In my last post I considered how to evaluate the sufficiency or completeness of my restoration, hoping to inform my decision of whether to add more seed this spring. I am also starting to think ahead to this coming summer. What is the worth of gathering seed to add to what I hope is an existing stand later this year? My assumption is that the areas that were actually seeded last June will begin to fill in this summer, but that we will not yet have a “sod”. There will still be a lot of bare ground which should mostly be spackled with new seedlings, both native perennials and weeds. That would seem to provide a window for some success for further seeding.

And now I go back to the concept of redundancy from the last post. To have surplus seed ameliorates the effects of two different weaknesses of last years’ seeding. First, I know that the drill used in the June seeding failed to deliver much seed to about half the field, and the subsequent spreading of seed that we did in November probably had imperfect coverage. Seed that I spread this coming summer and fall will in some cases fall where there is no native seed. I hope those areas are very small, but I believe they are out there. Add in some bird predation (there has been a persistent flock of horned larks and snow buntings hanging out on the field all winter) and perhaps a little water movement as the snow melts, and I may have more empty areas than I think. This means that, like last fall, I need to create a diverse mix to spread if I wish to create a diverse community on the entire field. I will have to buy some grass seed to blend with all the forbs I hope to gather.

Second, the June seeding was the approved CRP seed mix integrating seed from many sources, sometimes far away from my home in northeast South Dakota. What will be the longevity of western yarrow (Achillea millefolium) from Oregon or blanketflower (Gaillardia aristata) from Colorado? I have already gathered small amounts of blanketflower and yarrow from my prairies and spread them last fall. It seems prudent to gather and spread more to provide plants with the genetic staying power to live through temperatures of 35 below. Last fall I concentrated my efforts on the areas that were bereft of seed; I should probably supplement the well-seeded areas with adapted genetics as well.

An awkward impediment to the success of summer 2019 seeding is the dormancy residing in most native species. Most of what I spread in July and August this year will only break dormancy in 2020. Will there still be a place at the table then? In the best of situations most seeds don’t produce plants, and in this situation a very high percentage of what I spread will become food for some organism, whether bird, insect or microbe. We will return once more to redundancy. Plants produce a great deal of seed to waste, but that is obviously an efficient evolutionary strategy. In a native prairie some seeds must germinate and grow to replace their aging parents, or all plants would reproduce clonally rather than put their energy into seed.

This begs the question of how best to use a limited resource, my time, to improve the restoration? Should I be “wasting” my time gathering seed, most of which has no chance to improve the stand? I have an agronomic consulting business that I still work at. Perhaps my time is best used making money to buy seed and services to help my seeding. Where best should I use my limited reservoir of stamina? But no, the answer is easy, though I am not an impartial judge; I need to be out gathering seed, spreading seed and observing what is happening both in the restoration prairie and my native prairies. Though money is always limited I feel that I have more money than time, and more time than energy. The breathing problems resulting from cancer treatments led to a trachaeostomy and that has led to a susceptibility to pneumonia. I might not be able to continue doing this in future years. Though I have walked the prairies for close to 60 years, I was poleaxed by how much I learned the last two years, gathering seed and preparing for the restoration. How could I give up that fun?

What of the species that I have not been able to gather? Puccoon (Lithospermum canescens), silverleaf scurfpea (Pediomelum argophyllum), ball cactus (Coryphantha vivipara), textile onion (Allium textile) sun sedge (Carex inops) and prairie milkvetch (Astragalus adsurgens) are all reasonably common (Scurfpea is practically ubiquitous), but the seed is difficult to gather and unavailable to buy. Is it worth spending the time to transplant a few balls of cactus, for instance. If it is intimidating to use a small seed spreader on 100 acres, how much more daunting to feel able to affect species composition by transplanting. I haven’t yet decided, but I’m playing the long game here, looking to the future. Once I feel that I have a decent restoration I will probably offer it to the U S Fish and Wildlife Service as a grassland easement. There are already easements on all my prairies and an adjoining neighbor’s pasture. If I’m willing to enter into a perpetual easement I should be able to consider actions which might not have significant impact for many years. It is something to ponder.

Another topic to think about is whether to seed a soil biota. How much soil does it take to allow the native prairie microbiota to get a foothold? And is it necessary? Will the wind and water do the job for me? I freely admit to being in deep water here. Dr. Caley Gasch of North Dakota State University who has worked in mine reclamation, was encouraging when I casually mentioned the idea. When I backtracked by referring to the enormity of the task, she suggested just throwing a few shovelfuls of soil around. Seed some small areas, and if the new environment is to their liking it will hasten their spread across the restoration. Once again, playing the long game. There is a chicken/egg dilemma here, though. Which partner comes first in a symbiotic relationship? Perhaps I need to let the plants establish and let the roots explore a bit before I put too much work into moving soil.

When is enough, enough? Hell if I know. To return to the topic of adding seed; redundancy, by definition, is inefficient, but can provide comfort in covering up or ameliorating the effect of poor planning, poor execution and poor luck. In my work on the restoration this summer my goal, you might say, will be to be inefficient, but to be comforted. For at least another year or two, this project is my mistress.

Postscript

The last two posts (as well as others to come) were written during blizzards last winter, and are a bit dated. Recently I have done some more seeding which I will describe soon in another post.