Dead Salamanders - then Salamandistas to the rescue!

For many years, herpetologist Karen Glennemeier and her daughters have monitored the blue-spotted salamanders of Somme Woods. Dark blue with light blue spots, they are handsome, inspiring, somewhat rare creatures that hike to breeding ponds in early spring. Maggie and Annie turn over logs and count them. We don't touch their delicate skins unless our hands are moist with natural, un-chlorinated water. We carefully turn back the logs so the little characters can stay moist and protected. We've never found a dead one.

Blue-spotted salamander: as we'd very much rather see them.

Two days ago Cecil Hyns-Riddle and I started finding them shriveled and dead. Cecil is organizing a more sophisticated study of Somme Woods' many frog and salamander (and snake?) species, starting this spring. The new Somme 2030 group is taking many initiatives, and this is one. When Cecil and I first noticed a dried-up salamander in the parking lot, we felt bad for it, as an individual. But then we spotted another, and another, and on a quick walk down the pavement to her car (rushing to a next appointment) we counted 62 little cadavers.

Just a day earlier I had written to the Forest Preserve staff to express my concern about heavy salt in this sensitive area. "All this salt drains into the streams where so many listed plants are and the ponds where the blue-spotted salamanders and spring peepers breed," I wrote. It hadn't crossed my mind that salt could be a problem while it was on the pavement.

You could easily miss the shrivelled little corpses. But when we looked close, they were everywhere.

I stopped back yesterday, on another mission, and counted 25 more on a part of the pavement we hadn't walked. So we documented at least 87 deaths. Certainly there were many more; we didn't search systematically or cover the whole paved and salty area.

Why was this much salt needed? Why was any salt needed?"

Salamanders are mighty survivors from the age of the dinosaurs and before. They're the only vertebrates that can grow back a severed limb. But they could smoke without inhaling; they can breathe through their skin. Their moist skin is a very sensitive organ.

At first we assumed the bodies had been flattened by cars. But why had we never seen anything like this in decades? Then we noticed that some of the little torsos weren't flat. Now CSI, we decided that the squashed ones may have been dead before flattening. We started to notice that the densest graveyards of remains were in the areas with the heaviest salt. One such area just 10 by 20 feet had 16 dead salamanders and 1 dead chorus frog.

Now we started looking more carefully out of the main stream of traffic; here many weren't flattened at all. Check out the little guy below:

Many of the victims hadn't been flattened at all. If not run over by cars, then what?
CSI evidence included grains of salt caked on their sides, heads, limbs and tails.
"It wouldn't take much salt to desiccate a salamander," as one Forest Preserve ecologist put it. 

In response to my email on the first 62 tragedies, I got a quick call back from Forest Preserve staff. Chief ecologist Chip O'Leary came out and bagged a lot of evidence. He was as concerned as we were. There will be an investigation. We'll report here what we learn.

CREDITS: Inspiring photo of healthy blue-spotted salamander by Lisa Culp. Photos of asphalt, salt, misery, and death courtesy of S. Packard's cell phone.

FIRST UPDATE: March 19. 2:00 PM
Josh Coles and I were just at the preserve to plan this Sunday's work party. To our surprise, parallel lines of cleanliness seem to indicate that the drives and parking areas have been swept with some kind of street-sweeper. This is fast work, as the staff only got our message two days ago. The machine does seem to have swept up a lot of the salt, although some areas still have quite a bit.

SECOND UPDATE: March 20.
Tina, Bob, Cecil, and I swept up 12 quarts of salt. The more we can remove the better.

We measured the quantity of salt. Makes us feel better about all that sweeping?

THIRD UPDATE: March 21: 11:00 AM
This morning I got a call from Cecil, crying out in a pained emergency voice, "They're scattered around the parking lot again. Many dried out and dead. Many more still alive and struggling. It's horrible!"

This morning, the volunteer crew saved 53 salamanders. For some reason there was another wave of migration last night. About 40 others were so desiccated that they didn't respond when we put them in fresh water. We left them in the pond. Some of the unresponsive ones might recover? But at least 30 were clearly dead, raising our body count to at least 110. Are the numbers trivial? Or do they add to the depth of the nearly-invisible drama?

We cruised the parking lot - finding and depositing salted salamanders in glasses of pond water -
then freed the little beings in their pond. 

It was easy for twenty or thirty salamanders to fit in one glass. 

Cecil Hynds-Riddle deserves huge credit for rounding us up and spreading the word on this mission. But her obvious reward is the truly blessed pleasure she clearly gets from helping these little fellow lovers of Somme Woods. 

The Forest Preserve staff arranged for the machine that did some sweeping up yesterday. But the machine broke after only a couple of passes. Now they are in the process of renting another kind of machine that should be able to finish the job. Thanks to Director of Resource Management John McCabe for the quick response.

FORTH UPDATE: March 21. 5:30 PM
Forest Preserve staffer Ron Pitelka brought heavy equipment to sweep up salt. Worked really hard for most of the day. Hard to adjust the machinery right, but in the end he got it. Looks like most of the loose salt is gone. (More details in later summary.) Thank you, Ron!

FIFTH UPDATE: March 22. 5:30 - 6:00 AM
Checked the whole lot. No salamanders. Perhaps too cold to migrate today?

NOTE FROM RON PITELKA: March 22
The comment below was in response to a Facebook post where we Friends of Somme thanked him for his determination and hard work. It is so important that the Forest Preserves (a government agency) have people with heart, competence, and dedication like Ron Pitelka.

