The Great (I Hope) Seed Project

This is a fleshing out of some of the thoughts from a previous post: “Not All Plants Are Created Equal”. giving some specific examples of what I hope to begin. But first, a little background. The genesis for the thesis I will explore here occurred when I originally began trying to purchase seed for the restoration in 2017. I went to the local purveyor, Milborn Seeds in Brookings, South Dakota, 80 miles south of here and started a dialogue with their native seeds specialist, Jason. He was somewhat bemused by some of my questions, but Jason is a good fellow trying to do the right thing by his customers, and patiently waded through my requests. At the end of it all, he told me what species they had, what he might be able to access and that what I was interested in was going to be very expensive. I specifically remember asking about textile onion, a common component of the gravel hilltops in my prairies, and his reply that he had no experience with it and that I should look to other seed sellers. I did, and the result was a big fat zero. There seemed to be no way I could buy any textile onion seed. Similar discussions on other species had similar results; I was asking for seeds for which there obviously wasn’t enough market to induce a business like Milborn’s to grow or have access to them. The answer seemed to be simple: I would gather the seed.

Life is really never that simple, though. In the container in the top picture is perhaps an ounce of textile onion seed, about 10-12,000 seeds. I may be able to get a few more, but I have already hit the best areas, and much of the seed is already shelling out. This year’s picking has provided far more seed than was gathered over the last four years put together. Like many prairie species. textile onion doesn’t always produce a lot of seed. Last year, in a spring drought, I hardly saw one bloom. That is one reason that I am trying so hard to gather a good quantity right now. This is an opportunity I may not get again for several years. While 10-12,000 seeds sounds like a large quantity, this is not all germinable seed. Perhaps 6-8,000 might be considered pure, live seed (PLS). Textile onion doesn’t grow everywhere; it is only competitive on my very worst soils, of which I have about 10 acres in my restoration. That comes out to 600-800/acre, or one seed for every 60-80 square feet. On those soils I should really be seeding at least one seed every square foot if I hope to establish a population. There lies the conundrum. How does one get enough seed to do a good job?

I hadn’t really worried too much about such issues in the first couple years of gathering. There were big crops of many species, and I had many concerns trying to get ground cover on areas of the restoration that had not received sufficient seed during the first seeding by the Conservation District. 2020 and 2021 were both far more difficult years to gather seed than the previous two years, however. Spring and early summer were dry and warm both years, and rains in August were too late to induce cautious prairie plants to flower and produce seed. I was able to get out to prairies owned by a couple friends to supplement what I gathered on mine, but I could see that this was a very significant barrier to scaling up prairie restoration in this neck of the woods. This year has had a good start for seed production, but a hot, dry stretch in June has me wondering whether I will be able to gather significant amounts to spread on the 20 acres that I plan to seed this fall.

Following are pictures of three species that I am interested in. Though I have found two of them in the restoration, populations are very low. The characteristic they all share is scattered small populations across my native remnants, which makes it impossible to gather enough seed to significantly enhance my restored prairies. I hope to gather a little this year, though the larkspur has already responded to the hot, dry June by disappearing in many places. Larkspur will literally kill the top growth to preserve rootstock, something very interesting to see. Obviously the tradeoff of continued photosynthesis versus food going to seed production has been taken into account in evolutionary terms and the plant will simply hunker down and wait for another year’s opportunity to make seed.

Though I hesitate to gather any seed from such a reluctant seed producer I will likely gather a little from the remaining blooms, with the plan to engage in off site increase, which I will come to later.

The pretty little cactus below is another example of a plant that I have never gathered any seed from. Cactus are scattered across most of the xeric hills, on the south and west facing slopes. They inhabit at most four or five acres across 80 acres of remnant prairie, but seem to be slowly increasing in population. They aren’t quite as picky as the larkspur, but would still be considered a sporadic bloomer, with almost no blooms the past two years. This year, induced by the early spring rains, or perhaps by the carbohydrate reserves they had built up over the past two years, they are blooming profusely, allowing me to find a couple small populations that I was unaware of. At one point I was considering separating off a few balls to replant in my restoration, but I think that instead I will try to gather some seed this summer, once again to increase rather than to seed directly in my restoration.

My third example Is one I discussed a bit in a previous post, standing milkvetch, a legume that is scattered through the hills in my prairies. I have gathered bits of seed from my plants in previous years, but have not ever been able to gather enough to add a significant amount to the mixes I have spread, and was very pleasantly surprised to find one in the restoration.

These are just three examples that are on my mind because they are blooming right now. There are probably 20-30 other species that all share some subset of a group of characteristics to make it difficult to add to my restorations centered on the inability to gather enough seed to, and the inability to purchase enough seed to supplement what I gather. This now begs the question, “What am I going to do about it?” Or to turn the question around, “How can I magnify the effect of the few seeds that I am able to gather?”

First, as I stated in the earlier post, I have had Dr. Lora Perkins at South Dakota State University (SDSU) grow some seedling plugs for me to transplant. In total, I planted about 350 seedlings of 10-11 species, mostly during the first ten days of June. The month which just ended, was 3-4 degrees above average in temperature, and the driest June since 1988. Included was a three day stretch of 95-100 degree days with 30-40 mph winds to completely dessicate the poor little seedlings. I am afraid very few will live. However, if any at all live it will be a testament to the concept. I am very interested in doing this again next year with a carefully chosen group of species, but will try to get them transplanted earlier when there is less chance of hot, dry weather.

Ultimately, though I am not going to be able to transplant enough seedlings to make up for the lack of seed. The reasonable alternative is to use some of the seed that I have gathered to begin prairie restoration seed fields. Those fields are not going to be established and managed by me; I have my labor all booked in caring for my restorations. Thus, the question is how best to access the resources to augment my initial efforts and produce a significant amount of seed. Possibilities abound, but no resource is cheap. Labor isn’t cheap; land isn’t cheap; facilities and tools aren’t cheap; and even my management and planning isn’t cheap. The money will have to come from somewhere, whether from my pocket, from donated labor and materials or from selling the seed. Do we consider starting a small non-profit corporation to use as a vehicle to apply for grants and to accept donations. I have run a for-profit business for forty years and hesitate to go down that path. I would rather try to find a way to create a business plan to monetize the seed production, including paying for the seed for my own restorations. While I have no illusions that I will make a profit from such a venture I hope to make it pay its way. I already have a C corporation that no longer has a consulting business at its core. Perhaps that’s the vehicle. If I find a partner to share this with it is a very quick and inexpensive process to start an LLC to be the business. I am not the only person or the only entity doing prairie restoration. Others will be interested in such seed. This will be a good winter project. In the meantime I will continue to gather seed and work toward having the conversations that always help clarify raw ideas. Next week I am hosting a small field tour of my restoration with some people who I hope to discuss this with, some staff from the NRCS Plant Materials Center in Bismark. I have also invited Dr. Perkins up form SDSU to join in the tour and discussion. If the conversation occurs and is fruitful I will probably write about it. Fun stuff.

Postscript: One day after I wrote this my prairies received 3.5″ of rain, an unexpected gift from the heavens. There will be a lot of seed to gather in a few weeks.

June Observations, 2022

After the abysmal spring we had we have abruptly leapt into summer. with temperatures likely over 100 tomorrow. Prior to the past week it had appeared that every prairie species was gearing up for maximum seed production, a reasonable choice reflecting abundant precipitation over the past 10 months. That may not continue to be true if the pendulum has swung, but my observations reflect the results of over 30 inches of precipitation since early August last year. At first glance the restoration looks very similar to last year. The changes seem subtle, but evolutionary changes become revolutionary changes with time. And changes there have been, mostly very heartening. Here’s an early attempt at a list; there is likely to be a more complete roundup with reflections on the year in November or December.

1. Lots more pasqueflowers (Anemone patens) though very few bloomed.
2. Lots more groundplums (Astragalus crassicarpus), perhaps 100 that I have seen so far, after seeing around 20 last year, and 2 or 3 in 2020.
3. More slender milkvetch (A. flexuosus), perhaps 20, rather than the 2 or 3 I saw last year.
4. First prairie milkvetch (A,. adsurgens) found last week.
5. Lots more prairie smoke (Geum triflorum), with most blooming and making seed.
6. Continued increase in black samson (Echinacea angustifolia). There are now thousands across the restoration, and I will likely gather seed from them this fall.
7. Even more slender penstemon (Penstemon gracilis) and white penstemon (P. albidus), with blooms everywhere you look.
8. Lots more leadplant (Amorpha canescens) visible, though most are still humble little plants.
9. Spectacular increase of stiff sunflower (Helianthus pauciflorus), with both more individual plants and colonies forming by rhizomatous growth.
10. Several small areas of meadow rue (Thalictrum dasycarpum) along the main draw, as compared to just seeing a couple plants last year.
11. First yellow sundrops (Calylophus serrulatus) found last week
12. Moderate increase in prairie violet (Viola pedatifida).
13. More American vetch (Vicia americana) blooming. It is possible they have been there, but are visible now that advancing maturity and lots of rain have induced them all to bloom. This is a species that is very cryptic if it doesn’t bloom.
14. Lots of porcupine grass sending out seedheads, perhaps enough to gather some seed. Still no needle and thread, though I remain hopeful.
15. Fewer alumroot (Heuchera richardsonii) made more obvious by the hundreds of flower stalks I see in the relict prairies.
16. Continued slow expansion of the bunchgrasses on the gravel hills.
17. Some decrease in several of the forbs that were purchased in the original seeding, and that are four years old now. This is an interesting topic to monitor to which I may return in a different post.
18. More areas, particularly in better soils, conversely are becoming thick patches of smooth brome (Bromus inermis) or Kentucky bluegrass (Poa pratensis). This is related to the last observation, and also will likely get discussed later.
19. The time I spent with my ATV doing spot treatment of herbicide on the worst thistle patches was well spent, but insufficient. I will be doing more areas this summer (I have already done a bit). I have a first draft of a post on this topic and likely will edit it and get it posted soon.

