I’ve been dancing around this question in bits and pieces for a couple years now, and devoted a post to defining what I was hoping to accomplish by developing a living seedbank two years ago. Still, as both my aspirations and the restorations themselves evolve, I think it worthwhile to put out a 2026 version of my quixotic quest, and to gather the threads I have in other posts in one place. In the original post, entitled “The Living Seed Bank”, I put out both the justification and the vision of using our prairies, both native and restored, as a repository of populations of various species grown from seed adapted to this region and climate. Whether that “region” is 20,000 square miles or 200,000 square miles I don’t claim to know; the right answer is likely different for every species. However, it is very obvious that there are zones of adaptation whose edges become barriers when one tries to establish seed that comes from outside that zone. My original attempt at a limited restoration twenty years ago included purchased purple prairie clover (Dalea purpurea) seed, a species that grows all over this area. I do not know where the seed came from, but after having thousands of plants establish the first year, they quickly dwindled to a few odd plants who had found a way to live through winters here, cowering beneath the frigid wind and cold in which their brethren perished. I have several other examples. Thus, I need to be careful in the seed that will become those living plants which will be available as a source of seed for others to use. I do not foresee my land as a source to populate a large acreage by itself, but as a supplement with other seed, and as a source of “foundation seed” to increase, whether for the gatherer’s use or to sell. I have many dilemmas/barriers/obstacles that surround this quest. Thus. this post.

First, how many plants of each species do I need to be growing in my prairies to accomplish my goals? How many plants will it take to provide a self sustaining population over the long run? One hopes that such a population will also provide enough plants to provide a valuable amount of seed. There is a very influential book published in the 1960’s by E. O. Wilson and Robert MacArthur titled “The Theory of Island Biogeography” which simply states that there is a strong correlation between the size of the island, how close it is to the other landmasses and the number of species that will survive there. Our prairies are islands, even in areas with substantial acreage of native grass, because of overgrazing, herbicide use, invasive species (particularly smooth brome) and perhaps inbreeding. There are not always sources of seed that can easily travel to my prairies nearby. I am thus viewing my prairies as an island, and in effect, trying to enlarge my island for a suite of wildflower/forb species so that they remain in my prairies.

For example, I have perhaps 50 plants of standing milkvetch (Astragalus adsurgens) in two of my native prairies, and have so far been able to establish 5-10 in the restorations. How many more plants need to establish before I can relax and let natural processes take over? While again I’m sure there are widely different answers to this question depending upon species, I am going to make guesses for all the species in the seed bank and move forward. The number will be smaller for long lived species, for species which I know are in neighboring prairies, and perhaps for species with more effective modes of dispersal. Obviously, that means larger numbers for short lived species, ones for which I know of no close neighbors, and species which tend toward local seed distribution. Standing milkvetch is, I believe, long lived, but I know of no nearby sources, and it’s seed doesn’t seem to go far from the plant – it tends to grow in groups, which, as it’s not rhizomatous, are likely all from a single pioneer plant as seed source. All this lead me to feel I need to keep working to increase populations, hoping at least to get into the hundreds, to both avoid their extinction on my property, and to provide seeds to others.

A second, opposite example is wild prairie rose (Rosa arkansana) which is very long lived because it grows clonally by rhizomes, is found in many places nearby and has seemingly wonderful distribution from birds and mammals who eat the rose hips, distribute the processed seed (one finds many along roadsides next to pastures where birds have eaten rose hips and have then gone to ingest gravel for their gizzards) and thus spread them hither and yon. Though prairie rose will be available for seed gathering in my prairies, as well as for all the other ecosystem services it provides, I won’t spend much time or money to increase populations in my restorations. Each species will gets its own determination.

The second dilemma relates to the issue of inbreeding, but really goes farther than that. In my native prairies I have plants with genotypes developed over hundreds, perhaps thousands of year that have contributed to their evolutionary fitness for this piece of land – they’ve been able to pass their genes down and survive. Any beginning to a locally adapted seedbank has to begin by recognizing this fact. Seed from my plants, and likely from plants in nearby prairies, take precedence. We need them if it is possible to get that seed. However, I still have qualms I will illustrate with another example. When my friend Ben Lardy and I first spread seed on the restoration in 2018, I had gathered some seed heads of downy paintbrush (Castilleja sessiflora) from a neighboring pasture and put the seed into several batches of gathered seed that were spread. From that small beginning thousands sprang up in two separate restorations. It was a big success! Those qualms developed almost immediately, however. All the seed came from 20-30 plants growing on perhaps 3000 square feet on a single hill, very possibly from a single colonizing plant sometime in the past. Are they already inbred? If not, it seems just a matter of time before they will be, and that we will lose existing genetic diversity in those plants from genetic drift, the random happenstance inherent in small isolated populations. Put simply, I need to add diversity, even with the substantial number of plants that I have.