Ronnie Pitelka Thanks for all the kind words, Steve! I'm really glad I was able to help today, although I wish there was more I could do. I have to admit, before you showed up, the entire project seemed kinda silly and pointless, as there were no large piles of salt left, just a dusting on the whole lot that seemed insignificant. Once you showed me the dried up critters with the fine grains of salt stuck to them, it really helped me to see what needed to be done. Seeing the pictures on here and reading the blog about this project makes me really happy that I was able to get the sweeper working properly and that I spent the extra time that I did up there today. From an employee's point of view, I feel really bad that this happened. While I don't apply salt for the Forest Preserve, I have operated salt trucks in the past and I can say it's very difficult to actually see how much salt is being deposited, and simply stopping or backing up the salt truck can result in large concentrated deposits. I'm certain whoever salted the lot probably thought they were doing a great job by being so thorough with the salt knowing their work would prevent someone from falling on ice, unfortunately, it really helps illustrate the need for better communication between our departments. While individual goals need to be met, there can sometimes be unforseen and inadvertent consequences to just about any work that is done, especially when the entire picture is not always presented. Hopefully this sort of damage can be prevented in the future by simply not salting this lot, or utilizing an alternative such as sand. Despite the reason for our interaction, it was a pleasure meeting you and learning today! Thanks so much for your and all of the stewards' and volunteers' hard work!!

SIXTH UPDATE: March 23

Many people have suggested flushing the caked salt off the asphalt with lots of water - and explored practical ways to do it. (Part of the problem has been that there was no significant precipitation since the heavy salt 

was applied. Thus salamanders can't get past the concentrated surface salt barrier that separates their winter hibernacula from the breeding ponds.) One problem has been that the only easily-obtainable water available for the purpose is chlorinated hydrant water. Then, today, we finally got a good snowfall. John McCabe asked FP Police and Maintenance to leave the lot closed and not plow it, so the snow can dissolve the salt and wash it away. The snow is already melting and water flowing. Tomorrow we expect good rains. Perhaps this trial is behind us?

SEVENTH UPDATE:  March 25th

After days of sweeping, scraping, and finally a good snow fall and melt, this blue-spotted salamander  seemed to cross the asphalt just fine. We wish it happy and productive mating season in the pond that awaits it.

FOR MORE INFO: check out this Smithsonian article. 

The Grand Narrative of Planetary Restoration

an outline for a book or video

Episode 1. The Earth forms. Life emerges and evolves impressively.  Mass extinctions, botanical marvels. Animal mothers invent tenderness. Gradually our story focuses on what will become a special place. 12,000 years ago, by the side of Glacial Lake Chicago, wooly mammoths, musk oxen, and saber-tooth cats pursue their frosty-breathed and unruly lives. But the planet is warming; glaciers retreat north; musk oxen follow them; and Jefferson’s mammoths, long-horned bison, and other prairie creatures re-invade from the south. Grasslands and oak woodlands form and reform, as they have for 5 million years, moving around the continent in response to climate. But these lands are about to incorporate unexpected newcomers. 

 

Episode 2. North America connects to Asia, and new species invade including humans, grizzly bear, elk, and wolves. They soon replace the mammoth, mastodon, long-horned bison, short-faced bear, camel, and giant ground sloth. Though the prairies and woods have burned for millions of years, ignition by lightning is now largely replaced by purposeful burning by people as they manage plants and animals for medicine and food. Much of the time, people find life is good. One of the ecologically richest landscapes of the temperate world, the region is a mosaic of human cultures within the woodlands, prairies, wetlands side by side with orchids, passenger pigeons, Carolina parakeets, and white-tailed deer.

 

Episode 3. Europeans invade across the Atlantic, bringing disease that kills 90% of the native people. Reduced hunting or a while makes space for invasion by the plains bison (never before part of our tallgrass prairie). As Europeans grab land, tribes fight tribes for what's left. The mighty Illiniwek (with their towns of wooden houses) fall to more flexible (and fierce) hunter-gatherers. The tenderness of human mothers sometimes clashes with the harshness of fathers. Some visionary people (Tecumseh, Sojourner Truth, Jane Addams) imagine better worlds. 

 

Episode 4. As the last Sac, Fox, and Potawatomi retreat north and west, European Americans develop a family farm economy over nearly every acre of the former tallgrass prairie, oak savanna, and woodland. On the edge of the lake, a metropolis emerges through commerce in nature – exhausting first wildlife, then trees, even gradually depleting the rich soil itself. Yet for many new citizens, refugees from stress and misery, life gradually improves.

 

Episode 5. Jens Jensen, fleeing European wars and injustice, has a vision worthy of the “New World.” The Committee on the Universe (Dwight Perkins, Jane Addams, Frank Lloyd Wright, and others) think up new elements of culture, including the idea of saving natural landscapes and playgrounds as a part of nature’s metropolis. Friends of Our Native Landscape and the Prairie Club form to campaign for the new vision. 15 years of legal and social battles lead finally to victory as the world’s first metropolitan Forest Preserve is born. Its charter: 

“ … to acquire and hold land for the purpose of protecting and preserving the flora, fauna, and scenic beauties ... and to restore and restock, protect and preserve the natural forests and such lands together with their flora and fauna as nearly as may be, in their natural state and condition, for the purpose of the education, pleasure and recreation of the public.”

 

Episode 6. Advocates search for the most rich and beautiful land, and the Forest Preserve buys it. People work to maintain nature traditions from the Native Americans, European American farmers, and the customs of immigrants. Preserve managers plant trees, mow scenic meadows, hold festivals. Cap Sauers rescues the institution from corruption and makes peace with the politicians. He helps George Fell found the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission with its enlightened vision of biodiversity conservation. Cook County Forest Preserves dedicate 11 of the state’s first twelve nature preserves including Shoe Factory Road Prairie, Busse Woods, Cranberry Slough, and the pathetically-named Thornton-Lansing Road Nature Preserve, a complex of savanna, prairie, wetland, and woodland. 