Still, the bulk of the changes were positive, and I think it is worth looking back again at seeding history to help explain. The entire 100 acres was seeded by the Day County Conservation District in the spring of 2018, but most of the seed ended up on less than half the acres, leaving large areas thin or bare. I gathered and bought a great deal of seed for the land that had missed out and spread almost a full seeding on about 50 acres, and a grass mix on 20 acres that was so overrun by Canada thistles that I knew I would have to use herbicide, only leaving the 30 acres that received a double seeding unspread. I still felt that more should be done, so I decided to attempt to gather as much native forb seed from my relict prairies as possible to spread the next fall. 2019 was a good year for gathering seed, with moderate temperatures and abundant rainfall. In addition, twenty acres of the prairie were burned, stimulating seed production enormously. Much of the pasque seed, the black samson, the penstemons, the leadplant, the porcupine grass and many other species that has been spread on the restoration, and that I am talking about now, was gathered that summer and spread that fall. This means that any that germinated the next spring are entering their third growing season, probably a reasonable time to begin switching from establishing their vegetative beachhead to reproducing. Here are a couple looks at what a lot of the gravel hills, the droughty soils, look like.

The common thread is that after four years the ground is finally almost covered. There are still open spots on the poorer soils, but I can envision a sod now. And because of the sod I can begin to envision the building of some organic matter.

The increases I see in many of the species that I see can come from three different causes. The first is brand new seedlings. While the restoration is entering its fifth year, much of the seed went on three years ago, and some only two years ago. Dormancy varies wildly from seed to seed. Many of the seeds were simply not ready to germinate right away, and needed a prolonged period to overcome that dormancy. This is especially true of many legumes which have both a chemical dormancy overcome by a cold period, and a physical dormancy caused by a hard seed coat that needs to be abraded to let in water. Some may even be new seedlings from seed produced by plants already in the restoration, a second generation. The second cause is demonstrated by the picture above. Many plants spread vegetatively, whether by rhizomes as our friend the sunflower demonstrates above, or simply by enlarging the crown and sending out more shoots from a central location. Big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) is a bunchgrass, yet can take over seedings by individual crowns enlarging and putting forth multiple stems. Finally, I am sure many of these plants were already present last year or the year before, but were not noticed because they were humble little plants growing vegetatively close to the ground, and have only become obvious this year after achieving sufficient stature and food storage to boldly bring their flowers to the world. I am slowly becoming better at identifying small vegetative specimens of many species, and for every plant that blooms of some wildflowers there may be several that aren’t blooming.

Above is an example of another way that I am trying to introduce more plants of desired species to the restoration. Dr. Lora Perkins at South Dakota State University (SDSU) grew plugs of several wildflowers from seed that I provided and I have been planting them the past couple weeks. All together perhaps 300 plugs were planted of 10-12 species. The seedling above had probably been in the ground 10-14 days when I took the picture, and still looked ok. Normally I would consider it rooted and successful after that time, but it has been very hot and windy the past few days (about 100 degrees with a 30 mph wind as I type this) and it may be more than the tiny root system will take. Originally I was optimistic that two thirds of the seedlings would live, which I would consider a big success, but after the weather of the last few days I will be ecstatic if half make it (and not surprised if it is far fewer than that).

Finally, I have two new species that can be added to the list for the restoration that I mentioned in the list above. Both yellow sundrops and standing milkvetch are species that I have gathered small amounts of seed for, and thus had only small hopes to see. So now in addition to the 14 plugs of A. adsurgens that I transplanted and am worrying about I have at least one from seed.

In summary, good things are happening at the restoration, and I plan to continue to do things to keep them getting better. Over the next year, more seed will be spread, more seedlings will be planted, more invasive weeds will be controlled and I hope to burn half of it next spring. Big stuff for this old farmer; I’ll let you know how it goes.

Not All Plants Are Created Equal, Part 2

Last spring I wrote a post where I bemoaned the planting of potentially maladapted seed in my restorations, seed sourced from gentler climes, that would not be able to take the relatively cold, dry conditions of my gravel hills on the Prairie Coteau. I introduced the idea of starting a venture of increasing seed from my prairies in small production plots, both for my own use and potentially for sale or gift to other practitioners of prairie restoration. Here’s an update of progress that has been made, and an extension of the concept.

First, I am not going to be the main “farmer” of my prairie species. My physical resources are too limited to add another time consuming and strenuous activity. I am still trying to keep developing my own restorations, and even there I am relying on occasional help. I am fortunate that my young partner, Ben Lardy, has an interest in the concept, and the first plots will be on his place. While I certainly hope to use most of the seed on my fields, originally, if there is ever an actual business that comes from this it will be Ben’s business. I literally have no interest in making any money from the seed, and definitely have no interest in the sorts of activities that would be necessary to create such a business. There are many seedhouses specializing in native seed, and I’m sure we could find one that was interested in our product, should we have excess to sell.

There are many issues, though. We don’t really have a facility to process seed, getting it shelled out of seedheads/seedpods. We don’t have a setup for stratification of the seed, storing it in a damp medium in a refrigerator to mimic seed out on the land over winter , which is necessary for most species to germinate. We don’t have a way to easily scarify seed with a hard seed coat, scratching a break in the seed coat to allow water in. There is an infrastructure that every seedhouse has that we lack. So, to begin, we will beg for assistance. I am not proud. Dr. Lora Perkins at SDSU, who has a native seed project with a lab, greenhouse space and student labor, is providing advice and help. I had scored points by giving her seed that I had gathered to work with, and she has been very gracious in providing advice, and she will start seedlings of some of my selections which I shall buy to transplant. The saying is usually that “I have more time than money.” My version is that I have “more money than time and energy”. Gathering resources in my world is almost always more about supporting and cultivating friendships than any tangible resource. I feel very rich in those resources.

And there is so much more! I had a wonderful visit in Fargo recently with Marissa Ahlering and Nina Hill with the Nature Conservancy (TNC) and Juli Bosmoe, Sarah Hewitt and Jodi Meisch from Audubon Dakota (Audubon). Besides the joy it was to hang out with such an engaging, dynamic group of young women (with the added treat that I got to hold Sarah’s baby for half an hour) the topic that I went to Fargo to discuss was a database that TNC is putting together documenting native prairie species in a geographic information services program (GIS) with the stated purpose of creating a database of seed collection sites. There are many barriers to this developing its potential as a general resource to the conservation community, starting with privacy and access issues, but if that is resolved, there is the huge job to enter all of that data, particularly because it has to be done in the field to get the specific GPS tags on the various populations. However, what started as an in-house attempt to help their crews more efficiently find and gather seed has the potential to be so much more. If we are thinking big enough, including not only conservation non-profits such as TNC and Audubon, but public agencies and private citizens like me, we can create a restoration culture that supports the attempts of amateurs that might otherwise never dream to attempt such a thing.

I have been reading on the TNC website recently that a significant limiting factor in the plans to reforest millions of acres is the lack of tree seedlings to plant. The same is basically true for locally adapted prairie seed. I could see, for example, seed from two or three discrete sources being grown by us, perhaps at different sites to limit cross pollination. Or perhaps they should be grown together to provide for purposeful cross pollination. The very nature of the fragmentation of prairies means that there might need to be rejuvenation of the genetic base by jumping out of the narrow mindset that could allow genetic drift to impoverish the plants’ genomes. Small populations of any type lose traits, they lose genetic possibilities through random happenstance. Maybe we can combat that.

This post is definitely getting into the realm of “talking smart”. I know enough genetics to sound like I know what I am talking about when I really don’t know crap. Big topics need big talk, however. The loss of biodiversity is just as important and just as real for plants as it is for animals. I will bring that back to my humble restorations in another post.

Biotic Space, Biotic Opportunities

After a prolonged period during which I was either traveling to Chicago, in the Twin Cities working on the house we own there (which is happily now rented out for a few months), or sick, I was finally able to get out to the restoration to walk around. I had some seed that had been stratifying in the refrigerator for a couple months to get spread and really needed the opportunity to just get out to look around. This has been an abysmal spring, and with my other issues, I have basically missed it. How many more springs will I feel physically able to walk in the prairies, I wonder? The mind goes to dark places during a prolonged illness, and I was feeling my time is short and precious. Your time is short and precious as well, by the way, even if you are a strong young millenial in the prime of your physical life. Opportunities must be grasped and throttled, or manfactured from the air, but they are there and need to be used. Here are a few things I saw today.

