Shaping a River: the Hungry Horse Dam

Posted on 22 October, 2024 by Grace Davenport

On a cool September day, my co-intern and I drove the fifty miles on a dirt road to the Spotted Bear Ranger Station. The road follows the winding, rugged shoreline of the Hungry Horse Reservoir. Pulling into the station’s office, we noticed a fringe of orange flames burning lazily up the mountain. We wondered if we would still be able to stay at the bunkhouse that night. We soon learned that a prescribed burn was taking place, carefully planned around the several inches of rain predicted that night and the next day. The morning proved the weather forecast correct. A mist hung about the road as we drove past the ranger station the next morning on our way to Meadow Creek Gorge. The gorge is reminiscent of what the Hungry Horse landscape may have looked like before the reservoir, before the inundation of the long, steep valley carved by the South Fork of the Flathead River.

The swimming hole at Spotted Bear Ranger Station

Smoke and mist settling in the Meadow Creek Gorge

At Meadow Creek Trailhead, we spoke with a few visitors who had turned southeast, away from the gates of Glacier National Park, and towards the remote Bob Marshall Wilderness. One of the visitors, a fisherman, mentioned the beneficial impact of the Hungry Horse Dam in preventing nonnative fish from swimming upstream and degrading habitat for native cutthroat and bull trout. This comment, said in passing, catalyzed a world of exploration for me as I delved into the dam’s history and ecological impact.

View of the reservoir at the top of the Hungry Horse Dam

On our next trip down to Spotted Bear, we stopped at the dam’s visitor center, perched halfway up the steep mountainside, along the road that runs overtop the dam. A sign in the art deco style of “The Big Dam Era” — in its heyday from the 1930s to 1960s (Lee 2023) — announces the dam. Finished in November 1953, the Hungry Horse Dam was a crowning achievement of the era. Standing at 564 feet, it was the second tallest dam in the world at the time of its completion (McKay 1994). Black and white photographs in the visitor center document the larger-than-life engineering feat of the dam’s construction. Tiny figures of men stand in miniature within the 12-foot diameter spillway tunnel. Yet these men moved mountains, blasting a tunnel through the adjoining rock wall to divert the river during dam construction.

Man inside the giant spillway tunnel; photo from the Hungry Horse Visitor Center

The diversion tunnel the river flowed through while the dam was being built; photo from the Hungry Horse Visitor Center

The little town of Hungry Horse, still standing today, sprung up to support the laborers. The town and dam are named after an incident in the winter of 1900. Two men hauling equipment over the South Fork of the Flathead River noticed, after the river crossing, that two of their horses, Jerry and Tex, were missing. A month later the horses were found “belly deep in snow and nothing but skin and bones” (Stene 1995). The horses were nursed back to strength and lived out their days in nearby Kalispell, but the area bears witness to their hungriest hour. A large steel ball, painted a garish silver, stands as a mysterious testament to the town’s origin. The dam building started not with pouring the dam’s concrete but with clearing trees from the flow area to limit debris in the reservoir. (Grant 2018). Several logging companies took up the herculean task of clearing the 37 square miles of land in the reservoir’s path (McKay 1994). The large steel ball standing in Hungry Horse today was used in the “highball” clearing method that could clear 200 acres in 4 hours (McKay 1994; Grant 2018). The ball, 8 feet in diameter and 8,000 pounds in heft, was not a wrecking ball but rather a weight (Shaw 1967). A long cable, secured between two bulldozers and held fast at the center by the heavy ball, was used to drag down and uproot trees. Using this unusual method along with more conventional methods, loggers harvested 90 million board feet of timber from the area in just a few years (Grant 2018).

8,000-pound steel ball used in the “highball” clearing method

Once completed in 1953, the dam backed up the South Fork of the Flathead River for 34 miles and flooded about 22,500 acres of land (McKay 1994). Today, the dam still fulfills its original purpose, generating electricity, regulating water flow for flood mitigation, and acting as water storage for downstream dams in the greater Columbia River Basin system. The Hungry Horse reservoir is one of two other headwater reservoirs for the Columbia River Basin, the other being the Koocanusa Reservoir in the adjacent Kootenai National Forest. Together, these two reservoirs provide approximately 40% of the usable water storage in the U.S. portion of the Columbia Basin (Muhlfeld, 2012). The Hungry Horse dam impacts both local and regional ecosystems, since water from the reservoir travels more than 1,100 miles from Montana’s mountains to the Pacific Ocean. Some of those impacts are obvious, like the creation of a lake from a river. Other impacts are less so.

This sign outside the visitor center shows just a few of the almost 60 dams in the Columbia River watershed

The dam’s four penstocks (gates that direct water to the turbines) are located 241 feet below the reservoir level. Water at that depth maintains a year-round temperature of about 38F, which is quite a bit colder than summer surface temperatures of up to 68F (Christenson et al., 1996). Biologists speculated that the dam’s cold-water discharge would modify the downstream river ecology (Christenson et al., 1996). By the 1980s, biologists with Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks were recording falling native trout populations, stunted trout growth rates, and changes in the trout’s prey, macroinvertebrates. They also found unusually large numbers of cold-water lake trout in the Flathead river’s main stem. The cold water offered an ideal habitat for the voracious lake trout which fed with abandon on juvenile cutthroat and bull trout (Cristenson et al.,1996). The food web was changing. To combat these effects, the discharged water needed temperature control (Standford et al., 1992). A “Selective Withdrawal System” was installed in August 1996. The system placed 100-foot-long selective depth outlet structures over the penstocks. Warm surface water could be skimmed off the top of the reservoir and mixed with cooler water anywhere from 30 to 200 feet below the water’s surface. Electronic temperature sensors ran the length of the structures and informed which outlets to open and close to produce the required water temperatures. The system is still in use and begins operations each year in June after spring runoff flows reduce and continues until October. The release of warmer water during the biologically productive summer months has eliminated the artificial cooling of the river and returned it to its pre-dam annual temperature cycle (State of Montana, 2014).

