March Prairie Madness

“The more concerned we become with the things we can’t control, the less we will do with the things we can control.” —John Wooden

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Come hike with me, as March’s sunshine duels with storms and rainbows. Let’s get away from the news for while.

Glen Ellyn, IL.

March weather means brace for turbulence. Each forecast hangs by a thread…

Most likely a bald-faced hornet (Dolichovespula maculata) nest, Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

… and may change from moment to moment. When you’re inside watching college basketball you don’t notice the weather so much. But on a long hike! The weather is the thing. You check the sky each moment for clues about what the weather will throw at you next.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

So much going on along the trail. Mosses greening up…

Possibly seductive entodon moss (Entodon seductrix), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

…while fungi fans out orange on the fallen logs…

Fungi (possibly crowded parchment? (Stereum complicatum) mixed with mosses and lichens at Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

…and lichens crochet circles on the tree trunks.

Greenshield lichen (Flavoparmelia sp.), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

A few trees are eviscerated by prescribed fire, a different “March madness” that consumes all natural resource stewards and staff in the spring. There’s only a short window to put the flames on the ground; rejuvenating our woodlands and prairies. Will the weather cooperate?

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Other trees are poised between dormancy and leaf-out. Soon the woods will be misted with emerald. It’s the pause before the big dance between dormancy and awakening.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Rains and snowmelt have left large pools of standing water. No chorus frogs…yet. Too cold today.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Limestone trails are sloppy; the chalky slush clings to my hiking shoes.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

In the prairie ponds, a blue-winged teal paddles alone, back from its winter vacation down south.

Blue-winged teal (Anas discors), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen this duck species. What a pleasure to find one amid the common mallards, dabbling for goodies under the water’s surface! Although mallards are pretty handsome birds.

Mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Overhead, the first killdeer fly by, uttering their strange eerie cries. Feathers caught in the grasses and shrubs hint at other birds, still unseen.

Unknown bird’s feather, Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Large flocks of sandhill cranes pass over, calling to each other as they scrawl their calligraphy in the sky.

Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Waves and waves and waves of sandhill cranes… .

Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

As Jeff and I hike the seemingly endless trail under a shifting platinum sky, the sun occasionally illuminates the prairies around us. Then retreats. Deep in the grasses, white-tailed deer herd themselves from prairie to woodland. We count them as they spring across the prairie. Three…five…ten…thirteen.

White-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Then, they noiselessly vanish into the woods.

I turn my attention to the grasses. Can I identify the prairie plants in various states of decomposition?

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

I try. Tall coreopsis.

Tall coreopsis (Coreopsis tripteris), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Indian hemp.

Dogbane or Indian hemp (Apocynum cannabinum), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Indian grass.

Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Wild bergamot.

Wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Common milkweed.

Common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

And—a jumble of other plants in various stages of senescence.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

The soft, fuzzy common mullein, one of the forest’s aliens, push up toward warmth and sunlight.

The non-native common mullein (Verbascum thapsus), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Garlic mustard, another unwanted invader, announces its presence with its bright green leaves. Lots of stewardship work ahead.

Non-native garlic mustard (Alliaria petiolata), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Such a juxtaposition! The bright emerald growth of spring. The russets and taupes; ochres and chocolates of last year’s grasses, woody plants, and wildflowers.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

March is a season of transition. It’s ripe for the possibility of change.

The southwest skies darken. Wind ripples the grasses. We pick up our pace, feeling the aches and pains of almost five miles on the trail.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Out of breath, we reach the parking lot just in time. The first rumbles of thunder and raindrops are minutes away.

It’s the end of March on the prairie.

Bluebird house, Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Out with the old.

Fungi (possibly Daedaleopsis of some sort) and various lichen (Physiaceae), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Waiting for something new.

Bird’s nest, Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

April is a breath away. Another month to start fresh.

Glen Ellyn, IL.

Another month to wait, work, and hope for change.

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John Wooden (1910-2010), “The Wizard of Westwood,” is best known for winning ten NCAA national basketball championships— and a record seven in a row —during his tenure as coach with the UCLA Bruins.

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Join Cindy for a class or program this spring!

Literary Gardens–In Person: — Wednesday, March 29, 7-8:30 p.m. La Grange Park Public Library, LaGrange, IL. (Free but limited to the first 25 people). For more information, contact the library here.

The Tallgrass Prairie: Grocery Store, Apothecary, and Love Charm Shop: April 4, 7-8:30 pm. Free and open to the public. Presented by the Winfield Area Gardeners. For more information and location, visit here.

