“April outdoes all our effort to keep up with it.”—Niall Williams
What’s that, you say? It’s snowing?
Don’t put away those gloves and scarves yet. It’s April in the Midwest, and snow is part of the spring package. As Tom Jones sings, “It’s not unusual… .” The local newspaper tells me the Chicago region received measurable snow in seven of the past ten years in April, with almost eight inches in April 2019 (that blissful year before the pandemic). I’m grateful to see only flurries.
Snow or no snow, April is an exciting month on the tallgrass prairie—especially after a prescribed burn. At first glance you might believe there’s nothing worth seeing. A burned landscape seemingly holds little attraction.
But take a closer look. As Jeff and I found on a recent hike this weekend, there’s plenty to experience.
Look closely. What are these, poking through the ashes?
And listen. The chorus frogs are singing!
Red-winged blackbirds call their oka-leeeeee! Oka-leeeee! Ahead of us, a killdeer dodges and darts through the blackened stubble.
I reacquainted myself with this species recently at All About Birds, a terrific resource from Cornell University. I learned the killdeer is a proficient swimmer. What????
Jeff reminded me that killdeer are shorebirds. Here in the Midwest, they are some of the first birds to occupy the prairie after it is burned. But, when I think of birds that swim, I don’t think of killdeer. Rather, I think of ducks.
Mallards barely merit a glance from most folks. I’m convinced if they were rare we’d be ooohing and aaahhing over how beautiful they are. Look at those colors! Even on a gloomy day, the mallards brighten up the view.
Also lovely—but much despised — are the brown-headed cowbirds scattered across the prairie.
Back to Cornell’s All About Birds. I learn that instead of building a nest, the cowbird channels its energy into egg production and lays dozens of eggs over the season. These are deposited in other bird species’ nests. The cowbird progeny are then raised by these foster parent songbirds. Cornell calls cowbirds “brood parasites.” Many birders despise cowbirds as they are often responsible for destroying the eggs and young of some endangered species. But I can’t help but admire their striking colors as they pick their way across the prairie and chirp their “Clink! Clink! Clink!” song.
A hike on a blackened prairie is a reminder that the prairie is full of nuance. It’s not a drive-by landscape. Rather, it’s a place you need to spend time with. Get on your knees and look —- really look. Pay attention with all of your five senses. Can you still smell the smoke? What plants are completely gone? What areas were missed by the fire?
A burned prairie is also a reminder that there is hope after devastation. At different points in my life when everything seemed laid waste, the cycle of the prairie reminded me that with time, there was the possibility of change.
As Jeff and I hike the prairie perimeter, we find evidence of more bird activity.
I wonder who laid this now smashed egg? A Canada goose, maybe? The egg color and size looks right. There are plenty of Canada geese patrolling the borders of the prairie so it’s a reasonable hypothesis.
As I look for more eggs, I spy this.
After a prescribed burn, finding golf balls is inevitable, no matter which prairie you visit. I guess it is all—ahem—-par for the course when you hike the tallgrass prairie after a prescribed fire in April.
Why not go see?
The opening quote is from Niall Williams (1958-) , who with his partner Christine Breen wrote In Kiltumper: A Year in an Irish Garden. If you like books that follow the gardening year, month by month, this is a good one to investigate.
Join Cindy for a class or program in April! (Visit http://www.cindycrosby.com for more).
Tuesday, April 12, 7-8:30 p.m. The Tallgrass Prairie: Grocery Store, Apothecary, and Love Charm Shop at Glenview Public Library, Glenview, IL. Open to the public (in person). Click here for details.
Wednesday, April 13, 7-8 p.m. Add a Little Prairie to Your Garden for Glencoe Public Library and Friends of the Green Bay Trail. Online only, and open to the public. Register here.
April 25, 9:30-11am The Tallgrass Prairie: Grocery Store, Apothecary, and Love Charm Shop with Country Home and Garden Club, Barrington, IL (In person). Closed event. For more information on the garden club click here.
Join Cindy for one, two, or three Spring Wildflower Walks at The Morton Arboretum! Learn some of the stories behind these spring flowers. April 22 (woodland, sold out), April 28 (woodland) and May 6 (prairie, one spot open) (9-11 a.m.). In person. Register here.
The weather information in this blog post was taken from The Daily Herald, Sunday, April 3, 2022 written by Susan Sarkauskas, “Snow Flurries? In April?”
Calling All Poets! April 1-April 30th-– Check out this exciting project YOU can contribute to!
DuPage Monarch Project invites you to participate in Poets for Pollinators, a month-long celebration of nature’s wonders through poetry. Poems featuring bees, butterflies, birds and all pollinating creatures, as well as ones expressing the joy, comfort and delight found in nature will be posted on DuPage Monarch Project’s Facebook page April 1st – April 30th. New and experienced poets of all ages are welcome; this celebration is open to everyone. Multiple entries will be accepted. Please send poems to Lonnie Morris at firstname.lastname@example.org. Poems may be pasted into the email or included as an attachment. Authorship will be given unless anonymity is requested. Formatting in Facebook is challenging but we will make every attempt to present the poem as you have written it. Original photos are welcome. If you don’t have a photo of a favorite pollinator, one will be selected from the DMP photo library. If photos are sent, please include the name of the person who took the photo. By submitting a poem, you are granting DuPage Monarch Project the right to share it on the DuPage Monarch Project Facebook page. The poem will not be shared, used or included in any other manner than the Facebook post during the month of April.