Selective Withdrawal System information board at the Hungry Horse Dam Visitor Center

In the almost 30 years since its installment, the selective withdrawal system has measurably affected the surrounding ecosystem. Eliminating cold discharges during summer appears to have restricted the movement of non-native lake trout upstream from Flathead Lake (Muhlfeld et al., 2012). Studies on macroinvertebrate populations are mostly inconclusive though there are some signs of slightly improved benthic macroinvertebrate assemblages in the South Fork River, downstream of the dam (Richards, 2010). The selective withdrawal system allows some aspects of the downstream river to return to pre-dam conditions, but other aspects cannot be so easily turned back. Flow regulation for flood control and power generation has resulted in an inversion of the natural hydrograph; water storage during spring keeps run-off low and release of water during summer, fall, and winter keeps flows unnaturally high (Muhlfeld, 2012). The current flow management strategy simulates natural flow conditions to maximize bull trout habitat in the South Fork of the Flathead River by keeping flows lower, but flows must still remain artificially high to augment flow for anadromous fish recovery hundreds of miles downstream, in the lower Columbia River Basin (Muhlfeld, 2012). Caught in a web of ecological consequences, changing one thing then affects another, achieving all pre-dam conditions is elusive. Can a controlled river really be made to mimic a natural river?

The visitor’s passing comment about one of the beneficial effects of the dam is true; the dam has proven an effective barrier against nonnative fish. The South Fork River upstream of the Hungry Horse Dam contains one of the largest self-sustaining populations of westslope cutthroat trout in existence (Marotz et al., 1996). The reservoir also supports a stable bull trout population, which can be attributed to the relatively undisturbed spawning tributaries in the Bob Marhsall Wilderness upstream of the dam (Marotz et al., 1996). Moreover, the dam provides clean, renewable energy, critical as we try to slow down human-caused climate change. Yet, by removing the historical disturbances of flood and drought cycles through flow regulation, the biological characteristics of the downstream Flathead River have been altered (Schmutz and Moog, 2018; Muhlfeld, 2012). And, of course, the reservoir itself has buried an entire landscape and its local ecosystem under hundreds of feet of water. The Hungry Horse dam created a new ecosystem while also preserving some aspects of the past ecosystem. Some impacts of the dam can be mitigated, while other impacts require adaptation in human, animal, and plant lifestyle.

The land southeast of the reservoir, past the Spotted Bear Ranger Station; the mist over the old burn area looked like a fantasy novel setting

References

Christenson, D. J., Robert L. Sund, and Brian L. Marotz. “Hungry Horse Dams successful selective withdrawal system.” Hydro Review 15.3 (1996).

Grant, James A. “Historic Logging Uses and Timber Management at Hungry Horse Reservoir.” U.S. Bureau of Reclamation. (2018). https://www.bpa.gov/-/media/Aep/environmental-initiatives/cultural-resources/historic-logging-uses.pdf

“Hungry Horse Reservoir, Montana: Biological Impact Evaluation and Operational Constraints for a proposed 90,000-acre-foot withdrawal.” State of Montana. September 14, 2011. https://dnrc.mt.gov/_docs/water/Appendix_8_StateBiologicalConstraintsMemo.pdf

Lee, Gabriel. “Overview: The Big Dam Era.” Energy History Online. Yale University. (2023). https://energyhistory.yale.edu/the-big-dam-era/.

Marotz, B. L., et al. “Model development to establish integrated operational rule curves for Hungry Horse and Libby Reservoirs—Montana.” Report to the Bonneville Power Administration. Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks, Kalispell (1996).

McKay, Kathryn L. “Trails of the Past: Historical Overview of the Flathead National Forest, Montana, 1800–1960.” Flathead National Forest. (1994). http://www.npshistory.com/publications/usfs/region/1/flathead/history/#:~:text=TRAILS%20OF%20THE%20PAST:%20Historical%20Overview

Muhlfeld, Clint C., et al. “Assessing the impacts of river regulation on native bull trout (Salvelinus confluentus) and westslope cutthroat trout (Oncorhynchus clarkii lewisi) habitats in the upper Flathead River, Montana, USA.” River Research and Applications 28.7 (2012): 940-959.

Richards, David C., and Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks. “Possible effects of selective withdrawal-temperature control at Hungry Horse Dam, nuisance growth of Didymosphenia geminata, and other factors, on benthic macroinvertebrate assemblages in the Flathead River.” Report to Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks, Kalispell MT (2010).

Schmutz, Stefan, and Otto Moog. “Dams: ecological impacts and management.” Riverine ecosystem management: Science for governing towards a sustainable future (2018): 111-127.

