Sunday, October 08, 2017

A Second Chance for the Fringed Gentian (Gentianopsis crinita)

There were none surviving in our area when we started learning to be forest preserve stewards in 1977. Early botanists Higley and Raddin considered fringed gentian (Gentianopsis crinita) to be "frequent or common, locally" in 1891. Herman Pepoon documented populations in the north suburbs in his 1927 flora, but he called it “doomed by its beauty,” noting that it was “rapidly vanishing before the onslaughts of the commercial flower gatherer.  Not one today where there were hundreds when the above was first written.”

As we worked to restore nature, we looked for all the missing plants that used to live here. We found seed sources nearby, for example along the railroads, which harbored a great many of the rarest plants, and we found most species, but we never found a fringed gentian.

In 1979, we gratefully harvested six gentian seed capsules from Markham Prairie with the approval of Dr. Robert F. Betz, its steward and our mentor. Actually, we asked Dr. Betz to “borrow” that seed.

We spread the seed in what looked like a good area of Miami Woods Prairie. This plant is a biennial. That is, in its first year it grows just a little "rosette" of leaves that lie flat on the ground - and saves energy and nutrients in its roots. Then in its second year, it puts up a flowering stalk and, if all goes well, makes a lot of seed and dies. Only the seeds live over that winter. And thus, at Miami Woods, the miracle occurred, and in 1981 one hundred and fifty seven gentian plants bloomed – a triumph!

Then tragedy – the deer quickly ate more than half of them. (In later years, I think we would have scattered the seeds around more - rather than putting them all in one patch.) But, somehow, the deer didn’t continue on to eat the other half. So we ended up with hundreds of capsules – enough to repay Markham and Dr. Betz and to spread the seed widely in three other prairies: Bunker Hill, Wayside, and Somme Prairie Grove. 

In 1982 we noticed no gentians. Was that early success a fluke? But in 1983 we found them blooming in all four preserves. Small numbers only. But they offered hope.

I began to monitor the gentians annually, when I got a chance. The numbers below describe the beginnings of the gentian’s second chance – in the North Branch preserves.

Number of Fringed Gentians at Four Preserves

 Bunker Hill
      0 = I checked and found no plants.
- = I didn’t have time to check carefully. I was busy.
      * = According to a note, all the plants in 1984 were “small and pathetic.”

In his 1910 wildflower book, Chester Reed wrote that this gentian “because of its exquisite beauty and comparative rarity, is one of the most highly prized of our wildflowers.” Then, after a few lines of poetry, he went on to write, “The Fringed Gentian is rather a fickle plant; we may find it in a certain locality one year and then search in vain for it for the next few years.”  

Ahh, yes. This handsome character is unusual among the conservative prairie flora. It is a biennial. Most often when we find it, every plant nearby has deep perennial roots or fat tubers that tide plants over in times of drought or deer onslaughts.

Fringed gentian is a gambler. The seed lies in the soil until each smart little embryo somehow senses the time is right. How does it predict the rains? Or does it wait until nearby plants have been weakened by something? Or what is it that triggers the germination of these seeds?

In any case, unpredictably, our fringed beauty was now “off and running.” But did we have a problem - as a result of starting with just six capsules? How much genetic breadth was among them? Dr. Betz used to tell us how striking it was that this gentian came and went – often showing up in very different places from year to year. We had a start with one source. We should keep working to find other sources.

Fortunately, we learned from Barbara Turner that years ago some Long Grove folks had “rescued” fringed gentians when Chevy Chase Prairie in nearby Buffalo Grove was destroyed. It’s worth noting here the significance of those Long Grove folks. When Barbara Turner was a young woman, she took a course at the Morton Arboretum, where she met the great May Theilgaard Watts. Watts – like the visionary landscape architect Jens Jensen – had Danish heritage and brought to America the treasure of Scandinavian nature culture. Barbara often quoted Watts; when doing so she showed a reverence in her tone and expression. I would like to include in this post copies of two beautiful letters Watts wrote to Barbara (in the 1950s?). She gave me copies of those letters, but who knows where they are in all my piles of stuff. For now, it will have to suffice that, from memory, I can say that Watts visited the Long Grove woods and its people. She praised and encouraged those folks. That community in support of nature was still thriving in the mid 70s when Chevy Chase Prairie (said to be the finest black-soil surviving in Illinois) was intentionally bulldozed by its owner. Those Long Grove folks rescued many species from bulldozed piles of prairie turf, including gentians, and brought them to prairies they were restoring. Thus it came to pass that the great Barbara Turner (heroine of other stories that need to be told) gave a second source of local fringed gentian seeds to us. So now, the North Branch gentians are a mix of Markham and Chevy Chase genes.    
This gentian was stepped on by some deer or person earlier in the year and is lying half on its side. But it has about 50 thriving flowers and seems well on its way to making about 30,000 seeds. If the deer don't eat it. Every year is a drama.

