Adventures with ecosystem recovery,
considered with nostalgia, reverence, and hope -
in the cold of winter.
Vestal Grove was home to little or no trout lily when we started. But we've thrown seed around,
and once a plant's established it spreads underground dramatically.
Hairy and elegant, stargrass is one that's hard to restore by seed,
because the seed is so hard to get.
We've been raising hundreds in a garden, harvesting a little seed,
but mostly digging and planting out garden-raised bulbs
in widely scattered prairie, savanna, and woods areas.
Bit by bit, dropping their own seed year after year, they spread.
Where we once had none, we now see scores of recruits as much as five or ten feet from those original bulbs.
The first little purple leaves of prairie betony are often the first spring color we see. Betony is now widespread, because the seeds are easy to gather, and they do very well.
As the central buds unfold, large areas will be bright yellow.
They seem to provost diversity of conservative plants.
Those fringy green leaves to the left are rattlesnake master.
Shooting star is in no rush.
From seed, it takes a plant about ten years to grow big enough to bloom in the competition of the wild. When we started at Somme Prairie Grove we had only a few single plants. We've gathered some seed from each, and we let some blow around the parent plants. Now we have hundreds - new plants widely scattered - and big patches where the original ones were.
Of cream false indigo, we had none at Somme Prairie Grove. We scattered seed from rare remnants where it survived. Now there are hundreds. These days they spread their own seed by rolling like tumble weeds when dry in fall.
(We also pick and scatter a lot, gathered early, before the weevils eat most of it.)
A few plants of veiny wild pea showed up in our early surveys.
Then we saw not a one for decades. Deer eat it.
Then in 2012, one plant showed itself where we'd been scything tall goldenrod.
We put a cage on it, and in 2013 it was many stems needing many cages. Inspired and looking carefully, we found three more plants widely scattered. Now they all have cages and are patches with scores of stems spread ten or twenty feet from those original survivors.
Better solutions are needed to reduce over-populated deer.
We have so many close-ups of the prairie white-fringed orchid.
Lisa decided to try to capture its relationship to the ecosystem.
Other plants, most visible here, if you look close, include Dudley's rush, beard-tongue, gray dogwood, saw-tooth sunflower, spiderwort, Virginia mountain mint, and compass-plant.
Characteristic of only the highest quality prairies, our few prairie lilies are still widely scattered. A few survived at Somme Prairie but none in the savannas of Somme Prairie Grove.
At Somme Prairie, we found six in 1998 but only two in 2007.
We started caging them from the deer and sending some the resulting seed to the Chicago Botanic Garden - which started new bulbs for us - which we then planted in the preserves.
In 2019, steward Eriko Kojima carefully monitored and found 43 plants blooming in Somme Prairie and 53 plants blooming in Somme Prairie Grove.
Dr. Betz always told us that Leiberg's panic grass typifies the finest prairies.
This species has spread massively for us from the limited seed we've gathered. Its chocolate stamens and feathery pistils make gorgeous flowers, if you study them close up.
Thickets of native shrubs and vines are now mostly replaced by buckthorn.
Wild plum flowers may be beautiful. The fruits also have eye beauty - in addition to mouth beauty.
Here in a tangle with grapes they remind us of how crucial mammals are to the savanna.
Mammal disperse big seeds. Big fruits and nuts are designed for mammals.
Of cardinal flower, we had very few, and mostly the deer ate them. We salvaged a few seeds
and gave them to Bill Valentine who propagated them in his yard.
Bill returned massive amounts of seed and now these beauties are plentiful in many areas.
Red flowers have a long-evolved relationship with hummingbirds.
A celebrity for us in 2013 was rough white lettuce.
We'd never seen it bloom at Somme Prairie Grove. But it wasn't a surprise, since we finally found nearby native seed and grew the corms for transplant. In this case, the seeds blow widely
with the wind in their parachutes. It will be a treat to see where the new colonies appear.
Spoiler alert, once again, we haven't seen this species for years.
Savanna blazing star is recognized by a) long stalks on the flower heads
and b) flat, green leafy bracts. After much conservation work,
this species may be ready to come off the Illinois threatened list.
Hint to plant fans: there's an animal in this photo. Look carefully.
