A Wish for Prairie

“Fire is part of our identity as humans. It’s our ecological signature. —Stephen Pyne

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It’s that time of year, all across the Chicago region.

Fire season.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL prescribed burn. (2021)

The tallgrass prairie remnants and plantings long for fire. They lie flattened, moldering into the ice. A few seeds hang on in the gusty winds.

Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum), St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

The prairie streams are caught between freeze and thaw. So much tension! It’s a season of transition.

St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

Each evening, prairie stewards and staff check the forecast. They look for the right combination of humidity and temperature. Wind speed. Wind direction. And…are there enough staff and volunteers to put fire on the ground? The signs of spring are here. It’s time.

American robin (Turdus migratorius), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

In my backyard, I slop through iced mud, checking the garden and prairie plantings for signs of life. I make a mental note to add more compost and topsoil to the beds, which have settled over the winter and are no longer as deep as I’d like.

The fall-planted garlic cloves have sent up shoots.

Garlic (Allium sativum), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

And—what’s this? The evergreen leaves of my prairie alum root and prairie smoke have vanished! Possibly the work of the chubby bunny I saw under the bird feeders, nibbling on seeds. Ah, well. We’ll see if the damage is fatal in a few weeks. I move on. The marsh marigolds are already leafing out around my small pond. They’ll bloom bright yellow in a week or two.

Marsh marigold (Caltha palustris), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

And speaking of gold, the first miniature daffodils are in bloom, planted among the prairie dropseed. So pretty! I aim for 70 percent native plants in my yard, and about 30 percent traditional garden plants and vegetables. I’m getting there.

Daffodil (Narcissus sp.), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

After scanning the garden each day, I hike the forest preserves and prairie remnants, soaking up the last views of prairie before it goes up in flames. Today I’m at St. Jame’s Farm, part of the DuPage Forest Preserve in Warrenville, IL. This almost 600 acre preserve was once the country retreat for the wealthy McCormick family, who purchased it in the 1920s. They favored horses and show cows so as well as numerous riding trails, indoor and outdoor horse show arenas, and barns, there are also structures left over from the 1800’s farms.

St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

The McCormick’s also commissioned several sculpture pieces, which are scattered across the grounds. I pause on my hike at the picnic shelter, which surrounds a wishing well fountain, empty for the season. At the center are three leaping dolphins in a fountain crafted by Italian sculptor Fioré de Henriquez.

St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

A sign invites me to make a wish and toss in a coin. My pockets, alas, are empty. Coins in these days of Venmo and Apple Pay, Visa and Mastercard, are in short supply. What would I wish for, anyway?

I think of the bulldozing of Bell Bowl Prairie last week.

Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

Closing my eyes, I make a wish anyway, hoping my lack of coinage isn’t an issue. What do I wish for? A wish for the continued future of prairie remnants everywhere. That we will wake up and realize their importance. That we will continue to push our public officials to put their lip service about the environment into concrete actions.

Wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa), St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

That the setback of our loss of Bell Bowl Prairie will not discourage us for acting for our natural areas, but rather that the whole disappointing event will be a catalyst for us to wake up and protect the little remaining original prairie we have left.

Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

Wishful thinking? I hope not. The trail I’m on continues into the woodlands, where I scout for the first spring wildflowers. This week has been bitter and blustery.

St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

No blooms today, here in the woodlands. As I pass back into the sunshine close to the farm buildings, I admire some of the prairie plantings along the walks.

Prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

Not much plant life left in places. As you’d expect in March.

Marsh blazing star (Liatris spicata), St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

I think of the root systems stirring in the soil, deep below. Waking up to the warmth and sunlight. Beginning the cycle. Root. Shoot. Bloom. Seed. Senescence.

Evening primrose (Oenothera biennis) St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

I also think about the pandemic as I walk. This week, three years ago, we woke up to a lock-down in Illinois. At that time, we thought Covid would be eradicated in a few weeks or months. Little did we know.