Over the decades, I stopped finding time to monitor gentians, but I'd check in on them occasionally at Somme Prairie Grove, where I was now steward. Somme's fringed gentians seemed to be entirely absent some years – and just a few in the others. So when Lisa Culp Musgrave started visiting Somme and becoming a fine photographer there, I asked her if she might like me to teach her how to be a steward for one of our most photogenic plants.

She hesitated – and then plunged in. Starting in 2008, she first made six deer-exclusion cages and placed them over six big and beautiful gentians, as I had suggested. (We noticed that the deer had already eaten many that year.) Too excited to stay away for long, Lisa returned soon to check her work.  She found that all six of her caged beauties had been cut down and killed by voles. But she had seen the vole-exclusion cages that I had been using to protect a related species (the prairie gentian, which we had even fewer of), and she started making many vole excluders to protect the smaller (but now even more precious) gentians that were still uncut and blooming hopefully. With the double caging, many happily set seed. That fall, Lisa and I triumphantly broadcast some of the matured embryos in places where the existing flora suggested they might do well. The results are apparent in the graph below:
This graph shows "The Lisa Bump." She took over care for this species in 2008.
A dedicated person can make a big difference (and enjoy life at the same time!). 

Actually, truth to tell, Lisa did such a splendidly spectacular job on the gentians that I started feeling weird about it. We had so many other species that were so much rarer and needier. I feared I’d misled her.

When Lisa tells the story, she claims that I gave her a trivial exercise to see if she was any good. That’s not right, although I suppose it is true that I didn’t want to turn over my work on “super high priority” species to someone I hardly knew. In any case, now I had to convince her that she was carving out so much more time than I seemed to have – and was doing so much better a job – that she really, please, should do less gentian work and, pretty please, take over the federal endangered prairie white-fringed orchid. The great Lisa Culp Musgrave is now famous as an orchid steward; that Somme drama is described at: 

And her gradual moving on from the gentian provided another experiment. Could this formerly doomed beauty, with its numbers well bulked up, then make it on its own?
Deer have eaten almost all the flowers off this gentian. If it keeps up, such plants will die without setting seed.
Eriko Kojima caged a few last year and this. What would happen if we stopped?  
I have no great confidence that this fickle species will be permanently part of the Somme ecosystem. It may or may not. At this point, our fringed gentians seem to do well some years in two very different situations. After we’ve cut the brush in a semi-wet area, now with very low competition, it can bloom by the hundreds, if some steward takes the trouble to harvest some seeds and broadcast them. But also in some years it does well in certain of our very highest quality areas, where you'd think competition would be the most challenging.

Could it be that, once we get some seeds waiting in the soil, this once common species will thrive in now-rare high-quality wet-ish prairies and open woods?

In most recent years, we haven’t found time to monitor them. Lisa's been busy. I've been busy. But other folks have pitched in from time to time. In 2011, we did monitor, and we found 194. In 2014 it was 845. Then this year, after no counts for two years, we found 415 in a dozen widely separated areas.

The clock is running, and it’s still early in the game. This population is only 34 years old. 

It's been a pleasure. Bless them. 

PS: If you’d like to read about these gentians in spectacularly more technical detail, a more detailed gentian post that covers additional questions is at Somme’s “less fun blog” – Strategies for Stewards:  

Monday, September 11, 2017

The Return of a Frog

We hope that the Somme Preserves recover as much of their nature as possible - with our assistance. Years ago I ran across old records that suggested that leopard frogs had lived there. We never see them, although they are a species that tend to be visible - as in summer they leave the ponds for meadows (an alternate name is the "meadow frog"). A leopard frog leaping dramatically away as a you walk through a meadow used to be a familiar experience - for those who walk through meadows.

