Monday, January 22, 2024

A Winter Walk in Snowy Woods

The original post was from January 21, 2024. In response, Rebeccah Hartz sent photos and comments, which follow.

On Jan. 21, Stephen Packard wrote: "During my two-hour walk in Somme Woods, I saw no birds and only one species of mammal. Yet I felt community with my wild neighbors, as their tracks were everywhere." 

Here, amid deer hoof prints, juncos left prints from their wing feathers. A careful look at the brown spots here and there in the snow revealed their purpose here - eating the seeds that were falling into the snow from the tree above. 

This photo shows the seeds better. Hop hornbeam seeds are enclosed in brown papery containers (that look as they hang in clusters on the tree like the hops used to brew beer). 

These tracks were made by a white-footed mouse - probably the commonest animal in the woods. As they bound along, all four feet land close together, and their long tail makes a signature imprint in the snow. 

This is a "mouse highway." Mice spend most of their time relatively safe from predators under the snow. But here, a mouse has emerged repeatedly from its snow tunnel, through the dark hole at the bottom of the photo, to cross the Outer Loop footpath (here showing coyote footprints), probably to get to one of its food caches. Mice hide seeds and nuts in little storehouses and then venture out from time to time to retrieve and bring them to their cozy nest to eat. That coyote would be happy to catch that mouse for its own meal. 


Here, under some old bur oaks, much of the snow has been kicked aside, as deer look for acorns. Most trees produce a big crop of acorns only every few years. But the deer know where those places are. Acorns are a major winter food for them. 

Here, in a large area of unbroken snow, two patches stand out. Probably some squirrel has cached two patches of acorns under white oaks. Squirrels bury some acorns, but that's a lot of work. So sometimes they just assemble them in the leaves, and if the deer find them, they'll raid them.

White oaks are identifiable in winter by their whitish bark. The oldest trees in Somme Woods are bur and white oaks. Typical old ones have wide spreading limbs and the remains of now-dead spreading limbs that died in the shade before we rescued them from invasive "pole trees." The tall, dense, skinny pole trees are the most common trees in this photo. Many natural, now-rare woodland plants and animals don't survive the dense shade produced by the pole trees. Here in the foreground, stewardship volunteers have removed enough of them to support the development of new growth and new life.

The woodland footprints here are those of stewards who, on a below-zero day yesterday, cut invasive trees to make room from some young oaks (upper left). They left the stumps to cut low later when they'll have a better chance to apply herbicide to the stumps without having to contend with the snow. 

A second bonfire pile from yesterday. Though without flames, the coals can remain hot. Notice that in the background of this former open oak woodland - tall, skinny, invader trees are way too dense. As the stewards continue to thin them, we'll start to see the first bur and white oak reproduction in decades as well as increasing populations of the now-rare animals, plants, and other biota that depend on sunny oak woodlands. 

These deer were sleeping next to Fourth Pond, where the Forest Preserve staff girdled large cottonwood trees to reduce shade years ago. It's easy to see where the strip of bark and phloem were removed from two trees on the right. As I walked by on the Outer Loop trail, the deer stood up, just in case. After I passed by, they lay back down and went back to sleep. 

Here, a well-travelled trail seemed to have been made by a possum. But a coyote used it too and, rather than duck under this log like the possum, it stepped on the log as it jumped over. A great many animals like to use trails started by others. The possum trail started at a big old bur oak with holes to "hole up" in during cold weather. Why this possum made such a densely packed trail and, indeed, what they eat in winter are obscure to me. 

Here a "mouse highway" is crossed by a set of coyote tracks. If you zoom in, you can probably recognize the coyote tracks which, like dog tracks, show their five foot pads (unlike deer tracks, that show two hoof marks).

Deer and mouse tracks.

Rabbit tracks

After two hours in Somme Woods, I headed west to cross Waukegan Road into Somme Prairie Grove. While in Somme Woods I didn't see a single bird, though that could have been because I mostly had my head down, looking down for tracks. I did hear just two birds calling: one chickadee and one hairy woodpecker. 