Red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis), St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

The time has passed so quickly.

We don’t know what’s ahead. But I do know I’m ready for the spring, with whatever it brings. You, too?

St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

March has been a reminder of all we’ve been through the past three years. It’s been a season of wind and ice.

St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL.

I’m ready to put it behind us and move forward.

St. James Farm, Warrenville, IL.

Bring on the fire.

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The opening quote is by Stephen Pyne in The Age of Fire, an interview with Anders Dunker. Pyne is the author of many books on fire, including The Pyrocene in 2021, and is professor emeritus at Arizona State University.

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Join Cindy for a class or program this spring!

This Friday! The Morton Arboretum’s “Women in the Environment Series”: The Legacy of May T. Watts— (in person and online)—with lead instructor and Sterling Morton Librarian extraordinaire Rita Hassert. March 24, 10-11:30 a.m., in the beautiful Founders’ Room at Thornhill. Registration information and cost available here.

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 at The Morton Arboretum. Registration information here. (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.

See Cindy’s website for more spring programs and classes.

Tallgrass Prairie Dragons

“One dragonfly—even the most silent of ponds comes alive.”—Scott King

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They’re here. All around us. In the prairie wetlands. Scattered in the tallgrass ponds.

Dragons.

Sterling Pond, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Dragonflies, that is. When the sun shines on cold days. While the ice is deep on the prairie ponds.

Bison track (Bison bison), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL. (2017)

“What?” you might say. “Cindy, there aren’t any dragonflies flying through the snow.” Truth. And yet…under the water’s surface, rumbling across the substrate of silty river bottoms, dragonfly nymphs are going about their business. They look a bit different in their larval stage, don’t they?

Hine’s emerald dragonfly nymph (Somatochlora hineana), Urban Stream Research Center, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL. (2019)

These tiny nymphs eat. Grow. Molt. Eat some more. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Until that magical day when nature tells each species GO!

Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL. (2017)

They emerge, exchanging a life in the water for a short life in the air.

Teneral dragonfly gaining its coloration, unknown species, Busse Woods, Schaumburg, IL. (2016)

Their lives will flare into color, channeling sunlight. And then, all too soon, their time is up. It might end with the snap of a bird bill. The splash of a fish, as it snatches the dragonfly in motion. Or a bullfrog, tonguing the dragonfly out of its flightpath.

Bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus), Crosby’s backyard pond, Glen Ellyn, IL. (2018).

Now you see it.

Widow skimmer (Libellula luctuosa), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL (2019).

Now you don’t.

Widow skimmer (Libellula luctuosa) wings, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2020)

Or, if a dragonfly is lucky, it will live a few weeks before dying its natural death.

Calico pennant (Celithemus elisa), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2020)

A life so short! Shouldn’t we admire them while we can?

And then, there are the migratory dragonflies. Big, bright, and ready to return to the Midwest this spring.

Common green darner (Anax junius), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL. (2020).

Not all dragonflies migrate. But the ones that do—common green darners, wandering gliders, black saddlebags, and other migratory species—left in the autumn en masse, bound for warmer climes. The Gulf of Mexico, perhaps, or even Central America. And now, their progeny return singly. We’ll see them as early as March in Illinois, ready to complete the remarkable cycle.

The wandering glider, found on every continent but Antarctica, is known to travel more than 8,000 miles!

Wandering glider (Pantala flavescens), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2016)

Dragonflies don’t have the excellent press agents that monarch butterflies do, so it’s up to citizen scientists, researchers, and organizations such as The Xerces Society to collect data and learn more about these far-ranging insects.

Black saddlebags (Tramea lacerata), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2020)

For most of us, it’s enough to know dragonflies will soon be back in the Midwest to brighten our gardens and enliven our world. Returning migrants and also, the nymphs living in the water here, will appear. They’ll zip around stoplights, catch bugs at ballparks, and pose on wildflowers.

