As we enter summer, I am trying to figure out what I am seeing in the prairies this spring, and ending up a bit confused. A little confusion is inevitable, but there’s more than an average level of mystifying happenings. Thus, after a short exposition I will engage in the specialty of old men, the SWAG (stupid wild ass guess).

First, a short backstory leading to this spring. There was a lot of rain last year, enough so that the prairies probably came into this spring with a little left over, at least on the deeper soils. There was, however, very little snow, and attendant snow cover, and spring rain is 2-3 inches behind average. Additionally the past two years have seen opposite displays of reproductive exuberance: wild and showy in 2024, and subdued and dreary in the hot, dry spring of 2025, before the heavens opened. Here’s dilemma number one:

This is an area towards the base of a hill in the native pasture next to the main restoration. It was burned this spring, as described in the last post a few weeks ago, and lots of areas look like this. That’s not unusual, we often see some prairie violets (Viola pedatifida), but this pasture usually has 5 yellow Nuttall’s violets (V. nuttallii) blooming for every lavender prairie violet. I only saw a couple Nuttall’s blooming, and thousands of prairie violet. What gives?

Dilemma number two. Another spring wildflower that really showed up on the burn is blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium campestre), shown above, in numbers that were a bigger surprise than the violets. I thought it was a big endorsement of the things a burn can do until I walked farther into the unburned area of the pasture and saw the same thing, literally many thousands of blooms over the prairie hills, always thickest on the north facing slopes. Hell, there are even some blooming on the old CRP where none were planted.

Dilemma number three. On the other hand, I see very few alumroot (Heuchera richardsonii) extending flower stalks, and the groundplum milkvetch (Astragalus crassicarpus) are pukey little things with just a few flowers forming pods, even in the burn. Both have really responded to burns with vigorous growth and bountiful blooms in the past. Again, what gives?

Finally, one of my “nemesis” species, to borrow a term from birding, that has steadfastly refused to appear in the restoration is wood betony (Pedicularis canadensis), a plant that I have spread seed for several times, and had almost given up on. Suddenly a week ago, I saw them blooming in moderate abundance along several hundred feet of a hill along my field trail.

There are perhaps a hundred or more blooming where I have seen none before. And many are like this, sending multiple stalks from what are obviously vigorous crowns. implying they have been building carbohydrates in their roots for some time, perhaps several years. I may try to gather seed to take elsewhere. I have no idea why they are all blooming now, but just look forward to seeing more in the future.

Thus, there is no common thread here, and I think I have to almost think things through species by species, The violets are the most confusing, but the two are very different plants, inhabiting different sites. Prairie violet is ubiquitous, inhabiting many types of sites, almost a little weedy. I drove an ATV across my wife’s grazing system a week ago, in a mesic environment dominated by tall, warm season grasses and saw hundreds. My guess is that the prairie violets built their reserves last year with good rain, and only needed showers to finish preparation this spring. Conversely the Nuttall’s violets, who live on the edge in the xeric hills go dormant through the summer, thus not building reserves, and rely on snowmelt and early spring rain to kick in their reproductive season. A SWAG, as I said earlier.

Here’s another SWAG: the groundplum and the alumroot both begin growth very early in the spring. Green basal leaves of alumroot were visible in late March. The lack of snowfall and early rain simply shut them down for the year, making two years in a row of meager vegetative growth and little reproduction. Likely, with better conditions they will just try again next year, something a longer lived perennial can do. Both species had huge reproductive years in 2024, depleted their root reserves, and just needed a little more help this spring to aggressively grow and put out reproductive structures.

I feel more confident on the reason for the blue-eyed grass explosion. There was a fair bloom of them two years ago, the year where everything bloomed. A fair amount of seed was dropped, with some likely being redistributed by the sparrows and meadowlarks. Last year they germinated like crazy after the rains began in mid-May and were ready for to party this spring. As a short-lived species they need to take full advantage of any decent opportunity to reproduce. They also put less resources into the attempt than alumroot and groundplum, meaning they can risk a little more and be more aggressive in their attempt to send another generation into the world, figuring that even if they fail they should get another chance. We will likely gather some seed in a few weeks.

I think I will end my speculations here, saving some other topics for another post. I have spent an hour or two several times in the past couple weeks just wandering and pondering. That’s also what old guys do, you know, passing those hours off as productive activity rather than indulgence. Some would say that I have earned the right to wander a bit, but I see that line of thinking as a bit of crap. We do what we can do, when we are young people with families to tend, or when we are old farts with memories to tend. While I certainly hope that my walks and my thoughts can be translated into actions that can help the prairies, it is enough to just enjoy it, and to feel lucky to have the opportunity. Each moment brings a new opportunity to one’s life, and with mindfulness we hope to use some of those opportunities for the betterment of the world. But sometimes, with the right opportunity, we can just wander.