For my first 20 years at Somme, I never saw a one - and feared they were gone. Each year as our ephemeral ponds dry up, we often check the final little puddles on their last days, to see what has concentrated there. About 15 years ago, in one grassy pond in Somme Prairie Grove, I was amazed to see tadpoles much bigger than the chorus frog and spring peeper tadpoles we usually find. They turned out to be leopard frog tads, which we discovered after we scooped up as many as we could and brought them home in a little of the meager remaining water, in a styrofoam cup that was lying around. We then installed them in an aquarium which we filled with water from another nearby pond. (That pond had water but no tadpoles, as it was in the dark buckthorn woods.) Next day the grassy pond that the tads came from was dry, and all the little frog and salamander larvae we didn't manage to rescue were dead, and not smelling good, sadly.
What is this leopard frog doing in the bottom of a plastic bag?
The answer to this and other mysteries will be revealed below. 
As stewards, we consulted with Forest Preserve staff. Typically, it's not good to mess with frogs. Many amphibians are being wiped out by diseases. Transferring them between ponds is a way to spread the deadly diseases. But in this case, with all the ponds being in one forest preserve, and frogs most likely journeying between them, everyone thought it seemed okay to use that water from the nearby pond. The leopard frogs must have somehow been surviving in very small numbers. Later we learned that one wooded pond across Waukegan Road with some grassy habitat held water long enough for leopard frog tadpoles to mature. One female must have crossed the busy street to try out the grassy pond. We raised the tads and let them go in the meadow by the pond they came from - and never saw a trace of them again.

But when we learned to monitor breeding frogs by their calls, we did, rarely, on some years, hear a leopard frog or two calling from that deeper pond in Somme Woods. There aren't many.

Now, the strange experience of yesterday, September 10, 2017.
I was mowing our lawn, two streets south of Somme Woods.
Our yard tends to have longer and shaggier grass that most houses on our block.
About half of the former lawn is now glorious perennial "gardens" of rare plants cultivated from local seed, to grow more seed, for restoration.

As I mowed, a large leopard frog jumped away from the mower.
This was the first (except for those tadpoles) I'd seen, despite spending great amounts of time at Somme for four decades.
In fall, the frogs return to their ponds. When it's finally cold enough for them to hibernate, they go down into the mud at the bottom and dream until spring.
Dundee Road is a busy street.
I popped the little fellow in a bag to give him a walk home.

It's not easy - to be a person - trying to do right by a frog.
Perhaps I should have left it there?

According to the Wikipedia write up:

"The northern leopard frog is a fairly large species, reaching about 11 cm (4.3 in) in snout-to-vent length. They normally inhabit water bodies with abundant aquatic vegetation. In the summer, they often abandon ponds and move to grassy areas … (They) breed in the spring. Up to 6500 eggs are laid in water, and tadpoles complete development within the breeding pond. Northern leopard frogs are preyed upon by many different animals, such as snakes, raccoons, other frogs, and even humans. They do not produce distasteful skin secretions and rely on speed to evade predation. They eat a wide variety of animals, including crickets, flies, worms, and smaller frogs. Using their large mouths, they can even swallow birds and garter snakes. In one case, a bat was recorded as prey of this frog."

Okay, that's weird.

I carried it back to one of the grassy areas that have been improving as habitat over the years at Somme Woods - near the pond where we occasionally hear leopard frogs in spring. I put the bag down and opened it so the little survivor could jump away.

Often, when given their freedom, animals of many kinds are dubious about making their move.
This one sat for minutes, as I waited, more or less patiently, happy about about finally making its acquaintance. 
After a while, it walked a few inches outside the bag, and then, again, sat tight.

When it finally made its jump, it moved so fast the my eye could barely follow.
I had put my camera on "video" - and this shot and the next are stills from that video.

This is how much an iPhone captures of a jumping leopard frog.
Good for you, frog!

And this is the last and happiest photo of all.
The frog is now near its pond and possibly thinking about more tadpoles next spring. 