 

Episode 7. Henry Cowles of the University of Chicago, studying Lake Michigan dunes, helps develop the concept of the ecosystem. Roberts Mann (FPD staff leader) and Aldo Leopold (University of Wisconsin) teach, write papers, and exchange correspondence about what forest preserves can be. “Mushroom Fests” appeal to middle-European foragers. Performances, pageants, dances, and picnics draw millions of people to the preserves (on their one day off each week). The FPD explores restoration of deer, turkeys, and prairie chickens. May Theilgaard Watts writes “Reading the Landscape” to engage people with local prairies, ravines, bogs, and nature generally. Learning that the ‘Chicago vision’ is lacking elsewhere, she then writes “Reading the Landscape of America” and later “… of Europe.” But imperceptibly, much of what’s appreciated in the forest preserves is slipping away.

 

Episode 8. Leopold and other University of Wisconsin biologists invent prairie restoration – the world’s first ‘ecosystem medicine.’ Dr. Robert Betz a biochemist at Northeastern Illinois University in his free time wages a personal campaign to discover, preserve, and restore the region’s remnant prairies. Betz, Ray Schulenburg (Morton Arboretum) and Dot and Doug Wade (NIU) educate scores of activist volunteers who hold conferences and look for prairie conservation opportunities. Illinoian George Fell, founder of The Nature Conservancy (not-for-profit) and Illinois Nature Preserves Commission (partly government), help launch another planetary first, the Illinois Natural Areas Inventory, which searches the entire state and finds that nature survives in only 610 remnants – pitifully representing only 7/100^th of 1% of the state. Indiana and Iowa turn out to be the same. The soils and biodiversity of the corn belt represent crucial opportunity and importance for human nutrition and health, and we just let it go? Yet more rich survives here than in eastern states or California, which had been exploited for centuries longer. Thus, planetary recovery starts here. 

 

Episode 9. Inspired by Leopold, Betz and Fell, a group of volunteers wins approval to restore vanishing prairies on public land. The North Branch Restoration Project engages scores of neighbors in the mission (with the spirit of ‘the sixties’ and emerging environmentalism). Rare and endangered plants and animals respond with drama and beauty. Betz spurs them on, saying that “people like you and me need to act on the ideas that the ‘properly educated’ academics can’t have.” “Unproven” ideas start to save what’s been vanishing so fast. After a mere decade of hard work and stunning successes, the group is widely celebrated as the first community for ecosystem restoration on public conservation land. First acres, then tens of acres, then hundreds recover biodiversity.

 

Episode 10. The drama proceeds despite many reversals. George Fell and the entire Nature Preserve entire staff are fired by Illinois. Too non-compromising. With nowhere else to turn, the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission reluctantly approves a volunteer program modeled after the North Branch Prairie Project for the state’s nature preserves. The Nature Conservancy hires the former INPC field staff and develops the Volunteer Stewardship Network into a national and international model. Power grows, and with it, foes. Fifteen years into the ‘experiment’ the press and many public officials turn on the program – but that drama will mostly have to wait until Episode 12.

 

Episode 11. While restoration for prairies is increasingly expert, the region’s oak savannas and woodlands continue to degrade as the prairies once did. To get approval to burn the forests means overcoming decades of misleading education. A rough consensus slowly emerges that forests and wetlands too desperately need restoration to cope with modern stresses if their species are to survive. Trained expert volunteers cut great swaths of invasive brush and provide much needed controlled burns to more than 100 prairies, woodlands, and wetlands in the greater Chicago region. Conservation agencies begin hiring restoration staff. Some volunteers launch entrepreneurial companies to satisfy increasing demand for ‘ecosystem medics.’ 

 

Episode 12. The new conservation community (paid and volunteer stewards) becomes increasingly numerous, sophisticated, and respected. But at the same time, preserve land is appropriated by politicians for garbage dumps, a sports stadium, and, if a powerful pol has his way, a neon-lighted gambling casino. Most stewards had tried to stay out of politics, but the casino was too much. Recognizing the need for broader public support and to engage the region’s powerful cultural and scientific institutions, the Nature Conservancy launches “Chicago Wilderness” – a campaign to gain resources and recognition (with tens, then hundreds of organizational partners). Just as Chicago Wilderness is launched, a ferocious media campaign attacks the Conservancy, many individual stewards, and Forest Preserve conservation staff. DuPage, Lake, and Cook Counties take the most heat. Cook FPD President John Stroger declares a “moratorium” that ends all forms or restoration (and even litter clean-up and kids educational activities) at the District’s natural areas. A similar moratorium in DuPage County lasts for months, but in Cook it drags on for years because of complex politics.

 

Episode 13. Looking for an organizational home with reputation for both good conservation science and committed advocacy, stewards seek support from the National Audubon Society. Soon Audubon is hiring the interns, sponsoring the educational conferences, and recruiting the new volunteer groups. For some years, Audubon houses Chicago Wilderness Magazine and the new Friends of the Forest Preserves. Building support from the ground up, stewards gradually resume their ‘controversial’ work: cutting trees, culling deer (professionals mostly in the urban area), applying herbicide, and controlled burns. The new projects span thousands of acres.

 

Episode 14. This episode predicts the next few decades in Chicago Wilderness. The Cook County Forest Preserves board and Great Foundations decide to fund the Next Century Plan (approved in 2014): 30,000 acres to be restored to high quality, millions of people engaged in nature, 400 volunteer stewards empowered, and much more. Not that we can truly predict even a few years ahead – but we start thinking generations ahead. We are humans; we can do it. Just as people have developed passionate interest in dancing – sports – cars – gardening: so now in their free time citizen-scientist stewards work closely (and distantly) with professionals to develop dramatic advances in sustainable living, solutions to pollution, climate change, and other as-yet-unexpected challenges. Chicago becomes a “Silicon Valley” for ecosystem restoration on larger and larger scales. 