Almost by definition, any wildflower species that is conservative/isolated enough to warrant extra attention in the seedbank needs additional sources of seed to provide the genetic material to stave off genetic drift and inbreeding, and to hopefully provide genetics to continue retaining its evolutionary fitness in changing conditions, like warming temperatures down the road. Where do I find that variety, how much is necessary, how do I access it, and how do I get it introduced into existing restorations and native prairie? All of what I write here contains opinions and speculations so I’m really in over my head. Stick with me anyway, and we’ll pretend we know a few things, after which readers can disagree and throw brickbats as they please.

First, the easy answer. I can, and have been, gathering seed from other prairies I have access to in the area, most notably the prairies in my wife’s grazing system 30 miles east of the Central Point Prairies, as well as a friend’s small prairie close to her grazing system. These have what I see as an added benefit of occurring about 800 feet lower in elevation in a slightly warmer and wetter climate, the climate to which we seem to be changing. I have also been adding seed that Ben Lardy and another young friend, Levi Waddell, have gathered in prairies within 20-30 miles of the restoration that they have access to. So far, so good. We are getting seed that is likely to add some genetic variety. I still have two separate problems here, that lead in the same direction. I cannot source seed of every species this way. Maybe with Ben and Levi’s help I can come close, but there will be some species that are uncommon enough or just hard to gather, for which I may have to look farther afield if I wish to add diversity. Also, while I am likely adding a few genetic possibilities into the meta-genome of the various species from seed gathered nearby, is it enough? This restoration and the native prairies have perpetual easements, and I profess to be playing a very long game here, one that can be appreciated many generations down the road. How far afield should I look?

As an example I go back to my downy paintbrush. I need genetic additions to add to the depth of the greater paintbrush genome in my restoration as much here as with any species. Right now both Ben and Levi will look for some to provide me, but what if they aren’t able to do it? Do I buy seed from a vendor which may or may not be able to provide me the ultimate provenance, the wild source that the seed originally came from before it was grown in small plots for sale. Obviously, I plan to ask about that provenance, but I don’t expect that I will always get it. I have decided that, as the prairies reside about 40 miles from both North Dakota and Minnesota, I will accept seed with more vague descriptions of origins in those two states, as well as South Dakota, when I feel I need new sources. Prairie Moon is a native seed seller in the southeast corner of Minnesota from which I have bought small batches of many species in the past without questioning the source material. I will no longer do that. Prairie Moon is closer to northern Illinois than it is to my prairies. I need to become a more informed consumer. To sum up, I am definitely looking for more diversity for many species. I will try to obtain that diversity from within 50-100 miles, but I don’t think it profits me to be a purist, and when needed, may accept that the source may be 200-250 miles away. My gut feeling is that adding genetic diversity is important enough that I will roll the dice, extend my accepted circle of origin, and hope I don’t introduce characteristics that make my forb populations less fit. I am not suited to prolonged analysis, but to taking action. I will move forward.

I’m moving forward now, but to what? I can’t work on every species at once. How do I prioritize my activities? How do I prioritize which species to work on? There is no completely right answer here; as the saying goes “It’s all good.” Mostly, so far, I have spent the most time on species which for whatever reasons, are iconic to me, that inspire me. Those include black samson (Echinacea angustifolia), prairie turnip (Pediomelum esculentum), standing milkvetch, groundplum milkvetch (Astragalus angustifolia), slender milkvetch (A. flexuosus), leadplant (Amorpha canescens), prairie smoke (Geum triflorum), pasqueflower (Anemone patens) and a few others including one that I will use as an example, downy gentian (Gentiana puberulenta). First, the little gentian is drop dead gorgeous when in bloom. For 50 summers now I always hope for a good year when the base of the hills in our hayland would have a scattering of these beauties blooming. It is also a species with few enough plants, and occupying a small enough area in my prairies, that it could clearly use more friends to commune and cross pollinate with.