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Somme Woods East - Progress Report

Parts of Somme East are now looking like this:
Cardinal flowers, great blue lobelias and sweet black-eyed Susans
bedazzle an understory that had been largely dead for decades. 
This richness, so far, just covers a few acres, in little patches, here and there. But the change is dramatic, when you compare to nearby areas that are as empty of life as they were for decades.
This area was similar to the one shown above - before restoration started. A few old oaks are present.
Few or no wildflowers - little wildlife. No reproduction of the canopy oaks.
Young trees and shrubs are the invasive and malignant buckthorn. 
Pull back from that first flowery photo, and we get this:
That big tree in the background is a swamp white oak.
The relationship between this oak and the herb layer is key to this ecosystem. 
The swamp white oak (Quercus bicolor), like the cardinal flower and blue lobelia, grows in some of the wettest parts of the woods. In the decades since the natural fires were ended by our culture, this tree has suffered. Its lower limbs were slowly killed by shade of invading pole trees. In a sustainable, natural (fire-maintained) woodland, this oak would have had enough sun to maintain life in many of those lower branches. (Technically speaking, it would have been a "woodland grown" tree - rather than a "forest grown" or "open grown" tree. These days, a woodland grown tree is a rare jewel.)

The amputated limbs aren't just ugly. The flowers in this photo aren't just beautiful. In a sustainable natural system (like what we're trying to restore), this sunny matrix would also support little, reproducing swamp white oaks among the wildflowers. The future of the oaks is tied to the diverse flowers, grasses, and sedges that form the nursery bed of the next generation. In contrast, on bare ground, fast-growing trees like cottonwood or box elder win out. Oaks thrive on challenges. Their thick bark withstands fire. Their large seeds compete in a competitive turf.

Equally important - the diverse plants are interdependent with diverse (now rare) animals.

As you may know, last winter we cut - and next winter we will continue to cut - invading trees out from under the oaks. But that's just the first step. Below, check out a photo of a bit of woods that had its big buckthorns cut in the winter of 2016/17.
What's wrong with this picture?
See all those little green seedlings and re-sprouts? They are nearly all buckthorns and other invasives. This year, they're a few inches tall. Within a few years, they'd be a few feet tall. Our next step is to prepare the ground for planting by herbiciding that pestilence of young invasives.

Below, you can see an area where the invasive sprouts have been herbicided.
With the buckthorn sprouts gone, this area can be planted with diverse seed this fall.
The above photo also shows a meter tape and a quarter-meter hoop. We study the results of various treatments. Here we are "sampling a transect" to follow the progress of the restoration.

If you're not familiar with "sampling a transect" - here's how we do it. We permanently mark a line through the woods. In this case, the line goes from tree, to tree, to easily findable tree. Then we put the sampling hoop beside the tape at the five, ten, fifteen, etc. meter mark. We identify all plant species present and estimate the area covered by each species' leaves. We record both. As you can see, taking the "before" data doesn't take us long.

The line, in this case, starts in an area where the main cutting and herbiciding has already been completed, and then runs through the area shown below:
Here, as in most of Somme Woods, you must fight your way through solid buckthorn. Here no restoration has yet been done. This is a true "before" sample. Here we record a lot of buckthorn.
Our first two "anchor trees" were white oaks. the next tree was a bur oak (above). This mighty giant still has some of its lower limbs - dead but still holding on. For a century, it has not reproduced. When shade builds up, the bur oaks are the first to stop reproducing. Their seedlings require the most light.
We record the circumference of each anchor tree along with the distance and direction from the previous anchor.

Since this is a progress report, two more photos seem needed:
Doll's eyes seeds reaching out of their cage
Since it's September, now at every fall workday we'll have one team gathering seeds and another cutting brush. The seeds above are reaching out of a cage that protected their leaves from hungry and over-abundant deer. Somme volunteers divide up the work. Some cage; some burn; some saw.
Doll's eyes seeds, bagged for action.
Some seeds might wait for decades to make it on their own, around our hundreds of acres. They need you! The hunter gatherer. Please join in, whenever the spirit moves you.

Sunday, August 06, 2017

Somme Prairie Grove tour: Early August

August 6, 2017 - the 40th anniversary of the first North Branch "workday." 
About 20 people in three groups toured Somme Prairie Grove.