 

Episode 15. “Natural disasters” in the year 2050 force humanity finally to face the fact that it has just two choices: One – take planetary health seriously and employ a level of resources formerly devoted only to war. Or two – accept that most life on the planet including us will soon spiral out of existence. You’ll be glad to know that, with ferocious commitment, creativity, and a bit of good luck, the planet is rescued. We thank ecosystem medicine that started with “A Land Ethic” and “to restore, restock, preserve and protect.” Because there was never enough money to do the quirky science that leads to fundamental breakthroughs, “classic unfunded science pioneers” make some of the key discoveries. Yes, true, the professional scientists, government workers, and entrepreneurs contribute much – partly because of increased demand and resources (ultimately coming from the community of stewards and earth-lovers). The Chicago conservationists play a major role in saving the planet. We built the constituency and thereby found the resources. Professionals, citizen scientists, and artists pull it all together and work miracles. 

 

Unexpected Big-ass "Forest Fire"

It was becoming a beautiful day. The prediction had been for damp and cold, but the actual weather looked increasingly great. An alert went out to the new Somme East stewards. "Anyone free to do some planning, exploration, and loving the ecosystem, before the cold comes?"

Part of our thinking was that it might be the perfect day to find and mark (and protect from slaughter) a beautiful little grove of black haw trees and shrubs. This could be important, because the new mission of our new community (which we consider calling "Somme 2030" or the "Somme Revival Party") was to restore 150 acres of rare oak woodland and wetland habitat, and many efforts fail when it comes to the plum trees (Prunus americana), hazelnuts (Corylus americana), and black haws (Viburnum prunifolium), occasional patches of which may have been a crucial part of the habitat.

Would anyone be free at the last minute? It turns out that Travis had already scheduled a day off - and both Michael and Josh managed to wiggle out of whatever, and now we four assembled in the wilderness of Somme East to plan the future.

We weren't expecting drama today. Josh, Michael, Travis and I searched for seedlings
of rare understory trees that might become important habitat by the year 2030. 

Why do haw, plum, and hazelnut need help? First, because they've been nearly obliterated by the shade of invasive trees (from buckthorn to maple) that - in the absence of fire - destroy the richness of the oak woodlands. Second, because now that we're starting to restore the habitat, our controlled burns will also unfortunately kill the few native shrubs that survive. And last, because eager-to-be-helpful brush cutters will snip them if they're not marked, when they cut the buckthorn.

Oh, they may not look like much now, but the color of those two surviving leaves give away a patch of one- to four-foot-tall black haw sprouts, scattered over an area the size of a house. If protected, this shrub thicket could be twenty feet tall by 2030. It could bear the nests of blue-winged warblers, eastern towhees, black-billed cuckoos and other now-rare birds that once helped the woods to thrive.

The blue-black fruits 

of the haw (on their bright red stems) would once again be eagerly devoured, in the words of Donald Culross Peattie, by "gray foxes, white-tailed deer, bobwhites, wood-wandering boys, and botanists." (But why do wood-wandering girls 

get left out?)

When we'd find a patch of black haw, we'd record the location on cell phone GPS, tie ribbons on the young trunks (so lopper-wielding brush cutters could avoid them) and rake leaves away - because - we hoped - if all went well - this whole area would soon be treated to a prescribed burn by Forest Preserve staff or contractors. 

Did we really think that would happen? Sure, we'd made the request earlier this fall. Forest preserve restoration has indeed been getting better and better. But we've also been disappointed. And this large area has never been burned since the days of the bison and the Potawatomi. 

That's when the miracle happened. We were intent, focused, thinking through plans, tying ribbons, raking leaves - and having a harder and harder time hearing each other's voices - because distant trucks or trains or some ungodly noise was getting louder and louder. Suddenly Travis said, "Leaf blower!"

Really? Out in the middle of the forest? Two of us immediately knew what that meant. Staff were making fire breaks, right where we'd hoped. At first we assumed the breaks were being prepared for another day. But then we saw growing billows of smoke. What serendipity! It was happening now!

Before we knew it, we were being treated to the drama of a Forest Preserve on fire. 

Many people might think perhaps we'd be scared. But a woods fire on a calm day like this moves at the speed of a very ill patient with a walker. The average person could crawl out of the way. You could hop over it. You could walk through it, stepping briefly right in the flames for that matter, if you were wearing clothes and footwear not made of petroleum. Not that anyone would recommend it. But the level of danger is trivial. Don't lie down in the flames, and you're okay. (On the other hand, don't try the "walking through fire" trick with "synthetics." Some melt. Some burn.)

How about the worry that the fire will "get out of control" and burn down buildings? Here we can first look at the record. All the region's conservation agencies burn their prairies and oak woods, and no fire has escaped to burn down buildings. The reasons are simple. Competence and firebreaks.

Before the burn was lit, those leaf blowers emptied a narrow strip of soil of any flammable leaves, wood, or anything else.
In the photo on the left you can barely see the leaf-blown area to the right of the black. But look how effective it was.

It works because the person spreading the fire starts it right on that edge, and other crew with water backpack pumps are carefully watching to make sure no hint of flame tries to sneak across.

Once the fire has burned a few feet in, leaving behind a black area of no fuel, the woods outside the break are safe.

Notice the little flames moving left in the photo. The farther they get, the safer the area outside the break.

(On the other hand, "don't try this at home." There are many dangers that are not obvious to the untrained. Only people with extensive training and expertise can do controlled burns.)

Perhaps this is the time to consider the "cost" or "harm" of such a fire - compared to the benefits. People with respiratory problems should stay out of the smoke, but they could just walk away. Air pollution is indeed a cost. We'd all prefer no air pollution, but we degrade the air by driving our cars (or taking the bus or train). We increase carbon dioxide in the atmosphere every time we breathe. We put particulates in the air every time we have a cook-out or burn a fire in a fireplace. We as a culture have decided that some benefits outweigh some costs.

In this case, the benefits accrue to ecosystem services performed for the planet by healthy woods, and biodiversity conservation, and recreation. It used to be that the natural lands of the Cook County Forest Preserves were treasured for recreation by hikers, artists, photographers, birders, foragers, and kids of all ages. It used to be that these 55,000 acres cleaned our urban air throughout the growing season ("the lungs of the city"). It used to be that the ecosystem preserved the soil from erosion and sponged up rain to mitigate floods.