A Brief History of Trees in America: April 5 (Closed event for the Illinois Garden Council). Chicago Western Suburbs.

Literary Gardens — In Person — April 11, 7-8:30 p.m., Glenview Garden Club and Glenview Public Library. Free and open to the public, but seating is limited. Register here.

Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers — Monday, April 17, 5-6 p.m., Rock River Garden Club, Dixon, IL. (Closed event for members)

The Tallgrass Prairie: An Introduction — Tuesday, April 18, Algonquin Garden Club, 12:30-2 p.m. (Closed event for members)

Spring Wildflower and EthnobotanyWalk—Thursday, April 20, 8:30-10:30 am or Saturday, April 29, 8:30-10:30 am at The Morton Arboretum. Registration information here. (Both walks SOLD OUT, ask to be put on a waiting list)

The Tallgrass Prairie in Popular Culture –Sunday, April 23, 2-5 p.m. The Land Conservancy’s 32nd Annual Celebration, High Tea at the McHenry Country Club, Woodstock, IL. Tickets are $45-$70 — available here.

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Please visit Sandy Hook Promise to learn how you can help change gun violence.

The Last Wild Prairie Places

“Undisturbed remnants of ancient ecosystems, habitats for rare or threatened species, pristine stretches of river, unusual geologic features, exclamations of topography—-wild places aren’t merely beautiful landscapes; they possess a totemic lure, a power or presence that attracts people, sometimes across generational and cultural chasms spanning centuries.” — George Frazier

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Go west of Illinois. Drive through the small towns of Kansas.

Imagine thousands and thousands of acres of tallgrass prairie here.

Then discover the Flint Hills, which are just that.

Sweeps of bronze, backlit by sunshine, wash the prairie in early autumn. Big bluestem, little bluestem, switchgrass, and Indian grass predominate.

Bison are all around, plopped across the landscape.

Keep your distance.

To appreciate prairie here demands that you pay close attention. Look deep into the buffalo grass.

You might see something fuzzy.

Or rubbery.

You may see a critter in seemingly constant motion that is motionless for a moment.

Fall flowers add bright dabs of color.

Yellows.

A few purples and lavenders.

Blue blooms, as if the sky has flaked into the grasses.

Heath aster spangles its pale stars everywhere you look.

As you hike the miles and miles of trails…

…you feel a sense of something lost.

You catch the vision of what once was. And you wonder what the future here will be.

It’s in these last wild places that our imagination has room to take flight.

They are the “thin places” as the Celts tell us. Places that change the way we see the world. Perhaps these places are more precious to us because they have almost vanished. And still may.

Unless…we continue to pay attention and care for them. Share these wild places with others. Never lose our sense of wonder about them. Marvel.

And make time to go see.

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George Frazier is the author of The Last Wild Places of Kansas: Journeys into Hidden Landscapes  (University Press of Kansas), from which the opening quote in this essay was taken. This book was a wonderful companion for my first trip to the Flint Hills.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): barn in Burns, Kansas (population 228); trail through the autumn grasses, Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, KS; trail through the Flint Hills in autumn,  Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; lone bison (Bison bison), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; buffalo grass (Buchloe dactyloides), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; yellow bear caterpillar (Spilosoma virginica), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; unknown fungi, Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; red-legged grasshopper, (Melanoplus femurrubrum), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; prairie coneflower (Ratibida columnifera), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; curly-cup gumweed (Grindelia squarrosa), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; prairie blazing star (Liatris punctata), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; unknown aster, Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; blue sage (Salvia azurea), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; heath aster (Symphyotrichum ericoides), Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; trail through the Flint Hills in autumn, Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; feather caught in the tallgrass, Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; kite flying over Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, Strong City, Kansas; possibly an immature western meadowlark (Sturnella neglecta), cemetery in Burns, Kansas.

Thanks to Mike and Donna Kehoe, who generously hosted us in Kansas and who help keep the last wild places alive through books.

A Sense of Wonder

“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. ” –Rachel Carson

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We often talk about the five senses. But there is a sixth sense as well; rarely utilized. A sense of wonder.

How is your sense of wonder at the end of 2016? A little jaded? A bit cynical?

If so, try this.

Go for a twilight hike on the prairie with a child.

Let the child be your guide. See what they notice? Even dried seed capsules, like those of the evening primrose, seem touched with wonder.