A little irony in the new groundpum find, as I was tossing out some groundplum seed when I came across this one. I found about 12-15 plants last year, primarily across a long eroded ridge just south of the little hill where I found this one. Legumes are gold, and I love my groundplums, so finding a new one is always a happy event. So far this spring I have found 50 or more. This is one of the species that I have worked at most diligently in the restoration, and I really hope to establish an actual population. Compatriots are as close as a hundred yards away in the nearby pasture, so I hope that cross pollination will occur. These are blooming a couple days earlier than the groundplums in my relict prairies because of less competition from a grass sod, but I think this is a long-lived species, so there is time for love to find a way.

Most of the violets in my native prairies are Nuttall’s violets (Viola nuttallii), a yellow blooming species, but I wanted to add some violets to my restoration to provide food for regal frittilary butterfly larvae, and it is very difficult to buy the seed of Nuttall’s violets. Thus I bought some prairie violet. I have them growing here and there. I hope they spread, as they tend to be pretty ubiquitious in other prairies in the area.

It was a big surprise when I started finding clumps of pussytoes in the restoration. Seed is expensive, and hard to gather, so I was only able to get a little seed out there, but wandering around I regularly come upon plants.

This is a big, happy success! I had identified several pasque plants vegetatively the past couple years, but this is the first bloom I have seen in my restoration. Three years ago we were able to gather a great deal of seed and I literally spent hours picking out seeds a few at a time and releasing them into the wind across the hilltops of the west half of the restoration. Pasque is pretty conservative, in that you only really find it in relict prairies; it doesn’t seed itself into tame pastures. I have read that it is very difficult to get it to grow from seed, but I guess you get lucky sometimes, and I am very happy to have found it. This is shaping up to be a good year for seed collection of this species, so I hope to get a bunch to spread on the new restoration.

Prairie smoke is not uncommon in the adjacent prairie, and I know several other prairies where I can find it, but I have never been able to gather much. So, just as with the prairie violet, I broke down the second year of the restoration and bought some. It’s very difficult to seed, as the feathery awns weave themselves into a tight ball, so once again several tedious hours were spent wandering across the restoration trying to pull a few seeds loose at a time to release into a breeze. I have found quite a few in my limited opportunities to get out to the restoration this spring, perhaps a hundred or so that are blooming now.

Biotic space is the theme for this post, and the clearest example is what a wet fall and early spring has done on some of the bare areas remaining on the worst eroded hillsides. Moss has found its way to those soils and is making use of the sunlight and water. Nutrients are obviously very limiting, but mosses have the ability to make do with very little. Usually, mosses are thought of as growing in shady woods, but in this case the excess moisture of the past several months have given this moss the opportunity to grow. I hope to follow these areas through the course of the summer to see how they respond to heat and dessication later. As interesting as the moss is, I would prefer to see blue grama colonizing and spreading to provide more erosion control. On the other hand, I should perhaps withhold judgement and enjoy observing the moss.

All these plants were found in areas where there is still open space to colonize. At least that is my assumption, but we only see what is above the ground, and in these very droughty soils the real competition might be below the ground. Today I was also planting seedlings that I received from Dr. Lora Perkins at South Dakota State University (SDSU). I brought her the seed from my relict prairies, and she has incorporated it into her work on native plant propagation at SDSU and in return was kind enough to trade me back a bunch of seedlings of several species. We will see how much biotic space there really is. I accept that I may be wasting the effort, but I hope to see some more prairie turnips out there in the future.

How much more biotic space do I have, personally? how many more openings can I insert myself into? It hasn’t been a great spring to feel very confident as to the future, so I am trying very hard to concentrate my efforts, enjoy some opportunities, and generally to make productive use of what little energy I can gather. Onward!

Postscript: Two weeks after writing this I was out planting some plugs of a couple species and realized that I had failed to add another obvious response to empty space in a planting. Many plants engage in colonial, or clonal growth. They send rhizomes out to scout out possibilities. Last summer was hot and dry until August 10 or so, after which all hell broke loose meteorologically. Any plant that could make use of the rain in September and October would be able to make substantial growth and gain an advantage on plants that were done with the year, or simply grow into the empty space. Here are a couple examples that I came across, but there are more.

The common threads are that in each case there was a seedling that developed over the past two or three years into a plant that had sufficient photosynthate to make a lot of rhizomatous growth. Roots with the ability to form nodes with meristematic tissue (think stem cells) grew laterally. Those nodes then started to send their own roots down into the soil and formed a shoot that came through the surface and begins to make its own food. If you pull or dig out any of those shoots you will find it has its own crown and root system, but that it is also tethered to a lateral root that goes back to the original plant (or an older shoot from earlier rhizomatous growth. Nothing is free; putting lots of energy into the rhizomes means that many or most of these shoots may not send flowers up. The food goes into growth under the surface, instead. However, if the year is kind there is the potential for a great number of flowering stalks trying to make seed. We will see what the year brings.

The Prairie Working Group

Late last summer I hosted a field day at my restoration for a group of conservation professionals from a variety of NGO’s and several employees of the state of South Dakota. We had a great day of wandering around and I asked questions regarding several facets of management that the group discussed. Taken as an isolated event it was a valuable and fun experience, one that I hoped to repeat on another occasion. Recently several things have come together to expand my hopes for the group.

First, this goes back to my visit with Dave Ode, about whom I wrote an earlier blog post, and his efforts at raising seed from collections of a variety of native milkweeds. He considered them foundation seed, samples worth increasing and planting in pollinator gardens and restorations. This inspired me to consider engaging in a similar effort, raising some seed from selections in my prairies, particularly several species that are difficult or impossible to purchase. That effort will hopefully begin this growing season. No individual selection is “special”, except as a particular genetic response chance and to its environment, which means that perhaps multiple selections are needed from different environments.

Then, a couple months ago I began communicating with Nina Hill, an employee of The Nature Conservancy (TNC). I travelled to Fargo to have a visit with Nina about becoming a part of an effort to document populations of prairie species in a database that TNC had begun. Marissa Ahlering, Science Director for TNC for the region, joined the meeting for a while, and we discussed the potential use of the database to guide efforts in native seed collection. Marissa has written and talked about the need to broaden the seed sources for new restorations to bring more genetic resilience to them. In effect to “seed” the genetics that might be helpful to respond to climate change or other challenges that we might not be able to foresee. The assumption, again, is that selections of the same species from prairie remnants separated geographically would have differences in their genomes.

The next push occurred after a visit to Dr. Lora Perkins, a professor in Natural Resources at South Dakota State University (SDSU). Dr. Perkins has a native plant material project, researching and increasing seed from a large variety of native species. This has already been done by private companies, so it may seem like reinventing the wheel, but private companies are understandably concerned that they make money, and so are inevitably going to have different goals and outcomes than a public effort. If they find a particular seed source that is easy to grow and has an attractive bloom other characteristics might not be considered, and that one genotype can become the only one offered for sale. Towards the end of our visit Dr. Arvid Boe, an old friend of mine, came to her office and we discussed his extensive efforts at growing native selections over the past forty years. Once more the concept of a native selection as foundation seed came up. At the end of the visit Lora mentioned her desire to start a native prairie seed bank.

All these disparate efforts around the topic of native seeds have a very strong unifying thread. It is that the seed is valuable and that sources of that seed need to be both broader genetically and in larger quantities than is presently available. Why? And what are the implications?

Over the past forty years at my business I have come across many prairie remnants, both hayland and pasture. This has given me what I have come to realize was a skewed view of their abundance. I know of many remnants primarily because I have covered a lot of ground over the last forty years. There are not many roads or dirt trails that I have not gone down in my territory, an area of perhaps 1500 square miles. When I go over this history in my mind, however, I realize both that these remnants are not that common, and that they are slowly but surely decreasing both in number and quality. Several have been converted to crop ground, many of the pastures have been sprayed with herbicides, and even the practice of fertilizing hayland to increase hay production harms native species by giving an advantage to the introduced cool season grasses which are ubiquitous in our native grass. I am coming to feel that a high quality prairie remnant is not just “neat” or “cool”, but important and precious.

On my own farm there is a pasture adjacent to the farmstead that the dairy cows used. When I was growing up I dug prairie turnips and gathered pasqueflowers there. I’m sure it was overgrazed, but there were a lot of native forbs still there fifty years ago. I have looked at it recently and found only a few remnants hanging on in the worst soils, the rest having fallen victim to the combination of herbicide applications, nitrogen fertilization and overgrazing. It has basically become a tame grass pasture and the herbicides and fertilizer are perhaps justified now, though I haven’t allowed their use since I bought the land. Multiply that experience a thousand fold and you have the prairies of eastern South Dakota.

This is simply the “island effect”. Small populations can disappear, whether from a catastrophic event such as the plow or a broadcast herbicide application, a significant weather event, or the competition of invasive species. While well planned grazing can be a benefit to prairies, much grazing is done in a way that weakens native species. In small populations the diversity of the genome is degraded as traits are lost even though the species is still present. The world is a dangerous, competitive place, and in the arena of holding on to natural diversity size matters. Protective easements will not totally protect small prairies, and an occasional burn will only slow the process of the spread of invasive species. Every year populations of native species are disappearing from small prairies, and unique alleles, unique genes or combinations of genes from the larger meta-population, disappear. Without the support of a more diverse plant population available to re-seed, and the ability to bring back genetic traits through cross pollination, that species and that genetics is unlikely to return.