The first Somme Prairie Grove photo shows these tunnels. There are no indications of hopping here, or long tail marks. These trails are thus likely made by meadow voles (probably the most common animals of our grasslands) or shrews.

I'd vote for shrews, as the voles have long-established tunnels at ground level, under the grass. Voles are vegetarians and in winter mostly eat seeds. Shrews are predators and mostly eat insects in winter. They bulldoze around looking for cocoons, chrysalids, and hibernating invertebrates of any sort. They will also sometimes kill and eat white-footed mice. It's odd to think of tiny shrews hunting for the same animal as big coyotes. But most every predator eats mice, also including foxes, snakes, weasels, hawks, and owls. 

Another sign of the white-footed mouse is isolated holes like the one above. Sometimes I see mouse tracks leading away from them. But mostly they look like this. Was the mouse claustrophobic and just wanting to take a look around? Or had the tunnel air gotten musty, and the hole was for better breathing? Perhaps some expert knows. I just get a kick out of seeing them.

Here some birds - probably tundra sparrows (more commonly, if misleadingly, known as American tree sparrows) have been eating seeds knocked off nearby plants. I saw none, indeed no birds at all, as in Somme Woods, but the frequent tracks indicated that they were here, somewhere. They tend to be in flocks of twenty to fifty, close together, and if you don't happen to walk through the part of the savanna where they are at that moment, you don't see them. 

These four deer were part of a herd of ten in a bur oak grove. Deer were the only animals I actually saw in Somme Prairie Grove, so you might think I would have been glad to see them. Well, I was a little glad. But I was mostly disappointed. A preserve the size of Somme Prairie Grove can sustainably support about two deer, according to the best research. Forest Preserve staff and Village of Northbrook staff both cull some deer in and near this preserve, but they don't cull nearly enough. 

The last photo for this post is below:
Speak of the devil, here a buck has used his antlers to nearly girdle a handsome young bur oak. The bucks choose trees that bend a bit, in order to practice the jousting that results in dominance and best mating prospects. We cage as many young oaks as we find time for, especially in more open areas where farmers long ago cut trees to make way for crops or pasture. But we didn't get to this one. A winter walk is a good time to asses what kinds of work we'll need to do more of next summer and fall. 

To anyone who's enjoyed learning from it, thanks for accompanying me on this walk. It was a pleasure to have you along, as I looked for what might be interesting. 

End of original post.

On January 15, one of those dangerously cold, sub-zero days, Rebeccah Hartz also took a walk in those same Somme Woods, snapped the following photos, and recorded these thoughts:

"The woods were full of life this afternoon, in the awesome silence of the cold. For what it's worth, I think with the right clothes the temperature did not feel so extreme, and the signs of so much life were continuously exciting. I hope these photos capture at least some hints of that excitement." 

This was one of the longest tunnels I came across. You can see the little ridge of slightly protruding/cracked surface snow where the creature burrowed along, and the occasional break where the creatures surfaced and took up running. I suspect shrews.

There were tunnels everywhere! Tracks of a white-footed mouse led to this one.

Detail of the photo shown above. 
I think the entrances and air vents are irresistible. I like how you can tell there's warmer air coming up from beneath the snow by the longer ice crystals around the hole. 

I walked the Middle Loop trail. No person had been out on it yet, just a solitary coyote and rabbit. Fortunately for the rabbit, the two sets of tracks head in opposite directions. 

At the edge of Fourth Pond, two tundra sparrows were feasting on seeds. They accompanied me the whole time I was there. Here they are against the backdrop of one of the fallen cottonwoods. Above us, a red-headed woodpecker hopped and glided from tree to tree. 


Coyote tracks headed out on the snow-covered pond. This picture doesn't show it, but in places you can see spots where the coyote lost its balance and went skittering across the ice.

Then, thrillingly enough, this beauty appeared. 

She or he gave me a brief look and made a quick retreat into the oaks.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Rebecca Hartz for great photos and thoughts. Thanks to Eriko Kojima for proofing and edits. 

Saturday, October 14, 2023

Fall Flora of Oak Woodlands

It should be celebrated, for two reasons: 

 

First, it’s beautiful and an inspiring finale to the growing season.