The points where we stopped to talk:

At the end of this post is a list of the plants in bloom along the trail, point by point.

The Somme ecosystem explodes up in mid-summer. Back in early July, the vegetation was rich, but compact. Before we look at today's photos, let's look at two from mid July:
July 10: the flowers and grasses were mostly knee-high.
In bloom here: butterflyweed, leadplant, wild quinine, and black-eyed Susan.
July 28: the gayfeather (spiked blazing star) is in full bloom with rattlesnake master, Culver's root,
and sweet black-eyed Susan - all twice as tall as the flowers on July 10. But the explosion is just starting. 

On August 6, the big bluestem grass is well over the head of co-steward Eriko Kojima.
The blazing stars, Culver's roots, and rattlesnake masters are well down underneath the grass. 
Point 1 
A month ago, the prairie grasses were up to our waists. Today in some places, they’ll be well over our heads. The main tall grasses in this section will be big bluestem (turkey foot top) and switchgrass (delicate, wide-spreading heads).

Point 2 
Bright ribbons around trees here show where the Illinois Natural History Survey and Forest Preserve District staff are studying Somme Prairie Grove as a model for the Next Century Conservation Plan
This area has too many pole trees. (More and better woods photos later.)

Point 3 
Seeds are forming on some of early-season bloomers. Notice here, seeds from New Jersey tea, white false indigo, meadow parsnip (Thaspium), and golden Alexanders. 
We’ll soon gather, prep, and broadcast these seeds to spread them to needy areas.

Point 4 
Our youngest ecologist spotted a snake sunning in the bush here. Good job, Cormick.
This is a good place to look at the major habitats at SPG: thickets (here), prairie-like openings, woodlands, savanna, wetlands

This thicket is becoming more “natural” through a lot of work. Is that "gardening" or ecological restoration? We discuss.

Think about this area: 2,000 years ago. The bison and wolves were in the prairies. Deer, elk, and mountain lions were mostly in the woods and savannas. The bison prefer the prairie because they eat mostly grass. The deer in the summer eat mostly wildflowers; in the winter they eat mostly the live bark of twigs (browse). The elk ate all those categories.

Point 5 
Parts of Somme have been utterly degraded, ecologically. This area was clear-cut and plowed. All the trees are young. But many species survived in nearby remnants (like the woods edges we've just passed though and the too-wet-to-plow swale edge just north of us). So when the Forest Preserve District bought the land, the species of these remnant areas started to spread. Later the stewards brought in seed of the species that hadn't survived here.

The historic larger trees in this savanna were mostly bur oaks. Today the trees in this disturbed area are mostly scarlet oaks. That's because the scarlets are dispersed over distances by blue jays. (Heavy bur oak acorns aren’t. Squirrels disperse these bigger, heavier ones. But squirrels don't venture far out into the prairies or pastures. Thus, bur oak doesn't get restored by squirrels until other trees are established -to serve as highways for the squirrels.) But bur oaks are needed here. They are the heart of the savanna. They have the thick bark that withstands enough fire to make the savanna. We already see the thinner barked scarlet and white oaks being burned down. So we help out the recovery of the few bur oak saplings that we do find (see below), and we help the squirrels move acorns.
The bur oak “recruits” you see here were protected from the deer in cages until they were tall enough to escape (both mouths and antlers).
More basswood here should be cut, but we didn’t want to lose too much shade too early.
Distinctive plants here: starry campion, Kalm’s brome, pale Indian plantain.
Note the cage that helped this bur oak get tall enough to be above deer browse height.
 The controlled burn this spring was hot enough to "cook" its finer branches.
But, despite natural setbacks, this tree is vigorously becoming part of the structure of the savanna.
Don't be impatient, just give it one hundred years or so.
In this area, notice many caged oaks and many more un-caged burned scarlet and bur oaks down in the grass. Re-sprouting, burned-off oaks are a natural part of the savanna. 

This is one of the areas where Forest Preserve staff ecologists have been collecting scientific data.
To the left is Deborah Antlitz, and to the right is Monica Mueller.

The data will help set standards for more ambitious restoration initiatives. 
Point 6. Summit: Coyote Knob – good and gravelly reminder of the glacier. This gravel hill was deposited here by the glacier - about 12,000 years ago.