Bemoaning this trend is not the purpose of this post, however. Mourning is for the dead and the patient is not dead. Over the past five years 230 acres of prairie restorations have been my response, increasing the area around my remnants with new populations, those new plants coming from a combination of seed gathered from my own prairies, from other prairies and from seed that I purchase. In a sense I am enlarging the island, both in total population of a particular species, but also in the variety of genetic possibilities existing within that population. Some islands cannot be expanded geographically because land is not available, but can still be made more resilient by adding reinforcements by topdressing new seed. I hope to begin doing that on some of my existing prairie after I have finished seeding new areas.

And I am not alone. There is already a community of like minded people who are doing restorations of varying complexity. This is why seed is important. Relying only on seedhouses to provide the material for a restoration means that one is limited in species and is definitely limited in genetic diversity within the species that are available. It means a simplified palette for the greater biotic community to work with. Fewer pollinators have the right partners to pollinate; fewer insect larvae have the right food to eat; fewer bacteria, fungi, actinomycetes and all the varieties of life in the soil are able to flourish. However, over the past thirty years we have gone from CRP plantings of smooth brome, a non-native species, to plantings of 8-10 native species (which was the standard “diverse” planting when I put in my first patch of CRP twelve years ago) to many plantings of 30-40 species today. Maybe that can become 100 species with diverse genomes, ready to grow up and be somebody. The conservation community has grown, and has become aware of the benefits of true diversity. It needs the material to do a proper job.

This brings us back to the original topic, the idea of the prairie working group. For me, the big question is simply whether there are significant advantages with the efforts of a group over the sum of the individual efforts. Put another way, is it worth it to join forces? Or to ask a related question: What important activities can a group accomplish?

Obviously a group can be valuable simply as an excuse to meet and share information and discuss ideas. I deeply believe in the creativity inherent in the ferment of discussion and disagreement, and believe that we have much to learn from other’s experiences.

Let’s also return to the visits I mentioned earlier. Can a group provide the opportunity to expand and enhance the depth and power of TNC’s database? Can it become an addition to Lora Perkins’ project, whether through providing selections to increase, or working on the other end and taking some of Lora’s Foundation Seed and increasing in plots to provide larger amounts of seed to restorations and for the seed bank? Can we step outside of our parochial concerns to share and trade seed that we gather, creating richer, more resilient restorations? Can we share information of opportunities for restorations? For years I have dreamt about purchasing a property with the stated goal of restoring and perhaps then re-selling it after an easement is in place, but such a venture is too large for me at my age. It may not be too large for the group.

My flights of fancy are fine and might even be useful, but I think that the idea of identifying as many remnants as possible and cataloguing the species they contain is a worthy goal even if nothing else is accomplished. I could succumb to my own “island effect” one day soon. As a population of one the information in my brain is at great risk. If there is a group of like minded people and a database that has information on my prairies, then the resources on my land have a chance to be valuable to others and to the restorations that they will work on. Multiply this by the contributions of others from the group, and we may have something significant to give. I hope to set up a meeting soon, and then we can start to decide what is possible, and whether others think there are advantages to combining efforts.

This is exciting stuff for an old guy such as myself. I often think about what the “elders” of the world have to offer. While we are no longer as energetic or active as we once were, neither do we have the pressures of busy jobs or raising a family. And, hopefully, our experiences can provide some insight into how to manage some of the issues that occur with any project. We will see what we come up with.

Oak Savanna Dreams

I’m sitting here at the computer as the wind howls outside waiting for updates on a potential snowstorm tomorrow. Our place isn’t nearly as remote as the farm where I grew up, and where my restorations are, but it’s still on a township road 15 miles from town. One can feel isolated when the weather is tough, and because of my history of ER visits (about 10 in the last 3-4 years), it makes my wife nervous. We’ve talked for several years about moving, at least for the winter, to avoid that risk.

Three and a half years ago we bought a house in the Twin Cities for our daughter to live in, in a first ring suburb called Roseville, about a half mile from the city limits of St. Paul. She lived in it until last October, when she and her new husband moved to Orange County, California for job opportunities. So now we have an empty house in a well maintained area that we are doing some work on. Originally this was preparatory to renting it our while we decided what the long term plan for the house was. Now, however, we are considering using it as our winter home. Everything we need, including a couple medical providers that I already use, is within 3-4 miles, meaning city traffic is less of an issue than one would think. There is one very large barrier, at least for me, however; what the hell do I do with my time in a city?

One thing I have already done is to start a relationship with the Minnesota Land Trust (MLT) as a volunteer monitor of easement properties. That doesn’t help me much in the winter as monitoring is a summer activity, and the properties so far are in Western Minnesota, closer to our South Dakota farm than to the Twin Cities, but it’s an entry into relationships I wouldn’t otherwise have and to properties in conservation ownership. One of those properties, about halfway between, or two hours from each, is a terribly interesting property owned by Ann Gustafson. Its got a house, a couple cottages, some small pastures that she rents to a neighboring organic beef producer. some pollinator plantings, a small orchard and perhaps 200 acres of overgrown oak woodland. Her son, Frank, who is in law school, is engaged in the Herculean task of attempting to reclaim the woods from many, many acres of European buckthorn (Rhamnus cathartica) by going out day after day and using a brush cutter and a chain saw to clear areas during the summer.

Well, it’s pretty freaking impressive. This property is the legacy of Ann’s dad, Wally, who was a lawyer in Willmar (as Ann is), a legislator, and obviously a very cool guy. They love their property, want to honor that legacy by doing right by the land, and have several projects there. In my eyes, however, they’re lacking a strategic plan, and that’s most obvious in the buckthorn project. If they are able to eradicate buckthorn from substantial areas of their property, they will have a large empty biotic space that will need to be filled. Is it going to be filled by buckthorn, by annual weeds, by some other invasive shrub? Or can we fill that space with something that will provide some ecosystem services to contribute to the world? The three pillars of savanna restoration seem to be removing unwanted vegetation, planting species adapted to the partial shade of a savanna and maintaining with continued shrub/invasive species removal and fire. What specific combination of those three activities will make this property a shining light?

MLT has a small crew dedicated to restoration of landscapes, so I have attempted to put them in contact with Ann and Frank, but the way of the world is that everyone is always very busy. There are always limitations in time, money and energy. If you go back 150 years this wasn’t oak woodland or forest, it was probably oak savanna. One hundred miles west where I live there was prairie, not oak savanna, so my experience is less than thin, it is translucent; I needed the backup of MLT, which I wasn’t confident I could get. I have been pondering this as the wind blows and the temperature and dry air keeps me from living outside.

Then, two weeks ago, I saw an invitation to join the virtual annual meeting of The Prairie Enthusiasts, a land trust who is primarily engaged in the care for and rehabilitation of prairies intertwined with oak savannas in southern Wisconsin and southeast Minnesota. The theme for about fifteen speakers centered around the restoration and rehabilitation of oak savannas with the title: “Inspired by Resilience”. Perfect! Even though I hate Zoom meetings I made myself watch about half the presentations. I’m not sure that it was “resilience” that did it, but I am definitely inspired now. Oak savannas are not scattered oak trees with grass in between. They are not even scattered oaks with prairie in between. They are a true hybrid; an amalgam, that was stabilized by fires that kept the weedy shrubs from taking over. Their forb diversity has aspects of both oak woodland and tallgrass prairie, and as such, a functioning savanna is more diverse than either. The conference was capped by a presentation by Dr. Doug Tallamy, author of “Nature’s Best Hope”, a bestselling book whose main thesis is the good that could be done by suburban homeowners planting native species, particularly oaks, because of the deep symbiotic relationships oaks have with life forms from bears to countless insects to a myriad of species in the soil. I have a new cause. complimentary to my present love of prairie restoration, and accessible from the Twin Cities. I need to become an oak savanna restoration practitioner.

Before I can do that I need to learn a lot more about the biome, and I have started by pulling out my old A. W. Kuchler map of the “Potential Natural Vegetation of the United States”. I remember being interested by the significant area of the Midwest that was labeled a mosaic of Oak-Hickory forest and Tallgrass Prairie, and assumed that was how the oak savanna region would be designated. But, no, there was a separate designation for oak savanna, perhaps 10000 square miles in Wisconsin and Minnesota, with the two dominant and presumably diagnostic genera being oaks and bluestem grasses. Interestingly, this conflicts with some speakers at the conference, who talked about the partial shade of the savanna giving an advantage to C3 grasses such as needlegrasses and ryegrasses over C4 grasses like big bluestem and indiangrass. One speaker took it a step farther and emphasized the primacy of forbs, both prairie and woodland species, over even the grasses. And multiple speakers referenced the necessity of fire to providing a veneer of stability to a very dynamic system. The longevity and the aggressive rooting of oaks will otherwise eventually prevail and oak savanna will tend towards oak woodland, or often to oaks with a very messy shrub understory such as Ann’s property.