Blue dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis) on rough blazing star (Liatris aspera) , Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL. (2016)

Such motion!

Common green darner (Anax junius), Turtle Ponds, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2021)

Such color.

Carolina saddlebags (Tramea carolina), Ware Field, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2019)

Such pizzazz.

Eastern amberwing dragonfly (Perithemis tenera), Children’s Garden, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2022)

Though snow still flies in the Chicago region, my dragonfly “EDS”—early detection system—is on high alert. What species will I see first? When will I spot it? Where?

Great blue skimmer dragonfly (Libellula vibrans), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2021)

From that moment on, my days will see constant attention on the skies and wetlands. I can’t wait.

Let the dragonfly chasing season begin!

******

The opening quote is from Scott King (1965-2021) in his book with Ken Tennessen and Kobayashi Issa, Dragonfly Haiku (Red Dragonfly Press, 2016). King, an engineer who grew up in northern Minnesota, was also a naturalist who wrote several books about insects. He was the founder of Red Dragonfly Press, which relied on vintage typesetting and printing equipment, and he hand-bound the poetry chapbooks he published with needle and thread. In a tribute to Scott in the Minnesota Star Tribune, he was lauded by one friend as “that rare combination of technical genius and poetic soul.” Said another friend, “He was constantly drawing your attention to what is around you that you might not be seeing or noticing.”

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Requiem for Bell Bowl Prairie

On March 9, 2023, despite public opposition, one of Illinois last prairie remnants was bulldozed by the Chicago-Rockford International Airport. Once a prairie remnant is lost, we are unable to replicate it. Let this travesty be a wake-up call for all of us who love and care for tallgrass prairies anywhere. Wherever you hike, volunteer, or see a prairie, ask yourself—is this prairie legally protected? If not, advocate for its protection now. Let this be the last prairie remnant we lose in what we’re so proud to call “The Prairie State.”

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Join Cindy for a Class or Program in March

Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers ONLINE — March 15, 7-8:30 p.m., Hosted by Bensonville Public Library. Free and open to the public, but you must register for the link by calling the library. Contact information here.

Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers ONLINE –March 16, 7-8:30 p.m., Hosted by the Rock Valley Wild Ones. This event was formerly a blended program and is now online only. Open to the public; but you must register. Contact information is here.

Literary Gardens — In Person —– Saturday, March 18, 9am-12:30 pm. Keynote for “Ready, Set, Grow!” Master Gardeners of Carroll, Lee, Ogle, and Whiteside Counties through The Illinois Extension. Dixon, IL. Registration ($25) is offered here.

The Morton Arboretum’s “Women in the Environment Series”: The Legacy of May T. Watts— (in person and online)—with lead instructor and Sterling Morton Librarian extraordinaire Rita Hassert. March 24, 10-11:30 a.m., Founders Room, Thornhill. Registration information available here.

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

See Cindy’s website for more spring programs and classes.

March Arrives on the Prairie

“March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight… .” ―L. M. Montgomery

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In like a lamb. The first day of March is mild and the forecast shows more of the same. Sunshine, a few clouds. Temperatures that will stretch and hit 50 degrees. The Farmer’s Almanac tells us if March comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb. Is the reverse true—will it go out like a lion, then? We’ll find out in a few weeks. Spring is a work in progress.

Crescent moon at sunrise, looking south over Crosby’s backyard prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Wait, what? Spring? Today—March 1—is the first day of meteorological spring and this year, it’s also Mardi Gras or Shrove Tuesday. Astronomical spring is March 20, so go ahead — celebrate the first day of spring twice! In the Midwest, March is the month for snow and longer hours of sunlight, for the Northern Hemisphere’s vernal equinox, for tornadoes and the first woodland and prairie wildflowers, for St. Patrick’s Day and Lent, and in some years, Easter. Originally, it was the first month of the old Roman calendar. In my garden, March is the month of snowdrops and crocus blooms. Hyacinth and daffodil shoots peek through the prairie dropseed along the warmest side of the house.

