This blog tells
what a steward notices
in the balmy cool of 6:00 AM to 8:00 AM
on a later-to-be 95-degree day.
My basic mission is to look for purple loosestrife and white
sweet clover, malignant invasives that, thanks to hard work, are now uncommon at Somme.
But in the first wetland,
rather than any loosestrife,
I find
the very rare American slough grass.
(There’s extra info on this
endangered-in-Illinois plant at the end of this blog.)
Here I’ll merely cite
the thrilling fact that you can recognize it
by its unusual seeds, flat and
round, and arranged on the stalk like stacks of coins.
I found this handsome grass
in six spots,
but the counts per
patch were low: 1, 1, 4, 1, 3, 1.
Some years we find hundreds. Other years we
find none.
It was good to see some.
The classy scientific name of American slough grass is Beckmannia syzigachne.
As I head up a wet swale, I find no evil invasives but do see signs of restoring biodiversity.
Where an ash died from the emerald ash borer, the flush of
light enables a riot of now-uncommon plants. Starry campion, Joe-Pye-weed, tall
coreopsis, ox-eye sunflower.
Another good sign
is many "new" populations
of Michigan lily –
a species
that didn't bloom
at Somme
for many years
when the deer population
was disastrously high.
Right by the lily,
what to my wondering eyes should
appear,
but three blooming plants of the rare
glade mallow,
Napaea dioica.
The ones at Somme
may be
the only glade mallows in Cook County.
We’ve never found
even one large, healthy,
blooming plant at Somme before now.
But more and more
in recent years
we’ve
found bigger and bigger specimens.
The problem for many years is that overpopulated deer
had been too hard on them.
This morning I find two patches – the first with three plants
and the second with two.
Five happiness.
Of course,
if I look down
below the flowers,
I find that
many
of the leaves
have been grazed off.
But just finding
five glade mallows
big
enough to bloom
is a great step
in the right direction.
And it’s a beautiful day.
As I walk,
I’m conflicted
about my
big human feet
treading on
the
richness.
Always I keep
to the trails
in the growing season, except when
I’m
stalking weeds
or doing seeds.
Being empowered
as a steward
gives me an odd
privilege.
When hunting
sweet clover,
I see beauty
and surprises
I wouldn’t otherwise
allow myself.
Plants here:
Butterflyweed.
Culver's root.
Early goldenrod.
Mountain mint.
What are these golden threads
creeping through the
vegetation?
Numerous times we’ve gotten warnings
from well-meaning people that
a sinister demon plant
was devastating the vegetation.
But it’s just our friend
dodder, Cuscuta glomerata,
a weird
but natural parasitic morning glory.
Strange plant: it has no leaves or roots.
When the seeds germinate, the shoot immediately attaches to nearby vegetation
and sucks out nutrients.
Soon its waxy white flowers
will bedeck the graceful flaxen
stems.
For a while the whole plant will be just stems
and flowers. Later it
will be stems and seed.
Does it do harm? No. It creates a disturbance.
A beautiful
disturbance, if you look close.
The ecosystem is adapted to it.
Other plants
will take the places of the ones
it sets back, and a diverse cycle will
proceed.
Ooops.
Next I do
finally find
the evil sweet clover.
See the white sprays
of pea flowers?
Does it look threatening here?
If not, know that
twenty
years ago,
acres here were blighted and degraded
by solid waist or chest-high stands of it.
Now I pull out
the 48
plants
in this first patch.
A large plant can make 60,000 seeds.
Good riddance.
The soil is damp,
and the roots
come out easily.
Seeds
haven’t formed yet,
so I don’t need to haul plants
out of the preserve.
I toss piles
where they'll do the least harm -
in this case
into a patch of
the somewhat aggressive
saw-tooth sunflower.
a few
days ago, drying on a log.
The Somme Team rousted them
one cool morning.
I love to do this work
with friends, trading thoughts. I also love to follow up for later bloomers,
alone in wilderness reverie. It’s all good.
This dead pile, near the trail,
could be ugly to passers-by.
I hope many will see it as an indication of the commitment that results in the whole being so increasingly beautiful, year after year.
In fact,
I find five
clover patches.
I map them
and file it,
so we can
remember to
check these spots
on some beautiful
July morning
next year.
This one is
great St. John’s wort, taller than I.
Fat ovaries
with five sticky stigmas on top of each...
hiding under
a tangle
of pollen-y
stamens.
I find bugs too.
But I don’t try
to photograph them
with my
little cell phone.
To represent them,
this is one of Lisa Culp’s
recent daily masterpieces.
What kind of strange flies
are these?
What’s their role in
the ecosystem?
I pass a skunk,
a crayfish,
a plains garter snake,
and countless
engaging bugs.
But now it’s getting hot,
so off I go to other work.
But hey! If you get cabin fever from air-conditioning, try
mornings in nature. They’re pretty nice.
Post Script
Here are promised tidbits
on American slough grass, Beckmannia syzigachne.
The light-shaded counties show where
it’s known from.
Not many places in Illinois.
Most populations are now gone.
The grass is an annual.
It’s adapted to something. Fire?
Most marshes don’t get
burned much. These at Somme do.
We’ll see if it can survive here.
Illinois is far from the main populations of this grass.
Our plants may have genetic adaptations that don’t exist elsewhere. At some point in
history, human culture may need something from this plant that could save some
other grass (for example corn, wheat, rice, or oats) from a devastating disease
or pest. Or these plants may have some nutrient that could be bred into grains to help our food make us
healthier – or smarter for that matter.
So we’d be smart
not to just let it
go
extinct.
The thoughts of a steward on a cool walk at the start of a hot day. Peace.
6 comments:
It is wonderful to walk along with you as you pass through and comment. Your photos and thoughts together create an intimate atmosphere of being there. It is always a gift to see through your eyes.
I just love hearing your thoughts about nature. It inspires me! :) Thank you for sharing.
Hi Stephen, I have noticed that Prairie Dodder (Cuscuta pentagona) is parasitic on Tall Goldenrod (Solidago altissima). I have been thinking in might be wise to collect seed of Prairie Dodder and sow it into patches of Tall Goldenrod. This might save you from needing to mow Tall Goldenrod which would allow you to concentrate on other priorites.
Sincerely,
James
Cynthia and Carol,
Thanks for the good insights. I feel some reciprocal thoughts. It's a pleasure to feel in touch with people who might read the blog as I walk, see, search.
The modern Community of the Lovers of Nature is indebted to the Internet. One hundred years ago, this kind of sharing could go on only through letters, conversations, and books. Today we have the potential for this community of sharing to engage larger numbers of far-flung people. I hope we develop abilities to make the best uses of these pro-community tools.
James,
Very interesting idea. A good experiment for someone. Sadly that species doesn't seem to live (or have lived) in my area.
On the other hand, it seems to me that I've seen our local dodder also living on the pestiferous tall goldenrod. Perhaps we should try seeding dense patches of it with "gronovii" - our most common local dodder. Swink and Wilhelm list tall goldenrod as one of its host plants too.
Thanks for the creative idea.
Hi Stephen, The plant I saw parasitizing Tall Goldenrod was probably Common Dodder (Cuscuta gronovii). I honestly have not keyed out the species. The other plant that was being used as a host is Tall Boneset (Eupatorium altissimum). This observation was just in from the trail head at Bluff Spring Fen when you are heading toward the smaller kame. It seems Rope Dodder (Cuscuta glomerata) might also be useful for reducing other plants you find aggressive like Sawtooth Sunflower (Helianthus grosseserratus).
Sincerely,
James
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