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. 

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.

 

Rare Plant Pops Up From Nowhere - Short Green Milkweed

A curious story.

Somme Prairie Grove has harbored one individual of this rare milkweed for decades. Normally, we would have paid more attention to such a plant. 

But we mostly forgot about it, because it seemed like a mistake. It's a plant of specialized habitats - dry prairie or sand areas. We have no dry prairie or sand at Somme. 

We did keep an eye on it, as sort of a curiosity. Year after year one or a few stems emerged - connected underground - all one plant. The other vegetation near it was initially short, old pasture plants, mostly poverty oats, Canada bluegrass, and daisy. 

It was not our goal to focus especially on rare species, especially rare species not part of this community. We were trying to restore a natural prairie ecosystem. Our major historic source, H.S.Pepoon's Flora of the Chicago Region (1920) gives this region's habitats for short green milkweed only as "sand dunes" of Indiana and "the Waukegan moorland" - today Illinois Beach - another sand habitat. We continued to mostly ignore it. 

One year Jim Steffen from the Chicago Botanic Garden came by to compare notes on our parallel experiments. When I pointed out the curious milkweed, he recommended that we plant another; that was the only way it would make seed and increase its numbers; he could give us a plant raised from seed gathered not too far away, and not from sand but from a gravelly moraine. Could it be legitimate here? We accepted the gift, planted it in a sunnier area, and it died, or at least we never saw it again. 

Over the years, with fire and the restoration of seed, the vegetation around the original plant grew thicker and more competitive, and the number of stems decreased. Some years a cursory search revealed none, though it may have produced only a few leaves, and we may have looked in the wrong places. Milkweeds are big travelers, at least over short distances. They move by roots, underground, sending rhizomes many feet to explore possibilities, putting up stems in various spots from year to year. 

Eriko Kojima frequently gathers rare seed in the area of this milkweed. The prairie vegetation here has been growing increasingly impressive (prairie coreopsis, white and purple prairie clovers, prairie gentian, prairie lily, Leiberg's panic grass, prairie dropseed, and others). And as nearby trees grew, the area was increasingly in semi-shade and harbored Seneca snakeroot, New Jersey tea, Maryland sanicle, and meadow parsnip (Thaspium trifoliatum) - savanna plants that thrive in dappled shade. We especially wanted seed from that group because, belatedly, we'd figured out that Somme Prairie Grove was indeed originally mostly savanna rather than prairie. All prairie plants also grow in savannas, but many of the non-prairie savanna plants are especially hard to find.   

This June while harvesting Seneca snakeroot, Eriko noticed that two stems of the short green milkweed had emerged, one about ten feet farther out into full sun. Interesting. We still mostly forgot about it.

But our slumbering interest was awakened dramatically when we noticed the plant below, a quarter-mile away in the area called Middle Slope:

Hiding behind a leadplant are two stems and three flower umbels of the short green milkweed.
Where did they come from?  

We've identified 486 species of native plants at Somme Prairie Grove. Perhaps we can be forgiven for not keeping up to date on every one. But this new find prompted us to review the latest info in Wilhelm and Rericha (Flora of the Chicago Region, 2017). The habitats they list for short green milkweed are not limited to sand but include gravelly savannas. Somme is on the Lake Border Moraine; indeed it includes some gravelly areas. Short green milkweed reasonably belongs here. Has this "new" plant been lurking, unseen until now, throughout our 43 years of stewardship? Especially if not flowering, the plant would be easy to miss. Even in glorious full bloom, its green flowers hardly pop. Or is it new? Could Jim Steffen's plant have produced flowers and seeds, and one blew to Middle Slope? Or is it even possible that some green milkweed seed from miles to the west, like at Shoe Factory Road Nature Preserve where there are quite a few green milkweeds on a dry gravel hill, blew miraculously in a collaborative wind all this way? Very unlikely. But possible. 

We'll never know how it got there ... and really don't care all that much. We're about biodiversity conservation. A potentially reproducing short green milkweed population is now on the team. 

 

Protection From Chiggers, Ticks, and Lyme Disease

I know a lot of people who spend a lot of time in nature, who have not gotten lyme disease. But I know some who have, and lyme disease in the Chicago region is said to be increasing. 

For many years I sprayed my ankles and legs with bug repellent. It has always worked to ward off the bugs I fear most, ticks and chiggers.

But more recently I've relied on pants treated by the commercial company Insect Shield. That works too, and I don't have to think about it. 

Woodcock, Woodhen, and Woodchick Drama - March through June

This post takes us from eggs ... laid early, surviving iffily through snow, rain, coyotes, and people ... and on to heroic, noble success.