Spring bulbs coming up through prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

This weekend, as Sunday drew to a close, Jeff and I went for a hike at Blackwell Forest Preserve. In winter, it’s a favorite spot for ice fishing and snow tubing. In the summer, kayaks and small motorboats ply the biggest lake as families fish and picnic along the shoreline.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Blackwell is also the site of the Urban Stream Research Center, where the federally-endangered Hine’s Emerald dragonfly is being reared in its nymph stage. When the dragonflies are ready to transform from nymph to adult, they are taken to selected locations and released. The Hine’s Emerald adult dragonfly is on my must-see list. I hope 2022 is the year. I’ve only seen the nymph.

Hine’s Emerald Dragonfly (Somatochlora hineana) nymph, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Difficult to believe this nymph will become a beautiful dragonfly, isn’t it? Take a look here to see it in its adult stage.

Tonight, a few archery enthusiasts are out and about the preserve, practicing their skills. A lone ice fisherman collects his gear and heads for his truck. The parking lot is still full of cars, despite the gathering dark. Where is everyone? Perhaps others are out on the trails like we are, enjoying the last half hour before closing time and heading home to start the work week.

Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

As we begin our hike, I admire the prairie restoration signs. I don’t remember seeing them before, or that “prairie” was brought to the attention of visitors. Yay!

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

I’m happy to spy many of my favorite prairie plants. Switchgrass, turning luminous in last light.

Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum) , Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Thimbleweed.

Thimbleweed (Anemone cylindrica), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Indian grass limns the shoreline.

Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

A small stand of evening primrose stands out against the grasses.

Evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Wild blackberry canes thread through the prairie plantings, adding a welcome bit of color. I admire the red, even though as a prairie steward, I know how aggressive this native can be.

WIld blackberry canes (Rubis xxx), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

An alien-looking finger of mullein, ringed with ragged leaves, points toward the sky.

Great mullein (Vervascum thapsus) Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Wild bergamot still holds its minty scent.

Wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

The air smells like melting snow and mud.

Cold and exhilarating.

Sunset, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

It’s almost closing time, so we turn around and start back to the parking lot. But we can’t resist a detour to the bridge.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

There, we watch the sunset and scan the frozen water. The tracks on the lake are human, dark and slushy.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

I wonder how recent these footprints are? With the temperatures warming, the ice would have been tricky. Were they foolhardy kids? Or were the footprints made much earlier in the week, when the temperatures were bitter and the lake was frozen solid? Difficult to say.

Someone left a message.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Sweet! I don’t know if mom would have been happy they were out there, but I’m sure she would appreciate the sentiment.

Old nest, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

The sun drops behind the trees.

Sunset, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

On the opposite side of the lake, the sky becomes a lavender haze.

Sunset, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

We head back to the car. What a pleasant way to end the day! A hike at the forest preserve with prairie plants all around, and new preserve signs showing intentions for future prairie restoration.

Signs of hope.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

“A work in progress.” After a week of stunned disbelief watching world events, I needed the peace and solace of a sunset prairie hike and a reminder that everything is a “work in progress.” Tomorrow is another day. Another chance for change.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

It’s a good way to welcome a new week. I’m ready to usher in a brand new month, full of possibilities.

You, too?

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The opening quote is by Lucy Maud Montgomery (1874-19420, author of the fictional series Anne of Green Gables; her complete body of work includes 20 novels, 500 poems, more than 500 short stories and numerous essays. Most of her novels are set on Prince Edward Island in Canada.

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Upcoming Programs

See http://www.cindycrosby.com for details.

March 8, 7 pm-8:30pm — Dragonflies and Damselflies: Frequent Fliers in the Garden at Twig and Bloom Garden Club, Glen Ellyn, IL.