So that’s the big idea on one way to integrate me into urban life. There are many resources, both human and other, that I can access in the Twin Cities, most not too far from where our house is, to learn about and create restoration plans for oak savanna. This could be for Ann and Frank or for another property. Looking at the websites of the many conservation organizations based in and near the Twin Cities I see multiple references to oak savanna restoration projects, so it might be as simple as volunteering with the right group to facilitate my education. If anything of substance happens regarding this idea I will check back in. There will likely be more ideas, but this has given me hope and invigorated the anticipation of a new winter home.

What Have I Accomplished So Far?

I could probably rearrange the words and turn it into: “What I have accomplished so far!”, but that would imply certainty and confidence that I don’t feel. I vacillate between elation at some of my successes and worry about what I often perceive as failures, with emphasis on the failures. However, this would be a boring and frustrating post if every sentence ended with a question mark, so I will be bold and list some things that I have done and perhaps leave open what to call them. I have put much of this in several earlier posts, but wish to consolidate the story that began in 2017 with applying to put some of my land into the Conservation Reserve Program (CRP). And again, we start with a map.

This map is not the map that I created after an early assessment of the seeding success stemming from the seeding by the Day County Conservation District in June of 2018, which I have used in several posts. I had created a map with four zones. Most of the seed ending up in just one zone, about 30 acres in the south central part of the field;, some seed dropped in the areas in the southwest and the northeast part of the restoration, and almost no seed in the rest. I was heartbroken, but decided to just keep applying seed until, hopefully, I had something useful. Thus, supplemental seedings were done on all zones other than the 30 acres which already had plenty of seed. Some areas had three additions of seed over the next year, both gathered and purchased. Much of the restoration was an awkward mishmash of situations that time and development is now clarifying. That clarity has induced me to create a new map delineating management zones shown below.

Zone 1: The Big Success!!!

This area, roughly the northwest half of the restoration, was almost empty six months after the original seeding. There was a very obvious boundary with Zone 2 where almost all the seed had dropped. Boundaries aren’t as distinct as the map above because the tractor operator obviously became aware that there were problems with the seed bridging in the seed tank, and would go push it down, after which the seed would flow for a bit. Most of the plants in Zone 1, however, are from the supplemental seedings, and many of the forbs are from the native seed gathered in 2018 and 2019. Here are a few views, beginning with two from 2019 of the empty wasteland it was at that time, and followed by three from 2021 of the verdant prairie it is becoming.

Most of Zone 1 has not just filled in, but carries a wonderfully diverse assortment of forbs. After much angst the first couple years, some of it documented in other blog posts, it is a resounding success and where I always take visitors. Going forward, this is the area where I will spend the most time, attempting to manage it to keep, or perhaps grow, forb diversity and to give the most effort towards enhancing it as Dakota skipper habitat. The poor stand that was attained by the original seeding in much of this area was a gift that I didn’t deserve (Do we ever truly deserve anything?). I say that, as it induced me to gather the large quantities of native forb seed that were spread several different times over the course of the last three years. Yes, I have added more seed even this year, after stating repeatedly that I was finished spreading seed, and even more additions are possible in the future if I am strong.

An example is the addition of two wildflowers that hold special significance to me because I knew them (and ate them) as a kid; groundplum milkvetch (Astragalus crassicarpus), and prairie turnip (Pediomelum esculenta). This past year I have wandered appropriate areas of Zone 1 and carefully dropped seeds into open areas and the little spoil piles dug out by pocket gophers and badgers, placing individual seed in places where there is some potential room to develop. Finding those two species in my restoration has given me much satisfaction and I want to increase their populations to give them sufficient density to allow cross pollination. I have also saved some seed back of these, and several other species of wildflowers in order to prepare the seed this winter with both the cold period they would receive out on the ground, but also scarification, breaking through the hard seed coat with abrasion. Then they can be seeded early next spring ready to go, well dressed for the party, I have given some of that seed to Dr. Lora Perkins at South Dakota State University to and will pay her project to start seedlings that I can transplant to establish. There are other examples of wildflowers that I would like to add or augment that will involve time and energy that I am not sure I will have, but will keep in mind for when opportunities arise.

A larger goal for this zone is to begin to document not only the flora, which I have done, but the fauna. It would be very interesting to hook up with an entomologist who could help me document the insect diversity that I hope is finding my plants, and perhaps a microbiologist who could help me document any changes in microbial life. This winter will hopefully allow me to make some new contacts who can help.

Zone 2: A Success

You may notice that there are no exclamation points in this heading. Zone 2 is based around the original Zone 1 along with some of the low ground that I called Zone 2 on the original map. It has much better soils than the new Zone 1, has many more plants attributable to the purchased seed of the original seeding, and has only a few plants that trace to seed that I have gathered. It is exactly what people think of when they think of a prairie restoration, with all the common species that are used in plantings over this region, and though I spend much less time here than in the new Zone 1, I believe that it is providing almost all the ecosystem services I hope for. Because of the combination of earlier grass establishment and better soils that allow a thicker sod than in Zone 1 there is little point in spending many resources adding new seed. There is simply not enough biotic room to justify the cost when I have better uses for the seed. New seed is not likely to be able to find a home, at least until I introduce some disturbance to shake up the original homesteaders. The main activity I am engaging in here is to do some spot-treating of the worst thistles, in an attempt to allow for more of the native plant materials to flourish. Though it is not as much fun for me as Zone 1, I am pleased with the results. Two representative photos are below.

Zone 3: A Success, Sort of …

Zone 3 on the new map is primarily the old Zone 4, the thistle management zone, 25 acres on the east side of the restoration that adjoin a farmed field. After two applications of herbicide in 2019 and 2020, thistle populations were much reduced, most of the few forbs that had grown were eliminated, and the native grass mix that I re-seeded in 2019 is filling in. The combination of the thistle treatment and the lack of forb seed that was seeded here means that it is almost a pure, very diverse, grass seeding, with perhaps 15 species of native grass plus brome and Kentucky bluegrass. The list of ecosystem services this area is providing is shorter: we won’t be feeding nectar or pollen to many insects here, and even carbon sequestration will be less because of the lack of legumes to provide nitrogen for the grasses. I have begun to topdress wildflower seed in some areas where the grass is thin and there is still potential room for new seedlings. It will be very interesting if I see anything at all next year, or whether I threw away five hundred dollars. In any case, I am heartened by the positive things that have been accomplished here and no longer feel I have wasted my attempts, even if I hesitate to call this a prairie restoration. If nothing else, it is a buffer from the cropped field to the east, providing some space to insure against insecticide drift reaching the area with good pollinator habitat. Thus I am pleased with the results here, though it is only because I compare it to the absolute disaster that it was in the spring of 2019.

I no longer have the illusion that I am done with active management or improvement of the original 100 acre restoration. My guess is that I will be gainfully employed here until I am no longer able to do the work. What I do from now on will only enhance ecosystem services incrementally, if at all, but I know I will be compelled to immerse myself in the landscape and look forward to all that might entail.

Next Year

In the upper right corner of the map at the beginning of the post is a block labeled “2022 seeding”. I had not included this in the original restoration for two reasons. First, it was already overwhelming to be attempting a restoration on 100 acres, both in work and expense. Another 20 acres was just too much. Mainly though, I was just uncomfortable taking that many acres out of farming, In my heart and soul I am a farmer, and at that point I decided that I couldn’t give myself to the project that completely. The heart is a fickle thing, however, and I have a new love. My confidence that my restoration is a good thing, a moral decision, has grown immeasurably over the past four years. In addition, my confidence in my abilities to accomplish a restoration has also grown immeasurably, buttressed by the results detailed above. As we used to say about our abilities to perform a task when I was growing up: “We’re not just pissing around here!” While I’d been considering adding these 20 acres to the restoration for the past couple years, an event occurred last summer to close the deal.

As stated in several previous posts, the biggest driver of this project was the discovery of Dakota skipper butterflies on my native prairie, a federally listed species. My restoration would adjoin the prairie where the skippers had been found, and provide at best an extension of habitat, and at worst a buffer from surrounding cropped ground. The adjoining farm field, including the 20 acres that I hope to seed, was in soybeans in 2021 and became infested with bean leaf beetles. The renter, who understandably didn’t want to lose appreciable soybean yield to the hungry invader, had a plane apply an insecticide. While the application was at least a quarter mile away from the area where the threatened butterflies had been found in the past, it was a reminder of the fragility of the situation. Very little use of insecticide is made in this area, but insect populations are dynamic, and it could happen again next year. And I am not just concerned with Dakota skippers, but the whole panoply of insect and other life that might use the restoration. In this case bigger is definitely better, so there will be 20 new acres seeded next year.

The Huggett Restoration, Soon to be a Success

This leads to a different attempt at restoration, 20 acres in the northwest quarter of the section that I call the Huggett ground, that was originally seeded in November of 2020. I have recently written a blog entry on this so I won’t belabor the story, but the condensed version is that it looks like nothing is growing but a lot of weeds until you get down to look closely.

This restoration doesn’t look like much yet, not even in close, as there is a lot of space between native plant seedlings. However, it looks much better than most of the 100 acre restoration did at a similar point. Because of the lessons I learned on that restoration I have recently completed a supplemental seeding and have been diligently spot-treating the invasive thistles and wormwood sage. The Huggett restoration is already developing some good bones which will hopefully develop as the years go by.