Insidiously, "invasive" or "malignant" species began progressively to destroy all these values. Only in recent decades have we gradually come to understand that an impenetrable thorn thicket where an open woodland used to be was not "nature" or "natural" or good. Fire restores the plant community, animal habitat, and ecosystem services.

Small buckthorns (the nasty saplings here with green leaves) bite the dust.

The most obvious benefit is the control of buckthorn. This small tree - in the absence of fire - destroys animal habitat and shades out the grasses and wildflowers so severely that even the soil erodes off and clogs streams, lakes, and ultimately the Gulf of Mexico. After this fire, not only will the buckthorn be reduced, but the thick mat of leaves will uncover the soil just long enough to seed. Right away Travis, Michael, Josh and the rest of the Somme Revival Party will plant the rare seeds they've been gathering all summer and fall. Next spring they'll sprout in perfect conditions. Healing has begun.

If you checked out the Somme Facebook page, you might have seen the video of this fire in which 

burn boss Evan Barker seems to be walking through the woods spreading fire at random. That too deserves comment.

Carefully placed strip fires do what was once done by a mighty wind. 

For millions of years, grasslands and oak woodlands burned from fires ignited by lightning. Most of the grasses, leaves, and dead trees were then burned by fires spreading with the wind on the very driest, hottest, windiest days. Considering how slowly today's tamer fires are spreading, large areas like Somme east (150 acres) would have to burn for days if a single fire were to spread slowly on its own. So a drip torch is used to start new lines of flame, back and forth through all the key areas. This fire will spread out in both directions, burning the leaf litter (and many invasives) from the entire area of this photo in ten or fifteen minutes.

Wonderful day. Now we approach the future with greater hope and confidence.

Oak woodland in Somme Prairie Grove after decades of restoration.

What comes next? First finish gathering, and then broadcasting, all that crucial seed.
Then cutting bigger brush and burning it in bonfires throughout the cold winter.
Then more study, planning, and month to month of rewarding stewardship in the beautiful and recovering Somme Woods (inspired in part by the pilot work to the west in Somme Prairie Grove).
A worthy, wonderful, and generous dream.
Somme's animals and plants somehow certainly appreciate this noble quest. 

For a 2017 report on how this mission proceeds, click here, here, or here.

For later updates on this group and mission, click here, 

Fall Burn - Somme Prairie - November 2, 2014

Every year, one day is most important to a prairie - bar none.
That's the day it burns.

Fire is so important to ecosystem sustainability that "evolutionists pray for it."

Usually a burn is planned for about half of each of the three Somme restoration areas. The principle is that half is left unburned as habitat for rare animals that may be sensitive to fire.

This year was the time for the west half of Somme Prairie to burn, and that's where we'll look next year for all the rarest plants to do best - for the richest wildflower displays and most butterflies. That's where we'll see wholesale reduction of some invasives and the best advances in diversity and health.

Burns are good.

Preparing the fire break

The fuel is cut and blown out of the break by leaf blowers. The whole process is carefully planned and carried out.

A modest fire

On somewhat of a cool and damp day, this fire through average to light fuels was easy to control - yet making life and death difference for the plants and animals of the prairie. (These first two photos courtesy of Troy Showerman, burn boss for the fire. Troy, thanks a little for the photos - and a huge massive lot for the burn.)

Happy crew when the burn is done. This is actually the crew that burned Black Partridge Woods.
The burn program has many crews out across the county on every good burn day.
This photo from FP burn boss John McCabe.

The next photos were taken on the following day - the black aftermath. The quick fire may be colorful and dramatic, but what counts is the long-term work the fire does.

Sedge meadow - only the upper layers burned in damp areas like this. 

In the sedge meadow, above, if you kicked at the char, you'd find that a couple of inches of unburned vegetation survives under the black in many places. Some people argue that the best plan is to burn the whole site every year under moderate conditions in fall. You can see how that might work in this photo. Their argument is that plenty of habitat for rare animals survives in unburned vegetation or just "randomly" missed patches, also seen above. Most land managers recommend: burn half; leave half unburned.

Here we see a shrub patch that the fire has top-killed. The invasive dogwood shrub would destroy the prairie by its shade without fires. The dogwood will re-sprout from the bottom next spring. But it has lost its edge, and frequent burns in some parts of this site have demonstrated that the high quality prairie can completely out-compete the dogwood if the burns are frequent.

Burns reveal the structure of the ecosystem - like an X-ray. Here at the edge of the sedge meadow, vole tunnels can be seen running from the tall grass into the drier dogwood thicket. Before the burn, the vole tunnels (foreground) were invisible. Only the sharp-nosed coyotes knew where they were. Now we see them everywhere.

Another "X-ray." The white clumps are recent excavations of sub-soil from crayfish burrows. This shot in from the highest, driest ground on the site. But the ancient crustaceans are tunneling from the water-table to the surface everywhere.

Upland "high quality" prairie. Some patches had too little fuel to burn. This is tallgrass prairie?

The photo above shows an area that the Illinois Natural Areas Inventory (1970s) rated as "high quality" (Grade B) prairie. (Grade A = "very high quality.") It has diverse conservative species but not Grade A structure. The assumption was that this area had been subjected to excessive grazing by cattle or horses at some point - but that with Grade A prairie right near by, it would recover on its own in time.  Yet after three decades of burning every couple of years, it doesn't look all that much better. Perhaps it needs seed restoration with some of the taller conservatives, like dropseed grass, prairie clover, and others, the seed of which "don't get around much anymore," by itself.

A firebreak - neatly raked.

Prior to the burn, the crew mowed and raked a firebreak through the center of the site. The burn is started as a backfire, so it burns slowly away from the downwind edge of the intended unburned area. Fire does not burn one foot beyond where it's supposed to.

Meadow vole trails, diggings, and tunnel entrances. 