In the cages are now-rare prairie gentians (which need protection from deer and voles if they are to make enough seed to recover their numbers).

In bloom here also is: Solidago (or Aster) ptarmacoides. It it an aster or a goldenrod? Scientific knowledge of the ecosystem is so rudimentary that we haven’t even known which genus to put this plant into.

Our endangered “slender wheat grass” and "bearded wheat grass" (very tall and thin grasses, both of which we've been seeing along the trail) have recently been re-classified twice. A few years ago they were a wheat (Agropyron). When they were made an Illinois Endangered species, they were re-classified as a rye (Elymus). Anyone hungry for rye bread? Then the new Flora of the Chicago Region announced them with a third genus (Roegneria).

We humans know the moon’s geography better than the floor of Earth's ocean. Similarly, our knowledge of space and particle physics has increased vastly more rapidly than our knowledge of the ecosystem. Space has military implications. The ecosystem doesn’t get that kind of attention – though it’s so much more crucial to our lives, futures, and peace. Just a thought.

As we enter the stretch of trail shown by a dashed line of the map, we’ll walk a trail maintained only by feet. Experience the savanna wilderness.

Point 7. The Party Spot: this little area has a great history. When we first started restoring this site, it was littered with old car seats, milk crates, vehicle tracks, and beer bottles and cans. It was a teen party spot. All around it were dense invasive trees and brush. After we cleaned up  and thinned the brush, it was a pretty opening, and we began to notice many rare plants surviving here. It was on the edge of an old fence line, and the "partying" kept the brush at bay to some degree (by trampling and cutting wood for camp fires). That actually helped preserve some species - like the threatened small sundrops, shooting star, violet wood sorrel, poverty oaks, etc. It seems likely that it was open enough to be picked as a party spot because the soil had eroded away.  Thus, it had both challenges and surviving ecological riches. We scattered seed, and it is now one of the botanically richest areas - in part perhaps because the brush never killed off the turf and its soil biota.  

Point 8. Cross the Central Swale again. Notice three more-or-less distinct bands of vegetation:
In the swale (wet prairie): cord grass, sedges, swamp milkweed, Indian hemp, blue vervain
Next band (wet-mesic prairie): saw-tooth sunflower, Culver’s root, big bluestem, switchgrass
Next band (mesic prairie): little bluestem grass, dropseed grass, leadplant, prairie clovers, bush clovers

A beautiful but strange (and temporary?) woods. See below. 
Point 9. The woods along the western edge are all artificial in that they consist entirely of invaders and inappropriate species planted long ago by Forest Preserve staff - before restoration and conservation were well understood. Some of the planted trees were birch, pine, black locust and other non-savanna species, which we removed decades ago. But many of the planted trees were white oaks. White oaks are "natural" and make "ecological sense" on the east side of the moraine here. But this area was originally most likely the openest part of the prairie and savanna border - with the only trees being bur and scarlet oaks. Cutting down all these big old white oaks seemed like a lot of work - and a low priority, compared to other needs. So we've restored this area as woodland – for now. 
Highlights now (all planted by us): woodland sunflower, Joe-Pye weed, starry campion, bottlebrush grass, wide-leaved panic grass, long-awned woodgrass.

Point 10. Prairie swale. There is remnant prairie here, but the wetland is artificial - its wetness resulting from the railroad making a dam here.

One of our many mistakes and disappointments, as stewards, is that the original prairie here was neglected. We thought a conservative approach was best. We should mostly leave it alone, we thought. That turned out to be a mistake. Over forty years, while we weren't paying as much attention as we should, it lost much of its quality to shade of the slowly growing white oaks and brush. The oaks, brush, and artificial wetland (dammed by railroad) discouraged fire. The prairie remnant here needed more care; without it, its richness declined substantially. Now it’s getting some of the help it deserved.

Point 11. Southwest Meadow.
Very beautiful – at this time of year – at this stage of its restoration. This open meadow was solid buckthorn and ash with understory of bare ground. It was formerly prairie. The oak savanna started up hill, where the morainal slope begins, according the the 1839 Public Land Survey. We had some group workdays here, but most of the brush was cut in the summer of 2008 by Rett Donnelley who was looking for a new job in the mornings and expending his excess energies on buckthorn in the afternoons.