The Success of Relationships

Something I don’t hesitate to label an accomplishment is the connections I have made with the greater conservation community through the restorations. Many people in the business are very interested in a project like mine, particularly because it is primarily independent of their efforts, which perhaps makes it a bit inspirational. I am not unique, except as all of us are unique. There are others who would like to create such a project, or perhaps would come to that goal if they saw what is possible. That is one reason for me to keep moving forward, to turn this farm into something that is both a demonstration of what is possible, but also perhaps an inspiration to reach for more than what is normally being done. A prairie restoration is often a seeding of 25 or 30 commonly available species purchased and blended at a seedhouse. With good luck in establishment, such a restoration can provide many ecosystem services, but I think there is more to reach for. The models I follow are the many prairie restorations in other areas of the upper Midwest much larger and more diverse than mine. However, I know of nothing comparable in the combination of scope and diversity of my restorations within 100 miles of my farm. Landowners who would consider such a project can be educated and cultivated to create projects that can be small “clawbacks” from our anthropogenic landscape to the natural world. Conservation professionals have the contacts to extend their reach beyond the resources within their organizations and governmental entities, and to help create a larger restoration community, and I hope that this project can provide a local example to consider and improve upon. There is a land trust, The Prairie Enthusiasts, which has several chapters in southern Wisconsin which is both protecting native prairie remnants and acting as a learning group for prairie restorations they are undertaking. Why don’t I organize such a group myself? Sadly, I no longer have the time and energy, and such an undertaking is very difficult without the ability to speak. I think I have found my calling, to work on my farm to create a model for others to consider, an example to ponder and to learn from, and perhaps then to show others. That is what this “used up” old farm boy can aspire towards, what I can reach for. My winter is for continuing to deepen the relationships that I have, perhaps expand that to some new people, and to plan what steps can be taken to enhance both the restoration of my farm and to magnify its worth to society.

You may have noticed that I have used the word “success” several times in my headings. I proudly proclaim that I am a determined optimist. While “best” may not be attainable, “better” is always in view, a beacon to draw one forward. The glass isn’t half full or half empty, it is simply under the pitcher being filled. Success is inherently a subjective concept, giving me the freedom to choose what I define as successful, but I hope that it is justified in the results on the ground so far, and in the possibilities around the bend. It’s been an extremely rewarding four years of work. We will enter 2022 very soon and wonderful things await.

Fun in the Cold

When I was planning how to accomplish the best restoration possible on the Huggett land, a 20 acre parcel that was seeded last fall, I tried to incorporate the lessons that I had learned on past attempts. The base seeding was done with a Truax drill, a much improved choice over the John Deere no-till drill that had been used on the 100 acre seeding in 2018. I was able to be on site during the seeding, giving me some confidence that a good job was done. I used a higher seeding rate to hopefully achieve full cover in a shorter time. I obsessively patrolled for Canada thistle , hoping to keep it from getting a foothold, trying to eliminate individual plants. All this was at best only partly successful because of a hot, dry summer before our deluge began in mid-August. So, finally, a positive lesson I had learned was that until you have established plants, with the grasses beginning to create a sod, it is very worthwhile to add additional seed. Thus, a fall topdressing of the seed that I gathered this past year would be a valuable exercise. And so that was what I was doing last week as a cold front blew through.

It wasn’t horrible out there. It was right at 30 degrees, snowing lightly and the wind was bearable, not the howling banshee that it often is in early December. I had been out with a friend a couple weeks earlier and we had covered the whole site spreading seed by hand. Some of the seed I wanted to spread was unavailable, however, being stored at another friend’s, and I wanted to spread that as well. The restoration site is not accessible if we get much snow, being half a mile down a dirt trail from the nearest maintained road, and while it would have been fine to save some seed to spread next spring, I prefer to let nature do the work through the winter overcoming seed dormancy. Thus, last week, I went to get the rest of my seed, and when I finished the three hours of hand spreading I was cold, tired, hungry and very satisfied with my day. How much fun can an old guy have without being around grandkids? This pretty well maxes it out for me.

Tangentially, I found that one interesting thing was how easy it was to identify where soils changed from xeric to mesic. The light color on all the hills is from yellow foxtail residue. As you come to lower ground where moisture relations are kinder to plants and soil that has eroded from the hills accumulates, it becomes dark, which is the residue of tall waterhemp, both species being common weeds. Here’s another look at what I saw when I was out throwing seed around.

Another related tangent: a couple days ago I drove to South Dakota State University campus in Brookings to visit Professor Lora Perkins. She has developed a project growing many species of native wildflowers from seed, learning the best methods of handling and propagation. This is the second time I have contributed material to her project and I brought down about 10 containers of seed from different forb species, several of which would be new to her efforts. Much to my delight she traded me back two envelopes of seed derived from material I had originally contributed, as well as another species that I occasionally find in my prairies that I have been unable to gather, but can now spread next spring. As I hope to begin my own project of growing wildflower seed Lora is an extremely valuable source of information for me, as well as great fun to visit. Some of seed I gathered and that Lora grew has even become integrated into landscaping at SDSU by a young horticulturist I happen to know, Tanner, who was friends with my daughter when she was in graduate school at SDSU. South Dakota society is a small and cozy place and these sorts of connections are common, but still a source of fun and satisfaction. Next spring Lora said she will give my wife and me a tour of her plots and show us what is growing in her greenhouse, and maybe we will look up Tanner. and see where our contribution to beautifying the campus has been planted. It’s a good life if you don’t weaken, with rewards around every corner.

Species List for 100 Acre Restoration

First, as I have often attested, the 100 acres is far from a homogeneous prairie restoration. There are areas of various floristic complexity through the field, most notably there are 25 acres on the east side which is almost a pure stand of grass, devoid of wildflowers. This area was nearly bereft of seed from the original 2018 planting, and grew up to a solid stand of Canada thistle. I then topdressed it in 2019 with a mixture of grasses. Subsequently, this area was sprayed with herbicide in fall of 2019 and 2020 to kill the thistles. Though some thistles have begun to grow back, I am beginning to spread some forb seed to establish a wildflower presence. Thus this list mostly concerns the other 70-75 acres, particularly 40-50 acres of rolling gravelly hills on the west side which adjoins the native pasture where Dakota skipper butterflies have been found. After the common name I give the scientific name, as common names vary. The species are grouped by an exceedingly subjective measurement of relative abundance. Most of the species that I list as abundant are primarily derived from purchased seed, though often supplemented by gathered seed, with some notable exceptions I will point out. At the end of the list of species that I have found in the restoration is a second list of species that were planted that I have not yet Identified, but that I still expect to find. Though there about 45 species that I planted and have not yet found, the second list only includes 12 species, as many of the 45 species were spread in such low quantities that it is unrealistic to expect that I will ever see them. With all the disclaimers and qualifiers out of the way, here goes:

Species which are very common, most of which were in the original mix of purchased seed which was seeded by the Conservation District. Almost anywhere on the better 70 acres of the restoration you will find all these within 100′ or so:

1.Yarrow, Achillea millifolium

2.Canada milkvetch, Astragalus canadensis

3. Cudleaf sagewort, Artemisia ludoviciana

4. Fringed sagewort, A. frigida

5. Big bluestem, Andropogon gerardii

6. Sideoats grama, Bouteloua curtipendula

7. Blue grama, B. gracilis

8. Downy painted cup, Castilleja sessiflora (almost entirely from a handful of very tiny gathered seed)

9. Tall cinquefoil, Drymocallis arguta (same note as above, except it was from a larger quantity)

10. Canada wildrye, Elymus canadensis

11. Black samson, Echinacea angustifolia (I have obsessively, and perhaps unsustainably, gathered this. It was the one wildflower that all sources agreed upon as an important source of nectar for the Dakota skipper butterfly, it is common on my prairies, it is easy to gather as the seeds stay in the heads for many weeks and it is an iconic prairie plant to me.)

12. Blanketflower, Gaillardia aristata (Though I spread some that I gathered, most is from seed purchased which was grown in Colorado. This has meant that the population is actually dropping because the genotype lacks the proper components for cold hardiness.)

13. Maximillian sunflower, Helianthus maximilliani

14. Prairie junegrass, Koeleria macrantha

15, Wild bergamot/Horsemint, Monarda fistulosa

16. Shell leaf/Showy penstemon, Penstemon grandiflorus

17. Western wheatgrass, Pascopyrum smithii

18. Yellow coneflower, Ratibida columnifera

19. Gray headed coneflower, Ratibida pinnata

20. Black eyed susan, Rudbeckia hirta

21. Missouri goldenrod, Solidago missouriensis (though I spread some seed of this, both gathered and purchased, I think most of this blew in and seeded itself down on its own)

22. Little bluestem, Schizachyrium scoparium (Andropogon was so much easier to spell before they changed the genus. That’s a very nerdy botanist’s lament)

23. Indiangrass, Sorghastrum nutans

24. Golden alexander, Zizia aurea

25. Common milkweed, Asclepias syriaca

26. Purple prairie clover, Dalea purpurea

27. Slender wheatgrass, Elymus trachycaulus

28. False sunflower, Heliopsis helianthoides

29. Green needlegrass, Nassella viridula

30. Stiff goldenrod, Oligoneuron rigida

31. Slender penstemon, Penstemon gracilis (yet another small-seeded species where a small amount of gathered seed thoroughly colonized the restoration)

32. Foxglove penstemon, Penstemon digitalis (This species was neither gathered nor purchased but came along as a mistake or a contaminant of the purchased seed mix; a happy accident.)