Shaw, Charlie. “The Flathead Story.” USDA Forest Service, Flathead National Forest. (1967) http://www.npshistory.com/publications/usfs/region/1/flathead/story/index.htm#:~:text=THE%20FLATHEAD%20STORY.%20By.%20Charlie%20Shaw.

Stanford, Jack A., and F. Richard Hauer. “Mitigating the impacts of stream and lake regulation in the Flathead River catchment, Montana, USA: an ecosystem perspective.” Aquatic Conservation: Marine and Freshwater Ecosystems 2.1 (1992): 35-63.

Stene, Eric A. “Hungry Horse Project.” U.S. Bureau of Reclamation. (1995) https://www.usbr.gov/projects/pdf.php?id=125

Caring for the Future: Seed Banks and Nurseries

Posted on 16 October, 2024 by Grace Davenport

A howling, cold wind forced the small crew of scientists to huddle closer. The group’s navigator glanced from her rudimentary compass to the horizon, concentrating her tired eyes on a small dark shape that stood opposed to the pale, starlit snowfields. The group was traveling in the Artic Circle, a land no more desolate now than most of the post-apocalyptic planet. At last, a man-made building resolved itself against the pale dawn. The tall concrete walls cut the wind and a quiet fell upon them. The navigator faced the stainless-steel entrance of the imposing tomb. She knew, though, that life lie frozen, preserved in that breathless place in the form of seeds. Millions of seeds, preserved by people of the past for the unknown future, contained the hope for replenished agriculture and revegetation. She had reached the ‘Doomsday Vault’ — the Svalbard Global Seed Vault.

Not the Svalbard Global Seed Vault but looks like a sci-fi building! Saw this radio equipment (?) on Blacktail Mountain, Flathead National Forest, Montana.

In the popular imagination, seed vaults conjure up post-apocalyptic visions of bunker-like warehouses filled with crop seeds for kickstarting a new human civilization. Helen Anne Curry, in her paper “The history of seed banking and the hazards of backup,” discusses the origin of this doomsday fear: a survival strategy for mid-20^th century Cold War anxieties. The Cold War inspired a frenzy of record backups, computer and communication system redundancies, and other safeguards against global environmental catastrophes. Saving seeds represented an insurance policy for our food, forests, and the green of our planet. The Fort Collins Seed Bank in Fort Collins, Colorado fulfilled this need for redundancy, with the first “Fort Knox of the seed world’ opening in 1958 (Curry, 2022). The Svalbard Global Seed Bank, built almost 50 years later, continues to assuage similar fears but it also represents a more active, dynamic approach to modern day seed-saving needs. The Svalbard Seed Vault, located in the remote Artic Svalbard archipelago, functions quite literally as a seed “bank” in which a nation or organization deposits seeds in a safe box that is then available for withdrawal at the depositor’s request. Svalbard is a backup for the thousands of other seed banks throughout the world, a safeguard against the worst, but it is not a sealed off seed tomb. The seed vault regularly accepts deposits and honors withdrawals. To date, the only withdrawals have been from Syria in 2015 and 2017 due to the civil war disrupting a gene bank located in Tel Hadya, Syria (Dan, 2015).

Many organizations concerned with plant conservation and genetic diversity like botanical gardens, university laboratories, and nurseries, partake in some form of seed saving. The ability to preserve living plants, in the form of a seed, offers a highly adaptable opportunity for humanity to realize the needs and goals for both our local and global plant communities.

Conifer seeds stored in drums in the cold storage freezers at the Coeur d’Alene Seed Nursery; not as cold as Svalbard!

How It’s Made: Trees (and Plants) for Future Forests

My co-intern and I visited the USDA Coeur d’Alene Seed Nursery in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho this month. The 220-acre nursery includes 25 greenhouses, 130 acres of bareroot seedbeds, multiple buildings for seed extraction, and numerous freezers for seed banking. The nursery provides native conifer, forb, and grass seedlings and seed mixes mainly for Region 1 National Forests in Idaho, Montana, and North Dakota (USDA Forest Service). The nursery participates in many projects including the Northern Region’s Tree Improvement program for growing and testing Whitebark pine seedlings for blister rust resistance. The forest I am working with, the Flathead NF, is sending seed to the nursery for extraction and use in grow outs to increase seed number of our target species. Eventually, the bulk-grown seed will form pollinator seed mixes for use back on the Flathead NF in disturbed areas.

Greenhouse and fields at the Coeur d’Alene Seed Nursery.

We first toured the huge, industrially-sized “Seed Extractory”. Large boxes, each holding hundreds of pinecones, are stacked from floor to ceiling (see picture for scale). Hot air is pumped through the stacked boxes, turning the whole pinecone-filled column into a kiln. The heat opens the cones and releases the seeds. Inside the main building, ductwork lines then walls and ceiling, moving air from one machine to another, providing a means to separate the dense seed material from the chaff. Screens of different sizes could be fitted into the various sifting and sorting machines to accommodate a wide range of seed sizes. A sample from each batch of purified seed is then tested vias X-ray for seed viability. X-rays reveal dried-up embryos or hollow seeds that would otherwise escape notice. The nursery manager described the importance of creativity in purifying seeds and the lack of standardization in the seed cleaning processes since each species requires unique troubleshooting. Some seed extraction, despite all the helpful machinery, must be done by hand. This is the case for Whitebark pine (Pinus albicaulis). Whitebark pine is considered a “stone pine” due to the cone scales never opening, even when the seeds are ripe. Heating the cones up in the kilns only makes the scales close more tightly. The cones must be cracked open by hand, imitating the natural forces they encounter in the wild—being crunched by grizzly bear jaws or cracked by awl-like beaks of the Clark’s nutcracker (National Park Service).