March 9, 1-2:30 pm— Illinois Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers at Garden Club of Oak Park and River Forest, Oak Park, IL.

March 28, 7-8:30pm—Add a Little Prairie to Your Garden at Grayslake Greenery Garden Club, Grayslake, IL.

Reading the Tallgrass Prairie

“It’s a story that continues to be written, on the page and in the earth.” — John T. Price

The polar vortex has clamped its icy claws on the Midwest.

Monarch Way Station, Cindy’s backyard prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL.

I find myself humming Christina Rossetti’s gorgeous Christmas poem/carol, “In the Bleak Midwinter.” Snow on snow, snow on snow.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

My hikes have gotten shorter and shorter this week. Even a trip to fill up the backyard birdfeeders…

Hairy Woodpecker (Dryobates villosus) and House Sparrow (Passer domesticus), Cindy’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

….is Brrrr!...enough to send me back inside to brew a mug of hot lapsang souchong tea, shrug on an afghan, and reach for a book about the gorgeous and—painfully cold this week—natural world.

Robin (Turdus migratorius) on Staghorn Sumac (Rhus hirta), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

It’s prime reading weather. Time to investigate some prairie literature.

Let’s pull a few books off the shelf and spend some of this week “hiking” through the pages, immersed in prairie.

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Do you love a good story? A great place to begin a prairie literary exploration is with John Price’s edited volume, The Tallgrass Prairie Reader.

It’s an intentionally accessible nonfiction anthology with, as Price says in his introduction, “a variety of forms, voices, and approaches—including adventure narratives, spiritual reflections, literary ethnobotany, animal portraits, ‘personal’ natural history, childhood memoir, travel writing, humor, and reportage.” These are stories, rather than how-to restoration essays. Price groups the readings in three sections—19th, 20th, and 21st Centuries. You can skip around and dip into different readings, or, as he suggests, start at the earliest reading (Black Dog’s “Sun and Moon” creation story) and read it straight through to get a sense of how people at different points in history experienced the tallgrass prairie. Absorbing reading.

If you’re looking for more of a comprehensive natural history (from glaciers to present), one of the classic narratives of the tallgrass prairie is John Madson’s Where the Sky Began.

Madson’s dry wit, his encyclopedic facts narrated in lovely prose, and his passion for prairie make the 340 pages of this book fly by. Where the Sky Began was published in 1982; Madson passed away in 1995. When my new prairie volunteers ask me what book to read to understand what a prairie is and how it came to be, Madson’s book is the first one I recommend. A classic.

Memoir and prairie make good companions, and one of my favorites remains Nature’s Second Chance by Steven Apfelbaum.

After moving to Juda, Wisconsin, where he purchased an old 2.7 acre agricultural homestead, Apfelbaum began restoring it to health. Apfelbaum is founder and chairman at Applied Ecological Services, and has an expert knowledge of what it takes to create tallgrass prairie where it has been obliterated. His story tells how he gained an education in what it means to do so in a community where ecological restoration isn’t well understood. Chapter 10 is my favorite: “Getting to Know the Neighbors.” It will make you smile! This book is a great companion for frigid February evenings when you want a non-fiction prairie book that’s personal, and reads with the flowing narrative of a good novel.

For the same reasons, I love Paul Gruchow’s Journal of a Prairie Year ….

…and Gruchow’s Grass Roots: The Universe of Home.

Both books are collections of thoughtful essays on prairie, rural living, and the natural world. Grass Roots won the 1996 Minnesota Book Award, and contains an essay, “What the Prairie Teaches Us,” that I use in my tallgrass prairie ecology classes. Journal of a Prairie Year is arranged seasonally, and as Milkweed Editions (Gruchow’s publisher) notes, it is “both equal parts phenology and philosophy.” I read portions of Gruchow’s books all year round to remind myself to pay attention to what’s unfolding all around me.