Now we can see the under-the-grasses architecture of our little hamster-like, gerbil-like meadow voles. Their otherwise invisible influence is massive. Although they're the main food of coyotes, red-tailed hawks, and many other predators, some people speculate that voles are a lot more common than they used to be. They seem to destroy all the seed of some conservative species every year. Perhaps an unbalance has been created by the loss of other predators (for example weasels, big snakes, short-eared and long-eared owls). Or could it be that the problem is that we leave voles half the site to hide in after the burn? Perhaps they were less common when the burn patches were bigger?

Wet thickets don't burn on most years.

Another concern of many ecologists is the loss of the shrub communities in prairies, savannas, and oak woods. This thicket of dogwoods and willows won't burn unless there's a fire during very dry times. These wet shrub thickets seem crucial for some rare birds and other animals.

In the northwest corner of the prairie is a large area that is shrubby throughout. If left alone, these little shrubs would grow up and wipe out all prairie plants and animals. With regular burns and seeding with more diverse conservative plants, the prairie will win. It's a long process and needs the help of many stewards, but it's worth it to restore size and quality to at least a few fine eastern tallgrass prairies, which otherwise would be gone from the Earth, with all their biodiversity.

Where the shrubs are biggest and densest, the fire goes out. 

As they grow annually larger in the absence of fires, dogwood thickets kill the grass and wildflowers, the dried remains of which fuel the prairie's health-restoring fires. Once the shrubs get this big, they can be removed only by "catastrophic" fires under extreme conditions - or the laborious work of people like you and me. Frequent fire is the better option.

Unburned. High quality. 

Here's what a piece of the unburned eastern section looks like. The fine low grass is the conservative prairie dropseed. The green patch in the lower left middle is a young buckthorn. Without fire, in time it would destroy the whole ecosystem.

Prairie plants rejoicing after a burn

And because a clear vision of process and potential is crucial to understanding and caring for the prairie, here's what Somme will look like at the height of next summer. We burn the prairie for hope, happiness, and the future.

A Walk in the Opulence of July

Nine photos of restored savanna and woodland 

at Somme Prairie Grove

July 2014

followed by thoughts on what they mean to conservation.

Elderberry (white flowers, above) is a shrub that meets the needs of birds, wine-makers, jelly-cookers, photographers ... it's a great shrub. Most of our shrubs and small trees burn off with every prescribed burn. One of our challenges at Somme is managing, despite frequent fire, to keep the thriving patches of shrubs that birds need for nesting and foraging. 

Shade in mid-day. Ninety degrees. Like people, many animals need to move in and out of shade to regulate our (and their) temperatures. Flowers in bloom here: starry campion, woodland sunflower, and purple Joe-pye-weed. 

Near woods and thickets, the diverse, short-statured "prairie" vegetation gives way to the exuberant tangles that mushroom up when a woody edge is cut or burned back. The sprawling monster plant that takes up most of the top half of this photo is showy tick trefoil. Would you like a plant ID challenge? Can you find, in this photo (in rough order of prominence): purple prairie clover, prairie dock, lead plant, rattlesnake master, black-eyed susan, gayfeather, Culver's root, yellow coneflower, fleabane, early goldenrod, Kalm's brome, obedient plant, gray dogwood, cordgrass, prairie dropseed, big bluestem, saw-toothed sunflower, and river grape? Find 'em all? Notice any others that I missed? 

Carolina rose and prairie sundrops both have seeds that are difficult to separate for efficient planting. But just get a few going, and they'll spread splendidly by themselves.

Amid purple prairie clover and leadplant, the fine leaves of grass that arc horizontally are prairie dropseed. It's the dominant grass of our finest black-soil prairies. 

Even rarer than the purple is white prairie clover. Note how much wider its leaves are. It can grow in somewhat wetter and shadier habitats.

The lonely yellow bloom here is a "prairie" or "yellow" coneflower. Twenty years ago such coneflowers waved in all our open areas by the thousands. But they don't compete well with such conservatives (above) as dropseed, lead plant, silphiums, and white and purple prairie clover. Look for them in young restorations - or around animal burrows.

Still mostly buds here, the coming of the cardinal flower makes us already wistful. The richness of early summer is soon behind us. The richness of late summer approaches. Cardinal flower will attract daredevil hummingbirds through August and September. Soon to bloom: the tall grasses, blazing stars, asters, sunflowers. Golly. 

Your “Comments” and discussion are always appreciated by this blog.

There’s a different treatment of these same photos here - where they’re described from a more technical, restoration perspective. Check out that blog too - and see which you find more interesting?

A History of Collaboration

March 24, 2014

To Restore and Restock

Biodiversity Restoration in the Forest Preserves of Cook County

This account summarizes the pioneering work done by professionals and volunteers as they developed new (and now widely respected) approaches to conserving our natural woodlands, prairies, and wetlands.

A goal for the Forest Preserves of Cook County from their inception, was “to restore, restock, protect and preserve the natural forests and such lands together with their flora and fauna, as nearly as may be, in their natural state and condition.”

Learning to do this well would take decades. But it is worth noting that even the earliest reports and plans of the District featured a map of the original vegetation of the county (mostly prairie but with woodlands along the rivers) and celebrated the woodlands, prairies, and wetlands for their natural beauty and recreational value. The early reports also featured collaboration with citizen volunteers and conservation groups, as it was obvious from the beginning that more ambitious goals could be achieved this way.

Starting in the early decades, Forest Preserve resource managers have done restoration, as it was then understood. They planted woodland and grassland (maintained initially by mowing) for both wildlife and people. Staff members were among the first to experiment with habitat restoration. At the inception of ecological restoration as a scientific discipline in the 1940s, conservation superintendent Roberts Mann and others were in touch with Aldo Leopold and others at the University of Wisconsin as restoration concepts developed.