A “dewinger” machine for removing the wings off pinecone seeds

We next moved to the storage room, which contained huge walk-in freezers that housed enough conifer seeds to meet revegetation goals for Region 1 Forests for the next 10 to 20 years! Conifer seed, like other “orthodox seed,” can withstand freezing and drying for long periods of time. Some samples of Lodgepole pine seeds stored at the nursery since the 1960s still have a 70% germination rate (Robertson, 2024). The freezers at the nursery are not as cold as the -18C of the permafrost-entombed Svalbard Global Seed Vault (Hopkin, 2008). Seeds stored at higher temperatures, a warmer -2C, are not destined for potentially century-long storage. Rather, these seeds are used for ongoing projects and near-future seed planting. Pollen and seed from white pine blister rust resistant conifers is stored in the freezers for the Northern Rocky Tree Improvement Project. Four defense mechanisms against the blister rust have been genetically isolated and some conifer species, represented in the freezer, contain all four mechanisms of resistance (Robertson, 2024). Seed banks, nurseries, vaults, and libraries provide the necessary storage space for reassurance that genetic diversity can be maintained for both short-term and long-term conservation goals.

White pine blister rust infection (*Cronartium ribicola*); evident as the orange scab-like protrusions on the bark

My co-intern Erynn (on the left) and I with some pollen from a white pine blister rust resistant conifer

Reimagined Visions: Keep Cool and Save Seeds

While the fear of global environmental catastrophe still informs certain aspects of seed banking, seed saving today serves many other interests and needs. The Millenium Seed Bank Partnership stores seeds from 13% of the world’s wild flowering plants, representing a concern for the ex-situ conservation of wild plants as opposed to seed banking of only economically or agriculturally useful plants (Lewis-Jones, 2019). USDA Seed Extractories and Nurseries like the one we visited in Coeur d’Alene increase the availability of native seeds adapted to local, native growing conditions (Kantor et al., 2023). Smaller seed banks, housed in non-profits or botanical gardens, provide localized seed collections of endemic or culturally and historically significant plants. Seed libraries provide an even more dynamic and accessible service in which people from the community can lend and share seed among themselves. Seed saving of any kind represents a “partnership” of the “the mobile species helping the immobile species” and, of course, vice versa (Lewis-Jones, 2019).

Boxes of trees, ready for shipment, with an apt slogan: “Trees for Future Forests.”

References

“Coeur d’Alene Nursery.” USDA Forest Service. https://www.fs.usda.gov/detail/ipnf/about-forest/districts/?cid=stelprdb5085769. Accessed 30 August 2024.

“Whitebark pine.” National Park Service. https://www.nps.gov/crla/learn/nature/whitebark-pine.htm. Accessed 1 September 2024.

Curry, H. A. (2022). The history of seed banking and the hazards of backup. Social Studies of Science, 52(5), 664-688. https://doi.org/10.1177/03063127221106728

Dan, Charles. “Reclaiming Syria’s Seeds From An Icy Arctic Vault”. NPR, 24 September 2015, https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2015/09/24/443053665/scientists-tap-seed-vault-to-rebuild-a-vital-collection-stranded-by-war. Accessed 30 August 2024.

Hopkin, M. Biodiversity: Frozen futures. Nature 452, 404–405 (2008). https://doi.org/10.1038/452404a

Kantor, S., Runyon, J., Glenny, W., Burkle, L., Salix, J., & DeLong, D. (2023). Of bees and blooms: A new scorecard for selecting pollinator-friendly plants in restoration. Science You Can Use Bulletin, Issue 58. Fort Collins, CO: US Department of Agriculture, Forest Service, Rocky Mountain Research Station. 11 p.

Lewis-Jones, K.E. (2019), “The First Step Is to Bring It Into Our Hands:” Wild Seed Conservation, the Stewardship of Species Survival, and Gardening the Anthropocene at the Millennium Seed Bank Partnership. Cult Agric Food Environ, 41: 107-116. https://doi.org/10.1111/cuag.12238

Robertson, Nathan. “Tour of the Coeur d’Alene Nursery”. Coeur d’Alene Nursery, Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. 20 August 2024.

Plants of medicine, myth and modernity

Posted on 16 August, 2024 by Grace Davenport

Plants shape our historical and modern worlds

For many of us in the modern age, plants blend into the background. The joy of this internship, and other outdoor work, is the movement of plants to centerstage again as primary shapers of the world. Not long ago in Europe and much more recently in North America, plants were the primary suppliers of medicine and raw materials. Here in and around the Flathead National Forest, plants were imperative for everyday life of the Salish and Kootenai people. An exhaustive list of plants and their traditional uses is not possible here, but important edible plants included Serviceberry, Huckleberry, and Camas (Bear Don’t Walk, 2019). Plants for raw materials included Apocynum cannabinum for rope, Salix (willow) for fish traps, and Holodiscus discolor (oceanspray) for digging stick handles (Ryan, 2024). In the paragraphs to follow, I focus on three medicinal plants, common and widespread across multiple continents, that many cultures used and still use today. The independent use of these plants for similar ailments across different cultures corroborates their effectiveness. The application of these plants goes back thousands of years, with the origin of their medicinal value shrouded in myth and legend but their effectiveness indisputable and tangible with the modern-day scientific isolation of their bioactive compounds.