 

Second, a diverse and conservative fall flora is an indicator of woodland health, a rare thing today. Most woods have lost it. 

Somme Woods has benefitted from ambitious restoration (fire, thinning, and seeding) for four decades. It's a good place to get to know these important late-season plants. 

 Migrating birds harvest the insects that spend their lives in the woodland understory, and our eyes harvest the richness of its shapes and colors. 

Part 1. Two Goldenrods and Two Asters

Few people recognize such plants as Zigzag or Blue-stemmed Goldenrod. The handsome plant below is the zigzag one. It once was widely common in the oak woods. Now most woodlands don't have any. 

It's short and cute, often just a foot or two tall. Most of the fall plants in a high-quality woods are one to three feet tall. You can recognize Zigzag Goldenrod by its wide, toothy leaves. The stem does zig and zag a bit. The flowers are mostly in a clump at the summit. And there's another goldenrod in this photo, on both sides of the zigzag, with narrow leaves, shown better in the photo below:
Blue-stemmed Goldenrod is also a mark of quality. Its flowers are spread along the stem, emerging from the bases of the leaves. And the stem is indeed often blue or purple. 

In the photo below, three goldenrod species mix with three aster species:
Blue-stemmed is in the middle. One half of a Zigzag leaf is visible at the bottom. But the main plant here is Elm-leaved Goldenrod, easy to miss now because it's a late-summer plant, mostly finished blooming in October. (It's another one that's about two feet tall; its seeds are forming where the flowers were, on widely branching stems, visible here if you look close.) 

And then come the asters. The blue ones above are Short's Aster. The other, Forked Aster, is identifiable (lower right) by its tall stems and heart-shaped, toothed leaves; it normally has white flowers, but this year the deer ate the tops off most of them, including those here. 

In most woods you'll find no Short's Aster. Its place will be taken by the weedy Drummond's Aster. It takes a second look to differentiate the high-quality Short's (C = 8) from Drummond's Aster (C = 2). Both have blue flowers, but their leaf stems are different, as shown below:
The classy Short's Aster (right) has a thin leaf stem. The weedy Drummond's (left) has a stem that looks wide because of leaf-like "wings" along the sides. If you care about woodland health and biodiversity, seeing Short's Aster makes you feel good!

It's striking how different Somme is from nearby unrestored woods. 

For comparison, let's look at three photos from two nearby oak woods. This first woods has not had the benefit of fire:
The fall understory is mostly slow-growing maple seedlings, a few years old. Most of them will die from the competition. But a few, like those straight, skinny trunks here and there, will continue to completely shade out any oak reproduction and most of the oak flora and fauna. It's increasingly too dark for the ecosystem that was here. The red oaks, like that large dark trunk to the left, and the white oaks, like that ghostly large trunk in the distant center, will be the last of their kind here, unless good care for biodiversity arrives.

Nearby is a woods that has had some minimal restoration. It's been burned, as indicated by the blackened stump and by the fact that the older maple seedlings have been burned off.

Another shot of this minimally managed woods:
Mostly bare ground. The dark tree on the right is a red oak. The pale tree in the center is a white oak. They have long been without the fire that oaks woods need. The skinny, young trees are again maples. Despite the relatively mild, low-creeping fires, the oaks will not reproduce under the maples. Many trees would need to be thinned (or impractically more intense fire conducted) for this ecosystem to start to recover its natural biodiversity. For more on oak woods conservation, see Re-discovering Oak Woodlands and Blunt Answers to Nine Questions about Saving Oak Woodlands.

Now, for the fun of it, back to the happiness of Somme Woods. Increasingly, it's a rollicking fine woods. More and more people are appreciating how special it is. 

In the photo above, Short's Aster is joined by Showy Goldenrod, a rare plant in today's woodlands. Years ago, only a few survived on the edges of old fields here. Now it's reclaiming its place in the open woodlands, recovering thanks to controlled burns and the hard work of stewards thinning over-stocked trees. 

Though I like the plant a lot, I find it hard to get a good photo of Big-leaf Aster (above). The flowers are too high above the leaves. In this photo, the flowers just float, disconnected. The aster's leaves are the only wide ones. Most other plants here are Elm-leaved Goldenrod, but the one bottom-center with the white seeds is Woodland Puccoon or Broad-leaved Puccoon.