Yesterday, April 28, monitoring an endangered wetland plant, we flushed a woodhen and four woodchicks. The fledgling four flew tolerably well compared to the mom who could barely, laboriously, hover - slowly heading in a different direction. Of course, the woodhen was luring us away from her chicks.

We were just another challenge she had to negotiate. Her nest, like all woodhen nests, had been on the ground. She and the eggs need camouflage to disappear into the background, when foxes or coyotes come by.

To give their chicks an early start, they're among the first migrants to return and nest each spring. Often the hens and their nests get snowed on. See photos, below. Few people see them, other than in photos like this, though they're one of the commonest nesting birds of the Sommes. Mostly nocturnal. 

On April 3rd, as we cut brush, we scared a hen off a nest with those four eggs shown above. We marked its place, mentally, so we could avoid it and do our work elsewhere.

But if you scare a hen off her nest, especially early in the season, she may choose to abandon the eggs. Many nests also get destroyed by fire or predators. If her first nest fails, she'll start another. Next day, I brought binoculars so I could check from a distance without disturbing her again. But no. She was gone. We felt bad about that.

Yet 60 yards away, that same disappointing day, I happened across another nest, by another hen, which had just three eggs in it: 

This second nest was in prairie grass. A woodhen lays a total of four eggs in her nest - one a day - and begins to incubate when the fourth is laid. She wants the four to hatch at the same time, so these precocial birds can head off with her right away. They're able to walk and feed themselves when they hatch. She should lay her last egg and begin incubating on April 5th. I memorized her position so I could try to document her story from a distance.

Consider this "Where's Waldo photo" from my return on April 5th, of the woodhen sitting on this nest:

Can you find her? I can assure you that's she's in this photo. I was looking at her when I took it, hoping to make a point about camouflage in this post. In the photo, I can't find her, despite looking very hard. I kept my distance. 

I returned on April 8th, with a longer lens. Here she is again; can you find her now? I can.

Try looking toward the right, about a third of the way up the photo, and about two-thirds of the way to the right. You would not likely see her if you were just walking along. A zoomed-in photo is below:

On the 13th day, a light snow came.

This test did not faze her.

She inspires: Skilled. Faithful. Strong. Generous. Hardy. Devoted. Capable. Resilient. 

If you were hiking off trail, you wouldn't see her until too late. If you don't have some crucial steward work, it's best to stay on the paths. Of course, the deer stomp around. The bison once did. But there are a small number of acres of woodcock habitat left here - and millions of human feet, so close.

Through rain and snow, thunderstorms, cold, and wind - for those four eggs to hatch takes 20 to 21 days. 

By April 14th, this snow had melted, and in another part of the preserve, another woodhen fluttering up heavily made me freeze my feet - to discover the four fuzzballs below:

The one in the middle got tipped over when the woodhen burst up. It stayed frozen, upside down. Powerful instincts protect them. But these chicks being here on the 14th meant that the hen had to have started incubating her clutch of eggs by March 25th. The chicks fledge (meaning they can fly) 14 days after hatching. They'll be relatively safe then. 

But, for the nest I was monitoring, on April 16 three more inches of snow were predicted, and they came.

As I approached the nest, passing ten feet away were the fresh tracks of a coyote, perhaps an hour earlier.

But sure enough, neither snow nor coyote nor I fazed that woodhen. There she is:

This later-nesting hen is nearly buried, but, bless her, she perseveres. Her eggs stay warm again. I wonder, how often does she have to eat? For how long could she stay away from those precious eggs? With an incubation time of 20 days, she has eight days left until they hatch. (Yesterday's four fluffballs we can suppose are snuggled under their mom and the snow too.)  

Then other demands on my time lured me away. I never saw her on her nest again. 

But she or one of her sisters successfully fledged the four chicks we saw yesterday. It's an accomplishment any woodhen could be proud of. She's still tending them and trying to lure me away. By mid June, they'll be on their own, and she'll finally, truly, be an empty-nester, so to speak. 

We stewards can also be proud of our work to restore their habitat. We can also treasure the intimate relationship we've come to have with them, coming across eggs and chicks as we do our work, many times every year in Somme Prairie Grove. And in recent years, especially gratifyingly, thanks to woodland restoration under way there, they've also returned to breed and protect eggs and chicks in Somme Woods.

More about Somme's woodcocks is at http://woodsandprairie.blogspot.com/2018/04/dont-hurt-woodcocks.html. For more about why not to go look for birds' nests, see Egg Blog

Two final tidbits:

• This spring in the burned areas there seemed to be a few woodcock holes in every square foot of the open savanna. But none visible in the woods or unburned areas. On the rare occasions I've seen these birds feeding, their bills go up and down so fast they look like sewing machines. 
• Woodhens winter in southern U.S. "where they're a popular game bird" - which means that people shoot them for pleasure. Hunting and gathering are part of our heritage. We have yet to well work out what that means here today. 

