The April Prairie: After the Fire

“April outdoes all our effort to keep up with it.”—Niall Williams

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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.

Crosby’s Backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

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.

Russell Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

But take a closer look. As Jeff and I found on a recent hike this weekend, there’s plenty to experience.

Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Look closely. What are these, poking through the ashes?

Rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccifolium), Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

And listen. The chorus frogs are singing!

Chorus frogs (Pseudacris illinoensis) at College of DuPage’s Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Red-winged blackbirds call their oka-leeeeee! Oka-leeeee! Ahead of us, a killdeer dodges and darts through the blackened stubble.

Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus), Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

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????

Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

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.

Mallard duck (Anas platyrhynchos), Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

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.

Brown-headed cowbird (Molothrus ater), Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

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.

Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

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?

Cup plants (Silphium perfoliatum), Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

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.

Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

As Jeff and I hike the prairie perimeter, we find evidence of more bird activity.

Unknown egg, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

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.

Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

As I look for more eggs, I spy this.

Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

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?

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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.

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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.

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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?”

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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 1^st – April 30^th. 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 dupagemonarchs@gmail.com.  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.

Prairie Burn Paradox

“How we spend our days, is of course, how we spend our lives.” — Annie Dillard

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I’ve been re-reading Annie Dillard’s books this week and mulling over her words, like the ones that open today’s blog post. Thinking about how to spend my time wisely. It’s a challenge, isn’t it?

Walking the prairie after the burn, I’m reminded of time, and seasons of time, and our perception of it. As I hike, I’m surprised at the volume of sound. You’d think there would be silence on a charred landscape.

 

But the prairie is bustling and noisy. A killdeer cries its name as it sweeps across the ruins, looking for a place to build its nest. A just-burned prairie is exactly right. I hunt for the killdeer’s nests each spring, but they are such expert camouflage artists I’ve never found one. Maybe this will be my year.

Robins chatter, hopping along the banks of Willoway Brook, sifting the ashes for something good to eat. Overhead, waves and waves of sandhill cranes move high in the air, migrating north. So many! Thousands and thousands.  This weekend was host to the largest movement of cranes I’ve ever seen at one time in the Chicago region. Pelicans were migrating, too! Check them out.

Elation! Then I look around me. Such desolation. I always have mixed feelings after the burn. A prescribed fire on the prairie  leaves you with a sense of loss. Everything you knew written on that particular prairie slate is wiped clean. Close the book. Open a blank journal and begin a new season.

There is also a sense of relief. All my mistakes of the last year as a steward, writ large in reed canary grass growing vigorously by the brook, or the sneezeweed missing in action in the swale, are swept away.  This season, I can start fresh. Daunting? Yes. And challenging.

The fire leaves me with a sense of hope. That thicket of brambles? This will be the year we finally knock it back. We can seed in missing milkweeds; repair a deteriorating trail, add an interpretive sign or two.

Day by day—week by week—stewards, staff, and volunteers will write a new seasonal story together. Every pulled garlic mustard plant makes room for a new shooting star wildflower to bloom. Remove invasive buckthorn and open space and light for bee balm wildflowers to flourish.

Rain, sunshine, snow—-they’ll all help write the new seasonal prairie story. Deer, coyotes, dragonflies, the mink who swims the creek—-they’ll each have a paragraph or two.

The just-burned landscape is prelude to the most exciting time of the year on the tallgrass prairie. New growth. The first blooms.

The red-winged blackbirds sing me along the trail as the sun sets.  In the old, fire-damaged hawthorn tree, they mingle with brown-headed cowbirds whose lispy “clink! clink! clink!”  calls are percussion to the blackbirds’ brassy song. I try to count the birds—how many do you see?

Annie Dillard once wrote about a “Tree of Lights” —a tree full of blackbirds. I think about her story as I watch the birds settle in for the night.

Then, another sound. Coyotes! A pack. The coyotes are invisible. but their calls are close by. Their wails and yips are both mournful and excited.

 

 

 

Exactly how I feel as I walk the burned prairie tonight.

The visible and the invisible. The old and the new. The past and the present. The coyotes announce the passing of one chapter in the prairie’s story; the beginning of a new one.

Time to turn the page.

