What Have I Accomplished So Far?

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.

A view of a barren hill, with the exception of the wormwood sage clumps and some mustards.
Large areas looked like this, with few weeds to provide cover.
And now, this is what it has become three years later. The area on the right side had been mowed for hay three weeks previous to the picture.

Tall cinquefoil (Drymocallis arguta) blooming, surrounded by black samson (Echinaacea angustifolia), fringed sage (Artemisia frigida), downy painted cup (Castilleja sessiflora), slender penstemon (Penstemon gracilis) and Missouri goldenrod (Solidago missouriensis)>
An aster (Symphyotrichum sp.), either sky blue or smooth blue, along with a diversity of other plants.

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.

One of about 20 groundplums I have found in my restoration so far
Prairie turnip. I found the first prairie turnip in the restoration this past year, a cause for celebration.

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.

Horsemint (Monarda fistulosa) with a small purple prairie clover (Dalea purpurea) at its base to the left.
A bit of the tangled mess it can be in the better soils of Zone 2.

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.

A look across Zone 3 with two of the remaining milkweed struggling in the sea of grass.

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.

The view from above. Photo by Linda Simmons
The view up close. Photo by Linda Simmons
Another close-up, including the ubiquitous Canada thistle in the upper left. Photo by Linda Simmons

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

Part of a group of conservation professionals that I hosted. Photo by Bruce Toay

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.

A baby cinquefoil (Drymocallis arguta) from October ready to take on the world this spring.
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Semi-retired agronomist going back to my roots by re-establishing prairie on my home farm