The Prairie in Color

“We come and go but the land will always be here.” —Willa Cather

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Just when I made a New Year’s resolution to learn the names of cloud types, a sheet of gray stratus clouds moved in last week. Gray. Gray. Gray. That was the story here. There’s something to be said for consistency, I suppose. On a walk with friends along the Fox River this weekend, I looked for color. A few mossy greens. Some russet leaves.

Creek through Bennett Park, Fox River, Geneva, IL.

The creek that ran to the river reflected that metallic, stratus-filled sky.

As we watched the Fox River slip by, even the birds seemed to lack color. The Canada geese were spiffed up in their yin-yang tuxedoes.

Canada geese (Branta canadensis), Fox River, Geneva, IL.

Common mergansers floated by, intent upon their errands, barely within the reach of my camera.

Common mergansers (Mergus merganser), Fox River, Geneva, IL.

In the distance, a few common goldeneyes floated just out of reach of my zoom lens. But wait—what’s this?

Tundra swan (Cygnus columbianus), Fox River, Geneva, IL.

A tundra swan! A bird I’ve never seen, and one of the more infrequent ones for Illinois. Our friends, who brought us here specifically for this reason, pointed out the ID markers which differentiate it from other swans, including a small amount of yellow on the bill.

Nearby, two other tundra swans floated under the flat, silvered sky.

Tundra swans (Cygnus columbianus), Fox River, Geneva, IL.

I knew that later, hours of my afternoon would be spent reading more about these unusual birds, and trying to understand more about what we had seen.

The last bird of the morning turned out to be one of the metallica species.

Fox River, Geneva, IL.

Ha! Almost fooled me.

Along the shoreline, I spotted a few prairie plant favorites. Familiar, but still welcome. Wild bergamot mingled with evening primrose.

Wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) and evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), Fox River, Geneva, IL.

Blue vervain’s silhouette was set off by the river’s reflection of that silvered sky.

Blue vervain (Verbena hastata), Fox River, Geneva, IL.

And—is that a mallow? I love the cracked-open seed pods of mallow…perhaps it’s the native swamp rose mallow? iNaturalist thinks so, but I’m not completely sure.

Swamp rose mallow (Hibiscus grandiflorus), Fox River, Geneva, IL.

Plant identification in winter is always a challenge. If this is swamp rose mallow, it is a far cry from those beautiful pink blooms in the summer. (You can see them here.)

Thinking about swamp rose mallow reminds me of Pantone’s recent pick for “Color of the Year” — “Viva Magenta.”

Courtesy Pantone.

You can see why the swamp rose mallow would approve! Thinking about the mallow and its magenta leads me down the rabbit trail of other prairie magentas. After I posted the “Viva Magenta” color of the year announcement this week on Facebook, many folks chimed in with their favorite magentas in nature.

Prairie smoke.

Prairie smoke (Geum triflorum), University of Wisconsin-Madison Arboretum, Madison, WI. (2019)

Prairie sunrises and sunsets…

College of DuPage Natural Areas, Glen Ellyn, IL (2018).

The deep, rich magenta of dogwood stems in winter.

Afton Forest Preserve, DeKalb, IL (2021).

The rich magenta of sumac-washed leaves in autumn.

Smooth sumac (Rhus glabra), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL. (2020)

The bramble sharp branches of iced wild blackberry, which winds its way through the prairie, ripping and tripping.

Common blackberry (Rubus allegheniensis), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2021)

I think of the dragonflies I chase across the prairies in the summer’s heat. None of the Illinois’ species bring the color magenta to mind. But! I remember other dragonflies in other places, like this roseate skimmer in Tucson, Arizona.

Roseate skimmer dragonfly (Orthemis ferruginea), Sabino Canyon, Tucson, AZ. (2021)

Today, here on the Fox River, magenta isn’t much in evidence. But there’s joy in every bit of color along this river, no matter how subtle.