Researcher Natalie Bump Vena found:

“Following the Illinois Natural History Survey's recommendation, in 1940, Roberts Mann contacted a University of Wisconsin ecologist who was leading a prairie restoration with CCC labor in Madison. The ecologist, Theodore Sperry, traveled to Cook County in August 1940 to help the Forest Preserve District plan its own prairie restoration using work relief labor. Sperry drafted a plan for the work, but with the onset of WWII and the end of the work relief programs, the District had to abandon the restoration. Between Roberts Mann and Doc Thompson (who had worked at the Illinois Natural History Survey), an interest in prairies lingered in the Department of Conservation. During the 1950s, important Chicago-area naturalists, namely Floyd Swink and Doc Beecher, worked in that Department.

“Beginning in 1962, naturalists in the Forest Preserve District began developing expertise in prairie restoration by experimenting with land management techniques on property attached to the nature centers. In the mid-1960s there even existed a nursery for prairie plants in southern Cook County. People often attribute the first use of agricultural techniques in large-scale prairie restoration to Bob Betz in the 1970s. In fact, Westcott and naturalists at Crabtree Nature Center began using farm equipment to establish prairies there in the 1960s. At Camp Sagawau, Dave Blenz carried out a meticulous restoration that resembled Ray Schulenberg's Morton Arboretum project in technique.”[1]

For a time, the tree and grass species that were planted reflected what was available and practical, without limitation to local or even North American native species. But expectations changed as the prairie restoration experiments at the University of Wisconsin began to show that true ecosystem restoration was practical. David Blenz’ highly respected prairie restoration at Camp Sagawa was one of the first in the Chicago region.

Another strong influence on ecosystem management was the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission. Recognizing the importance of new insights into nature preservation, Forest Preserve Superintendent “Cap” Sauers was a founding member of the Commission and helped develop its principles and goals. When the Forest Preserve District enrolled key parcels of its land (as eleven of the first twelve Illinois Nature Preserves), it gave prestige and momentum to this important new institution.

Both Blenz and the Commission emphasized the importance of fire to the natural prairies. When in the 1970s, additional prairie restorations were planted at River Trail, Crab Tree, and Sand Ridge Nature Centers – controlled burns were conducted regularly by staff as a critical part of management. For the Nature Preserve prairies, such as Shoe Factory Road Prairie, Forest Preserve staff sometimes authorized the Nature Preserves Commission to take responsibility for the burns.

As was true for many agencies, prairie restoration fostered a rethinking of the basic principles of forest preserve management. Until the 1940s the consensus was to “leave nature to manage itself.” Gradually, ecologists and resource managers everywhere were learning that fire could be a valuable tool and than cancer-like invasive species could degrade healthy ecosystems and eliminate the diverse “natural flora and fauna.”

The heritage of Blenz and the ongoing work of Westcott, Strand, and others focused the Forest Preserve ecosystem restoration on the Nature Center plantings and the high quality prairies and savannas at Shoe-Factory Road, Sand Ridge, and Thornton-Lansing Road Nature Preserves.

In 1977, volunteers offered to help out on half a dozen little prairie remnants along the North Branch of the Chicago River. Superintendent of Conservation Roland Eisenbeis thought long and hard about approving their offer, but he was a dedicated conservationist, and the losses were increasingly apparent in many Forest Preserve grasslands, so in August of 1977 he approved a trial. The volunteers were given the okay to cut small brush with hand tools and gather and plant seed in the areas cleared. He also asked Westcott to be their mentor.  

It was an auspicious time for such a beginning. Television and newpapers often featured Dr. Betz’ prairie conservation efforts, and environmentalism was flowering everywhere. A spirit of optimism reigned as the national gloom of Viet Nam and racial conflict receded. Volunteers from the surrounding communities adopted the new mission, and the brushy or formerly mowed prairies increasingly burgeoned with life.

After an auspicious start to the North Branch experiment, “disaster” struck in August of 1978(?). Staff from the North Branch maintenance division mowed its prairies at the height of bloom. Although little long-term harm was done, it seemed like at least the maintenance staff were not “with the program.” A flood of phone calls and letters criticized this apparent reversal. Those objecting included neighbors, conservationists including Dr. William Beecher of the Chicago Academy of Sciences and, perhaps equally influentially, the Ward Committeeman from the Sauganash area. Support for the volunteer initiative that Eisenbeis had approved was impressive. The maintenance staff (not always on the same page with the conservation staff) was chastened.

At this point, Eisenbeis decided that the program needed more depth. He invited the highly respected Dr. Betz to tour the sites with forest preserve staff heads: Sam Gabriel (chief forester), Joe Nevius (landscape architect), John Mark (Superintendent of the North Branch Maintenance Division), and Eisenbeis himself. Representing the new North Branch Prairie Project (NBPP) were volunteers Larry Hodak and Steve Packard.

Betz endorsed the project and suggested expanding from just small brush and seeds to full prairie restoration. The meeting established ongoing relationships among all those present, which served the effort well for many years. One result was increased mentoring by Chuck Westcott, who began to supervise burns at the prairies. The entire leadership of the NBPP met from time to time with Eisenbeis and other staff to improve management plans and discuss progress. A key person who joined this process was Richard Buck, long time Chief Landscape Architect for the preserves. Though Eisenbeis was the ecologist and conservationist, Buck seemed to have more influence with staff outside the nature centers. He also shared ideas on prairie and forest restoration that dated back to his work with legendary preserves superintendent Cap Sauers.

Restoration expanded substantially in 1978 when the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission began to donate resources in support. It hired a Steve Packard to recruit volunteers for the most important preserves in the six counties of northeastern Illinois. The Nature Preserves Commission had already been doing some of the management in the District’s eleven nature preserves, and now Packard was able to provide more support to that effort. At that time, Illinois had a crop of young biologists and conservationists who were “state of the art” in ecosystem restoration. Packard joined in the training they all were getting and soon was writing management plans, supervising burns, and partnering with agency landowners in all six counties. Soon Cook County was benefitting from the advances of this new field as staff from the state and many counties worked on plans and developed techniques collaboratively. Key people in Cook County at this time were Marlin Bowles, Jerry Paulson, and Packard from the state along with Eisenbeis, Buck, Westcott, Strand, and eventually Ralph Thornton in the newly created position of Land Manager.