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Annie Dillard , whose quote opens this blog, won the Pulitzer Prize for Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (1974).  Read the full passage the quote was taken from here. One of my favorite sentences on her view of the way the world works: “It’s a hell of a way to run a railroad.” On writing: “Spend it all…do not hoard what seems good for (later).” Read the whole quote here. Wise woman. Wise words.

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All photos and video clip copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom):  bench on the Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; Schulenberg Prairie after the burn, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; American white pelicans ( Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) migrating, author’s backyard prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL; Schulenberg Prairie after the burn, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; unknown species of moss on a burned-out log along the Schulenberg Prairie trail, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; bramble (Rubus species unknown) and bee balm (Monarda fistulosa), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; bee balm (Monarda fistulosa) singed by fire, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; trail through the burned Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; 19 red-winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus)and brown-headed cowbirds (Molothrus ater)  in a hawthorn tree (probably Crataegus mollis), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; coyotes (Canus latrans) calling on the Schulenberg Prairie at sunset, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

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More from Cindy:

Just released last week! Available at your favorite bookstore or online.

New Podcast!

Thanks to Shannon at Take A Hike Podcast in Los Angeles! Click  here for the interview. Caution! Explicit dragonfly reproduction content in this podcast. 🙂

Cindy’s classes and speaking this week:

Nature Writing (online and in-person) continues this week at The Morton Arboretum. April 1–Dragonflies and Damselflies: The Garden and Prairie’s Frequent Flyers: LaGrange Garden Club, LaGrange, IL. (closed event). See more classes and events at http://www.cindycrosby.com.

Spring Prairie Moon

“Barn’s burnt down. Now, I can see the moon.” — Mazuta Masahide

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Sunset. A pearl button moon rises due east as the sun flames into the western horizon. Not quite the “Supermoon”  or full “Worm Moon” we’ll have on March 20, in conjunction this year with the vernal equinox.  This evening, we get an almost-there version over the prairie. A sneak preview.

The prairie is partly burnt. The crew came out today and torched the first sections, leaving a yin and yang of startling contrast.

Robins flitter and hop over the white ash, scrounging for worms on the scorched surface. March is a critical month for prescribed burns on the prairie. Each morning, natural areas managers check the signs. Wind speed? Check. Wind direction? Check. Humidity? Check.

Most of the prairies Jeff and I hiked this week were still untouched by fire.

Look deep into the grasses, and you’ll see snowmelt is still pooled around the remains of  Indian grass and big bluestem. Tough to burn.

Tonight, the prairie stream reflects a still-bare tree and sunset glow of cumulus clouds above.

My old touchstone, the praying mantis egg case I’ve watched through the winter, faces the dying light. It is unmarked by the flames, but empty of life.

On one side of the trail, ashes.

On the other, brittle grass stalks and old wildflower stems are prime kindling. Waiting for the burning to resume. The flattened tallgrass glimmers gold. Will the fire be tomorrow? A week from now?

On most prairies, the answer will be this: Soon.

Our old apple tree on the prairie has weathered many fires. We keep it, as it tells the story of its ancestor, an apple tree planted by the early settlers who first turned the tallgrass under the sharp knife of the plow. Trees like these once provided apples for making  “Apple Jack,” an alcoholic beverage. The drink offered temporary solace and medicine for those pioneers’ hardscrabble days.

In the receding light, I wonder. Could this be the battered tree’s last spring? Every year, it surprises me by putting out green leaves and flowers.Who knows? It’s resilient. It may be here long after I’m gone.

Tonight, walking this half-burned, ghost of last year’s tallgrass, I feel a rush of joy. Out with the old. I’m ready for something new. Let’s get it finished. Bring on the burn.

The air smells like a campfire. The memory of the taste of s’mores comes unbidden to my mouth and I realize it is long past dinnertime. Cooling temperatures and the dwindling light are clues the prairie and savanna are settling in for the night. Time to go home.

The red-winged blackbirds keep up their calling contest as I hike back to the car.

 

American robins flutter in and out of the trees, scouting for their bedtime snacks.

It’s almost dark. A blue bird appears. His vivid sapphire is bright in last light. He bounces for a few seconds on a burned -over bit of scrub that barely holds his weight. At about an ounce, I could mail him with a postage stamp.