There is no need to teach or instruct. Just observe. Marvel together at the signs of prairie voles, which tunnel through the snow. Discover their “luge”chute trails fingered across the prairie. Explore the tunnel holes. How deep do they go?

Inhale, air sharp with cold.

 

Does it smell of bee balm, all pepper and mint?

Now, look up.  At this time of day, you might see a “sundog” — those thumbprint rainbows–riding the sunset.

Look down. Taste a little of the cold, clean white stuff. Let it tingle on your tongue.

 

Twirl the brittle ribbons of big bluestem leaves, which take on new grace in last light.

Break off a grass stem. It’s the perfect writing instrument to draw on snow.

Queen Anne’s lace, an unwelcome intruder on prairie restorations, shocks with its eye-popping winter silhouette. A child doesn’t distinguish between invasive plants and native plants. So you are free to admire its intricate architecture together (even while you plot the weed’s demise come spring).

Stained glass has nothing on the last crumpled leaves of figwort, backlit by the sunset. Listen to it rustle in the breeze.

Squirrels print blue-shadowed butterflies across the prairie savanna. Where do they lead? Go, and find out.

Paths around the prairie were mowed before the snow, ready to act as barriers for the prescribed burn come spring. The chopped grasses look like toothpicks stuck in a sparkling sandy beach. Tan cigarettes stubbed out in an ashtray? Or — what do they remind you of?

Discover small, colorful things: a jumble of fungi, moss, and lichens blurred together on a broken branch.

 

Guess who made tracks at the edge of the stream? Hmmm.

A mink… I think. Getting a drink?

No matter how much you hike the tallgrass prairie, there is always more to discover; to see, touch, smell, taste, and listen to. Every time you spend time there, you’ll experience something new. Something wondrous.

As you hike, reflect. What road will you choose to travel in the new year? The way of cynicism about people, and disappointment in the world you find yourself in? Fear and anxiety about the future? Or the way of anticipation and wonder at the marvels all around?

It’s up to you.

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The opening quote was written by marine biologist Rachel Carson (1907-64), and comes from her book, The Sense of Wonder, which inspired this essay. Carson is best known for Silent Spring, which helped spark the conservation movement. The Sense of Wonder chronicles how Carson introduced her adopted son, Roger, (orphaned when her young niece died unexpectedly) to the marvels of nature. Carson overcame many discouraging professional obstacles–and heartbreaking personal tragedies–to create meaningful work on behalf of the natural world and to inspire us to pay close attention to its marvels. If you haven’t read The Sense of Wonder, it takes less than 30 minutes. A good investment of time, and a simple New Year’s resolution to keep.

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All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): sunset, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL: hiking at twilight, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; common evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL: vole tunnel, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL: Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; bee balm (Monarda fistulosa), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; sundog over author’s backyard prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL;  snow drifts, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; big bluestem leaf (Andropogon gerardii), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; drawing with grass stems, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL;  late figwort (Scrophularia marilandica), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; fox squirrel (Sciurus niger) tracks, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; mowed grasses, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; lichens, moss, and fungi, Schulenberg Prairie savanna, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; mink (Neovison vison) tracks along Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; sun halo with sandhill cranes (Grus canadensis) over author’s backyard prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL; road to Thelma Carpenter Unit, Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL. 

Advice from John Muir

“Keep close to Nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.” –John Muir

 

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You might not be able to climb a mountain, or spend a week in the woods in December, as the opening quote from John Muir advocates. But, a short walk in the winter prairie savanna does “wash your spirit clean.” Come hike with me and see why.

What is a prairie savanna, anyway? Very simply put, it’s a place that’s less dense than a forest, and has its own suite of plants. You may see tallgrass prairie plants, animals, birds, or critters you recognize here, as well. Especially on the edges.

Look around. In Conrad Station’s black oak savanna at Kankakee Sands in northwestern Indiana, there are traces of human habitation. People once remade this landscape into a place for commerce. But now — with the help of volunteers  and caring people –nature has reclaimed the savanna.

Dried fern fronds arch over the crunchy fallen leaves.

A recent rain beads mullein leaves with water drops.

Oaks, shorn of their fall finery, are decorated with shelf fungi. Elf staircases?

Seeds…so many seeds. The plant leaves curl as they dry, perhaps more beautiful in death than in life.

Towers of fungi rise from the savanna floor.

There are “muffins” everywhere. Mystery mushrooms? What could they be?

