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.

I Get By With a Little Help From My…

Not a terribly creative title to steal from the Beatles, I know, but I have decided that I need to buckle down and get some thoughts on the blog. My last post was written just before I hosted a gathering of eight conservation professionals at my restoration for a field day and brainstorming session. There were three biologists from the South Dakota Game, Fish and Parks Department (GFP), the rangeland specialist for the South Dakota Cooperative Extension Service, and employees for Audubon Dakota, Ducks Unlimited (DU), The Nature Conservancy (TNC), US Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) and my partner in this venture, Ben who works for Pheasants Forever (PF). What surprised me a little was the depth of interest and knowledge from some of the participants. Most were prairie nerds, just as I am, and really dug into what was out there.

Selfishly, I was most interested in what I could learn from the collective experience of the participants, of course. Secondarily I hoped to deliver the message that the site is available as an example of what can be done with marginal farmground. I put together some maps and handwritten summaries of the project history and goals, similar to what I put into my last blog post, and off we went on walkabout.

The main questions I wanted to explore were:

1. How seriously should I pursue Canada thistle control?
2. How should I go about augmenting forb diversity in areas lacking diversity? This is especially true in areas where I have had to apply Milestone herbicide to thin out thistle patches.
3. Ideas on burning.
4. Could my restoration be used as the basis of a “learning group” of prairie enthusiasts? (That name is already used for an organization in Wisconsin, but as long as I don’t capitalize it I feel it is fair game to use as a descriptive phrase)

The first question was the most trenchant, as I hope to do some spraying of thistle patches in the next couple weeks as opportunity allows. Not sure how the picture will translate, but here is what at least 2-3 acres of the restoration looks like.

The consensus of the group was simply to go easy. As far as I could tell, none of the participants were purists, and most had personal experience with handling thistles in restorations, including the use of Milestone herbicide. There were a couple comments along the lines of “You call this a bad infestation?” However, I had made the choice of showing them the best of the restoration, and we didn’t spend much time in areas with dense thistle patches. That was probably the right choice, considering time constraints, but it skewed their view of my restoration. In effect, they think it is better than it really is. I have several areas that I know the thistle patches are thick enough to preclude growth of the native vegetation, and I think I need to respond to that. However, my thoughts before the gathering were to hire the farmer who rents my land to apply Milestone as a broadcast application over 2-3 areas with the worst thistles on perhaps 20 acres. This would mean that close to half the restoration would have been treated with herbicide in the past two years. Rather than do that I am now planning to use my ATV to spot treat. This will provide much more control over what is treated and probably mean that no more than a couple more acres of the restoration will receive herbicide. This decision became even easier when I found two species growing along the draw next to some of the thistles I had been planning to spray, Great blue lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica) and Canada tick-trefoil (Desmodium canadense). Though a great many forbs have tolerance to Milestone, as I have seen this summer, there is no doubt I will be eliminating species (such as the lobelia) that I don’t want to eliminate in areas where I spray. I have known all along that I would be living with thistles and I just need to make my peace with it.

The second question, that of adding more forbs to forb-deficient areas, is a thornier one, because there are several layers to reaching an answer for a particular site. First, quite simply, is whether more forbs are necessary. Of course I would like a hundred species every damn place I look, but we go back to the concept of ecosystem services. Are more species needed to deliver the services I desire. More is better than less, but we are talking expensive plants here. The success rate of establishment into a three year old planting will be poor and seed will be expensive, whether in the actual cost of purchase or in the time it took to gather. And as long as I have other more receptive areas to seed there is an opportunity cost. Seed spread in one spot obviously can not be spread in another spot. Other factors to consider are whether I have a good grass sod building which will make it difficult for new seedlings to establish, whether I should burn or graze before (and perhaps after) I spread seed, how much I am willing to spend and whether I have, or am likely to treat with Milestone. Over-analysis of a question tends to lead to inaction, not something that suits my personality, but neither do I want to waste a lot of money and time beating my head against a wall.

Here, again, there seemed to be a consensus. Even in areas where it looked like there was room for more seed there might not be. Much of the action in the prairie occurs below the ground. The roots of the various species are doing battle and doing their damndest to lock up as much of the turf under the surface as possible to support what goes on above the surface. Right now I have 20 acres that were seeded last fall that still has a great deal of biotic space to colonize. That is where I should put my resources. I spread a little forb seed in the area of the 100 acre restoration that had been managed to control thistles earlier this year. I will probably purchase some seed of some species which are tolerant of Milestone (which was sprayed there last fall) and spread some more as an experiment, and try to be happy with what I have on the rest. The decision might be different in three or four years if I see forbs being out-competed by the grasses and forb populations and diversity declining in the heart of the restoration.

