Tag Archives: tiger moth

A Prairie Wildflower Ambassador

“One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between man and nature shall not be broken.” —Leo Tolstoy

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I thought I’d missed the rare white lady’s slipper orchids as I’ve hiked the prairies in Illinois this spring. Turns out, they were just running fashionably late.

White lady’s slipper orchid (Cypripedium candidum), Illinois.

Aha! Here you are. Welcome back.

White lady’s slipper orchid (Cypripedium candidum), Illinois.

If you look at Gerould Wilhelm and Laura Rericha’s amazing reference guide, Flora of the Chicago Region’s entry for the orchid, the blooms aren’t late at all. Their entry notes that this orchid may flower between April 23 and June 2. So “late” is relative—just my own experience. White lady’s slipper orchids are so tiny; not like their bigger cousins, so they are also easy to overlook.

White lady’s slipper orchid (Cypripedium candidum), Illinois.

In some regions of Illinois, these little orchids are visited by small native halictid bees. The scientific name, Cypripedium is from the Greek, meaning “Aphrodite,” the goddess of love and beauty. The specific epithet, candidum, means “shining white.” Appropriate for this unusual wildflower.

White lady’s slipper orchid (Cypripedium candidum), Illinois.

The legal status of the small white lady’s slipper is “threatened” in Illinois; it is also ranked as “rare.” White lady’s slippers are also monitored as Plants of Concern through the Chicago Botanic Garden to continually assess their health and abundance in Illinois. (Visit them to see how you can help!) These orchids are jewels of the moist sunny prairies, and don’t handle shade well. When prairie remnants are neglected and left unburned, shrubs and trees take over and reduce the amount of habitat for this wildflower. It’s another reason for us to manage and care for our irreplaceable tallgrass prairies.

Prescribed fire on an Illinois prairie (March 2021).

These lovely orchids are also great ambassadors for conservation. While most folks won’t get too excited about other high-quality plants flowering now, such as bastard toadflax…

Bastard toadflax (Comandra umbellata), Illinois.

…. or hairy beardtongue, just about to bloom…

Hairy beardtongue (Penstemon hirsutus), Illinois.

…violet sorrel…

Violet sorrel (Oxalis violacea), Illinois.

…or the common valerian…

Common valerian (Valeriana edulis var. ciliata), Illinois.

…all ranked “eight” or higher in Flora of the Chicago Region’s co-efficiency of conservatism, they will get excited about lady’s slippers (a “10”–of course!). Orchids bring out the desire to protect and save prairies in Illinois. While the various prairie photo locations in today’s blog are left undivulged (for the protection of these lovely wildflowers), knowing the orchids continue to grow and thrive are a delight to our collective imagination. As “wow wildflower ambassadors,” they also help communities preserve prairies where less charismatic critters live, like the tiger moth caterpillars…

Tiger moth caterpillar (possibly the reversed haploa moth, Haploa reversa), Illinois prairie.

…or the eastern wood-pewee, which hangs out along the prairie edges…

Eastern wood-pewee (Contopus virens), Illinois.

…and other creatures which need healthy natural areas to survive. Finding the orchids alive and thriving this spring makes me feel optimistic for the future of the tallgrass prairie.

White lady’s slipper orchid (Cypripedium candidum), Illinois.

Thanks, orchids.

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Note to the reader: No locations are given for today’s blog because of the conservation status of the orchid. The photographs above are from several different Illinois prairies.

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The opening quote is from Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910), the author of such works as War and Peace and Anna Karenina. His writing on non-violent resistant influenced Martin Luther King, Jr., and Gandhi. Tolstoy was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature many times and also, the Noble Peace Prize, but never won; these decisions continue to be controversial today.

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Join Cindy for a program or class! Visit www.cindycrosby.com for more upcoming events, and updates on any Covid changes or requirements for in-person gatherings.