These kinds of questions  will give you many happy hours flipping through ID books later at home. After much searching in field guides, the “muffins” turned out to be purple-spored puffballs.

Moss spangles the trail.

Oak apple galls dangle from trees, their wasp-y occupants long since fled.

Open one,  and marvel at the “web” that once held a tiny developing oak apple gall wasp safely inside.

On your prairie savanna hike, you’ll see things you know. You’ll also discover new plants and other living things you can’t easily find names for. All it takes to “clean your spirit” is a little curiosity; a little energy.

You don’t have to hike alone — ask a friend or two to explore with you. Talk about what you discover.

Who knows what is waiting for you on your December walk in the prairie savanna?

Wherever you are — make time to go see. Take John Muir’s advice. It will “wash your spirit clean.”

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John Muir (1838-1914)  is known as the father of our National Parks. His love for the outdoors and activism on behalf of natural areas have been formative and inspirational for many naturalists, including myself. Although some find his superlatives heavy slogging, his books have been read by millions and have decorated many a dorm room poster. His words continue to inspire people today to develop a relationship with the outdoors, and care for the natural world.

Read more about the history of Conrad Station Savanna at The Nature Conservancy’s website:

http://www.nature.org/ourinitiatives/regions/northamerica/unitedstates/indiana/placesweprotect/conrad-station-history.xml

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All photos copyright Cindy Crosby; taken at Conrad Station’s black oak sand savanna at Kankakee Sands, The Nature Conservancy, Newton County, IN (top to bottom): starlings (Sturnus vulgaris) lifting off on the savanna’s edge; sweet fern (Comptonia peregrina) fronds; common mullein (Verbascum thapsus) leaves; various polypore (bracket) fungi (Family: Polyporaceae); unknown seedhead; white polypore (bracket) fungi (Family: Polyporaceae); purple-spored puffballs-late stage (Calvatia cyathiformis); haircap moss (Polytrichum spp.); oak apple gall (Amphibolips confluenta) on black oak (Quercus velutina); open oak apple gall (Amphibolips confluenta); hikers exploring the savanna (Homo sapiens). 

The Grassy Sea

“This dewdrop world  is a dewdrop world. And yet. And yet.” –Kobayashi Issa

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September draws to a close. The prairie dreams;  wakens later each morning.

You gaze at the grass, all waves, and wind, and water. A grassy sea.

Foam is kicked up by the churning of the grasses.

The clouds become the prows of ships, tossing on the tumultuous air…

And you realize fences, no matter how strong, can never contain the tallgrass, washing up against the wires.

Fungi cling like barnacles to dropped limbs on the edges of the grasses…

You reflect on how, after almost being obliterated, the tallgrass prairie has hung on to life; survival by  a thread.

It was a close call. Even today, prairie clings to old, unsprayed railroad right-of-ways in the center of industrial areas and landscaped lawns.

Little patches of prairie, scrabbling for life, show up in unlikely places.

Although the prairie’s former grandeur is only dimly remembered…

…and in many places, the tallgrass prairie seems utterly obliterated from memory, gone with the wind…

…the  prairie has put down roots again. You can see it coming into focus in vibrant, growing restorations, with dazzling autumn wildflowers…

…and diverse tiny creatures.

 

There is hope, glimpsed just over the horizon…

The dawn of a future filled with promise for a grassy sea.

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Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828), whose haiku opens this essay, was a Japanese poet regarded as one of the top four haiku masters of all time. He wrote this particular haiku after suffering tremendous personal loss.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): mist rising over prairie planting, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; autumn at Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), Conrad Savanna, The Nature Conservancy and Indiana DNR, Newton County, IN; Nachusa Grasslands in September, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; purple love grass (Eragrostis spectabilis) and sweet everlasting (Pseudognaphalium obtusifolium), Kankakee Sands, The Nature Conservancy, Newton County, IN; unknown fungi, Brown County State Park, Nashville, IN; marbled orb weaver in the grasses (Araneus marmoreus), Brown County State Park, Nashville, IN; big bluestem  (Andropogon gerardii) and other prairie plants along a railroad right-of-way, Kirkland, IN; prairie plants along an overpass, Bloomington, IN; thistles and grasses, Kankakee Sands, The Nature Conservancy, Newton County, IN; wind farm, Benton County, IN; great blue lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica), Kankakee Sands, The Nature Conservancy, Newton County, IN;  Eastern-tailed blue (Cupido comyntas), Brown County State Park, Nashville,  Indiana; Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL.