I tossed seeds into the black, barren dirt beside Resurrection Creek at the restoration site. “Grow well and help heal this land!” I whispered as they danced their way back into the soil, settling in for winter and, hopefully, reawakening come spring. They’ve had quite the interesting and rare journey over the past few weeks and definitely deserved their time to rest in the wild habitats they’re most accustomed to.

Sowing *Angelica lucida* into the restoration site along Resurrection Creek

Bread and Jelly!

Posted on 28 September, 2024 by Beth Haney

We started this month off strong with a sourdough bread making day! My team is very passionate about sourdough bread, and we take our starters seriously.

We then went to go look for Draba asterophora var. macrocarpa at Cup Lake in Desolation Wilderness. This was my first ever backpacking trip, and it was incredible! Shout out to dean for carrying all of my food! We had a gnarly hike up to Ralston Peak, and then we walked the ridgeline to Cup Lake. This experience was absolutely amazing! We found so much Draba, but they had already dispersed their seeds :(. Backpacking is absolutely incredible, and something that I look forward to doing a lot more in my future!

I went and visited my partner up in Chester, California. We were hoping Lassen National Volcanic Park would open back up (from the Park Fire), and we got so lucky that it did!! I got to see so much of the park when it had a fresh dusting of snow, and there were minimal other people there so it felt like we had the park to ourselves. I also visited Subway Cave, which was a very surreal and neat experience!

We’ve seen so many Sierra Tree Frogs recently too! Frog appreciation section.

I also foraged for elderberries on the forest and made some yummy jelly! I was inspired by my times that my aunt Jen and I would make grape jelly when I was young!

We finished off this month with ton of seed collecting of our native species here in the Eldorado.

I look forward to what September holds!

Plants of Concern on the Prairie

Posted on 27 September, 2024 by Vlad Nevirkovets

Over the course of the internship at Midewin, we have worked with Plants of Concern (POC), a rare plant monitoring program based in the Chicago Botanic Garden, which monitors populations of rare and state listed plants at Midewin. We also worked with the US Fish and Wildlife to monitor federally endangered Dalea foliosa (leafy prairie clover). The Plants of Concern protocol revolves around “subpopulations,” which are defined as having a distance of at least 50 meters between the nearest plants. Separate EO’s (element occurrences) are considered separate populations; many EO’s have more than one subpopulation. Level one protocol is focused on assessing the extent and abundance of plants in a subpopulation, and it is done for all subpopulations monitored by POC. Level two protocol provides information on demographics by looking at a small area and seeing how many fruits and seedlings plants are produced. Information is also recorded on threats to the population, including invasive species (both herbaceous and woody plants) and other impacts such as deer browse and trampling.

*Dalea foliosa* (leafy prairie clover), a federally endangered species found in dolomite prairies.

We monitored 3 subpopulations of Silene regia (royal catchfly), 2 subpopulations of Malvastrum hispidum (hispid false mallow), a subpopulation of Trifolium reflexum (buffalo clover), 4 subpopulations of Agalinis auriculata (eared false foxglove), and a subpopulation of Sanguisorba canadensis (Canadian burnet) with POC, as well as one subpopulation of Dalea foliosa with USFWS and another subpopulation with Midewin staff. Interestingly, species can behave quite differently in restorations as compared to wild populations. For example, Silene regia was very rare in the wild and was extirpated from the Chicago Region according to the Flora of the Chicago Region, whose authors assigned this species a C value of 10. So, the population we monitored was re-introduced, not wild. However, it has been highly successful in restoration, being present in most of the restorations at Midewin (coming up from seed), and the population we monitored has over 1000 individuals. Interestingly, in some of the places where it grows, it seems to prefer more disturbed areas over higher quality ones. In one restoration, it was growing happily in the weedy roadside border with Bromus inermis and Pastinaca sativa but avoiding the adjacent restoration with diverse native vegetation such as Dalea purpurea, Baptisia alba, Eryngium yuccifolium, Sorghastrum nutans, Parthenium integrifolium, Silphium laciniatum, and Silphium terebinthinaceum. Given that the core of this species’ range is in the Ozarks of Missouri, I wonder whether Silene regia was simply dispersal-limited. Now that it has human assistance through widespread seeding in many restorations and even ornamental plantings (due to its showy flowers), it may be more widespread in the region than it ever was to begin with.

*Malvastrum hispidum* (hispid false mallow), a dolomite specialist.

Thankfully, Agalinis auriculata also seems to be doing quite well from seeding in restorations as it was present in at least two sites outside of the original two remnant sites at Midewin. The restored populations may now even outnumber the remnants. It would be interesting to monitor these restored populations and verify whether this is true. I believe that this shows that many plants are only rare because of lack of habitat, and that re-creating the habitat where it had been erased previously, and re-introducing these species, can be a resounding success.

*Agalinis auriculata* (ear-leaved false foxglove).

Plant roots have crawled into my brain and are now forcing me to do their bidding

Posted on 27 September, 2024 by Sam Vasen

August felt like it flew by. A month characterized by surprisingly good weather, fun weekend trips, and simply being in a grove with seed collection. It’s been nice to be so busy, at a minimum we’ve been collecting from one population everyday, some days from three or four. The office is filling up with brown paper bags of seeds and we are quickly running out of space. Because it is so dry here, we don’t really have to worry about the seeds getting moldy, however we still air them out and check them every once in a while. The main issue is the pests that persist in the bags after we bring them back. Lots of grubs, ants, stinkbugs, cute jumping spiders and sometimes less friendly critters :/. Yesterday, loud crawling noises were heard inside a Veratrum californicum bag that was collected a week ago. I brought the bag outside, opened it up, and out flew a large and angry hornet. Luckily it didn’t sting but still not a welcome sight. In the field we try to leave the bags open to allow bugs to escape but some seem to like the dark, cool bottoms of the seed piles. I read another blog post on here that mentioned the use of fumigation strips to deal with pests which seems like a great idea. I want to see what I can do about working that into our protocol here, thanks fellow CLM interns!