I watch him sway a little longer over the ashes, then fly away. I feel a little bounce in my step as well.

Happiness! Spring.

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Mazuta Masahide (1657-1723) was a Japanese poet and samurai who was mentored by poetry master Matsuo Basho in the 17th Century in the art of haiku. Read more on haiku here.

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All photos and video copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): almost full moon over the Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; bridge to Schulenberg Prairie at sunset, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; March on Belmont Prairie, Downer’s Grove, IL; reflections of sunset in Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; Chinese praying mantis egg case ((Tenodera sinensis) ravaged by a bird, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; ashes from prescribed burn, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; flattened tallgrass at sunset, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; old apple tree (Malus pumila), Schulenberg Prairie Visitor Station, Lisle, IL; clouds over Belmont Prairie, Downer’s Grove, IL; video clip of dusk on the prairie and prairie savanna, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; Canada wild rye (Elymus canadensis), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; eastern bluebird (Sialia sialis), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL;

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Cindy’s March classes, announcements, and events this week:

Now Available! Tallgrass Conversations: In Search of the Prairie Spirit (with co-author Thomas Dean) is shipping from Ice Cube Press. $24.95, hardcover, full-color. Find it at fine places like The Arboretum Store in Lisle, IL: 630-719-2454; and Books on First in Dixon, IL: (815)285-2665 or at other bookstores across the Midwest.

Nature Writing: Blended Online and In-Person: Tuesday, March 18– continues at The Morton Arboretum through April 2.

March 22: Frequent Flyers of the Garden and Prairie: Dragonflies and Damselflies, Lombard Garden Club, Lombard, IL (Closed Event).

Tallgrass Prairie Ecology Online begins March 27 through The Morton Arboretum. All classwork done remotely. Register here.

Signs of Spring

It’s coming. Have you noticed?

 

Forget the scraps of snow still visible in the shadier corners of the prairie.

 

Overlook the still-cold temperatures.

The first signs of spring are everywhere. Sunrises are earlier.

 

Sunsets are later.

 

In our gardens and yards, daffodils, crocus, and hyacinths knife up their bundles of leaves.

 

Temperatures tease us by briefly climbing into the upper 50s. Snowdrops heed the signal; offer their first blooms. Who will break the news to them that a winter storm is in the forecast, only days away?

 

All our glimpses of early spring are not sweetness and light. This week, warm winds howled up to 60 mph across the prairie. A spring tantrum, more than a winter storm.

 

No longer frozen, the prairie paths shout “mud season!” Go for a hike, and your boots slurp, slurp, slurp with every step.

 

The ice that limned the creeks and streams has disappeared …  temporarily, anyway. Water runs fast with snowmelt; cold and clear.

 

Faintly familiar, but long-gone birds reappear and begin adding notes to the tallgrass soundtrack. Killdeer. The first tentative notes of red-winged blackbirds.  Winter’s juncos still hang around, not getting the spring memo. But give them a few weeks and they’ll pack their bags and head north. Soon the dickcissels and bob-o-links will be back on their regular tallgrass perches.

 

In the last days of February, I study the prairie sky for migrating snow geese. I see them thick as storm clouds on weather radar reports. Yet, the sky remains empty, except for a few ubiquitous Canada geese.

 

Nonetheless, I like knowing the snowies are flying somewhere above me. A sign of spring. On the move north.

 

On the move, like the life of the prairie. The end of one season;

… the beginning of something new.

Yes, there will be more snow and ice. February’s full moon is named by  Native American’s as the “Full Snows Moon.” I watched it rise last night; a harbinger of more snow and cold on the way.

But we’ve gotten our first whiff of spring.  And it is good.

 

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom):  Rice-Lake Danada prairie planting, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Wheaton, IL; trail, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; sunrise looking east from author’s backyard prairie patch,  Glen Ellyn, IL; sunset, Nachusa Grassland, Franklin Grove, IL; crocus shoots, author’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL; snowdrops, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; storm over the Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; muddy trail, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie savanna, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL;  dickcissel, Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL; Canada geese over the Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; snow geese and Ross’s geese, Bosque del Apache, San Antonio, New Mexico; sunset, Russell Kirt Prairie East, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL (looking west); full moon, author’s backyard prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.