The third question, regarding burning, was quite immediately relevant because the summer’s drought (which has ended in the 5 weeks since the field day) had opened up the restoration to emergency haying, and one of my renters has cattle, so I was faced with the decision on whether to hay the entire 100 acres or whether to leave some forage standing to burn next spring. The decision is complicated by the fact that because of the drought, the gravel hills with the best forb diversity to manage didn’t have enough biomass to make haying worthwhile or to carry a fire next spring. It is fair to say, however, that every conservation professional I have met loves to burn prairies. Fire is fun, and the short term results oflten tend to be dramatic and very satisfying. My renter with the cattle cut about half of the restoration, including the most productive soils, for hay, and then cut a fire break around the rest. We will attempt to burn the remaining area next spring, realizing that part of it may not carry a burn. It is very possible that it will mean burning on a couple different days, or at least re-starting the fire if it reaches a point where it burns itself out. In native prairies a major goal of fire is often to set back cool season invasive species of grass such as brome and Kentucky bluegrass. While I have a little of those two grasses establishing, a larger short term goal on my restoration will be to discomfit a different invasive species, wormwood sage (Artemisia absinthium). This might mean a different timing for the burn as wormwood grows very early in the spring. It will be incumbent on me to get my resources together so that there is some flexibility in getting the fire done right.

The fourth question, concerning the use of the site as an educational tool, has no immediate answer, and we didn’t spend significant time in discussion at the field day. Really, it has two parts. First, is this a good site to elicit discussion and to provide examples of what can be done with the land? I think it is premature to answer that in full because so much is in flux. The restoration, after three years, is really not yet grazeable, though it might be next year. The new 20 acres is just a weed patch, and will still look like just a weed patch next year. The fencing which will allow rotational grazing is not yet complete. A work in progress is a candidate for a good teaching tool, but it seems to me it will be better in another year. The second part is tougher. I am turning 66 with health issues and an inability to speak. It will be difficult for me to “manage” an educational farm. I hope to have conversations with a wide variety of people to explore the possibilities both in how the site might be used, and who will develop/lead/promote events and tours at the farm. In other words, this was a good introduction to several people who I can have further discussions with to consider the possibilities.

All in all it was a very good day. I brought some sandwiches and food, and a good time was had by all. We saw the best of the restoration, we went to a couple problem areas, we looked at my new restoration and I was very impressed with the quality of the conversation. Everyone there seemed to think it was time well spent and contributed thoughts and ideas. I think that it will be the start of several valuable and enjoyable relationships and many good discussions. In the end I think that what I am doing is a good thing, but I am not pretending to present any grand model for conservation on a working farm, so I need to have fun with it too. Mission accomplished.

Postscript: About a month after this gathering one of the participants, Josh Lefers, who works for Audubon Dakota emailed to ask permission to come out with two coworkers to see the restoration. I happily invited them and had a great time showing off my work, with some very interesting discussion. The visit was made even sweeter because one of the participants, Juli Bosmoe, had just stood up for my daughter Diane at her wedding. Already progress on goal number four listed above, and a fun morning. Life is pretty sweet some days.

Not All Plants Are Created Equal

One of my primary hopes for the restorations I am doing is to extend the reach of the native species that I have growing in my relict prairies in the hills of northeast South Dakota. Without getting too deep into the biological scrum that is inherent in the concept of a species, it is obvious that the plants that I have growing in my prairies are not the same genetics as the plants that I grow from purchased seed. They are the same species in the sense that they will cross pollinate with the plants grown from purchased seed, but the phenotype, the physical representation of the plant as it grows and develops, is different. In some cases, such as the blanketflower that was in the CRP mix I purchased three years ago, they are very different. I looked back at the seed tags and saw that the seed came from Colorado, at least 600 miles away, for crying out loud. I was too naive when I began this process to even realize this was how the business worked, though in retrospect I should have been asking more questions. This certainly doesn’t guarantee that the Colorado blanketflower will die soon, or that it can’t contribute to the ecosystem services I hope the restoration accomplishes, but it brings up some thorny issues.