Thursday, May 26, 10:30am-noon: Stained Glass Stories of the Thornhill Mansion, in person at The Morton Arboretum. Open to the public. Register here.

Thursday, May 26, 6:30-8 pm: Add a Little Prairie to Your Garden, hosted by Old St. Patrick’s Church Green Team on Zoom. Register here.

Sunday, June 5, 2-3:30 pm: Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers, Downers Grove Public Library and Downers Grove Garden Club. Kick off National Garden Week with this in-person event! Open to the public. Click here for more information.

Wednesday, June 8, 7-8:30 p.m. Lawn Chair Lecture: The Schulenberg Prairie’s 60th Anniversary. The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. Bring your lawn chair and enjoy sunset on the prairie as you hear about the people, plants, and creatures that have made it such a treasure. Tickets are limited: Register here.

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If you love the natural world, consider acting on behalf of Save Bell Bowl Prairie. Read more here about simple actions you can take to keep this important Midwestern prairie remnant from being destroyed by a cargo road. Thank you for caring for prairies!

Fire Season

Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.” -Gilda Radner

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The smell of smoke drifts through our open windows. A few miles away, a white plume rises.

Fire! Prescribed fire.

At the forest preserves, the Arboretum, and conservation sites, flames creep along the woodland floor. Embers smolder. A tree chain smokes.

It’s prescribed burn season in the woodlands, and even on a few prairies and wetlands. In the Chicago region, a stream of blessedly warm, dry days have made conditions right for fire.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

Fall burns are a management tool stewards and site staff use to encourage healthy natural areas. Spring burns will follow in 2021. In late winter or early spring, we burn the tallgrass prairies.

Because of COVID in 2020, many prairie stewards and staff were unable to gather in large groups to use prescribed fire. For those of us used to seeing this predictable cycle of the prairie season, the unburned prairies—now tangled and tall—were one more curveball in an unpredictable year.

I missed the usual spring dance of fire and flammable grasses; the swept-clean slate of a newly-burned prairie this March. Early wildflowers were difficult to find, buried under the thatch of last-year’s Indian grass and big bluestem. The prairies, untouched by flame, seemed out of kilter all summer. Alien.

This spring, prairie willows flowered. For the first time in remembrance on one prairie where I volunteer, prairie roses put on second year growth. Now, in November, the willows are thick and tall. Bright rose hips are sprinkled through the brittle grasses.

Although I’m not working on the fire crews this season, I feel a rush of adrenaline when I see the tell-tale towers of smoke in the distance. They tell me life is back on track again. That there is some semblance of normality. Welcome back, prescribed fire.

Out with the old, in with the new. Sweep away this year. Let’s start over.

Fire can be a destructive force. But these fires are healing.

They bring the promise of rejuvenation. I know next spring and summer, the prairies, savannas, and woodlands will brim with color. Motion. New life.

As I hike the trails and drive through areas being burned, I watch the flames lick the ground clean of the remains of 2020. Hikers stop and gawk. Through the haze, cars move slowly. Driver’s rubberneck. A yellow-slickered volunteer talks to two walkers, waving her hands as she explains why they are torching the woodlands.

It’s a seeming grand finale for the plants on the woodland floor. But under the ashed soil, the roots of wildflowers and grasses wait for their encore. Spring.

Change is on the way.

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Last week, as Jeff and I hiked the prairie trails, we saw them. Woolly bear caterpillars! These forerunners of the Isabella tiger moths were a delightful appearance in the midst of a chaotic week; a sign that the regular rhythm of the seasons was in play. Their appearance was calming. I knew these woolly bears—or “woolly worms” as some southerners call them—were looking for an overwintering spot.The woolly bear’s stripes, according to folklore, predict the coming winter weather.

The small cinnamon stripe I saw on this one points to a severe winter. Hmmm.

Last autumn, the woolly bears I found had a larger cinnamon stripe than this season, indicating a mild winter. I riffled through the old digital records on Google and discovered that in 2019-2020, we had the fourth-warmest December through February period on record.