Speaking of puccoon...
... here it is again, lower right, this time with Short's Aster and two goldenrods, Elm-leaved and Blue-stemmed, at the base of an old oak.

The seeds of this rare Puccoon remind us that collecting and broadcasting them throughout good habitat is a crucial part of the Somme Plan. When we started, Somme Woods had perhaps a dozen plants, all in one small area. Now they're spread by the thousands over hundreds of acres. Yes, good. 

To some people perhaps, the "fall flora" refers just to plants in bloom. But we're at least equally inspired by the richness of seeds. :
Here, among asters, goldenrods, and others are the berries of Spikenard (purple) and Doll's Eyes (white and red). We let the birds eat some, and we gather some. Indeed we annually gather hundreds of gallons of rare seeds, those little "packages of the future" representing hundreds of species of plants. Then we broadcast them where they're not. That's how diversity gets new starts.

Remember those deer-eaten Forked Asters? They are Endangered in the Illinois and Wisconsin woodlands. The photo below is from a previous year with fewer deer:
Forked Aster is a surprise. I'd never seen it until Tom Vanderpoel found a little patch in a rich woods near Barrington. According to our approved plan, we restored this refugee species to Somme by throwing a few seeds in the right places at the right times. Now it's thriving by the thousands. The photo below shows a new patch just getting started:
After brush control and a burn, on mostly bare soil, it's flowering next to an irruption of weedy Beggars' Ticks. But the weeds are very temporary. Conservative sedges, asters, and others will soon out-compete them. 

On the other hand, we've found that the Forked Aster will do this:
The whole middle of this photo is Forked Aster, having wiped out all competition as it spread. Our hope, goal, and expectation is for diversity, not the monopoly of a species or two. And sure enough, as the restoration matures, the Endangered but temporarily over-exuberant Forked Aster increasingly plays well with others.

Not to suggest that all is well, or all goes according to plan, in this early stage of oak woodland restoration science. The photo below is from a series taken along a trail in 2013:
In this area, thanks to increased sunlight and lack of sufficient seed, the weedy Tall Goldenrod (C = 1) has taken over and suppressed most other species. We monitor it. When we photographed the same area again, in 2019 ...
... it was pretty much the same. Experiments are under way to deal with various monopolistic species. Bit by bit, we seem to be better and better ecosystem medics.

One last photo: 
They're gone - the bison and elk that once lived off the vegetation under our oldest oaks. But most of the species that once lived here are recovering a rich biodiversity that will be our generation's contribution to the people and planet of the future. 

Sunday, July 16, 2023

The Wild is Calling, and I Must Go.

by Dan Delaney 

“The mountains are calling, and I must go” is an oft-quoted statement by the naturalist and mountaineer John Muir. It’s a motto of those who want to get out there, to be immersed in nature, and often they head West. 

I was born in Chicago and love it but lived for four years in the Rockies during graduate school. The wildness of that place never left me. I was surrounded by people who were passionate about the mountains. Every Monday morning at school or work began with each of us recounting what we had done and where they had gone that weekend. For all of us, “the mountains” were shorthand for this total immersion in nature.

 

Since I’ve been back in Chicago I’ve hiked and camped the Midwest, canoed, become a windsurfer, become a birder. All of which has been great, but I had not in 40 years found the same immersion in the wild with others of a similar passion. That was until a good friend told me, “Dan, volunteer at this place called Somme. You’ll love it; it’s full of people like you – birders, backpackers, canoeists. Hurry up.”

 

Eighteen months ago, I followed him to Somme Woods, met that day’s team, and within minutes I was marching deep into the woods carrying a bow saw and a lopper. I spent three hours cutting down invasive buckthorn, sectioning dead ash trees and building up bonfires under the guidance of smart, friendly people. I was hooked. 

 

Surprisingly to me, one of the main ecological priorities at Somme is to remove invasive trees and burn them in bonfires. 
Now, each week my mind puts a different spin on Muir’s words. For me, it’s: The Wild is calling, and I must go.