The view from Doris Mtn, looking west across the Flathead valley

Yarrow: ancient medical hero

Yarrow, the common name for various plant species in the Achillea genus, is widespread throughout Eurasia and North America. Species of Achillea have been used for thousands of years in the treatment of wounds, infections, inflammation and skin conditions (Applequist & Moerman, 2011). Yarrow pollen was unearthed at the 65,000-year-old burial site of several Homo neanderthalensis in a cave near Shanidar, Iran (Applequist & Moerman, 2011). The genus name, Achillea, honors the ancient Greek mythological hero Achilles. Achilles was not just a famed (nearly invincible) warrior; he was also trained in the arts of medicine by his tutor, Chiron the Centaur. The ancient Greeks believed Achilles discovered the astringent properties of Yarrow and carried it with his army to stem bleeding wounds (Chandler et al.,1982). In addition to wound healing, the Salish boiled leaves and stems of Achillea millefolium for colds and made a compress out of the leaves for toothaches (Hart,1979).

Modern-day chemical analysis and assays of the bioactive compounds in Achillea reinforce traditional medicinal uses. Sesquiterpenes isolated from yarrow display anti-inflammatory properties through inhibition of COX-2, an enzyme involved in inflammation and pain (Applequist & Moerman, 2001; Benedek & Kopp, 2007). Extracts of four Achillea species, including the Achillea millefolium species found in the Flathead National Forest, showed a broad spectrum of antimicrobial activity against seven different strains of pathogenic bacteria and fungi (Saeidnia et al., 2011). The aromatic, delicately feathered leaves and cloud-like flower heads of yarrow contain compounds for a familiar and ever-present need: wound-healing.

Yarrow, *Achillea millefolium*, in flower

St. John’s Wort: revered and reviled

St. John’s Wort, Hypericum perforatum, is native to Eurasia and North Africa, but is now so common in North America it is often considered a noxious weed. The showy, yellow flowers and glandular leaves contain numerous bioactive compounds that are harmful to grazing animals but prove useful for human medicine. St. John’s Wort was used in traditional Chinese, Greek, and Islamic medicine for depression, anxiety, nerve pain, wounds, infections, and inflammation (Barnes et al., 2001). The scientific genus name, Hypericum, is ancient Greek for “above” (hyper) and “picture” (eikon). “Above picture” refers to the tradition of hanging the revered and powerful plant over religious icons (Barnes et al., 2001). The common name, St. John’s Wort, originates from the practice of harvesting the plant during the Midsummer festival, later Chirstinaized as St. John’s Feast Day. Harvesting the flowers at such an auspicious time was believed to make the herb’s healing and magical powers even more potent (Trickey-Bapty, 2001). On the festival day, St. John’s Wort was hung over doorways to ward off evil spirits. This practice inspired another common name: “fuge daemonum” (demon-flight).

Fields of the tall yellow flowers, which excrete a rusty red compound when crushed, are a familiar site along disturbed roads, old logging sites, and burns here on the Flathead National Forest. The plant’s bioactive compounds give it both medicinal properties and also invasive advantages, since the plant engages in allelopathy and releases chemicals into the surrounding soil that inhibit other species’ germination and growth (Aziz, 2006). Chemical analysis reveals two significant bioactive compounds, hypericin and hyperforin, that support several of the traditional uses of St. John’s Wort (Barnes et al., 2001). Hyperforin appears to inhibit serotonin uptake, analogous to conventional selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), as well as inhibit the uptake of other neurotransmitters like dopamine and norepinephrine (Barnes. 2001). These antidepressant activities are substantiated in randomized controlled studies where the herb is more effective than a placebo and as effective as several conventional antidepressants in mild-to-moderate depression (Barnes, 2001). Hyperforin shows significant antimicrobial and antifungal effects as well as increased collagen synthesis which expediates wound healing (Nobakht, 2022).

St John’s Wort, the plant of demon-flight

A family of pungent herbs: the Mints

One of the oldest surviving medical texts in the world, the ancient Egyptian Ebers Papyrus from 1550 BC, recommends mint for stomach pain and flatulence (Pickering, 2020). The Salish and Kootenai as well as the Blackfeet used a local mint family member, Monarda fistulosa (Beebalm), for stomach pain, toothaches, colds, and fevers (Anderson; Hart 1979). Monarda fistulosa contains thymol, a strong antiseptic, with a cooling, strong flavor and odor that is popular today in mouthwashes and toothpaste (Lawson et al., 2021). The Salish rubbed Monarda fistulosa on the body for a mosquito repellant and sprinkled dried leaves on meat and berries to repel flies and preserve food (Bear Don’t Walk, 2009). The antimicrobial activity of the plant is attributed to terpenoids that slow the growth of certain pathogenic bacteria, like Streptococcus aureus (Anwar et al., 2019). Members of the mint family include an array of herbs such as beebalm, self-heal, horsemint and thyme that caught the attention of people as possessing the revered ability to heal.