Most prairie wildflowers and grasses are battered or buried under a foot of snow this week. Some are almost unrecognizable at this time of year. I’ve found that a great way to deepen my relationship with plants is to browse some of my ethnobotany books—discovering how people have used these native plants throughout history. Learning the plants’ stories, and how their stories are part of the human story, is an engaging way to pass the winter hours indoors.

Wildflowers of the Tallgrass Prairie: The Upper Midwest by Sylvan Runkel and Dean Roosa is now in its second edition with a new cover and much better photographs than my first edition shown above. The authors include fun snippets of information about the scientific names of more than 100 plants, and stories of how Native Americans and newcomers to the Midwest used native prairie plants medicinally, as groceries, and even for veterinary purposes. It’s easy to pick the book up for a few minutes and renew my acquaintance with a prairie grass or wildflower’s stories—then put it down. This suits my short attention span this month (which I blame on the pandemic). Read about a plant or two each day, and by the time warm weather and prescribed fire have readied the prairie for another growing year, you’ll be all set to greet the first spring wildflowers.

Bumblebee (Bombus sp.) on Wood Betony (Pedicularis canadensis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Kelly Kindscher’s two seminal works on Kansas prairie plants, Edible Wild Plants of the Prairie and Medicinal Wild Plants of the Prairie include many stories of grasses and wildflowers native to my area of Illinois as well as further west. Drawings like these below are included, rather than photographs.

Illustration from Kelly Kindscher’s Edible Wild Plants of the Tallgrass Prairie.

Kindscher’s writing is lucid and enjoyable, and a deep dive into a plants ethnobotanical story. And, if these three books on prairie plants whet your appetite for more, immerse yourself in the doorstopper encyclopedic Native American Ethnobotany by Daniel Moerman (shown above with the other three books), a fairly exhaustive compilation of native plant use by specific Native American tribes in North America. It’s an amazing reference book no serious prairie enthusiast should be without.

Now that you know more about the prairie plants’ stories, wouldn’t it be nice to go see a few? Winter is a good time for planning visits to all the prairies I hoped to visit during warmer weather—but didn’t get around to. These three books below stimulate a lot of dreaming about road trips. The Prairie Directory of North America by Charlotte Adelman and Bernard Schwartz is an out-of-print oldie, but goodie. My first edition, published in 2001, has valuable lists of small, off the beaten track types of prairies in the United States and Canada. See if you can find a used copy of either the first or second edition. The directory has been the springboard for many of my prairie hikes.

Exploring Nature in Illinois by Susan Post and Michael Jeffords, while not focused solely on prairies, has some excellent destinations including Goose Lake Prairie State Park, Nachusa Grasslands, Kankakee Sands, and more. Hiking Illinois by Susan Post includes great prairie trips such as Midewin National Tallgrass Prairie, McHenry County Conservation District’s 26-mile “The Prairie Trail,” and Winnebago County’s sand prairies.

So many books! So little time. As a former independent bookseller, I’d love to pull each of my prairie books off the shelf and tell you why it’s earned a place there.

Then, you could share your favorites with me (and please do so below in the comments). There are more books than I can name, or show in the photo above, or describe here. Books on prairie restoration, plant ID, bison, birds, blooms; coffee-table photography tomes and books of prairie spiritual reflections. And I have many more prairie books on my wish list. You, too?

Of course, reading about the prairie is no substitute for the prairie itself.

Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

But when the wind chill drops to minus 20 degrees, and winter storms close many of the roads to the tallgrass preserves, “hiking” through the pages of these prairie books is the next best thing to being there.

Happy reading!

*****

John T. Price (1966-) earned his M.F.A. in Nonfiction Writing and Ph.D. in English from University of Iowa. He is the author of Daddy Long Legs: The Natural Education of a Father (2013) and Man Killed by Pheasant and Other Kinships (2008) and Not Just Any Land: A Personal and Literary Journey into the American Grasslands (2004). Price is Professor of English at the University of Nebraska.