Way to predict the weather, woolly bear! Although science doesn’t put a lot of stock in these caterpillar forecasts, it’s a fun idea. It will be interesting to see how the 2020-2021 winter season shakes out, stripe-wise.

We like to know what’s coming. We want to know the future. Yet the past eight months, we’ve learned to live with ambiguity. Each day has brought its particular uncertainty—perhaps more than many of us have ever had—in one big gulp.

Life is full of ambiguity, even in the best of times. This year—when even simple rituals like meeting a friend for a morning at the coffee shop have been upended—it’s been draining. Fear and anxiety are constant companions for many of us. Some have lost loved ones. Others have grappled with an illness our medical professionals are still trying to get a handle on. And yes, even the comforting work we do on prairies and natural areas came to a stop for a while.

I’m grateful for the woolly bears, and the normal rhythm of life they represent. I’m also grateful for the fires I see, although for the 100-acre Schulenberg Prairie—like many other prairies—the prescribed burn will be set in the spring. But the mowed firebreaks are a foreshadowing of what’s to come.

New beginnings are ahead.

I feel my spirits lift, thinking about a fresh start. A new season.

I’m ready. Let’s go!

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The opening quote is from Gilda Radner (1946-1989) an original cast member of the comedy show “Saturday Night Live.” One of her best-quoted lines, “It’s always something.” She died from ovarian cancer.

All photos and video copyright Cindy Crosby and are taken at The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL, unless otherwise indicated (top to bottom): smoke plume from prescribed burn, East Woods; video of prescribed burn, East Woods; tree on fire, East Woods; smoke in the East woods; ashes after prescribed burn, East Woods; Schulenberg Prairie prescribed burn (2013); Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie; New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae), Schulenberg Prairie; rose hips (Rosa carolina), Schulenberg Prairie; Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), Schulenberg Prairie; burned over prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis) on the Schulenberg Prairie parking lot strip; Schulenberg Prairie Savanna in summer; prescribed burn in the East Woods; woolly bear (Pyrrharctia isabella), Hidden Lake Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Downer’s Grove, IL; woolly bear (Pyrrharctia isabella) on stiff goldenrod (Oligoneuron rigidum), Schulenberg Prairie (2019); prescribed burn sign; mowed firebreak on the Schulenberg Prairie; bridge at Hidden Lake Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Downer’s Grove, IL; possibly a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis), West Side prairie planting.

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Join Cindy for a class—or ask her to speak virtually for your organization–now booking talks for 2021. Email Cindy through http://www.cindycrosby.com.

Register for Cindy’s Literary Gardens Online: Friday, Dec.4, 1-2:30 p.m.CST– Join master gardener and natural history writer Cindy Crosby from wherever you live in the world for a fun look at great (and not-so-great) gardens in literature and poetry. From Agatha Christie’s mystery series, to Brother Cadfael’s medieval herb garden, to Michael Pollan’s garden in “Second Nature,” to the “secret garden” beloved of children’s literature, there are so many gardens that helped shape the books we love to read. Discover how gardens and garden imagery figure in the works of Virginia Woolf, Elizabeth Goudge, Rumer Godden, May Sarton, Mary Oliver, Elizabeth Gilbert, Henry Mitchell, Barbara Kingsolver, and Lewis Carroll–and many more! This class is online. Register here through The Morton Arboretum.

Just released in June! Chasing Dragonflies: A Natural, Cultural, and Personal History. Order now from your favorite indie bookstore such as the Arboretum Store and The Bookstore of Glen Ellyn, or online at bookshop.org, direct from Northwestern University Press (use coupon code NUP2020 for 25% off), or other book venues. Thank you for supporting small presses, bookstores, and writers during these unusual times.

Want more prairie? Follow Cindy on Facebook, Twitter (@phrelanzer) and Instagram (phrelanzer). Or visit her website at http://www.cindycrosby.com. See you there!