Many cultures throughout the ancient and indigenous world recognized the medicinal properties of Yarrow, St. John’s Wort, and mint. The long-standing importance of these plants in the human story explains their persistence as daily shapers of our world today.

References

Anderson, M. Kat. “Wild Bergamot.” United States Department of Agriculture. https://plants.usda.gov/DocumentLibrary/plantguide/pdf/pg_mofi.pdf

Anwar F, Abbas A, Mehmood T, Gilani A-H, Rehman N. Mentha: A genus rich in vital nutra-pharmaceuticals—A review. Phytotherapy Research. 2019; 33, 2548–2570. https://doi.org/10.1002/ptr.6423

Applequist, W.L., Moerman, D.E. Yarrow (Achillea millefolium L.): A Neglected Panacea? A Review of Ethnobotany, Bioactivity, and Biomedical Research¹ . Economic Botany 65, 209–225 (2011). https://doi.org/10.1007/s12231-011-9154-3

Azizi, M. and Fuji, Y. (2006). ALLELOPATHIC EFFECT OF SOME MEDICINAL PLANT SUBSTANCES ON SEED GERMINATION OF AMARANTHUS RETROFLEXUS AND PORTULACA OLERACEAE. Acta Hortic. 699, 61-68 DOI: 10.17660/ActaHortic.2006.699.5 https://doi.org/10.17660/ActaHortic.2006.699.5

Barnes, J., Anderson, L.A. and Phillipson, J.D. (2001), St John’s wort (Hypericum perforatum L.): a review of its chemistry, pharmacology and clinical properties. Journal of Pharmacy and Pharmacology, 53: 583-600. https://doi.org/10.1211/0022357011775910

Bear Don’t Walk, Mitchell Rose, “Recovering our Roots: The Importance of Salish Ethnobotanical Knowledge and Traditional Food Systems to Community Wellbeing on the Flathead Indian Reservation in Montana.” (2019). Graduate Student Theses, Dissertations, & Professional Papers. 11494. https://scholarworks.umt.edu/etd/11494

Benedek, B., Kopp, B. Achillea millefolium L. s.l. revisited: Recent findings confirm the traditional use. Wien Med Wochenschr 157, 312–314 (2007). https://doi.org/10.1007/s10354-007-0431-9

Chandler, R.F., Hooper, S.N. & Harvey, M.J. Ethnobotany and phytochemistry of yarrow, Achillea millefolium, compositae. Econ Bot 36, 203–223 (1982). https://doi.org/10.1007/BF02858720

Hart, Jeffrey A. “The ethnobotany of the Flathead Indians of Western Montana.” Botanical Museum Leaflets, Harvard University 27.10 (1979): 261-307.

Lawson SK, Satyal P, Setzer WN. The Volatile Phytochemistry of Monarda Species Growing in South Alabama. Plants. 2021; 10(3):482. https://doi.org/10.3390/plants10030482

Nobakht SZ, Akaberi M, Mohammadpour AH, Tafazoli Moghadam A, Emami SA. Hypericum perforatum: Traditional uses, clinical trials, and drug interactions. Iran J Basic Med Sci. 2022 Sep;25(9):1045-1058. doi: 10.22038/IJBMS.2022.65112.14338. PMID: 36246064; PMCID: PMC9526892.

Pickering, Victoria. “Plant of the Month: Mint.” JSTOR Daily, 1 April 2020, https://daily.jstor.org/plant-of-the-month-mint/.

Ryan, Tim. “Ethnobotany of the Confederated Salish & Kootenai Tribes.” Montana Native Plant Society Annual Meeting, 28 June 2024, Camp Utmost, Greenough MT. Lecture.

Saeidnia S, Gohari A, Mokhber-Dezfuli N, Kiuchi F. A review on phytochemistry and medicinal properties of the genus Achillea. Daru. 2011;19(3):173-86. PMID: 22615655; PMCID: PMC3232110.

Trickey-Bapty C (2001). Martyrs and miracles. New York: Testament Books. p. 132. ISBN 9780517164037.

Buzzing

Posted on 10 August, 2021 by Tessa Fenstermaker

Buzzing. A common cacophony throughout the Ottawa National Forest. From the low hum of happy bumblebees, to the erratic zipping of deer flies around my head, to the roar of angry ground wasps, buzzing seems to be all around me. It took a bit to get used to just how many insects were here on the Ottawa, but I will take the buzzing flies any day over the clouds of mosquitoes that plagued us in June. My mentor, Ian Shackleford, gave us fly patches for the backs of our hardhats to combat against the flies. While these patches are not a necessity all of the time, one day in particular there were a few sites that felt like I was under attack, so I decided to give one of the patches a try. The result? After a little less than ten minutes, twelve or so flies had buzzed themselves stuck to the back of my head.

A part of me felt a little guilty for trapping the flies down this way, but another part of me was glad for the reprieve from them getting stuck in my hair.