Endnotes

Endnote 1: woodhen?

Is it appropriate to call a female woodcock a woodhen? According to the dictionary, no. She's just a "hen woodcock." But I'm sorry, a "cock" is a male, and times have changed. Woodcock males provide nothing to the family beyond sperm and pizazz (in their fancy nuptial flights and serenading), so they're hardly worthy of foisting their macho names on the females.

The hen on her nest thinks about her chicks, not him!
If you notice her before she flies and approach cautiously, she'll sit tight.
You can slowly photograph her from one foot away.

Endnote 2: dates?

Some of these photos and experiences are from various years. The year dates seemed distracting, so they're gone. All the abandoned nest and snow photos are from 2022. Woodhens and their families are cosmic and eternal, if that's okay with us. 

Acknowledgements

Written April 29th.

Posted June 9th.

Thanks to Eriko Kojima, Christos Economou and Rebeccah Hartz for proofing.

It Takes A Village ("Almost a Religious Experience")

The planet and its biodiversity need more Friends.

Communities of care are coming together around the Earth.

In this example, a conservation community was honored by state, county, and local elected officials. In the process, much was revealed. 

The newspaper headline invoked the sacred - referring to the feeling a person can get by being able to do this much good! Stewards feel honor as we work. But some elected officials also saw a helpful opportunity to celebrate something very American, in the best sense.

With food, work, and speeches, instead of recognizing a person or two, the elected officials wisely honored eighty-three individuals (see below) - cited with specifics of their accomplishments. Thousands more were honored indirectly, for decades of work to restore biodiversity to the 410-acre Somme preserves. 

The Northbrook village President was there, along with many other local, county, and state officials. Presenting the award proclamation was Commissioner Scott Britton of the Forest Preserve District of Cook County.

John McCabe, the Forest Preserve director of resource management told Karie Angell Luc, Chicago Tribune/Pioneer Press reporter, "If it wasn't for these volunteers, some of these most critical sites would have been lost to us." The volunteers work collaboratively with Preserve staff on these challenges. 

Biodiversity in the world today does not survive without care. Species populations fade miserably away, despite being on "protected" conservation lands. Indeed whole communities of plants, birds, pollinators and all need to be saved from extinction at many sites.  

Before

An oak woodland choked with buckthorn, old oaks dying, little biota at all, except the invasive buckthorn.

After

Hundreds of species of animals and plants of the oak woodland are now coming back. 

The resolution by which Forest Preserve President Preckwinkle and the Board recognized the Somme stewards and Friends of Northbrook Forest Preserves is below: 

The event started out in the woods We cut and burned invasive pole trees, while Chicago Tribune/Pioneer Press photographer Karie Angell Luc documented the day.

Being in the woods, we had adventures. Someone found a pile of blue-spotted salamanders under a log, too near the fire.

We moved them away, of course, allowing opportunities for education, awe, and ecology. 

At break time, we repaired to the shelter ...

... where a feast was laid out, sociability ensued, and then the proclamation was presented.

Posing above are 18 volunteers, Commissioner Scott Britton (holding the proclamation) and Northbrook President Kathryn Ciesla (third to Scott's right). 

It was a sweet day. Some saw it as a questionable interruption of our urgent work. But events like this are "political" in the best sense. American democracy has an iffy rep these days, but through its processes the Forest Preserves and Nature Preserves System were established. They prosper or decline in proportion to what kind of stewardship they get. Today's celebration affirmed a model for how humans can organize ourselves for something good, for species other than us - collective action motivated by something beyond ego and selfishness. It generated understanding, support, and friends. 

The Earth needs more of this.

Friends of Northbrook Forest Preserves

 

The righteous List of People who take Special Initiative

 

April 2023

 

We stewards are a team. We try to resist hierarchy among ourselves as much as practical. We collaborate, and many help at much more than what’s shown below. But this list attempts to indicate many of the principal contributions.

 

Certifications and authorizations come principally from the Cook County Forest Preserves. Trainings are by CCFP staff and stewards with specialized training from Chicago Botanic Garden - Plants of Concern Program, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, Illinois Department of Agriculture (herbicide certification), Bird Conservation Network, Illinois Butterfly Monitoring Network of the Chicago Academy of Sciences and Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum, Calling Frog Survey, and the Chicago Wilderness Alliance. 