It has also been on the South Dakota list of threatened species. It isn’t truly rare in this area, but my land is on the western edge of its range, and that in itself makes it a good candidate for establishing a robust population. I have asked Dr. Lora Perkins and her crew for 100 seedling plugs to transplant this year and will attempt to very carefully spread my little batch of gathered seed as well. I am not doing this with black samson or leadplant because I can gather lots of seed, and have many hundreds of each already established in the restorations. I am desirous of other opinions here, but for now if a species is hard to get, I have some already in my prairies, it is very conservative (only being found in good condition native grass), and I really, really like it, I will spend extra time and resources on it. Not the most objective criteria, but as I wrote earlier, other ideas are welcome.

Finally, let’s assume I now have my new seed, sourced from wherever I thought fit. How do I best turn that into growing plants producing their own seed in the restorations and native prairies? I no longer have the blank canvas of a bare field to place the seed upon. Even the most recent restoration, 20 acres seeded in 2022, is becoming filled with plants and their thirsty roots. On the one hand, new seed must have found ways to create new plants in native prairies, otherwise all plants would rely on clonal growth and fight for space that way. Seeds count, even in existing prairies. On the other hand, how many get to grow up and be somebody? An individual plant may put out many thousands of seeds over its lifetime in order to replace itself and, God willing, maybe add a second child to the world. Can I afford to gather thousands of seeds to add a single plant? Or, to turn the question around, how do I stack the odds in my favor?

I’ve been trying to do that the past three years by planting plugs grown for me at South Dakota State University by the Native Plant Initiative (NPI). I’ve planted around 2000 small plants of 20 species or more, and have not had a lot of success. I’ve mentioned before that I think much of that has been due to my abysmal timing, with having many of the most intense planting sessions occurring just before stressful weather hit. I think I’m past placing all the blame there, however. Not all of the plants went in right before hot windy periods. Almost all of the plugs, however, went into gravelly, xeric soils. I think it’s too much to expect pampered little greenhouse seedlings to compete, however well adapted they may be, on droughty sites with established plants already there. I hope to try again to plant 200-300 plugs this year, but most will go into better soils, which should help, especially if we eliminate more of the nearby competition, trying to allow them to grow a bit before all the surrounding plants shade and their roots grow back and overwhelm the new seedlings. We will probably flag them as well, to keep better track of how they do, and perhaps to water them.

Then what of the species that are at home in gravel soils? I think we will rely more on continued spreading of seeds, probably in conjunction with burning, mowing and some grazing to hold down the competition from existing plants. I’ve discussed this in more depth in a recent post “The 2026 Plan”, but suffice to say, if I want to get to those self-sustaining populations that I and others can be gathering in the future, I cannot rely just upon population increases from the plants that are already there. As a last example, one of the species that I really want to increase is green milkweed (Asclepias viridiflora), which is at home on the most xeric soils. I probably have 100-150 of them in my native prairies and a few in the restoration which resulted from perhaps 100 plugs I planted the past three years. This year I hope to plant a few more plugs, but more diligently care for them, and also to go out there with seeds to place on/in the soil in appropriate areas, as opposed to flinging them out for the wind god to distribute. I can’t do that with tiny seeds like our little paintbrush, who need the wind god, as their seeds are like dust, but I hope to stack the odds a bit with bigger seeded species, including the green milkweed.

It appears that I have a busy year ahead of me, but it seems to me that this is a grand goal to which I put my labors. In total, Linda and I have about 750 acres of prairie, about two thirds of which is native and a third restored by us. That’s a big responsibility for two senior citizens, but we are working towards finding others to follow us. Linda concentrates on her prairies in the Whetstone Valley near the Minnesota border, managing her cow herd, and I play in my hill prairies on the Prairie Coteau. I read of retirement being boring for some, without the structure of their past workplaces. In contrast, our “retirement” includes workplaces that exist in the great expanse of sun, sky and the often harsh play of wind and rain where boredom is impossible. What a privilege to feel the power of the elements every day! What a privilege to work to attain lofty goals! One day I was having coffee with my friend, Tim Holtquist, complaining that I was a bit overwhelmed by all the tasks I had in front of me. Tim, who is 73 and still working and very active, smiled and said, “Yeah, me too; isn’t it cool?” I will stay true to that sentiment and move forward with helping my prairies become a resource for society, and maybe a beacon of hope for those who value the natural environment. That is the windmill at which I tilt, and like my role model, Don Quixote, has said, “When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams – this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness – and maddest of all: to see life just as it is, and not how it should be.” These restorations are my madness as I chase what I think my land should be. I am at peace with that description. Below are some examples of my goals, beginning with downy gentian.

,