The buzz of bumblebees is my favorite one, and with so many wildflowers blooming, I get to hear it often. I got the opportunity to work closely with the bees when I joined up with our wildlife technicians for bee monitoring. The technicians are working on part of a study of eDNA, or environmental DNA, to detect what kind of pollen bees may be carrying. We went out and did the traditional collection of bees, which involves netting for 30 minutes, but then we meticulously set out bee bowls (colored bowls with soapy water) in a crosshair pattern. This water (and the insects that unfortunately for them slipped in throughout the previous day and night) was collected the next day and then run through a filter to collect the tiny pollen grains that insects carried into the water. This filter and the insects from the bowls will then be sent to the lab to run PCR to amplify the DNA of the pollen that the water contained. The idea behind the study is to compare the surrounding environment to what is actually caught in the water and what the bees we netted were carrying. One of the most important things I learned from tagging along these days was how challenging field research can be, especially when the study might not have been designed with the specific location in mind and the difference between theory and practice of data collection. For example, the wildlife technicians have had trouble with slugs climbing into the bowls overnight, which creates a thick slime that cannot be filtered. Additionally, it seemed that the detergent they used also created a problem for filtering the full amount of water, but they had limited supplies and could not use more than one filter. These are all problems that will need troubleshooting in the coming years to make eDNA studies more feasible and valid.

A golden crab spider (*Misumena vatia*) on purple loosestrife (*Lythrum salicaria*), one of the invasive plants we manage. The flowers of this plant are very beautiful and attract plenty of bees.

I also get to hear the buzzing of bees when I am working on my primary task of invasive plant management. Ian had my co-intern Emily and I help him with the biomonitoring of two weevil species he worked to get approval to release, Larinus obtusus and Cyphocleonus achates. Larinus obtusus, the more abundant of the weevils we found at each site, eat the seedhead of the spotted knapweed, reducing the seed production and seedbank of the plant. This is vital for reducing numbers of a plant that can have viable seeds in the seedbank for at least 8+ years. Cyphocleonus achates is the root boring weevil of spotted knapweed, and much larger than the other weevil we monitored, yet much more elusive. We only found two individuals in our entire day of monitoring, but this still means that they are present at at least some of our sites, a good indicator that they are surviving (at least at some level) the cold winters here.

My mentor, Ian, takes a picture of the elusive *Cyphocleonus achates* on my finger. He loves posting to iNaturalist!

In the past decade, the weevils have become more widespread, and I spend a few seconds looking for Larinus obtusus whenever I see a large patch of knapweed. I have had pretty good luck of finding them, even when I am not on forest land. However, it is still unclear if they are actually reducing the knapweed populations. At two of our sites, it seemed humans were the reason for much of the knapweed decline, well, more specifically the vehicles of humans. However, at the last site it seemed that native grasses have started to form denser patches again. This could be because of reduced knapweed populations, intentional native replanting, a combination of the two, or completely unrelated. This ambiguity is what intrigues me about ecology and keeps pulling me back in for more… though it does make it challenging for people like Ian to know if his weevils are working.

A close-up of the *Cyphocleonus achates* that I netted and counted in our sample.

As a grand finale for our day of weevil monitoring, we went to a nearby site of a rare plant, the dwarf bilberry. These plants resemble blueberries, but as the name suggests, they are considerably smaller. They are low to the ground, inconspicuous, and the berries themselves could fit under my fingernail. Sue Trull, the botanist who focuses on native plant restoration, had planted these bilberries, and they have been thriving at the site, so much so that there was a bounty of them (by rare plant measures) to be harvested to send to Toumey Nursery to grow into new plants that could be planted to help bolster the population of bilberries on the forest. While picking some of these bilberries, making sure some remain to expand the site’s population for next year, we decided to update Sue on the bilberries. She replied with elation about their success at the site and offered that Emily and I could try one if we liked. We both felt a little bit important, getting to eat a whole berry of a rare plant (which each contain three to five individual seeds), and we jumped at the chance. I had low expectations for the flavor of these berries based on their appearance (see picture below). I imagined the fruits must be quite dry and have just a little flavor based on their small, wrinkled form, but the experience of trying something so unusual was not something I was willing to pass up. To my surprise, and overall delight, I had underestimated the dwarf bilberry. The teeny tiny berry packed so much flavor, and while it was reminiscent of a blueberry, it was not the same flavor entirely. It almost seemed to be a sweeter, more concentrated blueberry flavor, like the filling of a blueberry pie after it has been cooked down, but without being cooked at all. It seems every day that the forest teaches me something new, provides me with a new flavor of life, or straight up tells me I was wrong before. I am looking forward to all the surprises to come, and all of the growing that remains between now and November, both from the plants and from myself.

The bounty of dwarf bilberries that we picked and will send to the nursery to be grown for next year.

Tessa Fenstermaker, Ottawa National Forest

Doors to a New Way of Life

Posted on 12 July, 2021 by Tessa Fenstermaker

All too often, I see bright, passionate young people jumping into graduate programs right after their undergraduate degrees. This might be the best choice for some, maybe even a majority, but I’m sure many have also felt the pressure to go to graduate school because you know school is something you’ve been good at, it’s a sure plan, and it’ll buy more time for things to fall into place. I decided during my last year of college that “might as well” wasn’t a good enough reason to go to school for two to four or more years and decide on the niche I would study and fall into the rest of my life. Instead, I have been forging my own path to test out my interests and desires and see what sticks. My adventure started with a year living in Germany, becoming an ESL teacher, and then moving to Las Vegas to try out van life while working for Nevada Conservation Corps. While in Las Vegas, I learned so much about the people in conservation that make all of the concepts and theories that I’d learned in the classroom come to life and the diversity of jobs that it takes to make it happen. Originally from Ohio, I decided I wanted something a little closer to home this summer and fall, and I landed at Ottawa National Forest.