Fox River, Geneva, IL.

There is delight in remembering the times nature has exploded with “viva magenta” both in flight…

Roseate spoonbill (Platalea ajaja), J. N. “Ding” Darling National Wildlife Refuge, Sanibel Island, FL. (2020)

…and in bloom.

Hibiscus (Hibiscus sp.), Captiva Island, Florida (2019).

And there is happiness in seeing some rarities that while, perhaps lacking in color, don’t lack for excitement and awe.

Tundra swan (Cygnus columbianus) feather, Fox River, Geneva, IL.

Who knows what else January may bring? The new year is off to a great start.

Why not go see?

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The opening quote is from writer Willa Cather (1873-1947) from O Pioneers! Cather spent part of her childhood in Nebraska, and graduated from University of Nebraska-Lincoln. She wrote compellingly about life on the prairies.

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Join Cindy for a Class or Program this Winter

The Tallgrass Prairie in Popular Culture—Friday, January 20, from 10-11:30 a.m. Explore the role the tallgrass prairie plays in literature, art, music—and more! Enjoy a hot beverage as you discover how Illinois’ “landscape of home” has shaped our culture, both in the past and today. Class size is limited. Offered by The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL; register here.

Nature Writing Workshop— Four Thursdays (February 2, 9, 16, and 23) from 6-8:30 p.m. Join a community of nature lovers as you develop and nurture your writing skills in person. Class size is limited. For more information and to register visit here.

Looking for a speaker for your next event? Visit www.cindycrosby.com for more information.

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Illinois Prairie needs you! Visit Save Bell Bowl Prairie to learn about this special place—one of the last remaining gravel prairies in our state —and to find out what you can do to help.

Special thanks to John and Tricia this week for showing us the tundra swans!

Under the Prairie Ice

“To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering.”–Aldo Leopold

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Polar Vortex! In the Illinois prairie region, all the chatter is about the week’s forecast: wind chill temperatures of 50-plus degrees below zero. Brrr! It’s a good time to dream a little bit about the summer to come.

One of my favorite tasks as a prairie steward is monitoring dragonflies.  People often ask me in the winter, Where are the dragonflies now? How do they survive the brutal cold? 

Some, I tell them, like the green darners and black saddlebags, have migrated south to reproduce. Later generations journey back north again, much like the well-publicized monarch butterfly. But most of our dragonflies are still here—in the nymph stage—under the surfaces of streams, ponds, and pools of prairie wetlands, waiting for spring and warmer temperatures. Under the prairie ice.

Dragonflies and their population changes tell us a lot about our water quality. Dragonfly responses to climate also help us understand what we see happening in the see-sawing temperatures and weather changes in the world around us. Good reasons to care! With this in mind, citizen scientists monitor dragonflies of all species, tracking their numbers each year.

We need our dragonflies. I’ve spent a lot of time kayaking and looking for dragonflies and damselflies on Silver Lake at Blackwell Forest Preserve in Warrenville, Illinois, just for fun.  But now, in this January cold, the lake is full of ice fisherman.

Just across the preserve, not far from the ice fishing houses, is my destination—the Urban Stream Research Center. Here, one of our most vulnerable insect species, the Hine’s emerald dragonfly, is being reared.

Some people dream of meeting sports heroes. Others, their favorite rock star. Me, I dream of seeing the Hine’s emerald dragonfly (Somatochlora hineana) winging its way through a prairie preserve. It’s our only federally-endangered dragonfly. Finicky? Yes! It has a lot of special requirements, including shallow flowing water and time spent in burrows made by the devil crayfish. 

During the winter months, I pore over my favorite dragonfly field guide by Kurt Mead,  part of the North Woods Naturalist Series…

… and open it to the Hine’s emerald dragonfly spread. Then, I think what it would be like to see the real thing.

Today, I’ll get part of my wish.