Grasses among the flowers: cord grass, switchgrass, and Canada wild rye. Hard to make out? See discussion below.
Wildflowers here include ironweed, sweet black-eyed Susan, gayfeather, and rattlesnake master.
The grasses are the foundation of a grassland ecosystem. Every quality bit of prairie or savanna is thick with them. The wildflowers catch your eye first. But the elegance of the grasses sneak up on you. In this photo you can just make out a cord grass head (to the right of the two dead tree trunks); a long leaf of cord grass arches away from it to the right. Canada wild rye can be seen as a shaggy green head arching under the cord grass leaf (and seeming to come out of a purple ironweed head). The arcing grass leaves are symphonic in grace and complexity.

Switch grass is even more obscure here, yet covering most of the photo; it's the little reddish brown dots everywhere. If you can expand this photo, you can get a look at the structure of switchgrass head against the dark trees in the upper left - just above another purple iron weed.
A wrecked elm (left) and basswood (right) remind us that the former, dense pole buckthorns
and other invaders are doomed as nature recovers here. 
We saved some of the elms and basswoods. But over time, they're not making it. Why did we save them? In part because cutting them would be too much work for too little reward. We had more important work to do. Also, dead elms makes great woodpecker, and they mostly die before too long from Dutch elm disease. The basswood was huge, with five of six substantial trunks. All of them were gradually blown down except the skinny pathetic pole on the right. The bushy mess on the left is trying to recover; the top two thirds of a big trunk was snapped off by wind. Pole trees are often blown down when the supporting other pole trees are cut away.

This area was originally the edge of the prairie that stretched from here to the horizon. The savanna started fifty or a hundred yards or so to the east, where the morainal slope starts to rise. An argument could be made to restore savanna here. A little patch of restored prairie wouldn't amount to much here, as there is no prairie adjacent, and the savanna would be more sustainable for its animals (and for many ecological processes including the evolution of plants to adapt to changing conditions) if it were bigger.

On the other hand, an argument could be made to restore prairie - if the Somme Prairie to the west could be expanded this far. That however would be a long time from now, if ever.

The dense patch of willow aster in the foreground of the above photo is a reminder of our indecision here. We planted little seed, as we didn't know whether to restore as "prairie" or "savanna" - and we didn't want to waste precious seed. Interestingly, the willow aster - a quality plant - is taking over from the weedy tall goldenrod that was dense here for the first few years after cutting the brush. The quality plants that are gradually taking over in this area help us decide what else to plant now.  
Big old limb, bigger than many whole trees, stretches west from the edge of Vestal Grove.
It once stretched over pasture, but perhaps not the prairie that preceded the farm.
The much larger original prairie fires would have burned it off. 
Point 12. Stepping into Vestal Grove

Big old bur oaks. Some with huge limbs reaching out to the west. Probably not a feature of the pre-European times, but a feature of pasture, after the fires stopped. (Are those limbs 200 years old, or 100, or what. (Please don’t saw one off to count the rings, but when those trees die, I hope somebody counts the rings.)

One of the best (and one of the world’s first) restored oak groves. Probably was originally savanna rather than the woodland it’s been restored to. But the original savanna is on its edges.

People think of woods as having a spring flora. Most people don’t know that woodlands once had a rich flora all season long. There are distinct floral seasons, all rich with wildflowers, grasses, and sedges:
Early spring (toothwort, spring beauty, trout lily, false mermaid), late spring (trilliums, bellwort, rue anemone, starry false Solomon’s seal, wood betony), early summer (wild hyacinth, golden Alexanders, Solomon’s seal, wild columbine, doll’s eyes), late summer (tick-tre-foils, woodland sunflower, Joe Pye weed, starry campion), early fall (zigzag goldenrod, elm-leaved goldenrod, Short’s aster) and late fall (elegant seeds and leaves).

Of course, there are whole different seasonal lists for the savanna and prairie, and whole different lists for each of those shade categories according to wet, wet-mesic, etc. There are currently 486 “native species” known from this site. A study of the diversity and conservativeness of the herb flora of Vestal Grove shows that it has been increasing in quality since 1985 and is still increasing today. No one knows how high the scores might be expected to go.