So, what is Somme and what’s so special about it? 

 

Somme is nature, big enough to function for most species – and for me to get lost in.

It’s a combination of woodland, savanna, and prairie that totals 410 acres. And it’s in Northbrook! I had driven past it on Dundee Road many times and assumed it was a clutch of trees that would give way to houses in 30 yards or so. Far from it. It’s deep nature with rare ecosystems, endangered species, and mystery. East of Waukegan Road, it’s an open woodland, where we cut invasive brush to restore enough light for reproduction of the oaks, some of which are 200-300 years old. West of Waukegan is Somme Prairie Grove, where scattered oaks mingle with grasses that by August every year are taller than we are. Increasing numbers of rare animals and plants there show what 40 years of care by this team can do.

 

Somme is a cool culture

We come from all walks of life and all ages, from 16 to 80ish. It’s a warm and welcoming culture, and a learning culture, too. Your colleagues know a lot and can do a lot, but no one knows everything. We all encourage and need each other, so there are no dumb questions. You’re surprised at how much and how quickly you learn. Every workday has a ‘break time’ – an opportunity to sit on a stump or log and get to know each other. A core group comes regularly; others come when they can. When is the last time you made a new friend? I’ve made a dozen (and counting) at Somme.

 

Somme is a mission

We work together to restore ecosystems and biodiversity. Climate change and environmental degradation are massive global and national issues. Somme gives us a chance to take care of our part of the planet. We are restoring a prairie/savanna/woodland system so we’re keen to identify rare and native tree, shrub, wildflower, and grass species and help them thrive. Because we need to, we study. Muir’s full quote is, “The mountains are calling and I must go and I will work on while I can, studying incessantly.” At Somme we learn incessantly and put what we learn to work. We’re in touch with people at other sites doing similar work and discovering new ways to restore habitats and ecosystems.
This photo shows the crew gathering seeds.
It also shows the majesty of a thriving oak woodland.
Nice trees. Nice biodiversity. 

Somme is rugged

Somme gives you a chance to find your “inner Jack London.” Unlike London, writer of The Call of the Wild, you might at first see wilderness work in winter as challenging. But dress warm and you’ll find the experience initially thrilling, and then soon comfortable, to march into snowy woods from the trailhead with a bowsaw slung over your shoulder. We burn brush in bonfires and some of us actually cook food on them. Summer is for harvesting seeds and also the time for scything tall goldenrod, which can take over an area and blot out most other species. I was inspired to sketch the scene below to show how we work on such an area, bordered by railroad tracks frequented by freight trains. Falcons raising their young scream over our heads while we work. Laboring with an old scythe as a freight train passes does make you feel like you’re in a Jack London story. 



Somme feels easy

Volunteer work in Somme is well organized, by us volunteers. Each week there are three or four two- or three-hour “workdays”, and we’re notified by email about what’s planned for the coming week, together with compelling photos of the previous week’s sessions. Signing up for workdays via a simple reply couldn’t be easier. Some folks come every time. others come every couple months. Either way, your colleagues are always glad to see you.

 

Somme feels successful

Somme’s leaders have a plan, and it’s inspiring to feel a sense of progress week after week. Sometimes that feeling comes after a session when we’ve cleared the brush from a surprisingly large area. Other times, it comes when you return to an area where we spent months working and you’re almost shocked at the change: this former buckthorn thicket is now a riot of wildflowers and butterflies. Either way, Somme feels like a team sport, and we never lose. At the end of each session, we declare victory as a team.

 

Donna and Estelle hauling off a bag of invasive and malignant purple loosestrife.
It's a nasty invader, and they feel triumphant about conquering it.