Heading up the project in its third year in the Chicago Region is DuPage County Forest Ecologist Andrés Ortega. His enthusiasm for dragonflies and passion for the project are evident from the first moment of my arrival at the center.

Andrés reaches into a refrigerator, and pulls out a dozen vials of tiny Hine’s emerald dragonfly nymphs.

The dragonfly nymphs are in “diapause,” just as nymphs are outdoors. These nymphs enjoy cool refrigerator temps of about 40 degrees Fahrenheit;  their normal overwintering temperature, Ortega tells me.

The eggs were gathered from gravid female dragonflies at known breeding sites in DuPage and Cook Counties, Andrés tells me.  Once netted, the tip of the female dragonfly’s abdomen is dipped into water—a process that simulates ovipositing—causing her to release her eggs. After the eggs are harvested, they are taken to a research laboratory in South Dakota. Here, they hatch and are cared for through their first months or even years of nymph life.

Then, they are driven to Illinois and hand-delivered to Ortega at the Urban Stream Research Center.

These are ferocious little critters. Andrés tells me they keep similar-sized nymphs with other similar-sized nymphs, as larger ones will enjoy the smaller ones for dinner if thrown together. Cannibalism! It’s a bug-eat-bug world out there. Staff carefully control the water quality (which should not be too clean) and water temperature.

In the spring, the nymphs will be released into the research center’s indoor raceways. These are long pools that mimic stream-like conditions. The temperature of the water in the raceways is carefully calibrated to reflect the rising temperatures outdoors.

Raceways are custom made by employees expressly for the dragonfly rearing. Sand, rocks, frayed rope pieces, and plastic aquarium plants offer hiding places for the nymphs. In about mid-May, the nymphs will begin feeding from a menu that includes small crustaceans and midge larvae. The screens and netting will keep midges from escaping and interfering with other research work at the center, such as mussel propagation.

It will take the dragonfly nymphs about four to five years to reach maturity, from the egg stage to the beautiful creatures of the air I see in my field guide. When ready to emerge, they will be released into suitable nature preserves in the state.

Ortega tells me that less than one percent of the Hine’s emerald dragonfly nymphs survive in the wild. Pretty slim odds, aren’t they?  I’m grateful to people like Andrés Ortega. He is one of our unsung heroes, doing the hard work of keeping part of the natural world from vanishing forever.

The next time you see a frozen prairie stream or pond this winter, think of the many different species of dragonflies waiting to emerge, just underneath the surface. Who knows? This might be the year we see more of the Hine’s emerald dragonflies, cruising through prairie wetlands. I’m planning to show up and look.

How about you?

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The Aldo Leopold quote that opens this essay is from Round River. Leopold is often referred to as the father of wildlife ecology and the United States’ wilderness system. Please visit The Aldo Leopold Foundation’s website to learn more about Leopold and his work, which is carried on today.

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Grateful thanks to Andrés Ortega for his tour of the Urban Stream Research Center; his patient answers to all my questions;  his reading and suggested edits for this blogpost (all remaining errors are my own); and his terrific work with dragonflies. Contact him at aortega@dupageforest.org.

Many thanks to super nice guy Kurt Mead, author of Dragonflies of the North Woods, Third Edition (2017), and Sparky Stensaas, co-owner of Kollath+Stensaas Publishing, who approved using the cover and pages with the Hine’s emerald dragonfly for this post (and also thanks to photographer Troy Hibbitts whose Hine’s emerald images (thehibbets.net) appear on those pages. If you are interested in dragonflies, you should own this beautiful guide–it is indispensable for Midwestern dragonfly chasers, even if you live a little further south of the North Woods (I live in Illinois).  Order from your favorite local bookseller, or online here.