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Join Cindy in 2021 for an online class! See http://www.cindycrosby.com for a complete list of virtual offerings. Need a speaker? Email me through my website. All classes and programs with Cindy this winter and spring are offered online only. Join me from your computer anywhere in the world.

February 24, 7-8:30 p.m. CST: The Prairie in Art and Literature– Online. The tallgrass prairie is usually thought of for its diverse community of plants, animals, and insects. Yet, it is also an inspiration for a creative community! In this interactive online talk, natural history author and prairie steward Cindy Crosby will explore historical and contemporary writers and artists, musicians, and other creatives working in the prairie genre: from Neil Young to Willa Cather to graphic comic artists, quilters, and jewelers expressing the prairie through their work. See the prairie in a new light! Come away inspired to appreciate and express your love of the tallgrass as you enjoy learning about this prairie “community.” Offered by The Morton Arboretum: Register here.

Readers, I hope you’ll “hunker down” this winter with my book, The Tallgrass Prairie: An Introduction and my book with awesome co-author Thomas Dean, Tallgrass Conversations: In Search of the Prairie Spirit during this cold spell! Don’t forget your independent bookstores when you order Thanks for reading about and supporting prairie.

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.

Reflection, Rather than Reaction

“Alert to the slow rhythms of nature, we can appraise more soberly the hectic rhythms of the headlines.” — Scott Russell Sanders

On this first day of November, we find ourselves in a mess. Perhaps it comes from paying  too much attention to angry voices in the media pre-election, polarized around money, sex, and power. It’s easy to be reactive to the headlines, and then let our anger spill out onto people, through our words and actions. To respond with venom to the those who disagree with us, instead of love.

The rhythm of the seasons helps dispel this tendency toward reacting without really listening. Walk, quiet your mind, turn off your phone. Let the wind blow away your frustration. Breathe. Issues will come and go. Politicians will explode into the spotlight for a brief time, then fade away. Yes, issues are important. But so are other things in the world.

Look around. See the colors of the prairie at the beginning of November! Scarlet and gold leaves are everywhere to delight us, although they are fading fast. It’s so easy to forget the miracles all around us and focus on the tense voices loudly clamoring for our attention.

There are more subtle washes of color in the grasses now, with few wildflowers to punctuate it with bright color.  The tallgrass community is entering a season of rest.

Quiet.

“All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall…”

Sit for a while on the rocky outcrops of St. Peter’s sandstone, overlooking the prairie. Do  you feel the ageless stability of rock in the face of change?

It’s easy to lose sight of what is real, and what is hype; what is true and what is fabrication; what is worth believing, and what is deception. There are no easy answers, nor have there ever been. But there is reflection.

Then, action. However, action without reflection often feeds hate, distrust, and ultimately, regret. Any time we feel certain that we are right, we need to stop. Think. Make time for reflection. Listen. And stay open.

It’s easy to get caught up in what everyone “like us” is thinking or doing, to follow the dictations of a group we identify with…even to the point we feel mud-slinging is somehow justified.

We are not somehow more “in the know” than others, in daily life or in politics. We are imperfect humans in community with our families, our towns, our states, our nation, our world.  We work toward the common good with others we don’t always agree with –indeed, others we plain just can’t stand!–but can learn from, no matter how much they are different from us. There is room at the table for everyone.

We strike poses on social media to show we are the right thinkers; we aren’t like the “other side.” What has happened to civil discourse? To a willingness to agree to disagree? Polarization brings with it the fear of others, or a need to distance ourselves in public from other points of view, rather than acknowledgment of what we have in common and what we share. When we stop listening and reflecting, we close ourselves off to any hope of understanding.