In 1983, Packard left the Commission and joined The Nature Conservancy (TNC), which recognized the opportunity to add resources to and expand this good program. TNC staffers who worked on the expanding number of Cook County restoration efforts in included Jill Riddell, Gill Moreland, Paul Dye, and Laurel Ross. The Conservancy trained its staff intensively, flying them to extended “field seminars” in Nebraska, California, Florida, and wherever the most respected scientists and land managers could teach the best planning and management. As with many agencies from coast to coast, the District’s contributed to and benefited from principles and practices being developed by the Conservancy.

Recognizing the need for more staff leadership, in 1995(?) the District added two key people to Thornton’s Land Management staff. Kelly Treese became Volunteer Coordinator and Steve Thomas became Restoration Ecologist. Although each site had its own individual management plan (initially in the form used by the Nature Preserves Commission but then moving toward the more simplified and practical forms developed by the Conservancy), Thornton and Thomas saw the need for county-wide plans and standards. Thomas developed the District’s first standardized community descriptions (for its various types of woodlands, grasslands and wetlands), with management protocols for each. Rather than re-inventing the wheel at each site, why not list the major problems and treatments appropriate to each community? Management plans could then cite the general protocols and focus on the detail of whatever is special about each site. As the Field Museum’s president Sandy Boyd later said about the work on Chicago Wilderness, “Nothing is ever born full grown.” But gradually the discipline of ecological restoration was maturing.    

Throughout the eighties and nineties, the restoration program grew, with staff support from both the Conservancy and the District. Familiar landscapes were being gradually changed in sometimes dramatic ways, and though public response had been overwhelmingly favorable, it seemed important to add more outreach. Well-known writer, birder, and conservationist Jerry Sullivan (formerly with TNC) joined the District staff and began producing materials to support the growing biodiversity conservation initiatives. Dave Eubanks (formerly with Openlands Project) joined the staff as “Greenways Planner.”

In the mid nineties, highly publicized protests were directed at the forest preserve conservation programs of DuPage, Lake, and Cook Counties. The conflict had initially focused on the deer control programs of these three counties, where the restoration efforts were most advanced. It expanded to include criticism of tree and brush control, fire, and herbicides. This “political headache” and “teachable moment” is described elsewhere, but part of the fallout included divisions within the staff. Disappointed and frustrated by perceived lack of support – Westcott, Thornton, Treese, Thomas, and Eubanks took early retirement or resigned. With the untimely death of Sullivan, the entire program needed to be rebuilt.

A new Volunteer Coordinator, William Koenig, made some progress at re-establishing the staff support for the volunteer program, but it was too much for one person. Yet he deserves great credit for restoring morale and maintaining the collaborative nature of the program. He also engaged Resource Management staffer, John McCabe, who gradually became the principal trainer (and defender from staff members who had been at odds with the program).

Partner organizations also increasingly chipped in. The Chicago Region Biodiversity Council (nick-named “Chicago Wilderness”) brought together the region’s best conservation scientists, land managers, planners and educators – dramatically improving the expertise available to staff and volunteers alike. Key Chicago Wilderness member organizations included the Field Museum, Openlands Project, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, U.S. Forest Service, National Park Service, Northeastern Illinois Planning Commission, Chicago Botanic Garden, Morton Arboretum, Chicago Academy of Sciences, Illinois Department of Natural Resources, Illinois Nature Preserves Commission, Nature Conservancy, Audubon, many universities, and all six of the region’s forest preserve and conservation districts. Some critics continued to complain that the science behind the conservation and restoration program was insufficient. But now they were clearly criticizing one of the most impressive assemblages of ecosystem management expertise on the planet, so the charges lost their credibility for most. 

Leadership from Nature Conservancy diminished (with changes in national priorities) as it discontinued its volunteer staff in the region. Packard and Ross went to the Audubon Society and Field Museum, expanding the partnership through these locally larger institutions. Nature Conservancy conservation scientists continued to advise.

A new organization, Friends of the Forest Preserves, also began to help. In one of its first initiatives, it joined with the Audubon Society and Sierra Club to organize an impressive “Land Audit” in which forty expert botanists with forty trained assistants took data on trees, shrubs, wildflowers, and grasses under protocols scientifically designed to assess the ecological health of the 55,000 most “natural” acres of the preserves. The study was supervised by Wayne Lampa, recently retired DuPage Forest Preserve ecologist, who had supervised a similar study there.

The results, widely reported by area newspapers, showed that the small areas under restoration were doing well, but that 68% of these preserves’ natural land were in poor condition. A parallel study of FPD management overall (conducted by Friends of the Forest Preserves and Friends of the Parks and coordinated by Steven Christy, former head of planning for the Lake County Forest Preserves) reflected the need for changes long recommended by FPD staff. These studies had a major impact on the FPD Board, and president John Stroger appointed an excellent Acting General Superintendent, Albert Pritchett, who began needed reforms. Stroger then hired a new General Superintendent (City of Chicago forestry chief Steve Bylina) who made major improvements. A Resource Management Department was created and many new resource managers hired.

The election of FPD Board President Toni Preckwinkle brought in many reform principles and Arnold Randall as General Superintendent. Substantial funds were appropriated for contract restoration work (gradually increasing to $5M in 2013) and the volunteer program got three new staffers (Kathy Wurster, Mike Saxton, and Jonathan Schlessenger) to strengthen and expand that program.   

The District (now calling itself the Forest Preserves of Cook County) is poised to embark on new leadership initiatives with its “Next Century Conservation Plan.”

This history past this 2014 post, of course. Parts are reflected in many subsequent posts. 

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[1] Natalie Bump Vena, Ph.D./J.D. candidate, Northwestern University, personal communication, December 12, 2013.