33. Heath aster, Symphyotricum ericoides (Again, it would be much simpler if the generic name was still Aster.)

34. Switchgrass, Panicum virgatum

35. Silky aster, Symphyotricum sericeum

36. Canada goldenrod, Solidago canadensis, This should really go in the following group because it is only found in the mesic to wet mesic areas on perhaps 10-15% of the restoration.

37. Gray goldenrod, Solidago nemoralis

38. Hoary vervain, Verbena stricta

The following group of species are more widely scattered than the first group. They may be common in areas and absent in others, or just widely dispersed. They all have populations which should allow easy cross pollination, and if they are competitive they might be common in the future. Many of these are species primarily or exclusively from gathered seed.

39. Leadplant, Amorpha canescens

40. Groundplum milkvetch, Astragalus crassicarpus

41. Pasqueflower, Anemone patens

42. Thimbleflower, A. cylindrica

43. Prairie onion Allium stellatum

44. Rose milkweed, Asclepias incarnata

45. False boneset, Brickellia eupatoroides

46. Fox sedge, Carex vulpinoides

47. Unknown wetland sedge, Carex sp.

48. White prairie clover, Dalea candida

49. Showy tick trefoil, Desmodium canadense

50. Northern bedstraw, Galium boreale (I am seeing much less of this during the summer of 2022. Withholding judgement for now.)

51. Prairie smoke, Geum triflorum (Opposite comment to above. These arbitrary classifications are based upon 2021 observations, and I have seen far more this year. Almost should lift it a category.)

52. Stiff sunflower, Helianthus pauciflorus (Ditto to above comment. Lots more pauciflorus in 2022, plus the rhizome effect.)

53. Porcupine grass, Stipa spartea (This was all from gathered seed, and as it is a terrible pain in the ass to spread I am very satisfied that we got a decent catch.)

54. Hairy goldaster, Heterotheca villosa

55. Alumroot, Heuchera richardsonii Quite a few to begin, but decreasing, probably because it was from ill-adapted seed. Lots in adjoining prairies, so I will try to increase.

56. Dudley’s rush, Juncus dudleyi

57. Unknown rush, Juncus sp.

58. Prairie lettuce, Lactuca biennis

59. Great blue lobelia, Lobelia siphilicata

60. Dotted gayfeather, Liatris punctata

61. Rough gayfeather, L. aspera

62. False gromwell, Omosmodium molle

63. Evening primrose, Oenothera biennis (This was everywhere the first two years, but has found a harder time reseeding itself as the sod forms.

64. White penstemon, Penstemon albidus (Another species that is increasing, probably seeding itself in. Should probably go into the first group.)

65. Prairie ragwort, Packera plattensis

66. Prairie rose, Rosa arkansana

67. New England aster, Symphyotricum novae-angliae

68. Smooth blue aster, S. laeve

69. Sky blue aster, S. oolentangiense

70. Aromatic aster, S. oblongifolium

71. Blue vervain, Verbena hastata

72. Prairie violet, Viola pedatifida

73. Heart leafed golden alexander, Zizia aptera

74. Pennsylvania cinquefoil, Potentilla pennsylvanica (This was a forb I didn’t expect to see, as I gathered very little, but it has been surprisingly successful.)

75. Blue eyed grass, Sisyrinchium campestre

The next group on the list are species of which I saw only a few plants this year, less than 10. I certainly don’t claim to be friends with every plant on the entire 100 acres, but I spend a lot of time out there, so I am confident that they are uncommon. While I hope (and expect) that there are more individuals of these species, it is a source of satisfaction whenever I find a new one.

76. Slender milkvetch, Astragalus flexuosus (One of the big successes of 2022. May need to pop this up a notch.)

77. Canada anemone, Anemone canadensis (I am surprised that I haven’t seen more of these as a fair amount of gathered seed was spread, though it is always possible that most of my gathered seed had insect predation)

78. Nodding onion, Allium cernuum

79. Field pussytoes, Antennaria neglecta

80. Whorled milkweed, Asclepias verticillata

81. Anise hyssop, Agastache foeniculum, (I saw this the last couple years, but have found none this year. This might have been lost.) Update: Saw several blooming late summer 2022

82. Yellow sundrops, Calylophus serrulatus

83. Kalm’s brome, Bromus kalmii

84. Chickweed, Cerastium arvense

85. Flat topped aster, Doellingeria umbellata

86. Scarlet gaura, Gaura coccinea

87. Downy gentian, Gentiana puberulenta (This was another great surprise. Downy gentian doesn’t make good seed until October, and I have invariably gathered it after cold weather, making me uncertain about seed viability. I was very happy when my friend Ben found two blooming this fall, and I have hopes to see more next year.)

88. Sawtooth sunflower, Helianthus grosserserratus (2022 update: quite a few blooming along drainageways, perhaps 20 or 30)

89. Fringed puccoon, Lithospermum incisum (This was fun to find because I put no seed out on the restoration of this, but there are plenty of plants on the prairie bordering the restoration.)

90. Grooved yellow flax, Linum sulcatum (This is an annual that can be very common or absent in my nearby native prairies. Two years ago I saw quite a few in the restoration, but because of a hot, dry June last year I saw none in my native prairies and only one or two in the restoration.)

91. Prairie turnip, Pediomelum esculenta (This, to me, is the most evocative, iconic plant of my nearby prairies, and I was ecstatic when I found two this summer. I continue to carefully plant some, and hope to see more in the future.)

92. Meadow rue, Thalictrum dasycarpum (This is another increasing species, I saw several colonies building along the runs.)

93. Western spiderwort, Tradescantia occidentalis

94. American vetch, Vicia americana

95. Ironweed, Vernonia fasciculata

96. Mountain mint, Pycnanthemum virginianum, (This is another of the species which is finding its place in the restoration. This will probably be moved to the category above.)

97. Standing milkvetch, Astragalus adsurgens

98. Early figwort, Scrophularia lanceolata

99. Prairie larkspur, Delphinium virescens

100. Needle and thread, Stipa comata

101. Flodmans thistle, Cirsium flodmanii

These are a few species I saw the first year of the restoration, but not since, likely because the seed source population wasn’t as cold tolerant as was needed.

102. Butterfly weed, Asclepias tuberosus

103. Partridge pea, Chaemecrista fasciculata

104. Prairie coreopsis, Coreopsis palmata

105. Illinois bundleflower, Desmamnthus illinoencis

106. Wild mint, Mentha arvensis

So that’s the list as well as my memory and poor botanical skill allows. But I will add a list of species that I hope to see in the future because of : 1) The amount of seed that I spread of that plant, 2) It might be there, but I haven’t walked by when a flower or seedhead was out, 3) that I hope to see because I am still adding seed of that species, or 4) I have missed because I am blind and clueless.

1. American sloughgrass, Beckmannia syzgachne
2. Tall dropseed, Sporobolus heterolepis
3. Prairie sandreed, Calamovilfa longifolia
4. Prairie cordgrass, Spartina pectinata
5. Plains bluegrass, Poa aristada
6. Bluejoint, Calamagrostis canadensis
7. American licorice, Glycyrrhiza lepidota
8. Joe Pye weed, Eutrochium purpureum
9. Wood betony, Pedicularis canadensis
10. Rattlesnake root, Prenanthes alba
11. Textile onion, Allium textile
12. Nutalls violet, Viola nutallii
13. Wood betony. Pedicularis canidensis So that’s it for now. Might there be more in the future? Certainly, but I will also likely lose some on the less common species to the vagaries of climate and the inevitable difficulties of reproduction. However, I may be counter-intuitively aided by the terrible soil of much of the site. A common complaint of practitioners of prairie restoration is the loss of forbs as they are out-competed by grasses. This is less likely on the xeric half of my project which carries the most diversity because the gravelly soils will not allow the grasses to create a thick sod and there is likely to always be some room for new seedlings. This will be aided by the planned disturbances of fire and grazing. And if I am fortunate I will get to reevaluate for many years. I will likely update this list at the end of the 2022 field season.

Postscript:

While I have already added several species earlier in 2022, here are recent additions from late July through early September:

1. Virginia wildrye, Elymus virginicus, A grass more common in moist woodlands, it is establishing along the drainageways
2. Northern plains blazing star, or prairie blazing star, Liatris ligustylis, This is very closely related to Liatris aspera, listed above, and may even hybridize with it, but it appears I have a few of both.
3. Prairie blazing star, Liatris pycnostachya
4. Harebell, Campanula rotundifolia
5. Yellow avens, Geum aleppicum
6. Panicled aster, Symphyotricum lanceolatum
7. Prairie dropseed, Sporobolus heterolepis
8. Prairie cordgrass, Spartina pectinata
9. Prairie sandreed, Calamovilfa longifolia
10. Bottle gentian, Gentiana andrewsii
11. Joe Pye weed, Eutrochium maculatum
12. Unknown white flowered aster, Symphyotrichum sp.
13. Green milkweed, Asclepias viridiflora (from spring transplants)
14. Ball cactus, Coryphantha vivipara (again, from transplants)
15. Slim leafed milkweed, Asclepias stenophylla (transplants)
16. Spotted bee balm, Monarda punctata, This is a sister species to wild bergamot, Monarda fistulosa, and I thought it was just an atypical example until I saw several. I am not sure where they came from.