 

Stewards

 

Chipilly Woods: John Cherry 

 

Somme Prairie Nature Preserve: Laurel Ross and Lisa Musgrave

 

Somme Grove Prairie Nature Preserve: Stephen Packard and Eriko Kojima

 

Somme Woods: Linda Masters with zone stewards Christos Economou, Stephanie Place, Rebeccah Hartz, Eriko Kojima, Sai Ramakrishna, John Paterson, Jim Hensel, Matt Evans, Emma Leavens, Katie Kucera, Paul Swanson,  Donna Wittert, Paula Kessler, Carole Ortiz, Diana Economou, Stone Hansard, Beata Fiszer

 

Certified chain sawyers: John McMartin, Joe Handwerker, Tom Bragiel, John Mahal, Lew Brashares, Estelle Ure, Sai Ramakrishna, Allen Giedraitis, Jonathan Sladek, Rett Donnely, Erin Faulkner

 

Brush Pile Burn Leader certification: Kathy Wassman, John McMartin, Paula Kessler and many others

 

Seed harvest, prep, and broadcast: Christos Economou, Rebeccah Hartz, Steph Place, Carole Ortiz, Donna Wittert, Paula Kessler, Amy Broussard, Diana Economou,  Sai Ramakrishna, Matt Evans, Beata Fiszer, Jim Hensel, Fred Ciba, Linda Masters, John Paterson, Russ Sala

 

Herbicide license: John McMartin, Russ Sala, Paula Kessler, George Westlund, John Paterson, and many others

 

Workday leader certification: Linda Masters, Stephen Packard, Laurel Ross, Lisa Musgrave, Eriko Kojima, Sai Ramakrishna, Paul Swanson, Steph Place, Jim Hensel, Matt Evans, Katie Kucera, Estelle Ure, Christos Economou, Diana Economou

 

Safety task force: Ed Samson, Steph Place, Matt Evans, Sai Ramakrishna, John McMartin, Estelle Ure

 

Trails maintenance: Estelle Ure, Russ Sala, Tom Dallinger, John McMartin, Bob Miller, Joe Handwerker, John Mahal, Jim Hensel

 

Representatives to FPD Key Stewards meetings: Paul Swanson, Lisa Musgrave, Sai Ramakrishna, Eriko Kojima, Linda Masters

 

Plant Monitors: Lisa Musgrave, Laurel Ross, Stephen Packard, Emma Leavens, Sai Ramakrishna, John Cherry, Eriko Kojima 

 

Individual Plant Species Stewards: Mike Zarski, Sheila Hollins, Lisa Musgrave, Emma Leavens, Eriko Kojima,

 

Bird Monitors: Danny Leggio, Stephen Packard, Melissa Foster, Chris Monaghan

 

Butterfly Monitors: Ryan Chew, Laurie Leibowitz

 

Calling Frog Monitors: Eriko Kojima, Rebeccah Hartz

 

Shrub and young oak stewardship: Sai Ramakrishna, Matt Evans, Steph Place, Eriko Kojima

 

Instagram task force: Josh Breer, Andrew Condrell, Kaitlin Cywinski, Sofie Richter

 

Tool maintenance task force: Ed Samson, Jim Hensel, Matt Evans, Linda Masters, Russ Sala, Bob Miller, Estelle Ure

 

New Year’s Bonfire Celebration team: Ed Samson, Jim Hensel, Steve Tattleman, Russ Sala, Linda Masters, Rebeccah Hartz, Marty Maneck (bagpipe), John Paterson (art), Eriko Kojima

 

Friends of the Chicago River’s Chicago River Day Somme Woods site captain: Jim Hensel

 

Treat Bakers at volunteer events: George Westlund, Jim Hensel, Carole Ortiz, Donna Wittert, Linda Masters, Kim Ciba

 

Friends of Northbrook Forest Preserves organizers and convenors: Stephanie Place, Jim Hensel, Pat Johns, Linda Masters, Mike Piskel, Rob Sulski, Donna Wittert, Carole Ortiz, Russ Sala, Ed Samson, 

 

Eco-hike leaders:  Rob Sulski, Steph Place, Stephen Packard, Donna Wittert

 

Recruiters: Jim Hensel, Rae Goodman-Lucker and family, Josh Breer, Andrew Condrell.

 

Media and communications: Steph Place, Jim Hensel, Steve Tattleman, Pat Johns, Eriko Kojima, Carole Ortiz, Donna Wittert

Our apologies to the many people who deserve more mention. But we hope this list gives you a flavor of how this community thrives. 

Acknowledgements

This post benefitted from edits and proofing by Emma Leavens and Eriko Kojima.