A walk in the tallgrass is a way to give ourself space. Alone, we reflect on our place in the greater community. We listen, yes–and then, begin to sort out what we believe. What is wisdom? What do we want to discard? It’s a time to think about the legacy we want to leave for future generations. A legacy of fear and suspicion of each other? Or a legacy of love? How will I act?

“Do not wait for leaders,” said Mother Teresa. “Do it alone, person to person.”

What time will you make this week to reflect on the world and your place in your community–wherever you find yourself?  What small things will you do that make a difference, even to one person? How will you treat those you disagree with who are part of your community, no matter how much you dislike their personal choices? Will you speak with love? Or will  your voice be strident and secure in the knowledge that “I know what is best?” What can we learn from each other in our differences? How are we alike?

Let the slow rhythms of nature quiet your mind, open your heart, and allow you to pay compassionate, non-judgemental attention to what is happening in the world.

Reflect. Then act –and choose your words with love.

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The opening quote is from Scott Russell Sanders (1945-) in Writing from the Center. Sanders is the winner of the John Burroughs Natural History Essay Award. He lives in Bloomington, IN, and writes compellingly about the importance of community.

The quote from Mother Teresa of Calcutta (1910-1997), an Albanian-Indian Catholic nun, is paraphrased, and sometimes said to be a mis-attribution. It’s powerful, no matter what the source. The quote “All people are like grass” is taken from  1 Peter 1:24.

All photographs copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): Full moon over author’s backyard prairie spot, Glen Ellyn, IL; common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) in seed, Franklin Creek Grist Mill prairie, Franklin Grove, IL; sumac (Rhus spp.) , Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; Fame Flower Knob, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; figwort (Scrophularia marilandica), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; clouded sulphurs (Colias philodice) and orange sulphurs (Colias eurytheme) puddling in the mud, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; Tuesdays in the Tallgrass prairie work group, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL;  seeds drying in the barn, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; hand in hand at Silver Lake, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL;  finding perspective in the tallgrass, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL.

Flight Through the Tallgrass

“For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.” –Leonardo da Vinci

The summer sky tumbles her clouds. The prairie whispers, “flight.”

So many ways to reach new heights on the prairie in August. So many ways to take to the skies.

Butterflies drift through the air like colorful leaves. The tiger swallowtails take frequent snack breaks.

 

Silver skippers pause, dwarfed by the grasses now shooting skyward, considering their options.

 

Some prairie inhabitants fly only as far as a hop and a jump.

 

While others will travel distances limited only by the imagination.

 

Yet, as satisfying as it is to take to the air, it’s wise to find shade where you can. The blazing prairie sun offers no relief.

 

The zips and zags of dragonflies dazzle. When one dragonfly comes to rest on a budded blazing star, you can’t help but admire her intricate wings, those complex eyes.

 

So much is unfolding on the prairie in August.

 

You sense everything is moving in a new direction.

 

Time is flying. Will you be there, in the tallgrass?

 

 

You’ll be amazed at what you see…

…if you make time to look.

 

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The opening quote is by Leonardo DaVinci (1452-1519), perhaps the most diversely gifted person in history. Among his many interests was flight; he created plans for flying machines and studied the flight of birds.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby: (top to bottom) big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) against the August sky, Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Downer’s Grove, IL; eastern tiger swallowtail butterfly (Papilio glaucus), St. James Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL; silver-spotted skipper (Epargyreus clarus), Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Downer’s Grove, IL;  green frog  (Lithobates clamitans), St. James Farm prairie area, Warrenville, IL;  American goldfinch(Spinus tristis), St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL;  great horned owl (Bubo virginianus), Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Downer’s Grove, IL;  female blue dasher dragonfly (Pachydiplax longipennis)) on rough blazing star (Liatris aspera)  Belmont Prairie Nature Conserve, Downer’s Grove, IL;  Indian grass unfolding, (Sorghastrum nutans), Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Downer’s Grove, IL;  old weather vane, St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL;  vehicle at Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; female eastern pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis ), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.