Why Somme? Observations from the Crew : 

 

The Mission

“I’ve been hanging out in the woods ever since I was a kid. I used to ride my bike to the bike trails from Skokie to the North Branch trails. I ran away from home once, to the woods. I always enjoyed going to them. Now it’s a good way to contribute to making it nicer.” Russ

 

“More than anything. When I am outdoors, or camping and you know that feeling of awe, wonder or appreciation of beauty that you feel, when you are looking at a beautiful natural space. And I feel that that sensation sort of demands a response. And so, Somme is my way to do something about that feeling. Where I can help, I can act on it, I can get to know it better. It feels good to have a small tangible way that I can help serve the ecosystem of the whole world, but in my one tiny little way.” Steph

 

“I’ve been interested and concerned about climate change and I had always had a more global and super large scale view about fossil fuels and emissions. It just seemed so big, like I can vote about it but I can’t do much else except put my faith in the institutions to fix it. The knowledge that my presence there, my labor is going to restore an ecosystem; that’s something that I care about deeply. The knowledge that that’s what my three hours is going towards is great.” Josh, Jones Prep High School

 

“It was very hard to get my head around that there was no finishing point. And now I’m so accepting that this is just going to go on forever. We are never going to finish this job. We’re going to hand this off to Josh’s children. That took me a while to get that into my head, that this is so big.”  Estelle

 

“When I go to college this fall, I’ll be studying Environmental Science. Somme changed me. It helped me find a field I could be really interested in and take a chance on in college. It did that because it combined learning about the ecosystem and hands-on work.”  Andrew, Jones Prep High School

 

“When we are in an areas like Somme Prairie Grove and I hear, ‘This all used to be buckthorn’ it’s amazing to see beautiful areas of wild prairie plants growing. It awes me that it used to be so degraded and now is hugely beautiful. It sends shivers down my spine, the feeling that we’ve really made an improvement.”  Steve

 

The Experience

 

“I really like working with people. At Somme we talk a lot about what we’ve accomplished. I like collaborating a lot, especially to problem solve. It’s just so super exciting. When I come to Somme, I’m working with all these people who are super passionate, nice, and are thinking really hard about what we’re doing. I never doubt whether or not I am spending my time well. It feels like I’m doing the most important thing in the world.”   Rebeccah

 

“I had no idea what this entailed at first, but it was outside and sounded appealing. And I showed up and we picked stone seed in the Eagle Pond area. The seed made this delicious plinking sound when you put it in your bag. It was summer and I couldn’t hear or see any traffic. I was out in the middle of this big, beautiful place that I couldn’t believe was close to Chicago. I was pretty hooked.” Steph

 

“It’s cool that it reveals a whole other world that I never knew even existed before I started coming. It’s like you are united with all these people and everyone feels the same way about it that I do. Which is so cool, and you meet all these incredible people who bring their own expertise to it. It’s something special.”  Josh, Jones Prep High School

 

“When grade schools and high schools bring students out to Somme, there is a lot of opportunity for us to share our knowledge with the younger generation – to show them, teach them, work with them. I find that interesting, too.”  Steve

 

The Community

“You work with people from all different walks of life, from everywhere. People you wouldn’t normally run into. Different age groups, different religions, and races. I like the broad range of people. You can sit and talk to a high school kid like normal. When can you ever do that?”  Russ

 

“Oh my gosh, we have real friends that we’ve made out there. These are people I trust, enjoy being with, and if something came up and they needed something, I think that we’d all jump in and do whatever. It’s so cool.”  Estelle

 

“I think that people today are missing that sense of community, that something feels lacking. Somme fills that gap.”  Steph

 

“Without a doubt the community draws me to Somme. When you go there it’s a great mix of regulars and new volunteers. And you can clearly see them having a ball. They are working hard, but also catching up on the week. It’s like they are just hanging out with their friends. And that is really my favorite part, that you can do this cool work and also find a new community.”  Andrew, Jones Prep High School

 

Somme is calling

You don’t have to travel far to experience a total immersion in nature and heal a bit of Mother Earth with a group of fun and exceptional people. When I tell people what I’m doing, they often assume I’m volunteering in some other state. They can’t believe this is all so close to home.

 

Are you interested?

Just go down the road a little bit to Somme.

There’s a bow saw and a seed bag waiting.


One last photo
celebrating our break time treats
and a few of this post's characters.
The fellow who invited me to Somme, Fred Ciba, is serving the carrot cake.
I'm just above him and to the left.
To my left in the red coat is the quotable Steph Place.
Also quoted above, to her left, wearing the Indiana Jones hat, is Russ Sala.