When I arrived, I was immediately charmed by the small town of Ironwood and awestruck by the towering pines. The John Muir quote “Between every two pine trees is a door leading to a new way of life,” came to mind, and it has stuck with me ever since as I stroll and tromp between pines to get to our work sites. I am on an invasive plant crew at Ottawa National Forest, and after a few weeks, I finally feel like I have settled in a bit. Like many other jobs where nature is the office space, our typical day is tricky to pin down. Some days are straightforward: show up to the office, get your maps, get to as many sites as possible and thoroughly look for and treat the invasive species there such as garlic mustard, honeysuckle, Japanese barberry, glossy buckthorn or goutweed. Other days leave me completely open-mouthed that this is my real life and I’m getting paid to do this: try on the wet suits and go snorkeling for Eurasian watermilfoil.

My co-intern, Emily (left) and I (right) at Crooked Lake in Sylvania Wilderness Area before snorkeling for Eurasian watermilfoil

When starting a new job, I think it’s important to set goals, and what better place to write them down than a blog post for all to see and read. My biggest professional goal, which I have already made huge strides in, is becoming a better navigator. I tend to rely on my phone for GPS quite a bit when I’m driving in my personal vehicle, and I couldn’t tell you which way a road runs. However, invasive plant sites aren’t nicely saved into Google Maps, so we have to use our paper maps to navigate the dirt, sometimes overgrown Forest Service roads. At first, I was nervous about navigating, afraid to take us down a wrong road. I quickly learned two things– 1.) That it’s not the end of the world to make a wrong turn and 2.) How to make less wrong turns. I’m excited to see how my navigation skills will improve by the end of this internship!

Most of the other goals I have are personal and some of them not directly work-related. Here are a few: see a wild bear, catch a fish, see a rare plant, learn and be able to ID 20 new plants (this number will only increase, as I’m learning new plants every day in the dense and diverse forest), and form new friendships while I’m in Ironwood. In the coming months, there’s a lot I’m looking forward to, the change of season with the spectacular colors of the trees, the different invasive species projects, learning about the innerworkings of the forest service, and of course getting to know my co-intern, Emily, and supervisor, Ian, much better. Field work can be challenging, especially because nature doesn’t care if you’re already covered in mosquito bites and your socks are wet, but even through long, itchy, soggy days, Ian always has a smile on his face and arrives the next day chipper as ever, excited for work at 6 am. It’s an enthusiasm Emily and I have taken note of and hope to emulate even a fraction of. There’s still a lot of adjusting I have to do before I feel like the forest is a second home to me, but I’m finding doors to a new way of life every day. Each one starts to feel a little more welcoming and familiar than the last.

Tessa Fenstermaker, Ottawa National Forest

Vibing in the Southwest

Posted on 17 June, 2021 by Natasha Khanna-Dang

After spending months living in quarantine in Los Angeles, California, I eagerly anticipated starting my internship with the Lincoln National Forest this summer in Alamogordo, New Mexico. As I made my drive out east from LA, I watched the landscape transition from dense urban development, to Saguaro cactus-filled Sonoran Desert, to the more desolate scrub of the Chihuahuan Desert. The Sacramento Mountains finally came into view; a joyous sight after hundreds of miles of desert scrub. I had finally arrived.

Natasha Khanna-Dang enjoying the desert.

Alamogordo is a medium-sized town bordering Texas and is about an hour and a half drive from the Mexican border. This region of the Southwest lies on the traditional and unceded territories of the Apache people. The Mescalero Apache Nation, who still live on a fraction of their ancestral lands, have their reservation on a large section of the Sacramento Mountain Range.

Mescalero Apache camp in the late 1800s in what is now the Lincoln National Forest.

My fellow intern Ashlyn Lythgoe and I will be spending the summer conducting surveys in sections of the Lincoln National Forest that have never been surveyed for rare plants. The data we collect will provide baseline information for large scale restoration, forest thinning, and seed banking projects. The data will also be used by the U.S. Forest Service Rocky Mountain Research Station for creating a habitat suitability model. One of the goals of the model will be to develop habitat suitability analysis for identifying exact habitats for endangered, threatened, and regionally sensitive rare plant species.

With fellow crew members Joseph Ure and Ashlyn Lithgow brushing up on botany skills. Second image was identified as Conophilus alpina var. Mexicana, which has a parasitic relationship with Querecus gambelii.

We are still in the initial stages of our surveys. Unlike other parts of the country, New Mexico, and sections of the Southwest experience summer monsoons. As a result, the flowering season here will start in July and goes on till the end of September. In the meantime, we have been brushing up on our botany skills and assisting the Natural Resources crew a riparian restoration project.

Building one rock dams in order t0 restore a riparian zone that was severely impacted by an unauthorized road and a forest fire. Left to Right: Joseph Ure, Ashlyn Lithgow, and Jennifer Hickman. Photo credit: Shelby Manford.

As a newbie to the Southwest, I was surprised to see the large range in ecotones which includes scrub in the desert floor, grasslands and meadows, ponderosa pine that transitions to mix coniferous forests at higher altitudes, and a bit of subalpine forest habitat.

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