Our office slowing being taken oven my a mountain of seeds

In addition to more seed collection, we’ve also started the mounting process for the vouchers we’ve been taking throughout the season. Its been an extremely satisfying process and they are coming out surprisingly well! The pressing process has inspired me to start collecting small specimens for myself. I’ve made a couple little mounted cards and hope to build a collection out of my car! It feels like an appropriate keepsake for my time in Plumas and I imagine they would make nice gifts. As I’ve started doing this in my free time, I began to realize how much this job has altered my perception of and relationship to the plants around me.

A couple presses I made for a personal collection: *Arnica dealbata* (Left), *Spiraea douglasii* (Right)

I’ve always appreciated plants but over the last couple months my fondness for them as certainly deepened. Going into this position I would have described myself as generally a wildlife, specifically bird, centric-person with a general and certainly not professional interest in flora. I think this was mostly due to lack of experience with plant-based projects and a very surface level technical knowledge. But by learning basic plant families, dichotomous key ID skills, more plant physiology, and restoration concepts, I’ve found myself thinking about plant life much more while exploring the world around me. This month, I went on three weekend trips to various beautiful areas around the Sierras. While hiking through the Eastern Sierras or climbing in Yosemite, I kept stopping to photograph, identify, and/or take little samples of any interesting vegetation I saw. In Yosemite, I met another seed collector who works there and she gave me some great tips about cleaning Asclepias seeds. According to her, if you close and shake the bag they are in, the heavy seeds should detach from the fluff and fall to the bottom. Wouldn’t have thought to try that and it probably saved us many hours of cleaning by hand!

Baby Bristlecone Pine in the Eastern Sierras

It’s coming to that point where its time to start looking for jobs for the winter season. The end of our time here in Plumas is coming quicker than I thought. While on the job hunt, I’ve found myself leaning towards more botany positions. That’s kinda how I know that the plants have a good degree of control over me. I could see myself being happy toiling away to carry out their agenda through more seed collection, propagation, restoration and invasive control. This job has helped me give myself over to the plants!

Slowin’ Down in September

Posted on 26 September, 2024 by Beth Haney

I started off this month by visiting my family in Boise, which was much needed! I saw Hozier as well as got to spend a lot of quality time with my family.

Field work has started to slow down, and Dean and I drove around to some of our seed sites and collected from the late season seeders (Eriogonum nudum, Epilobium canum, and Ericameria bloomeri). We got of ton of seeds from all of our populations and are super excited to get them all packaged up to send to the Bend Seed Extractory!

I’ve really been enjoying California; this state is so diverse, it’s amazing! I went with the north zone botanists, Iris and Chelsea, to Monterey for the weekend to explore the area and see the aquarium, which was fantastic!

Then, back to Pollock Pines! We are cleaning up our data as well as packaging seeds for shipment. We are still collecting seeds when we can, but most of our plants are wrapping up their seeding for the 2024 season. Iris and I also went to see Kacey Musgraves!!

Time has flown by! Onto the last month of my internship!

Lose a fish, go to jail

Posted on 26 September, 2024 by Eliza Seigel

What. A. Month. I truly can’t believe August is ending – we have accomplished so much since July, and it’s hard to fathom that my time here is more than halfway over.

As far as plants go, we’ve been doing a lot of monitoring. Our projects are testing if our seed mixes (which are being used to revegetate old timber roads and make pollinator islands out of disturbed sites) are effective. We’ve also ramped up our seed collection quite a bit.

Cicely, my co-intern, scouting a potential seed collection site

It’s been fun learning more about restoration processes and how the seed mixes were developed. Laura even showed us a cool paper about different monitoring methods (LPI vs. ocular quadrat, for all you cool kids) in riparian areas. However, we’ve also gotten lots of opportunities to cross-train with other departments, which has been incredible. So far, the Botshots have:

Waded in the Bitterroot River with Wildlife, monitoring for Harlequin ducks and taking environmental DNA samples to detect their presence
Gone out with the “Archies” to map historic peeled trees – also known as culturally modified trees – that the Nimiipuu people used to eat from in the springtime
Electroshock fished with Hydrology
- which was very fun. We caught a Bull trout (which is threatened, so we were excited to see it) but the second we put it into the monitoring bucket, it tried to eat a smaller Cutthroat. Circle of life.
- We also had a great time slipping around on the rocks trying to net the speedy little guys, hence the amazing quote of the day:

“Lose a fish, go to jail.”
-Doug

A size comparison of the peel length for the archaeologists

Some other, non-work-related highlights from this month include:

Swimming in some hot springs in Idaho
Watching the Darby Rodeo
Going to Glacier National Park with Cicely and Li when all of the wildflowers were in bloom
A very dear friend coming to visit for a weekend

Flowers at Glacier, photo credits to Cicely

It’s been super busy, but in the best way possible. My brain and my heart feel very full.

See you soon,

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Monthly Archives: September 2024