When we started, we thought no black-soil fringed gentians survived within out 15-mile seed-gathering limit. So we made a deal with Dr. Betz, and Larry Hodak harvested 6 capsules
from Markham Prairie. We paid back the seed with interest
when nearly 200 plants thrived at Miami Prairie that very first year.
Being annuals, they're vulnerable to difficult weather and over-abundant deer.
Some years we've seen none. Some years we see thousands.
When I see a shot like this, I wish I was a pollinator. I want nectar. I want pollen.
Are the fringes just decoration? No, they're there to ward off pilfering ants.
Only welcome here are flying insects that spread the genes from plant to plant.
The prairie gentian is our last flower of fall.
Its color is so achingly deep.
Except when warm sunniness inspires the pollinators to fly, this gentian twists to close up tight.
Bottle gentian never opens at all. Only bumblebees are strong enough to get inside and pollinate.
Gentians protect themselves from crawling bugs, perhaps just too numerous by late fall.
Over evolutionary time, three gentian species came up with three solutions.
Photos by Lisa Culp Musgrave in 2013. Thanks, Lisa, for another year's worth of visual treasure
to love and ponder.
Some species accounts updated in 2024.
7 comments:
These photos strike a deep emotional chord on a cold, snowy day like today. What beauty. Can't wait for the coming growing season.
The difficulty with Yellow Star Grass is not establishing it from seed. Stewards in my area of the county have been successful with sowing the seed directly into old cropland. The real difficulty with Yellow Star Grass is collecting the seed. The small plants are almost impossible to find once the grasses have grown tall. We must mark the plants when they are blooming so we can relocate them later in the thick vegetation. We then must get back to the site to collect the seed during the short period between when the seeds are ripe and when they disperse. For some stewards, an even bigger challenge than collecting the seed is getting permission to collect seed from a site with a large population. One local steward was only able to collect 10 seeds from the small scrap of prairie that he was given permission to utilize. The difficulty in obtaining permission to collect seed is rather disconcerting considering a number of nearby high quality sites have many hundreds of Yellow Star Grass plants in the space of a mere square meter. In contrast, the scraps of prairies stewards are frequently relegated to for seed collection only have a few widely spaced plants which produce so little seed that the small reward is not worth the large effort required.
"A picture's worth a thousand words," but your words, Stephen, give my pictures much more meaning and depth and relevance to our mission in the Chicago area. Thank you!!
@ Daniel and Lisa: thanks for the comments on aesthetics, spirit, and all sacred intangibles. They make a big difference. It would be great if we were better at articulating those values for others to consider.
@ James. I totally agree that the problem with seeding yellow star grass is getting the seed. Sue Gorr at Deer Grove East marked a patch with red yarn. Even with yarn of the individual plants, it was tricky to find and harvest those seeds. I have a patch in my garden with hundreds of plants, and we harvest quite a bit of seed from there. But this species (mostly missing from restorations) is a major part of the spring vegetation in many fine remnants. Despite the challenges, we keep plugging away. It would be great if someone invented a restoration procedure that was magically better.
Seed gardening is one solution to the problem. However, this takes a commitment of many years.
The trick to relocating the often hard to find spring ephemerals is to make a map on graph paper showing were they are located. The location of the plants can be referenced to a fence post, rock, or other landmark. If no landmark is readily available then just having the pattern of the plant's locations can help you relocate additional plants once one has been found. If you know where to look, it becomes much easier to find those small markers in the tall grass.
Another solution is to use survey flags to mark the location of plants. I do not use survey flags when working in areas where people could be expected to visit because everyone either removes the flags or tramples the area trying to figure out what is being flagged.
There is no magic procedure that will make the process easier. The simple fact is the forest preserve districts need to make the same level of commitment toward getting their volunteers permission to collect seed as their volunteers have been giving. I am confident the Nature Preserve Commission would be very helpful with the process.
Stewards also need to realize that the preserves are not their personal property. It is not a Steward’s role to give or deny permission for the transfer of seed from a site.
The current system of barter between stewards seems to be too much like the worst of politics. The results being quid pro quo, permission only provided to favored people, denying permissions for any purpose, and at times the decisions even appears to be an act of personal revenge. The result of all this is an obstruction of the purpose that originally compelled people to volunteer.
Tremendous work! These pictures serve as an inspiration for all Illinois conservationists.
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