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All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): Mt. Hoy, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; cold day at Springbrook Prairie, Naperville, IL; hundreds of Canada geese (Branta canadensis) on open water of Springbrook Creek at Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL;  male calico pennant (Celithemis elisa), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL:  ice fishing shacks on Silver Lake, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; Urban Stream Research Center, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; Cover of Dragonflies of the North Woods, Third Edition, by Kurt Mead (2017), courtesy Kollath+Stensaas Publishing and Kurt Mead; interior spread, Dragonflies of the North Woods, Third Edition, by Kurt Mead (2017), courtesy Kollath+Stensaas Publishing and Kurt Mead. Andrés Ortega (Homo sapiens), ecologist, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; vials of Hine’s emerald dragonfly (Somatochlora hineana) nymphs, Urban Stream Research Center, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; Hine’s emerald dragonfly (Somatochlora hineana) nymph, Urban Stream Research Center, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; Hine’s emerald dragonfly (Somatochlora hineana) nymph,Urban Stream Research Center, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; Hine’s emerald dragonfly (Somatochlora hineana) nymph, Urban Stream Research Center, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; water system, Urban Stream Research Center, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; raceway system, Urban Stream Research Center, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; life support system, Urban Stream Research Center, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL; Fox River, Geneva, IL.

Prairie Epiphanies

“Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.” — John Milton

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Did you make a New Year’s resolution? One of mine is to visit nearby prairies and natural areas I’ve overlooked. Today, it’s Ferson Creek Fen Nature Preserve, in the western Chicago suburb of St. Charles.

I have a soft spot for preserves with a mosaic of different habitats. Ferson Creek Fen ticks off a lot of boxes. Restored prairie.

Wetland.

Floodplain forest.

The Fox River.

And yes—a namesake fen. What is a fen, you might ask? Here, think of low lands with peaty soil (usually alkaline—in this case—calcareous) that flood, brimming with wet-loving plants.

A boardwalk stretches through part of the preserve, protecting the sensitive wetlands. You can see the Fox River as a sliver of light in the distance.

It’s quiet in the 50-degree weather of this early January day. Our winter coats feel unnecessary.

A gull flies upstream.

Ice drifts in the current, not yet melted in the bright sun.

Downstream, a few kayakers brave the frigid water. The wetlands are painted with freeze and frost in the shadows. Cold is relative, when the sun is shining unexpectedly and the air teasingly whispers “spring.”

The warm planks of the boardwalk offer secure footing in the sunlight.

A steady hum of traffic to the west, punctuated by the squeaky calls of a white-breasted nuthatch nearby, compose the soundtrack for our hike. In the distance, Jeff and I see half a dozen unknown birds roosting in a tree. We step off the boardwalk to investigate. Hoping for something unusual, we plunge ahead on the grassy trail and discover…

…a tree full of….

…common mourning doves.

Ah, well.

They fly up at our approach, and despite myself, I marvel at the gradation of pastel colors in their feathers, dotted with inky black. The pink feet. Their eyes like polished jet-black beads.  I remember my grandmother, a science teacher, teaching me the call of the mourning dove. It was the first bird call I ever learned.

It’s a good reminder for me. There is beauty in the ordinary.

Complexity in everyday things.

All we have to do to is look.  Take a moment to reflect. Remember.

And be grateful.

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John Milton (1608-1674) was a British poet and writer, best known  for his epic poem Paradise Lost.  He also wrote the speech, Areopagitica, in a time of political and religious unrest (1644), an argument for freedom of speech, of the press, and of expression. He eventually went blind (probably from untreated glaucoma) in his late forties, then was imprisoned by a hostile regime and forced to leave his home. His poetry and works on religion and politics continue to be read long after his death.