The wildflowers, butterflies, and birds of Vestal Grove are getting more diverse, year by year.
And the prairie, savanna, woodland, and wetland increasingly blend seamlessly into each other. 
Point 13. In the middle of the woods. Here a wet woodland swale runs through it. Don't think that "wetlands" are something different from prairies and woods. There are wooded wetlands and prairie wetlands.

Point 14. Cages are protecting two species of rare plants on this last part of the trail. Please don't knock them over.

The three sections of the tour were led by Eriko Kojima, Linda Masters, and Stephen Packard. Thanks to all participants for joining us and contributing questions, insights, and spirit.

If you'd like to review the July 9th tour of this same area, you can find it at:


This list gives the common names names of plants - only the first time we see each species. 

Plants at Point 1: wild bergamot, mullein foxglove, yellow giant hyssop, riverbank rye, Virginia rye, bottlebrush grass, sweet black-eyed Susan, purple Joe Pye weed, figwort, blue lettuce, white vervain, wild coffee (no flowers, but people ask about the big green seed capsules).

Plants as we go north from Point 1:
Starting in the wet-mesic prairie: gayfeather, rattlesnake master, big bluestem grass, narrow-leaved mountain mint wild qinine, compass plant, Culver’s root, winged loosestrife, rosinweed, switchgrass, nodding wild onion, prairie dock, early goldenrod, grass-leaved goldenrod.

Plants on the first rise (mesic prairie): purple prairie clover, rigid goldenrod, daisy fleabane, dropseed grass, yellow coneflower, common St. John’s wort.

At the edge of the woods: woodland sunflower and ironweed.

As we walk through the woods: starry campion, woodland brome (in seed), cowbane, forked aster, white grass, dotted St.John’s-wort, purple giant hyssop.

Point 2: No new species, great masses of woodland sunflower and purple Joe Pye weed.

As we exit the woods: smooth tick-trefoil, red-top grass, showy tick-trefoil, heal-all.

Point 3
Focus here on seeds: Note them forming on New Jersey tea, white false indigo, meadow parsnip (Thaspium), and golden Alexanders.
New species in bloom here: Compass plant and leadplant.

Plants in bloom as we walk north: flowering spurge

Point 4: No new species.

Walking west from Point 4: cream gentian and savanna blazing star (both only in bud), milk vetch, round-headed bush clover, wild carrot, pale Indian-plantain, bearded wheat grass.   

Point 5: starry campion, Kalm’s brome, pale Indian plantain.

As we cross Central Swale (a flowing stream after rains): water parsnip, winged loosestrife, wet-prairie obedient plant, cordgrass, mad-dog skullcap, Virginia mountain mint.

On the little rise we call Coyote Knob: stiff white aster (or goldenrod), butterflyweed.

(Here we start skipping points – if there are no new species in bloom.)

Point 8. Again crossing the Central Swale – this time on the west Inner Loop.
Notice three distinct bands of vegetation:
In the center of the swale (wet prairie): cord grass, swamp milkweed, Indian hemp, blue vervain
Next band (wet-mesic prairie): saw-tooth sunflower, Culver’s root, big bluestem, switchgrass
Next band (mesic prairie): little bluestem grass, dropseed grass, leadplant, both purple and white prairie clovers, round-headed bush clover.

Point 9
Here the woodland sunflower, Joe-Pye weed, starry campion, and bottlebrush grass are joined by wide-leaved panic grass, long-awned woodgrass, and silky rye grass.

Point 10
Obedient plant. Turtlehead. Prairie loosestrife, jewelweed.

As we go south from Point 10:  
False sunflower (or “ox-eye”) and wood reed.

Then in a very lightly wooded semi-open area:
Great blue lobelia, white snakeroot, water hemlock, spotted Joe-Pye weed, manna grass. Then ahead, under the white oaks: blue lettuce.

Point 11
Cardinal flower, cut-leaved water horehound, Canada rye grass.

Point 13
Woodland obedient plant.

In the thickets as you emerge from the woods: hedge bindweed, fringed loosestrife, elm-leaved goldenrod.

That’s a lot of plants. Enjoy as many as you can!