September 20. 2022 update: I feel that I have forgotten a couple, but this makes 122 species found on the restoration, far more than I ever imagined, and wonderfully satisfying. Additions are still possible – finding the bottle gentians was a thing of chance while investigating other issues, and I hope to add a few more species through transplanting over the next couple years. Also, notice that I got several hits from my list of species I expected could show up. So that is likely it for 2022, though I will add if needed.

March 26, 2024 update: I have edited and added comments on some of the species listed above, and below I list a few additions from last year, as well as a couple we are transplanting this spring.

1. Culvers root (Veronicastrum virginicum) A single plant which I was shocked to see and ID.
2. Wolfberry/Snowberry/Buckbrush (Symphoricarpus occidentalis) A small, common native shrub which found its own way in.
3. False indigo (Amorpha fruiticosa) Ditto the previous comment.
4. Sand sage (Artemisia campestris) A somewhat weedy biennial which seeded itself in.
5. Curlycup gumweed (Grindelia squarrosa) Again, ditto the previous comment.
6. Oval leaved milkweed (Asclepias ovalifolia) Transplant from Dave Ode seed.
7. Unknown milkvetch (Astragalus sp.) Was given a mislabeled packet of old seed by my friend Dr. Arvid Boe which still needs clarification.
8. Showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa) See note for Canada goldenrod above.
9. Plains Muhly (Muhlenbergia cuspidata) I found a few plants in the adjoining pasture to dig for Arvid; he grew them in his greenhouse space, and then we gave seeds to Dr. Lora Palmer to grow for seedling plugs to transplant. Anyway, I have some in the restoration now.

That’s all that I can remember for now though I am likely missing a couple. That brings the total found to 131 species, of which perhaps 8-10 aren’t there anymore and another 8-10 are there in very small numbers. Surveying is one of the many priorities I have this summer (2024) and I hope to do a total rewrite this fall or winter. I know that I have a few other species in the 20 acre Huggett restoration which I will document this summer and also list this fall.

The New Restoration – Progress

When I was planning for seeding a 20 acre patch of restored prairie last fall I wrote a blog post entitled “The New Restoration”, detailing what my ideas were to make this new project a wonderful prairie restoration by incorporating the lessons from earlier work. This I tried to do, and the restoration was seeded in early November of 2020, with a base mix put in by the local Conservation District with a Truax drill, and a significant amount of gathered seed spread over the top, broadcast both with a spinner spreader and by hand. Immediately after completing the seeding I had a big surgery, a laryngectomy, to which I lost my entire winter in recovery and therapy. So it was with great anticipation that I went to the field in late April, but all I saw coming up were areas of thick cheatgrass. This was a bit disappointing, but not really unexpected considering the history of the field. Cheat is crazy competitive, so I lined up the neighbor to spray Roundup to kill the cheat before any of the seeds from the restoration seeding germinated. My hopes ran high.

As the spring progressed, a very dry winter turned into a very dry spring and early summer, so I was patient until we finally had a good rain in early June. What appeared after the rain was not a carpet of prairie flowers, but a thick carpet of yellow foxtail, a weedy, annual grass. Weeds are certainly expected in any restoration, and at first this didn’t concern me very much, but as June progressed I became more worried. The foxtail was extremely thick, to the point of precluding all other growth over most of the field, and it was dry enough to wonder how any new seedling could compete with the annual grass carpet. In droughty soils which are often planted to wheat this foxtail seed bank is a common phenomena; the lack of competition in mid-late summer from a thin (because of the poor soils) maturing wheat crop almost invariably allows foxtails to proliferate and make lots of seed right before the wheat is harvested. I could have attempted to combat this by fallowing the field for a year before seeding the restoration and attempting not to allow any weeds to go to seed, thus hoping to limit the amount of weed competition the subsequent year. However, that is not an easy task, as life always seems to find a way, so I now had a decision to make. Very little of my planting had yet germinated, as I only saw a few cool season perennial grass seedlings; but new seedlings of many species are very cryptic, and I might have more out there than I thought.

I decided to trust 40 years of agronomic experience and to have another herbicide application made, this one specific to grasses, and to hope that the perennial grass seedlings that I knew I would be killing (primarily wheatgrasses and green needlegrass which had germinated in the June rain) would be replaced by plenty of brothers and sisters later. The application would spare any dicots, whether weeds or wildflowers, so this didn’t affect my plans to mow the restoration twice later in the summer. My hopes were still high, but tempered with the realization that I was killing some plants that I didn’t want to kill. And the summer sped on.

Or at least it sped on for those who enjoy warm, sunny days at the beach. If you are a farmer, or a seed hoping to germinate, the endless days of sunshine and 90 degrees were a millstone around the neck, a trial to be endured. While this was certainly not a drought of historic proportions, it was damned hot and dry. The wheat crop withered, the pasture grasses turned brown and it was looking like a bad year for my restoration to be starting. I remember going up and down the hills in early August and searching in vain for seedlings that I was responsible for seeding. While I was confident that many of the seeds would be there for next year, I still would have felt much better had I felt I was achieving some cover over the erosive hills. I was starting to regret my second herbicide application, and my hope was wavering.

Any average hides the fact that it is simply the mathematical mean of what might be wildly disparate inputs, a mean of extremes. And so it was this year. When the year ends the records will show a rainfall total for 2021 slightly above average for the 130 years that measurements have been taken. In that average year almost half the rain falls from May 1 through the end of July. This year we had less than half our average rainfall during that period, but then almost 300% of our average precipitation during August, September and October, normally drier months. Any rainy spell is often casually referred to as a “monsoon”, but the term refers to a specific phenomena of moisture flowing on winds induced by the differential heating of land and water. The rising air caused by the heating of the ground draws in cooler, moisture-laden air from over the ocean. The Indian subcontinent famously has the summer monsoon (My daughter was married in Goa, on the west coast of India, in July several years ago, and it was as if the gods were dumping buckets from the heavens. It wasn’t like the thunderstorms that I was accustomed to; it was more like a direct transfer of those buckets being lifted from the Arabian Sea to our west, and then pouring out as a warm, if overwhelming, shower to rinse away the sweat that dripped from our bodies in the incredible humidity), but the southwest United States has a monsoon as well, and sometimes the winds bring those rains as far as South Dakota. When that contribution was added to an abnormally busy traditional late summer rain regime we ended up with almost 20″ of rain in a little over three months, much more rain than we had received in the previous 12 months. What were the effects of all this water?

What had been a wasteland was transformed into a nursery. Of course, not all the plants were desirable, as the pictures all show; the sun shines and the rain falls on saint and sinner alike; but by early October I could find at least a couple native perennial seedlings per square foot almost everywhere I went. In the meantime I had already ordered a supply of seed, primarily grasses, to blend with all my gathered forbs to “salvage” the restoration. Though I have so far been unable to get much spread I still have hopes for an opportunity. However, if I am unable to get to the field because the grass trail I use to access it is blocked with snow I will feel that there is already a fine start to the restoration. I believe in redundancy, and to waste some seed on the areas which are well stocked with young plants in order to help areas less well stocked will feel fine.

As always there is a bit of “cherry picking” to make sure the prettiest pictures get in the blog, but there are a lot of new seedlings that germinated during the wet spell that began in early August. Dormancies of all kinds had undoubtedly been overcome, and I just hope that there was sufficient time for those seedlings to establish crowns so they can overwinter. The main reason for seed dormancy is so that seedlings don’t start too late in the fall, but rather wait for the next spring, and it is possible that some started too late this fall. So if I am able I will broadcast another batch of seed this week and some of those will perhaps be there ready to germinate as reinforcements next spring. And once more, as I enter my 67th year, I also will await spring. As I get older and accumulate more physical ailments the waiting becomes more poignant, the anticipation sharper and the coming of new life in April sweeter. Every season is more likely than the last to be the final time I can envelop myself in the prairie and be at home. But mindfulness demands my attention to the arc of this year, to November of 2021, and so I will try to finish it on a high note with the accomplishment of spreading the additional seed. Perhaps I can even find an opportunity to wander a bit in the hills before the weather shuts me down. It will make the waiting easier to know that I didn’t waste November.

POSTSCRIPT: Today (November 19) a retired friend came out to help me topdress seed. We walked repeatedly up and down the field and hand spread mixtures of purchased and gathered seed across the 20 acres, each of us walking perhaps five miles trying to do a good job. Though I am sure we missed some areas, with the help of a 15 mph crosswind I think that most of the field got some additional seed. A flock of horned larks was certainly interested in the new food source, but I have very high hopes that some of that seed will evade their grasp to germinate next spring and summer and add depth to the restoration. I am very tired and sore this evening and very happy.