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All photos copyright Cindy Crosby at Ferson Creek Fen Nature Preserve, St. Charles, IL (top to bottom) common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) with unknown aster seedheads; remains of an unknown sunflower; ice on duckweed (probably common duckweed Lemna minor, but could be greater duckweed Spirodela polyrhiza or star duckweed (Lemna trisulca) and cattail base (Typha, either common latifolia, narrow-leaved angustifolia or hybrid xglauca); floodplain forest; the Fox River in January; view from the boardwalk; boardwalk through the nature preserve; Fox River reflections in January; unidentified gull flying downstream on the Fox River;  ice floes on the Fox River; view from the boardwalk; probably a red oak (Quercus rubra) leaf on the boardwalk; grassy trail; mourning doves (Zenaida macroura) roosting in a tree; willow pinecone gall made by the gall midge (Rabdophaga strobiloides); cattails (Typha latifolia, angustifolia, or xglauca) backlit by the sunlight.

Thanks to John Heneghan and Tricia Lowery for telling us about the preserve!

Finding Our Story in the Tallgrass

“Owning our story can be hard, but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it.” –Brene Brown

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October is a good month for reflection.

As I walk the two prairies where I monitor dragonflies, it’s quiet. A few common green darners still buzz drowsily about, but they are the exception. Most of the dragonflies–eastern amberwings, prince baskettails, blue dashers– have migrated south or laid eggs and finished out their brief lives in the tallgrass. The sky and creek banks seem emptier without them.

At home, I collate my monitoring reports, doublecheck photos against ID’s, rejoice over new species added, and wonder why some of the dragonfly species I expected didn’t show up this season. Or was it me that didn’t show up to see them at the right time? Tough to know.

I make plans for next year.

Soak up the satisfaction of another year almost wrapped up, with all the joys and disappointments that it contained.

It’s not just me that’s evaluating the year. At Nachusa Grasslands,  bison are assessed at an annual round-up this month. The rest of the 364 days, they are free to roam in the tallgrass.

A round-up is a chance to check-in on their well-being; to count shaggy heads, and to vaccinate bison against potential diseases.

The bison don’t care for the process much, but monitoring their health and taking a little preventative action ensures they have a more stress-free future. Sure, it takes time and energy to do these assessments –but in the long run, it pays off.

In October, I find the prairie is a good place for personal reflection; a little self-assessment. Alone in the tallgrass, without the distractions of my cell phone, laptop, or work to be completed, my mind quiets. I think about how the year has unfolded so far. Look with more perspective at the rest of 2016 to come, with its busy rounds of holidays, family, and year-end tasks.

The hot and sweaty hours I’ve spent on the prairie this season managing weeds, cutting brush, and putting in new prairie plants comes to fruition in the wash of color and foaming of seedheads across the tallgrass in October. The hours I’ve walked, and looked, and written down species and numbers of dragonflies, are finished. I begin wrapping up some projects, and plan what is next.

What would I choose to do differently, if I could? What do I find difficult to change? What brought me joy?  Did I risk enough? Was I present when I needed to be? Did I show up?

The seeds I’ve collected and the sheets of dragonfly data are a reminder of what I’ve accomplished…and didn’t accomplish.  How do I want to move forward into the next season?

It’s easy to let life happen to us, instead of being intentional about life. Each year brings new joys, disappointments, and opportunities. There is so much more ahead.

I want to be thoughtful about how I embrace each coming day.  Intentional. But open to whatever unfolds. Most of all, I want to be present. To show up.

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The opening quote is by Brene Brown (1965-) a research professor and the author of “The Gifts of Imperfection.” The full quote includes this line: “Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky, but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy–the experiences that make us most vulnerable.” Well said.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): sunrise, Hidden Lake Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Downer’s Grove, IL; eastern amberwing dragonfly (Perithemis tenera), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; whorled milkweed (Asclepias verticillata), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; stiff goldenrod (Oligoneuron rigidum) in big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) , Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), and little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL;  stiff goldenrod (Oligoneuron rigidum)  Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; bison (Bison bison), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; bison (Bison bison) roundup, Nachusa Grassland, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; bison (Bison bison) roundup, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; great blue heron (Ardea herodias) watching for a fish, Fox River, Geneva, IL; October at Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; upright carrion flower (Smilax lasioneuron), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; volunteers heading back to the barn with seeds, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; bridge at Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.