First and foremost, is whether they will live. Selections on most wildflowers/forbs and even many grasses are made to appeal to gardeners, not restorers. That means it is almost inevitable that the selections came from more gentle, forgiving environments than my prairies. Exhibit A is below:

These pasques were blooming, and at least trying to pollinate, on a 35 degree day. While it had been warmer several days before, raising the soil temperature enough to stimulate initiation of spring growth, the highest air temperature for four days was 40. They don’t look very impressive, but I wonder if pasques growing from purchased seed would be out blooming and trying to pollinate. While on the whole it was a very easy winter, there was a ten day stretch in February when temperatures failed to get above zero, with minimal snow cover. What effect will that have on my blanketflowers from Colorado? Am I likely to lose a chunk of my original seeding? I don’t know, but will begin to find out very soon as soil temps rise.

While survival is paramount, I also wonder about the timing of bloom matching the timing of pollinator activity, the possibility that cross pollination back to my native forbs may actually produce maladapted seed, and even the introduced plants’ compatibility with the local microbial community. Marissa Ahlering, with The Nature Conservancy, has presented the idea that climate resilience may be enhanced by seed sourced from outside the local community, as opposed to the accepted wisdom of only using locally sourced seed, but she was suggesting incremental changes, not adding seed gathered or selected from 600 miles away. Ultimately the real question is what seed will further my long term goals for the restoration.

It is fair to now ask where I am going with this. The seedings are done and any additional seed will come from seed I gather. Why beat the topic about the head, so to speak? Well, I am afraid that as long as I am alive nothing will ever truly be completely finished. There are many tangential paths to follow.

The next part of this story begins with a very interesting visit to an old friend a week ago. Dave Ode was the State Botanist for the South Dakota Department of Game, Fish and Parks for many years, and has an incredibly broad experience in the conservation history and needs in South Dakota. He has chosen as a retirement project increasing seed from selections from a number of the native milkweed species in South Dakota. His house in the country is ringed by small plots of these milkweeds, growing out the seed. I was very interested because I have already been gathering some seed from my three year old restoration, spreading it over the 20 acres that I seeded last fall, and even letting my friend Ben gather some to sell. What changed how I viewed the project, however was a simple descriptive phrase that Dave used, that he was growing “Foundation seed”. Foundation seed is a common phrase in the agricultural seed industry designating the original stock to increase seed from a new, discrete genetic selection. Foundation seed implies that the particular genetics is of a quality to be increased so that it could be widely planted. A farmer doesn’t just plant wheat. The farmer plants wheat of a particular variety that was selected for certain qualities and increased from Foundation seed.

We didn’t get too deep into Dave’s thought process, but I think that he was concerned that in the huge push to plant milkweeds in support of monarch butterflies, a lot of ill adapted seed was being planted. Several of the species that Dave is growing are completely unavailable from commercial vendors, and all was collected from native sources in South Dakota that he has documented. I need to have him elaborate more on the potential avenues for distributing the seed, but what he has told me so far implies that he feels the needs are large enough and varied enough that it is not necessary to worry about it too much. He mentioned several parties he had been in contact with regarding distribution of the seed he grows, and when I left he gave me small amounts of two species of milkweed to use in my restoration. I now wonder if I shouldn’t treat them as foundation seed and use them for plots to further increase availability.

And that brings me back to my prairies, my restorations and my plans for the year. I had already talked to my friend Ben about starting some seed plots of gathered seed, primarily as a potential income source. Now I am thinking a little bigger, in effect establishing my own foundation seed enterprise. What species will I concentrate on and what properties will I look for? Well. I won’t overthink it. If there is a species that is difficult to access it will be a candidate, and its ability to thrive in the environment of my prairies is the property that I value. Maybe the seed will only be used by Ben and me, but maybe there will be others interested in seed from this geography, from this sort of site. Maybe I have something to offer that part of the restoration world that is working to bring back prairies in a circle around where I live.

If I were interested in doing a restoration at Jamestown, North Dakota or Brookings, South Dakota or perhaps even Alexandria, Minnesota, I know I would be interested in slender milkvetch seed sourced from a collection on my prairies in Day County. This is one of many species of forbs in my prairies that cannot be purchased. Perhaps I can facilitate their availability for others This is potentially a large project, far more than I would ever be able to accomplish myself in my diminished physical state, but I am not alone. I already have some potential partners. But first I have much to learn.

Postscript: I wrote the first draft of this two days ago. Today I returned to the restoration to look around and see what had begun growing. Well, not too damn many of my blanketflowers are growing. Blanketflower is not a long lived species but I still didn’t expect to find 90% of the plants dead. I think my Colorado plants got a little stressed during the February cold spell and gave up. The restoration was awash in blanketflower blooms the past two years and perhaps I will have a new crop from all the seed that has dropped. I think that convinces me that blanketflower from my native prairies is going to be one of my Foundation seed choices.